I should get back to posting here about things that make me laugh, because I need to do something to make myself less disgruntled. So:

Today at work, my coworker Tom was telling stories from a retirement party he went to on Thursday (it was for one of the hospital's pulmonologists, so it involved a lot of people who've worked at this hospital for an entire generation). Apparently, one of the attendees has a son who's a TV/film producer, and he works for the Spice channel. This person was unaware of the nature of the Spice channel and thought it was like the Food Network, which... I guess I could see the logic behind that one. Anyway, another coworker responded to this with, "Next time I see this guy I'm going to ask him what's been cooking on the Spice channel!" I couldn't resist suggesting she ask him if he'd gotten any good recipes from his son lately, and Tom piped in with "Well, you know, they mostly cover hot dogs and buns."

On an unrelated note, Tim just woke the cat up because she was snoring.

Okay, I know the internet picks your browser ads based on your cookies, or the websites you frequently visit, search keywords, and the like. On the vast majority of the web, the ads I see are for shoes and handbags, because I like to look at those things online.

Facebook, of course, has to be different. It likes to give you ads based on your profile. And while I was routinely entertained by "Earn your Pharm.D. from the University of Florida!" (hey, maybe a second one would do me good?), I am NOT thrilled with "custom-fit plus-size bras," six million diet programs, and today's straw that broke the camel's back - discounts on QVC's exclusive plus-size clothing line.

Look, I know I've gained 20 pounds in 3 years. I'm not thrilled with the way I look, to the point that I'm considering several minor cosmetic procedures in the year-plus before I get married. Even when I was a size 8, I was routinely informed of how inappropriately large I was, how obesity is a big public health problem and I'm setting a bad example for my patients. I know that I'm "not smart enough to stop eating," and I'm used to having to work harder and be smarter to be taken seriously despite my size. But... do I have to be forcibly reminded by marketing every time I log into Facebook?

I now have the same relationship with LiveJournal as I have with TV series. I am so far behind on both LJ and House that it seems like an insurmountable project to get caught up. So... I just ignore them. And I've let the DVR self-delete almost a whole season of House for space reasons, and I've let three months and several major life events go by without even looking at LJ.

I feel like getting fully caught up would stress me out. So I'm going to make a brief list.

- Tim and I are getting married 10/1/2011. :) He proposed on my birthday, for which I was COMPLETELY convinced I was getting a blender or some other kitchen appliance. (He pulled the "wrap the ring in a box inside a gigantic box" trick, so the blender-sized box sat wrapped in birthday paper in our living room for two and a half weeks before my birthday, and I didn't have a CLUE what was in it.)

- My dad has managed to stump the entire Western New York VA healthcare system with an autoimmune paraneoplastic syndrome. It's unusual for such a syndrome to occur in the absence of active cancer, and it's been conclusively proven that his lung cancer is totally gone (believe me, they'd have found it by now, since he's been scoped and scanned from top to bottom). It's rare enough that there are only case reports to refer to, and even those are inconsistent. If I were an oncologist or researcher instead of a pharmacist, I'd be writing a paper about this.

- New Job (well, not so new, since today was 3 months) remains pretty good. I was a hundred percent right to want back into hospital pharmacy, and I'm happy I stumbled on the opportunity I did. I just ordered the review books for the BCPS exam, and once I find an educational program on "how to trust your instincts and/or stand up for yourself," I'll be well on my way back to Drug Geek-ville.

- I've become addicted to the outlets. This should surprise no one. They sell shoes.

I just spent way too long doing an elaborate holiday-themed manicure that didn't even turn out perfectly, but it'll be good enough for the Hartford St. Pat's parade (although I'm not going if it rains). But in the spirit of NOT completely neglecting my internet life, I'll update briefly to say:

I LOVE MY NEW JOB.

That is all.

I'm in Buffalo! My parents' cats are following me around, which I find kind of hilarious. (The running joke is that I was always the cats' favorite, and they're kind of mad at me for leaving them alone with the crazy old people.) I haven't even given them the catnip mice yet.

Okay. Wow. LiveJournal FAIL, Rebecca. It has been exactly four months. And I'm not sure my 11/1/09 post really counts since it was just a makeup post, haha...

Probably the biggest development in the last couple of months was that I have finally found an inpatient job! My last day of LTC dispensing was Friday, and it wasn't even a horrible night like most Fridays are! (Hospitals tend to push a lot of discharges to nursing facilities out at the end of the week so that people don't end up just chilling in the hospital all weekend. So Friday nights are batshit insane for the pharmacy sending the drugs to all those people who just got out of the hospital.) So I'm off this week and I have HR orientation at a community hospital a few towns over on Monday morning. I'm WAY excited to get a chance to be a "real pharmacist" again.

But before I do that... I'm going to visit my mom! She's already booked us hair and nail appointments. Also, I bought cat toys. (Tim and I went to Buffalo for five days at Christmas, and unquestionably the best thing I took home was the three-pack of catnip mice. The fat tabby hasn't jumped that high in YEARS.)

Also, if I have any readers left, and they know anything about clothing: I have a bridesmaid's dress that is almost, but not quite, a full size too big. Do I return/exchange for the next size down and hope it zips, or do I find a tailor and risk spending as much as I paid for the dress getting it sized down from a 12 to what amounts to a 10.5? I'm torn.

Because I forgot, and because I'm sure _erin wants to know even if no one else does...

( a few recently tried mascarasCollapse )

So, three weeks later, I get around to posting about my dear old friend Tracey's wedding!

I drove from CT to Hamburg on Thursday, making it with just enough time to change into a church-appropriate outfit for the rehearsal. However, there was one wrinkle in my church-appropriate outfit: I'd forgotten to pack shoes that were suitable for black straight-leg pants. (I was wearing clumpy brown Mary Janes to drive - seriously, they feel like sneakers - and the only other shoes I'd brought were my open-toed sparkly bridesmaid shoes and essentially motorcycle boots, which were entirely too bad-ass for the House of God. They also would've looked weird as hell with a silk blouse and prim cardigan.) So I texted my mom from a New York Thruway rest stop and asked her to go find me some shoes. There was much laughter at me, of all people, not having shoes, but she came through for me and met me in the church parking lot with a pair of suitable slingbacks. When emergency shopping needs to be done, Mom never disappoints.

After securing footwear, the rehearsal was pretty smooth, with the exception of the groom having some sort of stomach virus/hangover combination that culminated in the bride-to-be driving him over to the maid of honor's house for IV fluids and anti-nausea meds. (The maid of honor, another old Hamburg girl, is an EMT. She swore that other than this, she was COMPLETELY off duty for the wedding and did not want anyone having heart attacks or injuring themselves.) We were also provided with a lengthy list of Things Not To Do In The Church by the priest, including "no writing bawdy sayings on the soles of your shoes" and "no smoking in the church." (Seriously.) The other two bridesmaids and I acquainted ourselves (I walked up to a knot of people who looked affiliated with the wedding and said "Hi guys, I'm the fourth bridesmaid!" and it was like a light bulb went on over their heads), and we ended up sitting together at the dinner along with the flower girl and family (she was the MOH's daughter). The flower girl proceeded to bust me for eating a cookie before dinner because she had been explicitly told no cookies until dinner; the only excuse I could come up with was "Well, my mommy's not here so I'm being a bad girl."

The wedding itself was really lovely, with the bride looking positively stunning and the groom having made a complete recovery. However, we three bridesmaids missed a lot of the ceremony because we were on flower girl duty. I knew Paige was the MOH's daughter, but for some reason I thought she was older than four and a half. At that age, they totally don't have the "sit still and quiet through a Catholic mass" concept down, and she came up with some serious laugh-out-loud one-liners throughout the ceremony. Highlights:
- Turning to me about a third of the way through and announcing, "This isn't my favorite church." I told her that it was Aunt Tracey's favorite church and because it was her wedding she got to pick.
- Simultaneously dropping a flower out of her arrangement AND stepping out of her shoe right as we were supposed to go stand on the altar. I reassembled her as quickly as I could and then looked up to see that the entire wedding party was up front except for us, so we scurried as quickly as possible to our positions.
- Asking Emily, one of the other bridesmaids, if they needed to wait until the line went down to go get a piece of cheese (she thought the priest was handing out slices of cheese for Communion).

Also, on the topic of Communion... we probably should have more explicitly warned the priest that the only practicing Catholics in the wedding party were the bride and groom. We actually briefly huddled during the sign of peace to determine if any of us were eligible to receive, and here's how it went:
Me: Is anyone planning to go up front for communion or should we all just stay in the pew?
Emily: Well, I'm Jewish...
Nikki: I'm not Catholic either.
Me: Okay, in that case I'm not getting up because then we'll get out of order.
This made for a slightly awkward moment when the priest, in full regalia with sparkly chalice in hand, signaled our row to stand... and nobody moved.

After the ceremony, we tried to go take pictures at Woodlawn Beach State Park, but it had started to rain during the ceremony and the bride was unable to put her dress down anywhere without ruining it. We did a couple group shots in the covered area, then rode around Hamburg in the limo and drank beers until the reception. I have to really hand it to Tracey and Dan for how well-executed the reception was - instead of numbering the tables, they gave them names of meaningful places in their lives; they had the bridesmaids' dates escort them in instead of matching them up with random groomsmen when they announced the wedding party, giving the DJ a list with everyone's names (and pronunciation guides). They also had adorable favors - fancy triangular tea bags in little paper wrappers, which we promptly dubbed "tea-pees." (I'm not sure how Tim and I ended up with six tea-pees. I think we might have collected a whole table's worth somehow. But the tea was delicious.) There were all the usual wedding reception trappings - food, dancing, bouquet tossing (caught by Emily the bridesmaid) and open bar. It was really a lovely wedding, with a lot of the couple's personality in it, and I was really excited and happy to be a part of it. :)

I have a ton to post about - went to Buffalo for a wedding two weekends ago, rapidly losing patience with coworkers who are older than me yet act twelve, numerous mascaras to log reviews of - but I simply do not have it in me to generate it tonight. I fail, I know. But... I need my ass-sitting time.

A vignette from this morning:

6:00am, suburban Connecticut. A couple - TIM and REBECCA - stirs in bed.

TIM: Honey.
REBECCA: Mrrmph?
TIM: Honey, what's that noise? That buzzing sound?
REBECCA: Dunno.

TIM gets out of bed, goes to living room to investigate. A moment passes during which REBECCA squints at the clock, then buries her face in her pillow. After another beat, TIM scurries back into the bedroom.

TIM: Honey. It's the fire alarm. Get up, we have to go outside.
REBECCA: ... Seriously?

TIM jumps into a pair of jeans conveniently located on the floor. A spectacle-less REBECCA stumbles down the hall and buttons a cardigan over her pajama top.

Yep. Fire alarm at 6am this morning. And I was going to get to sleep until 8:30...