Nonsense

My mind is in the clouds. I'm a dreamer. My hopes will build up so high, they are destined to fly away like a kite that's lost it's string, destined to get tangled in a live wire and burn to a crisp. And all I will have left is what I began with, a dream.
I'm still not sure what exactly it is, or what I would do if it came true. So I tried to stop thinking about it. I don't want to have to seek it out this time. It should happen naturally. It's this partially finished puzzle that's been sitting out for 10 years collecting dust. I keep trying to put the wrong pieces into place because I want them to fit so badly. But it'll never be finished. As many pieces as I take, I give as many away. My edges are frayed and worn from trying to fit where they don't belong. Perhaps I could learn how to take your shape, and find somewhere we could both fit into place.

different camera, same crazy look

Still not much of a photographer, as you can see.
My cat looks like she's posessed and has something to say!



I can't help but look like a deer in the freakin headlights. But eh, that's what I'll put up for now, until I can't stand it and take it down. Seriously, I freak myself out.

Random oddity

On my way home from work today, I was behind this early 90s red Buick. On the back window, neatly centered, was one lone bumper sticker. In a delicate white scripty font it read "I'm A Cock Sucker" - I had to smile.

Good songs for sad days part 2

Between the Bars - Elliott Smith

Drink up, baby, stay up all night
With the things you could do, you won't but you might
The potential you'll be that you'll never see
The promises you'll only make

Drink up with me now and forget all about
The pressure of days, do what I say
And I'll make you okay and drive them away
The images stuck in your head

People you've been before that you
Don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Drink up, baby, look at the stars
I'll kiss you again, between the bars
Where I'm seeing you there, with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught

Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Seperate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot

People you've been before that you
Don't want around anymore
That push and shove and won't bend to your will
I'll keep them still

Silly post #108

Ever embarrassed yourself not by saying the wrong thing, but saying the words incorrectly? There are some words that just make me giggle when they are mispronounced. I'm guilty of this too, sometimes the first time you see a word you just get it in your head how it would sound, and even after you're corrected, it's hard to forget. It wasn't that long ago that I said film noir as film no-eer or pronounced wanton as won-ton but hey, those are words I don't often use!

I always thought it was funny that when my dad says white, it's like he switches the w and the h around and says "hwite" - I don't know, maybe that's old school.

My favorite mispronunciation came from a lady I used to work with. She was known for this, or just using the wrong words. Like I don't know how many times when listening to the radio she said "Ooh, that's Jason Timbaland!" and I would say "Goddamnit, it's Justin Timberlake, I told you that 5 minutes ago!" But the best was when she was making a comment about having a big butt, and trying to say derriere but said "my big di-ah-ree-er" which just, you know, doesn't sound good.

Where it stops, nobody knows

Monday. Bleh. Work to be done and all that crap. Had stuff I wanted to write about, but that will have to wait a little bit.
So, Jim's gone (from It's Jim), and seems as if he's pretty sure he's not coming back. He will be missed. Did something awful happen, did something wonderful happen to make him do away with his entire blog? Will he change his mind? I don't know. I thought you people knew you couldn't leave the friendship/support group thing we have going on here! Okay, okay you can leave - we just like to know what's going on. Hope everybody is doing well.

By the way, the new Death Cab for Cutie album, "Plans" is pretty fucking cool man! It's good for that quiet, reflective, thoughtful, tears falling into your coffee kind of mood. In a good way.

"Say A Prayer for Texas"

I'll be thinking of those of my southern blogger friends, especially Blush and Dave. You're some wonderful folks and I hope you're all somewhere safe. If SayUnderpants isn't back from her cruise, I hope she's made it safely away from the danger.

You know I worry - it's my thing.

I love you people!

Boobs can't always be free

I had this idea that perhaps I should carry a spare bra around with me.

I've got plenty in my drawer that aren't getting much use. What can I say? You know, if something's on clearance and well, it's pretty close to my size....eh, it'll probably work. Or that's what I tell myself. I don't want to try it on - hell no! It looks like it'll fit, what, should I hold it up to myself and look in the mirror? Eh, fuck it, I'll buy it anyway because it's cute. And then it sits in my drawer and doesn't get worn, or it gets worn once and I either have a bad day of strap-adjusting or boob lifting, or I have trouble breathing, and it gets tossed back in the drawer. So why do I buy bras that might not be my size? Sometimes it's a matter of wishful thinking. I guess now, finally at the age of 27 I should accept the fact that my boobs probably aren't going to keep growing, ya know? I mean, they're a good handful, but my hands are pretty small. The other thing is that even though there are universal charts for measuring your bra size, all manufacturers seem to vary. I personally like the ones that run small, so I can buy the next cup size up, look at the cashier like yeah, that's right!

But anyways, why in the hell would I carry one of these spare uncomfortable bras around with me? Well, simple: there are women out there who desperately need them, and they might as well be put to good use. You know a woman's in a bad way if she's got nips the size of cocktail weenies that are just hanging out under an ill-fitting shirt. The kind that make you sort of grimace and try not to look like it's bothering you. It makes me sad. I don't think it's on purpose. Going bra-less in the summer, wearing a halter top or tank is one thing if you've got small boobs, but this just aint right. And twice at my new job, women have come in asking me for something or other with this problem. This goes along with another story I have about people off the street being drawn to me because I'm a target for the homeless/mentally ill/crackhead type (and as you remember - anyone selling anything). I'm really not the type that doesn't care about these people, and I'm not trying to be insensitive. Other people have told me to NOT give money or anything to these beggars, but since I'm not using these bras anyway... I could at least offer the ladies some uhh... support?

Good songs for sad days part 1

"A Lack Of Color" - Death Cab for Cutie

And when i see you
I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry, lover
It's really bursting at the seems
Absorbing everything
The spectrum's a to z

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years
And all the girls in every girlie magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone
I'm reaching for the phone

To call at 7:03
and on your machine I slur a plea for you to come home
But i know it's too late
I should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay [x3]

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years

New cam - still getting the hang of it

"Misdemeanor" Muffers

Being blessed by the cat

Creepy laundry room

Skanks a plenty

So the other day this little boy came running up to me and said "Hey, hey lady! Do you have children?" and I was kind of like "No" like he should know that. But then I realized I'm the only one my age around here that doesn't have a little kid running around. Our building has become a popular place for some skanky baby-mommas and all they drama. What really pisses me off lately is when they sit outside on the front stoop (I can't even call it a front porch, it's not made to look inviting) ignoring their kids, being loud and blocking the entranceway. That's nice, so you can't just go about your business without having to cross these people. The newest neighbors have a little girl whom I've introduced myself to, but her "parents" are unlikely to give you a nod of recognition. I have no idea which baby daddy is which, but daaaang, these girls like some nasty dudes. Here's some examples of baby daddy requirements:

• must have truck that needs to be worked on and makes a lot of noise
• must get into verbal arguments in the parking lot about visitation rights
• must be shirtless or wear sleeveless shirts and baseball hats
  
• must have at least 3 creepy friends to come along when visiting the baby momma
• must be at least partially redneck or whiteboy-thug

So, just another example of apartment life at it's finest!
I don't want to get paranoid, but that's what I do. I keep smelling something weird that's like the chemicals in a perm or sulfur. I can't figure out if it's just our nasty water or our nasty neighbors.

My 100th post = ehh, same old stuff...

Alright. Here's a recap of the blog so far, in case you're new around here and didn't catch season one of Nervous Thoughts. I went back and reviewed my archives to give you an example of the types of posts on this blog:

• 21% personal stories/memories/dreams

• 19% pictures

• 16% attempts at humor

• 14% nonsense
  

• 13% observations

• 8% depressed stuff

• 8% work stories
  

Yep, I nerded out like that. But I'm not making a pie chart.

Here's something cute to look at, though - the red panda! It's about time to start working in some of these zoo pictures from 2 years ago.

Almost

Do you ever have dreams that start out as uninhibited and incredibly hot, then twist into something completely lame? Well, it's quite frustrating. Or do you ever end up being rejected in your dreams? How bad is that, when you're rejected in your own fantasies? It happens to me sometimes, but that is probably because I am messed up and even my subconscious knows that.
It's always the leading up to it that's the exciting part, but then before anything happens something ruins it or it morphs into another dream.

This can't be right

Your Seduction Style: Sex Pot

Tradionally known as a "siren", "rake", or "femme fatale." You exude sensuality. And while your sexiness is part of what makes you an incredible seducer... Your ability to make others feel sexy is what really makes your seduction skills shine. Most people don't feel attractive or desired enough - a need which you tap into. You have the ultimate sex appeal, and getting attention from you is a total self esteem boost. Your confidence is contagious, and you help others unleash their own sexuality. Your sex pot seduction skills are so intoxicating that you can get away with... well, almost murder. Lovers feel like your sensuality is in your blood, so it's only natural if you flirt a little. And if you stray, that might be okay as well - as long as you make your lover still feel hot.

What Kind of Seducer Are You?

Bad Combination

Me
+
alone
+
hormonal
+
fucked up already
=
bad blog post

Oh, and I have no idea what I'm doing with PhotoShop.
And yes, this picture is very unflattering.
Nope, the new camera didn't show up.
Damn.

Getting closer

I've been tracking my online purchase and I'm thinking it might even arrive today! I rarely buy myself anything really nice, (which, in my case this is more than I would normally spend) so I hope that it's worth it. Anyone out there have this camera? Reviews?


So you know what that means! I'll be posting more pics soon. Of what, I do not know yet...

Not too surprised

Your Inner Child Is Scared

Like a kid, you tend to shy away from new experiences. You prefer what's tried and true - novelty is scary! New foods, new places, and new friends are difficult for you to deal with. Some say you're predictable, but you enjoy being comfortable.

How Is Your Inner Child?

I'm not normally big on taking quizzes, but this one kinda goes with the territory. Let me know what you get if you take it.
I'll be hiding under the covers.

The rain and the brain

Does anyone else get the sinus pressure headaches, especially when it rains? Barometric pressure and whatnot. Yesterday, the whole right side of my head hurt and was stuffed up, and now it's aching and stuffy on the left side.
So, a sort of related story. I was reading about a claim today in which the doctor made an incision in the right side of the patient's brain before he realized it was supposed to be the left side. I can just picture the surgeon in the operating room, though. "Now when you say left side, do you mean my left or his left?"

Skin Care

So, last night we were at Target (by the way, I found this blog dedicated to being obsessed with Target - how cool!) and I was seriously considering some new face care products. Yes, I realize this may be pretty boring to the guys out there, or anyone for that matter. Bear with me.

I've never had an actual facial. I write this and chuckle. Shut up, you know what I mean. Speaking of which, I am SO glad that the time my mom was over and we were looking for a picture on my guy's computer, she didn't ask what the folder titled "facial" was for. Heyyy-O!

Alright, out of the gutter. So it seems like lately the big hubub is all alpha-hydroxy this and microdermabrasion that. I am getting older, and I don't know where to start. Those microdermabrasion kits are kinda expensive and look like an Acuvibe for your face. They come with some exfoliating scrub and some sponge applicators that you put on the vibrator thingy and then go to town on your face. They claim to take about 10 years off. I saw a makeover show recently where someone had this professionally done, and it is really like they just sand off a layer of your face. It did give that person a nice healthy glow, but damn. Don't forget that I'm cheap. I already have lots of half used skin care products that didn't do much of what they said. Would it just be the same if I used some gritty face scrub and scrubbed really hard? Or if I just used some sandpaper? I'm not ruining a perfectly good vibrator with that stuff though.

Speaking of skincare, don't you love that commercial for ProActiv with Jessica Simpson? "In my videos, they had to go in and digitally *fix* my face" but it sounds like that quote was digitally *fixed*. And I love it when she does that pouty little girl look and says "my skin needed to be disciplined." Fuckin...Anyway.

Speaking of skincare and masturbation... At one of my old jobs, I had a couple crazy older ladies ask me how I took care of my skin. (Not even MaryKay reps either this time!) Uhh... I take birth control pills and use a gentle foaming cleanser? Well then one of them wanted to write down what products I use and what makeup I wear and all that. The other lady (on a separate occasion) told me that washing your face is the worst thing you can do for it. So she would just smear her face with vaseline instead. I didn't take her suggestion. She said another thing that was good to use is a Waterpik with really cold water blasting on your face. She then tells me the Waterpik is also good for personal pleasure when her husband's not around, wink wink. And yes, this was all at the drive-thru window. I was repeating this story later to my boyfriend and mixing up the details and told him "this old lady told me to masturbate with an icepik!" A look of horror came over his face and I realized what I had said. Oops.
Well anyway, I didn't buy one of those sanding kits. Sweet, tired, wanting-to-get-the-hell-out-of-Target boyfriend said "all you need to do to look 10 years younger is to smile" Aww.

Mom said a bad word!

When I was growing up, I never heard my mom swear. She was the type that would say in a moment of frustration "Oh, dang!" or "Geez!" and would even give us the evil eye if we said "Oh my GOD" as that was taking the Lord's name in vain, and we better not have dared to say "Goddamnit." She still holds a grudge against Eddie Murphy because she somehow saw a comedy special of his in the 80s where "every other word was the F-word".
So nowadays, I think it's hilarious to hear my mom swear. It's sort of like she tried to shelter me so much that I feel like sheltering her now, like she doesn't know that these words even exist. But she's come around quite a bit and will allow herself to occasionally say "shit" or "bitch" and has even been known (in rare circumstances) to drop the f-bomb - in a hushed voice of course.
Now my guy on the other hand, grew up in a family where swearing was okay. One of my favorite stories was about how when he was in elementary school, his mom got a call from the principal because her son had said "fuck". As it was more common at the time, they were going to give him some sort of corporal punishment. I don't know if it was with a paddle or what. But they called his mom first, who responded with "you're not going to lay a fucking finger on my kid!" and came to pick him up. Yay mom! Fuckin A!
Still, even now I cringe if he happens to swear or say anything inappropriate in front of my mom. His humor is great, I love it, and it's never anything directed at her or said in anger, but... I nearly died when he was telling her about the show Deadwood and how they say "cocksucker" all the time. The word cocksucker came up about 5 times in that conversation and led me to give him a fierce elbowing when she wasn't looking. But my mom laughed and everything, so maybe it's okay as long as he's saying it and not me. Maybe he's trying to test her. The other day she was commenting on a restaurant that was called BD's grill or something and she said she wondered what the BD stood for. He says "I'm guessing it's not bondage & discipline" which was funny but again, I wanted to be swallowed up into the ground. She laughed though. I guess now I'm the prude.

Bitter Restaurant Banter

How long are you willing to wait for a table at a restaurant?
Yeah, I guess it depends on how much you want to eat there, like if you know it's going to be awesome and worth it, I guess I can see waiting for it.
We don't live in that small of a town, but not that large of one either. It appears that we have a decent amount and variety of restaurants in the area. But trying to go out on a Friday night is ridiculous. No one takes reservations and everywhere is packed. But still, we were in good spirits and felt like going out.
So we tried for probably the 5th time in the last couple years to go to the stupid Outback Steakhouse. Every time we go, there's a helluva long wait, people are lined up outside and shit. We figured it must be pretty good, considering it's always packed. This time there was a 20 minute wait, and we found that reasonable. We sat at the bar and observed the hokey boomerangs and koala bears stapled to the walls. He got an overpriced beer. It probably ended up being about a half hour before they set off our little pager thing to let us know we had a table. Then we go up to the hostess stand and the two hostesses are doing nothing but singing along with the music and are like "oh yeah, you're table's being bussed it'll just be a few more minutes" which is sort of like, why did you call us up here then, bitches? But anyways. They finally take us to one of those crap tables that has an uncomfortable chair on one side and a backless bench on the other. Fine. We're both quite hungry and start perusing our menus. After just a minute, he looks at me and says "I don't know about you, but I don't think I want to eat here." I figure he's overreacting, and we can find something but when I look at it - he's right. There are some really lame ass choices and WAY overpriced for what you get. Your choices are a steak for $12.99, a different steak for $15.99, another steak for $17.99 and some other lame crap like fettucine alfredo disguised under some aussie name. Wow, how authentico! No sandwich options either, all overpriced entrees. Yeah, we might sound cheap and in some ways we are, but you just get the sense of how much chain restaurant food is really worth and can't bring yourself to pay that much for food you could make better yourself and not have to be in a craptacular environment. So he finished his beer and we told the waiter we were leaving. He didn't seem surprised at all like this must happen a lot. I guess it just wasn't meant to be.
Unfortunately, we went to 2 other restaurants that had 35-45 minute waits before finally going somewhere that we could actually get a table.
I don't even expect that much out of restaurants, but damnit, there's another one to cross off the list!

Overanalyzing a fortune cookie

Our most recent chinese food experience left us with this fortune to ponder:

You have tasted the bitterness as well as the sweetness of coffee

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but this doesn't really even qualify as a fortune, now does it? I am not enlightened. It has not predicted or suggested anything. It's just like "yep, here's a random statement".
It's not even any better if you attach "in bed" to the end. It would be more deep and vague if they just left off the "of coffee" don't you think?
This makes me wonder if perhaps the guy making up the fortunes was having a rough morning reaching his quota. Not much sleep the night before, boss was on his ass to make a deadline. Maybe someone came up and asked if they could get him anything, and he said "a cup of coffee" and then later realized "oh shit... not again! I gotta start proofreading these damn things! No more talking while typing for me!"

Or are they saying there was bittersweet coffee in our chinese food?

Retro-pervy

Here's a song that I remember from the 80s and always liked, but if you listen to the lyrics it sounds like a pervy old man trying to get some hot teenage poontang... at least he's trying to be romantic about it though. I can understand it and all, it just makes me wonder where all the sugar daddies were when I was 16? Oh, I'm kidding.

"Into the Night (If I Could Fly)" Benny Mardones
She's just sixteen years old
Leave her alone, they say
Separated by fools
Who don't know what love is yet
But I want you to know
If I could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
And show you a love
Like you've never seen, ever seen

It's like having a dream
Where nobody has a heart
It's like having it all
And watching it fall apart
And I would wait till the end
Of time for you
And do it again, it's true
I can't measure my love
There's nothing to compare it to
But I want you to know
If I could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
And show you a love
Like you've never seen, ever seen...

A "Blog-Con" in my mind

What if we had some big blogger convention? I know, I'm a dork. I can just picture us all in some big convention center with our little "Hi, my name is" stickers on, with our blogger profile names. So I'd be like "Oh, look over there! It's SayUnderpants, awesome!" and she'd be like "but I have a real name, and you already know it" but I'd still want to call people by their blogger names. I'd try to hug all of you people that I read and comment back and forth with because I love you in a non-creepy way! It would be so cool. Or I would just be a wallflower, I don't know. I hope you'd talk to me...
I'd find out where Dave and Dwight were hanging out cause that's where the laughter and goodies would be. Yossarian would be nowhere to be found and people would be asking about him. "Oh, I thought I saw him with XTX... no maybe he's with Blush... no, maybe they're all together and they didn't invite the rest of us!" Damn!
And of course I'd want to hang out with Lovely Lisa who I'm probably closest in geographical location to, plus we could giggle and talk about boys and music and stuff.
There would be plenty of booze and smoke and snacks and music and all that good stuff. But then maybe we wouldn't want to blog about it afterward because the mystery would be revealed and it wouldn't be the same. Then again it's just a crazy idea that I am imagining because I don't have a lot of friends in real life. Don't worry, I'm not a stalker, just a dork.

But yeah, it would be sweet. Mingle! Make awkward comments! Talk amongst yourselves!

*if I didn't mention your blog, don't be offended - it's not that I don't think you're wonderful too, it's just I either don't know you as well, I don't know what to say, or I'm trying not to embarrass myself further...

ill communication

I'm a procrastinator. I don't know exactly how long I've been like this, but somewhere along the line it got out of hand. And of course, instead of really doing something about it, I'm going to blog about it!

But, do you know how it is? When you haven't talked to someone in sooo long and you just don't know where to start? Are they going to be happy to hear from you or is it too late to make up for lost time? They're still there in your mind, you think about them quite a bit more than they think you do. You want to call, you want to write, but... you just put it off a little longer.

With me, this usually refers to family members. I know, staying in touch with the family is a good and responsible thing to do. Our family has a bit of a problem with communication though. I think that can be okay, as long as everyone accepts it. Like some families I know don't spend a lot of time on the phone with each other and only see each other every few months, but everyone's okay with that. In my case, it pisses people off and hurts their feelings. But you don't know my family! My older brothers have been known to take off without a trace for months at a time, but it's not okay for me. It's too much to explain here, but we're big on the guilt trips and not coming out and expressing our feelings. So, for example if my brothers and I haven't talked for a while, my mom starts nagging me to call them or my dad tries getting them to call me or write me. (For the record, I was almost always the one to take the lead in communication with my brothers, eventually I just got tired of it.)My mom will bug me about talking to my dad on a regular basis, and my dad in turn tells me to spend more time with my mom - even though these two have been divorced for nearly 20 years! They mean well, most of the time.

Sometimes I still find myself avoiding them. As awful as it is, and as guilty as it makes me feel, I know I should just let it go and call. The damn Catholic guilt gets me. I know there are a lot of dysfunctional families worse than mine and I should be grateful that they do want to keep in touch with me, and that I even have parents. But sometimes there's really nothing going on in my life that I care to tell them about. Things that make me happy do not usually make them happy for me. They also have heard for years about my depression and anxiety and while they try to understand, they still make me feel at times like it's my fault and I should just brush it off. I still get preached to and given strong suggestions and comments that make me feel as if they are terribly disappointed in me, although I'm really doing better than I had been over the last few years. It's still not what they wanted, and it's never enough. So why would I want to walk right into that situation if I don't have to?

I know, I've gotta stop being a coward and just deal with it. I've got to speak up for myself instead of taking all the hurt and shame and anger upon myself. So umm, maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

Memories from a childhood picture

1. The dining room and part of the kitchen had that "trippy if you stare at it too long" wallpaper pattern. I think it's called houndstooth. That's one of those words that usually refers to a pattern on clothing, yet it just doesn't sound quite right. Like herringbone.
   
2. Look at that! A double decker cage, pretty pimped out in there with that wheel and.... umm.... a tube, and... well, what more do they need? Those were my brother's gerbils, named Bernard & Bianca. Let's not talk about Bernard's demise. Let's not.
   
3. I know you're jealous of my badass pink velour pantsuit.
   
4. Dad's record cabinet, a few that I remember are The Beatles' first album, The Rolling Stones first album, Donovan, The Ventures and The Four Seasons.
   
5. Back in the day, you'd be in big trouble if you messed with the record player.
6. It's hard to see, but that's our infamous green shag carpet, which covered a good portion of the house. This was the kind of shag carpet that requires a carpet rake. Seriously, a carpet rake. Fluff it up for company, you know.

Bahhhh Tuesday

I don't know about today. Maybe it's the back to work after a long weekend blues. Maybe it's that I didn't get much sleep last night. Maybe I just want to laze about some more while not dealing with real life. I feel like I'm on the verge of a very bad mood. That doesn't do anyone any good, so I better just snap out of it!
I'm a brunette now. I don't know if it suits me, but I just wanted to take a break from my usual red. Brown always looks too dark at first, but hopefully it's not too freaky. My guy did a very nice job as he always does. He makes sure he gets it even, doesn't drip it in my eyes and is careful about not pulling too much. Very sweet and patient. I hope he knows how much I appreciate it.
I'm trying to work on some posts, really! I feel bad for not keeping up with my writing, but then again you all don't need to be reading pages and pages of blah-de-blah like this. Sometimes I just don't have much to say that makes any sense. Bear with me, I'm cleaning out the cobwebs.

I won't even say it

Dreamweaver

Are you too into blogging if you dream about blogging and other bloggers?

It's just kinda funny cause I build you people up in my mind like you're celebrities - well, in the way that I try to imagine what you're like in real life but there's a very slim chance of really knowing. So you're almost at the same imaginary level. Well anyways, last night I had a dream that I met HemisphereDancer and he was so nice! Oh shush, we just talked! I think we were both heading down South to help rescue people. He didn't have an accent, I don't know if he really does but I was all talking like I was from the U.P. like "oh yaah, doncha know" even though I don't really talk like that unless I'm imitating someone. Anyways, it was pretty cool. There have been other dreams about more of you out there.... I will try to write something about them when they happen so you can be embarrassed too! Yay!

Two glass eyes

Today I was all like "heyyyy, I like that shirrrrt"
And he was all "yeah? aw, well it's good for going out in, but not good for work - glad I don't have to see any clients today"
And I was all "naw, it's cool, it's cool"
and he was all shaking his head
Then a couple hours later, I'm all "no really, I really like that shirt, man" and proceed to stare at the chest hair that is peeking out the top and he probably sees me staring cause I think I'm less obvious than I am
But is chest hair like something you're supposed to politely avert your eyes from?
Then I thought about what he must think of how I dress for work if he considered himself dressed down.
And then I felt bad.

And.... this story isn't even related to how this morning I thought I had a detached retina!
Crazy stuff.
Bad, bad eyes.

Everybody poops

My sinuses are burning. Get me out of here.
Have you experienced this? Maybe you're lucky enough that your office isn't located right across from the damn bathroom. I understand that when you gotta go, you gotta go, but damnit people! It's like you purposely wait to shit until you get to work! There's a pack of matches on the back of the toilet that someone keeps lighting when they're in there. Great, so then the place smells like shit on fire. I can only hope for some small explosion to occur. Then there's the air freshener. You notice that whatever air freshener is in the bathroom for an extended period of time, no matter how good it smelled at first - after multiple uses it becomes revolting? It's bad enough that the wildebeest craps in there 3 times a day, but if only it were easier to ignore. Even if I keep my office door closed, the smell comes blowing through the air vents. Permeating my lungs, my nostrils, my eyes. I had a perfectly good breakfast bar that I now do not want to eat. I will also note that the air freshener of choice in there is a spray that I swear is a combination of curry, original Listerine, old man aftershave and cloves. And you can just imagine how great that is combined with you know, crap.

Maybe I'll just...

A note to the FedEx guys...

A good way to start a conversation with the meek-looking girl at the front desk would be to not repeatedly comment "Aww, they left you here all alone" and "So you're here all by yourself right?" while getting closer and looking shifty.
Every time someone says that it makes me cringe.

Come to think of it, it's not just FedEx guys, it's also the phone company guys and door to door solicitors - can't forget them! The UPS guys are always very polite though. I'm tight with the mailman too, he's cool.
I'm just a little paranoid.
Good thing I've got an itchy trigger finger and nothing to lose...
just kidding.

Marketing Madness

I had to mention the latest hair product I've tried - Herbal Essences Citrus Lift Let Loose Detangling Spray. I've been impressed with the results and yeah, it smells nice and citruslike...but that's not the point. I find their instuctions amusing.
Directions: Spray lusciously all over your damp or dry hair.
How do you spray lusciously? I mean, I try to be as luscious with the spray as possible, but what am I supposed to do, make the "O" face? Also note that your bathroom floor will become lusciously smooth as well, as in slippery as fuck! Be careful!

Can't Hang

Have you heard this song yet? I mean, it's been out for a while now. But if you can appreciate rap parody humor and iTunes, please check it out. You know Dr. Dre must've laughed his ass off, or at least I hope so. Plus, Ben Folds is some good stuff.

I think I need to drink more. Or just get better at drinking. I don't like beer, not just 'cause I'm a girly-girl but it gives me the shudders and makes my kidneys hurt. My drink has become a vodka & cranberry juice, sometimes with flavored vodka. The one I got the other night was cranberry juice with a shot of rubbing alcohol. And the waitress corrected me "oh, a vodka-cran?" yeah, that's a snazzy little abbreviation there lady. Kind of like when my mom made us crack up by saying "I'll have a glass of zin" because she's just so hip. I don't say that sarcastically, my mom goes out with her cool single friends more than I do. Gotta love it.

Anyways, unlike most people I know, I'm pretty much a wuss when it comes to drinking. BUT more than one person can vouch for the fact that in my prime, I was the shmoke-dawwwg. Roll up another doober! Puff puff pass! Oh, but that's not okay with a lot of people or you know, society. Back to the drinking. You would think that someone with a history of alcoholism in their family would be able to throw back a few and not even feel it, but I'm such a lightweight. I have so little knowledge with the subject too. So when I go out sometimes I forget that I'm way past legal drinking age. I'm the dork ordering a diet coke.

I wonder if alcohol just affects me differently than other people. Like I can feel this burning sensation running through the veins in my arms, then my arms feel really heavy. I think it depends on the kind of alcohol too. Sometimes I can feel it travelling through my body and it feels like poison, burning everything along it's path. It used to hurt my lower back, but that doesn't happen so much anymore. Maybe my liver is crap. Once in a while I get that hazy feeling that other people enjoy while drinking. I can get a little lovey-dovey but usually I'm just as shy as before. I can't pass things off as "oh, I just said that cause I was really wasted"...but I'd like to! I'd like to enjoy it and be carefree. My boyfriend and I have been together for over 5 years and he's still hoping to one day see me totally wasted. The closest we've gotten was one time when I said I'd drive us home in his car, and then proceeded to smash my face into the door frame as I was getting in. The impact was directly to my browbone and it hurt like a mofo. He thought I was just fucking around not unlocking the other door for him and came around to see why I was simultaneously crying and laughing like a maniac. I pulled my hand away from my eye and there was blood on my hand as well as running down my face. He was a little shocked and immediately went into his sweet helpful boyfriend mode. (As he has often had to do, since I can be slightly accident-prone). I looked in the mirror and laughed some more, getting blood and mascara in my eye. If that wasn't a sign from God that I shouldn't have been thinking about driving, I don't know what is! He sobered up quickly, found me some paper towel to put on my face and drove us home. I'm not that proud of that story but of course had to tell it many a time as my face healed.
But the really lame part? I had had ONE drink. ONE! Yes, it was on an empty stomach and yes they had given me the nice Grey Goose vodka, but still!
Then again, I am a clutz and could very well have done the same thing without any inebriation.

You know what August 24th means?

Go go go go....I'm a shortie and it's my birfday.

I've got the day off of work, which is pretty cool. There are things I need to accomplish though.

• sleep in (accomplished)
  
• have lunch with mom
• go to the secretary of state (or DMV as you may call it in your state) and give those fuckers way too much money to get my vehicle registration renewed
• prepare for upcoming apartment inspection (ie: hide unmentionables, clean up dirty dishes/laundry); get pissed that they even do this inspection shit every year
• blog/email
• become inebriated in one way or another
• ????
  

We'll see how I do!

I fear change...

Alright, so we're trying to quit smoking. By "we" I mean, my boyfriend hasn't had a smoke since Saturday, decided to get the patches and I'm very proud of him. Then there's me. Granted I didn't smoke as much to begin with, but I haven't completely quit. So I didn't really want to tell people like "Hey! Yay for me, I'm quitting smoking...pretty much" and have them tell me I suck and that doesn't count. But it's been on my mind, so I decided to share. I think I'm doing okay so far. I would normally smoke between 10-15 cigarettes a day and now I'm down to 4 or 5. I know I might be dragging this out longer, but then according to research it's better for women to quit at a certain time during their cycle, that I don't think I'm in right now. Shut up, it's true! I also haven't bought any more of my usual brand, so the smokes I do have are lighter and less enjoyable. So we're eating a lot of snacks, but getting out of the house more too. The bad thing is, I was big on snacks anyway. I'm a bad influence. I'm normally not one to think one should deprive themselves of things they enjoy. I'm an enabler. I do want to be supportive though, it's the right thing to do. He's handling it really well so far and hasn't gotten mad when I breakdown and go outside to smoke, but I feel guilty about it anyway.
We'll see how it goes. I do like the idea of having more money to spare, not having my hair get stinky, and all the medical reasons too. It's been 9 years and I've never REALLY tried to quit. I should have more faith in myself, cause even though I'm terribly easily addictable, there's also part of my personality that naturally wants to punish myself and deprive myself of things. Fucked up, I know - but it all works out I guess.

Nap dreams are lame

You know what happens when I take a nap with my contacts still on?
I usually wake up feeling like shit.
I have fucked up dreams. This afternoon's dream was that I somehow got to meet Adam Sessler of G4. I was all excited and jumped up to give him a hug. I was being complimentary and flirty almost. All up on him and stuff. He was quite gracious. Then I made the mistake of getting curious about his PSP (not a sexual innuendo - playstation portable) and he literally slapped my hand away. He said he couldn't risk getting my dirty little fingers on the screen and was a real dick about it. It made me sad and embarrassed. The end.
Oh, but back to the sleeping with my contacts in - does this happen to anyone else? I mean, I'll pass out with them on, and then when I wake up I'll feel dizzy and like I'm going to throw up. I also will not have a very restful nap. I wonder if somehow the contacts interfere with the REM and that's why I feel all shitty when I wake up. But I don't know. Just a thought.
Oh, and it also feels great to wake up feeling like there's bunched up plastic wrap stuck to your eyeballs. Or some old fruit roll-ups.
Yeah, I gotta stop passing out like that.

Kung Fu Hustle. Do it.

Yeah, we're not big on movie theaters so we got the DVD of "Kung Fu Hustle" yesterday. That's some crazy shit, maaan! It's all over the place! Still not sure if I like it better than the slightly more lighthearted "Shaolin Soccer" - but they're both good. If nothing else, it took my mind off things for a while. They totally got extra points with us for having a small part with this girl that was the Chinese version of Parker Posey.
Oh, and if you watch either of these, I'd strongly recommend the subtitles and not the dubbed versions.
I didn't do laundry last night, so I had a limited selection of things to wear today. I've got this short sleeved green and white striped, button down blouse on that makes me look like I could be the night manager at Long John Silver's. I'm a dork.
I'll try to think of something more to say. It seems as if writer's block is going around. I hope y'all know I love ya though.

It's everything, yet nothing really....

I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling.
Today I woke up, feeling okay. Just a little sleepy but no big complaints. The morning went by fast, I was chipper and got things done at work. I was even sociable with people. I felt like one of those girls that I usually don't like who's all perky and talkative. Things seemed good. I'm such a better person at those times. Like if I went home at that point, I would probably get a lot accomplished there too. I can get on a roll and not mind the cleaning or doing the laundry. I can keep myself busy. I can have conversations with people and they actually smile at me instead of looking confused. I can feel good about myself and the tiny accomplishments I make. I can laugh at things and not take them too seriously.

But then...a few hours later...

I don't know what happened. Really it wasn't anything important. Just a few little things that I will overanalyze and take as being negative. Suddenly I am back to being the biggest fucking loser around, I have no purpose on this earth, and people suck and don't understand. I suck at this job but will never find anything better. I want to crawl under my desk and cry, or if I'm at home - bury my head in a pillow and cry. People close to me will ask what's wrong, and really I don't know. I didn't think I looked like anything was wrong but my emotions are so obvious when you look at me. All I can think about is how fucked up I am and how I deserve to be punished for it. I didn't follow the right path and now I'm getting fucking old and I'm missing my "best years." I've been saying that I'm wasting my "best years" for years now. I deserve to suffer because I'm a little crybaby who still hasn't grown up. No one likes people who can't control their emotions. It's just something you're not supposed to tell other people. You don't want to be one of those people who drags everyone else down with them. Fuck, now I'm crying. See? This is ridiculous. It's not even PMS. I know the "regular" me is in there somewhere, I just can't reach her. I've worked so hard to get back to normal, but I still slip back into this. I just can't stop telling myself horrible things. I hate being this way. I avoid my family, or I avoid leaving the house because I just can't even face the world out there. I can't make myself smile. I don't want to try to explain it to the millionth person who doesn't get it. I'm as sick of being this way as they are sick of hearing about it. I feel like slamming my face into the mirror until it breaks. But really I won't. It will pass. I know it will. I shouldn't have even written this, but I had to get it out. I hope you'll understand that it's just a part of me and doesn't represent everything I am, or everything I could be.

Beavers and bad puns

Remember that beaver from some of the older Disney movies?


I think of him every time the older guy in the office next door comes around because I can hear that as he talks, he whistles through his teeth. So all I hear is "shhht" or "chttt" or you know, however you spell whistling through teeth sounds. He's a sweet old man though, just sometimes I'm not sure how "with it" he is.
He popped his head into my office this morning and said "Hi Jeshica, are you behaving yourshelf?" which was like, almost funny the first 6 times he's said that to me. I usually laugh and say "Oh, I'm trying..." or something like that.
Oh, I know he means well. It's just the slightest bit creepy. I think he wants me to say that I've been a BAD, BAD girl. Or he's just the silly grandpa type. Whatever. But before he left he gave me the eyebrow wiggle and says "Now you be a good girl for the resht of the shummer!"

But really, how much trouble can I get in jusht shitting here at my deshk?

SNAFU!

If you were one of the very few people who looked at this blog this morning and now it's all fucked up, I'm sorry. Maybe it was fucked up before and I just didn't know. I don't want you to see it this way! At home I use Firefox and everything looks all nice, but now I come to the office where we have Internet Explorer and I see that once again my layout is all wacky. It pisses me off. Such trivial things piss me off, I know. But anyways, I fucked around with some stuff and messed up my last post with the hot sexy guy pictures. I know you're probably not missing them, but I am, damnit! Will work on getting that fixed.
I totally had thought, oh yeah I'm learning this HTML shit, but turns out I know nothing!

Update: (11:38AM) Heh, heh - umm, I think it's okay now. I think it was that the template didn't like the use of so many italics in that story I wrote about the crazy magazine-selling girl. That's understandable.

Yay!

I need to stop doing image searches

What is it about the British guys that makes me squirm and involuntarily do kegel excercises?
I don't know, but I like it.
Sorry, I got a little excited there.
Sometimes I can be a real giggly girly-girl when I look at cute boys.
What a rip off, huh?
It's like, not even a real post.
Yes, that's right - it's for my own personal enjoyment.
How selfish.
No really, that's just all I came up with tonight.
Sorry bout that.
But I look at this page a lot, ya know?
So I might as well enjoy it.
You can too, if you want.

Oh no, she didn't!

Tell me, what's your definition of triflin'? I'm not sure if I'm even spelling it right. One of my old coworkers used to use it quite frequently. I just think it's kind of a funny word, although it's probably overused and I'm just a little slow.

I've heard it used as describing:

• someone who is unclean/nasty
• someone who is a cheater/sleeps around
  
• someone who uses people for money
  
• someone who's a manipulator
  
• someone who's all up in your business

Come on, use it in a sentence!

Here's what urban dictionary had to say.

Update: Oh, okay - perhaps I should've used it in a sentence myself. Here are examples of how I've heard it:

• "You should see how nasty her house is, and she don't even care - that's triflin'"
• "She's trying to holla at my man! That triflin-ass ho!"
• "He's triflin... living off his woman, ain't even trying to get a job."
  

Soliciting - Another story

So, I know you're all wondering "How did she end up with the aforementioned 3 year magazine subscription?" Okay, so you're not - but just humor me.
I was at home alone and there was a knock on the door. That's kind of rare, being in an apartment building where you usually have to buzz your company in. I looked out my little peephole and she looked like a normal enough college girl. Blond hair, sporty clothes, pierced eyebrow. Who knows, maybe she even lives here? She's just carrying a notebook and when I answer the door she gets all bubbly.
"Hieee! I'm new to the area, and trying to meet as many new people as possible! Would you say you're a friendly person?"
Well, I am... but now I'm giving her the "what the fuck is this all about" kind of look while only holding the door open far enough to peek out at her.
"Umm sure" I say, and her eyes crinkle up in a huge smile. She shakes my hand and says "See, making new friends is fun!!! I'm Jen, what's your name?"
I tell her. I'm wondering where this is going and in the back of my mind imagine that she's just doing some kind of sociology project for school.
"Hey, would you do me a HUGE favor? Would you just look through this list of magazines? Just tell me which ones you like. Just for fun! Don't even look at the prices, just tell me which ones you would choose if you could choose three! "
A-ha.
I humor her, even though I know I don't have to. We've got a no soliciting sign on the apartment complex - but gee, now that we're friends and all... yeah, I'm a sucker. I look through the little booklet of odd selections of magazines which don't include any that I would normally buy, but pick three anyway. After all, it's just for fun.
"Okay! Wow, great choices! Now, I'm going to need to write something down, could I use your table there?"
That seems a little forward. I know. Don't let strangers in. But I did because I just can't say no, and she made herself comfortable. She wrote for a while like she was drawing up some sort of price quote on these magazines."Ohhh, is that your cat? Hi kitty!!!" Our cat comes up, gives her a sniff and runs in the opposite direction. Good thinking, kitty.
"Were you watching a movie?" she asks, looking at the tv. "What were you watching?" Thank God it wasn't anything too embarrassing but still, I'm kind of like damn, woman - none of your business! She proceeds to tell me what actors she likes and what movies she's recently seen. I play along with the chit-chat and light up a smoke.
"Ohhh, could I have one of those? I forgot mine!" Sure. Whatever. "Thank you SO MUCH....can I ask you for one more thing? Could I trouble you for a glass of ice water?"
Good Lord. Is this some sort of trick, and when I turn around she's gonna rob me or something? I get her a glass of water while making sure I'm facing in her direction.
"Some other people I work with have been offered beer when they've been selling magazines. They're so lucky! That never happens to me!" she says, looking at me sort of expectantly.
Heh. heh. I give her a weird look and vaguely respond "Yeah, I've heard of that happening with pizza delivery drivers..."
"Oh my God, really? They got offered beer?"
"Well, I think one of my friends actually got offered a joint."
"Oh! That is SO cool, I wish someone would offer me one, ya know? What pizza place was that?"
Guhhh. How long until I get this girl out of here? Even if I had any, I'm not letting some stranger into my stash. What the hell?
Yeah. So you would think at this point, I've been quite a gracious host. I don't owe this girl anything. Then she tells me about the trip she could get to go on if she sells enough magazines.(Ask me about the trip!I'd take you with me if I could, hahaha!) If I pay with cash, she gets more points than if it's with a check or credit card. Of course.
Now I know you're thinking this is incredibly stupid and why haven't I pushed her out yet? I don't know. Was feeling nice I guess, and I had just been paid. Plus, it was only like $30 for a 3 year subscription. That's 36 issues! I even gave her the money in cash and sent her on her way. I felt horribly gullible afterwards. Other people told me about how these magazine salespeople are a bunch of wandering gypsies, that pocket whatever money you give them.
So, that's how I got 3 whole freakin years of Spin - I was quite surprised that I even got them. I guess there's no "moral of the story" here, it was just a very odd experience that I thought I'd share. So now I've wasted your time, but hey - at least I haven't tried to sell you anything!

No Soliciting

Is it just me, or does it really suck when someone's all complimentary to you and making you feel all special, and then it turns out they're just trying to sell you something?

Okay, so sometimes I can be naive. I don't think I'm the only one that's a sucker for a compliment, though. I suppose they see that. It's not that I look like something special or look like I have money, it's that I look like a sucker.
I'm still in the midst of a 3 year magazine subscription to Spin, but be proud of me - I did not buy any imitation designer fragrances today! Even though he was a cute and friendly asian guy who chatted with me for a while. I've mentioned it before, sometimes it's hard to say no , but damn it - I have to stop being such a pushover sometimes. It's not that I don't realize what's happening. It's just thoroughly ingrained in me to be polite and gracious or something.

What really gets me is those Mary Kay ladies. They've got a good act going. Even their cars are now more nondescript so as to sneak up on the consumer. It's just like using some tired old pick-up line, someone's bound to fall for it. They'll sneak up on you when you least expect it, just going about your business. A couple of them were customers at the drycleaners, that's cheap! I have to wait on you and be courteous so it's a perfect opportunity. One MK lady said "Let me get a good look at you" and stared at me long enough to make me a bit uncomfortable, and said "Can I just tell you, hun, that your haircolor goes very nice with your complexion?" So I'm all embarrassed and like "ohh, thank you." Then she tells me I do a nice job with my makeup, and just out of curiosity what kind do I use? You've heard of Mary Kay right? She pulls out her card with the little lipstick bubble sample thing. "You should call me! I want you to be my model at one of our parties. Oh yeah, hun - you've got the face that I want to use." Ughh. That's when the smile just kinda fades away. Oh yeah. A makeover party. Great. Let's call everyone I know so they can see how bad I look before I let this MK lady at my face. Fuck that. But then I feel all bad like I can't say no, so I just have to avoid her the next 5 times she comes by looking for me.

It's just... come on, now. We live in a college town where there's lots of perky college girls who all look the same and have a face like a blank canvas. They're a dime a dozen and are sure to be much better choices. Why do they mess with me? I'm weird looking. Maybe it's out of pity and I look like a good "before" picture. I had another MK girl pull up to the drive thru window and just kept looking me up and down. I thought she was totally checking me out. I was blushing. She was close to my age, and looked normal enough. Cute even. She was all whispery like "ooohh, you've got very pretty eyes" and stepping out of her car to slip me her card. I saw it and I'm like damn, foiled again! Pulling out all the stops, aren't you ladies? No, I don't want to go to your party either.
I'm sure it's nothing to anyone else. It's just that, depending on how insecure I'm feeling that day, it just comes across like a twisted mean joke. I thought I was getting a sincere compliment just for the sake of being nice. But it's more like, let's make that mousy looking girl believe that she's pretty and then tell her the only way to look this good is with our makeup. She'll totally fall for it!
Yeah, I know - I'm too sensitive. Oh, and also cheap.

Otters get crazy with the cuteness

Bad salad

Can rusty lettuce make you sick?

I don't know, but I'm not eating that shit.

That's what I get for choosing a salad from a fast-food establishment....
but hell if I'm going to go take it back.

20 random quirks

Some stuff that you may not know about me, didn't want to know, or were afraid to ask...

1. I have a thing for sideburns. (On a man, and within reason)
2. I don't like feet. In general.
3. I'm really short. (5'2")
4. I went through the following music phases: techno; rap; grunge; industrial; punk; pop; classic rock; ambient, etc. Now I just listen to what I like, no matter what category it's in.
5. My first real job was at a used CD store.
6. I still have raging hormones. This can be good and bad.
7. I'm a bargain shopper.
8. I am not as "domestic" as I'd like to be.
9. My ass is on the internet.
10. I enjoy reading sexy stories. Not the typical romance novels that your mom reads, though.
11. Years ago, I had a very bad mushroom trip.
12. Dogs and kids seem to like me, but I've never had either.
13. I have no tatooes or piercings (other than standard ear piercing).
14. I have an acute sense of smell. Sometimes I wish I didn't.
15. I'm somewhat of a homebody (this is probably obvious).
16. I try to color-coordinate my undergarments with my clothing each day.
17. I find both men and women attractive.
18. I develop crushes on people easily.
19. I used to love to sing and dance.
20. I have a hard time making decisions.

The little things mean a lot

Check it.
I always seem to be missing the boat. I discover something that I think is cool, long after it's either been played out or is already gone. That totally sucks. Take the Ali G show for instance, is it over for good? Is everyone else sick of it? They don't even rerun it on HBO anymore. It was some funny shit, people! What about Dr. Katz on Comedy Central? Alright, well I watched that while it was actually being aired, but still it sucks that it's gone.

Going back even further, I became intrigued with the freakiness of Twin Peaks about 10 years too late and had to watch all the episodes on shitty VHS tapes that the guy at the video store was nice enough to loan me from his personal collection. Everyone else already knew the mystery of who killed Laura Palmer. Damn! Where was I? Oh yeah, probably wasn't allowed to watch it yet. That's probably a good thing. It tripped me out enough in later years.

Coming in too late in the game also applies to the blogging world. There have been quite a few blogs that I've discovered but haven't bothered linking to, because these people haven't written since 2004. Maybe we could've been friends. It's always the people that I had something in common with that disappear. Maybe they would've been the whip-shit, but it's too late now. That makes me sad. But like, I think it's one of these days where everything makes me sad. I get the feeling people don't like it when I write about being sad. But I never know what posts are going to go over well. I forgot that I was supposed to just write in here like it was my diary. I forgot that I don't need to censor myself. You bloggers and blog-lurkers mean too much to me. I just can't imagine what you think, so I gotta stop worrying about it. You brighten my day and I wish I could give more back to you. I want to know you better, but not in the creepy stalker kind of way. And sometimes I think that's how I come across but really, I mean well. Sometimes I just can't find the right words.

I'm not staring!

So we were having dinner on the patio at a restaurant the other day. I personally am not a big fan of the dining al fresco but it was tolerable. As I may have mentioned before, sometimes I don't know what it is, but I catch myself staring at people. So there's this guy at the table behind us, he's slightly obnoxious and not bad looking but that's not the point. My eyes get drawn to his crotch. I look away. I'm so rude! But what is that? There's something in his lap area. I look again. EEK! I think I see a big gnarly nutsack hanging out of his shorts. Ughh. It's all big and mishapen. I look away. That can't be. Good Lord, what if my mom turns around? I've got to sneak another peek. I look back and it could just be he's just holding his hand in a weird way on his lap. Then it moves as he's talking and I see it is a hand but there are only two fingers on it. Well now I have to look away. Cause that's just rude to stare at a guy who's missing some fingers. He could've been very insulted by my staring. Then I would've had to tell him that my eyes are bad and I thought his gimpy hand was a deformed nutsack hanging out of his shorts. I wonder if he's ever heard that one before. Yeah, I don't think that would make things any better. So I shifted my gaze, but then I felt his eyes on me. I peeked and saw he had a slight smile and was sitting with his legs further apart, facing in my direction. I really need to stop staring at people's crotches....

Gettin hot

So hot. The air is so thick. Scantily-clad people everywhere. Men with deep tans and makeshift sleeveless shirts. Or bare chested. Going commando in some thin shorts. Showing off their tatts. Ladies with the sundresses and no need for undergarments. Getting perky when they come indoors. Smooth skin begging to be touched. The joggers with their firm summer asses. Hot pants that barely cover the cheeks. The mussed-up hairdos. The smell of suntan lotion. Sweaty people inhaling each other's pheromones. The hungry stares. The incoherent attempts at flirting. The need to hook up. The urge to get freaky. The longing for a summer fling.

Oh, to be young again....

Back up offa me

Work (and other shit) has seriously interfered with my (blogging) activities today. I guess I'd just rather be surfin the blog world than face the reality of my life right now. Not that it matters. Yeah, I know that sounds unhealthy. Shut up!

The boss going on vacation should always be a good thing, not a "thanks a lot for leaving me with all this shit you didn't explain but will be pissed if it doesn't get done" kind of thing. Eh, but that's how it goes. I'll manage to kick ass while he's gone. Hopefully.

Oh, and the pressure from my family. That helps! I love them, I really do. I just can't deal with the guilt trips right now. If I didn't care, it wouldn't work on me. But damnit, I'm a grown woman! I forget that at times.

Wonderful. It's Friday, it's beautiful out - and now I have a headache and feel the vomit rising to my throat. Lovely way to start a weekend.

"Show 'em your mean face"

Halfway there

Yeah, that's right. I'm back to work and I'm just so healthy I can't stand it. That's why I just went to the gas station for lunch. I got a diet Sprite, a "snack size" turkey sandwich and a pack of Camel Lights. Wow, I know. But at least it wasn't the usual burger or HotPocket. Everyone gives me shit for liking the HotPockets. What? Meat, cheese, occasionally a vegetable, all in a crispy flaky crust? How can you go wrong? Well okay, you could get the philly steak & cheese or the pizza kind - my least favorite selections. My boss called them my PalmPockets once, and I had to give him shit for that.
If I could just maybe change one of my bad habits maybe I would be a better person. Like eating crap wouldn't be so bad if I drank lots of water. Or didn't smoke. But for now... well I guess I'm just not too good at depriving myself of things.

Anyways, as I was out I saw one of those personalized license plates that doesn't fit the vehicle. It said BONJOVI but was on what looked like a somewhat new and shiny beige Dodge Grand Caravan. I guess it "doesn't make a difference if we make it or not," but if we do we're getting that license plate we've always wanted!

This family knows how to rock!

But here's a license plate that really goes with the car/owner. I've seen this around town several times, but haven't gotten a glimpse of the owner. It's a nice shiny Lexus SUV of some sort, I'm assuming it's brand new or just stays meticulously clean and has tinted windows. It was parked, so fittingly, in front of the "aesthetic surgery" office. The license plate?

X WIFE.

Too perfect.

Naughty Humor

While I'm working on something of my own to post, I thought you might enjoy this little rant from an older issue of The Onion, or perhaps you'll be horribly offended....but come on, it's written so eloquently!

A Gentleman Never Discloses Who Sucked Him Off


By Charles Dubno

"I must say, the quality of discourse in this country has taken a sharp plunge of late, not only among the ruffians and ne'er-do-wells from whom one expects coarse speech, but among gentlemen of letters and esteem. I have, with my own ears, several times in the past week, heard the elder sons of prominent families introduce into mixed company subjects formerly reserved for private discussion among gentlemen. It pains me even to raise this point, but following a string of recent events, there is no question that the adage bears repeating: A gentleman ought never to disclose who sucked him off.

This needn't mean a gentleman must limit the discussion of his exploits to his journal. If a gentleman has met a young lady and taken her to his digs, it is his right and privilege to tell his friends and coworkers about the encounter. However, it is the mark of a true gentleman to omit his lady friend's name from the discussion of her pussy's tightness.

Why, I had assumed that this custom and others like it were universal and well understood, but as long as I am spelling out the Rules of the Gentleman, allow me to introduce several other equally important but oft-neglected guidelines.

Should a gentleman find himself alone with a lady, he should not simply undo his pants and come in her hole. A gentleman knows that it is good manners to coax his lady friend's heels as far above her head as they will go, to "split the reed," and perhaps to turn his lady over and give it to her "doggy style." A gentleman knows that a true lady enjoys a moderate amount of hair-pulling and ass-grabbing, taking these attentions as marks of affection and virility. However, a gentleman knows where to draw the line. He never lodges his lady friend's head between the couch cushions.

A gentleman occasionally will have more than one guest at his home. Should he see that jealousy is breeding between the two ladies whom he is hosting, a gentleman does not say, "Whoa, ladies, there's enough of me to go around!" The gentleman, valuing decorum and discretion above all else in his paramours, gently guides his guests' heads from his penis and informs them that if they do not act like ladies, he will have to ask them both to leave.

When up to his nuts in a lady's guts, a gentleman knows that it is quite impolite to smoke, talk politics, or take phone calls. Should his cell phone ring, the gentleman says, "Excuse me, I need to take this." He withdraws his penis from his lady friend and keeps his phone conversation brief. When he has completed his call, a gentleman gently reinserts his dick into his lady.

Of course, a gentleman who is not a smoker keeps an ashtray on his balcony for his lady friends who wish to smoke.

It should go without saying that, once he has arranged for a paid lady of the night to meet him at his home, a gentleman does not jerk off several times while awaiting her arrival, in order to "get his money's worth."

A gentleman knows that accidents happen. While it is an unfortunate and boorish behavior that should be kept to a minimum, a gentleman always apologizes to a lady after he mistakenly shoots his load inside of her.

A gentleman never comes in a lady's eyes.

While he knows that a lady gets pleasure out of pleasuring him, and he will occasionally increase the intensity of that pleasure by gentle force, a gentleman will never choke a woman on his cock.

If a gentleman wishes to attend to a lady's pleasure through oral manipulation, no matter what the state of affairs below, he always politely completes his task. A gentleman ought never to fan his hand in the air, grimace and make a show of removing a pubic hair from his teeth, or compare his lady friend's vulva to two strips of partially grilled fajita meat.

A gentleman knows that it is considered good manners to have an unopened toothbrush on hand for his lady friend, in the event that she should like to freshen up after eating his ass.

Breeding needn't amount to priggishness. On the contrary, a gentleman knows that good old-fashioned manners will likely increase his social engagements, once word gets out that he is not one to splooge and tell. But I beg the reader, for the sake of tradition and all that is decent, to remember that a true gentleman does not ever, under any circumstances, go ass to mouth."

Honk if you're horny!

I am horrible...
Yeah, I know - ducks don't honk, they quack but whatever.

Dang ol' dang!

I've resorted to this redneck humor! What's become of me? Ack! Guess I needed a laugh. (These were forwarded by email, but original site credit is printed on the pictures.)


Redneck Cat Carrier

Redneck Port-A-Potty

Redneck Lottery Winner

Redneck Car Lock

Happy Birthday honey!

It's the 6th birthday we've spent together.
We've had our ups and downs in between,
but always more good times than bad.
He still makes me laugh so hard that my face hurts, just like when we first met.
He gets my weird sense of humor.
He calms my nervous thoughts.
He impresses me with his cooking skills.
And...
He even cuts the fatty bits off of my steak!

Here's to many more birthdays together.
I love you Justin!

Immaculate Misconceptions

Or "The beginning of my naughty mind"

I was raised Catholic and conservative. There were things we just didn't talk about. It wasn't til later in life that I realized how different and open other parents were, but you know - it was how things were and felt normal.
However, I was never afraid to ask my parents questions. Questions they wished I wouldn't ask!

"Mom, what's a flasher? How can a man have sex with another man - do they just rub their thingies together? Were you a virgin before dad?"
"Dad, what's a masochist? Will I ever have big boobies? When did you and mom first have sex?"
And it goes on like this. I have to give them some credit for trying to come up with answers for an 8-11 year old, or however old I was. Well, I had two older brothers and I would hear things but wouldn't get the whole story! I also would read any young adult books that I could get my hands on that might mention sex. I was curious!

But back before all that, I remember a conversation I had with my mom which shows just how misled I was, but then again I was probably only 6 or 7. We were riding in the car and something I heard on the radio must've sparked this discussion.

Me (in my best imitation of my mother's tsk-tsk voice, and shaking my head in disbelief): "Mom, isn't it just awful that these days, people think the only way to have a baby is to have sex?"
She couldn't help turning to me in surprise and while fighting back the laughter. "Jess, sex is the way people make babies"
I was horrified. "But you told me that you prayed to have me!"
Mom: "Well, I did. I prayed that we'd be blessed with a healthy little girl. But that's not all it takes."
Me: "So that means... you and Dad had sex?" (I said that like it was a crime. All I knew previously about sex was that it's bad and don't do it.)
Me: "But wait a minute, what about the Virgin Mary? Isn't that a true story?"
Mom: "Well, that's different. But... I'm not telling you more about sex until you're older. We weren't supposed to have this talk so soon."

So that was that. For a while. I found other ways of getting my information. But still it wasn't until 4th or 5th grade that I discovered that testicles existed. I knew what a penis was, but when they put a diagram of the male anatomy on the overhead projector, I was like "No one told me there was something else down there - eeek!"

Don't worry folks - I think I've got things figured out now.

On a lighter note...

If there are MILFs, are there also DILFs?

I don't hear that term as widely used, but it would only make sense!

MozStew

I'm not trying to talk politics, don't worry.
But come on, it's Morrissey and Jon Stewart, how cool is that? If only I could've found a picture of Jon Stewart wearing a Morrissey shirt...

Panic

I feel uneasy.
And yes, I'm listening to The Smiths.

The world seems like a depressing and scary place, and further invokes my sometimes irrational anxieties. I start thinking of death and my mind just can't stop this stream of awful thoughts. I feel my heart beating too rapidly, pressure behind my eyes, my stomach clenches up, I start shaking and feel an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and despair. I hate panic attacks. I can barely cope in my sheltered little world, how could I ever deal with what other people around the world have to deal with? I don't mean to sound selfish. I am very sensitive to the pain and suffering of other people. Sometimes I can't help but take it to heart.

So sick of the senseless fucking violence.

Let's get personal

This morning, I came across this site which I found quite amusing and had to share with Justin. An hour later, he sends me this email:

Hay Bayby,

Ur so HOT.Ur smokn. I wnt 2 rub ur bod allova 2nite.Pls right me bak cuz it wood be 2 kool!!!!11111! whut Abut me? I lik 2 git bizzy adn danse 4evar! I lik wamen whoe ar EZ, jst keddin!!! Whut ar ur entrists?? I has twokids adna dog. I lick my dog allot! Hes vary frenly and duznt smeal bad like my kids!

Ps>

I luv U vary muche! Du u luv 2 play mouthorgan!1?!?

I'm a sucker for a guy who can appreciate grammatical humor.

It's worth checking out whether you've had online dating experience or not. Most of what scares me is how incoherent these personal profiles are!

Please, take a moment and tell me your inermoist fillings.

Happy friggin Fourth of July, people!

How are you spending it?

I'm not feeling so good, so probably will be spending it here. Hissing at the neighbors.


Have fun!


* angry cat is from My Cat Hates You - I like her expression!

Power Outage Brings Loser Community Together

Forgive me, folks. I'm a bit tired this morning.

So last night. Woke up to people being loud and obnoxious in the parking lot. This happens all the time. Yes, it sucks living in an apartment and we need to move. But we're pretty much used to it and always sleep with a fan on anyway, which usually drowns out the noise. I wonder why the fan isn't on. Fuck. The power's out. It's extremely stuffy in the apartment anyway, and now no air is moving. Great. Now I can't sleep.
I can deal with the heat, but now the only noise is these getto-ass people talking so loud that it's echoing off the buildings. It's a fucking free-for-all out there, it's 2:30 in the morning and all I hear is incoherent drunken ramblings and laughing. I'm assuming these people couldn't sleep and came to the conclusion that they should drink any alcohol that might still be cold. In the parking lot. Naturally. I hear someone say the power has been out for two hours already. I call the energy company and report it to an automated system that tells me there is no power outage. I look out and sure enough, it's pitch black all around - even the streetlights are out. But someone has their headlights on so the people hanging out in front of the handicapped entrance can see. It's a getting to know each other session out there. Someone starts lighting bottle rockets (what's that - a distress call?) That's great. That really helps the situation. I'm thinking please don't let me hear anyone "hooking up" - guhhhh!
Then the best part is when our neighbor across the hall gets home at 3AM. She's got a very loud voice anyway and half the time she's yelling "Praise Jesus!" and the like, then the other half she's cussing someone out and slamming things around. So she gets home and her voice probably carries for miles around "We ain't got no powah? What kinda shit is that? Aww, hell naw! I can't even use my cordless phone? What the fuck? Mmmm hmm, that 's what I'm sayin - this is the muthafuckin suburban-ass projects right here"
Yes lady. It's the not having power that makes this the "suburban-ass projects." Not the fact that you and these other losers are out here yelling at 3 in the morning cause you don't have to work.
But anyways. Eventually we fell asleep and fortunately still woke up relatively on time, seeing as how the power is still out at this point. The energy company "estimates" that it will be back on this afternoon. When I left for work this morning, I felt like yelling "Enjoy sleeping in you fuckers! Thanks for keeping me up last night. I have to go to work now!" But whatever. I just slammed the door really hard. Next time I should call the cops, but I'm always reluctant to do that. If I had thought of it, we do have four boxes of pop-its (also called whipper-snappers) that we could've thrown out there last night or even better, this morning. Damn.

Oww - it hurts to blog!

I'm a bit klutzy.

In a rush to get back to my computer at work and away from the bad smell (?!) in the hallway, I slammed the backside of my hand right into the pointy edge of the desk. Ow! It poked my veins! But no bleeding, just what looks like a big red bump.
If it looks cool enough later, I'll probably take a picture of it. I like showing off my owees. Too bad I didn't take pictures of when I sprained my ankle and it was all swollen and many different colors! Oh, there have been so many injuries I haven't documented, what a shame.

But anyway. This one's not too bad. I'll keep working on new posts. Oh, and I guess I should do my actual "work" too.

Fun with South Park characters

We had a good weekend - much needed sleepytime!

Would you have guessed I've had plastic surgery?

What? Plastic surgery and she still looks like that? Ughhh - what did she look like before?

Well, it wasn't exactly cosmetic - it was necessary. On top of having bad teeth, my lower jaw stopped growing before my upper jaw - giving me the appearance of no chin or an overbite. My mom had the same problem, but in her time the orthodontists just shoved your top teeth back as much as they could to try to get them to line up. But for me, they really thought the only way to correct the problem and have my teeth fit together right would be this surgery.
So at 15 years old, already self-conscious and geeky I figured this could be a good thing. Then the orthodontist referred us to an oral surgeon for a consultation. After scaring the crap out of me with pictures and details of this surgery ("first we break your jaw, then we pull it forward and fill in the space with bone-like plastic...") I was starting to think I'd just go on being chinless. The surgeon then showed me the before and after pictures of people like me who had the surgery, and they did look a lot better, and there were no visible scars. I was starting to lighten up to the idea...
But then he said this.

"I think this surgery is going to really give you a nice profile. And if you decided to get a nose job too, you'd be a real pretty girl."

I was devastated. I think my mom bitched him out. I don't know, I was too busy crying! What an asshole. Anyways, I did have the surgery and it actually wasn't so bad. Being hooked up to a machine with morphine on demand seemed pretty cool. Except it made me nauseous. And having my head wrapped in gauze padding for a couple days wasn't cool. And not being able to eat solid food for a month and a half wasn't too cool either. At least they didn't wire my jaws shut. I had braces at the time so they just put these really tight rubber bands on. I remember my boyfriend at the time and I were pretty excited when I was all healed up and could take the rubber bands off so we could french kiss again. Now my jaw doesn't pop out of place anymore but I do think it contributes to the tooth grinding. I like to call it my prosthetic jaw or my mechanical jaw that has a mind of it's own.
I obviously didn't have the rhinoplasty, but have learned to live with my nose. Fuck him, anyway!


lower mandible augmentation or something

I like these directions - dry rapidly and operate it conveniently (that's a product FEATURE) and NOTE: please take it far away a fire and don't put it on a hot pan...