Babysitting position

I recently had to drop one of my babysitting jobs for personal reasons. If you're an AU student and looking for a job, please consider picking it up. The ad is posted here. The hours are Monday/Thursday (ignore the typo in the ad that says Wednesdays), from 3:30-7:30, at $10 an hour, and the wage is negotiable. The two boys are great, and the job is simple... occasionally helping the 10-year-old with homework, playing with the 5-year-old, making dinner (usually noodles or something similarly easy to cook). The family's contact information is on the ad, and if you have any questions you can always call me, since all my contact info is on Facebook.

Just in case...

...you ever get the question "What did Kat do in the last week of the first month of the new year?" in a game of Trivial Pursuit, and, yes, that's totally probable, remember these answers.

-Her bike got stolen. By the way, it's a grey Schwinn Skyliner, so be on the look out for it, please?
-She babysat the Friday children, one of whom sprayed himself in the face with red spray paint.
-She babysat the Monday/Thursday children, one of whom peed in the playground to the applause of the other tots.
-She resolved to get her degree so she wouldn't have to babysit for the rest of her life.
-She negotiated her dear friend Crystal's return to DC in the first weekend of February (that's this weekend, kiddies).
-She watched the State of the Union address.
-She fell in love with Depeche Mode.
-She picked out her last class for the semester (which is filled with nothing but freshman).
-She put off this entry until it was actually February, which bodes badly for her "no more procrastinating" resolution.

Peppermint tea and APDA expense forms...

Well, it's that time of year again... time to wrest our annual American Parliamentary Debate Association dues from the grimy hands of Student Activities. Actually, that time of year was back in November, and APDA has smacked us with a very deserved $30 in late fees. What does this mean? This means that I am in my element -- scrambling to set right what procrastination has set so very, very wrong.

Last night I rearranged my room. You can see not only the floor, not only the surface of the desk, but the surface of my vanity -- all of which have been entirely obscured since late December. You don't believe me? Here, I can prove it.

Here you can see my stability ball, or, as I prefer to call it, my enlightened chair. Yes, I did indeed start the craze that is now sweeping AU... and by sweeping, I mean that Ash and Rachel have them too. Their growing popularity is due in part to their variety of advantages over their more ubiquitous wooden cousins; they can be used as A) dorm soccer balls, B) weapons of mass destruction, and C) awesome things to bounce on.

You can also see my bedspread. There's an interesting story behind that bedspread. From the time of, well, birth, until about third grade, instead of sucking my thumb, I sucked on my left index and middle finger. My parents promised that if I stopped, I could have a fish. Around third grade, I fell off my bike and broke my left arm, and after about two weeks of having me lift increasingly heavy objects to "heal that pulled muscle," my mom admitted that there was something serious wrong and took me to a doctor, who put a cast on my arm. The new lack of mobility made it hard for me to engage in my finger-sucking, and I quit out of necessity.

You'd think that my parents would give me my friggin' fish, but no; they made the cunning argument that "the cat would eat it" and conned me into getting a fish bedspread instead. But I'm not bitter anymore, because the bedspread has lasted a lot longer than the fish would have.

As I headed out the door this morning, I glanced at my bag, thought, "Do I want my cell phone?" and countered it with the consideration, "Do I want my cell phone to ring in the middle of class?" Concluding that I did, in fact, not, I left without picking up my phone. Imagine my surprise, then, when -- in the middle of a class I have to blue card into -- I heard the immortal screech of "STEALTH PEOPLE, BA-DA-DA!" which, if you've never heard it, is a voice recording of Crystal and I screaming into my phone, and serves as her ringer. My rabid scrambling to find the phone -- which, by the way, I'd accidentally left in my bag the night before -- probably amused a few students, but I doubt that my Micro professor was a fan.

On a much less humorous note, I owe it to my female friends to link to this article on the correlation between bras and breast cancer. Speaking as a woman who's likely to carry on the family tradition of contracting the disease, it's worth reading.

I always knew big business had it out for me.

As it happens, the north side bus stop is right beside Kogod, the AU business building. Thus, during the particularly cold fifteen minute waits, frozen AU students often take shelter in Kogod and wait until the bus comes into view.

The day before yesterday, Roz and I were headed to Georgetown, but because she had spilled water in her tennis shoes, she was wearing a pair of my sandals and freezing to death. We went into Kogod, where a newspaper was lodged in between the doors, creating a thin opening through which the wind wailed freely. We decided to move the newspaper so the doors would, you know, actually close, as is their function.

A few moments later, the bus rolled past. We opened the door to leave. Or, more accurately, tried to. Yes, dear readers, it seems that the newspaper was there to keep the doors from locking... and that we were trapped in Kogod. We raced to the front of the building, only to find that those doors were locked too.

Welcome to hell, ladies and gentlemen.

Eventually someone informed us that if we held down the red exit button, the door would open. Of course, the bus was gone by then. We opted to wait in the freezing cold rather than risk the wrath of Kogod again.

On another note, people have no idea what "vegan" means (not eating any animal products). It shouldn't surprise me. After all, vegans aren't exactly common. When Roz and I went in search of dessert on the night before last, we had the following conversation with an waiter at Amma's Indian Vegetarian Kitchen, after looking over Indian desserts that left us at a loss:

Kat: Hey. We're vegan (not entirely true -- actually, Roz is vegan and I'm kind of trying it out again). Um, I have no idea what these desserts are... are, um, any of them vegan?
Waiter: Ahhh, yes, yes, all vegan!
Roz: *unable to believe their good luck* No milk or eggs?
Waiter: Yes! All milk!
Kat: Um, there is or isn't milk?
Waiter: All have milk!
Kat: Err... sorry.
*We leave*

We had a similar exchange at the Prince in Georgetown; I finally settled for an Icee and some Sour Path Kids at the theater. But we learned from our mistakes, and last night we picked up a vegan dessert at Whole Foods. It was yummy.

I now have two new cookbooks... *plots cooking goodness*

A Brief Summary of Kat's Winter Break

Mm, Christmas. It was a good time. But the real fun started on the Friday before New Years', when Crystal and I went up to Virginia to go to my very first real "club": Peabody's. I danced. It took a good bit of convincing from Crystal, but finally she was dragged out on the floor by a rather creepy guy, and I had to go make sure she didn't get molested, and that required dancing. According to Crystal, whose word I don't entirely trust, I looked good. However, in my personal estimation, I probably looked like a dying bat trying desperately to flap my way into the air. Or possibly a wounded kangaroo trying to jump.

That said... who's up for Lulu's?

Early on New Years' Eve, Crystal and I drove down to Avon, where we spent a blissfully unsupervised week of debauchery. By debauchery, I of course mean staying up until 4 AM and getting up at about 3 PM. It was glorious. I also made a lot, and I do mean a lot, of hemp. Here's a small fraction of the week's yields:

I'm particularly proud of the shell chokers, because those are shells I picked up at the beach in Avon and I love the way they turned out.

On New Years' day, we went to the beach at sunset, and it was one of the most gorgeous sunsets I've ever seen. There were dolphins playing just beyond the waves. I ran into the water despite the fact that the ocean was about forty degrees. In fact, I did that pretty much every time we went to the beach.

One night around ten, we realized that we had no food in the house and went to Food Lion. We proceeded to get checked out by about five men of Hispanic origin. After they turned corners to ogle us, Crystal started getting angry, while I remained amused. However, after we paid and headed out to our car, the wolf whistles started.

I pulled the car around to drive by, and they waited until we were almost past and whistled loudly. At that point, we decided that we were rebelling against the objectification of women. I threw the car in reverse, rolled down the window, and yelled, in Spanish, "Do you have something to say to us?"

Cue shock. The guy at the front froze, shook his head, and muttered, "No, no, no."

We drove off. And they followed us. We stopped at a gas station; they stopped at the gas station. I drove into the residential area, parked in someone's driveway, and waited until they drove past to go home.

Well, there you have the highlights. Apart from nights spent in the bowling alley/pool hall, there's little else I remember. Now I'm back at AU, hanging out with Roz, and watching more Boy Meets World than you can shake a stick at.

Soon the laziness of winter break is going to be over... but until then, I'm going to glory in it.

"A roll of duct tape, WD-40 / Ain't nothin' too loose or locked too tight for a man like me." -- wisdom from both Dierks Bentley and my childhood

...And we all know that whenever we hear the words "too loose," we think of my roommate... whose first name I will not use at any point during this entry. Don't pretend to understand, unless you read her comment on my last post, in which case I guess you can pretend, but you don't. Hah. Occasionally, I may refer to her as "that girl."

FINALLY I HAVE MY GRADES BACK. I did in fact pull off an A- in Spanish, which brings the WORST SEMESTER EVER to a pretty good close. But enough about happiness; I'd like to take this opportunity to rant about the evils of credit cards and lying saleswomen.

Maurice's is one of the few stores in our mall. I really do mean "few"; the only clothing stores in the Southgate Mall are JCPenney's, Belk's, Style Setter (the display window usually sports torn-up shirts with a Playboy logo), and this one. Over Thanksgiving, I was approved for a Maurice's credit card, and since I'm all about A) building my credit and B) Maurice's jeans, I spent about $175.

The woman who worked there (who is Satan, by the way) told me that I would not receive a bill for two billing cycles "because of Christmas"; she further clarified that two billing cycles translated into sixty days. I figured that I would pay it back after Christmas since I'd have a couple paychecks from my transcription, as well as Christmas money, as well as the money left over from my crazy semester of work.

At some point during exams, I called my parents, and they informed me that an envelope had arrived from Maurice's (a local clothing store). Keep in mind that it hasn't even been a MONTH since my shopping spree, let alone TWO. I figure that it's just my card arriving and tell my parents not to worry about it.

On the twenty-first, I finally got down to going through my mail... to discover that the envelope contained a BILL informing me that the twenty-second (i.e. the next day) was my last opportunity to pay the first installment.

Don't get credit cards, kids. Just don't.

A half an hour later I'd paid the whole thing off, and, much calmer, came back to check the rest of my mail... and found a bill from the only other store where I have a credit card, telling me that I owed about $10, which is crap, because the last time I was in the store I made a purchase, checked my balance, and paid everything off.

Conclusions: Credit cards spend themselves and salespeople are incompetent. If they explicity tell you that you have no balance, they're lying. Your card has gone to the store behind your back and bought itself a lovely pair of earrings.

Far be it from me, however, to leave you with the impression that my break has been sullied by these events; everything's paid off and my payments were on time, so it's all good. More to the point, I'm heading to Avon in a matter of days and going clubbing in Virginia on Friday night. Life is good.

My great-grandfather ran a general store in Avon for years. It's been closed since he went out of business. I'm thinking seriously about reopening it. Since Avon is, fortunately or unfortunately, a tourist town, most businesses are only open for the summer -- perfect for a college student's schedule. Crystal and I would split the work (and the profits) between us, and since we know a multitude of talented people who would be interested in selling their goods (everything from wicker chairs to paintings to jewelry to clothes), we have a variety of stock we could sell. And it's an excuse to live in Avon for a summer, working days and surfing mornings and, hell, probably working nights at the pizza joint just to stay afloat and living -- living a dream and knowing you're satisfied.

Spring in DC, summer in Avon, fall in Germany... it might shape up to be an interesting year.

Finally, because it deserves to be said: Secondhand Lions is one of the best movies I've ever seen.

(Okay, fine... The Roommate/That Girl is pretty cool. This may not be an entry "dedicated" to establishing her quantity of awesome, but it does in fact mention it, and you have to take what you get. So there.)

Kenny Chesney understands.

^ Words I never thought I'd write. If you have any love for the beach in your soul, go pick up "Be As You Are," his second most recent CD. I, meanwhile, am going to indulge said love on Saturday with a week long vacation-within-a-vacation in Avon, when the town is blissfully free of tourists, somewhat desolate in the grip of winter, and incredibly cold, the kind of cold where the wind cuts you open and splashes salt water in your gaping wound while cackling, "Just HAD to come to the beach in January, didn't you? Sucker!"

The only remaining tie to the hell that was last semester is the insensitive little dash where my Spanish grade should be. Damn you, My American Dot EDU. You know that no matter how much I try I can't shut off the voices in my brain arguing about whether I still have a shot at an A in that class. You want me to torment myself. That's cool. After all, if our positions were reversed, I'd gladly gore you with a stake.

Speaking of gore, my Christmas present to Crystal was the Brothers Grimm DVD. It was surprisingly disturbing. A kitten got kicked into a machine made of blades and got sliced and diced. It was not Christmassy at all. The only way I've remained a functional, nontraumatized human being is convincing myself that it was a robotic kitten, with fake, Jell-O blood. The movie was good, though; I recommend it highly.

My room is a complete mess. I know I won't be here long enough to unpack my clothes, but it's kind of ridiculous to keep them crammed in a suitcase, so I compromised and scattered them all over the floor. The last three or four times I've been to North Carolina, I've promised my parents that I'll clean up before I leave... it never happens. I always rush off in a hurry, leaving a more-than-partially-concealed hardwood floor. I would say that it won't happen this time, but there would be no point.

My country music binge has continued, earning me such friends as Dierks Bentley and renewing my appreciation of Toby Keith. I pity my roommate.

...or season's greetings, or happy holidays...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

"No need to rush, folks; we're home now."

Hear ye the wisdom of the train conductor as we pulled into Newport News, Virginia; he spoke the truth.

I slept about ten hours last night and the night before... I don't even know what to do with that. It feels illegally good. On the down side, my nightmares are back... but that's cool because I'm sleeping when I have them.

Driving downtown with the windows down and the radio up is STILL the best form of therapy ever; I am already more human. My car's engine alternately purrs like a kitten and roars like Aslan in the new Narnia movie, and if you've seen that movie, you know exactly how awesome that is.

One of the families I sit for in DC has a Mercedes that I got to drive on my first day, due to a slight mix-up with the other cars. Compared to my Lumina, that car was possibly the least fun vehicle ever. I tapped the brakes and it practically skidded to a halt; I tapped the gas and it accelerated without a murmur. I understand that these bland cars are fashionable, but I want a car with an engine that roars at thirty-five but can hit a hundred without a problem.

I just want ONE more bypass joy ride and then I'll be happy.

I still haven't done all (read: any) of my Christmas shopping. *cringe* I'm just not sure what to get everyone; I know what I'm getting my two grandmothers and my mom, but I'm drawing a blank on almost everyone else.

I am slowly falling in love with the South. There's a very genteel Southern accent that some of the older women here have; I wish I could perfect it. I've also redeveloped my taste for country -- hurrah!

I'm entering a pool tournament on Monday night. *crosses her fingers* It's $12 to enter, but the pot's decent... I don't think I'll win it this time, but I'll be entering a few more times before I leave. Wish me luck.

And now you CAN wish me luck, because I turned the comments back on (just for people with blog accounts, though), at least until the spam starts up again.

Just twiddling my thumbs...

I'm here to take my exam, which I thought was at 10:00... I was certain the professor had forgotten, but apparently he had said 10:30, so now I have twenty minutes to sit in Clark going "GAH! VIETNAMIZATION!", which would be incredibly counterproductive, so I'm just going to play Reversi.

Anxiety. So much anxiety. I want it to be 1:00 already. I know my material, but I'm worried that I'll blank or something. Honestly? I'm just worried I'll miss my train. I want to be gone. I want to be out of here. Anxiety.

I may be freaking out a bit excessively, but as long as I'm calm enough to take the exam, I'm okay with that.

I want to be home.