The Long Weekend.

It was a good weekend. I mean, yeah, there was screaming and crying and fighting and then some furniture-moving, but there was also stuffing. Which makes up for, like, a lot. I even got to sleep in on Wednesday, a pretty damn awesome occurrence in the middle of the semester. And I got sent home from work early today because, shockingly, no one wanted to brave the supposedly apocalyptic storms (Although looking outside I see mostly rain? Is it getting worse? Or am I just stupid?) to buy the new book about Andrew Jackson. Although several people did call to say that they were camping out for the Joyce Meyer event tomorrow night.

Um. Okay. It’s winter. And snowing. But hey, whatever blows your self-help skirt up.

But it’s over now and I have to brave the supposedly apocalyptic residue to prove that the Bible isn’t a fraud in Hebrew Studies. And then actually show up again on Wednesday. *woe*

Three more weeks. And counting.

I am rather tired.

I worked, like, all freaking day. And then decorated the house. In our new if-you-don’t-actually-eat-it-it’s-so-totally-not-worth-it style. It’s significantly more minimalist. And that’s okay.

Nothing fun happened at work. The guy I was working with told me that his niece started wearing a training bra, which really made me just want to begin drinking heavily. Oh. Some guy had me take his picture with his cell phone and send it to his wife because he just got new glasses and she would apparently find them hilarious. Whatever, dude. Leave me the hell alone. So I guess that was pretty funny.

Not worth going through eight hours of it, though.

Reason #548 That I Would Not Make a Fantastic Housewife.

Although I do come with a house now. A house that I totally mine and I will love forever despite the fact that I’ve been told sixteen different times today, “OMG what if you meet someone and move away and then we need solid-surface counters? WHAT THEN???” Except for the laughable idea that I would ever let anyone tell me where to live. The amount of work I’ve done? Johnny Depp could show up and be like all “I want to marry you and have lots of sex and babies!” and I’d have to reply, “As long as we can do it in my beautiful kitchen with the integral sink and extra hole for that squirty water hose thingy.”

So now I have solid-surface counter tops. And a sink that my mother helpfully pointed out was big enough to wash a baby in.

Or, you know, drunkenly start a small fire fueled by dissertation papers. I’m guessing that’s more likely.

ANYWAY.

Pies.

That’s why I won’t make a good housewife. I always make the pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving. Well, that’s not true. My mom obviously used to make them, and then we made them together, but the last couple years I’ve done them. And I love it. It makes me feel downright domestic.

I just ignore things like how long they’re supposed to cook or the fact that they have to cool. I kind of forgot about them being in the oven because Criminal Minds was on. And then I kind of didn’t realize that you need to leave them out for like FRICK THIRTY minutes. My dad offered to set his alarm and I’m all, “What? Why?” and he’s all, “Your pies. They are hot. And need to cool. Idiot.”

He didn’t call me an idiot. I added that. But I’m guessing that’s what he was thinking.

Stephen Colbert is *apparently* intrinsic to my faith identity.

We all know that last summer I read My Life with the Saints because of an interview segment. Lately, I’ve been looking for a new saint. Or rather, I was on a website that was totally not a fan blog and totally not reading comments when the woman who runs the site mentioned that she lost her St. Benedict medal and wanted a new one for Christmas. I immediately thought 1.) oh, that’s kind of adorable, and 2.) I WANT ONE.

Except not St. Benedict. Because I am not a spelunker, a monk, or suffering from a gallstone issue.

*Please note: I do not want everyone who reads this go out and buy me a medal like that year when I mentioned A History of Violence was kind of a cool movie and I ended up with more copies than Viggo’s mom. I asked my mom for it, I’m thinking she’ll take care of it. :)*

Anyway. I needed a saint to put on the medal that I want. I don’t have a saint. I already have a crucifix and a Miraculous Medal, so I’m out of luck with those. I kind of got screwed at birth when my parents didn’t give me a saint’s name. My confirmation name is Elizabeth, but that’s mostly because I didn’t want to end up with a FOURTH Christian name.

So I am forced to search for patronage. Which is fine, I am almost positive that in the two thousand years of Church history, surely someone has gotten a useless doctorate. Right? Or art history. I mean, during the Renaissance, the Church was the only reason there was any art.

I’m positive that at least one cardinal was in it for the glorification of Christ and not just something nice to show his mistress when he walks her through the hallways. (“What’s the stench, honey?” “Oh, just our souls. But look! Bernini!”)

Obviously not.

Because there is no patron saint of historians or theological historians (which I’m halfway convinced is just something Marquette dreamed up to bilk me out of another 30k a year), at least not officially. Apparently, Bede is the front runner, but all the pages are blogs and I found as many saying that he wasn’t. Also, he is famous for mistranslating some primary sources, and I do not need any more help in the mistranslating department, Bede. Thanks but no thanks.

Art history apparently doesn’t exist at all as a profession (In the real world either! Ha! I’ll be here all week!), and the closest you can come is archivist or archaeologist. *sigh* I am not an archivist or an archaeologist. I am interested in High Renaissance and later. The didn’t bury a whole lot of Caravaggio’s.

The closest two were Catherine of Alexandria (by far the best Catherine) or Jerome, both of whom are apparently more helpful than God when it comes to intercessions. If I were a travelling knife maker in Piceno, Italy who moonlighted as a wheelwright? I’d go to Catherine. A monk who is also a librarian, and struggling with anger issues? Jerome.

St. Jerome seemed like a good choice, as he is apparently the patron of all things dorky and scholarly, and hello! If you were a girl we’d be finished by now!, but not history per se. And since I haven’t exactly written that thesis on the synoptic vs. Johannine traditions yet, so I feel like a fraud going to the Biblical scholarship guy. (Although maybe he could help me with financial aid?)
Also, I kind of want a girl.

So we’re left with Catherine! Who is like perfect, except if we’re going for specifics. (Which, apparently, I’m not as my chosen profession doesn’t require intercession. I beg to differ, Vatican. Y’all are priests. You have the cushiest gig EVER. Did you ever have to write a dissertation while your eggs were falling out of you at approximately one every twenty-five pages? No? NO.)

I’m sorry. I’m a little bitter.

She’s the patron of female students, which I am. And she’s supposedly wicked helpful, and I need that if I am ever going to be gainfully employed. In a rather ironic note, she supposedly appeared to Joan of Arc, which only makes sense if you know me, but if you do, then it totally does! And she’s had a bunch of pretty paintings done of her. So we’re almost at art history. Certainly closer than “archivist”.

And Catherine is as close to Kathleen as you can find.

There you go. Saint found.

It’s her feast day, so that’s why you got this ridiculously long post tonight.

Various and Sundry Items:

Because I am entirely too exhausted for punctuation or, like, sentences or something crazy like that.

-I’m very exhausted.

-I would like to advertise for anyone who wants to drive my brother to school on Wednesday. It is my first day off in like ALL SEMESTER LONG (That’s not true. But it’s been awhile.) and I really want to sleep in and yeah, I don’t care if you’re a pedophile, Criminal-Minds-type-unsub, or wielding a hatchet. Just have him there by 8:20 and we’ll be good.

-OMG THANKSGIVING COMING SO HAPPY OMG

-Apparently, I know someone who commits insurance fraud. Huh.

-PBS is currently showing the documentary “The Rape of Europa”, based on a book that I got for Christmas last year and love quite possibly more than my parents. Nazis? Paintings? Nazis and paintings? I am there.

-My page-a-day calendar is a painting of St. Catherine of Alexandria. I think it was a misprint, because her feast day is tomorrow, and that seems too close to be just like, oh, we’re going to put this painting here…Tomorrow, you’ll get a post about St. Catherine of Alexandria and my long quest for a patron saint and WHY IS THERE NO PATRON SAINT OF HISTORIANS I AM NOT AN ARCHAEOLOGIST. *ahem* That is forthcoming.

-I am going to bed. Good night.

Happy Birthday John!!!

Unlike last year, I am not too wasted to give him a birthday shout-out, especially on this, a rather unpleasant birthday.

(I am, however, not even going attempt to link to last year. Way too much work.)

Despite the fact that you were clearly the favored male child in our little abode, the last sixteen years have been quite fun, and know that we all know what you’re going through, and no, that doesn’t make it any easier. But still. Support! And all that!

Yeah. Art history is coming freaking early, y’all, after my Manhattan-on-an-empty-stomach. So good night!

Congressman, no one watches C-SPAN.

Ahaha. It’s no Sarah Palin, but SNL was funny tonight.

Today was massively exciting. I restrained myself from killing several customers who annoyed me to extreme extents (A few hints: If the person you are buying a gift for is already in law school, an LSAT prep guide is not appropriate. Also. If the person you are buying a gift for is already pregnant but not far enough along to not worry about miscarriage, don’t buy her a pregnancy book. We do not sell Gosh, I Hope That Amniotic Sac is Really Securely Attached to Your Endometrium Gift Sets.). I washed my hair. And my sheets.

Yeah. It was pretty exciting.

Come on Get Higher- The Most Embarrassing Shuffle Ever

1. Put you music player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. Tag 10 friends who might enjoy doing the memo as well as the person you got the memo from.

Ahaha. This was fun. A disclaimer: I am, quite possibly, the biggest dork on the planet. I could go to ComicCon and no one would want to hang out with me. So please, be nice. 🙂

(Oh, I did skip Christmas songs, because they’re not usually on my iPod.)

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
King of Pride Rock, Lion King. (Perhaps I just roar at them.)

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Go Your Own Way, Fleetwood Mac. (Um, this actually kind of makes sense.)

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
The Tudors Main Theme, Trevor Morris (I like them to be royal. And crazy. Crazy royals.)

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY:
Domine Jesu (Requiem Mass), Mozart. (Spooky. If you asked me “how are you today?” I would probably answer “Lord Jesus…” Less praise and more, OH MY GOD WANT TO DIE.)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Benedictus (Requiem Mass), Mozart. (I don’t think so…)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Let Me Fall, Josh Groban. (That’s kind of cool, I guess.)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Livin’ on a Prayer, Bon Jovi. (My friends think I am a down-on-my-luck couple from New Jersey?)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
California Dreaming, The Mamas and the Papas. (Definitely not. I have no desire to ever go to California. I do daydream a lot, though.)

WHAT IS 2+2?
Here Without You, 3 Doors Down. (???)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Somebody Told Me, The Killers. (I don’t know. I don’t think that my best friend has a boyfriend that looks like a girlfriend that I had in February of last year. At least not that I know about.)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
One Last Shot, Klaus Badelt. (Um. No. Hope not.)

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Beethoven, Symphony #9 in D Minor. (I am long and classical and there is a hefty German woman screeching in the middle somewhere.)

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Collide, Howie Day.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
You’ll Never Walk Alone, Barbara Streisand. (Okay…)

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Mandy, Barry Manilow. (My parents think I am a lost love? I guess?)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
At Wit’s End, Hans Zimmer (No, I will not be dancing to an eight minute song from the third POTC movie.)

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I Did it For You, David Cook. (Yes, it was all for you. AND NOW I’M DEAD AND YOU SHOULD HAVE APPRECIATED ME MORE.)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Bad Day, Daniel Powter (Wow. Flashback. Remember when this was big for like five minutes? Anyway, I do have a lot of them. But I don’t think it qualifies as a hobby.)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
My Immortal, Evanescence. (Not even close. Or even a song that reminds me of my biggest secret(s).)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Eyes on Me, Celine Dion (No comment.)

WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
I’m Yours, Jason Mraz (I suppose being so hot that other people melted would be troublesome.)

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
The Star of the County Down, The Irish Rovers (Well, I suppose writing about County Down may kill me. And this song- with different words- was actually played at my grandfather’s funeral. So that’s kind of weird.)

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
The Scientist, Coldplay (Actually, one of the things I regret is not taking the CLEP chem exam and getting some lab credits.)

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Honey, Honey, Mamma Mia Soundtrack (Well, the weird little giggle after Amanda Seyfried says “thing” kind of makes me laugh.)

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Up is Down, Hans Zimmer (I did cry at the end of the movie.)

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
To Where You Are, Josh Groban (I’m going to be a widow?)

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
I Say a Little Prayer For You, The cast of My Best Friend’s Wedding (Love the movie, but people breaking into song in the middle of lunch is rather terrifying.)

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Follow You Down, Gin Blossoms (I have a stalker?)

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Bad Boy, Cascada (Maybe I would change my fascination with Europop.)

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Only Time, Enya (I guess “Everything” was asking too much.)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Come on Get Higher, Matt Nathanson. (I have a higher level of self awareness.)