"Get a leg up on the pile"

We've outgrown this place. Almost every day there's a reminder that we don't belong here, and it's just getting worse and worse. I'm hoping a change of scenery will also improve my general mood and way of life. I can't get my hopes up too much and jinx it, but it would be amazing if we ended up in a HOUSE in the very near future. I'm just imagining the things we'd say to each other, that you just don't hear until you're a homeowner, like:

"I think it's in the garage"
or
"I'll just do this load of laundry while we're waiting"
or
"I'm down here, in the basement!"
or
"Sure, you can stay with us, we've got room at our house"
or
"How are we gonna make our fucking mortgage payment this month?"

You know, stuff like that. Would we become like the people we work with, who look forward to the weekends solely to complete a DIY project? Would we say stuff like "equity" and "interest rates" and "Home Depot"? Eeeek! We'd almost sound like grown ups!

Check out this reference to mortgages on homestarrunner.com!

big meanies

Sometimes people say or write shit that is so mean and so deeply insulting, you don't even get mad. You don't even want to argue. It may just hit you the wrong way, and other times you wouldn't care. And you don't want to show that you do care, so you turn away so no one can look at you. But your heart has dropped into your stomach and given you that sick feeling, and there's this heat rising up the back of your neck.
And you'll think of an appropriate comeback, 2 days later when it doesn't matter anymore. That's just the nature of things.

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?"