I’m sitting in class, sipping on a can of Barq’s Famous Olde Tyme Root Beer and polishing off a small bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos.  I’m having a hard time staying focused.

It rained a lot last night. It was kind of a weird rain though. There were times where I felt like I was on the set of The Truman Show and someone was flicking the rain switch on and off.

The husband is out of town this week which means I’m left to fend for myself.  Fend against my own paranoia, my own laziness, and my own bad habits.

I’m a little paranoid about writing that he’s out of town because I worry that someone will read it and decide now is a good time to rob us.  Yeah, I know.

Usually I get pretty lazy about school work.  And usually, it’s the husband that’s getting on my case to hurry up and finish during the week so we won’t be stuck at home all weekend.  I finished writing a paper last night but I didn’t get around to putting together my powerpoint presentation on pathological gambling.  I’m almost done reading the memoirs of a pathological gambler (that has been pretty fascinating) called Born to Lose by Bill Lee.  I can’t wait until I can start devouring my to-read-for-fun list.  It’s runs 14 books deep, not counting that whole magical wizard kids series.

Luckily, we haven’t had to turn on the A/C in about two weeks (I love double paned glass & insulation!) so I haven’t had the opportunity to forget to turn off the A/C.

The strange phenomenon that always happens is that I see myself becoming ultra-responsible in his absence.  I wake up earlier in the mornings for fear of oversleeping, I clean the house more often, and I eat healthier.

Unfortunately I have a big stack of school work waiting for me so I can’t indulge in me-time with good books, shopping, web surfing (I’m way behind on TED talks!) and television.  So my nights are quiet, in front of my laptop, at the dining room table, with one of my cats sleeping on my lap.

I’m actually an introverted person, I’ve always loved spending time alone, I think the husband has just become an extension of self (or the other way around?) and it’s a weird feeling to miss yourself.

I really like Twitter.  Thanks to everyone who has kept me entertained on there.  Special shoutout to RawkHawk who reviews music albums.  A recent fave tweet: “Snow Patrol - A Hundred Million Suns: Sounds like a mega-church’s dream worship band creating mostly secular ballads in moody chords.”

Haha, I knew that album sounded familiar.

Good thing the husband’s coming home soon.  If he weren’t, I’d probably start undertaking projects like the two below:

Today is my most dreaded day of the entire year.  Pap smear day.

There are only a handful of women who read sockparade so I’ll keep this brief.  It’s really important that all women who are sexually active get their annual well-woman exam.  There are so many things that can go wrong with the female anatomy and most of those things are better handled with early detection.  Most health insurance plans cover one well-woman exam a year (you just have to pay the co-pay) so you might as well take advantage of what you’re paying for with your premiums.

I won’t lie, it’s awkward and uncomfortable but it’s important for your health and good for your peace of mind.

Guys, please remind the females in your life.

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While I was at the doctor’s office today, a woman went on an extended tirade because she had to wait thirty minutes to see the doctor.  I personally think a thirty minute wait at the doctor’s office is acceptable.  Especially later in the afternoon.  The receptionist handled it really well but the woman refused to let it go.

“Is this how it usually works?  If so, I’ll just show up 30 minutes late next time so I get seen right away!  That way I won’t waste my time!  Is that what you’re suggesting?”

Everyone quietly looked up from their magazines to watch the confrontation.

It kind of reminded me of that Curb Your Enthusiasm episode where Larry David goes nuts in the waiting room about the appointment vs. sign-in policy.  In both scenarios, the angry, outspoken patient just seems even crazier because all the other patients in the waiting room are so quiet and docile– no one is usually willing to support the angry patient even though they are most likely also upset for having to wait an unpredictable amount of time.

You’ve gotta love waiting room dynamics.

Thanks to my awesome brother-in-law, John (affectionately nicknamed “Virus”), we get to play cool PS3 games that we didn’t buy.  One of those games is Ridge Racer.

Usually when I’m busy with schoolwork, the husband plays either NBA 2K8 or this game.  The graphics are pretty sweet and the customization of the cars is pretty complex.

It’s really funny because the husband talks to the female announcer lady that talks to him throughout the race.

For example:

When she says, “Good luck!”

He says, “Thanks!”

When she says, “See you at the finish line!”

He says, “OK!”

When she says, “Are you ready?”

He says, “Yes!”

When she says, “Give it your best shot!”

He says, “I will!”

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I better graduate soon or else these innocent conversations might develop into something more.

Remember how ten years ago everyone was going to their hair stylists asking for the Jennifer Aniston haircut?  Well, I went to my hair stylist a couple weekends ago and asked her for the Axel Steel.

“Um, like the Guitar Hero character?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

A shampoo, cut and blow-dry later, this is how it turned out:

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Juuuuuust kidding.  But it sure looks like it, right?

Oh and by the way, the double-chin is prosthetic makeup a la Phil Laak aka The Old Man appearing in World Series of Poker 2008.

Wearing new shoes usually adds about thirty points to the greatness level of your day. Today is no exception. I picked these up a few weeks ago at DSW. What can I say? I’m a sucker for argyle. Crazily enough, they are a size 8 and they fit snugly. I could have sworn that I used to wear a size 7. This lady at DSW overheard me lamenting this shoe size change to the husband and she said, “Oh honey, your feet never stop growing. I used to be a size 6 and now I’m a size 9!”

Yikes.

I think that’s crazy talk but I sure hope I don’t eventually grow to wear a size 9.

The husband and I experience an incredibly high frequency of strangers who feel compelled to comment on our conversations. I’m not sure if we are talking too loudly or if the topics we discuss are just too provocative – or maybe we just look really approachable. And it’s not just when we are conversing together. We also experience this when we are alone and are minding our own business.

If I’m waiting in a long line for the bathroom, I can always count on a woman next to me to make some smart remark about how “they still haven’t figured out that three bathroom stalls isn’t enough for an auditorium of women” accompanied with a playful elbow nudge and a wink. If I’m at the Social Security Administration Office and the rude security officer has just chastised a person for drinking bottled water because no food or drink is allowed in the office, I can always count on the middle aged woman in front of me to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath, “Can someone say power trip?” Before I can respond, she’ll launch into her extended sob story about how she’s here to change her name because she has recently divorced her husband and that it was a rotten marriage to begin with and truth be told, she’s happy to be free of it. I usually look around the room at this point to try to figure out why she’s chosen me to talk to. One, I’m not wearing a suit. Two, I’m not blowing bubbles with my chewing gum. Three, I don’t have any visible tattoos. Four, I don’t have a permanent sneer on my face. Sigh, the price I pay for looking plain.

This is the kind of thing that I pretend to be annoyed with but whenever I leave Houston to visit another city, I always realize how much I miss it. When a parent swears at their disobedient child in a public space, I miss not being able to exchange a knowing glance with a stranger next to me as if he/she were someone that I’ve been exchanging knowing glances with my whole life. Some people find southern hospitality fake and shallow – and in some settings (especially in retail stores) I agree – but for the most part, I really enjoy it. People who have conversations with strangers obviously don’t take themselves too seriously and probably feel that all people, even strangers, have enough in common to share a dialogue without any of the usual prerequisites.