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!

Son's Gonna Rise

• My brother and his girlfriend just welcomed a baby boy into this world. Now I have TWO nephews that I've never met... well, not yet. Meeting this one should be slightly easier than the other, considering this one lives 3 hours away instead of all the way across the world.

• The boss and his lady are expecting a baby, too. Lots of baby talk going on.

• Meanwhile, a mom I know is loaning her son the money for his share of his girlfriend's abortion. Everyone involved is mad and throwing the blame around. It was odd to hear her call PP and try to casually ask "Yeah, how much do your abortions cost?" kinda like "can I get a price check over here?" but I bet they are used to those calls and well, probably much worse.

• I've gotten to the point where I can imagine being pregnant someday and I can imagine having a sweet little baby in my arms. It's actually becoming more of a warm, hopeful feeling more than sheer terror. BUT the thing that scares me is that THEY GROW UP. And I just wouldn't want the kid to turn out like me. I guess that's what a lot of parents want, for their kids not to make the same mistakes they did. Then I'm worried that I'd either be overly sheltering or turn out with a spoiled brat and that I couldn't find the right balance. Or that I couldn't make a good life for my child, they'd resent me for it and we'd all be miserable. What if my maternal instincts didn't kick in and I was a horrible mother? What if my own faults and flaws rub off on the kid, scar them for life? How could I make my kid not as sensitive, nervous or depressed as his/her mother? Whose advice on parenting would I listen to? Or... or what if I can't even have kids at all by the time that it's time to try? Eeek!

Wit the seven, seven eleven...

Happy Buh-buh-buh Birfday, J!

I love you!

Gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack

I'm not in the mood.
Not in the mood for these harsh lights, for the mean humor, the incessant talking without listening. Just too tired and crabby to deal with it today. Biting my tongue.

Most likely we will have to move our office in the very near future. While I had a small amount of hope that we could be moving into something better, it's looking more like it will be much, much worse. I can understand my boss looking for a low price, but damn if he doesn't keep looking in the shittiest of areas. But what can I do? Sometimes you feel like you're only asked for your opinion by these control-freak types so they can feel better by reinforcing that your opinion doesn't really count. That everything you think of must completely suck and be absolutely without merit. Dude, I know it's not my money or my decision BUT I am the person who spends the most time at the office. I don't expect anything fancy - I just want to have somewhere to park and be in a reasonably safe place, that's all.

Over the fence

We've had our share of bunnies in the yard - but look what our neighbors get - baby buns! Apparently they've had bunny nests near their house every spring/summer for 5 consecutive years and the lil' bunners have always done alright (even though - I know, you're supposed to leave them alone). Their dog alerted them to it and seems to keep a protective watch over them. Maybe the mom-bunny and the dog have something worked out.

Awww.

Pistil-whipped

This flower says "hey you! come here! touch me! touch my junk! mmm, I know you want summa dis pollen, baby!"

Or you know, that's what I'd say. See, nature can be fun!

* Title is dedicated to Feral Mom with much respect and giggling.

Nothing fits

• I almost gave up my search for any kind of crop/capri pants given that they all clung to my womanly (or wide, if you wanna be a dick about it) hips in an unflattering manner or, considering my shortness - looked like I was just wearing some regular pants that slightly shrunk. Finally found a pair of capris that are acceptable. Gauchos are still out of the question.
  
• Manufacturers of women's clothing: I know there are standards for what you consider to be a certain size, aren't there? Wouldn't you think that making your clothing items a bit on the larger side instead of running small would make everyone happy? I don't feel like the size I am deserves the size that's on the label. Thanks for making me feel even fatter than I already do. Perhaps the A & F had a good idea - my cousin tells me she always buys their jeans because while she's normally a size 6, at their store she's a size 2. (Which really must be one of the few reasons people consider subjecting themselves to that place if they're not part of some teen girl squad.)
• Even Britney Spears' pregnant belly looks better than my non-pregnant one - at least on the Bazaar cover. That's sad.
• I wonder if I'll ever be pregnant. Not that I'm trying, I just wonder.
  
• I'm not feeling too good about myself lately. Bah.

The skunk over here will bring you luck

All this time, and I still don't have much for you. Ah, such is life. I even had an extended weekend and it just went by way too fast. Didn't get enough accomplished. We had company for most of it though. Cleaned up, grilled out, walked around, gamed on, slept in, ate out, laughed about, drank up, mulled over, settled down. You know how it goes.


* The title of this post comes from PaRappa the Rappa - a funny game (good for entertaining guests) that was beaten very quickly this weekend - leaving the music from it stuck in our heads ever since.

Should I leave well enough alone?

Hmm, I wanted to try something different - yet I fear change. I'm not sure about this new template, but we'll try it out even if it's just for today. There are some blogs out there that tend to make my eyes wander or hurt and I don't want that. Please let me know what you think.

Yeah I did

You know what sucks? Stumbling around naked in the morning when you should be getting ready for work, trying to find a battery with some juice left in it.

But when you do find that battery, it's sooo worth it.

Gone baptizin'

So there's this peculiar church that I pass by and often wonder about. It's a huge, newer building, but it doesn't really have that churchy look about it and plus - it's conveniently mall-adjacent, folks! The kind of church that doesn't necessarily tell you their denomination and when asked, their cult church members' eyes just get shifty and they say "oh you know, just uhh... Christian."

I like keeping an eye on their sign-board, but really I can't help but read all the church signs that I come across. I reported back to The Beef yesterday that it said something about cravings and midnight like "Satisfy those midnight cravings for Jesus!" or maybe it was "Can't sleep? Got a midnight craving for Jesus? Now we're open til 4AM!" (Cut to a commercial of a guy getting up from tossing and turning in bed, mumbling to himself "Can't sleep. Must evangelize.") What's next? A drive-thru with "Hot, fresh Christ to go"? Maybe they share the same marketing people as Taco Bell. And as The Beef has said before "I just don't know how I feel about a church so big that it has it's own parking attendants."

I dunno. Just seems a bit hokey to me, but to each their own.

Less scurvy, more curvy

It's been avocado madness up in dis mofo for quite some time now. And while avocadoes give me this pesky little allergic reaction that makes the roof of my mouth itch, I just can't deny their goodness.

11 freakin avocadoes + 1 gato!

dewdrops on the Lady's Mantle


some sort of marketing ploy

Not always, just sometimes

I just don't know. About anything.
It feels like everything lately is moving at a normal pace while I am in slow motion, never able to quite catch up to everyone else. There are births, birthdays, marriages, etc. People's lives are changing and I'm standing still, watching from the sidelines. It's not a sad thing, I just don't get why I feel this way now when I used to like to participate, at least somewhat. Or maybe I just wasn't given the option not to when I was younger. Now I just feel kinda numb. I feel so disconnected from my brothers and extended family and I know it's mostly my own fault. You can't just tell people that you love them but seeing them once or twice a year is enough. Not that I did say that, it's just something I remember from one of the "you've gotta stop being such a selfish bitch" speeches I've received over the years. The thing is, it does hurt sometimes but for the most part it feels more normal this way, with this distance. I know it's messed up, I'm just sayin.

Half-assed gardening done right

Ooh, a cheerful new flower that I haven't positively identified! Wouldn't ya know - the flowers and plants that are doing the best around here are those that were already planted (not by me) and that I have left alone to do their thing. Flowers that I've carefully chosen, planted, watered and fed vital nutrients have pretty much croaked. Go figure.

News anchor sandwich

I don't know if you all caught it last night, but none other than heartthrob Anderson Cooper was on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart! If you don't already know how I feel about these two, let me just say I'd like to be a part of that sandwich, har har har! No, Anderson - you're a piece of the bread, I get to be the bologna! Alright, alright we'll take turns.

I like it when AndCoo (do you think anyone calls him that?) laughs. I noticed this on the Colbert Report too (because honestly, I have little interest in the "real" news shows.) He gets even more squinty than usual and it's just aww, so cute. Now I think I'll take back the leash thing and just tickle him with a feather to watch him giggle and squirm. And okay, maybe tweak his nipples a bit. I mean, he'd be naked of course. I bet he smells good too.

And then there's your Jon Stewart. I've loved that man ever since The Jon Stewart show was on Fox (damn, I think that was like 10 years ago). So much that I don't know what I'd say to him, much less do to him. He must be a very, very busy man with a lot on his mind. Too busy for a blowjob, you think? Alright, then. We can see where this one's going...

But one more comment about last night's interview. As you may well know, AndCoo recently did his big interview with Angelina Jolie. He politely avoided talking about how "hot" she is, though Jon was giving him the opportunity. Hmm, there are a few ways people could look at this. 1) They could take that to mean that the rumors are true, he must be gay and in the closet. Or 2) He's too much of a gentleman and too shy to talk like that. Or my favorite, #3) Maybe he's just not into her and her buttlips after having to stare at them for hours. Bam! Yeah, I said it. I'm sorry, peeps - I can see why other people like her but she just doesn't do it for me.

And, I'm out.

It's lunch and it's personal

Hey. Oh, go ahead and ask me what I'm eating, I know you want to. Yes, it's a fucking HotPocket. Why is that funny? Yeah, well I'm sorry I didn't have a more civilized lunch to bring. Nope, now you don't get to ask what flavor it is. And by all means, do not come over here and lean in to get a better look. No. Yeah, I know it actually smells good. You know what happened one time when I let this lady do the lean in? She actually poked it. Poked my hotpocket with her questionable fingernail. And so? I didn't get to enjoy my hotpocket that day. Tainted hotpocket! Fuck if I'm gonna let that happen again. Go away. Just don't even look at me while I'm trying to eat my goddamn lunch at my desk. Just don't.

Soft Bulletin

This album brings me back. To a time when we had much less. To bitterly cold mornings of brushing layers upon layers of snow off of our cars out in the apartment parking lot. How sometimes a clump of snow would manage to slip down between my jacket and glove, stinging and melting on my wrist. And how in winter the car exhaust would hang stagnantly in the air, the smell clinging to our coats and our hair for hours afterward. I think of how you looked, just coming in from the cold. Pink flushed cheeks, glasses getting foggy, a dusting of snow turning to water droplets on your back. The way our cold lips would warm up against each other in a quick moment before it was time for us to head out to work. I'd be all worried about the roads and you'd always manage to comfort and encourage me, the way you do - like it's just second nature.
You kept me going, even when I didn't want to. And you know, you still do. I love you so damn much.

Casual craving

You know I'm composed of many good girl/bad girl layers right? It's a toss up which side of me you'll see depending on the situation. I will be bad and then I will feel bad for being bad because part of me wants to be good. Part. But I don't like it when people just assume I'm bad or good or whatever. It's all a matter of perspective I suppose.

I feel bad today. Not bad in the usual guilty, made-a-mistake kind of way. More in a rebellious, fiesty, don't-give-a-fuck, let's just do something crazy kind of way. What I want is a girl friend to be a good, bad influence on me right now. Someone who gets as cynical about the world but doesn't see it as drearily as I do. A somewhat girly-girl but not a prissy, high-maintenance girl. A girl that likes to take chances but isn't stupid in her risk-taking. Someone who needs me to be her more sensible counterpart. Okay, maybe just someone who needs me. Maybe. Because when you are a girl's special friend, it feels like some kind of honor like nothing else. To just be liked for who you are by another woman is a beautiful thing. It used to be me that was the "bad influence friend" but I don't think I play that role very well anymore. I want her to be the one that suggests we polish off this bottle of tequila together and I want her to be the one who doesn't care what they think and I want her to be the one who grabs my ass and suggests that we fool around with each other for a while. Yeah, I just said that. Now I feel bad.

Oh, and if that wasn't bad enough I almost forgot to include my "bad girl" thoughts yesterday about having Anderson Cooper naked and on a leash like a good boy. Crazy hormones.

20 points on why I should just go home today

(also posted at The List List)

1. I don't feel well (granted, I usually don't this time of day so that's not a huge stretch, but still...)
2. There are movies I need to watch and return to Netflix.
3. My cat needs me.
4. This place stifles my creative energy and makes me feel trapped in a cage.
5. The bed is at home, waiting for me.
6. It's been too long since I've pleasured myself. Seriously.
   
7. There are snacks at home.
8. There are piles upon piles of laundry to do (and really, laundry is better to do during the day, isn't it?)
9. There are bills to pay (oh, they don't get paid if I don't work? Shit.)
10. It's okay for me to be inebriated if I'm not here. Just sayin.
    
11. I forgot my lunch and no one can cover for me to go get one.
12. Alright... I just don't like the lunch that I brought, shutup.
13. Dude, I just need to be alone and think about stuff.
14. You wouldn't miss me.
15. Just look at these circles under my eyes!
16. I don't give you shit when you wanna go home (well, not to your face at least.)
17. I have no idea what's going on on daytime television these days.
18. Did I mention there are snacks at home? And beverages?
    
19. I need to clean the house and come on, I shouldn't have to do that "on my own time."
20. Look at this. Look at what this boredom has led me to!
    

Nice scarecrow, jackass

Filed under: flashbacks

The house I grew up in had a steep hill behind it which led to "the woods" which was mostly a dense, narrow band of pine trees stretching past several houses. Going up the hill would almost always guarantee that your shoes, socks and lower pantlegs would be covered by those annoying little sand burrs. If you've experienced them, you know how fun a task it is to pick them out of your clothes!
All I remember about the woods was that the boys would take the opportunity to pee on trees (just 'cause they could) and try unsuccesfully to get people to fall into this hole that they carefully covered with sticks and leaves like some sort of trap. And that one time my brother shot a crow and hung the corpse so it was swinging from one of the pine trees. It hung there for a long time, during a hot summer and of course decayed and was all gross and stuff. Not sure if that ever actually took care of a crow problem, or if there even was one. I know it really bothered me and my mom. I can't quite remember, but maybe my brother had gone to a redneck version of boyscouts or some shit.

Chirpin birdies

So, Old Lady Nervous bought a birdfeeder (and some fancy-shmancy birdfood, mind you) a couple weeks ago. This was partly an attempt to make a peace offering to the sweet little chickadees who would dee-dee-dee their heads off, guarding their house (shown here) whenever I was outside pulling weeds in their area. This was my way of saying "Hey, I'm cool with birds, it's all good. I'm not trying to eat your babies, so don't like freak out and eat them yourselves or anything." It also was to provide some entertainment (just by watching through the window) for the cat. And me.

For a little while, it seemed pretty quiet around there. I wondered if they weren't diggin on the seed. Then we started seeing a few wee little chickadees (and they're pretty wee anyway) hanging out at the feeder. I'm not positive that they're the same ones, but they're quite cute nonetheless. It took a little while, but now the word is out. It's a muhfuhkin bird partay over here! Peepidy-peep, y'all! There are SO many sparrows, and they've been eating the most. I'm thinking we'll eventually see them just waddle over to the feeder area with their round little bellies and call out "Ey! Can you just uh, whoo boy... (catching breath) just throw some seeds down for us? Bahhgahhk!"

I think I'm enjoying this bird-watching too much. I don't know what's cuter, the birds themselves or the way my cat flattens her ears and makes this very soft, sorta high pitched "cac-ca-ca" whenever they are near her window. Now we have attracted the chickadees, the sparrows, a mourning dove couple, a cardinal couple, some robins that just hang out to see what's going on but don't eat the seed, some chipmunks, a squirrel and Larry the grackle. Grackles have a bad reputation but he's interesting to watch. He mostly just looks for the peanuts in the seed mix and stares with his beady little eyes. I think he's just a misunderstood bachelor. He hasn't been jerky to the other birds, but they tend to all get pissed and leave when he arrives. Except for the male mourning dove. Mourning doves don't really give a shit and are cool. So it's a pretty happy little wildlife situation, especially combined with the occasional bunny. But I do like yelling out "Bird fight! Come one, come all. Grackle vs. Robin! Next round, the middle-weights: Mourning Dove vs. Cardinal! Make your bets. Who's it gonna be?" But um yeah. That's just me. I told you I'm weird.


Too much excitement for this little cat!

Psst! More pics of this cat and other terribly cute pets over at I Love Your Pets!

"I was saying boo-urns"

Man, people. I feel like a putz. This office could use one of those cliche posters that says "Hang in there, kitty" or something like that. Just because it would disturb the other people here and they'd have to debate whether or not to tell me it's too tacky. Instead there are just blank walls, which when combined with flourescent lighting can be quite depressing. Not that I'm complaining. This is the first job where I've ever had my own desk. So you know, it ain't all bad.

I'm just feeling kind of tired and lifeless. Sick of things. Stuffed up. I'm sorry I haven't had much to say to you all. I'm riding the ups and downs, sometimes it's a bit unpredictable so I'd rather keep my mouth shut. I don't carry myself like I used to, I don't like myself like I used to, and that's really what people notice I think. I know looks aren't everything, but it's more of the vibe you give off. You can be what one might not immediately consider "attractive" but it all depends on how you act and how you hold yourself, how people respond to you. I'm to the point where it's really more and more of a downer to look in the mirror. I was the same size for nearly 10 years, and now I'm a bit of a chub (to put it "lightly" - ha). If I told my mother how much I weighed and what pant sizes I'm trying on now, I'm sure she'd do her token mom-gasp and try to push her South Beach diet book on me. Not that she doesn't notice. Everyone notices, they're not even trying to pretend not to. Gughhh. My desired solution would be to just grow 2 or 3 inches taller - being short leaves me no room for this weight to properly distribute itself. But I know I need excercise, for several reasons in addition to weight loss. I'm too young to have crackling knees and ankles and to hobble when I get up in the morning. Yeah, not good.

Sorry I don't have much of anything too good to say. It's amazing though, how much better I feel and how much I turn into a different person when I can just get out of here and into the sunshine.

sweet peas vs. sweet feets

sweet peas ¹

sweet lil feets ²

¹ Both moms warned me about the sweet peas and continuously scolded "You've gotta pull these damn things out of your garden before they take over!" but I insisted we at least leave a few and let them bloom. They do have purty flowers at least. I guess they can get crazy-invasive and have these little viney strands that will grab and choke other plants, or maybe cross-breed with them if it suits their fancy (it had previously tried to get it on with the nearby bleeding-heart flowers). One of them grabbed a piece of my hair the other day, so we'll see what freaky hybrid comes of that.

² You mustn't touch!

Inside out

Emptiness. I feel it when I'm here alone and have time to think. Nagging, gnawing away at my insides. I know I shouldn't tell you all this. I will try to make friends and scare them away by my need to be liked. I want them to like us so badly, yet I'm unconcerned about how much I like them. I mean, I do - but it's easy for me to like people. I don't know if it's easy for me to be liked. People look at me different now. I can't tell if they're looking at all the flaws on the surface or if they can sense them inside. Do they like me? Did I smile enough? I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb, but in reality I'm probably highly forgettable. I'm afraid that if people do like me, it's only for the sole reason that I like them. That is their favorite quality about me, not that I have something to show for myself. But sometimes that is all I have to offer, how I can make other people feel.

There are these typical "normal" things that you are just supposed to do or have, and part of me resents that. Credit cards, a college degree, a purpose. A collection of shoes, an iPod, a personal trainer, a 401k. Riding your bike, rollerblading, going to concerts, going swimming, social gatherings - they all come naturally. Having a balance of time spent with your spouse, family and your wide range of friends. You go on vacations because that is what people just do, without worrying about how you could possibly afford it and how you would get there and if you'd be given time off and if you were, if it would be with pay. You don't worry about any of that. Everyone seems so... cut from the same cloth? And as for me? Cut from that leftover scrap of gauze over there.

I get this frantic feeling in my head that you'd only know if you've experienced it. I can only look at it logically when I'm not in the throes of it. I don't know whether to drink til I feel that poison in my veins, to smoke until it hurts to breathe, to cut, to cry, to throw dishes, to sit in a corner shaking, to lock myself in a room, to scream profanity, to run run run far away. I restrain myself. None of these ever seems like an option that could offer enough relief. Because you just can't turn it off. You just can't turn it off. And that is the advice you will get - because to everyone else it's so SIMPLE! Just turn it off! There you go, I fixed all your problems for you! Just don't be like... how you are! There, doesn't that feel better? It worked for us, so it must work for you! Aww, you're sad? Well, let me condescend to you and make you feel just a little bit smaller, piece by piece, take away a little more of that stubborn thinking of yours and then you will look up to me like some kind of savior who knows what's best for you.

I know that most likely by the end of the day I won't feel like this anymore. I didn't even know when I began that I'd say all of that. I wish I could say that was it and that I feel better now.