Textually Promiscuous

Liver and Onions

2012-01-31T19:32:00.000-08:00

My doctor had me go to do an ultrasound today to check on my liver. He didn't really give me any reason why except for my "liver levels were high." I have no idea what that could mean for me or my future, but I made the mistake of looking it up on the internet, so now I'm worried. I either have hepatitis B, C, or cirrhosis. The only problem with that is that I've never had a blood transfusion, am not a slut, and don't drink heavily. Oh, and I'm deathly afraid of needles, so the chances of me sharing one are fairly slim.

So, hopefully there is nothing wrong. But of course I won't get any feedback on this ultrasound for 2 weeks, so I guess I should just forget about it. So I went home, caught up on Hoarders and subsequently filled up my trash bin just on the downstairs floor alone.

I guess this is the third thing on the list of things you can't have at once. It used to be just your love life and your professional life, you couldn't make good on both. Apparently, if you do have both, your health goes.

Did I mention my sugar levels keep going up and down, so I've been instructed to cut back on my sugar intake?

I'm going to go cry and drink some water.

Lasting Effects

2012-01-18T00:28:00.000-08:00

I went to the doctor this week, and we are trying a different type of medication, and I'm doing an ultrasound for other reasons at the end of the month.

He also told me that over the past year my glucose levels were bouncing up and down. I knew that I had been going overboard with the sweets, but when I thought back to why, it came down to a friend who didn't want to eat chocolate alone.

I was never really big on sweets, like my mom. However, because of this "friend" I sort of got a taste for it that I never shook. When I really sat down and thought about it, I needed something sweet at least once a day, if not two. It was a bad friendship, but until this week I had no idea of the lasting effects that it had caused; I was actually had developed a bad habit that was bad for my health.

It also made me think of other relationships that have had bad lasting effects. My cousin told me when I was very little that Nana (her dad's mother) didn't really love me, and whenever we were together she was just being nice to me. When you are a kid, you pretty much take things at face value, and what she said made sense at the time. Nana made them clothes and did things for them that she didn't do for me, but they did all live in the same city.

At the cousin's wedding a few years ago, I sat down and had a conversation with Nana, and she made a comment that she missed me and wished I'd call once in awhile. I brushed it off, thinking that she was again, just being nice. She died around the same time as my dad, and when I emailed her daughter to give my condolences, and she told me that Nana asked that she bring my thank you notes to the hospital before she passed.

When I found out about that I cried for so long, because not only was she gone, but there was no chance of getting to know her. Years that she wasn't just being polite, but she actually did like me, and I could have had another grandma. She wouldn't have even kept my thank you notes if she didn't care. An entire relationship lost because of one comment that my cousin made.

Now I have to worry about being diabetic because of another lasting effect of something someone else manipulated me into doing. I'm not saying they are all 100% to blame, but I'm still disappointed that other people can mess with my life that much.

The Miracle of Life

2011-12-26T23:15:00.000-08:00

There was a death in the family this month. Like all deaths, it was expected yet unexpected. It was a parent of my husband's this time, which is altogether a different thing from 2009 when I dealt with my side of the families deaths.

This week I watched the Hanukkah lights slowly burn down and finally out, like life. I have to be strong for my husband, but in that moment, with the lights one by one going out, I let myself think about how life is like a candle, starting out burning bright, and slowly going out.

I started the year about to turn 30, and without a job. I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, and started thinking that maybe those weekly pill boxes might not be such a bad idea after all. I did have a job lined up, and I managed to keep it before the end of the year, which has been nice. I hope to get my thyroid medication working next year, enough so I can lose weight and think about having a baby. Maybe.

I want to have the energy to enjoy life, before death comes knocking at my door.

New Car, New Life

2011-11-02T18:14:00.000-07:00

I got a new car, and a few weeks after I got a new shift at work. A shift that required me to wake up about the time that I was usually going to sleep.

It's been pretty bad, but the worst of it isn't that I have to wake up early, but the fact that in order to get 8 hours of sleep, I have to be asleep by 7pm. People always say that it's awesome to get off of work early, but honestly when you have to be in bed by the time senior citizens are eating dinner, it pretty much kills life.

Thankfully, we just had another shift bid and I'm back to being a night owl again, which is what I love. I also have a person I love back on my team at work, and 1 day off with my husband again instead of zero, which is nice. It will be great to be back on the same sleep schedule, where we share a bed for more than 2 hours at a time.

When I posted a picture of my car on FB, my 6th grade best friend said "this car is totally you" which meant so much to me. I feel like I'm getting my life back a little.

If only my thyroid meds were working better. It's been 6 months, and all I've ended up losing is 4 pounds. I'm eating under how many calories I'm burning a day, and 4 pounds is all I've lost. And I'm still very tired all the time. I guess that means it's time for another doctor's appointment.

The Mom Car

2011-08-31T13:38:00.000-07:00

So, I hate my car. I've hated my car since I've gotten it in 2006. I was forced into buying it, and sometimes I wish I had thrown money into my first car and just kept it. My car now feels like a mom car, and I hate feeling fat and old in it.

My car is now approaching 100,000 miles, the magic number where you can't get anything for it. I feel like my sentence should be up with this car, and I want it out. I want a car that I connect with. Maybe I watch too many Herbie movies, but my first car and I had a relationship. I talked, it listened, we worked as a team together. I had a connection with it, and we were good together. I want that again. I want to trade in my mother-in-law of a Camry for something younger, hipper, and more me.

I test drove a couple different cars the other day, and I found myself thinking more into the future with my car choice. The car I choose will be the one I cart my future kids around in. I don't want to be the mom that doesn't think about her kid's comfort and carts them around in a tiny car. On the other hand, I'm not going to go out and buy a mini-van and drive it around for 2 years before I have kids.

I can't believe that I'm thinking about cars and babies at the same time. This is silly. I'm picking out a mom car.

Uneasy

2011-05-23T22:23:00.000-07:00

I went to get my blood test and see where my thyroid was. Everyone I've talked to said that it would take at least a year before anything would happen for me, and to just be patient. Everyone told me this so much, in fact, that I called and left a message with the doctor to just call me and let me know when they'd called my new prescription into the pharmacy and I'd go pick it up.

I got a message back from one of the nurses to call her. I didn't understand why she just didn't call in the prescription and leave me a message. After an entire day of playing phone tag, she finally called me when I was able to answer the phone.

"So, your level is at a 2.(something). You're fine. You can keep taking what you are taking." I was shocked. I had no idea how to respond, because so far I'd felt no improvement. Sure, my limbs weren't losing circulation the way they used to, and it felt like the depression was gone, but I associated that mostly with being able to work again, and having such amazing co-workers. But, apparently, something that took everyone else years to accomplish, I'd gotten in 6 weeks.

"I don't feel any different. I still have no energy, and I haven't lost any weight." I told her. She responded with give it a couple of weeks, and make an appointment if nothing had changed. Maybe it was something else, she said. I don't want anything else wrong with me. I just want people to stop asking me when I'm due.

Then the last week of training at work, something happened that just happened to take place beside me, and I almost lost my job. I can't get into it, it's far too convoluted, but it made me think I might not want to be at this company. They were asking things of me that compromised my integrity. They also basically made me dance like a monkey for them in order to keep my job. Then they told me that I had to tell my new supervisor the whole story, as part of my punishment. I'm still waiting for the Scarlett "A" that I'll need to sew onto all my clothes.

My new crew doesn't seem like this, which makes me pray it was an isolated incident with those particular supervisors. I really need the money, and the emotional support.

The Most Amazing Thing

2011-04-30T22:07:00.000-07:00

I had 4 weeks worth of beginners training at my new job. I start 3 more weeks of deep training next week. I'm still in awe, because when I lost my last job they told me they couldn't take 8 hours out of their busy schedule to train me on something that people have degrees in. My new job is entry level and I get 7 weeks of training. Huge difference.

The last three days of training we got into groups and did a scavenger hunt. We went all around the office, doing all the tasks and taking pictures to post to Twitter to show the trainers what we were doing, and learning about the culture of the company. It was fun, it was great teambuilding, and we had a blast.

On Friday we had to do a presentation about what we did, and I edited together a video and set it to the current #1 pop song. It's the perfect montage song, and we ended up winning the challenge. We were given a $100.00 giftcard to go out with the team to a nice dinner.

All at once, without any talk, my team just gave me the gift card. They told me to take my husband to a nice meal, and we'd all go out to eat some other time and to have fun. Because I edited a video that helped us to win.

These are the amazing people I'm working with now. Ones that recognize that I worked hard and gave me the credit. I'm not sure that's ever happened to me.

A Bi-Polar Week

2011-04-09T23:13:00.000-07:00

I started my new job last week. It is everything and more that was promised, and I love it there. While I'm in training, and for hours afterward, I was really happy, all week. We all went out for happy hour on Friday, and I had an awesome time.

But today I've had time to think, time to regress back a little and think about other things in my life. The week before I was back home visiting and helping out at a show. I love being home because it's so much better than my current town, which is vapid and everyone is a fake.

But something happened back home. I saw a friend in a different light, and it changed our friendship. I no longer want to call her up and tell her how my week went, because I have the sneaking suspicion that she really doesn't care. I began noticing that whenever she called, it was about a problem she was having, and there seemed to be no time for my worries. Her troubles with her boyfriend far outshown my new issues with my thyroid problem. She even seemed to ignore the fact that I'd told her before I came that not only would I be tired all the time, but I'd be a little cranky too. She insisted on bringing a friend with us everywhere who I don't like, and I really didn't like the way she was treating her new boyfriend.

While I was there she seemed to grow impatient with me if I didn't answer her texts right away, even though she knew I was out trying to help my mom. Yet she showed up late to places and it seemed to be okay. It seemed like she had become the kind of person that I avoided. I hated that I felt like I was losing a friend. Even on the last day I was there, after telling her to please call me before she flaked out on me, she called a solid few hours after she was supposed to show up to say she wasn't going to show up. I felt hurt and betrayed, and then after some mis-communication I got another passive aggressive note from her, in a public forum. It was the final nail in the coffin for me.

I've even given her the address for this blog, and told her how much writing means to me, but she's never logged on. Maybe someday she will, and she'll see this, and know it was about her. But somehow I think not.

So I left home disheartened, but waking up at 5AM the next morning for the job. The job is so great though. I was so happy all week, riding along on a cloud. Everyone I met I loved, and I feel like I'm finally making friends in this town. But today I'm thinking about it, and I'm sad about a friend that I feel like I've lost. In her mind, nothing has gone wrong at all. That makes me more sad.

The Pep Talk

2011-03-18T21:00:00.000-07:00

In almost 7 hours I will be 30. My New Years Resolution was to not fret about this. To think about it in a positive light. To not concentrate on how I should've accomplished more by now, but by how now everyone will take me seriously because I'm not a "twentysomething."

It's hard. But it will come, and time will pass. I can't stop time from coming, and I will be another year older. I've been sick for the past few days, and have no plans tomorrow because I have no friends in this town. Sure, I might get a few posts on my stupid Facebook Wall, but that's all that is happening tomorrow. Even my mom said "give me a call tomorrow if you feel better."

For some reason I keep thinking about how my 21st birthday didn't turn out the way I wanted it to either. It was smack in the middle of spring break, and everyone went on vacation. I had my then future husband and my family. We went to my favorite prime rib joint, and then the future hubby and I went to the bar for a drink. The bartender asked for my ID, and didn't even wish me a happy birthday. We shared a big fishbowl drink that was sort of tasty, but way too big. Then he just drove me home, and I went to bed. No party, no big deal made. It just passed, and I was disappointed. There were no surprises.

Tomorrow will be the same. I'll wake up, we might go out to lunch before the hubby goes to work. And then I'll be alone. I'll make dinner, and I'll watch a movie, and I'll go to bed. No fuss made, no surprises.

I'm not fond of this friendless pattern. But when I think of posionious friends I've had, I'd rather be here then dealing with issues they have on my birthday. At least my birthday belongs to me.

It may look like I'm doing nothing, but I'm actively waiting for my problems to go away.

2011-03-04T23:05:00.000-08:00

"I can't wait..." has become my new catchphrase. I say it out loud, but I say it more to myself. I'm becoming a little obsessed with Future Me.

During mealtimes, I say to myself "I can't wait until my stomach is small enough that I can't use it as a table."

Looking in the mirror after a shower, "I can't wait until my tummy is smaller than my boobs."

Putting on a low cut shirt, "I can't wait until I drop from a C cup to a B cup again. I look like a fat hooker. There is no chance of 'perky' with a C cup."

Looking into my closet: "I can't wait until I fit into....any of these, really."

I just realized I need fat clothes for my first day of work in April. Maybe I'll get some money for that from family...for my 30th birthday.

Sigh. Is it the future yet?

"So, When Are You Due?"

2011-02-28T20:53:00.000-08:00

While I was paying for my oil change today, I got the dreaded question, again. The slightly older saleslady smiled at me and said "So, when are you due?"

It stings. It always stings, but this time I knew it was because I wasn't looking forward to how it was going to feel the rest of the day. I knew in my mind that it would haunt me the rest of the day. It would eat away at my self esteem, until I was in sweatpants on the couch watching "Pretty Little Liars" feeling incredibly sorry for myself.

"The cars are ready" I texted my husband, who was inside the store; "forget about the ice cream on the list."

Don't Rain on My Parade

2011-02-21T20:16:00.000-08:00

When I announced to friends and family that I had a thyroid condition, most expressed their relief that I was on my way to recovery. A couple of good friends knew my struggle to lose weight, some even saw it firsthand. But, there were a couple of people that were quick to be negative. They said my problems wouldn't all solve themselves with this news, and that it might even be other problems on top of the thyroid and I still wouldn't lose weight.

I thought, "Really, the only thing I am is fat. If I can lose weight, the rest of my problems will take care of themselves, because they're a complication of being fat. Then I happened to look into the specific thyroid condition that I had, and more things became clear.

I had thought that the depression of not having a job had made me extra lazy, until some family came in this weekend and we went out. After a couple of hours I really wanted to go and die. The thought of the walk back to the car made me want to cry. We played Apples to Apples the next night, and I had a hard time enunciating words during the game, long before the drinking even started. After just one drink I just stopped talking unless the words were less than two syllables so I wouldn't slur.

First symptom of hypothyroidism: Fatigue and Sluggishness.

They wanted Hot Dogs this weekend, so we went to a famous hot dog "stand" that turned out to be just that. We had to eat outside, and even though the temperature was a windy 65 F, by the end of the meal I couldn't feel my ears, nose, or hands.

Second symptom of hypothyroidism: Increased sensitivity to cold.

After a game of Apples to Apples, we moved on to Drunken Uno. After awhile I realized I was holding my cards with one hand, and stretching my arm with the other, then alternating. My legs hurt because of all the walking we had done that morning, but I hadn't worked out my arms at all. Why did they hurt so much?

Third symptom of hypothyroidism: muscle aches, tenderness, and stiffness/Pain, stiffness, and swelling in your joints.

"What kind of shampoo do you use?" I asked my family member. Her hair is long, and healthy looking, and amazing. I've never had amazing hair, but it has always been very thick and easy to manage. Lately I've been wondering why the old standby shampoos haven't been doing much for me. I've changed shampoos so often lately that it just became part of my regime when shopping: I never buy the same shampoo twice. I just thought they were making shampoos more and more crappy. I'd also been using my cortisone cream more and more often, but never thinking anything of it because I live in the middle of the desert where it's always 0% humidity.

Fourth symptom of hypothyroidism: Dry, brittle skin and hair.

I think this thyroid thing is going to solve more problems than I even knew I had.

Results

2011-02-16T11:10:00.000-08:00

I sat in the doctors office, my heart pounding. My mind kept going back to all those reality shows with the obese people sweating through a workout. I was going to have to go on one of those shows. Obviously all the working out and eating right were not going to be enough. The doctor was going to tell me nothing was wrong, that I was just a lazy fat person. I was only going to get bigger, and soon even Lane Bryant wouldn't be able to get me into clothes.

It was over.

He walked in the door and sat down. I braced myself for the bad news. Almost all I could hear was my heart in my ears.

"Well, you've got a thyroid condition, for sure. Actually about 1 in 8 women have this; basically your thyroid just checked out. You're tired all the time because your metabolism has been in the toilet for a long time. Now, sadly, this is for the long term. You'll be on this medication the rest of your life."

I looked up at him, relieved. "I can live with that."

I think I can finally start to live again because of it. I'm on my way back up.

Hand Holding, Fist Clenching

2011-02-08T16:03:00.000-08:00

That little virus I had turned into a week-long sickness that made me glad I didn't have to call into work. Since Job A doesn't start until April, I have a long time to basically do all the things I wanted to do but never had time for.

I had decided if offered Job B, I wouldn't accept it. I would be leading them on, and then leaving them in a ditch within a few weeks, as Job B wasn't going to start until March. I knew that wasn't the whole reason I didn't want to accept the job. Though the job was perfect for me, the interviewer sort of rubbed me the wrong way.

When asked to describe the job, she answered with "Well, I don't do a lot of hand-holding here." With that term, I flashed back to my old job where I had asked someone to show me how to do something I'd never done before, and the response was "Look, I can't sit here and hold your hand through this." I think people who use this term are of a certain kind of people. The kind that want you to read their mind and get everything right the first time, so you are screwed no matter what you do.

In the interview I was asked if I required a lot of "hand holding." After inwardly wincing, I answered honestly, and said that training needed to happen or all was lost no matter what job it was.

"Look," I said, "Starting any new job is like someone slapping a fish down in front of you and telling you to fillet it. They don't give you a knife, they don't 'hold your hand,' they just tell you to fillet the fish and walk away. What would you do? I always ask for guidance on things, examples, places to look so I can figure it out on my own. But I don't know about you, but I have no idea how to fillet a fish, and I'm not about to waste anyone's time hacking one up just to see if I can happen upon the right way to do it. I'm the sort of person who likes to get it right the first time."

I really think the rest of the interview went very well, she even seemed to respect and admire my fish analogy. I asked her how the office ran, as it was between only a few people in a small office. She said they talked rather than emailed and kept a very close relationship. I told her I also would rather talk than use an email to communicate important things.

A few days afterward I sent her a thank you note, and indicated I hoped to hear from her in the coming weeks. When I decided I wouldn't take the job I forgot all about it, until yesterday I got....yeah, an email from her telling her they were going with someone else. I felt relief, because I didn't have to turn anything down, and a little sad, because I wasn't wanted. But, after remembering her speech about communication and "hand holding," I knew I was better off. I was ready to move on.

And I went to get blood work done today to find out if I have a thyroid issue. And despite my intense fear of needles, I didn't ask for a butterfly needle this time, took all 6 vials like a champ, and didn't even whimper.

I wasn't able to unclench my fist or relax when told to, but at least they didn't have to hold me down.

TMI?

2011-02-02T22:38:00.000-08:00

Monday I had to wake up early to go to the doctor. I told him about all my symptoms, he agreed it might be a thyroid condition, and set me up for blood work to be done next week. While I was there I asked him to take a look at my tonsil, which had a white spot on it. I just wanted to make sure it was nothing serious. He told me it was the beginning of an infection, just gargle with salt water and it should come out. He said he didn't feel it warranted antibiotics, and I agreed. It really just felt like I had a bit of food stuck in my throat, otherwise I felt fine.

Later in the afternoon I went to the interview with Job A. The interviewer was a very nice guy, but seemed to be holding back, as if peaking at me through a set of drapes. He dissed my resume, saying I should have dates and my entire job history on it. I mentioned I used to work at a video store, he asked if I had seen a particular obscure movie. I didn't know it, that seemed to be a point against me. I found myself floundering on questions I normally would've answered with conviction. Then a team leader came in, and apparently she was on the "good cop" side, because I had no problems connecting to her and showing my stuff.

I was returned to the first guy to take a test, which, once we got to the testing area, was being used. He turned to me, saying "I assume you know how to cut and paste?" He asked. "I'm a master cut and paste-er." I said, and he laughed. He told me to send him a complete resume and he'd get in touch with me.

I felt like he didn't like me. I really wasn't sure, he really did seem to hide behind a veil, as if he didn't want someone to see how he actually was. It shook me, and I was sure I had screwed it up.

The anxiety grew more and more as the day wore on, and I couldn't stop my mind from freaking out about my whole life. I started to wonder why I hadn't asked the doctor that morning for some anti-depressants. Obviously this wasn't getting any better...what was I going to do?

At 2AM I finally laid down to try and sleep, and felt something come from the back of my throat onto my tongue. I went to the bathroom and spit it out, and it was the spot on my tonsil. It was the size of a peppercorn, and I was grossly intrigued by it. I went and got a flashlight and looked at my tonsil, and saw a huge hole in it.

Suddenly, seeing that crazy hole, I felt better. It was the same feeling that cutters describe, the release of concentrating on a physical pain instead of the emotional pain. I suddenly knew everything was going to be okay. My throat started to hurt, but I took some medication and went to bed.

By the next morning, Job A called to say I got the position.

Subconscious, Subconscious, Go Away

2011-01-29T06:56:00.000-08:00

My mom was sitting on the couch, watching an old family movie. I knew she would do this when it was time, so I put it in for her and we sat and watched it together, holding hands.

She looked over at me and told me to take care of my sister, and not to be worried that this is how she had decided to end her life; before her health got too bad and the "quality of life" was down. I told her she wasn't leaving me with many instructions, like what belonged to who in the house. She said I could figure it out, and walked out of the room.

I awoke with a start, 6:00AM. This time I didn't burst into tears right away and wake my husband, I held it together until I could leave the room. Then I sobbed, and worried that my dream was prolific, and wanted to call my mom right away. It took me 15 minutes to realize it was Saturday and when I talked to her last night she said she hoped the cat didn't wake her up because she wanted to sleep in. I emailed her to call me, and now I sit and wait to see if my subconscious is correct, or if I have to just stop watching the last season of Buffy before I go to bed at night.

1 down...

2011-01-28T15:59:00.000-08:00

I just finished my interview with Job B. It sounds like something I'd be really good at, and she said it's basically going to turn into doing the social media for all the employees of the property. It's a lot of writing, and I love writing. I really think I can do it, but I just don't know. I'll be called next week to either be out of the running or in for a second interview.

My mom and one of my friends said I should take job B if offered, and then if it doesn't work out, just quit and take job A (If I got Job A it wouldn't start until April, which would give me time to see if I like Job B). I just don't know, it seems wrong.

I guess I'll figure out how I feel after Monday's interview. Wish me luck!

Self Esteem at an all time low

2011-01-25T21:24:00.000-08:00

I think what I need, more than anything right now, is someone that knows me really well to remind me of how awesome I used to be. Because right now, I feel worthless. I feel stupid and not worth anyone's time. I feel so alone.

I got an email today to interview for another job (Job B)on Friday. The job that I've been waiting for (Job A) is set for me to interview on the 31st.

Job A was voted a top Forbes "Best Place to Work." It's answering phones and doing customer service, but it has potential to do more of the things I'm interested in.

Job B pays more. I've worked for the company before, however, and there is NO chance of them being a "Best Place to Work" anytime this century. I've been burned by them before. But this is a different location, and it's, please excuse the expression, "a grown up job." But, with grown up positions come grown up consequences. I can see myself working too many hours and it losing it's fun quickly.

I'm still shell shocked from the last job. I gave it my all, and I got dumped. My job situation is very very very much like dating. I had a guy, the guy wanted to take it to the next level, I said okay. Then he got distant and moody. I keep asking to have a talk with him, but he ignored me, and then without any warning dumped me. I've been dumped before, and I'm gun-shy about it now. I almost feel like what's the point? I'm going to end up getting hurt anyway, and is it something I'm doing? Is it me? Is it the guys(job)? And what do I want to do with my life anyway?

My New Years Resolution to myself was to not worry about turning the big 3-0. To take life lightly, and let myself off the hook about feeling like I'm not where I wanted to be in my life. Does that mean taking Job A? Because if I really wanted an important job when I turn 30 in a couple of months, Job B would be it.

I'm lost. I'm alone in my feelings, and it feels like no one understands how horrible I feel about my whole life.

Inner Voices Vs. Inner Child

2011-01-23T01:15:00.000-08:00

I read a sentence from a book on Amazon that said "Can you separate the voices of your parents, your teachers, your friends, the media, and Hollywood from the voice of yourself--your own inner voice?"

It's a good question, and one that I have been feeling a lot of lately. It's hard to think about something as lame as a car while I'm unemployed and just want to find a job to make it by on...but it seems to be something I'm coming back to.

I was pushed into buying what I consider a "mom car" a few years ago. It's almost paid off, but in the meantime we've had a hell of a time together. $5,000 worth of damage from a hit and run, and about $6,000 of solving a pesky "check engine" light problem. It doesn't quite feel like it has power steering...ever. I have to back in and out of every parking spot to get into it straight. The gas tank is enormous, and nearly puts me out of house and home every time I have to fill it up.

I have another car in mind. A dream car. A car that reminds me more of my first car; compact, sporty, everything a Mom car is not. Turns on a dime, has good gas milage, and the dealership has told me that I can basically get a new one and order everything that I want it to have, all the way down to a built in navigation system.

I've never had a new car. My parents never owned a new car. The idea of a car that is all mine and no one else's excites me. I really want it. I have all but promised it to myself as soon as I get a job and can afford it.

But, is it just me? Is it my inner voice telling me what will make me happy and will be better in the long run? Or is it my inner child wanting a toy that no one else has touched before?

It's the same with a lot of things lately. The job I'm up for is a great company, and although it's a starter position, I have very high hopes for it. So high that I'm deathly afraid I won't get it, and will be in serious trouble, because all other jobs have avoided my follow up calls and even outright rejected taking my resume. The last 7 months has been very taxing on my self-esteem, and I just hope when I get into the interview, they don't see that.

Because I really want a new car.

Christmas Movies

2010-12-28T19:00:00.000-08:00

I decided this Christmas season to watch all those Christmas movies that people talk about. They always say how wonderful they are, and how they look forward to watching them all year. I was not impressed by any of these movies.

Miracle of 34th Street-This was my husband's favorite, and I have to admit there is a certain charm to it. It helps that I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is how it starts. But then it just meanders on and on...and as a whole it's a nice movie, but not one I'd ever go out of my way to watch again.

It's a Wonderful Life-So, I really thought that this movie would have more to do with Christmas, but really Christmas was just sort of there while everything else happened around it. And, I'm sorry, but I'm used to seeing Jimmy Stewart not be a huge jerk to everyone, and I didn't like it. He's much better talking to an invisible rabbit or making filibusters.

White Christmas-Again, it was a movie, where Christmas just happened by. A cute enough movie, of course, but I never care about seeing it again.

A Christmas Story-I just found this movie overly strange. Why doesn't he ever bring in the rest of the mail? Why does he want a BB gun so bad? He seems overly influenced by the media, isn't that bad? Why in the world would anyone make an award into a chessy leg lamp? Kids curse all the time, why is it such a big deal in this movie? Don't people know that this movie is based on a bunch of articles written for Playboy? I think he only got that gun because he wouldn't have shut up about it otherwise.

Now, this is the one that everyone thinks is fantastic. About 15 minutes into the movie, I posted a comment on Facebook about how I was watching it, and so far it was overly narrated, which it is. I don't know how that's even debatable. 9 comments later, I found that no one is able to be objective about this movie.

No one has any actual valid reasons for thinking this is a good movie. They just stand by it blindly because it's been part of their childhood, the same reason no one can say for certain why they like "Wizard of Oz." It's because they can't remember their life without it, they can't seem to be objectionable.

What I do instead of buckle down

2010-12-17T21:09:00.000-08:00

I decided today would be the day I started writing a novel I've been thinking about. Unemployment looks like it's going to last for awhile now, so I might as well have a project, something to look forward to everyday.

So I sat down at my brand new desk, opened a Word document...transcribed what notes I had taken about it into the document....

And then I started dicking around.

I checked Facebook. I checked Twitter. I checked Tumblr, even though that site isn't really my demographic. I tuned into Logo and found a Nip/Tuck rerun marathon.

Man, that Quentin fellow was creepy from the start, wasn't he?

And then I wrote a paragraph. I did some research to back up what I just wrote, then realized I hadn't quite set up Skype yet.

So I told my sister to Skype me, and we troubledshot (troubleshooted?) until I figured out the problem with my new webcam. I still can't get Dailybooth to work with the camera.

Then I went back to writing, and turned back on Nip/Tuck. Did you know that the new Kinex for the Xbox only works on white people? Apparently it only picks up white skin. There's gotta be a racism card someone can play and sue them for that...

I'm pretty sure my ADD is too bad to write a novel. But, I'm sure gonna try.

Why I Never Subscribed to Marie Clare in the 1st Place

2010-10-28T21:06:00.000-07:00

So, there is all this controversy surrounding this Marie Claire online article. I heard about the backlash long before I actually read the article. It was exactly as bad as I had feared it would be. Basically she takes on the show Mike and Molly, which she has never seen, and she basically says that she can't stand to watch fat people, and doesn't think anyone should. An actual quote:

So anyway, yes, I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything.

This made me so steaming mad I had to write about it. Her, and the magazine she represents, are the problems with society dealing with people who are overweight.

I recently got paid to write an article about how my overweight ass has been treated in certain stores. Just today I went in to get a pair of jeans and was treated as if I was sewage when I asked for my size (which they do carry, but they didn't have any in stock).

Not only is being overweight in my DNA (both my parents were obese, and their parents), but I've been made to feel like the scum of the earth because I was overweight.

I worked out for 9 months straight once, 5 days a week, with a limited diet. In fact, I had a friend with me doing exactly the same things I was doing. She lost 25 pounds, and I didn't even lose one. My being overweight is not for lack of trying. And because of women like Maura Kelly, even though I try my best, I still feel like someone that can't even walk across the room without making someone uncomfortable.

Jackie Warner was quoted in this article: “We need to handle this as an addiction. It’s an emotional addiction, and that should always be handled with love.”

And she's right. After losing my job, I feel like I can't spend money on anything, especially food. Even though I know it's not good for me, I frequently go without meals in order to save money. Our house is a house of condiments, and my husband gets free meals at work, so he is always taken care of. Even when I had a job and was eating, I was frequently coming in at about 1,000 calories under what I should've been eating. And it doesn't help. I'm still overweight. The scale keeps going up. No matter what I do.

Everytime I want to eat, I look at my body, then I look at a copy of Marie Claire, and lose my appetite. I want to be back to that glorious 115 that I was before my metabolism crashed. If I leave the house, I have to face those people. Those people that judge me, even though I'm just walking past. They don't make it any easier to just go from day to day. The trip to the mall today was so disheartening that I came home and didn't leave again. I don't want to go anywhere, because it's uncomfortable being watched like a monkey in a zoo. A fat monkey. A freak show.

Women like her are the problem. They make it harder to even go outside. It's no wonder most people eat their feelings.

Friendship

2010-10-25T23:25:00.000-07:00

My mom just sent me a link to a story for this book, which is out tomorrow. Basically it started with this woman having a horrible experience in college where she was basically backstabbed in the extreme by a bunch of girls from a sorority.

As I read the article, I became more and more relived to find that I wasn't alone. I've had two female friends my whole life that haven't been backstabbing, horrible individuals. I wish I was exaggerating.

One was my best friend in 6th grade. We weren't the same person, but we fit together, and we were always there for each other. I know people say that kind of dumb crap all the time, but in this case it was actually true. If I was upset about anything, she would be there for me no matter what. I can only recall one fight we ever had, and that ended with us bursting into laughter and forgetting the fight the second after it happened.

Nothing ever happened to break up our friendship, we just started hanging out with different people. We went through junior high and high school never even seeing each other in the halls between classes. She wasn't the type to join Facebook or even really have a computer at all, so I never expected to see her again. As my life went on, through college and afterward, my mind sometimes wandered towards her, but her name was too common to Google without much luck. I always hoped she was happy and everything was okay with her. I knew I'd never really see her again.

Cut to last month, when I went with my husband to Disneyland to celebrate his birthday. It was the end of our annual passes, and we were getting the most out of it, staying at the Grand Californian so we could go back to the hotel room whenever we wanted. Hubby had convinced me to go on the Grizzly River Run for the first time. I had avoided it because it was a water ride, and I desperately hate to get wet and then walk around all day in wet clothes. I agreed to go if we went back to the hotel and I could change into my bathing suit and a cover up.

It turns out it's one of those wet rides where you are in a big round rubber tube with a bunch of other people. It forces people to be social, since you really can't be on your cell phone when water is coming down all around you. We talked with our group until the end of the ride, but it was a little difficult, since most of them didn't really speak English. We decided we were a little wet, we might as well go again, since this would be our last time in the parks. The second time was fun as well, more people spoke English.

As we exited, Hubby said "Ready to go back to the hotel?" And for some reason, I wanted to go one last time. It had been so lonely at home since losing my job, and I was really craving some interaction. So one last time we went, and after the ride and an embarrassing fall down the stairs afterward (my shoes became so waterlogged, I fell) I knew I had reconnected with my 6th grade best friend.

She was in the ride with us, next to my husband, with HER husband, who was...get this...celebrating his birthday. They were staying at the same hotel, on the same floor, and we were leaving the next day, they had just arrived that day. If that one moment hadn't come to pass, we would have never reconnected, never came across each other. In fact it was her mannerisms, and not her face, that I recognized. It was my gut that somehow knew she was who she was.

It was one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me. I feel like, because everything else has sucked lately, fate saw fit to give me a piece of what made me myself back.

And, as luck would have it, Facebook brought my other best friend back as well.

On the relationship front, life is good.

Why yes, I AM stil feeling sorry for myself.

2010-06-25T22:04:00.000-07:00

Today is the anniversary of Michael Jackson's death. His music was everywhere, that heartbreaking clip of Paris as she broke down at his memorial. A daughter losing a father, at such a young age. It obviously struck a chord in me a year ago, and I remember being heartbroken at my desk. A desk that I no longer have.

Even though I've lost 6 pounds in my 11 days of unemployment, I still don't fit into anything I own. My fat pants don't fit. This was fine when I had a job that took me as I was, but now I have to look fit, competent, and ready.

And I'm none of those things. And when I'm alone at night, after Lover Boy has gone to work, and I have time to think, it's devastating. I have a worthless degree, and 10 years of experience in worthless, stupid jobs. That look horrible on my resume.

And it's fairly easy to keep a sunny outlook in front of people. But the nights that I'm alone, It's impossible to fool myself.

All I've ever wanted to be was a writer, and it seems I'm about to be screwed for the last time on that front. I suppose I should feel somewhat flattered that my work continues to be stolen, but I don't. I feel cheated and not any good at the only thing I've ever been good at. Perhaps I'm not even good at it. It's never been confirmed by anyone but my mother and a great high school English teacher. The people closest to me never even bother to read my blog, this or my public one. At it's the people closest to you that are supposed to matter.

But I'm sure I'll lose them eventually too, with this attitude.

Start Out Crying, End up Smiling

2010-06-24T17:13:00.000-07:00

I awoke to an email from my mother about my half-brother getting back to his alcholic ways. It's gotten to the point where he called my mom (his stepmother, whom he's never really been close to), in a drunken state and she came over to talk to him.

His wife is leaving him, and taking the kids. He goes to a bar after work and gets drunk, and then comes home. He's been through rehab and remained sober once, after a DUI.

I cried in the shower that morning. For my brother, his kids, my dad. It just seemed like nothing could work out for anyone.

Then I got an email about a job that didn't exist that I had asked for anyway. They are going to give me some assignments to see how I work out. I'm not getting excited about it yet, but at least there is a ray of sunshine.

Don't Worry...Be Happy?

2010-06-20T19:07:00.000-07:00

Today is Father's Day. Depressing enough, right? It doesn't even feel like he's been dead a year, but it has. And this one has been hard. It seems like every other email is something about Father's day.

But then, Monday my job got eliminated. So I've been unemployed for 6 days now. And since we have a mortgage, I had to file for unemployment.

And I got less than half of what I'm making. For six months. Apparently luck is not on my side.

The only sure-thing job I've found is through a friend, and I know I'll hate it. And I'll get paid at least $4 less an hour than my old job.

I want to hold out for a job that I will love, but this is the real world. The world where I need to pay bills and keep my house and eat. Dream jobs, especially in my field, don't just fall out of the sky. I'm almost 30 years old, this life doesn't have a happy ending. It's game over.

Golden Comedy

2010-06-11T20:45:00.000-07:00

I was flipping through my Entertainment Weekly and came across the monitor for Rue McClanahan. I read it, because I adored the Golden Girls while it was on. I'm fairly certain I've seen every episode, even though it's been so long I'm sure they'd all be new to me again if I watched them.

Or would they?

On the bottom of the page they had their favorite Blanche episodes, and one of them was when Blanche's father wanted her to come home because he was sick. She refused, and he died, and she had to deal with the guilt at his funeral. This struck a chord in me, because of my own father's death.

However, the next episode shocked the hell out of me. Blanche has an elaborate dream in which she finds out her husband faked his death because he couldn't stand being married to her anymore. Sound familiar?

I went onto YouTube and found the episode, and it was all there. The emotions, the trama. The only thing my dream had been missing was Sonny Bono.

My life is a fucking Golden Girl's episode.

If it wasn't so hilarious, I'd cry.

Loss

2010-06-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

There was another "I'm quitting" email in my work inbox today. Maybe it's because I've already dealt with a lot of loss in the last year, but I'm almost having a panic attack thinking that now there are several people that I see everyday that I will no longer see.

The possibilities of dealing with another person, a new person, figuring out what they are like...I don't want to do it. All these people going away seems too close to death. It's too much.

Why can't everything just stay the same until I'm okay enough to move on?

Making it Easy

2010-06-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

It's so much easier to get over a situation when the other person becomes a deliberately terrible person. Thank you, for reminding me exactly what I'm missing: A person who only thinks of themselves, and will be rude and uncalled for at the drop of a hat.

It's official. It's over.

I've been putting off celebrating because I was afraid it would all just come back and I'd have the same problem. Now, its over.

I'm so going out for ice cream after work today. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say life is going to get much better. I'm going to sleep without dreams of this coming back to haunt me. I'm going to be happier, have the energy to work out.

Everything is going to get better.

Recovering

2010-06-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

Even though I feel as if it's not quite over, I'm still going through a recovery process. I didn't think ending a friendship would take recovery, I would just be better the next day. The sun would be shinning, and I'd go on with my life.

But as the weeks went on, I was told by my friends more than once that I was over explaining things, that they understood. It was then I realized how much who I was had actually been effected by the past couple years. It made me think of the first Sex and the City movie where Miranda screams at Steve: "I changed who I was for you!"

For me, I hadn't even realized I had changed. When it was pointed out to me, I was devastated. Devastated that it had taken me that long to get out of, essentially, an abusive relationship. I didn't think it was abusive until I was out.

So my heart goes out to all those girl's in REALLY abusive relationships. It's so hard to see how bad it is when you are in it, I see that now. And it's going to take work to get me back to where I was. And that's so sad.

Cabin Fever

2010-05-16T09:15:00.000-07:00

I got shin splints from using my Shape-Ups and playing Just Dance on the Wii. I woke up on Monday and noticed my legs were really sore, so I went to work and didn't work out that day. Then they felt worse the next day, and the next, and I had no idea what was going on.

It took my co-worker mentioning shin splints to me on Thursday for me to get it. I looked it up on WebMd, and that's what I had. I iced my leg Thursday and Friday night, spent all day Saturday video editing with a friend and keeping my foot elevated the whole time. I didn't work out all week, nor did I even go anywhere, so I have this massive cabin fever.

Sadly, my leg still hurts to walk on. One thing WebMd didn't tell me was how long this lasts. Either way, it seems things like this always happen. I go to work out to lose some weight, and end up on the couch for a week. It's like someone out there wants me to be fat and unhappy. Ugh.

Comment Whore

2010-05-13T14:54:00.001-07:00

I got a comment on the other blog today. It was nice, and it was from a stranger. Betty White who?

I feel better now. :-)

Or, you could, you know...be a friend.

2010-05-12T12:46:00.000-07:00

I made another blog purely for professional reasons. My awesome cousin who freelances for a living was giving me tips on what to do to get more jobs, and one was to have a blog that looked popular. She said "get it on twitter, get a fanpage for Facebook, stumble it, digg it, get it out there."

So I did.

I asked my friends to get the word out on Facebook, so I could at least have a fair amount of people on it as fans so that the widget would look good. They didn't really do it. After months of trying to get it out there, I've gotten a grand-ass total of 28 people. I don't know 3 of those people. The rest are people I invited.

So I'm mad today, because on Monday my friend decided to make a "Get Betty White on Glee" and she already has over 200 people. Where were all those effing people when I needed hits to my blog?

I'm just glad I have this blog to complain to without worrying about updating it on Twitter and Facebook. This is my sanctuary.

Deepest Desire or Worst Nightmare

2010-05-08T00:15:00.000-07:00

This week my dreams have been particularly vivid. Last night's emotional torment took an all-time high.

In my dream I started out in a bottom floor of a building. Lover Boy took me to an escalator and told me we were going up.

I took a few steps up before I realized that there were no sides, and it seemed to stretch on forever. Of course it also narrowed as it went up as well. My heart started racing and I dropped to my knees. As soon as I can't see where it began, nor where it seems to end, it breaks down. I look down into the abyss and start to panic. I can't go down, and I can't bring myself to keep climbing up, even though Lover Boy is a few steps ahead, tapping his foot impatiently.

After a little while I finally get the nerve to move, or more scoot, up the escalator until I reached the top, which was a huge house. Sadly, because it had taken me so long to get there, we had squatters. The people actually consisted of friends I had had in elementary school, and a few cousins I hated.

I found my mom and complained that she didn't take care of anything while I was away, and now all these people I used to be friends with are there trashing it! She told me I was being too mean and I should let everyone live there. It was bonkers.

But I still woke up with that feeling I was stuck on the elevator, too scared to look down, and too scared to look up.

'Cause When the Heart Breaks it Don't Break Even

2010-04-23T10:16:00.001-07:00

I care too much. It's one of the worst faults I have. If someone says to me, "Yeah, but who cares?" There is rarely a time when my head doesn't scream to them "I DO! I CARE!"

It's become a detriment. A weight. And I've learned to not care about certain things. Well, not NOT care as much as realize that there are some things that aren't worth worrying about that much. If dishes sit around for a couple of days, the earth isn't going to rotate right off it's axis. Everything will be fine.

I do this with my friends too. I'm an extremist friend. If you are my friend, and you need help, I'm right there. I'm doing the right thing for you, whether it's tell you that the boy who doesn't like you is an idiot, or trying to win that idiot back. But if one of my friends is doing something really stupid, I'm not keeping my mouth shut. I'm telling them exactly what they need to do to remedy a situation. I'm a great friend.

Never in my life has anyone abused this like a recent friend. I found this site on the internet and the line;

No matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. That is exactly what has been happening to me. This whole friendship I've been giving and giving and getting nothing back. Not because she was a bad person, but because she just wasn't capable of giving anything back. And even though I do love to help, it's like my advice wasn't being listened to. She wasn't learning anything from my sound advice. And I wasn't getting a friend in return.

It weighed on me. With what I've gone through, what I'm still going through...I don't have the emotional capacity to be anyone's pillar anymore. I've gotta get out.

Off the Grid

2010-04-19T09:41:00.000-07:00

I want so badly to be off the grid. I go online and it's like idiot after idiot posting their stupid Facebook status updates. Complaining about stuff they don't actually care about when it comes down to it, they just type to see themselves in print.

Whatever happened to only speaking if you had something to say? It seems people just make excuses to speak now. They say something without realizing what it is before it's halfway out of their mouths.

One of the people I follow on Twitter told me that he felt like he hit a moment of Zen when he walked away from Facebook for a week. I'm thinking about that seriously. I need to get off the grid and concentrate on working out and getting the new house ready for my Mom to see at the beginning of May. I can't wait for her to come and see the new house and for us to go out and do stuff. With the last time I saw her being the anniversary of my Dad's death, it wasn't exactly an exciting trip for the both of us.

It won't be that hard to go off the grid with Facebook. Let's see how a week goes...

Like Going Home Again

2010-04-05T13:32:00.000-07:00

A couple weekends ago, I went home for the weekend. It was actually half for work, and half for play. Mostly though, it was to be with my Mom close to the anniversary of my Dad's death.

Not that we had time to even think about that, as she was running an expo and we barely sat down with each other for more than an hour the whole weekend. I had to have a whole morning conversation with my aunt that I really didn't want to have, but that's a story for another time.

The first morning I had to myself, and I drove around downtown and thought of all the things I could do as I drove by. I remembered things about my childhood, my adulthood, things that happened just last summer.

The possibility of the day lay before me, and it didn't strike me until I was on the plane ride home, but that was happiness. I felt more accepted there, and I feel like more people know me for who I am, and respect me for it. It was a nice feeling to have for the weekend. Maybe someday I'll find that place again.

But not in this town.

Dodging the Bullet

2010-03-17T20:28:00.000-07:00

I'm about to be shot, and it's all my fault.

I told everyone that if I got to a certain weight, someone needed to shoot me. I thought, "There is no way anyone would let themselves get to that weight if they could help it."

I'm officially two pounds from a bullet to the enormous gut. My great idea of actually hitting my caloric intake everyday was a bad one. In the past few months, I've gained a few pounds instead of lost them. Apparently, I didn't need the amount of calories that everyone said I needed.

So, for fear of being shot, I'm buckling down. And I'm doing it my way.

First off, the gym is too far away and the classes, the only things I go to, are at times that aren't good for me. So I'm going to cancel my gym membership. I'm also willingly letting the house go to seed a little bit. The dust will be there tomorrow, my health might not be.

In order to make a change, I geeked out and bought Shape-Up shoes. I didn't intend to buy them, but I had a coupon so I walked into the store, intent to get a $50.00 pair of sneakers and have something comfortable to work for the weekend.

On a whim, I decided to try on the Shape-Ups, and was shocked to find it actually had a high arch support. My arches are so high that it's almost impossible to find shoes. Somehow, the inserts that I buy never quite work out either. So, usually, my shoes are uncomfortable. I hate shoes.

I know. I might be the only woman on the planet to udder that sentence.

Anyway, the shoes were amazing. And I was mad that they were amazing. Because they look stupid. Stupid and embarrassing, and I'm going to need longer pants to hide the shame.

On the plus side, I have a new Spice Girl name, and will be going on tour in early 2011.

Sky High Expectations

2010-03-09T10:28:00.000-08:00

Along the lines of the last post, Lover Boy and I had a disagreement last night. Every once in awhile I begin to feel like a self-imposed martyr.

I feel as if you get up in the morning, and go to work. It doesn't matter if you are sick (to a point), or you didn't get enough sleep the night before, or if you slept wrong and your arm hurts. You go to work, baring not being able to stop throwing up long enough to get to work.

Even throwing up sometimes means you still go into work. I had a job where I was the only one on shift, the store needed to be opened, and the manager refused to answer his phone. So, I left the bathroom opened, and helped customers in between running to the bathroom and throwing up.

You get home, and you start cleaning up after yourself/others. You make dinner, you eat it, you wash the dishes. You go through the mail and pay the bills and clean the bathroom and take out the garbage and do all those little things you put off.

I usually try to get things done before I do something fun like clear out the DVR. I'm not saying that always happens. I have days when I literally can't do it, and I eat a spoonful of peanut butter while watching "The Real World: DC." until about 8pm, when I climb into bed and read until 10 and then go to sleep.

This would be the perfect way to live, if I was living alone. Maybe, if I was living alone, I would actually slack off more. But, I feel I owe it to Lover Boy to keep the place relatively clean. After all, he works 12 hours a day to my 8 1/2, and I have the afternoon to do my things as apposed to his mornings before he has to go to work.

It's still a new house, though. We've lived there since late December, and we still have boxes. We still have things to hang up. Chandeliers that need to be re-placed, and light bulbs.

I guess these are things that I could do on my own, but the 50's housewife in me thinks the "man of the house" should do these things. He SAYS he'll do these things. Then, they don't get done. It was a joke about one of these things that lead to our fight last night.

I harbor all these emotions about how I have to do everything, and how it's SOOOO unfair. But, the truth is, I built these expectations. Just because I can go home and be a powerhouse about my stuff doesn't mean that he will be about his. It doesn't help that I ask him to do something, and then don't see him. We work opposite shifts, and our only day off together is Sunday.

He will do things in his own time, but I don't want to be a fishwife in the meantime. I don't want to have to nag for things to get done within the week. I'm tired of working so hard.

But I'm the only one pushing me.

Depression is NO excuse

2010-03-04T08:36:00.001-08:00

I read this blog post this morning and it made me so mad. Mad about people with depression.

From a young age until I was a legal adult, I was depressed. I never sought help, so I don't know if it was clinical, or what. But I thought about suicide all the time, and I tried it without success once. But I was one locked door away from a roof and a jump, and I would've done it.

However, even in my depression haze, I knew I had responsibilities. If someone needed my help, I would be there. If I made a date to meet someone, I would show up and being as happy as I could be. I know I failed on that front. I know I was a horrible person to be around, but it was something that I couldn't see until I had lost all my friends.

It was when I was truly all alone that I could look at why I was depressed, and either shit or get off the pot. It was my way, and even though I'm not every going to be the happy-go-lucky type, I'm not the drag I was.

But when I read Sarah's post, it was the constant irresponsibility that infuriated me. It has always infuriated me that even in my deepest depression, I could never fully let go. I couldn't stop myself from not caring about other people. I couldn't not answer their phone calls or keep them hanging on an evening we were supposed to go out. Call that "not depression" if you will, but I don't think that being an asshole and being depressed are mutually exclusive.

Even if I'm in a bad mood and go to work, I still greet security with a "good morning" and a smile, because it's ME that's having a bad day, not them. If I walk past them without a greeting, then I've just ruined a part of their day. I refuse to drag anyone else down with me, if I can help it.

It seems that some people that are depressed (and some that aren't) think nothing of bringing other people down with them. They cancel plans and sleep in, and don't think about anyone but themselves. I say, if you want to detach from the world, do so. But don't let people down in the process. If someone wants to spend time with you, give a yes or no answer. Don't bring them down with you. Give them a chance to be happy, even if you don't want to be.

Dreams aren't always like this

2010-03-02T09:32:00.000-08:00

It's not a sob-fest every night. For example, last night I had a dream I was going to some LA gym, and as I walked up I realized I forgot my lock.

I sat down at a table in front of the gym, which was completely made of glass. I could see the people upstairs running on the track, and swimming in the clear pool.

"Are you not going in" someone at the table next to me asked, and I looked over to see Garry Marshall. I am starstruck, but hold it together and tell him I'm "fixing" to go in. We have a laugh, then I look over and see Steven Speilberg talking to a little girl. He called her "Little Eddie" Barrymore, and was trying to make her feel better about a part she got.

I got up the courage to tell Steven that I was glad that he was not only a good filmmaker, but a humanitarian as well, and I was glad to meet him.

I turned around to talk again to Garry Marshall, who I really wanted to speak with, only to find he had left to go inside the gym. I was sad that I missed the chance to talk to my idol, and wasted my time with Steven Speilberg.

And I watched episodes of Lost last night, I have NO idea where that dream came from!

Polish the Stars

2010-02-26T19:51:00.000-08:00

My parents gave me my love of musicals. Dad and I had been making the "jokes" in Mary Poppins to each other since I could talk.

The Music Man was my favorite musical to watch with my Dad. We would watch it over and over again. It was the the first live show I ever saw. We dressed up and went downtown to the show, but a train was coming and we had to run across the tracks to get to the show on time. I remember staring down the tracks into the bright light.

The show opened with the sound of a train, and a bright light came on the stage. I buried my face into my mother's neck, terrified we were about to be run over for the second time that night.

In later years, I asked my dad what his favorite musical was, fully expecting him to say The Music Man. But he surprised me and said Carousel.

To those who don't know the premise, a man up in heaven (which isn't heaven so much as it's a place you go after you die to polish the stars) gets one more chance to go down and put things right with the way he left his wife and child. As the story goes on, you see that he wasn't a very good guy. He was selfish, a jerk, but he fell in love with this girl and tried to stay on the straight and narrow path for her. It didn't work, and he got himself killed right after learning she was to have his child.

I remember at the end my dad always getting weepy, when even though he hadn't apologized or made anything better, he is sorry and goes back up to polish the stars.

My mom recently expressed a want to see it (since right before he died I thought it would comfort him to see it again and sent a copy) and I told her it needed to wait. That, along with so many other movies, would've broken us at the time.

I still haven't gotten up the courage to watch it, but every so often I think of my dad, looking down on me, and polishing the stars.

All is Quiet on New Year's Day

2010-02-20T21:49:00.000-08:00

I started last year knowing that 2 people were going to die on me. They had issued my Dad the death sentence of 3 months, and my dementia-ridden Grandmother had stopped eating. Both had a DNR order on file.

I was also having horrible chest pains in the middle of the night that wouldn't stop. One lasted for 48 hours. The pain was so bad that, given the choice of dying or calling an ambulance, I would've rather died on the spot.

In reality, I'd been having these pains for years. I had dismissed them as panic attacks, and didn't dare tell anyone about them, for fear it would make me look weak. But, suddenly, in 2009, I couldn't spend a week without being attacked by this unbearable pain. I would spend most nights on the floor in the bathroom, crying for the pain to stop. Sleep would only come after 6 shots of vodka. Nightly.

Finally I went to the doctor, who assumed it was some sort of heart failure. He took blood, urine, EKG, and an, a stress test, chest x-ray, and ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed my gallstones. The doctor said I had more stones than gallbladder at that point. They must have been getting bigger since my first attack, at 16 years old.

But I had to wait. Everyone was on the cusp of death, and all needed to be settled before I could embark upon my first surgery. In fact, I hadn't checked into a hospital since I had pneumonia at 3 months old.

So, as the year wore on, and my awaited deaths occurred, plus one (my dear Nana), I found a doctor and went under the knife. I was terrified, but knew that 2010 could not start with a surgery. Everything needed to be clean and clear by December 31st, 2009.

And it was. With the inheritance that was left to me by my Grandma, we bought a house and watched fireworks outside our bedroom window, then went straight to bed.

My father appeared in my dreams that night. The family was all together and happy, planning a trip out to picnic. We gathered it all and started off to walk to the park, when I noticed that Dad hadn't followed. I turned around to look at him. I know my look said "Are you coming?" and he looked at me and smiled his charming Southern smile and said to me, "Ah, y'all can go on without me."

And I opened my eyes to the brand new year.

Well, That Settles That Then

2010-02-19T08:18:00.000-08:00

Lane Bryant has been stalking me in the form of email ever since the cashier put me on the list. I just didn't want to say no to her, I agreed to anything to get myself out of there. Heck, I even donated to Haiti.

So when I got an email this morning promising me 50% off. Getting something cheaper will tip my ego in five seconds, and I was on the web site.

I found a shirt. I liked the shirt.

I went to choose the size from the drop-down menu, looking for my size.

And it wasn't there. At all. Lane Bryant starts 2 sizes above my size.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.

All About Bloggin'-A Survey

2010-02-18T10:43:00.000-08:00

1. How long have you been blogging? I honestly can't remember. Sometime after 2000.

2. What made you start? , while I was in college, and my friends were doing it. I thought "That seems cool" and I started a blog. Then it got popular. Then people got mean. Then I got a stalker. Then, I switched my blog, but kept my information on there. Stalker found it. Had to go completely anonymous, and still had to switch a few times. I think I've finally shook him...but I do still have someone in Mountain View, California who reads daily and never comments.

3. Who inspired you? Well, initially my college friends. Then people I met through my blog really inspired me.

4. About how many hours a week would you estimate you spend on your blog? This blog? Usually if I think of something, I spew it on here and am purged. I don't really think about it a lot. My other blog I'm trying to market so that people DO read it, and I spend more time over there.

5. What kind of experience or background do you have with writing? I wrote my first novel in

6. Talk about how you come up with blog topics. Where do you get your ideas? Word Vomit. Everything that I feel like getting off my chest or what to talk about ends up on my blog.

7. What or who inspires you and your blog? Is it bad that I don't feel like any one person inspires me or my blog? I think striving to be yourself, but admiring things in others, is how one person should live their life.

8. Where and/or how do you do your brainstorming for your blog? Again, word vomit. Things happen, I talk about them. I wish I could say it was this amazing long process, but it just isn't.

9. Do you have any blogging rules or guidelines you follow? Not really. I'm not sure, do I?

10. Is there anything you will not blog about? I always try to stay away from religion and politics. I believe that is something personal for everyone, and no one has a right to tell ANYONE that what they believe (about something that isn't provable) is the right and true way. The way I see it, we'll find out when we get there. Until then, don't tell anyone they are wrong.

11. Do you have any sort of a publishing schedule in terms of day of week or topic? I try for 3 posts a week. But sometimes, nothing happens, so I just can't blog about it.

12. How many drafts of potential blog posts do you have right now? Technically 2, but usually I don't have any.

13. In what medium do you draft your posts? Since they started the "Save Now" feature on blogger, I do it right here. Firefox keeps my spelling in check, so it works for me.

14. How often do you completely scratch or delete drafts or blog post ideas? I think I've done it maybe once in my whole life.

15. If you had to leave your blog in your will to another blogger, who would you choose? He Loves Me Not Author Sarah. She'd leave her blog to me, and I'd do the same. Although, she'd junk most of them, and she would have every right to!

16. Are there other blogs that you feel are similar to yours in content, style, or voice? I'm sure there are, but it's hard for me to step away and look at my blogs. They are mine, and I stay close to them, so I don't have a lot of...what's the word...objective observance? That's not right at all...but it's close.

17. Has anything surprised you since you started blogging? How crazy a cyber-stalker can be. It's amazing.

18. What are your goals or plans for your blog going forward? Wait, I need goals??? Crap.

19. Do you make any money from your blog? No, but like I said, my other blog I'm trying to market so that I do make money.

20. What blogging system do you use? Blogger, tumblr, twitter (micro-blogging, don't you know), and a few others that lay dormant.

21. How did you come up your blog name? I read it somewhere and thought it was fabulous.

22. How many blogs do you have? What was your peak? I have five, but only post on two on a regular basis.

23. Are you having as much fun as when you started? It's been a roller coaster ride. Not quite sure.

24. Where do you find other blogger like you? Still looking...

25. What’s your one wish when it comes to blogging? That my other one takes off and is a major hit so I can make some money off of it, and that I never have to move this one again.

Subconsciousness

2010-02-10T10:14:00.000-08:00

I had been saddled with the task of burying my father's body. His newly found will stated he wanted to be put in a special coffin and have it sunk to the bottom of the sea. The coffin was made of ship parts and where his head would lay was a submarine window.

The time had come where I had to put the body into the coffin. I didn't want to touch it, and it was horrible. I slid his body off the table into the coffin, and it slipped. I was going to have to actually touch the body to move it all the way into the coffin. I sat there, shaking, not wanting to do it.

And then he moved.

He started laughing, and stood up, and said "surprise!" He told me he had been faking his second death for 5 days, slowing his heart rate so everyone thought he was dead. He told me it was like a really long nap, which he needed since he faked his own death nearly a year ago. He paid someone to give my mom someone else's ashes, and he decided to go off and enjoy the world.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe my dad was not only alive, but he had lied to us...twice! The emotion of everything that had just happened was overwhelming. I screamed at him "You try and fake your own death again and I will PERSONALLY light you on fire myself!"

He approached me to comfort me, and I saw his big stomach, his laughing eyes, his mustache, and I tried to hit him. I wanted to hurt him for hurting me so much, I tried to hit his stomach, and I completely lost energy by the time my fist got to him. I sank to the floor and started sobbing. Big, wracking sobs; the sobs I'd only experienced before when my grandma had a heart attack and I saw her scar and realized what mortality was.

It was the big sobs that broke through and woke up my husband. He shook me awake and I remembered it all. Then it hit me it was back to the beginning; he was dead. Not twice, just once. Next month will be a year since his death.

And I started to softly cry.

Spanxed

2010-02-09T11:02:00.000-08:00

I decided I could no longer go out someplace nice and look as dumpy as I did. I knew I needed Spanx.

The only place I knew that sold them was Lane Bryant. I've never stepped foot inside there before because I would feel more judged than if I walked into a modeling competition. Isn't it strange, that I don't care what those skinny ass bitches think of me, but I hate someone thinking that I'm that skinny bitch? I fear the wrath of the fat girls way more, maybe because I equate weight with intelligence. Because let's face it, most of the beautiful skinny girls are really stupid. In my experience.

So I walk into Lane Bryant with my head down, searching for the Spanx. I saw them in the distance and made a beeline. Suddenly, like a scene out of a horror movie, an overweight employee stepped out behind the wall and greeted me.

My face flushed and I say hi in return, and she asked me what I was looking for. Because I was caught, I said I'd just found what I was looking for, and pointed to the Spanx. She asked me what I needed to use them for, calling me "sweetie." I awkwardly explained that my stomach was sticking out in my dresses, making them look bad. "I carry all my weight in my stomach" I explained.

"Yeah, me too sweetie" was her reply. She looked me up and down and stifled an eye-roll while she said it, and I nearly hung my head in shame. I am overweight, but I know I have nothing on her.

And who knows? Maybe she wasn't judging me. Maybe she felt compassion for ANYONE who walked in the door, knowing they feel uncomfortable in their own skin. Maybe that's why she kept calling me annoying pet names.

On the way to the cash wrap she pointed out they had underwear on sale, and I politely declined, saying I had just gotten a bunch of underwear.

"Victoria's Secret?"

"Um, no...Wal-Mart actually. Gotta...love...Hanes...."

Was the Victoria's Secret thing a slight? Was she just being polite? Who knows! At that point I was buying a modern day corset for an absurd price, and I just wanted to get out of there.

Of course, there is a problem with the computer, so I'm left to look around while it gets fixed. It's then that I see....a lot of those clothes were really cute.

Then my mind split in two. One side was saying I should start shopping there. I could wear their smallest size, and then I wouldn't feel so uncomfortable all the time. And I'd look nice. I'd be able to go out looking nice and have a good time without worrying people looking at me because I'm overweight.

The other half of my mind was telling me; This is the slippery slope. You start wearing these clothes, you make it okay to be this overweight, and then you just start getting fatter instead of skinner. You need to be uncomfortable in social situations because it's the drive you need to lose weight. Sure, it's only about 30 pounds you need to lose, whereas the employee of Lane Bryant needed to lose about 100. I'm not THAT bad.

But I could be.

a 180 or a 360?

2010-02-04T15:56:00.000-08:00

I've found lately that people expect me to be a completely different person. Last year when my dad died, I was sad. I'm still sad. It's not something you just get over. Especially since I lost the rest of my grandparents too, and that was the first time I've even had someone close to me die. In my life.

I'm still sort of processing. But it seems to some people, that I should be...well, "over it" already. People saying I don't seem "happy" to be there. Like they didn't know me before. I was never the type of person to "bounce" into a room, unless I had just drank 5 energy drinks. At Once.

I'm finding this "Life after Death" life somewhat strange. You are constantly assessing how you should be acting, making sure you aren't offending anyone. I've tried avoiding parties and functions with tons of people, because I'm just not sure how to react.

Mostly, I'm still me. I'm not really being different. But for some reason, I guess I should be acting like I just gave the world a Coke. Why do people think this way? I feel like everyone in the world gets to fall apart, but for some reason I'm just not allowed. Everyone gets a day off, except for me.

Original Reality

2010-01-26T18:32:00.000-08:00

So, I discovered recently that The Real World was in D.C. this season. I imagined trips to the Smithsonian and maybe a group job at the Senate.

I know, I should've known better. As of this writing, they haven't gone anywhere except to bars. They have, however, brought up some ever so interesting personal habits.

I think this girl's name is Ashley, but man on man she is a hot mess. She is overly defensive and confrontational, and I get where she's coming from, but she doesn't understand where everyone else is coming from. She is such a contradiction, from going to church to screaming at people and saying she can't trust anyone because her mom told her she never wanted to see her again.

It makes me really think about when I was that angry, and I wonder if everyone thought I was immature and stupid when I thought I was being strong and bold.

All of the girls in the house are kind of a mess, if only because they back up this girl's anger. Don't get me wrong, I do see where this girl's coming from. I emphasize with her immensely. I still come off as a bitch sometimes in order to keep people at a distance. It's a defense mechanism that always works.

But she takes it to this amazing extreme that keeps me coming back week after week. Which, I guess, is why she was cast. I just hope she sees this show and it's a wake up call for her to drop the bitch act for awhile.

Fresh Panic

2010-01-21T08:45:00.000-08:00

We handed in the keys for our apartment of five years on Saturday. We talked with the manager and she said we should expect a refund in the mail soon. Yesterday we got a bill in the mail.

We were expecting to lose the cleaning deposit. We'd been in there for 5 years, and even though we'd kept it as clean as possible, dirt happens. But we also had to put a deposit of $45 on a gate opener, and a $75 pet deposit. We were expecting at the very least, a check for that.

Lover Boy is going in to talk to them today, but last night it was still on my mind. I went to bed and was staring up at the ceiling. It was then I noticed how far away the ceiling actually was. How big our bedroom was. Suddenly a fresh wave of panic swept over me as I realized we were responsible for this whole big house.

No longer could we call the office if our shower-head was leaking. We didn't have a pool key. We had a huge house. What did we get ourselves into?

As suddenly as it came, it vanished. We did the right thing, and I was panicking because I thought we'd have to pay more money to the apartment, and had we stayed in the apartment, we wouldn't be dealing with it at all.

I've never been good with change. Technically, this most recent move was only my second in my lifetime.

But this is the first house where I've been able to pull my car into a garage. The first where I have to remember trash day, and I get to recycle without it being a huge pain in the ass.

I've already gotten so used to leaving my car unlocked in the garage that I actually found my car door wide open this morning. I was terrified I'd be late for work because the battery would be dead, but I was lucky.

I continue to be lucky. But after the last year, I think it's the least fate can do.

Gee, do you think they'll get it?

2010-01-08T09:49:00.000-08:00

When are people going to learn that the direct approach is the best approach?

Yes, I'm bitching about Facebook again.

Now this stupid junior-high style bullshit is going around where females are posting the color of their bra as their facebook status, with no explanation. They are supposedly doing this to race breast cancer awareness, and to eff with the males because they won't know what's going on.

Yeah, the best way to raise awareness about something is to NOT MENTION IT AT ALL!!!!!!!

And what is it even doing? If you get everyone to do it, then what? So they know about breast cancer. Did you think they didn't know about it before? Do you think posting my bra color is going to suddenly made me find a cure, or get involved anymore than I already am? Nope. It's not doing a damn thing.

So knock it off.

Experiencing Life...Live.

2009-12-30T23:37:00.000-08:00

I have to vent: I hate social networking so fucking much. I am SO sick of passive aggressive, plain aggressive, and deliberately vague status updates.

There is nowhere else on earth to be direct and to the point, so stop being vague. Don't say "Is thinking of someone special..." Get up off your ass and find that person, and tell them. The rest of us don't give a shit.

"Please pray for Joe in his time of need." Who is Joe, and why do I need to pray for him? Does God really listen to vague-ass prayers like that? I don't think so.

" :-) " That's not a status update. That doesn't tell me what is going on in your life, or what you are up to.

All I'm asking is just to use status updates for actual status updates, not some bullshit thing that you claim you don't even want to talk about. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, STOP POSTING IT ON THE FUCKING INTERNET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

/end rant.

Tis the Season

2009-12-16T14:46:00.000-08:00

Stolen by someone who in turn stole it from someone else:

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Gift Bags. I can't wrap with a darn, and you get to the presents sooner!

2. Real tree or Artificial? Artificial. I hate the thought of killing a tree every year. Plus, messy clean up.

3. When do you put up the tree? The better half usually puts it near the TV.

4. When do you take the tree down? Depends. Usually I'll let him leave it up a little bit longer, especially this year, since it wasn't up until yesterday.

5. Do you like eggnog? When he makes it, oh yeah. Sooooo good.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? My Princess of Power castle. We went to this fancy-smansy store uptown and picked it out of the window.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? No. We don't really put much religion into our holiday. But who does anymore?

8. Hardest person to buy for? My Mom. She's allergic to EVERYTHING.

9. Easiest person to buy for? My best friend. She never met a fabric/scent/bath product she didn't like.

10. Worst Christmas gift ever received? I honestly can't remember. Couldn't have been that bad, I guess!

11. Mail or e-mail Christmas card? I love getting stuff in the mail. There is something more special about someone taking the time to send something rather than just pressing send.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? Nutcracker.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? This year I started in the time of never because we just made a HUGE purchase and can't afford a thing.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Nope. Unless it was a office gift exchange.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Pumpkin Pie. I know it's more October-ish, but I love it SO much.

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Don't care.

17. Favorite Christmas song? Well, this year it's that Wings song, but just because I know it pisses someone off :-)

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? Don't care.

19. Can you name Santa’s reindeer? I'm sure if I thought about it long enough.

20. Do you have an Angel on top or a star? Star

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? During Hanukkah, 'cause it's usually sooner.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? People. So, pretty much like the rest of the year.

23. Ugliest Christmas Decoration ever invented? Fruitcake. It's a decoration because 9 times out of 10 you can't eat it.

25. Which looks best theme trees or homey trees? Wait, what?

26. Gingerbread or sugar cookies? Gingerbread.

27. Do you like Fruitcake? See 23.

Man Up, and Be Ready to Be Hurt

2009-12-01T14:10:00.000-08:00

Remember getting those survey notes in school as a kid?

Do you want to go out with me? Circle yes or no

When you are a child, the entire world is new and rejection is something you want to avoid at all costs. We believed that it would hurt much less in a note than it would be face to face.

Simply put, children are just that; children.

Adults should be old enough to take rejection face to face. Anyone who goes through a social networking site should be shot down immediately.

I recently got an email on a social networking site with the subject line "confidential" and the body of the email only consisted of a male asking me if he thought my friend would date him.

You know that old saying, "If you have to ask, the answer is no?" That's the kind of answer I wanted to give this guy. Not only was he not man enough to ask her himself, but he wanted a old high-school fallback in case he would get rejected.

Advise to the men, direct from a woman: A girl will never fall for a guy who likes to work with a net like that. Think of all the classic men that women fall in love with throughout the ages; The rebel who takes what he wants, and makes girls swoon...the romantic (think Edward Cullen from the stupid Twilight Series), might look lovingly, but won't be pussy enough to give you a note. Love letter, maybe. The list goes on.

The one guy who will send the note will send off the air of uncertainty, and insecurity. Who wants to go out with the geek who will never get any because he's too busy sending notes instead of impressing the girl?

Ending the bleek year on a high note...

2009-11-17T20:31:00.000-08:00

My dad died in March. The last of my grandparents soon followed. I went under the knife for the first time in my life.

I've always said that I write better when I'm sad. Turns out, I didn't really know what sad was. I'll have to correct myself to say that I write the best when I have something to be melodramatic about.

I've never had anyone die before. Dealing with three deaths nearly all at once was almost too surreal. By the time my Grandma's death occurred, the funeral felt like something out of a soap opera. Meeting people for the first time, the white casket that I couldn't even begin to imagine something was actually inside. They made us actually put dirt on the coffin. I could hardly keep a straight face during the whole ordeal. The only thing that grounded me to the situation was my Mom.

If I feel like I've been through a lot, my poor mother has been through so much worse. She lost her mother and her husband within months of each other. She and Dad ran a business together, and Mom has to deal with the fallout of new owners and coworkers as well.

I wish I still lived there. I wish I could help her clean out the house, and ward off her depression. I'm not saying she should be over it. But she's getting worse, and from here there is nothing I can do.

I don't want to repeat history. I don't want my Mom to be begging me to kill her in a few years. I'm not sure what else I can do to help her. The tough love isn't working. But I'm afraid pandering will only make her more depressed.

Is it too late to take it back?

2009-02-19T15:30:00.000-08:00

I was watching Australia with a friend the other day, and we got to talking about how much times have changed. It doesn't seem that long ago in American history that we got all our news in the newsreels at the movies. The movies where, there was only maybe 2 screens and one movie playing at a time.

Now, you can't have a conversation with someone without them checking their cell phone. People knew about the plane crash on the Hudson before news people could pick it up because of Twitter. People saw it on their cell phones long before the TV could pick it up.

Now we know what our high school sweetheart is doing on a daily basis thanks to MySpace and Facebook, and everyone gets nervous and anxious if they leave their cell phone at home. Society is now so dependent on getting everything immediately. And we do! Who is that actor guesting starring on our favorite show? IMDb will take care of that, you'll never have to strain yourself again.

My question is, which is better?

There is something nice about not knowing how someone's day was before you got home, so you have something to discuss over dinner. Hell, having dinner together!

Not constantly feeling as if you were missing out on something. Being able to meet somewhere that you set up weeks earlier, knowing they'll show up and not flake out last minute, and enjoy just each others company.

There is something alluring about life being so simple and pleasant.

On the other hand, I'm a tech girl. I love making my video blogs and updating my twitter account...and writing my blog, knowing I'm reaching out to a world that a decade ago wouldn't even know I existed.

It's two different worlds...I'm not sure which I'd prefer.

Home Sick

2009-01-28T17:28:00.000-08:00

So, it's been awhile. I still don't really have a whole lot to say. I've been home sick today, and it's been boring.

I went back home earlier this month and helped my dad put one foot in the grave.

I don't have a lot more to say. I'm not abandoning this blog, just stepping away from life right now.

Hungry

2008-10-14T22:29:00.000-07:00

My whole life, I was a flirt. I teased, I tormented. It was all in fun. I made sure I never offended and it was always wanted. It was what fed me, what made me feel good about myself, even if it was all faked.

Then I found him. He was all I needed. I stopped flirting, because I didn’t want him to feel as if he wasn’t enough, because he was. It was like the old adage; Out of sight, out of mind. I never quite thought about it again.

Occasionally there would be that spark, and I couldn’t help but tease someone out of affection for them. Not love or lust, mind you, just fun. I swear it creates endorphins; flirting was my workout. I was out of shape.

Recently I hit the flirting bottle hardcore, and when it was brought to my attention, it made me feel like shit. It felt like I had cheated, I felt like shit. I didn’t do anything that be construed as cheating, but I still felt terrible inside.

I was near tears driving home thinking about it, and then a song came on the radio (Human by The Killers). It’s rare that a song hits me at the right time and says the right thing. The main lyric is “Are we human/or are we dancer?” And it’s a good question. I’m only human, and it doesn’t matter where you get your appetite, just as long as you eat at home.

A Blog about Nothing

2008-08-19T22:35:00.000-07:00

For the past week and a half, my check engine light has been on. It shines up at me like a dysfunctional doomsday clock; I have no idea when this emergency will actually occur. Every once and awhile it will take some sort of coffee break and turn off for a few hours or even days. But it always comes back.

I decided to get an oil change today in case that might be the problem, since I'd checked and the oil was pretty dirty. Inevitably that means meandering around Walmart like Novalee Nation in Where the Heart Is. It's not happy.

So I decided to hoof it in the nasty 117 degree heat across the parking lot to the comic book store to pick up the new Buffy, Angel, and Spike comics (shut. it.) and back so that I had something to keep me busy for an hour.

I got back and my car hadn't moved, so I settled into the waiting room where I was joined in minutes by two unattended children. Both were maybe 6 or 7 years old, one skinny and one sadly humongous. Skinny immediately went over to the TV and turned it up and started flipping channels. Soon he realized that the only channel he was going to get was PBS, so he left it and went to a chair next to his sibling and started in on the ice cream sandwich he had been given in lieu of parenting.

You know what comes next; one kid with an ice cream sandwich, and another with a Klondike bar. It was only a matter of time before the entire floor was covered in chocolate. Still no parent in sight. I got a phone call so I took it away from the little brats. When I was done I came back in to finish my comics (I said shut. it.) only to find the floor covered in smeared chocolate (nothing like walking in it after you've dropped everything.) and....wait for it....

covered in ants.

Now I can't even sit down and read. I have to go outside, stand, and read.

Thankfully my car was done a few minutes later, and I opened my car door to find they had set my parking brake.

Had this been my old car, no big, it doesn't even work. But this was my new, hard, obnoxious car. The doors close on you when you aren't looking, I have the bruises to prove it. I sighed and went to work on trying to get the parking brake off.

15 minutes later I was throwing things and yelling. I got out of the car to head inside to ask someone to help me when I saw this huge man, the size of a lightweight sumo wrestler, crossing the parking lot. I begged him to help me, and he obliged.

I've always relied on the kindness of strangers.

An Artist Who Doesn't Understand Art.

2008-08-12T14:09:00.001-07:00

I have a friend who started video blogging awhile back. It looked like it would be a lot of fun to do, so I got software and I've been messing around with it. It is, in fact, fun. I really enjoy cutting scenes together and wish I had more time for it.

So, my friend (who is driving me crazy for other reasons too, this is just the cherry) just posted this:

I'm still up in the air about whether or not to continue doing my video blog on a regular basis. Editing took up a lot of time, and recently we just haven't been compiling much footage for it. Viewership is pretty low, too. I think the last few blogs had about 20 views? Is there something you all want to see on an upcoming installment?

Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? The only reason that he started video blogging was because he assumed people were interested? I'll be the first one to admit that the only people who understand or enjoy my video blog are my inner circle of friends. To anyone else, it's gibberish. It's full of inside jokes that NO ONE is going to get, or even understand. I don't care. It's fun. I like doing it and putting it up on the web so that those few people will watch it and laugh. I'm not setting out to make "The Real World" or "The Hills," I'm just stretching what I know and improving on it. Maybe someday I'll go to film school or just give it up, but It's not going to be based on how many people watch it on YouTube.

Why do people do things solely based on what other people think? What a freaking tool. He even ends his blog with this:

So... umm.. I guess that's all I have to say right now. Thanks for reading! Comment and stuff.

Please. Don't.

Karma at the DMV

2008-08-03T22:05:00.000-07:00

Lover Boy and I went down to the DMV to re-register my car at one of those charming new kiosks, and then got back into the car. As I was about to pull out, the man parked next to us on the driver's side got back into his car as well.

Although he did it by swinging open his door and missing my car by centimeters, then started loading stuff in his car so that I couldn't pull out.

We waited, and I commented "Nice, guy. What a jerk." Before I even got to finish that sentence, he got into the car, banging his head on the top of the door opening. He turned red and quickly got back into his car.

I eyed the heavens and loudly stated "Thank you Karma, for being so prompt!"

Only Noon?

2008-06-18T12:23:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's only noon. Today has been the longest day in remembrance. I swear I wouldn't write a blog unless it was important or a funny story ever again, but here I am. Writing about nothing.

Out of sheer boredom yesterday I started watching "Singing in the Rain." I actually went home and finished watching it (I love Netflix's "Watch Now" option), and suddenly had this urge to listen to all the classic Broadway/musical songs that weren't exactly super popular, but important to musical culture all the same. Songs like "Anything Goes," and tons of Rodgers and Hammerstein musicals.

I'm in a bit of a funk right now. Not a bad funk, but a funk just the same. Things are getting to me only because they have been wearing down on me like water smooths a stone. I wish my word could be trusted, not because I'm a liar, but because other people are.

Mostly, I'm in a funk because I'm bored, not really depressed. That, in turn, makes me a little depressed. I got to get out of it and move on with life.

Sometimes They Twitter Like Birds...

2008-05-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

Obviously nothing has happened to me worth writing about. I've been getting into the mini-blogging that is Twitter, that bas been nice. I could recount the immaturity of friends that I've had to deal with in the last month, but in all honesty it's to stupid to repeat. And it's all been friends of friends anyway. I'm not cool enough to have my own drama.

Mostly it just made me think about how selfish everyone is lately. A friend of mine blogged this, and It moved me so much that I had to steal it for my own devices:

"The Way We Live Now"

[Scott McLellan, in his recently published book] wrote that President Bush “convinces himself to believe what suits his needs at the moment,” and has engaged in “self-deception” to justify his political ends ...

Bruce Springsteen once said "President Nixon legitimized 'the scam'" and gave people the green light to engage in less-than-ethical behavior throughout the rest of the 70s. The ends justifies the means. Never complain, never explain. And for quite a few years after that, ethics went out the door, and the country was never quite the same.

The same thing happened with Bush. Take a look around you.

Do the majority of people you deal with, aside from your closest circle of friends who hopefully you picked wisely, convince themselves to believe what suits their needs at the moment? Do people you work with lie with ease, and believe what are obviously lies to justify their own ends?

I've seen it get worse and worse to the point where an entire generation has entered the work force thinking this is the way life is, that you have to get ahead by believing you are better than anyone else around you and that's more important that hard work, loyalty and dedication.

Bush legitimized self-deception, proved that it works and that there is much to be gained by throwing people under the bus. It's not "What can you do for me?" It's "What can you do for me ... today?"

I hope Obama's impending election will change this, and that the laws of karma turn full circle. That's the change I want to see."

I don't necessarily agree with the political aspect, but more about how people are lately. It's sad that this has happened. I wish something could be done about it, but I don't see it happening in the near future.

Not to Beat a Dead Horse...

2008-05-06T10:23:00.000-07:00

But I saw another article that threw my whole way of looking at food into orbit. Basically, it said that sit down restaurants have more calorie content in their food then fast food resturants. The kicker? The TGI Fridays Potato Skins contain 2,270 calories.

Here I thought that giving up all fast food was good for me. Turns out I've been doing a lot of things wrong lately.

No wonder I'm the fattest anorexic on the planet!

A Tiny Bit of Vidication

2008-04-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

This Article vindicates me just a little bit from my earlier post. I hope that every woman reads that entire article. We all have a completely fucked up way of looking at food.

I wish I could go back to the time when I was young and I ate when I was hungry. A desert was something that was a treat when it came around, but it wasn't something that consumed our thoughts.

I wish I could think about food as keeping myself alive, not my reason for life.

Snap Judgements

2008-04-21T17:34:00.000-07:00

My friend Melrose and I pulled up alongside an expensive silver bit of a car. I glanced over at the man driving it, and saw the slicked back hair and the matte black-rimmed glasses to match.

"So, this guy next to us? he's obsessed with Superman. He has the comics at home, the t-shirt that he wears under a suit at Halloween, and the cape, which he keeps in the back of his closet in a wooden box, so no one knows."

Melrose laughed and decided to play along too. "What's the girlfriend in the passengers seat look like?"

We let our car roll forward and not-so discreetly peeked into their car.

"Oh my god, his girlfriend is Asian! That means he's into the Smallville TV show, and she looks just like Lana Lang!" Momo said!

"He is so protective of her!" I said as he reached for her hand in her lap, "I bet you ANYTHING he has a huge hero complex! But he also feels like he can be a little bit dangerous...you know, like if some red Kryptonite was around"

The light turned, and SuperGuy sped off and cut in front of me.

His license plate read "GENTLMN"

Momo and I couldn't stop laughing for the next two lights.

Sexual Responsiblity

2008-04-13T14:27:00.000-07:00

No, a different kind. I just have to get up on my soapbox for a minute about people having sex.

Why do insist upon inviting me over right before, so I have to catch you either in the act, or you refuse to open the door and answer your phone when I get there. I don't fucking understand you.

You are in a relationship, and if you wanted to have sex, why did you invite me over? I realize that on a certain level it's sexy for you to have sex and just get away with being caught, but don't take to long and then leave me on your front stoop, banging on your door.

It's rude. I don't care if you've been in a relationship for years or weeks. It's awkward for me, having to admit that you are having sex when I'd rather just pretend that you didn't. The mental picture of anyone I know personally getting it on is something I'd rather not picture. Then I have to imagine you naked, and I'd rather not.

Long story short, If I'm on my way over, keep it in your pants. It's really starting to piss me off.

Is it April 15th Yet?

2008-04-08T21:13:00.000-07:00

Did you know the IRS hold music is The Nutcracker? I just found out now. I was doing pliés and arabesques all over my living room while worrying that the IRS was going to track me down and arrest me.

After a rousing romp through the apartment, I got the nicest lady at the IRS. No, seriously. I know it sounds sarcastic, but she helped me through some trauma. I had only gotten the $7.95 charge on my credit card, but not the amount that I owed. She told me what to do, and I felt so much better.

"So, that means you aren't going to send thugs to my door to beat me up tomorrow?" I asked her jokingly.

"Oh Honey," she replied, "We have bigger fish to fry. Have a nice day!"

Note to Self: Netflix the Nutcracker.

HeartSick

2008-03-29T00:42:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling very heartsick right now. There are a lot of emotions flowing through my veins right now. Anger, sadness, betrayal. I'm merely a vessel for these emotions. Nothing is wrong in my life, but I carry these emotions in hopes that a friend won't have to.

I know she's in pain. And what she feels I feel. I know it won't make a difference, she'll still feel horrible, like the world is ending.

The world won't end. I'll be your crutch until you can stand strong.

I cry for you, in hopes that it will lighten your load. I know it doesn't help, but it feels like all I can do.

I cry for you, so you don't have to.

The emotional is overwhelming. Let me carry part of your load.

A Catharic Bit of Fiction

2008-03-28T23:25:00.000-07:00

I’m torn up about our breakup last night. Not the fact that we broke up, of course, but just about your complete ass-hattery. Not only are you not who I thought you were, but I had no idea that one human could hold so many contradictions. Your asinine use of circular logic had me all but rolling on the floor. The way you can twist existence so that the earth revolves around you at twice it’s normal speed is amazing.

In the last few weeks of our relationship I’ve seen you go from normal to fear of commitment, and it’s been an exciting ride. From the ‘wow, sleeping with a hot blonde everyday is fun’ to ‘wait, you want me to support you in a decision?’

The greatest part was the way you projected all your mental issues on me. You had a problem with food, so I had to stock my own apartment with low-fat soymilk because it was ‘better for ME.’ Not you, but me. Suddenly my health was a huge concern, because I asked you once to stop me before I over-ate. And then I got the wrong brand of soy milk, and it was like the sky had fallen.

Near the end your behavior became what psychologists call the “Anxious/Ambivalent Attachment style.” I know you like to spout all your existentialist crap, but you rarely know what any of it means, so I’ll explain. An Anxious/Ambivalent attachment style is when someone has an expectation about social relationships characterized by a concern that others will not return affection. Now, as much as you’d like to say the same thing about me, I’ve got another one for you; the Arousal: Cost-reward model. What, you say? Well, that’s a theory that helping or not helping is a function of emotional arousal and analysis of the cost and rewards of helping.

Long story short, you’ve got a LOT of issues kid. And I’m giving you a complex by using all these big words, so I’ll let you take a break. Plus, I only got through the “A”s in my psych book, and we’d just be here all day.

But I’ll end on a note that is sort of close to the end of the alphabet:

You are a Complete Tool.

I Don't Know You, So You're Fat

2008-03-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

I'm about 30 pounds overweight. I've been 30 pounds overweight for about 3 years now. Of course I'm not happy about it, and I've tried every stupid fad diet on the planet. I read articles like this and this and this. And I always did what everyone else does; skim through it and assume I ate too much. I consumed WAY to many calories.

I tried to do The Master Cleanse, in which you don't eat and just drink a gross beverage that requires an ice water chaster to get down. That resulted in me throwing up my stomach acid on day 3. It's supposed to last 10 days. I tried SlimQuick, which did nothing for me after the first day, and that was just from the extreme amount of caffeine that resides in those pills.

One day a few months ago, I was on StumbleUpon, and I came upon a cool calorie counter. You could put in McDonald's, Cheesecake Factory, Lean Cuisine, everything. I thought "Finally, I can put everything I eat into this thing, and I can see where I need to cut calories."

I entered everything in, and when I wasn't sure about something (like if it was cooked in butter) I just assumed the most calories.

The final total of calories I consumed per day was 400-600 calories. The average caloric intake for a woman is 2,000 calories.

That's right. I was technically anorexic. I had all the signs, and I never put two and two together. Because all those articles were telling me that I was fat because I ate to much. I never thought that the only reason I couldn't shake this weight was because my body was in starvation mode.

Plus, I had/have all the other signs; Insomnia, Pale Complexion, Hair Falling Out, Becoming Dizzy when Standing To Fast. The only time I ever ate was when I was with people. Because I was a social eater, my friends chalked it up to the fact that I was eating to much as well. Even I didn't realize that the only time I was eating was when I was with them.

Even this very minute, I should eat something, but there is no one around. I feel stupid eating by myself.

Accidental Anorexia....who would've thought?

And it's funny...I would have known this sooner if I had bothered to finish any of those articles. Then I'd know that Diet Soda isn't making me fat, it's just a crappy excuse that the author uses so that we feel like crap about ourselves.

Maybe some of us aren't losing weight because we are eating to much. Maybe we are starving, because we only read half of the articles. I only drink one soda every few days, but reading the first few lines of that article had me swearing off diet soda forever.

I don't know what it is that makes us so susceptible to what people say, but it needs to stop.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat something. After 9pm. And I'll still be thinner in the morning.

A Teambuilding Exercise

2008-03-13T23:18:00.000-07:00

There is a certain Pavlovian response that happens when you hear the phrase "Please get into groups of 4." You can almost hear the desk scrapping across the floor as your eyes dart around, searching for someone who won't reject you.

Sometimes those groups are heaven. Everyone has their part to play, and everyone plays it perfectly. Donald Trump would never criticizes this team, let alone fire anyone. It's a power group.

Then there is the other team. You are the only one who seems to even know there is an assignment, everyone doesn't seem to care. You are the only one who does any work, and it's exasperating. Sometimes you grin and bare it and present to the class like you all had a part in it, and sometimes you go to the teacher and get another group.

Isn't it strange, isn't it, the parallels to a being in a relationship?

I find it to hard to not be in a Power Group. Lover Boy and I have always worked as a team, from the beginning. I tell him where I stand, and he tells me where he stands, and then we stand together. If one of us is weak, the other comes in strong so we are still a solid unit. If I'm having a problem, something I shy away from, he comes in and takes care of it.

If he is coming up with a problem, I help him solve it while supporting his decision, no matter where it'll be.

My friends are the same way. If my friend forgot someone's name at a party, I go over and introduce myself to them, so I can get their name to bring back to my friend. If there is a problem we solve it together. Great relationships always work like you are on a power team.

Hell, even Ethel helped Lucy with her laundry.

That's why it pains me when I know some relationships out there that are so bad, you have to go back to the teacher to complain.

I can quit anytime...

2008-02-26T23:07:00.000-08:00

Lover Boy and I are looking to save some money, so we've been discussing what we spend the most money on. Lover Boy thinks our problem is how many trips I like to take.

I can't help it. I love to travel. I love being in a new place, doing new things. Even old things. The grass is always greener and all that.

This January we went home for a week to spend time with family and college friends. This, to me, is necessary. We are also going away for a few days next month for my birthday. This isn't necessary, but I love taking a trip for my birthday. When I'm doing something during my birthday, I can forget that I'm getting older. This has worked for the last 3 years.

In May I'm doing a girl's weekend with my mom, as we are going to my cousin's wedding. This is semi-necessary. I really don't like my cousin, but watching her disaster of a wedding will give us fodder to mock her for years. Or until the divorce.

Lover Boy just got offered a trip through his work to go the opposite coast to visit a place I've always wanted to go. It's only going to be $650.00. If we planned the trip on our own, we'd be getting into the thousands for the cost. We have to go.

It's only February and I've used up all my vacation time already. I have two floating holidays, and three places to be.

I might have a problem.

But, I counted to Lover Boy, we go out to eat far to much. And that, surely, is more costly in the long run then a few trips over the year.

He agreed. Then he asked our waiter for the take-out menu.

Pity Party, Indulge Me

2008-02-16T22:47:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I feel like I'm always the strong one. If someone needs a problem solved, I solve it. If someone needs an ear, I have two.

But when I feel awful about something, when I need to spew my guts out...I find myself alone. Most of the time Lover Boy is at work, and I don't feel like anyone sets aside time to listen or help me.

Not that I don't love all my friends, I do. They are good friends. But sometimes I wish I had a friend who would be there if I needed them, all the time. I feel like I haven't had one of those in awhile.

And I'm just low right now too...I'm sure I have those people, but right now it feels like I'm all alone.

I've decided to give back to the community!

2008-02-14T23:42:00.000-08:00

I'm doing it the only way I know how; through blogging. And I'm totally not talking about "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything." Oh no....although you can still ask me anything you want. I'm talking to you, Rod.

Anyway, I've submitted an entry of this blog to this charity. Read the entry over again, and see if I made the right choice of what to send in.

And please, this is for posterity, so be honest. :-)

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

2008-02-14T10:27:00.000-08:00

I stayed up last night to wait for Lover Boy to come home, so I could wish him a Happy Valentines Day. He wanted to watch yet another episode of good eats, and I fell asleep on him. He woke me around 1:30AM and we went to bed, with a set plan of what to do in the morning.

8:30 AM, there is a knock at the door. The repairman for the apartment complex thought right then would be the perfect time to fix the lock on our porch door. The same lock that hasn't worked since we moved in, over 3 years ago. Since he was there I told him he needed to fix our leaky sink too, and he had to come in and out a million times, and I had to wrangle the cats every time he walked in the door.

Around 9:30 AM he finishes his work and says goodbye. I climb back into bed with Lover Boy, tired beyond tired, and am *thisclose* to finding sleep, when there is yet another knock on the door.

I answer the door at 9:55 AM, only to find the repairman has forgotten his radio. I lock the door behind him, then realize in order to make it to work on time, I have to get ready now. As in, no sex, no cute lunch with Lover Boy, and no going to the post office to pick up my package from my mom.

Happy Freakin' Valentines Day. I swear I feel more single when I'm married.

Mortality Rates are High

2008-01-31T23:06:00.000-08:00

There has only been one time in my life where I've cried so hard that I sobbed uncontrollably. It was in high school, when my Grandma had a heart attack.

At first I kept my cool. She had a quadruple-bypass surgery, and my aunt said she was doing well. I wasn't worried. My Mom went to stay with her for the week, and I was going to take care of her for the weekend.

Mom warned me that Grandma was going to be different. My normally upbeat, nice, polite, well-mannered, lovable Grandma had been changed by the experience. I wasn't worried, my Grandma was strong.

Grandma sighed. A lot. And the long scar shocked me more than I realized. Suddenly it hit me that Grandma was mortal. I could tell that she was depressed; she didn't ever want anyone to baby her or see her weak. It bugged her that anyone had to take care of her. She and I are alike that way.

Fast forward to my wedding, right after I finished college. Right up until the last minute, we didn't know if Grandma was going to make it there. I tried to not care if she came or not, but really I desperately wanted her to be there. She decided to get on the plane, and came she did. I was so happy that she was there. And she was back to my old Grandma again. She laughed, she joked, she walked around as if she never had any pain in her life. She sat on a stranger's lap and joked at the hotel, she was the best.

Last year I decided to go to my favorite city for my birthday, with friends. Every morning before we headed into the city, we visited with my Grandma for an hour or so. She was sad again, and we hadn't seen each other in a long time. But she was still gregarious to my friends, and forever asking if I was hungry and trying to give me things. I didn't get away without two coats of hers.

She told me that my aunt was trying to get her to move into an assisted living facility, but she didn't want to leave her home. I told her I'd never give up the house; I felt like I'd grown up there, and she seemed to be doing fine. I hugged and kissed her goodbye, and went back home and lived my life.

A few months later my aunt wore her down and got her to move into an apartment. After just a few weeks there, she started showing up in other people's rooms, losing her hearing aids, and eventually beating up on my aunt's boyfriend. I loved her for that last one.

She has dementia, and is living in a home now. A few weeks ago we went to see her, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever had to do. She was unresponsive and obviously not my Grandma anymore. She had lost so much weight that I probably wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd.

A year ago she begged my Mom to kill her, she was so unhappy with living. She never wanted to lose her mind before she could just end it all. She would've hated that so many people saw her in a home like this. My mom and sister tried to engage her in conversation, telling her that her hair looked nice, and asking her what she ate for breakfast. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to take a walk. She just wanted to stare straight ahead.

A part of me understands. When I went through depression, that's all I wanted to do. Stare straight ahead and not interact, because I felt like my depression showed I wasn't strong, that I couldn't take care of myself.

She never wanted me to see her like that. She never wanted anyone to see her like that. It broke my heart that my strong, amazing Grandmother wasn't getting what she wanted.

It struck me then that I had the determination of my father in my DNA, along with her desire to not let anyone see her weak. I wasn't going to let it end the way my Grandmother didn't want it to.

When my time comes, I'm going be in control of when I leave this existence. And I won't ask help from anyone.

Does Attempted Suicide Count? (I kid!)

2008-01-24T23:03:00.000-08:00

"What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?" ~Jamie

Depends on what you mean by dangerous. If you mean physically, I'm not very adventurous. I suppose that it could be when I rock-climbed...but that actually felt pretty safe. I think that's because it was indoors. Ooh, I went skydiving; also indoors. I'm just not an outdoor girl.

The only thing I've done that I've felt dangerous doing was when I walked out of a job. It was a temp job, and I told the temp agency how bad it was there, and if my immediate supervisor there was escorted off the job that day that I'd be right behind her. I did it, my heart pounding in my chest the whole time. I even took the stairs because I was afraid I'd run into the security guards coming back up. I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but this company had been doing the wrong thing to it's employees since the day I got there. Someone needed to show them. Of course, the Temp Agency 'fired' me, even though I let them know what was going down before hand. I just met my immediate supervisor across the street for margaritas. We were joined by another employee soon after.

I know, I don't take chances that much. I always seem to play by the rules, even though I always say what you should do is break all of them and see what happens.

Dear Rod: Why do questions always come in threes?

2008-01-22T22:53:00.000-08:00

1. How much of my hard earned money would it take to get you to run naked through a crowded mall?

Funny, I had a dream about that the other night...Although I wasn't running, I was more cowering and needing badly to pee. More on that later.

Okay, not really. There is no amount of money that could get me to re-live my nightmares.

2. How can I increase my bad-assedness quotient?

There are a few easy steps, such as wearing more black and buying a motorcycle. But in order to really be a bad ass, you have to believe in you. This always works with women experiencing PMS. :-)

3. What makes the women swoon?

When a man shows that he thought about something. Women want desperately to feel like their man pays attention like they pay attention; with immense detail. Women remember what kind of dog food the dog digs the most, because she actually feeds the dog and measures the amount of time in which it is eating.

So just pay attention, and when you get her a "lemon lip gloss" and mention that you had remembered she said she needed some, and you saw it and thought of her, she'll swoon.

At least on the inside. :-)

Procrastiation

2008-01-12T01:00:00.000-08:00

I know I said I'd blog, but I'm going out of town for a week. Please check back then, until then see the post below and ask me anything!

A New Start

2008-01-07T23:15:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Textually Promiscuous! D@H was getting me WAY to much porn in my inbox, and it was getting old. I read the phrase "textually promiscuous" in a book the other day, and it struck me. I loved it so much I highlighted it in my book. It's the only time I've ever done that in a book that wasn't for school.

I thought we could start off with a round of "Ask Two Drink Girl Anything," So here are the guidelines:

You can ask me anything, ranging from advice on how to apply makeup, to why hookers smell the way they do (That's for you Andy!), and I will do my best to answer truthfully or as entertaining as possible.
You can ask me my opinion on anything, such as what I think of the writer's strike, if you should dump your boyfriend, etc.
You CANNOT ask me about politics. Not many people reading this blog even care. In fact I think I could narrow it down to one person who cares. And even though I love her, I just get to worked up about it, and I never have all the information.
You CANNOT ask me about my own personal sex life. As soon as I blog about something like that, then someone in my family always finds my site and that makes dinner with the in-laws really embarrassing. So I just won't do it. Ask me about any position in general, or sex in general, is fine.

Leave me a comment and ask me anything. They will be answered in the order they were asked, starting with Haloscan comments first. This post will stay at the top of the blog until the second week of January, so look below this post for new entries.

Slide

2007-12-08T12:07:00.000-08:00

I noticed the brake lights go off on the car far ahead of me. I couldn't even tell what kind of car it was, it was so far away. But I pressed on my brake and slowed down.

Then I noticed they hadn't just put on their brake, but stopped. On the freeway. Going 65MPH.

I laid down on my brakes and felt my blood pressure rise. My small stuffed bear that sat under my back window flew to under a seat, and my Victoria's Secret Dog slide forward and almost fell off as well. My purse came off the passengers seat and lodged itself under my glove compartment, and my tires started to slide.

My brakes had locked up, and I was skating as if on ice towards the car in front of me. At this point I thought I'd skid to a stop because I was still so far away, but my body was frozen while my car careened forward, smoke spilling from under the tires.

I got closer and closer, and it felt like forever. Eventually I realized I was going to collide with this car. I cringed, prepared, said "Oh No!" and closed my eyes.

BAM!

I opened my eyes and saw the car in front of me pulling forward. I was puzzled; didn't he know I had hit him? Where was he going?

It took me a moment to realize his bumper was rubber, and I had bounced back. I checked my brakes again, this time they worked like nothing had been wrong, and I pulled off to the side of the road.

I was sick with worry. This guy was going to kill me. I'd kill anyone who had rear-ended me. He's going to be so mad. I didn't want to get yelled at for something my death-trap of a car did to me. It was my fault, but it wasn't. I felt like such a victim.

He got out of his car and looked at his bumper, which thankfully looked free from any damage. I couldn't even imagine how hard I had hit him. I'd been slowing down the whole time, but I'd started out around 60MPH.

"I am so sorry!" I said, running over to him. "My brakes, they...I'm so sorry. I can't believe that just happened. Is your car alright?"

"Yeah, actually, it just looks like a scratch. I barely missed the guy in front of me, he stopped dead for no reason at all, it's his fault. Do you want my insurance information? I don't have any damage, but you can have mine if you want."

"Not if don't want mine, my car has all the damage. I'm so sorry!" I couldn't stop apologizing. I was still in shock, I was having a hard time dealing with the fact that my car just betrayed me.

"Are you okay?" The man asked, seeing my obvious spiral into despair.

"No, I'm fine," I lied, then said "I'm so sorry!"

"Okay, well I'm kind of already late for something, so I'm going to go, as long as you are okay."

"No, no, go, I'm sorry to keep you! I'm so sorry I hit you!"

He pulled away, but I stayed awhile, freaking out. I got back into my car and went to the gym, where I was headed in the first place. I ran a mile and a half on the treadmill, then got stuck in traffic on the way home.

Stuck in traffic is where the shock wore off, and the whiplash came in full force. The tears came flowing forth, and I laid my head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

I was driving a death machine. And I have to pay off $12,000 more before I can get rid of it.

Hmmmmm....

2007-12-02T12:09:00.000-08:00

I was in heaven.

My city had finally seen it fit to outfit us with an H & M. That wonderful place where things fit and don't cost that much. Those wonderful Swedish designers keep me clothed. I've already spent $60 there and they haven't even been open for two weeks.

During my third visit I was rounding the corner into the dressing rooms when a woman caught my attention. She was wearing one of those tiny vests and jeans, sort of like this:
Only she was busting out of everything. It was not pretty. She strode past me with an air of insolence, so that make me think that she worked there. Still, I couldn't hide my disgust of her choice of outfit. Not only was it not fitting well, but it looks like she was missing the cute white shirt that should have gone under the vest. Thankfully, she didn't see me.

However, I did see the same look I was wearing on the salesgirl ahead. Obviously vest girl didn't work there if she was looking on with such disdain. I couldn't help but to smile at her.

Her eyes traveled to me and immediately her features changed to embarrassment. I handed her the outfits I wanted to try on and she said "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to stare it at her, it's just that..." I whispered to her; "Well, I didn't want to say anything."

Again, she started to apologized, but I stopped her. "Please, everyone in this room was thinking the same thing you were, don't worry about it."

Yeah, We Work Out

2007-10-11T12:00:00.000-07:00

"You two have exxxxcellent form." The overweight foreign man leered to Mischa and I.

I smiled wanly and we continued our workout in the pool. As per usual, we spent some time in the steam room after the work out. Creepy Fat Man (CFM) Followed us inside and commented again, "You two are in great shape. Amazing form. I'm not just being nice. When someone has good form like that, you have to admire it, to acknowledge it." After being thoroughly creeped out, we decided to haul it over to the shower (because rinsing off is something we've learned we have to do.) before going to sit in the hot tub.

Yeah, he followed us in there. He continued to tell us how great our form was, and then came out with this whopper.

"You two didn't train in the states. You two were trained in Europe."

Except for swim lessons as a kid, and swim team for me, we've had no 'professional training' nor is our form anything but mediocre. Which is what I tell this guy, and then we promptly leave.

Why do the weirdos come after us?

The Short Goodbye

2007-08-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

"Does that have provolone on it?" The gruff cashier asked me.

I had just been daydreaming about where Zeet and I had gone wrong. The second he had opened the door and he hugged me I knew it was over. I knew it was over because he hadn't even showered. Somehow his lack of trying to look presentable for me indicated that it was over. I was busy being sad as I paid for my over priced sandwich, while Zeet already sat down, not even waiting for me.

I was sad, and grieving for the loss of my friendship when the cashier rudely interrupted my thought pattern.

"What?" I said, my credit card hovering above the machine to scan.

"The prosciutto sandwich comes with the provolone, I don't see it. I can't touch your sandwich...Lift up the top for me, let me see."

I was still confused as to why this was becoming such a big deal, but I obliged and lifted the bread on my sandwich. It was sans provolone. I looked at the guy, and the shit hit the fan. He lost it.

"Jerry, are you the one who made this sandwich? You are such a boneheaded idiot, how about adding some cheese to the fucking thing? You are lucky I don't fire your ass right now." He continued to add a string of profanity-laced commands to others before taking my card. It had gone from just paying for my food to a highly awkward situation.

After a minute Jerry returned my sandwich to me, saying he was sorry he forgot my cheese. "I didn't even notice, it's no problem." I smiled at him, sorry that he had such a tyrant for a boss. I've been there to many times not to know his pain.

I picked up my basket of sustenance, and walked over to what was sure to be the most awkward end of a friendship ever.

Creating Drama Part II

2007-08-18T11:58:00.000-07:00

She leaned into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him. His breath tasted strongly of fluoride, and she noticed his toothbrush had fallen into his box of belongings. Seeing something as ordinary as a toothbrush in a box took her a little out of the fog she was in. She pulled away from Logan, but didn't remove her hands from his back.

Logan took this gesture as her needing some air, so he dipped down to shower kisses all over her neck. The smell of his aftershave and shampoo intoxicated her, and she felt herself falling back into the fog. Her desires for him overcame her head, and she moved her hands up the back of his head.

Without looking, Logan kicked the box back into the apartment, then swooped down and picked her up. He brought her inside to the kitchen, never breaking contact with her mouth. Setting her down on the breakfast bar, he reached over and removed her remaining shoe. She noticed there was a stereo on in a faraway room, pumping out a techno-tronic song. It seemed to only heighten her senses as his hand traveled from the arch of her foot to the inside of her thigh. The combination of the frigid air conditioning and his hand on her hip made her shudder.

She could barely form a sentence, but she was going to try.

"Logan, what--"

Logan put his hand over her mouth and leaned towards her.

"Shut up," he whispered in her ear, " You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this with you."

Logan's on again, off again girlfriend flashed briefly in front of her eyes. She wanted to ask him about her, but his hand was still pressed firmly over her mouth.

She puckered her lips and kissed his open palm. He smiled at her, and replaced his palm again with his mouth, making her dizzy with his kisses. His other hand continued it's trek along her thigh, and he leaned forward into her, making her lay down on the marble counter top. He walked his hands under her bottom until he reached the small of her back. Logan hooked his fingers under her string bikini bottoms and slid them off her body.

With a smirk on his face, he slingshot-ed them into the living room.

***

She pulled the blanket up around her chin and nestled her face into Logan's chest. He responded by melding his body into hers while leaning them back into the overstuffed chair in the living room. She didn't remember feeling this much at peace in a long time. She couldn't figure out why this felt so amazing with Logan when it never felt this way with Brayden. It was like she and Logan were cosmically connected. He anticipated what she needed, bringing her over to the chair and putting the blanket around them when he noticed she was cold. Brayden never thought to do anything for her anymore.

Logan had made her feel so sexy, so alive. She thought that this must be what its about; this is why people have affairs. The moment couldn't last forever though, and she kissed Logan goodbye and went searching for her clothes. She found all but one shoe, and couldn't find it. She and Logan looked all around the house for it, though they'd only been in the kitchen and living room.

Logan stopped the search to look at her and say "Next time we'll have to make it into the bedroom."

Suddenly she realized where the shoe was. She opened Logan's front door and looked down at her shoe. It stood in the middle of the expanse of astro-turf, sticking out at an odd angle with the entire heel under the ground. Her heart sank as she saw her single shoe, stuck, and alone.
She sat by the shoe and started to cry.

Creating Drama Part I

2007-08-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

She stood at the door, her fist an inch from the painted wood. Emotions coursed through her body, and she suddenly had an urge to run. Her heart started pumping in her ears, and her vision blurred. She knew if she knocked, it would be the end of her current relationship. She loved Brayden, she didn't want to ruin it with him. But she was drawn to Logan, and she couldn't explain why.

She guiltily thought about those two days he crashed on their couch. That morning she awoke before everyone else and saw his muscular chest rise and fall, sprawled against the leather.

She shook her head out of the daydream and tried to get a hold of herself. She was imagining the looks they'd shared, the sexual tension between them. He was never interested in her, and never would be. He and Brayden were best friends, there was no way he looked at her as anything but an association. She was just going to drop off the stuff he'd left at the house and that would be it. She would be surprised if he even invited her in.

Convinced, she rapped on the door quickly, as if doing so would cause Logan to not hear it, and she could convince herself that she'd tried. After not hearing any movement inside the apartment, she bent down and set the box on the ground. Just as she was bringing herself upright, the door swung open with a gust of air conditioning blowing out.

She was eye-level with his amazing six pack abs, and she inhaled sharply. Panic washed over her again, and she struggled to keep control of her emotions. It would do no good to throw herself at her boyfriend's best friend...she refused to be that girl.

"I was just dropping your stuff off...so, you could have it." She stumbled all over her words, and he watched her with his amazing blue eyes, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He dropped down to pick up the box, and leaned towards her. She didn't move as he approached her, she was paralyzed with fear. He leaned over the balcony and spit out the toothpaste in his mouth, then thanked her.

He looked as if he was going to touch her, and she took a step backward instinctively. All at once the heel of her shoe went into the cheap astro-turf of the front stoop, and she went flying backwards.

Logan dropped the box and caught her by the waist in one fluid movement, and she suddenly found herself on the ground clutching him. She'd nearly went over the edge, and her breath had quickened.

"You are okay." He said simply, firmly. She suddenly realized how close they were, and she started to pull away, her cheeks flush with color. His grip tightened on her, and she looked up into his face for an explanation. Their eyes locked in a stare, and he put his hand on the back of her neck and drew her towards him in a passionate kiss.

There is no P in OOL.

2007-07-14T11:51:00.000-07:00

After swimming laps, Mischa and I always sit in the sauna and then rinse off and warm our muscles in the hot tub. Usually the sauna is reserved for complaining about our flaky friends, and the hot tub conversation is usually comparing injuries.

"Body Pump totally kicked my ass! My triceps hurt so bad, try to stretch yours!"

"Oh, that hurts!"

"See??"

"You know what really hurts on me? My shoulders, trying to stretch them out. Do this!"

"Holy Crap, that hurts!"

"I know, isn't it awesome?"

"Oh Yeah!"

We are just getting the ball rolling on our list of "hurts so good" when the other people in the hot tub start to complain. Loudly.

Not about us, but about another man who has just climbed in the hot tub. A woman complained loudly that he “always does this,” and it's disgusting and rude, and she's going to talk to the gym about it and get them to put up a sign. We have no idea what she's talking about, but her voice is so filled with venom that it shocks our conversation into silence.

Another man joins in and begins to complain about this offending man, but they don't state exactly what he's done, so we are confused, and feeling a little awkward in the middle of all this hostility. Thankfully they die down, and we try to jump start our conversation and forget about it. After all, we need to get in more hot tub time.

The offending man sits across from the angry man. Not more than 30 seconds later, the angry man looks at offending man and says, "Why don't we all just pee in here?"

That stops our conversation cold yet again, and we stare at each other in shock while listening. The angry man continues; "Yeah, come on everyone, let's just start peeing in here...it's the same as you coming out of the sauna and not rinsing off before you get into the tub. We are all just sitting here in your filth, so why don't we all just pee in here?"

Mischa and I looked at each other, not believing where this conversation had turned. The offending man didn't say a word, he just sat there and took it...I think he was actually ignoring him completely.

"Time to go?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, we are out of here!" She replied, and we were out and on our way to the locker room, with plenty of sideways glances back.

Body Pumped

2007-07-10T11:54:00.000-07:00

So, it's been a few months now. The Gym Mafia has me firmly in their grasp.

And I haven't lost one single pound. I'm still as fat as ever...more even. I've gained three pounds. Three.

And the first person who comments that it's muscle is going to get stabbed in their eye; I don't care what it is, it's extra and it's on me. It needs to get off.

Occasionally we'll bite off more than we can chew, like tonight. Tonight was the newest edition of Body Pump, (complete with new crappy music, I don't like it to much.) and then we decided to do Yoga to stretch out our muscles.

Big Mistake.

Body Pump has been transformed into an aerobics style class, instead of a weight lifting class. I wasn't expecting that. It's really, really tiring. We were late today, so I didn't get my usual spot in the back of the T-zone (Center back of the room, so I can still see the instructor, but no one can see me!) so I felt like I needed to try harder. I still didn't really make it. My back hurts so much I just got up to get answer the phone, and I *almost* fell.

And because we are suckers for punishment, we hobbled over to Yoga afterwards. I expected it to be old people Yoga, which is what I needed after Body Pump. My muscles yearned to be stretched.

What we got was Emo Boy who wanted us to "hop" and pull and kill ourselves and call it Yoga. I'm sure it wouldn't have been that bad if we weren't already fatigued from Pump, but we were, and it was. Mischa and I had even forgotten our Propel (no product placement, it's just that I'm addicted to Mandarin Orange Propel. Seriously, it's almost taken Starbucks place in terms of addiction.) so we were dying of thirst.

Next week, we've decided, we are going to do the first 9 days of the Fat Smash Diet. Basically it's just fruits and veggies, but we are hoping it cures us of our "let's share a dessert" every time we go out.

Of course we aren't starting now, now is to soon!

Attracting the Wrong Kind

2007-06-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

Like an episode of Sex and the City, my girlfriends and I were all sitting around the table of a trendy restaurant discussing men.

Melrose noted how she really liked the clean, professional types…but the artistic soul is what draws her in sexually.

Mischa falls hard for the emo-types, but has a hard time attracting them with her all-American good looks.

My physical type was the surfer look, but Lover Boy is far from it, and I love him anyway. He’s my ideal emotional type, which I find is what keeps relationships once the initial attraction wears off.

“I think it’s great that we all have different types, because we’ll never have to be competing for the same guy!” I said, trying to look on the bright side of things.

“Well, we are very different types of girls too, so I think different guys would be attracted to us.” Melrose said.

Mischa and I borrow clothes all the time, and I noticed that all of us prefer pastels and have blonde hair. I thought we were the exact same kind of girl.

I never thought of myself as having a “personal style,” I just threw on whatever fit. Sure, I have a tiny bit of love for the 60’s Mod and slightly wacky hairstyles…but I didn’t think it set me apart from anyone. I don’t think I go overboard with it…although I think Melrose, with her design degree, would beg to differ.

Nevertheless, the past couple of days I’ve noticed some…attention…I’ve been getting. From the wrong set of guys. Not that there is/are anything wrong with these guys…they just are totally not for me. Like the guy behind the counter of Hot Topic who burned me that pile of mix tapes just because I was interested in the song playing at the time (What can I say, I’m a sucker for punk covers of 80’s songs), or the spiky-haired eyeliner wearing guy walking around Urban Outfitters.

Then when I was pumping my gas today, a smile came from the guy using the pump on the other side. His face was nice, and his car was really nice…and he had a medium sized Mohawk.

Why do I attract those guys? Is Mischa’s type really attracted to slightly overweight blonde girls with their hair in goofy pigtails? Really?

Pride Always Goes...

2007-06-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

She was looking good, and feeling good. After rock climbing for the first time the night before, and taking a sculpt class, she felt as if she could take on the world. She was wearing her new Capri’s from Guess (okay, the outlet…but they were still damn cute!), and her high heel shoes, and she strode down the parking garage with power. Feeling her newfound energy, she decided to take the stairs down to the casino level.

She turned the corner from the third floor to the third, and without warning, her heel caught on a loose piece of metal attached to the stair.

Cue the slow motion fall.

Her hand flung out, trying to catch onto anything that would keep her from falling down the entire flight of stairs. The first thing that she made contact with was the banister from the fourth floor.

The motion of her arm snapping her body back made her flash back to playground days, when someone on the Go-Round grabbed you when you were going the opposite direction. Only she was older now, and it hurt.

So did whipping around and slamming face first into the side of the stairs. She had saved herself the huge fall, but man did her shoulder hurt! Being as she was on her way to work, she had to shake it off and go about her day.

Two days later she felt the knot of muscle form right beneath her shoulder blade. The next morning she noticed she could actually see the knot in the mirror.

When telling her mother about this, her mother said “It might be a blood clot! You should go to the doctor.”

“Thanks ma. Now I’m worried.”

You Say It's Your Birthday

2007-06-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

"Gunns!" I smiled and looked into his deep blue eyes. All 6 foot 4 of him engulfed me in a hug, and suddenly all was forgiven. I’d missed his school-boyish charm and charisma, and I was eager to catch up. He’d been seeing a girl for about a year; though they weren’t living together he described them as “comfortable.” I seemed to think that spelled trouble, but I kept it to myself.

Gunns had gotten himself a new gig, protecting the entrance of the newest club in town. The last time I’d seen him was at a place he wasn’t too thrilled with. I said goodbye to him, and saw the defeated look in his eyes; he was no longer doing the thing he loved.

That spark was back in his eyes, and he was in his element. He loved to take care of people, and seeing as how it was my “uber-late” birthday party, he invited us in and sat us at the interactive VIP table.

That’s right, I said interactive. Beneath the glass bounced all sorts of psychedelic objects. Gunns gave us all drink tokens, and threw one of them on the center of the table. All the objects went toward it like a vortex and cleared the table. By dragging our fingers around the table, we could make shapes and words out of all kinds of things; little people, hearts, flowers that bloomed with each touch. My favorite was writing in bubbles, then an octopus appeared and swam along the stream of bubbles.

After a few hours, someone wanted bottle service, so we were unceremoniously dumped out onto the dance floor with the unwashed masses. My friends took it in stride, and we stayed out dancing for awhile.

Suddenly I found all my friends and 4 or 5 guys staring at me. “What?” I yelled above the music. MoMo’s voice faded in and out of the music, but I gathered that she had just told them that this was my bachelorette party. Before I had a chance to deny the claim, the guys were surrounding me, and one went so far as to start grinding with me. “We are doing a bachelor party too!” The guy screamed in my ear, then motioned to the nerdliest one of the group. I finally broke free of his grip and said “Are you making sure he’s having a good time?”

“Oh yeah, I’m the best man baby!” He moved closer to me again. I put up my hand and said “then you have a mission; get off me and make sure he has a good time…not you…but him.” And I tried to walk away, but within a few steps the groom stopped me.

“You too, huh?” He motioned to me, then said “It’s my funeral too.”

I looked up at him, astounded. Anyone who would make that statement clearly wasn’t ready to be married. It seemed like an extremely unfunny thing to say. It made me a little sad, and I decided to take the bathroom escape.

We danced for a little longer, took many silly pictures, and ended the evening on a high note. I gave Gunns a hug and a kiss goodbye, and he smiled and said to me "Hey, we'll always have Fiji."

I smiled, socked him in the arm, and sashayed away.

Green Eyed Monster of Asses

2007-04-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

"I'm cutting this a little close!" I thought as I rounded the corner to get up the stairs. A group of people were going straight and were a little ahead of me. I sped up to make the cutoff a little less mean of me and made it. I was up one step when I felt the hand collide with my my butt.
Now, before you get bent out of shape, I could tell by how the hand didn't grab me that it was an accident. In fact, the guy had said "Oh my god, I'm so sorry" before I could even turn around. I had to giggle a little...after all, it's not often that I get accidentally goosed. "Don't worry about it," I said and smiled at him, redding slightly. I was up on the third step by this point.

As I started to turn back around I saw his girlfriend push him from behind. Hard. He actually almost fell. I must have a twisted sense of humor, because I found this funnier than the butt "brush."

Why is it that girls get jealous over the tiniest thing? I'll be the first to admit that if someone is chatting up my significant other, and she isn't observing the three feet away rule, my hackles go up. I shake my finger up in the air and bob my head and say "oh no you didn't!" (Not really, 'cause I'd get beat down...not to mention made fun of...but I do it in my head!)

It's not a matter of trusting him, because I know he'd never cheat on me. But it's like when someone tells you to put on your seat belt. When you say that you drive safely, they say "It's not you I'm worried about, it's everyone else on the road!"

Girls' are sly and before you know it you are kissing them, and even you are surprised that it has happened. Some guys get thrown against a wall and kissed before they have time to think about saying "no." (I won't reveal your identity, but you know who you are! Three times...for shame! You'd think you'd keep to the middle of the room!)

Sometimes I feel like I'm an animal and someone has just crossed over into my territory and is going about sniffing in my trees like they are going to pee on them. It's like the Discovery Channel as I run over to Lover Boy and ask him to introduce me to the bit-uh, young lady to whom he is speaking. Yes, he IS my mine. NO, you may not pee on him. Who let you off your leash anyway???

It's in his DNA

2007-04-17T11:25:00.000-07:00

Lover Boy participated in an AIDs walk last weekend. He got home from work around midnight the night before, and got caught up in getting ready. Before he knew it, it was 2 in the morning. It was then he decided that he'd just stay up all night, since he had to leave around 6am.

It was around 3pm that he was so tired he couldn't handle it, and he came to bed. He left late, around 7, and arrived at registration around 8. It was then he found out that registration lasted 2 hours, then the walk started. He was less than enthralled.

Because this was an AIDs walk, there were a certain amount of...religious zealots. Thankfully they were pretty low key, as far as zealots go. They just handed out fliers to their church, and kept away from the whole "homosexuality is a sin" thing.

Everything stayed pretty peaceful until Crabby Lover Boy got approached by a little old church lady. She held out the card to him and simply stated "Jesus Saves."

Before he could even stop himself, he said "Of course he does, he's Jewish!"

He then took a speed walk stance and took off for the finish line.

Mommy and Daddy are Fighting Again

2007-04-12T11:26:00.000-07:00

"Are you here for the belly dancing class?" A woman asked us outside of the doors for the class. We nodded in agreement and she said "Well, they are already late, so go inside now." She gestured to the spinning class stretching out inside. She all but pushed us inside and we stood awkwardly inside the doorway. Mischa and I stood by helpless as BDI (Belly Dancing Instructor) and SI (Spin Instructor) squared off.

"You are supposed to stop 5 minutes before, you are late!" BDI bellowed to the SI with her indistinguishable accent. Her voice reverberated against the walls, and the Spin class froze mid-stretch.

"It's 5 till on this clock inside the room," SI pointed out, "We are just putting our things away now."

"We go by the clock outside, and it says you are 5 minutes late! You need to pay closer attention!" BDI chastised SI with a major finger wagging. It seemed to end in a stalemate until one of the Spin students approached BDI and told her that it was rude and out of line to talk to SI that way. BDI freaked out on her, and started complaining about everything else, from how she does this all the time to how she has to clean up after her class.

"I'm never going in a class before yours again" SI said, outraged. She stormed out of the room, leaving a mat behind. "You see, I have to clean up after you all the time!" BDI spat out. SI shouted "clean it up, bitch!" and slammed the door behind her.

Then we began our nice, calm, easygoing Belly Dancing Class.

Yeah. Awkward.

Feel the Burn Forever

2007-04-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

"I need to sign up for the gym, and I need to make the body sculpting class in a half hour. Can you do that?"

"Have you toured our gym already?"

"Yeah, Yeah, I know where everything is, I don't need a tour. I'm here all the time with my friends."

"Okay, well, then I just need you to fill out this paperwork. I'll be right back, I'm just going to make a copy of your driver's license."

He leaves me alone in the tiny office to read. I have to be at that class, my friends are meeting me there. Then I see The Clause. I'm locked into paying $20 a month to this gym for two years. What is this, a cell phone agreement? What a damn sneaky way to get your money! Then he showed me the paperwork which stated how much that turns into by the end of the year...over $500 dollars!

So I sign my name to the paper with an angry florish, as if someone in the paperwork department will see my anger and change their policy. Afterwards I ask what they do if someone has to move? Seeing as how back home, this very minute, my father is laying in a hospital bed and no one knows what's wrong with him. I might have to move back to take care of my family.

He said that wouldn't be a problem, I'd just have to bring proof of my new address to their office, or if I got hurt a hospital bill. Of course, I'd still have to pay them $50 to opt out.

So this was it. I had joined the gym gang. The only other way out of this is death. I damn well better be skinny and hot by the end of these two years. At the very least I'll have lots of blogging material.

Greatest Comic Book Guy Ever

2007-04-07T11:39:00.000-07:00

I pull open the door with a total lack of confidence and step inside. I feel the door close behind me and I take a deep breath, completely out of my element. I look around at all the comic books and shutter slightly.

The ideal situation would be that the three guys talking animatedly at the front counter would see I was a girl and obviously see I needed help. That wasn't what happened. They paused, the guy behind the counter said "Hi, how are you doing?" and went immediately back to saying how awesome Kitty Pride is.

I was stranded in Geekland with no assistance. I was going to have to find my own way to the reason I was there. Why oh why did they have to make season 8 into a comic book? I'd never felt more uncomfortable in my life.

I looked around in a panic, like I was looking for a way out. As luck would have it, it was sitting on a shelf in plain view. I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed it and headed to the counter.

I stood behind the guy at the counter thumbing through comics and began to wait patiently.

"Hey, you knew what you wanted! You walked in with a purpose." He joked to me, then said "Come right over here, Hun." He took the book from me, and I followed him to the end of the counter next to the cash register. The man thumbing through the books was still standing there, so I stood behind him and decided to get lost in my thoughts until he was done.

Guy Behind the Counter (GBC) says "Okay, that's gonna be $3.95 sweetie." There is a long silence, and suddenly I realize that all three guys are looking at me.

A blush slashes across my cheeks. "Oh me? I thought you were talking to him," pointing to the guy thumbing through comics on the counter in front of me.

"You thought I called him sweetie?" GCB asked incredulously. I smiled and retorted "Hey, I ain't judging."

All three guys laughed as I fished out my money. Since I was now funny girl, I inquired as to when the second comic was coming out. He informed me of the holding program that they offered, so I signed up for it. He asked me for a phone number, and I let him know that I would give him Lover Boy's number, as he had more free time to pick it up than I did. He inquired as to his name, so I gave it to him, saying "He got all the cool alliteration...I did not."

GBC applauded my knowledge of the word alliteration, which furthered his geekdom in my book.

I thanked him and walked out, wondering if they had all been picturing me naked the whole time I was in there. Or maybe just me in a sexy X-Men outfit.

Mime Language

2007-03-30T11:17:00.000-07:00

"So this is low key Tuesday at the club." I thought to myself as Mischa and I strolled through the restaurant and upstairs to the smaller room they had opened for dancing that night.

We were there for the promoter of the club's birthday, so we had access to the "exclusive table" of the night. Because it was his birthday, there were a lot of people in that tiny area; it was literally shoulder to shoulder.

Wading through the crowd, we found a mutual friend and watched her drunken antics for a few minutes. Then she looked over Mischa to someone behind her, and yelled "Look behind you, say hi!"

Behind us was a guy that Mischa met for coffee once and he never called again. It was unmemorable, but occasionally they saw each other at these gatherings. Mischa turned around, tapped on his shoulder, and gave him a casual wave.

I watched this encounter, and fully expected him to wave back at her, then go back to his conversation. What actually happened blew my mind. He looked at her, and gave her the most disgusted look I've ever see anyone give someone else (that wasn't in the movies). You would've thought that Mischa had offered to give him a venereal disease, it was that bad. He even waved her off with his hand like she was a dog.

Shocked, I looked from him to Mischa, and she had the same look that I must've had on my face, which was utter shock. We both looked over at "Drunken Mutual Friend" only to see that she was completely trashed and not paying attention. "Did you see that?" Mischa asked her, and see said "What? I didn't see anything."

I looked back at Mischa, who was back looking at me, and then we looked back at him. He was back to his conversation and ignoring the face that any one even existed. I looked back at Mischa, still shocked, and she was looking back at me. Then we both started to laugh at the situation, and the fact that we just got ourselves out of a Three Stooges routine.

A few minutes later, when a drunk girl decided that I should be dancing and threw both her and her dates drinks at my feet, we decided that it was time to head home.

We had only stayed about 20 minutes. Later, in the car, Mischa was trying to describe the look she got from that guy, and suddenly hit on it; "He totally just said 'fuck you' in Mime!"

Adios, Motherf(*&^

2007-03-05T11:18:00.000-08:00

Zeet plopped down on the couch next to me with a giddy look on his face. "Wanna see what my new apartment looks like?"

I matched his enthusiasm and said "Sure! Show me!" He told me what the name of the apartment complex was and we typed it into Google. We took a look at the Virtual Tour, where he pointed out the waterfall in the pool with glee. I had to admit it looked quite pleasant, and I joked that I would be over at his pool more than I would actually see him.

I was excited for him, and we talked about what room he would have, and how much rent was going to be, and about his new roommates. I didn't really worry about him leaving yet, I assumed he was going to move into the new apartment in April like we had discussed when he moved in.

A few nights ago Lover Boy informed me that he planned on moving as early as next week. This was something that I hadn't emotionally prepared myself for. I was infinitely more sad than I thought I would be.

I know that it's for the best. We didn't have enough room for him to move anything in but his computer and his clothes, so I'm sure he was never comfortable with us. He always felt like a guest and not like he was at home. I'm sure LB and Zeet's friendship has been strained by his paying us to stay here. It will be best for him to move into his new apartment.

But I'm really going to miss having an instant friend that I could stay up all night and talk with. LB just isn't a big talker, and I love long, drawn out conversations. I enjoy discussing every aspect of something until I feel I've talked all sides to death. I really don't have anyone else to do that with but Zeet. I'll him profoundly for that. He's mostly LB's friend, and we'll never really have time to hang out alone after he moves out. LB will get to see him at work, but Zeet and I will never go out and see a movie or go out for coffee. I'll likely never see him again unless there is a group party.

Zeet filled a hole that had been empty for a long time. Now I have to prepare myself for that hole to return. He hasn't even left yet, but I can feel the crater already forming.

Breakast of Champions

2007-02-22T00:21:00.000-08:00

If she didn't have enough water, her diet pill made her queasy. Thinking she could make it from her apartment to her brunch date, she got in her car and set off.

Not even a block later she started to feel her stomach churn, and she pulled her car over at the convenience store. She parked and headed towards the entrance. As she walked towards the entrance she spotted a guy coming from the other direction.

He had a great looking body. He had the kind of body that looked like it took no effort, when really you know that he worked at it. The graphic tee and jeans hugged his body. She reached the door first and held it open for him, and he thanked her.

She hi-tailed it to the back of the store and contemplated the options; Arrowhead, Voss, Fuji, Evian.

She decided on Evian...she knew it was naive backwards, but she felt it was the cleanest tasting water. She started to speed walk towards the front, her stomach threating her more with each passing moment.

She accidentally cut off Graphic Tee guy who was coming up one of the middle aisles. She reached the checkout first and paid for her water. She slid her purse and water over so GTG could check out and she could put her change in her wallet.

Three things slammed down on the counter, one by one. She couldn't help but be curious as to what he was buying at 10 am.

2 Rock Stars and a Snickers. Maybe he did just accidentally get that body. She looked from the purchase to the guy.

He looked over at her purchase, then his, and she saw him slightly lower his head in shame.

She couldn't help but smile at him as she slid her water off the counter and strolled out the door.