Picture this...

You just started a new job on Monday. On Thursday, you get an offer for another job that is, well, too good to refuse. It's like when someone offers you a piece of apple pie, and you think, wow, that is just great... and then someone else comes along and offers you a piece of apple pie fresh out of the oven, with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce... I mean, you don't want to hurt the first guy's feelings, but you can't pass up the extras on piece #2... and you can't have both because it'll totally ruin your diet. Now add to this the fact that you're just a bundle of panicky nerves.

I was up all night trying to come up with a way to quit my job. On day 5. So that I could start job number 2 the next Monday. Gah. Gaaaaaaaaah.

I managed it. But just imagine the terror and stress. NOT GOOD, my friends, NOT GOOD.

On to the next interminable trial... the new apartment! And whether or not I can pick a proper color of brown paint. You know... not so light it looks like hospital beige, but not so dark it looks like poo.

Although Meetho would probably LOVE that color...

Damn You and Your Interest, Credit Cards!

I'm losing my mind today. I was up all night. Why, you ask?

Hold it. I need a moment. The dog just cut the cheese and I might pass out...




Help.




Gas mask, anyone?




I can't see... the world is turning black...




Okay, the fumes have dissipated and I'm recovered. Back to the issue at hand: my credit report. It basically sucks. It's not really my fault, since I've been a student for the past 3 years and thus on an unreasonably small and restrictive budget. But now I need a new apartment and they are going to run my credit. And then they are probably going to say, "Ma'am, you didn't seriously think we would let you live in our apartment complex with credit like that, did you? Honestly? No. We thought not. Good day and good luck (snicker snicker from the evil rental agency.)" This actually kept me up last night. I mean, I'm TRYING to get a place to live here. If those Weezer tickets from 2001 that I put on my credit card come back to haunt me today, I swear, I'll hunt down Rivers Cuomo myself and make him pay. PAY I TELL YOU!

Tom Brady Sucks and Other Things That Make Me Nervous

I am not going to talk about how long it's been since I've posted. Instead, I plan to launch directly into some very stressful situations that have been on my mind (constantly... incessantly... interminably. There's a $10 word for you. Suckas.)

1) My G-Men - the Big Blue Wrecking Crew - are playing against the Evil New England Patriots this Sunday in the Super Bowl. You probably already knew that. If you didn't, I don't care to know you anyway, so consider our friendship terminated. As you can imagine, this is posing innumerable panicky problems for me, including all of the following, in no particular order:

a) Will we win?
b) Will Easy E play like Peyton or like "old-Eli-who-threw-picks-like-they-were-part-of-his-job-description?
c) Will Harry Carson, Phil Simms, and LT (the real LT - don't even try to front like LaDainian Tomlinson = LT. Please. That fool can't hold a candle to the real deal - forget the fact they play completely different positions. LaDainaian may be able to run past your ass, but LT can rip it off and shove it down your throat.)
d) How many times can we sack that douche Tom Brady, and will we destroy his ankle in the process? Will Gisele be there to see her lame-o, fake-ass, Stetson-commercial-whore, weird high-in-the-back-helmet-wearing boyfriend get pummeled by our front four?
e) Will Belichump (I refuse to call him Coach - that is reserved for two men: Coach Tom Coughlin and Coach Joe Gibbs. You need to have some class to get the title.) wear a hoody in the balmy desert?
f) See a).
g) Will any of our guys be hurt?
h) Will the G-Men recover from the flu in time to stage and execute the greatest upset the world has ever known?
i - z) See a).

Obviously, I'm a wreck. I've been pondering my sartorial gear for a week and half now, since I firmly believe that whatever I wear has a direct bearing on the outcome of the game. This is a serious problem. I am currently feeling the old school Giants t-shirt, blue socks, Giants hat, and Giants scarf. Anyone who has some advice and can help calm my nerves on this occasion should comment ASAP before I end up throwing something through the television and destroying my chances of actually watching the game.

2) Adding to the Super Bowl stress is the fact that the very next morning I begin what I am calling "my career." It's an intimidating title - I know. I'm intimidated myself. Very panicky. Here are the top 5 reasons why, again, in no particular order:

a) Will I have to sit in a cube?
b) What time should I get up to get there on time? Should I be 15 minutes early, or on time? Should I take 270 or 355?
c) What should I wear? Brown pants, tan shirt? Black pants, green sweater?! Black skirt with WHITE SHIRT?!?! A SUIT?!?!?!?!?!
d) Where is there parking? Will I have to pay for it?
e) Will the Super Bowl festivities/funeral from the night before get in the way of my being smiley and friendly to each person I meet? (For those of you scoffing because of my usually surly demeanor - for shame. You know I can turn on the charm when necessary. PSH.)

3) Finally - the apartment hunt rears its ugly head. I have no money and bad credit. How to get an apartment under such circumstances, or least one that doesn't qualify for Section 8? Ideally, I need a place between work and friends, with a decent kitchen, no security deposit (aaahahahahahahahaha), available mid-February, that has a decent lock on the front door. Sounds easy, right? You must be trippin'. You should see some of the places I looked at last week. Hovel would be a kind term to describe them. Hole in the ground might be more accurate. I am totally freaking over this. I will probably never find a suitable home, and I'll end up being the richest homeless bag lady to walk the streets of DC and sleep in Lafayette Park. NOOOOOO! Save me from this terrible future! Give me a home, overpriced-understaffed-poorly-managed-apartment-companies! To make it worse, I am currently imposing myself and my stuff upon my friends, who have their own lives to deal with, including a small child, and aren't trying to have my shiz all up in their family life every night, eating their food and drinking their coffee. I mean, I am NOT keeping it real.

Which leads me to my real final thought: I figured since I have some time this week, I'd get on here and hit you with some Panicky Pam. Long overdue... which posed quite a problem as I couldn't remember my password to log in, and couldn't remember the password for the associated email account, so I couldn't get to the email giving me the log in info. WHAT?!?!? I mean, panic TOTALLY ensued. What if I couldn't ever get it? What if I had to start from scratch? Think of the problems, the time, the long-distance issues over linking everything back together! Think of the disappointment, the wasted hours, the trouble!

Luckily Timmo just emailed the info to me and I logged in.

Disaster averted... for now, anyway.

The Bus

So I know it's been a while since you heard from me, but don't be tricked into thinking that I've been calm, cool and collected all this time. Psh please fools. I just haven't had any time, what with my finals and then my big move to NC for the summer. Oh yeah. I'm in Charlotte, home of the Lowe's Motor Speedway (or as we locals call it, the LMS. Take that, Yankees!) Anyway, so there's been plenty of fodder for panic down here, I can tell you. Here's a brief example: I have to take the bus to work. Obviously this poses MULTIPLE problems but one in particular was givin' me fits. I bought a Weekly Bus Pass with no concept of how to use it once on the bus. I'm not a bus rider; the few times I ventured into that mode of public transportation, I was drunk and threw a buck 20 at the driver's face while he sputtered in annoyance and asked me to please be careful if I need to be sick. So anyway, day one comes, and I carefully step on the bus, the outward picture of sanity but FREAKING OUT on the inside... I look at the driver and hold out my pass. He looks down at the ticket taker machine. He looks back at me. I look down at the machine. No one speaks. The bus stays stopped. The other riders are shifting uncomfortably in their seats and I am DYING INSIDE. I finally say, I'm new here, where do I put this? He rolls his eyes at me, turns around and rolls his eyes at the other passengers, then points to one of the three different card slots on the machine. (I don't get this. They can't make one that reads all the cards? Every other city in the civilized world has managed it... they can't???) I stick it. It comes back out. I grab it and head speedily to the back of the bus... just in time for the driver to slam on the gas. My bag of shoes and lunch immediately rolls down the aisle and I sway and scramble to pick up my items, while everyones sniggers and laughs at the dumb girl who doesn't know anything. = my worst nightmare. The moral of the story: don't ride the bus in Charlotte if you are prone to panic attacks. Strike that: don't ride the bus in Charlotte EVER. (It should be noted here that after a week and a half of sticking my pass in this one slot, a new driver tells me I've been using the wrong one, and to use a different one. What? WHAT?! Again, this happened with a bus-full of onlookers. Ridic.

Items of Note

I don't like to use this as a general venting blog or long diatribe of my daily activities, but here are some items that might be of interest:

1. Bedknobs and Broomsticks is one of the greatest Disney movies of all time. If you don't agree, you didn't have a decent childhood. Sucks to be you.

2. The Mets clearly do NOT suck. But you do.

3. Mickey Update: The Mouse in my House is gone. But I am convinced he'll return... which is why every single day when I get home I check under the lid of the stove for evidence... you think I'm crazy? Psh. You know you'd be checkin' too if you had cleaned up that amount of poop from inside your stovetop. Please fool!

4. I can't think of 4, but when I do, I'll make sure to freak out about posting it for like 36 hours before I actually get on here and make a post. Word up G.

5. Happy Easter (if you're a God-fearing Christian. If not, enjoy the weather.)

Lay off the caffeine???

It's been a while. I should tell you up front that I'm writing this instead of writing my Law Review Comment, which has already been rejected once and is likely to be rejected again.

Anyway, as I've said before, I only panic about small things. It's the big things, like Law Review, that seem to not trouble me or keep me up at night. Oh sure, I usually have a brief flash of panic when I first wake up in the morning, but as soon as I hit the shower, the big issues seem to go away, and I turn to the real meat and potatoes of my mental life: not having clean sneaker socks, scheduling in laundry time, and of course, timing my departure so that I can grab lunch, make the bus but not have to wait for more than 2 minutes. Gee. I'm glad I'm so good at pondering the meaning of life.

Anyway, today I want to talk to you about Starbucks. Well, coffee generally. Every day I have this internal debate over it, and it is starting to really wear me out. (Yes, even I get tired of this stuff sometimes.) Here is my problem: I hate Starbucks coffee. It's too bitter. But it's so convenient (ah the genius...). There is one near my apartment, one near the bus stop, and one across from school. Any place I go, really. But it's gross. So then all of these other options come into play: I could go to Foster Bros. or 7-11. But Foster Bros. is one of those annoying "coffee-house-arty-folky-hippy-non-armpit-shaving" joints. Um, no thanks. And 7-11 only has those little fake cream thingies. Um, ew. Okay so that leaves school and Whatsa Bagel. School coffee is gross, plus it claims to help some little children in South America or something. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for helping the little children, but I fail to see how the Law School generates that kind of cash flow. Plus, I'm sick of having a moral lesson at every turn around school. Can't I just drink my coffee with the knowledge that I'm an over-educated, over-privileged, white American, and not feel bad about it? Crap! So back to the choices: this leaves Whatsa Bagel. By far, the best coffee in C. Park and maybe even upper NW. BUT it's across the street. So then I have this whole internal debate. Do I leave early, go there, then go to school? Do I go there, then take the later bus and be late for class? If I DO go there, do I then HAVE to buy a bagel? I mean, is it weird to go there and not buy a bagel? It IS a bagel place, I mean, geeze. The problems just keep compounding and compounding. Plus, even though it's the best coffee, it's the worst cups and the worst lids. Talk about spillage! I have to wear a tan unitard just to cross the street without noticeable stains!

Anyway, you see where I'm going with this. It's not so much indecision as the constant realization that once one decision is made, there is an endless parade of new decisions that are tangential. It's exhausting. I just want some coffee.

I guess I could just make my own... but then I need to buy filters... should I get the cones or the baskets...

M - I - C - K - E - Y ...

I have a mouse living in my stovetop. I know you will think I am making this up. But I'm not. I have spotted him twice now. He pooped in my breadbox. I threw it out. The bread survived. The box did not. Under normal circumstances, this would be cataclysmic. Tonight, I don't care. As long as that little f*cker doesn't try to climb in bed with me, I'll allow him to live. FOR NOW.

To be continued...

Bike Saga, Part I

This isn't really a panicky post, but since it is plaguing me I'm posting it. Word.

so i go to HTO last night to buy a bike lock. i don't want to spend a lot. i know they will try to sell me some top of the line lock, but i figure, a $90 purple huffy isn't likely to be stolen, and if it is, big deal. so i decide to stand by my dollar limit. WELL, of course that overpriced, hiking/camping/climbing/all-things-crunchy-granola-yuppie outpost only sells locks of $17 or more. So I end up with a $30 U-lock that weighs about 15lbs. I figure if it's the best I can do, I might as well just go ahead and get it so I can ride back to school tonight for my 10:30 pm meeting. (let's not even get started on that one..) i get it home and then at around 9:30, i decide to get ready for my trek. i unpack the lock. i bring it over to my bike. i realize at this point that the lock mount DOESN'T FIT AROUND ANY SINGLE PART OF THE BIKE. now i am steamed. but i figure, well, i can return it later, i'll just throw the lock in my bookbag for tonight, lock it up, then return it tomorrow and GET MY $30 BACK. so i put it in my bag, grab my helmet, and then wheel the bike to my door. it is then i realize the front brakes are too tight. okay, no problem. i grab a wrench and loosen the brake, piece of cake. this is when i decide that it might be a good idea to just quickly hop on the bike and make sure everything is the right height before i get it outside where there are no tools. i swing my leg over, sit on the seat, and look down. and realize that the tire rims are flush with the wood floor. there's NO AIR IN THE TIRES. and I DON'T HAVE A BIKE PUMP. at this point it's 10 o'clock, so i've missed the bus, and there is no effing way i'm paying for a cab. so i remove my helmet (since i dont' want it ruined by the fire coming out of my ears), put the bike back, and put on my pjs. i email ILR to tell them i'm not coming because i'm sick, get in bed, and go to sleep. now i'm thinking this bike idea wasn't so hot. by the time i buy a lock and a pump and all the accessories, i will have spent an amount practically equal to the cost of the bike. DEATH... death.

CVS - Those Bastards...

Going to CVS makes me extremely nervous. I've found that you can't go into CVS and not spend money, and it's always more than you thought you would spend. I think this might be especially true for women, because we have to buy all kinds of scary beautification products so that guys won't think we look hideous. (While claiming that they don't like women who wear too much makeup. Trust: if we all stopped wearing blush and doing our hair, there would be a manly revolt.)

Plus CVS is like Costco: they sell all kinds of shit that no one actually needs, but when you're caught up in a buying frenzy, you suddenly believe you are rich and that you desperately need a dancing Santa with flashing lights that runs on 17 D batteries and plays Jingle Bells in an endless loop. And at $34.99 it seems too good to pass up.

So basically, every time I pass the CVS or head into it, I panic. How far over budget will I go this time? Will I end up with 6 tubes of full-fat Pringles, 3 overpriced Loreal products and a ridiculously large loop of Goody hair elastics? Again? Probably. Which is how, approximately 1 week ago, I ended up with 2 boxes of CVS brand Christmas lights. (CVS brand items are the worst offenders. They sneak up on you with their yellow CVS tags screaming, "I'm on sale! And I'm so NECESSARY! And you have a CVS card! Plus, I look just like real !") Anyway, so I decided I needed these Christmas lights, called Merry Brites brand but really just CVS dressed up for the holidays. Then I got home and realized that one box was entirely unnecessary.

Paaanic time! Because my mind starts racing: Does CVS have a return policy? What is it? Where is the receipt? What if they won't take my return without the receipt?

Today I marched my $2 Merry Brites over to CVS and waited 10 minutes to return them, sans receipt. What do those dummies give me, but a CVS MoneyCard... yes that's right, they now also carry little plastic signs of the devil: gift cards. But mine only carries a balance of $2. WTF?! When was the last time I walked into CVS and only spent $2??!! This is just a ploy to get me to go in there and spend my borrowed money!! The guy actually had the nerve to call it a coupon... WHAT? It's not a coupon! It's my $2 which you have STOLEN and placed on a CVS giftcard, so that I am forced back into your evil empire in order to make use of it! Crap!

Now I have this card mocking me every time I open my wallet, and it's making me reeaaallly panicky. Spend it? Go back to CVS? What to do, what to do? Damn CVS! (And Rite Aid, and Walgreen's, and Duane Reed...)

Happy Holidays

I hate Christmas lights (see below.) They give me fits. Do Christmas lights in close proximity to tinsel start fires? Do Christmas lights start electrical fires if you leave them plugged in even though they don't work?

Why am I suddenly fire-panicked?

Did I ever tell you about that one time I left the oven on for 14 hours? Oops.

Back to those lights, I know its not a novel complaint but they really do suck.

One good thing about the holidays: old movies. AMC keeps it sooo real... currently watching Holiday Inn with Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire... oh it's good.

Except for the fact that my television is busted so it keeps flashing red and then white and then fading to nothing... Come to think of it, you don't think that could, say... start a fire?

DOI

I've decided that my panicking is just an attempt on the part of my brain to refocus my attention on things that aren't that bad. Now I bet you are staring at the screen and thinking WTF is this chick talking about?

Well, I'll explain it, dummies.

See, instead of panicking about important shit, I somehow only panic about some dumbass, stupid stuff that no one actually cares about, including ME. Example: I had an exam this morning. In a subject I think I might actuallly want to practice some day. And last night, instead of panicking over the fact that I hadn't studied and had only a few hours left before actually taking the exam, I, in my inimitable style, was panicking about whether I should get out of my nice, warm bed to walk the three feet across my living room to pull out the plug on the Christmas lights.

Doi.

Then when I woke up at 5:30 AM, I opened my eyes and immediately started freaking because I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough time to eat breakfast, watch the news, shower, dress and pack up my stuff in order to make it to the 8:15 bus to make my 9 o'clock exam... yeah, the one I had YET to study for.

Forget the fact that it is approaching one week that my rent is late, and I haven't yet gotten my hands on the cash required to pay it.

What me worry?

So I'm thinking that my brain, without my knowledge, is like "This chick is gonna lose it if I let her panic about some important shit, you know like rotten milk or getting evicted, so we'll just distract her with stupid shit like whether Christmas lights have a negative (translation:burning) effect on fake plastic trees (purchased at Target with a credit card that STILL has an outstanding balance 5 years later...) oops, oops back to the lights, back to the lights..."

Thanks, brain, for keeping it so real.

WHERE ARE MY GROCERIES?!

Hey y’all, I’m back. I’m sitting around waiting for my groceries to be delivered and watching “Win A Date With Tad Hamilton.” (Clearly, Josh Duhamel is the hottest man on earth.) Anyway, I’m currently freaked because every single other time my groceries have been delivered, the Peapod man has arrived at the very beginning of the delivery period. Now, I’m looking at my clock, and it’s after 6, and the window started at 5:30. Mr. Peeeeeaaapoood Maan… where are you?

I started to think maybe I had mixed up my days. Now this would be highly problematic because a) my schedule is laid out like the effing Wall of China: it’s long and solid and it doesn’t appreciate breaks and b) I have no food. Now when I say I have no food, I mean like, no food. So I was kind of banking on the Peapod delivery man to bring me my food early. That way, I could unpack and make dinner and all would be right with the world. As it is, I’m in a state of disarray because NOW I’m afraid he’s going to arrive at 9:30, which would totally mess up my evening. That’s too late to make dinner, plus, the only the other thing I have to do tonight is give myself a pedi, which I can’t do until after he comes. So if he leaves me waiting until 9:30, I will have to eat and do the pedi afterwards, and that’s a problem because my bedtime is 10:30 and… well, even I’m getting sick of worrying about this.

So I’ll move on to worry about what I should do in the meantime. Obviously it should be productive, but I can’t face schoolwork. Laundry? No quarters… damn. I reached the end of the internet ages ago, so that’s out. Crap… now I’m going to panic about what to do instead of panicking.

This is when me falling down the steps to the Metro on Saturday night comes back to haunt me. See, when my mind tries to distract me, it usually does it by bringing back an awful memory I have been trying to repress. This time, it’s me plummeting to my knees on the stairs at Cleveland Park thanks to a loose heel on my formerly fabulous shoes while all the people waiting below on the platform laugh and point. I really love those shoes… guess I can’t wear them until I fix them… have to take them to Pentagon City for that… that’ll take a week… shit… what’ll I wear this Saturday night without them…

… and we’re back to panicking. Please. Don't act like this stuff doesn't occur to you too. Psssh.

So, up until now, my last panic attack had struck yesterday afternoon. This might not seem like much, but going for a minimum of 12 hours without having an internal meltdown is totally huge in my teetering-on-the-edge-of-insanity existence. Yesterday’s trauma occurred because a friend of mine had shipped his engagement ring (yeah ENGAGEMENT RING – you see where this is going…) to me. This meant I had to go to the post office, pick it up, and walk it down the street back to my apartment, then pack it up, and deliver it to him. For most people, this seems like a non-event. For me, it was like Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. You know what I’m talkin’ about. Every step could be a potentially deadly hazard. What if the post office lost it? What if someone realized it was jewelry and stole it out of the mail? What if I pick it up but it falls to the ground when I leave and I don’t notice it? What if I get mugged? (Now this one is really absurd. I live in a pretty upscale neighborhood. I’ve never been mugged in my life. The only thing between my apartment and the post office is a fire station with a minimum of 5 fireman sitting outside watching me walk by 500 times a day. No WAY that this is gonna happen…) What if I put it in my bookbag and get on the Metro and then on the escalator the person behind me surreptitiously unzips my bag, reaches in, grabs the box, slips it out, and then rezips my bag, all without my knowledge? (Again, odds on this one: slim to none. No, I take that back. Just none.) What if I put it in my locker at school, and someone sees me and uses a bolt cutter to break the lock and steal it? (I’m not kidding. These thoughts actually cross my mind.)

You can see how this is terrifying. But I try not to let on to everyone. I act like it’s totally no big deal. Meanwhile I’ve mentally used and abused myself into believing it’s a lost cause and the ring will never reach its destination. All while the poor little voice of reason in my head (who isn’t even in the back - he’s crouching in fear in a corner) keeps saying, “This is crazy. You are making shit up and it’s pretty irritating. Please, pull it together before I have to take action! ANnoying!”

Naturally, nothing happened and the ring made it. And then I had about 12 hours of peace. Until just now, when I realized that I have out-of-town friends coming over and the ice in my ice trays was made with tap water instead of bottled water and I only have 2.5 hours to remedy this dire situation…

My Very First Post

Wow. I can't believe I'm actually posting in a blog. I never though that I'd really be up to it. I don't think I'm that creative. But a friend of mine convinced me to do it. He said I'd be good at telling stories... mostly about me freaking out over little things.

Like today in class, I suddenly had an allergy attack. Naturally I was out of tissues, but my eyes were running and my nose was running - it was a marathon of facial features.

And I had to ask myself, "Do I really want to get up in the middle of class to get more tissues and draw everyone's attention to me?" It's so difficult.

Not to mention the fact that I woke up late and missed my bus. I pretty much expected it to be the end of the world today.

But whatcha gonna do? I can't believe that my allergies are still acting up. I mean WHAT is going on here?

You know, this whole blog thing is aMAZing. I can tell everyone about everything and anytime. I hope I can do a good job at it. The last thing I want to do is put up something crappy.

Ugh - one more thing to worry about!