Goodbye. Wish me luck. I'm sooooo going to need it.

I kept wanting to write a post this week, about all kinds of things (for example: Have you noticed that people who drive with their arm out the window of the car, sort of gripping their entire car like it's their shaft, are always dickface drivers? I have.) but I'm leaving tomorrow morning for a huge conference. And not the fun kind, where you're an attendee and you can sneak off for booze. No, the kind that I'm helping run, where I work a kajillion hours and drive with coworkers in a rented car for 13 hours and where I'm not allowed to drink any alcohol the entire time I'm gone. The week leading up to the conference has basically been hell. And it was also finals week for Roomie.

So here is one photo from a post I don't have time to write, because I have to wake up in four hours:

Yeah. We had a car break down. So we got towed by a tractor.

Reasons for not blogging

Here's me: I get up before dawn every day (on a rare occasion even early enough to go to the gym) and then leave the house while the rest of the household members are just waking. Then I drive 1 hour and 15 minutes to work. Then, they still expect me to work all day (seriously!). After all that, I have to drive back home. Guess how long that takes? Yeah. A long freaking time. Next up: Cooking dinner. (Please don't make me explain why I cook dinner for Roomie despite my horrific days. Trust me, he's more than earning his keep). Then there's eating. Then dishes. After all that, I'm ready for bed. Except I'm poor right now, so I've been doing some freelance writing to make extra cash. So before I go to bed, I work on that.

I know. Woe is me. I'm the big dummy who decided to move across the country, thus deliberately making my life harder. Boo and a bigole hoo.

However. I have upsides to report. Writing freelance trivia stories is the SHIT, compared with writing for a newspaper. I mean, it's trivia. Definition: trivial. So it doesn't have to be timely. No one has ever asked me for a nut graf. And attribution?  Not really a huge whoop. It's HEAVEN compared with newspaper writing.

Also, my mom and dad sent me a box the size of a medium-sized dog. The box was stuffed with gifts and hand made cookies, candies and dessert breads. The box gushed love. The stuff was practically seeping out of the seams. I didn't know you could mail love like that. I thought it was restricted, like mailing paint thinner.

Oh, also. I had a birthday. I'm 30. I went to Charleston. In Charleston, I did some fun stuff, like saw sea turtles. Right up close and personal in little tanks at the sea turtle hospital at the Charleston aquarium. We were instructed not to put our hands on the edges of the tanks, lest they snap off our fingers. They were hungry.

Hewo wittle turtle! OK, I kid. This sucker was like 250 pounds.

This was the scotch sampler at this sweet cigar bar upstairs from a tobacco shop in Charleston. I like scotch. Scotch, scotch, scotch.

I also like a crab shack that has buckets set into the table for your crab shells. It's just damn convenient. (And yes, his sweater says "COMPASSION" because he's the BEST kind of hippie. The kind who's nice and likes animals, but still eats them, and who also smells good.)

And another thing that's maybe small but perhaps also worth mentioning. Things? For me? Since moving? Pretty hard. But the guy I moved here for with? Totally, 100%, worth it. Seriously. Want to know how strong your relationship is? Try living together with your partner in his parent's living room for awhile.

Actually, you know what? Don't do that. It's terrible.

In other news, here is a weird thing about the south: Girls here are really into monograming everything. I'd been told this more than once before I figured something out. I'd seen cars all over the place with these stickers across the back windows. The stickers were usually pink, curling cursive letters. Three letters. I kept thinking they must be letters signifying high schools or sororities. But that's because I'm stupid. You've figured it out, haven't you? Yes. Girls here monogram their CARS. With big stickers in ugly, overly-feminine fonts.

And no, I didn't get one for my birthday.

Oh, one more thing about southern girls: If they don't like you, they can be MEAN. And, well, if you're doubting my sincerity, let's say I'm a pretty keen judge of mean, having practiced the art misself. I'll say this: I'd think long and hard before starting any sort of shit with these southern girls. That is, if you're given the chance to avoid it. I'm not entirely convinced it's possible.

Related note: I have a new favorite new phrase, one I'd love to try out in a sentence: "Now, I don't mean to be ugly, but ..." and then say something suuuper mean/insulting/likely to start a fist- and/or knife-fight.

So that's it for now.

God bless America.

Wait, no! Sorry! I mean, Merry Christmas!

The Road part 2

So I drafted this post ages ago, and while I'm now way past all that, I've realized I'm incapable of moving forward until I publish it. It has no bearing on where I am now. Not physically, not emotionally.

Le sigh.

...

So here are some photos.




















Eastern Oregon: Sorta bleakly pretty.


















See? Still pretty.



















Idaho maybe?

















And Salt Lake? Pretty. My friend has a mountain growing up out of her back yard (basically).


















But Nebraska and Wyoming? So boring.

Though Wyoming made for some OK boring desolation photos.

















And the country basically stayed boring until I got to North Carolina, where there were some trees that were sort of pretty.

















Although they were probably prettier about two weeks ago.

Yeah. So. I meant to take photos of the people I visited on my way out, but totally forgot.

Thing is, I have my moments, but I still don't really feel "here" yet. Maybe it's because I'm basically homeless?

Yeah. It's probably that. Apparently homelessness doesn't agree with me.

Let's leave it there.

Stay tuned. I'll try to get (at least mildly) funny again at some point in the future.

If you want a good moving story (That is, it's a good story about moving. Not a "good, moving story," which would be a story that's emotional. I point out the distinction in case you have a hard time with punctuation.), a funny one, you should go read this one. While I was moving away from Bend with two dogs, Allie from Hyperbole and a Half was moving there. Hilarity ensued.

The coast is clear

OK guys. Sorry about that. Those of you who missed it, here's the scoop on my absence: I'm interviewing for a job with a company that's fairly conservative. Like, it's safe to say that I won't be playfully calling anyone "bitches" while at work, at least until they really get to know me. Well, maybe not ever.

Which is fine. I'm all for new experiences, that's what this move is about.

But they wanted to see some of my blogging experience, and I was like, uhhh .... yeah ... OK, wait a second ....

then I exported this blog to another place with a nicer title, and deleted a bunch of posts, and edited swear words out of others ....

then I was like, "Yeah, you can totally see my personal blog, but it's just silly personal stuff. I'm not sure it's even relevant," and since I had so many other awesome writing samples (when I'm not blogging or on twitter or le Bookface, I actually tend to keep my verbal shit together, believe it or not), they didn't even bother to look at the shadow blog I spent hours culling.

Anyway. I'm getting encouragement to keep up the shadow blog, so I'm posting this one in both places, RBR and MOU until I decide what to do. That's sure to encourage loyal readership, right? Right?

Hmm. Probably not. Meh.

Anyway, I have tickets now. I am going to fly out to meet the prospective job peeps on Sunday. My flight leaves at 6:25 am. Which means I'm flying 12 hours, in three planes, across country the day after a two-day going away party. Sounds fun.

Also, I need a suit and I need to get my hair done. And work extra in preparation for taking two days off next week while I charm the pants off of some business folk as well as Roomie's mom, dad, grandma, step-mom, aunts, uncles, cousins, step-brother, step-sister and five-step-nieces and nephews.

Holy shit. That's like 15 interviews in two days.

So, you know. See you later. I'll try to update from the road.

Okaaaaaaay

It's Tuesday, and my big plan for the week is already blown. The big plan wherein I wake up early every other day and walk as fast as I can up the hill behind my house. Except, you know, the hill behind my house is Pilot Butte.





(I like the nasty industrial stuff in the foreground from this pic. This town was suuuper classy in 1984.)







I know it's only 500 feet up, but -- wait, yup. 500 feet is a lot. Or it feels like a lot in a 20-minute fast walk. Especially at 6 a.m.


Anyhoo, here's how I've been entertaining myself this week:

Blogsite soundtracks via Frequency (Click the button! You know you want to!):






Imiagining the awesomeness of living in New York and thus being able to participate in Karaoke Chatroulette, a combo of everyone's favorite things, jerking off and karaoke, over at Unapologetically Mundane.




Watching Date Night with the Roomie, and beginning to plot our next Halloween costumes: Sex Robots. Also, in case you were wondering:





(Yes, please.)












Oh! And if you miss the dirty dating blathering of everyone's favorite nearly-defunct blogsite, DatingIsWeird.com, know this: Good things are on the way. New guest editors, a new look, hell, maybe even a post or two.




And lastly, if you, too, are depressed by craptastic weather (it's snaining here today), and you don't already know who The Snuggler is, go check it out. I'd embed the video, but everything I try keeps on not working, and it's really pissing me off. So now I have to go watch it on a different page, because the weather and Adult Swim are out to get me.

Also, if it happens to be nice and spring fresh where you are, please shutupaboutit already.

Oh how I love B Cup Bitches

What did bloggers do to entertain themselves before Google Analytics?

Search terms that have brought people to Run Bitches Run:

1. b cup bitches
2. bouncing boobs
3. bra bitches
4. panty crease workout

I'm pretty sure these people were disappointed with what they found here.

So, to make someone feel a little better, I'm going to post a highly disturbing video I found thanks to Kama Mama.



Seriously. If that guy was my personal trainer, I'd ask for a refund.