Friday, March 6, 2009

Blowing the Dust Off

Life is an endless, soul-sucking miasma of chronic and debilitating exhaustion. Other than that, things are just peachy.

School is definitely one of the main culprits. Because the program I'm enrolled in takes semester-long courses and condenses them into 6 week torture-fests, I've been working long into the wee hours to finish a major project every week. The lack of sleep has certainly taken its toll on my supermodel good looks and weather girl personality. Why, I'd say I've dropped to a meager 8.5.

(We're talking on a scale of roughly six trillion.)

That's not the worst news I have to share with you, however. No, that juicy little tidbit would be that I saw my doctor, and she revealed that I have...


What the fudge is a goiter, you ask? That's exactly what I wanted to know! Isn't that something that old people get? I mean, not people like me who are young but complain, "Oh, I'm so old!" and make other people who are older than them want to hit them, because, come on, that's so annoying! No, I'm talking honest to goodness old people who poop themselves and yell at parked cars.

Well, apparently not, because I have one, and I do neither of those things. Much.

All a goiter is, my doctor assures me, is an enlarged thyroid. Unfortunately, the fact that I have one probably means that I will now be put on thyroid medication in addition to the three other pills I have to take every day for the rest of my life for my PCOS.

I'm a walking pharmaceutical, yo.

Fortunately, my goiter is fairly small and was caught early, so I won't be walking around with a basketball-sized lump in my neck. It does make me tired, though, which isn't helping matters with the aforementioned crippling exhaustion I'm experiencing.

I'm quite the catch, ain't I?


Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Google is My Friend?

I have a little confession to make. Since starting back to school, I've taken to Googling my professors.

(Believe me, it's not as hot as it sounds.)

The reason I do this isn't just because I'm a pathetic stalker-type person (I said not JUST because), but also because I find I am disinclined to take the advice of anyone who is not at least marginally better than me at the subject in question. And since many graphic designers today maintain a digital portfolio online, I feel well within my rights to snoop to my heart's content.

(What is that saying about curiosity and the cat?)

My first professor was very professional, and her portfolio was very nice (if a little bland). Still, she had lots of practical experience and she was very willing to share with the class.

My second professor was retarded, signed everything with "Smiles! :-P", and never met a shade of pink she didn't like.


I didn't really know what to expect with my new professor, but I was not harboring high hopes. It's a good thing, too, because they'd have been dashed on the proverbial rocks with this Google nugget.

Allow me to quote her letter to Ask the Eviction Attorney:
Dear Mr. Reno:

I had new tenants move into a townhouse condo in mid-November. They paid $400 security and the remainder of November's rent before moving in. On December 1st, 2007 I didn't receive a check from the tenants, 5 days later, I receive an email from the tenant saying he had not mailed the check yet and wanted to know if I would just pick it up from them. This was very inconvenient, as I was 7 months pregnant, and would have to drive to the other side of town to get the check. I did go pick up the check from the wife at the townhouse condo, and asked them to mail a check in advance in the future. Since then, they have mailed the checks for January, and February in advance so we have received it on time. What I want to know is it too late to give the tenants "notice to quit" in order to evict them based on the fact that December's rent was late?

Ms. [name withheld to protect the grade giver]

*cough cough ballbuster cough*

Oh, excuse me. I was just pretending to cough while calling my professor a ballbuster. Uh, I mean...allergies?

Needless to say, the past two weeks have been insane. In the past two days alone, I've finished 45 newspaper ads like this one for my made-up client...


That may not seem like a lot, but consider that every ad had to be different--different sizes, images, layouts, and logos.

In the words of Mr. Reno, the eviction attorney, in response to her query:

You're kidding, right?

Sadly, no.

It's going to be a long six weeks.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I'll Be Frank

And you can be Shirley.

Frank: Hey, sexy!

Shirley: Oh, you're finally getting around to acknowledging my presence?

Frank: Aw, come on, baby, don't be like that. You know I love you.

Shirley: Well, you certainly have a funny way of showing it. How long has it been? Two? Three weeks?

Frank: Yeah, but, you know, I had...stuff to do.

Shirley: Mmm hmm.

Frank: I had to, like, buy a toaster. And a vacuum. And a water filter for my fridge. Those things don't just replace themselves, you know.

And that took you three weeks?

No. But...but my ear hurt, too. It still does. I have to put drops in it and everything.

Shirley: And that affects your ability to type?

Yes! Have you tried typing with your head at a 90 degree angle? It's not easy. I should know. Plus, school started back up, and I have a ton of work to do. So, it's not like I've just been sitting around, doing nothing--

Shirley: You've been making furniture for your Sims again, haven't you?

Frank: What? No. What?

Shirley: Tell me the truth.

Frank: Well, okay, maybe...


(I'm a featured creator, baby! Don't hate the playa, hate the game.)

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Snow Din

Okay, I think I've let you behold the sexiness an ample amount of time, and considering the 8 inches of snow and ice on the ground pretty much have us snowed in for the foreseeable future...


I guess I don't really have an excuse not to blog. Especially since, as my good buddy, Meghan (aka "The Blogless Wonder"), likes to point out, we Grays have, at last count, 6 different platforms from which to impart bloggy goodness to the world, including my iPhone and the new MacBook Pro--both of which are inherently portable.

(Thanks for that, Meghan. Now kindly suck it.)

I'm Avery Gray, bitch. I blog on my time, not yours. That's why my name's in the big, fancy letters. When it's your name up there, we'll talk, mmmkay?

Passive aggressiveness aside, though, I have been feeling guilty for not updating this here blog. Not enough to actually post, but close. Real close.

Instead, I've spent the past several guilt-ridden weeks learning to use Adobe Illustrator for my class in graphic design, and having my arse handed to me by Mike in Scramble (which is Facebook's version of Boggle) when my brain just can't take any more. Admittedly, not the best time to challenge a nationally ranked Scrabble player to a word game, but I like living on the edge.

Having passed my class with flying colors (100%, baby!), and given up on ever beating the master at his own game (it's Scrabble-like, Mike, and you know it!), the only real impediment to blogging has been the mind-numbing noise generated by my housebound half-pint and his feline friend.

(Two stories, 2000 square feet, and the only good place to play "Squish the Cat" is invariably within a 10 foot radius of wherever I happen to be? Go figure.)

Couple that with a nosey husband on a lengthy vacation, and you have the makings of what's known as "The Great Blogging Void". It's inevitable.

For the moment, though, the boy is glued to the tube, my husband is snoring away on the couch, and the cat...well, he could be trapped in a snow cave for all I know, which makes this a good (and, perhaps, only) time to blog.

Now if only I had something to say...


Monday, November 17, 2008

Behold the Sexiness...


...that is my new MacBook Pro*.

15 inch display, 2.53 GHz Intel Core 2 Duo processor with 4GB of RAM, 320GB hard drive, and not one, but two sexy, sexy nVidia graphics cards.

Whew! I need a moment...

*Or a reasonable facsimile.

Friday, November 7, 2008

At Least She Got the Looks

My sister came up to visit me the day after the election. Such good Bible-thumpin' times! I, in a misguided attempt to corral the vociferous "Obama is a RADICAL MILITANT MUSLIM" rants, tried, gently, to steer her into more neutral topics of conversation that wouldn't get us lynched by the lunch crowd at Olive Garden (the most liberal of all olive-centric eateries). I told her that such rhetoric is better stated a) before the election, and b) to someone who actually gives a crap what she thinks.

Lunch did not go well.

Although she believes my defense of Obama equates to dire peril for my eternal soul, she was persuaded to change the subject to my classes and how I was liking school. (If only she knew my professor is a Jewish lesbian who specializes in "ecoart"!) I told her it was going as well as could be expected, but that I will really be glad when it's done and I can focus on my future.

"Yeah," she said, "I really wanted to take some online courses so I could become a travel agent, but when I brought it up to the family, Austin (her 11-year-old son) told me I couldn't do that. When I asked him why, he said it was because then I wouldn't be there for him when he got home from school. So, I took that as a sign from God that it's not the right time to do something for myself just yet."

I smiled and nodded noncommittally. What else could I do in the face of such crazy? I love my nephew, but even on his best day, he doesn't really strike me as the conduit through which an all-powerful, omniscient deity doles out career advice. Nor do I think God really cares about whether she continues to stay home and coddle her mama's boy or spends a few hours a day bettering herself. He's probably a little busy planning an apocalypse or something.

Sadly, she's not the only nutjob in my family. My other sister believes God advises her on real estate. He told her He wanted her to have a more luxuriously appointed home in a posh neighborhood because she'd earned it with her good deeds.

No, I'm not joking.

I really don't know how I could have turned out so much differently than my brothers and sisters. We were raised to believe in God, and to seek His wisdom in everything, and I do have conversations with Him from time to time. Of course, mine are a little more one sided, and rarely involve payment for services rendered. No, I talk to God the way Mark Wahlberg talks to animals...

"Hey, God. How's it going? So, you're the Lord, huh? What's that about? Hey, thanks for all the cool stuff you do. Alright. Say hi to your mother for me."

Short. Sweet. To the point.

I must be doing it wrong.