Quesolessnessphobia

Though countless psychologists have attempted to catalog and
categorize the plethora of various phobias persistent in our world
today, together with a fellow intern in the state Capitol I have found
that a previously undiscovered phobia is plaguing millions across the
nation--and at least two in my workplace. It is known as
Quesolessnessphobia, one of the most severely crippling phobias known
to man.

Symptoms arise primarily in the college years, beginning with an
intense enjoyment of a sample queso in a restaurant setting. Though
mundane enough in the early stages, Quesolessnessphobia quickly
advances. Subjects report a symptom known as 'hogging,' where although
a portion of queso was originally purchased for multiple parties or
even the entire table, it is almost entirely consumed by the
afflicted, often to the point where he or she will sit immediately in
front if the queso and employ a 'double-handed shovel' technique to
consume the majority of it. Sufferers will begin suffering from
discrete hallucinations, seeing images of themselves in a 'queso
shower' or 'bathing in queso.'

When symptoms persist, sufferers of Quesolessnessphobia will begin
ordering not just one, but two quesos per sitting. Here the phobia's
negative effects manifest themselves in earnest, both in the
sufferer's wallet and waistline. Because of the former effect,
Quesolessnessphobia will cause those afflicted to begin making queso
within the home, thus exacerbating the latter effect of the disease.
With this transition, the condition quickly spirals out of control to
the point that the sufferer is so incredibly dependent on queso that
he or she is necessarily afraid to leave home without at least a
Tupperware container if it, if not an entire bag of chips as well.

In our studies, we found that there are no easy cures for this rare
and pervasive disease. Neither salsa nor guacamole seem to suffice as
substitutes, and the 'cold turkey' approach generally seems to
backfire on subjects hoping to rid their Quesolessnessphobia. It is
our hope that its proper identification will lead to more advanced
studies in the biological and psychological effects of this disease.
With the growing number of Quesolessnessphobia sufferers, one can only
hope a treatment, if not a cure, can be found in the near future.

Spaghetti is the Least Amenable Food to Eat While Driving

Never has a food been less ready
To be eaten in the car than spaghetti;
A twist of the fork
Spills sauce on your shirt--
It's a decision you regret-y.

Methodology for Stealing a Cup

When out and about in Atlanta, there may come a time when a girl needs to steal something from the top of the bar. Whether its an extra cherry or lime, a straw that you want to sneakily obtain, or, most recently for me, a cup, there is a very simple methodology to go about this clandestine activity with the least chance of getting caught.

 

1. Choose your victim. Boys are always hanging around the bar waiting for a girl to come up to them for whatever reason, so they'll be very pleased when you approach.

2. Initial contact. Two taps on the shoulder is all you need to get his attention. Smile sweetly and say something along the lines of, "Excuse me, would you mind grabbing me a _____ ?"

3. Mission accomplished. I've never been turned down--your victim will quite willingly reach over and grab whatever it is you need, allowing you to stand out of the line of fire should the bartender catch him.

 

It is my personal theory that this methodology can be employed in various other activities in life, though I only recently discovered it. More experiments to come.

Heels and Productivity

I have recently concluded that heels and productivity are positively correlated. Having just this morning been cleared by the podiatrist to cast off my cast and wear two shoes again, I can not begin to describe how my life has changed.

 

I walked into the office, my three-and-a-half inch heels clicking loudly on the marble floor, the echoes breaking tandem with my steps. There's nothing more self-promoting than the sound of your own footsteps moving purposely in some direction, like the louder, more determined your heels hitting the floor is, the busier and more important you are. So I walked quickly to my desk, eager to live up to my three-and-a-half inch heels, contemplating whether or not I should transition to four inches.

 

However disaster struck. I had no work to do.

 

My analysts were out of town, my advisor out as well, and just when I was ready to dive into the most prestigious project of my life--I had none.

 

But I wasn't to be deterred. I started immediately on several personal projects I had in the wings, like a writing submission for an essay contest, email correspondence, the usual. And I dove into these projects with a vengeance, my productivity increasing by the hour as I went from one task to another like a mad woman. I was so busy concentrating, in fact, that I did not see an email about a project I needed to do until far too late.

 

And now I have to stay after-hours at work on a Friday, proving (unintentionally) that heels and productivity go hand in hand--I'm definitely getting far more done today than if I had been able to leave at 5, at least.

Applauding the Health Care Bill

To the President and the Democrats

Who passed the Health Care Bill,

Who stalwartly fought and triumphed

Through the rage of Capitol Hill,

We applaud you and salute you

For achieving this reform,

For breaking political stalemates,

For ignoring the misinformed.

Despite the media's trials

And red wrath you have incurred,

You fought to ensure that

All Americans are insured.

 

Expanding coverage to 32 million,

Slicing the deficit through the next decade,

Offering the poor and poverty stricken

Expanded access to Medicaid.

Requiring all to purchase health care

Or face an annual fee

So that taxpayers do not later pay

When they face an emergency.

Protecting those with long-term illness

From new insurance being denied,

Helping countless adults and children

Who otherwise may have died.

Allowing seniors to get the medicines

That they require to live

By closing the prescription donut hole

That their small salaries cannot give.

 

And how will all this great reform

Be covered and repaid?

By taxing things like tanning booths

To subsidize government aid,

And taxing unearned income

For the top bracket of the wealthy,

And the expensive Cadillac plans

More than enough to keep the rich healthy.

And because of all this funding

We offer universal health care plans,

And Amongst the other industrialized states

Now America may proudly stand.

 

So despite the media's outcry,

The lies and slander thrown,

Despite the difference in beliefs--

The House and Senate's own--

Despite the mass of strong denial

The clash of partisan will,

And the public defamation from those

Who never read the bill,

Despite the President's foul treatment,

The political beating you've endured,

This bill will ensure that

All Americans are insured.

 

Spring Break

For the past week, along with fellow blogger Kind of That Girl, I went on a spring break cruise. It was awesome--too awesome to even begin relaying all of the amazing memories and hillarious stories. Instead, I have a list of quotes we wrote down throughout our trip. Interpret them how you will.

Supple 20 yr old
Rain when Katy drives
Old ppl hotel
Cabbie: best peaches (bitches)
Thank god I was wearing my cover up
Becky kissed Iurii on the lips
Should I, no. Will I, yes.
I will profan all I want
Got bitch slapped with an iguana tail
Is Ed Too Tall Jones too tall?
My everywhere is burnt
Stairs or steps?
The meatball says no
Guys. We gotta figure out this condom situation
If the alarm goes off we'll just laugh about it
Zen will take us to jail
Super cereal
I'm not as drink as you think I am
We're not friends yet you can't make fun of me
Wait that tasted like water
Try it it's not that bad
--that's what you said about the nail polish remover
Wingman city
She just birthed her ID
I may or may not have arranged D's makeout session
Cotton eye Joe
Please bring me to jail
Are my boobs rectangular?
I need to bitch slap you
Sir Nipsalot
D's market in her bra
I'm unpoopular
If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing

The Dress

This morning, miracle of all miracles, I found The Dress. It took four bridesmaids, three hours, two scraped knees, and one fate-induced gift card, but I found it.

 

My hunt for The Dress had, prior to this week, been little more than a sporadic day dream in my occasional spare time. Flipping through magazines, looking around on the computer at work, driving past bridal shops that I know I need to visit sometime. But this past Monday, I received an email that changed all of that.

 

"Congratulations: you've won a free wedding gown!"

 

You can imagine my surprise and skepticism upon opening this email. However, when I called the number to confirm, I found it to be true. I had registered for this 'contest' on a whim a few weeks ago, and the gift card was for Filene's Basement annual Running of the Brides event, to be held the upcoming Friday (today). I accepted the gift card and began researching this event, which has happened every year since 1947 and brings designer gowns to one location to sell for at most $699, no matter what the original pricetag. Apparently hundreds of brides storm the store at 8AM to find their perfect dress at a fraction of the cost.

 

Skepticism growing, I called my mom. She listed a wide range of legitimate examples of this event, from a clip she saw on the news last year to Monica's participation in Running of the Brides on Friends.

 

Skepticism fading, I asked her hesitantly, "What do you think? Should we...umm...go?"

 

"OF COURSE!" she'd exclaimed, and the rest of the week passed in a flurry of recruiting my 'team,' preparing my signs, and generally getting ready for the event of a lifetime.

 

Which, in fact, it was.

 

We arrived an hour and a half early, about twelve hours behind the first people who had begun lining up outside the doors. Walking in my cast (I'd abandoned the crutches), we took our place behind about 200 other people as more and more brides/teams trickled in behind us. When the time came for us to all surge forward into the store, it was a mad house of running, screaming, pushing, and for a few of us unlucky brides, falling. However we did manage to secure some dresses to try on.

 

This, however, was only the beginning of the event, for once you had a dress or two to try on, you had to begin to trade. You couldn't automatically trade for the dress you wanted--oh no. Not only was it impossible to find The Dress in the mass chaos, you also had to go through a series of trades to develop the quality of your 'pile.' High quality piles attracted high quality dresses for their trading potential, and it took us about an hour to work up the pile. And when we did, I would try on a dress, walk it to the mirror, and other brides would come up and try to trade what they had. Depending on the quality of their dresses, we would give them a dress from the 'No, it's hideous' pile, the 'Perhaps' pile, or the 'Major potential' pile.

 

So this is how, during the climax of the event, I found a dress that was Almost The Dress. There was a fairly attractive bride a few piles away from me with a soft, empire-wasted gown draped over her arm. One of my bridesmaids had tapped me on the shoulder, calling my attention to it, and we decided we MUST try it on.

 

This particular dress was one in her own 'Major potential' pile, so I had to pull out all of the stops to get to try it on, lending her not one, but TWO of my favorites just for the chance. And when I tried it on, it was maybe my favorite thing thus far. However, our bride-to-be-enemy also felt the same way.

 

I had to give it back, but my team and I began plotting how we'd steal it from her: would she take $100 as a bribe or should we just grab it and run to the register? We were biding our time, waiting for her to either discard the dress or decide on it so we'd have to steal it, when something remarkable happened. I retried on my 'Major potentials' and found it. The Dress.

 

Much to the dismay of the bride-enemy, it was categorically better (and a few thousand dollars better) than the one I'd almost stolen from her. Many women, in fact, came up to me and asked if I would be giving it up. I had liked it the first time I tried it on, liked it even more the second time, and when I ran my hands down the sides and discovered nothing less than pockets, I knew it was true love. The bridesmaids and I had let out a collective scream while I jumped up and down on my good foot, celebrating the conclusion to our long hard battle in finding The Dress.