"I always skip Wednesdays." (Tim Riggins, FNL)

In high school I:

• Never went a day without having my nails painted.
• Owned no real t-shirts.
• Never left the house without everything looking just. so.

In college I:

• Had my nails painted some days.
• Accrued more than 50 t-shirts.
• Never wore pajamas to class and rarely wore a hoodie out.

In real life I:

• Sometimes go days with chipped nail polish or unevenly filed nails.
• Wore a hoodie to work. Twice.
• Had to talk myself out of wearing a t-shirt today that has been previously used to exercise and sleep in. And I wore a baseball hat.

At this rate of decline, in ten years, my wardrobe will consist solely of housecoats and slippers.

This could be looked at as a sign that I'm letting go of some of my perfectionist control freak tendencies. But...

I ironed both the sleep/exercise shirt and the shirt I ended up wearing. Both of which had to have navy in them to match the hat. Then I lint rolled the hat because it had fuzzies on it. On the feet were black flip flops instead of brown to match my black bag. Finally, I went through several pairs of earrings and necklaces before settling on ones that went with the casual and effortless look I was going for.

It turns out that even when I'm being a lazy slob I'm still a perfectionist control freak. Maybe I don't need to say hello to the housecoats and slippers just yet.

Satan's Minions in Austin

I don't know how well-documented it is on the blog, but it's a well-known fact amongst those who have known me for at least five minutes, that I have a very real, very rational, very powerful fear and hatred of birds.

I can primarily trace it back to my first viewing of "The Birds," and even more so after "The Birds 2." Yes, it was a supremely inferior and cheesy remake, but it took place off the Outer Banks, which is only a few hours from where I grew up. Thus it stands to reason that if it could happen there, it could happen anywhere. And hiding under a rickety wooden boat while seagulls peck it, and me, to death is not how I want to go. (Though, for the record, I still can't get over how utterly fake and offensive their portrayal of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was. I've been to the Lighthouse both before and after it was moved circa 1999, and it never looked like that.)

Those who do know me wouldn't believe it, but it actually has gotten better. The abundance of filthy, mangy, cocky pigeons in Chapel Hill, London, and D.C. made it so I had no choice but to chill a bit if I ever hoped to leave my dorm/flat/apartment. Though it still doesn't preclude me from:

• Going out of my way to avoid minions on the sidewalk.
• Having friends act as buffers if in a bird-infested area. (i.e. Trafalgar Square).
• Switching tables or seats if I'm at a restaurant or park where they are congregating.
• Hyperventilating and almost crying if one gets too close.

Which brings me to the point of this post: the birds of Austin. Seriously, not to be all Jerry Seinfeld, but what is up with Austin birds? There is some species of black, exceptionally pointy-beaked bird in the area that has the most annoying and jarring squawk/call/"I will kill you" sound that I've ever heard. It's one part smoker's hack and one part theme music from a horror movie. Not even exaggerating there. It starts out sounding like it might be musical, until you realize it's an ominous interlude before digressing into a hacking cough. I would not have been the least bit surprised to see a bird meander by like Hitchcock while puffing on a Marlboro.

I had noticed it within my first few days there, and it got more scary when I was eating brunch at Whole Foods and one bird was stalking my table. I kept trying to shoo it away, kept moving the table to scare it, but still it got within pecking distance. A girl at a nearby table kept staring, but I didn't care, I scarfed down my breakfast taco and got the heck out of there.

And three days later, just a few blocks from the same Whole Foods, a flock of at least 200 birds made their way down Sixth Street, just a few hundred feet ahead of my path. They all would move as one, and then land on any available service they could find, lining the street, for reasons I don't want to know. I started shaking and walked as fast as I could to get away. I know I'm a drama queen, but even my more rational side told me to get out of there. (As to why the birds seemed to congregate in the Whole Foods area, I don't know. Maybe they were just looking for some organic strawberries and granola.)

Austin may have great weather, cool shops, and an interesting vibe, but as long as it also has demon birds, I'll just stay put here.

Evolution of the Hamster Ball/Mind of Bonnie

If you saw the closing ceremonies of the Olympics last night, you may have caught these wondrous globes during the Russian portion:(Picture from MSN.)

People rolling around in human hamster balls. I squealed in delight. And this is why.

I have a seriously obsessive personality when it comes to just about everything. I can't just start watching a TV show, I have to see every episode and research it until I know its history and purpose. I don't just read a book, I look up the author's life story and visit their web site/blog/twitter. If I see a grammatical error somewhere, I can't focus until I've fixed it or left the area. I missed the bulk of a lecture in college once because the end of the professor's tie was flipped up and it's all I could focus on. And if something catches my interest, I file it away and it pretty much never goes away. Thus I present: For the Love of the Giant Human Hamster Ball.

It began with this, on American Gladiators, circa 1990:

Next I took the concept and applied it to one of two rainy day inventions, after a particularly awful rainy day junior year, circa 2005:

Then I learned that you can apparently buy your own from, somewhere, like the guy from the Flaming Lips:

Then I heard about this, the Zorb, which gave me hope such as I have never known:

And finally, I saw this, which made me realize we really are never alone in this world, and that I'm not the only crazy one:

And there you have it, one of my Bucket List items: take a ride in a giant hamster ball. If you're still my friend after this, God love you, and feel free to take a ride once I get my hands on one.

Also, I've had this post in drafts for a year trying to make it just right. I wonder if there is an anti-obsession pill I could take. Like a chill pill! (Or is that what Prozac is for?)

Day 275: Bailout smackdown

One of my favorite lines from Friends is when someone tells Phoebe to "dial down the crazy." I have pretty much adopted this as my mantra in life. I fully embrace my weirdness, my neuroticness, my geekiness - aka my life - and am not ashamed of any of my crazy quirks.

However, I do have just enough social grace to realize you can't let it all hang out all at once. No need to walk up to someone and say, "Hi, I'm Bonnie, I sleep with a blanket, can't touch raw meat, have been known to alphabetize the books and DVDs of others, and have an all-consuming fear of birds. How are you?" That being said, in a discussion at work about organization I admitted to owning multiple label makers, alphabetizing everything, color coordinating my clothing, and having mild panic attacks when things are not as I want them. The multiple label makers and clothes coordination got the biggest reaction. Oh well. At least I haven't labeled the colors. Yet.

Note: my new thing could have been hanging around outside the Capitol whilst the Senate debated the bailout. However, the roommate refused to cooperate with my desire to spy on/wave at/interrupt the proceedings of our government. This is technically also new as I normally attempt to enlist Karey in my plans to infiltrate official business. At least she had a good excuse, she was already infiltrating, I believe Brandie was just tired.