Welcome to the Old Apartment

How is the neighbour downstairs?
How is her temper this year?
I turned up your TV and stomped on the floor just for fun
I know we don't live here anymore
We bought an old house on the Danforth
She loves me and her body keeps me warm
I'm happy here
But this is where we used to live

WE'RE MOVING.

Head on over to www.abigailmschilling.com/blog/. STAT.

Update your links. Call home because I tried to teach myself CSS.

And come on over.

(This is the part of the post I tell you just how dedicated I am to getting the new site launched. I set 12.24.05 as the launch date and even though things got in the way I sacrificed SLEEP in order to get this done. SLEEP. (Blood. BLOOD.) Also, my Christmas letter won't be done until next week. P.S. Email me your address if you want my card and letter. That's all. Now leave. )

Things I Learned Today (Matt, this blog post may in part be about you)

The little hand soap in our kitchen? There is a GIANT refill tub under the sink. I was wondering how it lasted so long. I wonder who refills it.

I really know amazing people. When I disappear for eight (8) hours I get all these missed calls and text messages and "Where the HELL are you?" And then when I finally go home there are two women standing at the door saying "Where the HELL were you? WHAT happened?" And then I say, "calm down, sit down" and they say "maybe you should get a drink" and I say, "maybe YOU should get a drink" and they, surprise!, have already been drinking, thank God I didn't come when they were sober.

Some things never change. Some people never change and sometimes that is absolutely wonderful.

Eyebrows, Revisited

This blog post is for my mother who keeps complaining that she "doesn't get" my blog. Today was the day to get my eyebrows waxed again. You might remember previous experiences in this department and the dissatisfaction I had with the whole affair. Well, some things never change.

It's only been eight weeks since I was waxed. That is only two more than the recommended amount and I would have gone two weeks ago but my life was a little crazy. Actually, a lot crazy.

In I waltz and she says, "where have you beeeeeeeeeen?"

I ignore her.

"It's beeeeeeeen awhile, hasn't it?"

I nod.

"Do you leeeeve farrrr?"

Well there's an awkward question. If I say yes then I'm telling her that I would travel all over the greater Los Angeles area to get her to do my eyebrows. If I say no then she will yell at me about why I didn't come sooner? I mumbled unintelligible things.

"Hmmm, just the eyebrows or the lip too?"

Just the wax or do you want the tip too?
NO, NOT THE LIP. I HATE YOU.

Then she proceeded to wax and pluck and craft away.

Finally, she said, "I'm sorry theeeeesss is taking so long, I'm just ... shaping."

There's a reason she charges half as much as Mystic Surf Barbie. (And speaking of Barbie, the comments from the first brows post have landed many a reader here who googled "biggest boobs in the world." Sick. Oh and don't go search it now.)

The Break Up Mix

She said you’d found someone
And I thought of all the bad luck,
And the struggles we went through
And how I lost me and you lost you
What are these voices outside love’s open door
Make us throw off our contentment
And beg for something more?

It’s not even my Break Up Mix. I wasn’t even listening to it because of a break up. I was listening to it for the music. I mean, Jewel, “hearts are broken everyday.” Sing it, honey. It’s good music.

But I swear it has special powers. Special depressing powers. I was on my lunch break and I was running errands. I had to get stamps and envelopes for my Christmas cards and I had to pick up the pictures and I had to get lunch and and and and all of a sudden I was all depressed.

What? You’re out of Christmas stamps? You’re out of all stamps? This is the end of the world!

Then I went to the University bookstore to get envelopes and a magazine and I realized I had forgotten my card (which I actually hadn’t; it was in my pocket the entire time) so I had to pay via check. This was apparently the end of the world for the bookstore because CRISIS there was a hold on my account.

Now, if there are holds on my account I already know about them. So I very kindly said they were wrong and could I please pay with my check. (Side note: “my account” refers to my University account sometime entirely not related to my checking account or my credit card. Why my University account has any bearing whatsoever on my monetary assets I shall never know.)

Needless to say, they were very mean and treated me like Declined Credit Card Lady or perhaps a Check Bouncing Criminal. And I could have left and just come back later with my card (which, again, ended up being in my pocket the whole time) but it was so important that they understood that I wasn’t a criminal that I spent almost my entire lunch break waiting.

Why do I make stupid decisions like that? It was just envelopes and a magazine. It didn’t matter. Well? I blame the CD. Break ups make you do all sorts of crazy things.

"Ross, what's a pashmina?"

Wedding plans. Secret dates. Cake.

Of course, she only wants to hang out with us because "there's nothing else to do." Or at least that's what we joked.

In reality, we're all too busy. Too busy planning weddings or secret dates or flirting because flirting is better than wallowing.

But when there's cake, there's cake.

"I'm going to follow you, friend."

I'll follow you until it all stops. Even if it never does.

Faulty Ignition

"It was good to see you."

I bristled at his words. They were stock. Standard.

Running into old acquaintances is awkward. Running into him is ... impossible. I shook my head several times trying to clear it away. The glance, the quick decision to dash and then getting stopped before I could. I was never going to dash. That was never the plan when I rehearsed the situation every night just in case. But then, seeing him, it was the only decision.

***

I remember the first Saturday after he left--or maybe it was the first Saturday I got out of bed after he left--I went to breakfast alone. We would always jog to the bagel place on Colima and then split a bagel. That sounds too perfect. It never was. Usually we would argue about attire or cream cheese or whatever and then I would get upset because I was tired of running outdoors and you would roll your eyes and then I would get more upset because I was so misunderstood.

Going alone was like finally being understood. I drove.

***

"Are you guys talking again?"

How she knew I will never know. They say that some people have a sixth sense about stuff like this. I don't understand.

"Yeah, but we're stopping."

Saying it out loud reaffirmed my decision. It was the fifth time I had to reaffirm my decision. The decision that we were stopping.

"So you are talking?"

"Kinda. But we're stopping. It's not working out. It's was an experiment and it's not working out."

I still had to stop.

My Week In Pictures

Only $15 each! (The hats, not the people. Contact me to negotiate pricing for the latter.)


The search for shoes ends successfully. (Although I would like similar shoes in brown still.)


The man in action.


Happiest Place on Earth


Some people get really excited about decorating for Christmas. Us? We get excited about sitting in a car and calling it entertainment.



She's cleaning the carpet. Also, she actually is a rocket scientist.

Dear Santa

I know it's been a while since we talked. Specifically that Christmas when you got my brother presents but none for me because I was too old.

Anyway, I'm excited for your visit this year because we have a fireplace now. Before my dad used to say you would come through the screen door or the doggie door but I always felt like we were getting the short end of the peppermint stick.

I'm writing you to tell you I've been very good this year and also to tell you that Heather has been bad. Could I please have her presents? We would like better, faster internet, all the hard liquor outside of our budget and an Old Navy expense account.

Thank you.

"Sure, Matt'll do it."

Matt left today. We're all heartbroken except for Emily who also ditched us and left with him.

This guy seriously deserves a tribute. How many guys will go into a house with 8 girls and live amongst them?

Also, he's a freakin' genius. He got an IT job in Los Angeles that will pay for him to fly down once a month for work. That means he gets to visit us.

Without further ado...

Why I Miss Matt

1. He helped me with a lot of internet stuff that I can't talk about here yet. But y'all will see soon enough.
   
2. He put up Christmas lights. He even made a Hanukkah room.
   
3. The Christmas lights also double as extension cords which means I can now charge up while being fully reclined.
   
4. The disco club soundtrack that was always on.
   
5. He bought us toilet paper even though no one asked him to because we were so beyond out.
   
6. The sly judgmental looks he gave us when we were watching Hilary Duff music videos instead of studying for finals.
   
7. The body shots at 11:30 this morning. That's all I'm saying.
   
8. That he not only wanted to watch "A Cinderella Story" but took the quiz at the end. (The DJ was his "ideal princess.")
   
9. He totally indulged me and took about 200 pictures of me. He also photographed the rest of my housemates. Then Emily photoshopped the pictures.
   
10. He was the scapegoat for six days straight. It gave the rest of us a huge break.
    
11. He helped Emily cook dinner. He helped her study for her finals. He helped her clean her room and go grocery shopping. And he makes her so happy. Have you ever known so clearly that something is just so right? That a man who will indulge your friend in all her uncommon, extraordinary, idiosyncratic, quirky, nonconformist, offbeat ways is a keeper?
    

Guys, please come home soon. We miss you.

"I want my amygdala removed. The organ deep inside the nasal cavity, which processes scent which then connects to memory. I'd like it extracted."

I was supposed to do important things today.

Instead I didn't.

I'm not making a list of what I did do.

It's too embarrassing.

Something less embarrassing:

A Photo From the Archives




"Ray? Ray Brown? I forbid it."

I hear the clock, it's 6 a.m. I feel so far from where I've been

One of the main reasons I love living off campus is so that I can say things like, "When I lived in the dorms ..." I would, of course, follow that sentence will all my crazy escapades. Escapades like moving benches IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, stalking people I didn't know, copying every CD in the dorm onto my computer, and reading, all the reading.

In about four and a half days I will no longer be "full-time undergrad student." This means that I will start saying things like, "when I was an undergrad." I CANNOT WAIT TO SAY THIS.

My life changed a lot during my time at the university and while my first two years could be defined by staying up all night and finding boys and all the reading my latter years were so completely different. I started working full time and I started living life entirely differently. Better differently but so different from the life of a college student that I felt like the earlier years were another life.

I never knew what to call that time.

I'm not sure what to call this new time now either. In the meantime, I'm going to start rolling out the "when I was an undergrad" stories. Be prepared to be shocked by the escapades.

The Search for Shoes Continues, Unsuccessfully

I hate shoe shopping.

This has absolutely nothing to do with hating shoes. I don't mind shoes. I think they are an important part of every ensemble and a fun way to add a unique twist or to tie in a scarf or belt. (Also, I am making all of this up.)

The problem with shoe shopping is that stores think it's funny to not carry shoes in my size.

I used to go to those fancy stores where they would get out the shoes for you. But this is how it always went:

Me: Could I please see these and these and these in an 11?
Them: Sure, one moment.
They wander into the back. I put those funny sock thingys on all ready to try on the pretty shoes that I have saved a pretty penny to buy.
They return.
They only have one box of shoes.
Them: Um, we didn't have the boots or those brown shoes in 11 or 10. But we were able to find the flats in a 10 narrow. Would you like to try them on?
Me: Sure.
They proceed to maneuver my foot into the small shoe. My toes bend. My arch warps. I start to make "grrruhhh" sounds. Everyone gets embarrassed.
Me: I don't think it fits. Thanks anyway.

When department stores stopped working out I moved on to the chain lo-qual stores and the Maxxes and the Racks. Let me tell you: the Maxxes and the Racks and the chain lo-qual stores might carry shoes in my size but THEY ARE UGLY. Seriously, do people actually wear bright orange pleather heels?

So now I send my pleas out to you, dear readers, where-o-where can I find cute shoes that fit?

My Week In Pictures

Carolyn Kaczynski. And the reindeer? Definitely our neighbors (and by neighbors I mean we pass there house everyday, not we're friends with them).


I colored this sign. (Heather helped.) The Boyfriend is back. Tomorrow he is taking our portraits ANTM style.


A briefly unmanned Krispy Kreme truck that I did not hijack. I also did not steal any donuts. I didn't even flirt with the driver to try to get some for free. Someone give me a prize.


Does this chocolate not look totally Willy Wonka?


Heather got the golden ticket! Immediately after this picture was taken she did a jig in her old man pajamas.




Sorry for so few pictures. My excuse ...

Things I Did This Week That Prevented Me From Taking Pictures

1. Wrote over 20 pages of last-minute word vomit.
   
2. Read lots and lots of books.
   
3. Had three job interviews.
   
4. Went to a fancy shmancy engagement party for Sidebar Jimmy where there was a photographer with a fancy camera taking pictures so I didn't have to. (Also, at said party, had several awkward conversations with people I didn't know and one conversation with a former tenant of my current residence where he explained that a racoon took care of the rat problem.)
   
5. Gave a presentation on the French slave industry in the eighteenth century IN FRENCH.
   
6. Bought lots of fluids at WalMart to get the acid rain sprinkler water off my car.
   
7. Was too busy to wash car. Will post before/after pictures when the job is completed.
   
8. Carefully tracked Heather Anne' Europe escapades.
   
9. Got addicted to the Panda Cam.
   
10. Got everyone at my workplace addicted to the Panda Cam.
    
11. Took a non-drug-induced nap for the first time in my adult life.
    
12. Had another Chipotle Challenge. I won again. I think my secret to success (this could also be considered cheating) is not getting beans.
    
13. Watched TWO episodes of America's Next Top Model.
    
14. Cried because now it's over. Why Tyra, why?
    
15. And finally, wrote this blog post twice because I lost it the first time.
    

The Seven Meme (and I'm only doing it because the number seven is in the number 17 and also because I like to talk about myself)

Seven Things To Do Before I Die.

1. Sell my crap. Seriously, it would be great to only have my laptop and the clothes on my back. Well, maybe more clothes than that. I like clothes. But the rest of the stuff? All the stuff? Please make it go away.
   
2. Speak several languages. People will call be a linguist.
   
3. Be independently wealthy.
   
4. Win a Pulitzer for being investigatory.
   
5. Found out whose freaking donuts are in the kitchen and can I eat them?
   
6. Learn architecture and build a house.
   
7. Stop judging.
   

Seven Things I Cannot Do.

1. Keep a beat.
   
2. Not procrastinate.
   
3. Keep my room clean.
   
4. Hide my laughter. It's everywhere all the time.
   
5. Cut.
   
6. Take crap from people.
   
7. Obey the university speed limit. Seriously, 15 miles per hour? Is that a joke? Pedestrians don't even fall over when you hit them at that rate.
   

Seven Things I Say Most Often.

1. I don't wannnnna go to work.
   
2. My tummy hurts.
   
3. Ahogn.
   
4. My life is a joke.
   
5. Did you guys check Dooce? Did you guys check Heather Anne? Did you guys see Fug? Did you read my comment? Huh? Huh? Oooo, new hits!
   
6. I hate his guts. I hate her guts. I hate their guts.
   
7. I LOVE sauce!
   

Seven Books I Read

1. Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott
   
2. The AP Stylebook
   
3. The Information Highway
   
4. People magazine
   
5. All the President's Men, Woodward, Bernstein
   
6. Your Husband, Your Friend. And by read, I mean we have readings of it out loud in our house. And by readings I mean it's hard to hear over all the laughing.
   
7. On Writing Well, William Zinsser.
   

Seven Movies I Watch Over and Over Again

1. Love Actually. "She's the sexy one."
   
2. Center Stage. "Dessert?"
   
3. You've Got Mail. "Aren't you going to zip zip this card through that credit card machine?"
   
4. Garden State. "He's my knight in shining armor."
   
5. All the President's Men. "Another non-denial denial."
   
6. The Snowman. This is a silent and beautiful film.
   
7. SNL: Best of Will Farrell (volume one). "What did she say? What did Gail say?"
   

90638

I used to think it would be crazy to stay here in this no name Los Angeles suburb. People would tell me I had potential and that I absolutely must use it. Use it to forward whatever cause they were passionate about at the moment because I had that kind of potential.

***

"I like to think I could stay here for at least another couple years," she said.

A couple years seemed so long. I mean she had potential. Why would she stay around this no name Los Angeles suburb?

"It's good to be with people who know and love you."

***

"I always thought it was a dumb reason to stay somewhere," I told him. "But now I think I was wrong."

"I think it's a pretty good reason," he said.

I looked away. That's what I do.

***

"You would love it out here."

I listened. I'm sure I would.

"Seriously, though, I know a bunch of people you would love."

I'm sure I would.

***

"I don't want you to do what I did. You have potential." She was looking at me like I was making the biggest mistake of my life. I tried to tell her I wasn't.

"Abigail, it's a no name Los Angeles suburb."

***

It's good to be with people who know and love and you.

Dear Self,

Remember last semester when you were choosing the last classes you were going to take in college ever and you remembered you had to take one more PE class?

Uh huh.

Remember when you thought that you were tired of softball and bowling and all the other sports you were bad at?

Uh huh.

Remember when you thought that I would be a good idea then to take "Health and Wellness" because it didn't involve any sports you were bad at?

Uh huh.

THAT WAS A STUPID IDEA. Because now you're stuck writing this "growth covenant" to yourself and putting in an envelope and to be mailed back to you in SIX MONTHS. Just so you can see how you've grown.

You also had to fill out two wellness wheels, write two reflections on meditation and relaxation, and write A 3-5 PAGE PAPER ON A WELLNESS PROJECT.

Did you learn anything?

Maybe what it means to eat raw. (And no offense to all you serious raw vegans out there, but when you have to put all your meals in "quotes" IT'S NOT REAL FOOD.)

And by covenant I mean this blog post. I mean covenant. I mean I GREW SO MUCH.

Total Truth Time: I LOVE Britney Spears

It's embarrassing. I know. I just can't keep in it any longer.

I know she is totally white trash and my time is way more valuable than reading about her but I CAN'T HELP IT.

I am having a really hard time even writing this blog post because writing is NOT reading about Britney.

First of all, here are some direct quotes from her and K-Fed's dating show:

• During her quest, Britney hits the stage of a huge stadium filled with screaming fans ("They're all here for me") and travels in her RV ("You feel like you're in a midget home"). She asks tourmate JC Chasez what his favorite sex positions are but doesn't receive much of an answer ("He's shy").
  
  
• Once in London, Kevin goes shirtless, but before he knows it Britney is grilling him on intimate matters and ultimately suggesting: "Let's just screw all day."
  
  
• "You know I'm down for that idea," he responds (in subtitles, to clarify his speech), prompting Britney to boast later, while having her hair done: "Our sex is so good. ... Ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy."
  

And you know the addiction is getting worse when you actually type "Britney Spears" into Google News. Google should really be ashamed of themselves for making this kind of information available to the public so easily.

And you know it's bad when you don't care that it is freakin TABLOID JOURNALISM and you keep reading it.

• A source told me, “He loves his car almost as much as he loves Britney. He was devastated when he heard she’d sent it back to the dealer."
  
  
• Britney and husband Kevin Federline have decorated their baby Sean's nursery as a nativity scene, with Sean playing the part of baby Jesus. The decorations include six waxwork models and several life-size toy donkeys and cattle.
  
  Britney even bought a cherry wood manger for Sean to sleep in.
  
  "It cost an absolute fortune," one source told Britain's The Daily Star. "But at least she didn't have to buy a baby Jesus - because Sean is playing the part."
  
  
• Spears lost it when a friend of Federline's showed up at their house smoking weed.
  
  "Britney turned around and fired two of her longtime security guards for letting what she called 'the weedman' into the house,'' said a source. "She just seemed crazy with anger.''
  

I have to admit, though, my favorite internet Brit indulgence is her letters to fans on Fug.

• "I am fighting the false tabloids and I am trying to help Kevin make an album although HE IS NO JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE and I am NOT just talking about SINGING but you didn’t hear that from me."
  
  
• "I  want everyone to see my bump because my bump proves that Kevin loves me and not just my money even though he also thinks that my money is pretty f***ing sweet, which is what he said to me this morning while he was rummaging through my purse looking for my checkbook."
  
  
• "First of all, he was smoking a cigar to celebrate having the baby and that's totally fine but he actually lit the cigar with a two dollar bill that he set on fire and I told him that we don't have enough money to actually DO THAT and then he told me that a two dollar bill WASN'T REAL MONEY and then I actually had to take him to the McDonald's and buy some McNuggets with one before he would believe me that it was and honestly I am getting a little tired of his behavior."
  

But doesn't she look pretty on the cover of this week's People magazine?

Very Yes

Hello.

I haven't sleeped. I figured, you know, this is my last semester, I have two days left, I MIGHT AS WELL DO ALL THE FINAL WORK IN THE LAST TWO DAYS.

As usual, I'm brilliant.

I've done all sorts of tricks to fool myself into thinking that I actually slept. I took a shower in the middle of the night, switched between reading laying down and reading sitting straight up, checked my email compulsively and eventually went out for breakfast. After breakfast I went to work where I pretended to be coherent. Strangely, I was nicer than usual.

Now, I'm sitting in a classroom waiting for everyone else to show up so I can pretend to be coherent some more. Outside in the hallway, some freshmen undergrads are discussing the UCLA/USC game that took place over the weekend. They keep saying "we" did this play, "we" did the score, "we" wept after "we" lost. Newsflash, "we" aren't on the football team for either university nor do "we" attend either university. Oh, sports fans.

Lots of interesting things happened to me over the past few days but I'm never sure if I'll remember them.

That's all. I need to go write three more papers. Catch ya on the flipside.

My Week In Pictures

And here's your best shot:


The investigatory Mona Lisa:


First fireplace of the season (and yes that is a computer in the foreground. It's everywhere):


Family Portrait:


O'Hare International Airport:






Happy Hanukkah:


His name is Dragon:

There's a reason hygiene begins with high

I have brown hair. This will come as bad news to my mother who has told people for the entirety of my life that my hair is, "strawberry blonde." This also comes as bad news to those people who tell blonde jokes because people, I'm not your average brunette, I mean I have a strong personality (P.S. I LOVE blonde jokes).

The shampoo makers, on the other hand, are really excited about my hair color. So excited that they made two different flavors of brunette shampoo: "nutmeg to dark chcolate" and "toffee to almond." And by flavor, I do not mean they taste like dessert. Apparently my hair is supposed to fall in those color ranges.

Well, I settled on the latter and I people noticed.

"Hey, Abs, did you get a hair cut?"

"Did you do something different with your hair?"

"I really like your hair today."

It's either the secret ingredient, "leaf extract," or the fact that I washed it.

Since all good things come in pairs (Mary-Kate and Ashley, for example) I decided I needed to get the conditioner too.

And my mom can't totally be lying about the hair, so I thought maybe the "cherry bark extract" in the redhead conditioner would bring out my natural color.

I think it did. Or my hair's just clean.

Intermission

Sometimes, at the workplace, I have a lot of time to think.

Too much time to think, really.

Things I think about while I'm at work:

1. Who is my reader in Tuscany? Is he single?

2. Tyra's judging is a little tricky. I mean, did she really make the right call on America's Next Top Model? Because sometimes, I hate to say it, but she is rather inconsistent.

3. People are dumb. They make my job sad.

4. Has it really only been six minutes since I last checked my email? Oh, I'll check it again, anyway, just in case something happened in the last six minutes.

5. Why hasn't anything happened in the last six minutes?

So, then, this post is to prove that:

a. I am very productive at work.

b. I have had nothing but cough syrup for the past three days. I blame all problems on this.

c. People should email me.