Don't worry about, don't speak of doubt

So... new template. You like? No? Indifferent? Yeah, I don't know either. Just wanted to change it up for a bit, but I'm sure I'll fiddle with it again soon. I really need to upload some pics along with posts like I used to - because it's looking pretty bland around here.

I've been having these awful dreams. And I know I've been saying everything is hormone related lately, but I think this is too. Or it happens more when I don't have the synthetic hormones in my system. But we don't have to get into all that. These dreams are like watching movies, except they're awful violent movies that you don't want to watch and can't turn away from. Thanks a lot, subconscious mind. I don't know how to explain. It's just disturbing and I hate waking up in a sweaty panic.

I'm waiting for him to get home. Yeah, he's working on a Saturday - that's a bunch of crap but has to be done sometimes. I get anxious to see him especially when I've been by myself all day. I was even going to mix myself a drink to up the lovey-dovey feeling, but I'll wait. The buzz I get from drinking doesn't ever seem to last long, so I don't want to waste it. And it's pretty likely that right now a drink will get me even more horned up. Hornified?

Anyway! I gotsta go for now.

So now what?

Alright. So Christmas has come and gone and of course it wasn't altogether bad. In some respects I'm relieved to have it over, but then again feel a bit sad that it passed in such a blur. We (J and I) both think it may have been more fun with some little chitlins running around, but then again more stressful too. But despite my "family crisis" shit, I was selfishly dealing with my own shit too and for that, I feel bad. Well, I mean I feel bad that I was in one of those moods where I will answer politely enough when spoken to but can't keep up a prolonged conversation, I wanted to smile but it felt unnatural for my face to cooperate, and none of the usual spirit-lifters had the same effect that I needed to be a good hostess. There are usually about 2 days a month where I am at my utmost worst, and these happened to begin right on Christmas. Not good. I also neglected to make getting certain important med refills of the utmost importance before the holidays. Now due to the idiocy not only on my part but on that of the pharmacy and then of the doctor's office, I am on day 2 without these stupid drugs in my system, knowing that day 3 is usually my breaking point for an uncontrolled crying freakout. It's awful timing. But like I said, it's my fault anyway and I'll get it taken care of.
As usual, my sweet fiance pulled off a fantastic meal for his parents, my mom and us. I could go on about how much he means to me, how he keeps me going when times are rough like this, and how I just love him so much that I can feel the tears welling up... but it would probably be a little nauseating for the rest of you. So we'll just say I'm glad that I had him there with me through this. I'll try to give a better recap of the holidays another time. I wanted it to be half-funny, half-complaining, but I'm going to just sound complainy if I do it now. You know how it is.

Holidazed

I don't know, folks. Despite my tendencies to be bah-humbug this time of year, I was secretly on and off feeling just a little festive. Sure, I've been stressed and sure I'm not really prepared, and sure we have continuous rain and gloom instead of snow, but I still was more or less planning on having a decent holiday. I sort of missed Christmas last year due to being terribly sick with a nasty stomach bug that knocked me on my ass for a week. So at least I don't have that to deal with. But as it turns out, my immediate family is in somewhat of a crisis now and none of us are really in the mood to celebrate. It's not that Christmas is being called off, but my brother is in some deep trouble that is really weighing heavily on all of us. I'm sorry I can't even explain. I don't know, it's a mess. My poor parents. But I am glad that despite of all the family issues we may have, we care about each other enough to be affected and concerned.
Sorry to be so depressing, and sorry that I haven't written much, or commented much or emailed much. Hopefully it'll all blow over soon.
I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday out there! Share some hugs and let people know you love them!

Chrishmish shapping

It's a good thing I haven't gone too crazy with online shopping, especially with how bad I am at regular shopping and how much better the products look on the computer screen than in person. I get in the stores and regardless of if I have an idea of what to buy or not, I get in this hazy, confused, irritable state and then end up doing things like looking at every single board book in the big old bookstore's section for kids, and then end up buying the one that my nephew already has. Or buying my significant other the same kind of shaver 2 years in a row AND also forgetting how crappy it was and that it nicked and cut up his face. As it gets closer and closer to Christmas and I get more and more desperate, everything I look at starts looking like what might be a good gift idea, which usually ends up being awful. And then I start thinking about this shit way too hard and want to break down right there in the store, yelling stuff out like "I don't think I even really KNOW my family or what the hell they like! Hey you there, hey lady - do you think my dad would like this sampler of teas? Hey stranger, how much do you have to spend on your coworkers to not look like a shmuck? Excuse me, hi there random person, do you think I'm buying these earrings because I like them or because I truly think my mom will like them? How about a variety pack of kleenex - is that a gift? I know I'd use it if it was for me. I mean, if you think about it - what isn't a gift, right? RIGHT? Someone??? Help?"
Yeah, so shopping tonight should be fun.

Oh Grumbley Grumbles

I'm having one of those bouts of eye-twitching, don't you hate that? It's just an annoying little quiver, feels like it might be sinus-related so I keep squeezing the bridge of my nose. I've also been experimenting with the art of eyebrow penciling lately, so it's like "hey, lookit that girl - what's her expression? Is she concerned? Annoyed? I don't know, but with the looks of that twitchy eye, I'd stay away from her if I were you..."

My petty complaint of the day is that I don't like being at the mercy of my boss for when I am allowed to have lunch. Normally I bring a cup of soup and a room temperature beverage since we don't have a refridgerator here (which yes, also annoys me) and I just eat at my desk and work through lunch. But some days, I don't like being confined! Some days I don't want or have soup! And it's like it's a BIG pain in the ass that I need to run out for 10 minutes to go get something, which I still can bring back and eat at my desk while working. But he likes to be in control. Yesterday he told me to go to lunch and it was only 10:45AM, today it was - you didn't bring your lunch again??? Irritated sigh. Well, I'll be back in an hour and a half, you can go then. I know, it's just a stupid little thing and usually I try to be flexible about it. It's just that I NEVER take advantage of the whole being entitled (by you know, the state regulations) to 2 15 minute breaks and a 30 minute lunch thing, plus the phone hardly ever rings during the usual lunch times, plus we have caller ID and voice mail if anyone DID call, but nevermind, nevermind - I just get a little cranky when I'm hungry!

Assorted Fried Vegetables

So, I finally was given word that it was MY turn to switch over to the beta version of blogger. I'm kind of surprised that they really didn't come up with much in the way of NEW templates (what is there - one?) but at least they've made it somewhat easier to change the colors in the existing ones. We'll see how it works out.

I don't know what our holiday plans are. I don't know what our wedding plans are. I'm not a good planner.

Another weekend came and went. I didn't get Christmas shopping accomplished (including but not limited to completing the package that I need to send to Australia - like that's not gonna be late or anything, shit!) but I did get the fake tree put up and decorated, so it looks a bit more festive around the house. We had a coffee pot die (what, the coffee pot can't withstand a spill of [you guessed it] COFFEE on it's display? Weak!) so we bought another cheap one. It's like our history with toasters - they were practically a disposable commodity in our house until we finally just bought a toaster oven which was well worth the slightly higher cost and eventually we'll break down and spend a little extra on a coffee maker too - just not this time around. J made a delicious roast chicken (which isn't really news as his cooking is always delicious) and I made us some chocolate chip cookies (not festive, but still quite yummy). We had 2 visits from friends, which totals 3 whole people who like us enough to can hang with us. You know what company means: drinks may have got drinked and pots may have been smoken, but all in the spirit of being FESTIVE! Or something. We didn't end up watching any of our Netflix movies (Beerfest, Pirates of the Caribbean 2, X-Men 3) but at least we have some good ones ready when we get around to it. I finished reading My Friend Leonard by James Frey (really good) and started Little Children by Tom Perrotta which so far seems like it'll be good too. We got some Indian food last night - while we were eating I couldn't help envisioning myself today, clutching my stomach and saying "ugh, we had Indian food last night" but actually haven't had too many unpleasant after-effects. I've gotten more adventurous about food over the years and can even handle spicey to a certain point. Everything was SO seasoned though that it was almost like sensory overload. Good stuff though, interesting. So there's the weekend in a messy, unformatted nutshell.

Where's the beef?

Well, that was weird. Apparently everything checked out alright on my car. It wouldn't start, but then after they towed it back to their garage, it did start - he says it happens all the time, might be something got jiggled around during the tow. Isn't that always the answer? You just gotta jiggle it. Alright then.

This morning my boss picked up my sorry ass and brought me to work. We stopped along the way at a funky coffee shop that usually has amusing phrases on their sign, such as "Stop in for a cup of Whoop Ass!" "Coffee keeps you regular" or "We stopped peeing in the tea" so I had already decided I liked the place before I went in. Now maybe I'm just not used to the hip coffees the kids are drinking these days, but my house blend seemed a little odd. At first I thought it was just stronger than I was used to, but it was more of just a weird aftertaste of... is it... beef? Then I thought I know what this tastes like! The aftertaste is just like the "au jus" that you get with a french dip sandwich! That must be their secret! Still thinking I was just being crazy, I drank about 1/2 of it before my stomach clenched up and begged me to stop. On top of that, I have a beef-related soup for lunch, so I can forget about getting that taste out of my mouth.

Seems like this needs a dirty joke here, but I'm at a loss. So you just go on and have yourself a great day.

Whassa matta you?

Me + cars = trouble.

I was just thinking, juust theenking of finally getting some body work done on my car, when lo and behold she decided not to start after I got my morning coffee from the gas station and was going to be on my way to work. I'm sorry I cursed you, car! You trying to tell me you've got worse problems I should pay attention to? I hate that sinking feeling when you're turning the key when you know it's doing no good "please turn over, please this time, please fucking start!" At least I was parked in a decent spot (not at the pump) at the time and had a few minutes to make calls before the battery died on my cell phone (figures). But I hate that. When you like, need help from people, possibly strangers, but the look in their eyes says "please don't ask me, I don't know you, please don't ask me, what are you trying to pull, don't talk to me" but at least the store manager was kind enough to attempt giving me a jump start. It didn't work though, so now I wait to hear the fate of my car and hope it's nothing serious but I'm expecting the worst, because it usually is.

But hey, I got a ride to work from my non-working co-worker, a ride to the shop to drop off the keys, and hey I might even fenagle a ride home (across frickin town) from some kind soul. So I'm thankful that some people out there will still help other people. But most likely, only if they know you.

Not "Share Bear" Enabled

You know, I know work computers are well, for work and all and not actually a personal belonging. But when you work at the same one for so long and have everything set up the way you want it, it kinda feels like "yours." So, silly as it is - dontcha hate it when someone else uses your computer and you come back to find a bunch of stuff changed? What the crap is this? You were using this computer for a couple hours and found it necessary to put your own music program (what - itunes not good enough?) on here and install 2 frickin instant messengers? WTF? Perhaps I'm not as good about sharing as I thought, as my first reaction is to change all that's been tainted back to how I had it. Files buh-leted!

A pu-pu platter of postings

Since I always seem to get into shows when they're past their prime (or already cancelled) the latest show I've been diggin on is Arrested Development. Love it! I think I must favor shows that use the "uncomfortable humor" like The Office, so this is quickly being added to the all-time favorite, can't-miss-an-episode category. So, yay for reruns and DVRs!

I'm planning on making a whole mess o' cookies for the upcoming Thanksgiving festivities. Suppose I will at least attempt a pumpkin pie as well, but I feel safer with cookies as I'm still a newbie in the baking department. My fee-on-say, as I've mentioned before, is quite gifted wit tha kitchen skillz which is hella cool for me (and anyone eating with us). But I want to at least contribute something, even if it's just cleaning up the place and making an offering of cookies. Eh? Does that count? I wish I was craftier and more talented with domestic abilities to impress company, but moreso I just want everyone to have a good time, which hopefully they will.

I haven't mentioned anything about wedding plans in a while because A) I didn't think you'd be that interested and B)I have had almost no ideas other than what I don't like. But! We looked at a reception site we actually like, and for a comparably reasonable price! And if the idea of getting married in a church doesn't work out, there are options available for having the ceremony at the reception site as well. So that's a bit of relief for the moment.

I haven't been writing as much but I've been reading a bit more. Trouble is, I like to check out a whole stack of books from the library and then start more than one of them at the same time, so it really takes me longer to get any one of them finished. So right now, for example I'm almost done with Bleachy Haired Honky Bitch by Hollis Gillespie which I should've been through much faster as it is actually a compilation of short essays. I see that she's a contributor to NPR and perhaps her stuff is better that way, in small doses. Just because as I'm reading these all at once, it seems a bit repetitious. While the stories can be amusing at times, I think there's also some overkill with telling us about what her guy friends said and did and commented and suggested - I don't know if there's a chapter that hasn't mentioned them. I mean, I'm sure I'd love some gay guy friends as much as the next girl but it seems like it makes it less of her voice, ya know? Then I'm also reading Faithless by Joyce Carol Oates, which is another compilation of short stories. I think I'm gonna be about DONE with short stories in the near future, because now these seem more like stories that just got thrown together in a book because she had some drafts lying around but didn't want to bother giving them proper endings. Great character descriptions and suspensefully leading up to something, and then it's just blah blah the end. I mean, JCO is a respectable author with a shitload of books and all - I think I was just intimidated by some of her bigger novels and chose the short stories unwisely. Ah well, I still have 5 or 6 more books lined up to read next if these don't work out!

We actually had a "Pu-Pu Platter" at one of those combined Asian cuisine restaurants this weekend. Always wondered about that term. It's just a combo of somewhat americanized appetizers, but it was good stuff.

One for the therapist's couch

I want to be good. I want to do good things. I want to be considered a good person by others. But no matter what I do, I realize that the person I have the hardest time convincing of this goodness is myself. I feel like the attempts I make are in vain, that I'm not fooling anyone, that anything good I do is still overshadowed by what shitty things I've done. It's just not enough to redeem myself. If I look at it from a bigger perspective, I really haven't done much better or worse than most people. But still. Maybe I've taught myself to respond to negative reinforcement. My "conscience" insists on telling me that any good deed must have an ulterior motive lurking behind it. That I'm not a good girl. That I'm much too selfish and spoiled to really care about anything or anyone else but myself.
But I do, Mom, I do!

Battle of the Secretaries

I hate it that ever since the ONE time, about a year or more ago, that my boss didn't call back her boss in a timely manner, this woman assumes it was due to my negligence and not my boss's own doing. I gave him the message! And the message after that, damnit! She used her best mom voice and scolded me, saying "Well we've been waiting for his call and that's just NOT cool" and was quite personally offended. I apologized profusely but I didn't rat out my boss, so I will be taking the brunt of her bitchiness for... oh, eternity (or the length of my employment which hopefully comes first.) Ever since that little incident she gets pointedly snippy and uncooperative with me when she calls even though I kiss her ass. I can practically hear her cold, dead stare whenever I try to be light and friendly. At least I have the safety of only being over the phone and not in direct contact with her. I don't know. Menopausal much?


* I'll try to hold off on the work-related bitching at least for a while now. I know it's about as fun to read as... well, as it is to be here. Sorry about that.

Me and my naysaying

I was trying to think about why I always end up getting to this point in a job where I become kinda jaded. Starting out, I like the job okay - it's fresh, it's new, it's not so bad. I do fairly well and am given more responsibilites and knowledge of goings-on in the company. Then a fatal flaw occurs: I start to care. Care about the business, care about the clients that it affects, care about the image and reputation we're putting out there and want to make it better. It would be easier to just shutup and do my job without giving it an extra thought, but I can't seem to help it. I make some suggestions, do some of my gentle naysaying and usually at least some of it is received well. Then again at times it can come across as being nitpicky and negative and concerning myself with things that aren't my concern. Whether it's said or not, it is usually not my place to take these things upon myself, so I stop. These are usually matters that either aren't cost-effective or part of the Bigger Picture, therefore not worth the concern with the higher-ups. More often than not, I am reminded that the business world can be ugly and sometimes in these cases ignorance is bliss. I'm not to be mistaken as a go-getter, perhaps I just would like to think my criticism and attention to minute details occasionally work towards a good cause. I guess for once I should do what most people do and try to find a job that's worth caring about!

Searchin for a churchin

I don't know if I want to just accept the religion hand that I've been dealt only because it's familiar to me. I get the feeling that there could be something else out there that I'm more comfortable with. It's odd, when looking at the beliefs of different denominations, the old joke about declining a club's membership comes to mind. Like, would I really want to be a part of a church that would have someone like me as a member?

High School Sucked: An Occasional Series

10th grade English. We were supposed to be quietly reading Shakespeare. I felt sick, claustrophobic, and like I may burst into tears at any moment despite the medication that was intended to do otherwise. I made my way to the front of the classroom and asked Mrs. B in a whisper if I could have the bathroom pass. Up until then, we had a decent student/teacher relationship I thought. Unlike most of the jocks in my class I actually gave a shit about what we were reading or writing. But that was mostly thrown out the window in my case due to the fact that I had started accruing a substantial number of absences which I never really explained, so most teachers had me lumped into the "slacker" category. Unlike those who had initially made themselves known as slackers, I was treated with more disdain because no one likes to see someone who started out with potential head downhill so fast. Mrs. B looked up at me with a frown and shook her head "I'd rather not have you leaving class" she said sternly "I've spoken with Mr. S (my guidance counselor) and I know about your... problems." I cringed. While no teacher wants a student who's a possible mental case on their hands, she said it in a way that made me feel if I'd just asked permission to deface school property. Or as if I belonged in a straight jacket. Tears welled up in my eyes. "Well I had thought that was confidential" my voice shaking "but I'm really feeling sick and need to go to the bathroom." She handed me the hall pass, expressionless. "Quickly." I went to the bathroom in tears and dry heaved in one of the stalls. Now I wished that I was the type to deface school property. Fuck them. I wondered who else knew about my "problems" and regretted confiding in the guidance counselor. After all, we both knew he wasn't the kind of "counselor" I needed but he was the person I was assigned to speak with if I was having trouble. And talking to him meant more time away from classes that I hated, which I was sure they would also catch on to if they hadn't already. I didn't expect their sympathy, but I also didn't understand why my hurting myself made other people so angry. If this was some inspirational movie, there would've been some special teacher that reached out to me but also commanded respect and put me in my place with some tough love/heavy dose of reality kind of stuff. And I would struggle and cry and threaten, but after an uplifting music montage of getting my life back on track, would be a better stronger person for it. But of course I'm not saying that happened.

Behold the ravishes of age!

Last night, I had passed out on the couch (combination of having a drinkey-drink, reading, and I was just sleepy damnit!) and woke up a bit startled for some reason. So I quickly stood up, not realizing that after being curled up on my side for so long one leg was not fully functional. I took a step and my leg gave out, I fell and twisted my ankle. What a way to wake up. Of course it's the same ankle that I've twisted before (though it was much worse the other time) and so it's all swollen and sore around my ankey-bone today. Hmm, I could incorporate this into a Halloween costume. All I need are a few wrinkles and to throw some powder in my hair - cause I've already got the old lady thing down with my limpin-and-a-grumblin.
Then I read an article this morning about depression being linked to bone loss. Hmm, and I had thought it was just linked to a loss in boning. Harf harf.
I didn't exactly have a black cat cross my path today. But I did see the cute Cat In Tha Hood (as in bad neighborhood where my office is) who happens to be black with lil white "socks" on a couple of his/her feets. I thought I saw something moving outside the window at work, and there was the cat getting all comfy on the hood of an SUV in the parking lot. So I guess now I can call it a Hood Cat for more than one reason. Aha ahh aha. Sorry, half-assed humor is all I can scrounge up at the moment.

* I think the title line is said on one of the Simpsons Halloween specials by an old lady when Bart & Lisa go on that extremely lame "haunted" ride. Just so ya know.

Happy Halloween

I usually just say I'm going as a disgruntled employee, but I like this one:



From one of my fave web-comics, Toothpaste For Dinner.

Have fun out there, you spooky kids!

Proceed With Caution

Reasons I cried this weekend:

• because I just love him so much (sentimental)
  
• incident with the cat's litter box (frustrated)
• realization of being a loser who doesn't go out enough (depressed)
• because of my period (the underlying reason for all of the above)

Oh yeah, you can see these are completely VALID reasons for freak-outs in my troubled, hormonal mind. He hung in there with me like a trooper, but still. I'm not proud of myself. Except for making oatmeal pumpkin cranberry cookies, those turned out pretty well. So, at least there's that.

Big Empty

I feel permanently damaged, a defective product that never got a recall. I feel like... a lot of overdramatic shitty things. I know it won't always feel like this but I am stuck in the now of it. I wish there weren't so many days that I was thinking to myself that I couldn't wait for some time alone so I could cry without having to explain why. It doesn't work like that. You can't just save it all up for a more appropriate time. I'm feeling like I need something but can't quite grasp it. I want closeness, yet I don't really want to be around anyone - even myself, really. Which I suppose works since I'm feeling like some kind of people-repellant. The image in my mind of how I must appear to others is devastating. So yeah, feeling depressed to say the least.

Shampoozled

As I am often known to do, I was sniffing around at Target for a new shampoo the other day. Something I've noticed in the shampoo market is that descriptions of what hair type each shampoo is intended for have become quite specific and, almost insulting at times. For example, what was once a shampoo for "normal to dry hair" has become "for dry, brittle, damaged, over-processed, color-treated hair." Is your hair moderately dry? Not good enough to qualify, folks. Because honestly people, you cannot be ready for the help these products will give you until your hair has reached rock bottom and is desperate for change. You better have hair with some serious lack of moisture ISSUES. We're talking parched, dehydrated, crunchy, chalky, burnt spaghetti-like, turns to dust in your hands, been through the desert on a horse with no name, dry-ass MF'in hair! The products will claim ways of forcibly keeping that moisture in your hair (Intensive therapy! Shampoo contains more than 50% real unsalted butter!) and bringing it back to LIFE! Hoorah!

So, the shampoo I ended up selecting was for adding volume to fine hair but actually it had to be all high and mighty about it by saying it was "for fine, dull, limp, lifeless hair". So basically - hair that is really just some sort of pathetic excuse for hair. Bland, miserable, lame, flaccid, sickly, cobwebby, nearly nonexistent, thin like a babies' but not in a good way, why even bother having hair - kind of hair. And I foolishly thought my hair just needed a little added bounce. Glad to know where I stand in the haircare world.

Planet Piss

One of the things that sucks about our new office location is that the bathroom is very... echoey and in close relation to well, everybody. So it pretty much sounds like the bathroom user is right there in the room with you. Dude, I don't want to hear people (like my boss) pissing but more importantly I don't want them to hear me. So every time I go to the bathroom here, I turn on the faucet (which I'll add, only has cold water - hot is not even an option *) which provides hopefully just enough noise so I don't think they can hear me tinkle. Also I'm really tired of taking the lid off of the tank, jiggling the crusty metal chain/shoelace device in order to get the flapper (which doesn't even look like it fits properly) to you know, go back down and not make the toilet run constantly. Hey, I'm no plumber (but have been known to show some plumber's crack) but I do seem to know when a toilet needs a jiggling. Yeah, that sounded bad.

* which probably doesn't matter since I can also hear that they're not washing their hands anyway

Geez, my bathroom issues seem to be a recurring theme here, look:
Everybody Poops
Bathroom of Irony
Smell Ya Later

Grown ups need snow days too

Even though I've lived in this northern state all my life, every year the snow comes as an unpleasant surprise. You'll find that here. People can always chat about the weather inevitably sucking. "Ohh, can you believe this snow? Oh I know, it's awful." Snow isn't so bad when you're a kid 'cause it's like, not your problem. Then you grow up and find yourself years later still listening to the radio in anxious anticipation of a snow day, but then the reality smacks you in the face that "Shit, I still have to go to work in this crap. No fucking fair!"

So yeah, feeling sort of negative lately. Okay really negative. Like you don't even want to know. Is it me or is the feeling mutual? Is this the reason for the decrease in blogging out there? I mean, I know I haven't been that great about updating myself, but it's felt like lately there's been just a big ol' fart rolling through the blogosphere causing people to close up shop. (Not that I don't appreciate all you peeps who are still around, though!) It's just not quite the jumpin jivin place it used to be. What gives? And how come all the people who have switched to the Beta version just get quiet and don't talk about it? What are they holding over you? Is the first rule of Blogger Beta that you don't talk about Blogger Beta? What kind of crap is that? Sure, maybe I'm just jealous. Maybe I just missed the boat. Maybe I don't even want to be included. Maybe I should just go back home where it's warm and quiet and curl up with my blankey and my Jenna Jameson book, drink coffee and not think about things. It's cold here and I really should've dried my hair this morning.

Use with caution

I have to use Q-tips cotton swabs after a shower because I hate that feeling of having water in my ears. But what I hate even more is when I get a faulty one that's more "Q" swab than "tip" cotton. And I don't realize this until I've already jammed it in my ear, which the package clearly warns not to do. Ouch.

Maybe I should splurge on the name-brand ones next time.

I'm like Nancy Drew but with smells

Wait a minute, I thought, holding them up to my face and inhaling deeply I think I smell penis on these. Back to the floor with you!
And so, the case of the dirty laundry posing as the clean laundry was solved.

Toot-toot-tooot

Outside, it sounds like some kid just learning to play the recorder has been ordered to take it outside. The same note over and over keeps echoing off of the houses down the street, making someone else's dog howl. Oh, wait. Did I just hear Three Blind Mice? Badass.

That whole being a hermit idea didn't work out so well

I'm making myself sad, thinking about all the people that I've lost touch with over the years. Not just friends but family members too. Wondering if it matters to them or just matters to me. If they think that I don't think it matters. Thinking about how most of it is my fault. How I've most likely done things to hurt or piss them off. Or just the length of time without contact has pissed them off. How I wish it would be easier to just fall back into a comfortable conversation mode. I am so worried about what I think that people are thinking that I'm too afraid to really find out. I'm a coward. Worried that I won't be forgiven. Gotta fight the urge to hide under a rock. I got a stern call from my mom re: "why haven't you told them yet?" I don't know. I just don't know where to start.

Stop this train I want to get off

The new John Mayer CD, Continuum is sort of surprisingly good. Didn't think I'd be the one to say that, but shit - I will not be confined to anti-pop music snobbery! When I first heard it - courtesy of the fiance - I thought this is the kind of smooth rockin CD that you could use as a sexual innuendo a la Old School. Like "Hey baby, I was thinking tonight maybe... we could pop in that John Mayer CD?" (Wink wink, Nudge nudge) As an added bonus, it's also work-friendly and in my case, an effective boss-repellent. Yes, it's only a matter of time before it gets overplayed like everything else, but I'm gonna enjoy it while I can. I will warn you though, that these songs will get stuck in your head til it's just about not cool anymore. Yeah well, I never said I was very good at music reviews.

Stop me if you think that you've heard this one before

I've been having weird dreams lately, as I am known to do. I probably don't need to tell you that I often have weird dreams when it's Oncoming Period Week. And I probably don't need to throw in that they are often sexually weird or weirdly sexual. But I will mention this line that still is going through my head from a dream the other night. I don't know what exactly brought this on, but I was telling someone very matter-of-factly:
"Even after all these years, Rob Lowe is still fuckable."
So, just keep that in mind. I mean, sure he's good looking in that Smooth Talking Asshole Who Knows He's Good Looking kind of way, but I don't know if he's even in my top 10 DILF list (coming soon, uh possibly.) Anyways, not real sure why he was stuck in my head. I haven't seen any of his work lately, and I never even got to see those sex tapes he was famous for! But I will tell you that one time on Saturday Night Live he did a very convincing impersonation of Shaggy from Scooby Doo. He also was in the not so well known but pretty damn funny superhero movie The Specials and... well okay, maybe I do like Rob Lowe a bit and somehow triggered a subconscious reminder of that.
Okay, moving on. I probably do not need to tell you that I had another dream in which I ahem, uhh visited Lesbonia so to speak or that it was really fucking hot (so to speak). Probably shouldn't say that it involved another girl with pale creamy skin and a well-manicured front yard. I probably shouldn't even bring up the things we did to each other or who was watching while we did it. Because I really don't remember it all that well other than flashes of mental images, but damnit - it was hot in my dream so I guess I mentioned it anyway. Just forget I told you.

Yeah, it's one of those cat posts

In her old age, this cat has become quite a scavenger. That, along with her nearly a dollar-a-day habit of being a catsip fiend is making us rethink our ideas on spoiling cats. I think it's more of a thrill for her just to score the coveted people food than it is to actually eat it. Yesterday I had picked up a two-pack of small sized blueberry muffins from the gas station (yes, because I'm certainly not above gas station treats - shutup.) I ended up bringing them home and gave one to J, then carelessly thought that tucking the cellophane around the other muffin was sufficient. This morning the table was strewn with crumbs and wrappers and the sad little muffin had not only been tossed around recklessly but had several nibbles taken out of it. Little stinker. Who would've thought the cat would have any interest in blueberry muffins? What I don't get though, is not so much how she got it out of the package but how she got the muffin paper completely off the bottom and tossed it aside, still nearly all in one piece. If she can do all that, well then she can take a turn doing the dishes around here too. These cats, I tell ya...

Distractinator

I think I've just discovered a secret, special power that I have over people. Ooh! Behold! Are you ready? Folks, get this - I have the power to give people attention deficit disorder just by speaking to them! Yes! If this was a sickness, they'd be dropping like flies all around me! Even if they never appeared to have this ADD before, well I just have a knack for bringing it out in people. No snapping my fingers, casting spells, wiggling my nose or anything. Ah yes, just let the gentle sound of my voice lull you into a distracted trance and suddenly everything in the world is more interesting than this. I wasn't saying anything important anyway - you can count on that, huh? It's like magic! I can begin a sentence and wow, I'm only halfway through it before I get interrupted by you. You'll even say something that's completely off the subject. It's like I wasn't even talking! Ha, as far as you know I wasn't! Wow, I must have... what's the opposite of charisma? In addition to this ability, I can apparently erase your memory as well, as you will have no idea that we had this conversation before and that I already answered the questions you asked. It's like it never even happened and I'm just making this shit up for the fun of it!

So, as I was saying... hello? Yes, as I was saying... uh huh, it is a nice day outside, oh yep I see you're busy gazing out the window even though we were in some sort of conversation just a moment ago. That's okay, heh heh. So yeah, hi! As I was saying we did receive that paperwork just... well no, it's not a new sweater but thank you for noticing that just now. So, anyway... oh okay I've got your attention? Oh thank you, I know how difficult it is to get through this conversation with me but I just wanted to say that - no, actually that wasn't what I was going to say if you'll just lis - mm hmm, mm hmm. Okay, never fucking mind.

Big questions, vague answers

So, what's been up? I keep starting to post and then either get distracted or bored with my own words and stop. Maybe I have more to say when nothing is going on, or something like that. I'm starting to get as bad with this as I am at communicating with my family. Not good. I think I need to just write about what I'm thinking and stop thinking so much about what I'm writing. Eh?

Last weekend we attending a wedding for a guy that J works with. It was a major event, I can't even guess how much time and money went into it. The reception was lovely and fancy yet still a lot of fun. Open bar, y'all. Appetizers galore. I got more than a little tipsy and at times was whispering things to J like "I wanna fuck you right here on the ground" and "I think I'm going blind" among giddy laughter. But that's okay, it's a rare occasion that I actually get to enjoy kickin back the drinks. It was very sweet of him to look out for me and I'm thankful that he drove, although that meant he couldn't get as much of a buzz. We'll have to get better about drinking together at home. Sounds like a goal, eh? Well it would really be for the best - neither of us would have to worry about driving and we would be less likely to miss the window of opportunity when I am extremely horny and down for anythang. Christ, I'm 28 and I'm just getting this drinking thing figured out.

Of course, being at a wedding and all when you've just announced your engagement makes people throw a lot of questions at you. They all meant well, but at some points J and I were ready to plug our ears and just keep repeating "We DON'T know yet, we will tell you when we DO know!" This is one of those instances where I kinda feel like I'm just not like other women. I haven't really had this dream of exactly how I want my wedding to be for my whole life like other girls have. I don't plan on being a pushy, overbearing bridezilla and having everyone involved say "I'm just so glad it's almost over" on my wedding day. (Sure, I say that now.) I just want things to be simple. Simple is all we can afford, both monetarily and mentally! I'm sure I'll be saying more about this as things get set in motion. But for now, we still have to decide on the church and set a date to get things started. The whole church thing has made me start thinking more seriously about religion and what I believe in, and if there is a church that I feel I can identify with. I don't want to just casually throw away my Catholic roots and what I'm familiar with, but then again I feel like how I live my life and what I think is okay sort of conflicts with what the standards are for that religion. I don't know. It's a touchy subject and probably not the best one to blog about. Let's just say I feel as if I could be starting on some sort of spiritual journey at this point in my life. Yikes.

Scaredy-buns

Psst! Hey, you don't mind if I just sit here being totally spooked, do you? OMG, I smelled a cat. Seriously, it was like right here. Holy shit. That is SO not cool. I'm serious I like cannot move now, I'm just majorly fah-reaking out! Gahh! Would ya quit with the talking about me and taking the pictures? For chrissakes you're gonna blow my cover!

Get in shape, girl!

Does anyone remember the Get in Shape, Girl! craze from the 80s? Did one of you blog about this already? Well anyway, I remember it was pretty effective in making us young girls think "Excercise is FUN!" Well, fun as long as you were properly accessorized with lavender sweat bands and various pastel wrist weights. Yay, accessories! The package I had came with a cassette tape with the signature song on it and oooh, pretty ribbon on a stick thing (did that have a name?)! Anyway, if you don't know what I'm talking about check out the commercial.
So... I finally got the elliptical machine I've been thinking about getting (and procrastinating about getting) for quite awhile. I'm way overdue to get my ass in gear. It's pretty cool, I feel the burn but it's still low-impact which is good for my "old-fart legs." I used to have a somewhat decent body and I want that back! Shamefully, it's been about 10 years (since highschool gym class) that I've done anything other than walking or sex as a physical activity. Yeehaw! I know, this need for excercise comes naturally to some of you folks but for me, this is like a big thing. Woo, I'm doing something! Now if only I can be patient and stay with it even if I don't see immediate results.

Hiding from the light

If only I was still young enough for it to be teen angst. I still feel angsty. But even then it wasn't really okay. Not for me. But it was more understandable at the time. Some people just can be like that but still be charmingly endearing when it matters the most and then it's okay. I still want to keep the doors shut and locked. Hide in a closet. I want to retreat deep inside myself and say it's for artistic reasons. Create something beautiful out of something tragic. I wish I could say what I mean and have it mean something, at least to me. Half the time I know what I mean to say. Maybe it's true that the things we can't stand in others are things that we can't stand with ourselves. And we should understand each other but we don't. The things that I assume that you can't stand about me are the things that I probably can't stand with myself. So there you go. It's two-fold. I'm angry at whatever I'm angry at but I'm also angry at myself for reacting to it the way I do when I'm angry. I have all these feelings I don't know what to do with. Same as it ever was.

Some of us don't know why

Little things are changing in my little world and surprisingly enough, I feel myself going with the flow more than resisting it. Somehow I think it's all going to be okay.
I've got things to tell you and pictures to post, will have to do that a bit later.

Yesterday we watched Donnie Darko and I think it's one of those movies that will make more sense the 2nd time. It kind of creeped me out and made me think, which isn't all bad. I can be a sucker for the plot twists that everyone else sees coming. Also really enjoyed the soundtrack. I'd say it was less twistedly confusing than a David Lynch film but leaves more room for pondering and self-interpretation than a M. Night Shymalan movie. I don't know. I could be way off, I just like the movies that stick in my mind for a bit like this one. Then again, sometimes I think things are sooo deep that they're really not that deep at all.

More soon.

Smell ya later

Newsflash: Nervous Girl is feeling nervous. Uneasy. Panicky. Weird.
The inevitable moving to the new office is happening whether I like it or not. Today. Maybe it will be better. It will be different. Yep.
At least a good thing is I didn't looove the place we've been in. In fact, we could be getting out of this place just in time. For the last week or so, this place has been smelling like one big ol' toilet. It's not just the bathroom area that stinks, but the adjacent furnace/air room too - and subsequently when the air comes on, it blows dirty toilet smell through the vents. There was some ungodly toilet problem here last year in which poo-water bubbled up from the drain in the bathroom, causing a stinky flood. Yeah, gross. It was unfortunate that it happened to this sweet old woman (on crutches, no less!) who had stopped in to use the bathroom and got a little more than she bargained for. But she must've been used to toilet trouble, as she told us "Oh yeah, we live out in the country - you can't even flush toilet paper at our house." Hmm. Anyway, when the douchebag from roto-rooter came to fix it, he just got all haughty and blamed it on us women-folk and our flushing of feminine products. "Oh yahh, get a bunch of women together flushin those things and it'll do a number on your system, heh heh" Psshht. Then he touched our doorknob with his poopy glove and when he left, backed his truck into the building and then peeled out of the parking lot, pulled into the lot across the street, checked his truck for damage and then took off. What a dipshit. Or shitdipper. Whatever. The point is, I don't think whatever was wrong actually got fixed, even after our crash course in tampon disposal. So yeah, good to get out of here in the nick of time before that toilet just feckin blows up.
Anyhoo, limited amount of time before my precious computer here has to be taken down and moved - and then we won't have internet until probably Tuesday. Of course, I can use the 'puter at home on my own time, but what fun is that? Bleh, I have to go.

Stuff either happens or it doesn't

Yeah, so I really need to get a credit card. I got neeeds, yo. Expensive needs. Grown up needs. Don't try to talk me out of it. But I would preferably want to get like, say, maybe a credit card that's worth a shit? Because having only cleaned up my tainted credit recently and never having had a credit card, I only get the shit offers. They all gotta like start out with a modest $300 spending limit, which I can understand. But then they put all these fees & shit on the card right away so you actually get a card with like $76 left on it and a 21% interest rate. Fuckin shit. Bleh. I hate talking finances. Sorry about that, just don't mind me.



* Tell me what the title is a quote from and you will be sooo coool.

Officially Officialized

So yes, my birthday dinner on Thursday completely surpassed the dinner I wrote about in the last post. By far. Can't even judge it on the same scale. I don't think I can remember a (restaurant) dining experience that was this good. He made reservations and we got dressed up a bit. It was a lovely, relaxed, romantic dinner with delicious food, easy conversation, googley eyes at each other and hand-holding across the table. Six years we've been together and the same thing I said about him at the beginning still holds true: he can make me smile and laugh so much that my face will hurt and my heart feels like it could burst. In a good way.

We walked out of the restaurant in good spirits. I was feeling giddy and slightly drunk on him and on the two Long Island iced teas (I really didn't need the second one - but hell, it's my birfday) I had consumed. The sun hadn't quite set and it began softly sprinkling as he pulled me close and gave me a sweet kiss when we reached the car. Then before I knew it, he took my hand in his and got down on one knee. He looked up at me with those beautiful green eyes, so full of love and my heart raced with excitement. A small group of people who were dining outside became a cheering section and a pleasant audience to the proposal. My hand went over my mouth, half-laughing half-crying, nodding incessantly and then cradling his face in my hands and kissing him. Oh and I managed to say yes somewhere in there, the ring slid onto my finger and we embraced and kissed to another round of applause. It's official. He is mine, I am his and it was a very wonderful birthday.

Bad food experience #723

I don't often send food back at restaurants. I've been known to be a bit fussy about certain foods that I don't like but I try not to be a big pain in the ass about it, especially when dining out somewhere. I'm a pretty low hassle consumer.

So we go to grab a bite to eat at this place that is a "roadhouse" whatever that means. Okay in this instance it means that they play loud country music, provide mini-buckets of unshelled peanuts which you are welcome to litter the floor with and crunch around on, the staff is required to shout "yee-ha!" when notified of a birthday, etc. They've got your burgers, your chicken sandwiches, steaks, regular old mid-priced fare. Hmm, now I'm wondering what the appeal is in the first place. Oh, they give you fresh warm complimentary dinner rolls! Yee-ha!

So I get a french dip minus onions. Minus onions, that's unnatural and wrong you might say. Well, you don't have to deal with my fussy digestive system and I don't care to have onion-induced stabbing pain running through me for the next 24 hours. But whatever. I also order a side of mashed potatoes instead of fries or chips because well, shit I love me some mashed potatoes!

So we get our stuff and hungry as I am, I can even accept the fact that the sauteed onions that I asked to be left out are piled onto the sandwich and covered in cheese, thus making them nearly impossible to remove. I can accept that. It'll hurt later, but fuck it. But then, THEN I try the mashed potatoes. They looked decent enough. Even had some skins in there to look more authentico. But the taste - what the fuck. What is that taste? The only thing I could describe it as was a "livestock kind of taste." I made J try them and he backed me up on that description. I mean, it tasted like a smell. Like when you'd go to the county fair and there'd be a 4H club there? Or maybe when you've driven past a farm? That smell of nature, hay, mud, animal hair and of course, pipin hot excrement! I don't know. I don't get it either, but I swear if I licked a horse it would be similar to the underlying taste of these mashed potatoes. What the fuck? So with two strikes against this meal, I did send it back. And I was really, really nice about it to our server who was probably still in highschool and while she was nice and apologetic, didn't really know what to do or say other than "Sheesh, our cooks sometimes... I don't know! Hahaha! So do you want another one?" And no, I decided to go with a burger and chips to be safe. It took a long-ass time and she came back to say "Um, it's almost ready - should I just box it up for you? I mean, I know you've been here a long time and all. Oh and I'll go ahead and take the french dip off of your bill for you." Um, yeah! Like you totally should take that off the bill. If you wanted to be really nice about it you wouldn't charge me for the burger either, but whatever. J says I was probably too nice about it. Probably. Even though this is the 2nd or 3rd time I haven't liked my food there, I still have them "on notice" and not "dead to me"... nah, fuck it I changed my mind - I still had that livestock mashed potatoes taste lingering around for hours afterwards (gross), even after just a couple bites, so that's it. Dead to me!

blow up the outside world

• Finally watched Brokeback Mountain. I thought it was pretty damn good, but I had expected that much. Never was a huge fan of either of the guys, but they both did a fantastic job with their characters. I thought he always seemed goofy before but I couldn't help but get hot and bothered over Jake Gyllenhaal and his big sad eyes. Hubba hubba. Oh and there are a couple extremely brief shots of hot boobies too.
• I keep having dreams that we've moved out of our house and into a much crappier one, and it all happens so fast I don't know what's going on or why we moved. I think it's my stupid subconscious fears about my boss moving our office.
• I got to see the new office last week. I don't know. I expected the worst, as I am known to do and it wasn't exactly that awful. It's an old old house with an old old smell, but I guess it will be "cozy" as my boss says. I feel like it would be too wrong of me to add to his stress by protesting - it's not my choice to make (even though I tried giving him many other suggestions that he didn't care to look into) but I'm still really opposed to the location, not just for me but from a client's standpoint. If any of them visit us, that is. But alas, it'll be something... different. And I won't have to listen to these loud-ass people who share the office space we're in now for much longer.
• I hate it when you're driving in the hood and punkass kids won't get out of the street. It's not that they don't know you're there - they'll look right at you and even slow down if they're crossing the street walking in front of your moving car. Daring you to do something, because fuck you for being in their neighborhood anyway.
  
• My attitude really sucks lately. Sorry about that. Sometimes I wish my inner feelings weren't so transparent to the outside world.
  
• Here's one of my favorite bits from Dr. Katz to help cheer things up.
  

I'm like, angry at numbers

I guess I see what you productive people mean about just keeping busy and to just keep on moving forward. Because too often I take the time to stop and think about shit too much. And shit gets to me, ya know? Money issues make me want to tear my hair out. I don't know how people do it. I'm probably making more money than someone with my education (or lack of) deserves, yet it's still nothing. I thought I had come so far, but I'm still for the most part living from paycheck to paycheck with no kinds of savings, no 401k, no credit cards, no wealthy relatives, none of that. Bah.
I feel sick about things. Birthday is next Thursday and it seems like I always get kinda down around that time, getting all reflective about shit. There's hardly any of my 20s left and I feel like it's all a blur of time that I've wasted, or at least could've done something better with. I've got a lot on my mind and it's all a jumbled up mess, probably should keep some of this depressing crap to myself. Bah!

What's in that pocket?

Part 1 of a possible series I might call: The Horrors of Dirty Laundry

So you know if you take your clothes to the drycleaners you might want to check your pockets first, right? Having worked at two of them I have to say it's quite an important step of the process - not only did we make sure your favorite pen or driver's license didn't go through the drycleaning machine (ok, so it happened once and uh, no it didn't make it out of there too well - sorry dude, your license is all melty now) but we also would you know, check for all kindsa goodies that were left behind. Whee! Loose change! Treasures! Incriminating evidence!
Can you guess which one of the following I did not find in a customer's pocket?

• Soiled underwear
• Nudie pics
  
• Lunchmeat
• A turd
  
• Bloody gauze
  
• Viagra
• A bag of weed
• Flavored condoms
  
• Handgun ammo

And just think of how disturbing that would be if all of these things had been in one customer's clothes!


UPDATE 8/15: Answer time!

Thanks for the comments and the guesses, folks! The only item on the list above that I did not find in a customer's pocket was:
***nudie pics***
Which must mean that people keep much better track of those than any other item OR our customers were just generally more nasty than they were sexual, I don't know.
And now for the explanations of the other items we did find:

• Soiled underwear - People left their underwear in their garments way WAY too often. Depending on the customer, whether or not it was a first offense, and the state of the undergarment, we would sometimes put them in a little bag and give it back to the customer. Other times, we'd spare them possible embarrassment by just throwing the undies away. Sometimes it would be boxer shorts that were taken off hastily along with the pants, but also some not-so-whitey-tighties would get thrown in the mix - which were usually from older men and worthy of being labeled a biohazard. The time I'm referring to though was when we found an obviously worn thong in a woman's pocket. Maybe she just couldn't take having something up her butt all day and decided to go commando instead.
  
• Lunchmeat - We were given a load of some of the most foul-smelling clothes from a drunkass (possibly a drunkass hobo) who pulled up in the back of a taxi and shouted his slurred orders for what to do with his nasty clothes. I can't believe we even took them, but our owners were ones to rarely ever turn away business, no matter how nasty the stuff was and not knowing if they'd ever get their money for cleaning it. So partway through getting this guy's clothes checked out (after he had left), my coworker reaches in to a pants pocket (fortunately she had a glove on) and says "ughh, something's stuck in here" and continues to pull until she can peeeel this opened package of turkey lunchmeat out that had become fused inside the pocket. Or well, maybe it was turkey at one time many months ago but now it was this revolting black turkey-slime. Blechhh! We both came very close to vomiting.
  
• A turd! Yes, a turd. I was checking the pockets of one of our regulars - an elderly farmer-ish man who often had a little trouble with incontinence. So in his back pocket, in a sandwich bag, flattened like it had been sat on for a long time - was the turd. I guess I hope that he had a dog he was picking up after and just forgot about throwing that away, but I really don't know.
  
• Bloody gauze - this really pissed me off because it was in the sport jacket of this asshole plastic surgeon who really should've known better about disposing of those kinds of things.
• Viagra - found in the pocket of an elderly man that might've needed another medication so he could remember to take it.
  
• A bag of weed - what a find! Somehow with no prior indication that it might be something I would partake in, my coworker (who was in her 60s) says "oh, well lookee here" and tosses me the bag. "Oh wow, I might know someone who would like...." I started to say, and she cut in with "Whatever honey, I didn't see a thing." How cool is that? It was just a little bit of shake, but shit with that kinda thing I think the universal rule is finders keepers.
  
• Flavored condoms - these got passed around the entire place so everyone could have a giggle.
• Handgun ammo - found in the pocket of a 3 piece ivory linen suit from a guy who never took his sunglasses off. Creepy.
  

Those were some fun times, I tell ya!

Jemima's witnesses

When I was a kid, I had a strange fear that the woman on the bottle of pancake syrup would come to life and start talking to me. This could very well interfere with my enjoyment of delicious pancakes. I would even turn the bottle around so she wasn't watching me, looking for some signal to come to life. I don't know why I didn't think this was cool, as she seemed jolly enough and probably would've just made more pancakes. And I loved pancakes. But I didn't know what all she knew, and she surely could've gotten me in trouble for something those days. Always watching with those beady little eyes! Now I find that my fears were all for nothing, as most of the time I remember us having the more reserved Aunt Jemima syrup around the house and not that crazy chattin Mrs. Butterworth. (I think this video is funny enough on it's own without the subtitles, but you get the idea.)

Garden, shmarden

If you go back a few months, you can see I started out being kinda gung-ho about this whole gardening thing. Though I enjoy seeing the new plants and things pop up, I can't say I've maintained my excitement level about doing the actual gardening. Yeah, I suck. In other words - I've kinda let some of it get neglected and plus, there are a bunch of stupid wasps hanging around where I need to pull weeds. And then, when you pull a ton of weeds - what do you do with them? The trash people don't want to take them, the city brush collection doesn't want to take them (jerks), and there's only so much room for a pile of compost behind the garage. Eh, oh well - for as little as I've done, it's not so bad (thanks to the previous homeowners planting a bunch of perennials). Here are a couple of the latest pics.

Holy chit, mang! Dos' flowers are as big as jer head!

I wanted to get a shot of the one ripened termater there in the middle, but it apparently was being protected by it's big ol' termater family. I like how you can just see a little red peeking out. We shared our first homegrown tomato the other day and it was so nice and fresh (and I've never even really liked tomatoes!)

My latest guilty pleasure on TV

Has anyone been watching Sexual Healing on Showtime? If so, what do you think? It's a couple's therapy show with Dr. Laura Berman where real-life couples attend her workshops and are filmed throughout the week - even in bed. I'm intrigued by this show because:
A) Well, you know things that are sex-related usually interest me;
B) I like to see how different couples interact with each other and see if I can guess what the underlying issues are;
C) I've had a secret interest in being a therapist myself, which probably sounds silly coming from me - but I guess it always seems easier to recognize and deal with other people's problems than your own, and helping people is cool;
D) I think it's important for people to have good, healthy sexual relationships!

So if I have any point here, I guess it's that hey, we've all got issues and don't have to feel like we're alone, hopeless or any more messed up than the next person.

Reheated leftovers for you!

Hey! If you're new here or visiting from the delightful Mr. Husbland's blog, I direct you away (avert your eyes!) from the depressing stuff and onward to this post if you're looking for my infamous (not really) first time sex story. Sex, sex, SEX! And no, it's not too late to share your own devirginization story (I don't have any prizes to tempt you with, but I'll give you... um, virtual respect knuckles and coolness points and I will of course read it with my full undivided attention and all that.)

Update - I'm throwing out some more leftovers from way back in the fridge (in which I throw even more links out in hopes to entertain you while I do some cleaning):
- The token "I hate this shitty apartment complex" post (thankfully, that's all in the past now).
- The story about playing "dirty barbies"
- The token.... I guess I'd just file this one under "in the mood".
- And just for shits & giggles and to keep with the theme here it's a post full of links to more leftover posts - ha!

If you've already read everything here, well damn - you're quite a trooper and I need some new material.

Tell me now how do I feel

Haven't written for a bit and here I am still with nothing wild & crazy to report. But hey, no tales of woe and misery either! Well, not really. Okay, a little woe.

I am experiencing this depression-related anger and anger-related depression. I don't like feeling like this and I feel bad for feeling like this. Some days I feel pretty much like myself, but then lots of days I feel like I'm experiencing the hormonal equivalent to being pregnant, or having postpartum depression, or going through menopause. I know I haven't actually been through these things but they all have something in common - hormonal or chemical imbalances gone awry. I'm not only annoying myself, but the people around me who don't deserve it - and that in turn, makes me feel worse.

I could go into a thing about medications and whether I think they're helping or hurting me, but that's kind of a long boring story that I've discussed with some of you already. Then I happened to come across this article today about going off antidepressants (or rather, not being able to go off them) and it's kind of interesting, though I can't say it was very uplifting. Feeling sort of damned if I do and damned if I don't. But for what it's worth, it's good to know I'm not the only one who feels or has felt this way.

So, bleh. I haven't even felt like blogging or emailing (but I will!) lately - which sadly enough, is usually one of my more pleasant distractions from life. But if I write, I'd be writing shit like this, and that's no fun. Sorry! I'll try to get the regular old me back soon.

Gentlemen, behold

You must understand that once you start giving this stuff to your cat, you will never be allowed to stop. I think it might even say that in the fine print somewhere. Just so you know.




Update:
Goodness people - I'm serious, once you start with this as a treat you've got a fiending cat underfoot every time you go to the fridge. Ha, I even found some testimonials on the catsip site! Oh and you can also find out there what stores in your area have it. Good luck!

Hey hey hey, yes I like it a lot

Even when everything is standing completely still, the humidity makes you instantly sticky and the heat stifles you like being in a headlock under someone's armpit... this is still some good stuff, right here. Summer. Even an indoor kind of person like me wants to embrace this for as long as I can. The first summer in our first house with our first lawn and our first garden. Shootin hoops with my sweetie, the drinkin-n-grillin, having light outside even in the evenings - I have to remember to appreciate these little things before they so quickly slip away. I don't want this to end. In Michigan you gotta enjoy it while it lasts.

Needles & Pins

One of those mornings I wake up thinking "shit, how did I manage to sleep on both of my arms for so long I've rendered them useless?" That sucks. Gotta wait for the less numb one to have enough life to shake out the other one. Then stumble to the bathroom and fight to get the stupid toothbrush out of the toothbrush holder that it's really too big for, you really gotta twist and pull it out of there - without realizing that I'm brushing my hand up against the business end of an uncovered razor that's also in the toothbrush holder. Oops, I'm bleeding. So then I stumble around blind without my contacts looking for the band-aids. Alright then, gooood mornin!

And I guess that I just don't know

I wonder what our new office will look like. It's an old house - I picture it being really dark and musty inside, with creaky floors and splintering wood and that weird smell hanging in the air like someone peed there long ago, but you can't tell if it was a human or a dog. Will there be a fridge and microwave? Do I dare eat at my desk? I need to know the quality of the facilities. It will just be me, the boss and our landlord dude. Yeah, sounds hot but not really. You know how it is. Old house + old plumbing + being the only girl = if anything goes wrong with the toilet, the immediate assumption will be "yup, she must've been flushin them feminine products, that's the problem right there" and I'll try to explain that I didn't but they won't believe me and I'll have to pull my pants down and prove it's not even that time of the month. Oh yes, I've seen this scenario played out before.

Something about being here these days makes me feel as if I'm pretty much on the verge of a super-freakout. I don't feel right when I'm here. I have rotten thoughts and have been known to cry at my desk more that once. And this is one of the best environments I've ever worked in. I can't quite pinpoint what it is. But I have a feeling that once it's gone, I will miss what we had here. I might not have as much freedom in the future to do what I do. Which is this. And that will make me sad.

The (infamous) First Time

He was a Dutch boy from out of town. Friend of a friend. Front teeth were crooked in an endearing little way that made me think he must've been a thumbsucker. He had a mohawk and it would usually be Punky Color'd bright blue or pink. He was the quiet bass player wearing the Operation Ivy T-shirt and drawing black and white checkers on stuff. He had thick fingers and liked Big Macs. His eyes were sparkly and devoid of concern. A thick, heavy chain around his neck was clasped with a padlock. At some point, he gave me a key to it. I'm only half-ashamed to tell you that I was the one who pursued him. I was seventeen.

There was this urgency to get *it* over with. I had NEEDS, people! Mrrowr! Gimme, gimme, GIMME! Oh but there was more to it than just being pent up with sexual frustration. Like most other milestones in life, I just wanted to do it like it was some rite of passage into coolness. I don't think he could've cared less whether or not he was the one to deflower me, but I was insistent. I was going to be home alone all weekend and this was the big chance.

I had already met his penis, so I wasn't intimidated by that aspect of it. The previous time he had been in my room had ended up in an exhausting 20 minute blowjob in which he laid there lifelessly except for a half-chub then finally said "hey, I think I gotta pee." So yeah, a whole lot of passion right there.

I didn't exactly expect fireworks. I kind of expected it to hurt, but then get better. It was... well, it was something. But not quite what I had expected. I was too nervous to get that turned on, but still thought that I would just be overcome by a feeling of closeness or well, something. Turns out I had just read way too much erotica over the years and got myself way too psyched up about it.

Back to the bedroom. We got naked. The 3-pack of condoms were produced. There wasn't much foreplay, it was more like "Ready? Ok, here goes." Turns out, it wasn't excruciating. Or moan-inspiring. It just was what it was. He slumped over me for a while, I dodged getting hit in the face by the swinging padlock around his neck, we got a little sweaty and it was done. He immediately pulled the condom off and set it on my nightstand. Classy.

We laid there with the lights out for a bit. Moonlight shining in. I thought about what we had done. I finally did it! Yay? It felt like something was missing. The following was probably the stupidest thing he could've said to me, but only because it was preceded by the stupidest thing that I could've said at the time.

Me: (hopefully) "I... love you"
uncomfortable silence, crickets chirping
Him: (exasperated sigh) "Well... you shouldn't"
turn so I can face away from him in pouty silence
Him: "Did you say there was some Dr. Pepper downstairs?"

Classic!

We stepped outside and smoked our respective cigarettes. It was late. We went back inside and he seemed to be gathering his things like he was going to leave. Again, it just didn't feel right that that was "it". I gave him a pleading look and pulled him by his chain back into bed. "One more time before you go?"

4 minutes later...

Yep, I guess that was it. Huh. I didn't even really break my cherry until my next, better-endowed boyfriend (bless his heart.) Too much info there? Was that mean? Well, fiddlesticks. I don't come out looking too great in this story either. I only had one more experience with the punk boy - in which he had just returned from a Gwar show and got fake blood all over my pillow. Then he disappeared for a while and ended up hooking up with that 15 year old girl that had always liked him but he had always pretended he didn't like her (and I wonder - did she have the other key to his lock? Because I kept mine.) So you know, the typical "first time" story.


Blogger challenge!
I think you should write about your first time, too. It would be cool. Just a suggestion. Not just because I've got a filthy mind, but because I'm curious and nosey! (Well unless it's one of those actually traumatic experiences that you don't want to relive.) Come on now, peeps. We're all friends here, right? Take a seat, have yourself a little drink and tell me all about it.

Tonight I think I'll walk alone I'll find my soul as I go home

** There's another new post below this one, you know. In case you want to read something a little lighter. **

Maybe I'd feel better if I got my hair cut. I'd probably feel better if I colored it too. It would probably help to get some new clothes so I don't look like this. Think I'd feel better if I wasn't drinking this awful slimfast. Maybe I'd just feel better if I wasn't me.

Sometimes I realize that I'm not as understanding as I set out to be. I have a hard time with jealousy and of course it's based on insecurity. I have a hard time believing that pretty girls get the blues. I have an especially hard time believing that rich and pretty girls get the blues. That they could possibly understand. They've always got lots of friends and things to do and showerings of compliments from cute boys and their drugs get paid for. No one minds a pretty girl with problems, even when she's nothing more. Then again, I think I was almost pretty for about 1.5 years but I didn't know it and I was miserable then too. So who am I to judge?

Maybe getting comfortable was the worst thing I ever did. Just accepted it, accepted myself and left it at that. You hate those kind of people. We just haven't found our place or a reason why. I tried to embrace this lifestyle and not only does it not look right on me, I think I'm failing miserably. I never try hard enough. I don't know what's worth fighting for. See that speeding car coming at me and instead of dodging it, just accept that it'll hit. Accept the fate without flinching. Another one weeded out. I'm not getting anything done. I'm so tired all the time.

Well, it is creamy

Can I tell you something dirty and maybe even ironic? Well, just avert your eyes if you don't want to read anything crude.

So, years ago there was a girl aquaintance of mine who was very open about what she did or didn't like sexually. One thing she said that stuck out in my mind was how much she loved spooge in her mouth - I mean, she really loved it and was very descriptive about the taste of it. Now while I'm no prude, I tend to get a little squeemish at times when um, certain body things are compared to food. So she goes on to tell me about how this one guy tasted like clam chowder (that can't be right), and one guy tasted more sweet n' salty, but her favorite was the guy who tasted like an alfredo sauce. (Alfredo sauce?!) She was like "no really, if I could bottle that up and put it on my pasta..."

So you can imagine how ridiculously funny it was (well, to me) when a few years later I saw her and a date at Olive Garden (chain Italianish restaurant) and all I could think about was whether she had a craving for some fettucine alfredo or if she'd already tasted some that night. Ba dum dum tssht.

Weekenders on our own

Notes from the weekend that certainly didn't make any headlines but will be noted here anyway:





- We rearranged our living room so it's got a good flow now. Not like we know about feng shui or anything, but it just seems to have a better feel to it now so uhh, we'll drink to that.

- I smelled good. If you want a lotion that has a soothing scent, a nice quality feel to it and is super-cheap - the Target brand lavender & chamomile baby nighttime lotion does the trick and it costs barely more than $1 - unheard of! Plus, it calms me when I'm fussy. Then again, if you have or have had a baby around maybe you're totally sick of that smell and think I'm fuckin crazy for suggesting it.

- We took a chance on a nearby diner for breakfast and were pretty happy with it. It was the kind of place that's almost extinct now: they have regulars that they call by name, the cooks ring the bell when an order is up, the waitresses were friendly but not in your face, and the food was cheap and done right. Wood paneling, all booths instead of tables - which is always fine by us, and you gotta pay in cash.

- Only got caught up with one more episode of Deadwood. It was on last night too so now we're 3 episodes behind (KC don't tell me what happens!) but I learned a new line that I'd love to put into use. If someone you dislike says "Mornin" you can respond with "Mornin - best time of day to go fuck yourself!" (Hmm, feels like blogger has been saying that to me all morning!)

- At one point in the midst of our yardwork, we came to each other both saying "look honey!" J's cupped hands revealed a teeny little toad (body about the size of a quarter) that just barely escaped the lawnmower. That was more interesting than the piece of petrified wood I found (I don't know why it was in one of the flower beds, but okay whatever.) So I went about my business, needed to water a few things. I put a scoop of Miracle Gro in the watering can and then went to fill it up as usual. Dropped the hose into the watering can before turning the water on and heard a flop and something skittering around in there. I looked inside, and it was another teeny toad - just for me! Musta been chillin up in the hose. So I dumped him out, but now the poor little guy had blue plant food chrystals all stuck to him, so I gave him a quick rinse and sent him on his way. Then later I thought maybe I shouldn't have rinsed that off. I could've ended up with a prize-winning miracle toad. Maybe he would've grown to the size of a cow and I could've named him Thunderclees. Damn.

Dolor de cabeza

Blargh. Something doesn't feel quite right today. Tummy troubles, hurty head, dark clouds moving in. Think I'd like to just snuggle up with the cat and my sweetie and catch up on some Deadwood episodes that we've missed. We'll see. My Fridays are known to be pretty low-key.

to accept the things I cannot change...

Sometimes someone needs you to step up to the plate. They need you to be strong and assertive and helpful and all the things you're not more than ever before. It should be your chance to shine. It might be, if you were the average normal good person. But instead of stepping up to the plate, you just stare at the plate. Just stare at it - frozen, numb, silent. Thinking about it. Hoping it will magically go away, solve itself. It just seems like too much and all turns into a pounding mess in your head. You just get those big baby tears in your eyes the way that's totally socially unacceptable to do at your age and try to will yourself to take a few shaky steps closer to that damn plate, all the while wanting to turn and run away.
By "you" of course I mean me. One of those stupid things.

Take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you

In lieu of a real post, I'm just going to throw out some topics for discussion:

• How the hell do you wear dress shoes in the summer and not end up with stanky feet? Is there any kind of anti-sweat material they could possibly use to line the shoes? They all feel gross and seem to induce the funk.
• It's corny, but I like the latest Fruit of the Loom commercial. Come on, even if you don't like the song you have to admit it's well done.
  
• The previews for that movie "Little Man" just look absolutely awful. Makes me want to coldcock somebody. I mean, a reviewer said that you'd be better off watching White Chicks if you want to enjoy the Wayans Bros. Better off, people. Do you understand how bad that must be?
  
• Every night when I go home things are okay, I relax. Every day I let my mind wander into a bad place, I pick apart everything I thought was okay and obsess over everything that's not.
• I had a dream that my boss and I slept with the same woman. Not at the same time, but still it was odd competing with my boss. I kinda think I had better macking skills.
  
• Sometimes the internets make me sad. It's a love/hate kind of thing.
• I love nothing better when I've got a good (drink) buzz going than to listen to some classic rock and hug on you.
  
• I went to highschool with this guy. It's weird to see him now and then on TV or in movies. Haven't had many brushes with celebs, so it's pretty cool - even though, like most people I went to highschool with - I'm pretty sure he would have no idea who I am (even though it was a small school).
  

Your own personal K-Fed

Ladies - can you look back at your dating history and say that there was a time that - just like Britney - you had your very own personal K-Fed? Come on, let's be "for reals" now. I know, it's embarrassing. But we were all young, dumb and full of... um, stuff back in day. We made mistakes. Slutty mistakes. No? Just me? Alright, then.

You know what I mean, though - the guy who embarrasses you in public, he could use some help in the smell department, your friends don't like him, your parents know you could do better, hell - most of the time you don't even like him. But damnit, he's got something about him - the greasy bastard. And he needs you, baby - well, sometimes. He's been known to demonstrate his rappin skillz that are gonna pay tha billz for you while you sit cringing on a smelly-ass couch with a smelly-ass dog slobbering on you... oh wait, that was probably just me. So anyway, you're all defensive of him to other people, like "But y'all just don't know him - he's got something special. He's just misunderstood. And I know deep down there's a good person in there... I mean, I think that's what that was." ¹

If I combine 2 of the guys from my past, I realize that I too had a glimpse of what it would be like with my very own K-Fed! Sure, neither of them danced ² , had muscles, or knocked me up (thank God) but for all intents and purposes - well, just shutup and listen to the story. One had the K-Fed kind of looks except, well - he was almost hot in his own way, I gotta say. Even with that big ol' tattoo on his forearm that the artist had messed up so the "hot naked chick" was more of a "hot naked cross-eyed chick that looked kinda pissed off". Okay but he had those faintly hispanic looks, combined with his homeboy clothes and puppydog eyes that just got my panties all in a tangle. Yeah, I don't know why. There I'd be, grinding myself against his sweaty abdomen, gripping those bronzed shoulders and whispering "Mmm, say something in Spanish to me baby" and he'd sigh and exclaim "Goddamnit, I told you - my dad's Greek, why does everyone think I'm Mexican?" Yeah, it was some hot times. Okay, not really. He was a good boy (not in general - but to me for that 2 weeks, at least), just well, not that bright. But neither was I, so there you go.

The other guy was a K-Fed in spirit more than looks - though I'm sure K's clothing and hair choices woulda been right up his alley. While he had nothing (job, car, pot to piss in), he always had big ideas about something ³ - I'll give him that. I wonder if he ever fulfilled his dreams of being a hustler? He sure had several years of dedicated practice. But yes, the spirit of K-Fed was strong in this one. I wonder if Britney would agree with me on this - nothing makes a girl feel special like being whispered the sweet nothings of "what the fuck you tryin to look all pretty for?" or "I stole this for you from this bitch I stayed with last night" or "Ey, how much money you got? Gimme 40 bucks and a ride downtown." Ahh, yes - bestill my trash-lovin heart.

Hmm, actually the real K-Fed isn't looking so bad right now. It should be noted that Kevin Federline is merely being used here as a scapegoat for cheap laughs - I have done no real in-depth research on the Spears/Federline coupling.


¹ - nope, turns out it was just a burrito
² - unless you wanna count "dancing" as in dancing around the subject of his probation
³ - but mostly nothing

Bees in my bonnet

The 10 things I hate list (as suggested at Gone Feral - please read her list, it's much funnier)

1. Dates & figs - blech! That tingling feeling behind my ears and the involuntary shuddering is nature's way of saying that these should never be passed off as a sweet treat, except maybe to a desperate fruitbat. Gross.
   
2. Playing "Find That Smell" - especially in the kitchen. Even if you win, you lose. Note: it was the potatoes.
   
3. Bitches who want to compete with you even though you're not trying to compete. Yes, you have an overly-inflated sense of self worth and something to prove - that's wonderful. Go away.
   
4. That people feel the need to push, push, PUSH their religious views &/or diet plans (which is worse?) on others. I understand that they found a lifestyle that works for them (or as they might say "the truth") and they think everyone should, it's just when they gotta be all up in your face about it - it's not cool. Agree to disagree.
   
5. How there's always someone at every job that has to remind the rest of us that she "doesn't even need this job" because her husband makes GOOD money.
   
6. Car problems. Nuff said.
   
7. When the damn blog template doesn't load right and the background images aren't there and the whole thing has just gone to shit for no reason. Grghh! That really burns my butter.
8. An empty inbox. Even when it's deserved due to my lazy ass.
   
9. Dueling alarm clocks. One on each side of the bed. Every weekday morning at 5 or 7 minute intervals. You'd think that we'd wise up and not both hit snooze(s) repeatedly for almost an hour, but well... we do. Even though we hate it.
10. Bugs - especially earwigs, the creepy bastards. Their name alone gives most people who've known these little fuckers a wicked case of the heebie-jeebies. Do they even have a fucking purpose?

Honorable mentions:

- "Hollaback Girl" - yeah, I said it. Everyone loved this ear-bleedin song but me.
- Guilt trips. The only kind of family trip you can count on.
- Water chestnuts - gak!
- Jewel. This may just get a post of it's own.

Rather than dishing out the taggings - why don't you crazy hatin kiddos just let me know if you make a shitlist of your own? Come on, let it out!

Right, you're bloody well right

Pissing me right off (not the official list):

1. that I can't say what I want
2. that if I do say what I want, I'll be considered "too sensitive" or "overreacting" and not a "team player"
3. that nothing I say seems to make a difference anyway
4. that I don't have the skillz to qualify for much else jobwise
5. I've only got a nasty imitation slim-fast (not even real slimfast) and overly salty pretzels for "lunch"
6. that my mom gave me crap even about eating pretzels, saying I "better watch those carbs!"
7. money issues
   
8. that you can practically see my bra through the gap between buttons on this shirt (the shirt is stretchy but my rack is bigger than it used to be)
   

Funny enough, I wrote this post (Wednesday) before I knew I had been tagged by Feral Mom to list 10 things I hate. Oh I'm sure I can manage to stir up and spew forth some more hatred - stay tuned! Woohoohahaha....

Don't look at me that way

Sometimes BossMan delights in his own crapulence and sexist bullshittery. Sometimes it is funny, most of the time I just cringe. Granted, he doesn't get my kind of humor either so we don't successfully joke around too often.

Last week, a friend of the woman in the other office came in and he passed her in the hall on the way to my office. He comes in, pointing in her direction and shaking his head. In a LOUD whisper he exclaims "Damn that bitch is UHH-GLEE!"

At the time I was taken a bit by surprise that he actually said that, so I just shook my head at him and gave him a sort of disapproving, "please shutup" kind of look.

Then later I thought - wait, maybe he's trying to BOND with me like I'm one of the guys. Damn, wish I could go back and do that over in the mindset of one of his guy friends. That would've really thrown him. I woulda been like "Sheeeit dude! I wouldn't even touch her with your dick!" All loud and stuff. But of course I didn't think of that til like 6 hours later.

Then he'd get embarrassed and tell me not to talk like that. Ha!