31 July 2008
Do you have the time to listen to me rhyme?
Current mood: surprised
Forgive me if I stutter
From all of the clutter in my head
Cuz I could fall asleep in those eyes
Like a water bed
Do I seem familiar, i've crossed you in hallways
a thousand times, no more camouflage
I want to be exposed, and not be afraid to fall.
~ "For You I Will" by Teddy Geiger
The message below is not a social commentary – nor is it an all-purpose First Date guide! Management accepts no responsibility for the consequences if anyone chooses to take this as advice.
If you trust the advertising industry – the way to a woman's heart is through expensive jewelry, a new car wrapped in a Giant Bow, a romantic candlelight dinner, or with a sugary-sweet Hallmark card! I acknowledge that those things are nice and I wouldn't mind receiving any of them from a non-stalker. I enjoy receiving nice things. Everyone does – as long as there is not a feeling of obligatory reciprocation. My affection, however, is not won through displays such as these.
My perfect first date is not an expensive restaurant and flowers. My perfect first date is a light dinner somewhere – then a trip to an office supply store, like Office Depot or Staples. And I want to be able to walk up and down EVERY aisle – so I can look at all the pens and notebooks and folders and Post-It Notes – and if he is feeling very sweet, he can surprise me at a later date with a new notepad or some Post-its. Or even a colored Sharpie. I LOVE office supply stores. I like how clean they smell and how everything is organized, while the associates leave me alone to browse.
After our little shopping trip, it'd be great to play mini golf or go bowling or go to an arcade where I can win tickets to buy silly prizes. I am perfectly content paying my own way – so it isn't that I expect him to pay for everything – or anything really. I am a terrible, non-competitive bowler and mini-golfer, which is why I love playing those games. I do not expect to do well and can just have fun. I am pretty high-strung (really, I am . . . though it must be hard to believe). My type-A personality practically disappears when I am able to be silly and just have fun.
And – when I don't feel on the spot or pressured, I am actually fun to be with. Plus, I am much more comfortable spending time with someone when I can laugh and enjoy being in the moment – and what a nice moment that would be.
PERSONAL NOTE: "Google her!" -- Best part of my day was that story. Nicely done, my friend.
EXTRA: My friend, John, left this comment on myspace re: this blog:
Based on the information you've shared, I can see your personal ad now
SWF seeks M who enjoys non-athletic sporting events; must be willing to gaze longingly at office supplies; spending money is optional; text messaging is required
30 July 2008
Show Me Where the Sun Comes Through the Sky
Current mood: amorous
I'd trade my days for nights
I love the city lights
None of your business
Who I might sleep with
Some things are bad for me
And some things I just can't resist
~ "Whatever Gets You On" by Fastball
I think I have a little ADD this afternoon!!! Morrissey's voice is giving me a headache. For some reason, Pandora Radio is playing the Smith's a lot today. And, I normally like listening to his melancholic crooning – but not today!
On the "crush" front, Prince Harry talked to me this morning. Indirectly. "Bella" and I were going to grab a beverage and we spotted an insect on the floor. She offered 'His Royal Highness' a dollar to kill the poor, defenseless beetle. He did it – though he claims he is not a killer for hire – he would happily have done it for free. I made a pretty big deal about the execution-style killing; but in reality, I hate crunchy bugs – so I suppose I am not going to lose sleep over the matter.
In Texas-inspired news, D/BFF sent me an interesting 'tool' via e-mail AND IM (just in case I didn't get the e-mail, I guess) hee hee. It is a database which allows you to enter your Nail Salon's information to verify that they have received no health code violations. Luckily, the salon I used in Fort Worth was absent from the list of – but some people have not been so lucky. Check out a few of these violations:
And my favourite – which resulted in a $16,000 fine and suspension of salon license for 6 months:
That last one is pretty nasty. I mean, what client would get her nails done at a salon where there was debris all over; no hot water, and no utensils in sanitizer??? I refuse to put my feet into a pedicure whirlpool without watching them clean it first. I truly do not see how someone would allow a manicurist to use dirty metal utensils on her hands or feet. Ewwww! I think I just threw up a little. Thanks, D/BFF for this eye-opening experience.
As you can see, I posted some of the pictures that were taken of Elizabeth on my facebook and myspace profiles. Isn't she so adorable? My favourite ones are the mugshots! Hee Hee! Too cute!
I want to remind you that the Breast Cancer 3-Day fundraiser we are holding at Nico is this Friday at 7pm. For those of you who cannot attend, please consider making a ten dollar donation anyway. There are 4 of us walking for our team. You may donate on any of our websites. The money all goes to the same place – to benefit those affected by breast cancer.
So go to our Team Page and choose a Team Member's Name, then DONATE! Credit and Debit cards are welcome - encouraged - and accepted!
http://08.the3day.org/goto/breastintentions
PERSONAL NOTE: I had fun hanging out with you and Roxy last night! Thanks!
I'd trade my days for nights
I love the city lights
None of your business
Who I might sleep with
Some things are bad for me
And some things I just can't resist
~ "Whatever Gets You On" by Fastball
I think I have a little ADD this afternoon!!! Morrissey's voice is giving me a headache. For some reason, Pandora Radio is playing the Smith's a lot today. And, I normally like listening to his melancholic crooning – but not today!
On the "crush" front, Prince Harry talked to me this morning. Indirectly. "Bella" and I were going to grab a beverage and we spotted an insect on the floor. She offered 'His Royal Highness' a dollar to kill the poor, defenseless beetle. He did it – though he claims he is not a killer for hire – he would happily have done it for free. I made a pretty big deal about the execution-style killing; but in reality, I hate crunchy bugs – so I suppose I am not going to lose sleep over the matter.
In Texas-inspired news, D/BFF sent me an interesting 'tool' via e-mail AND IM (just in case I didn't get the e-mail, I guess) hee hee. It is a database which allows you to enter your Nail Salon's information to verify that they have received no health code violations. Luckily, the salon I used in Fort Worth was absent from the list of – but some people have not been so lucky. Check out a few of these violations:
Respondent failed to remove soiled towels after use on each client and deposit in a suitable receptacle; Respondent possessed three electric drills other than those specifically designed and manufactured for use in the professional nail industry.
Respondent failed to clean and sanitize whirlpool foot spas as required at the end of the day.
Respondent performed or attempted to perform a practice of cosmetology without obtaining a license for that practice.
And my favourite – which resulted in a $16,000 fine and suspension of salon license for 6 months:
Respondent failed to have bleach or an EPA-registered disinfectant available to clean and sanitize the whirlpool foot spas; Respondent failed to keep cleaning records for the required bi-weekly cleaning of the whirlpool foot spas; Respondent failed to have a suitable receptacle for used towels; Respondent failed to properly clean, disinfect and sterilize all non-porous manicure and pedicure tools prior to servicing each client; Respondent failed to prepare fresh disinfectant solution daily or more often as needed, for immersion of implements; Respondent failed to keep work areas in a clean, orderly, and sanitary condition; Respondent failed to store in a clean, dry, debris-free environment, separate from soiled implements and materials, all cleaned and disinfected implements and materials when not in use; Respondent failed to provide hand washing facilities for employees which include hot and cold running water; Respondent failed to clean and disinfect all wax pots or leaving applicators standing in the wax; Respondent failed to have tuberculocidal disinfectant solution on premises; Respondent performed an act or practice of cosmetology in which the salon is not Licensed.
That last one is pretty nasty. I mean, what client would get her nails done at a salon where there was debris all over; no hot water, and no utensils in sanitizer??? I refuse to put my feet into a pedicure whirlpool without watching them clean it first. I truly do not see how someone would allow a manicurist to use dirty metal utensils on her hands or feet. Ewwww! I think I just threw up a little. Thanks, D/BFF for this eye-opening experience.
As you can see, I posted some of the pictures that were taken of Elizabeth on my facebook and myspace profiles. Isn't she so adorable? My favourite ones are the mugshots! Hee Hee! Too cute!
I want to remind you that the Breast Cancer 3-Day fundraiser we are holding at Nico is this Friday at 7pm. For those of you who cannot attend, please consider making a ten dollar donation anyway. There are 4 of us walking for our team. You may donate on any of our websites. The money all goes to the same place – to benefit those affected by breast cancer.
So go to our Team Page and choose a Team Member's Name, then DONATE! Credit and Debit cards are welcome - encouraged - and accepted!
http://08.the3day.org/goto/breastintentions
PERSONAL NOTE: I had fun hanging out with you and Roxy last night! Thanks!
29 July 2008
Her Royal Highness and the Royal ‘We’
Current mood: animated
Instead of holding you, I was holding out
I should've let you in, but I let you down
You were the first to give, I was the first to ask
Now I'm in second place, to get a second chance.
~ "Second Chance" by Faber Drive
i'm too sleep-deprived to know that i should've let this go
i'm such a child alone and running wild
i guess there's no one left to blame
but i'm left here all the same
i'm not the same
~ "Burned" by No Second Troy
The band, Downtown Singapore, have a cover of Cyndi Lauper's 'Time After Time'. It is actually a really good update. Plus, the lead singer has that 'whiny boy-band voice' that I love so much. Think Simple Plan and Good Charlotte combined. I know that both of those bands would be revolted to know that I consider them 'boy bands'. But, they are boys, and they are bands – reality must be faced sooner or later.
Last night, I had a disagreement with 'Kickboxer'. And, well, he pissed me off. I do not enjoy being accused of lying or playing mind games – especially when I have done neither. More importantly – I AM NOT CREATING DRAMA WHEN I TELL YOU THE TRUTH – EVEN IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT!
*deep breath*
As I was saying, no games being played – no lies being told – but then the inevitable "you don't know how to show emotion and you are an ice queen" discussion came into play. Granted, those exact words were not used; but the gist is the same. [ I don't know how to care about people because I do not show emotion and I am cold as ice. Blah Blah Blah ]
We* have news for you – all of you reading, actually – that we are neither cold nor heartless. We are not an Ice Queen. We are reserved. And here is where the confusion comes in. . . because generally we are accused of being unemotional, closed-off AND of being over dramatic. Guess what? We cannot be both! So, name callers, you have to choose one or the other. They are mutually exclusive categories!
*the previous paragraph used the "royal we" in reference to being called an "ice queen".
On a more complimentary note – I was told yesterday that I had a 'nice' phone voice. The word 'nice' is a substitution for the word that was used, as I blush rather easily. It makes me want to start my own 1-900 number – but one where I just read the newspaper aloud each day. People can pay to call in and listen to my 'nice' voice while listening to the daily news as well. Seems like a win-win for everyone.
It has been a productive week thus far. Now if I could just get that bookcase built. UGH!
PERSONAL NOTE: I am looking forward to our dinner excursion. "We'll see. . ." how it goes!
Instead of holding you, I was holding out
I should've let you in, but I let you down
You were the first to give, I was the first to ask
Now I'm in second place, to get a second chance.
~ "Second Chance" by Faber Drive
i'm too sleep-deprived to know that i should've let this go
i'm such a child alone and running wild
i guess there's no one left to blame
but i'm left here all the same
i'm not the same
~ "Burned" by No Second Troy
The band, Downtown Singapore, have a cover of Cyndi Lauper's 'Time After Time'. It is actually a really good update. Plus, the lead singer has that 'whiny boy-band voice' that I love so much. Think Simple Plan and Good Charlotte combined. I know that both of those bands would be revolted to know that I consider them 'boy bands'. But, they are boys, and they are bands – reality must be faced sooner or later.
Last night, I had a disagreement with 'Kickboxer'. And, well, he pissed me off. I do not enjoy being accused of lying or playing mind games – especially when I have done neither. More importantly – I AM NOT CREATING DRAMA WHEN I TELL YOU THE TRUTH – EVEN IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO HEAR IT!
*deep breath*
As I was saying, no games being played – no lies being told – but then the inevitable "you don't know how to show emotion and you are an ice queen" discussion came into play. Granted, those exact words were not used; but the gist is the same. [ I don't know how to care about people because I do not show emotion and I am cold as ice. Blah Blah Blah ]
We* have news for you – all of you reading, actually – that we are neither cold nor heartless. We are not an Ice Queen. We are reserved. And here is where the confusion comes in. . . because generally we are accused of being unemotional, closed-off AND of being over dramatic. Guess what? We cannot be both! So, name callers, you have to choose one or the other. They are mutually exclusive categories!
*the previous paragraph used the "royal we" in reference to being called an "ice queen".
On a more complimentary note – I was told yesterday that I had a 'nice' phone voice. The word 'nice' is a substitution for the word that was used, as I blush rather easily. It makes me want to start my own 1-900 number – but one where I just read the newspaper aloud each day. People can pay to call in and listen to my 'nice' voice while listening to the daily news as well. Seems like a win-win for everyone.
It has been a productive week thus far. Now if I could just get that bookcase built. UGH!
PERSONAL NOTE: I am looking forward to our dinner excursion. "We'll see. . ." how it goes!
28 July 2008
Insecurities and Drunken Texts NOT Sent By Me
Current mood: adventurous
"And we were never holding back or worried that
Time would come to an end
We were always hoping that, looking back
You could always rely on a friend"
~ "Being Boring" by Pet Shop Boys
To start off – I want to share 2 very interesting text messages I received this weekend from my friend, "Liquid Courage". It was confusing from the get-go – BUT – I believe in giving the texter the benefit of the doubt. His logic may have been a little shaky due to the ingestion of large amounts of alcoholic refreshment.
". . . if you were with me we would be having phone sex right now . . ."
followed immediately by
". . .if you were as drunk as me right now we would be having phone sex. . ."
Hmmmmm? He is confident enough to believe I would engage in "naughty talk" over the phone – but only if I were there and if I were drunk! So, since I was here and sober, he knew better than to suggest that I would engage in such shenanigans. Good call! Though, I must say that I would have NEVER in a million years thought up the concept of being in the same room as someone, but talking on the phone. Talk about Safety! The CDC should look into that marketing campaign!
Needless to say, I did not take him up on his offer – since I was neither drunk nor there with him – but I assume he was able to seduce some other female with his text messaging and words of adoration. Thumbs up to "Liquid Courage" for putting himself out there!
Now, onto insecurity. I try to come across as confident – even when people like "Crush Boy" stomp all over my emotional fragility! The issue is that I feign self-confidence. I am extremely insecure when it comes to my social skills. Granted, over the past 12 months, I have improved vastly – still, people misinterpret my insecurity as being standoffish or arrogant. It isn't until I am very comfortable with someone that I actually relax and show my true emotions. In fact, the other day, D/BFF was saying that I barely show my true feelings to her and we are as close as sisters.
Therefore, when I receive PG-13 text messages or flirtatious comments, I assume they are either said in jest or with no intent. It takes a lot to convince me otherwise and even then, I am cautious, waiting for the other boot to drop, so to speak. And, when someone mocks me – unless I know for a fact that they are 100% teasing – I will withdraw completely from that person, leaving them confused as to why. I promise that it has nothing to do with my anger – as I cannot hold a grudge. I withdraw because I truly believe they no longer want to engage in discourse.
Luckily for me – most of my close friends know these little quirks about me and they do their best to keep me from hiding away. And they do things like ask me on dinner dates; to go on road trips; and to marry them. I have learned from experience that while I may indeed be the marrying type – I need to work on the staying married part. Therefore, I tend to turn down proposals – unless they include Las Vegas (where I have never been), Elvis impersonators, or monkeys in short pants. Yes, I know that my fascination with monkeys in short pants may not make the ASPCA happy – but I believe that monkeys enjoy wearing shiny short pants. If I could, I would sew every monkey his/her own short pants wardrobe.
What a great way to segue to my next topic – getting this 31 and 11/12s year old body ready for the San Diego beach. Here are my concerns – I am white (ivory, really) – one giant sunburn waiting to happen. On top of that, my stomach is softer than I would like. Hell, it's desperately in need of a personal trainer and some self-discipline – neither of which can I afford at the moment. I may try to start doing crunches tonight, in hopes that by the time my San Diego trip rolls around – I will look like I have a 30 year old stomach. Wouldn't that just be grand????
PERSONAL NOTE: I love you, unconditionally.
24 July 2008
Popsicle Loving and Pie Crust Promises
Current mood: drained
I woke up today.
That was my first mistake.
Would've been better off
In the middle of a dream
I was havin' bout a brighter day.
Yesterday, I gave my heart away.
By the middle of the day,
You could search for a sucker
and buy it now on ebay.
~ "Lovesick Stomach Ache" by Bowling for Soup
So, today – bloody hell, what a fucking day it was. I started a blog earlier that was going on and on about how Garden Salsa Sun Chips burn the hell out of my mouth, because they are deceptively spicy – and then I was going to transition into the night that D/BFF and I went to see Henry Rollins do his Spoken Word show – and how I had to eat the ultra hot salsa at dinner and teared up from the pain – but then my day went to Hell in a hand basket – and the two minutes I spent starting to type a blog turned into 2 extra hours after work, working – if that makes sense. So – no salsa chip stories – no humorous work anecdotes –and no "happy Girl Genius" stories.
If that is what you were expecting then you need to log out of the internet and turn on Girls Next Door. I am distracted at the moment by the Last Comic Standing. The guy who was just up – Adam Hunter – reminds me of someone – but who it is escapes me -- luckily I am watching it on the DVR – so I'll rewatch it if I really need to remember who. Iliza is definitely the funniest comedian on this show. In my opinion anyway!
Okay, so back to the day I had. Seriously, I was somewhere between madness and despair by 11am. First off, it was PT day – meaning that my neck and back were prodded and poked and bruised – all for the sake of HEALING what AILS me. Poor Nicolai – he tries so hard not to hurt me – but by the time I leave the session, I am definitely moaning and not in that "hit me baby, one more time" way. Anyway, after the torture-fest was over, I went to work – where the day just got better and better!
In between dealing with "Never Works Guy" and HTML coding a very large and daunting document, I was able to drink 3 cans of Mt. Dew, listen to my iPod, and humiliate myself by professing a "crush" that I don't even have -- to someone. Okay – the word "professing" is an embellishment – what I really did was tell someone that I had a crush – and when he asked on who* ("whom*" I corrected in my head – but not aloud as it could hurt his little feelings) I said, "you". He then said something along the lines of . . ."hmmm, heard you have a date with so-and-so coming up". To which I respond in a defensive and self-deprecating manner. And wonder who the hell told him that! First off, it isn't a date really, I conned him into it. Second, who told you????? Was it 'Surfer Boy'? Is that who opened his big mouth?" Where did the conversation go wrong? I tell boy that I have a crush on him (which was obviously taken as a joke) – boy mentions a date that I (may or may not) have in the undisclosed future – and I react like a fucking crazy person! WTF??? Then- he CALLS ME OUT on my craziness – via Chat of all things. And he was right! I was behaving like a lunatic over a comment I said in jest!
By 4 o'clock, I was 'running on empty' and the Fiber One bar I had consumed hours earlier was long forgotten. Hence, the need for the aforementioned Garden Salsa Sun Chips. Fast forward an hour and I am desperate for assistance. I do not understand the notes I am working from and I need clarification. So I ask 'Crush Boy' for assistance – and he sends me to someone on my DTM list! Really? Really? The DTM (Dead to Me) list is serious business. I cannot talk to people who are dead to me – it defeats the purpose of the damn list! But in desperation, I called him and left a voice mail that said, "Look, you are dead to me, and we both know it – but I need your help – so, if you have time, please call me back." And he did!
Guess he is a Hindu – with the reincarnation wheel of karma on his side – because he no longer has DTM status! Redemption!!!
Now, I am at home, unable to build my bookcase because I cannot find the hardware to it. Somewhere, either in the garage, in a box – or more probable, on the side of the interstate somewhere between Fort Worth and Omaha – there is a bag of hardware. I will now have to call IKEA and pay for new hardware. And pieces of bookcase are littering my living room.
Alright, I think I am finally done ranting. I apologize that there is no 'funny' or 'witty' or even 'tolerable' sentiment in this posting.
I'll make it up to you – I promise!
PERSONAL NOTE: I need to find my own Michael Weston! How fricking cool would that be? You can have Shawn Spencer and we can have a double wedding! Woohoo!!!
I woke up today.
That was my first mistake.
Would've been better off
In the middle of a dream
I was havin' bout a brighter day.
Yesterday, I gave my heart away.
By the middle of the day,
You could search for a sucker
and buy it now on ebay.
~ "Lovesick Stomach Ache" by Bowling for Soup
So, today – bloody hell, what a fucking day it was. I started a blog earlier that was going on and on about how Garden Salsa Sun Chips burn the hell out of my mouth, because they are deceptively spicy – and then I was going to transition into the night that D/BFF and I went to see Henry Rollins do his Spoken Word show – and how I had to eat the ultra hot salsa at dinner and teared up from the pain – but then my day went to Hell in a hand basket – and the two minutes I spent starting to type a blog turned into 2 extra hours after work, working – if that makes sense. So – no salsa chip stories – no humorous work anecdotes –and no "happy Girl Genius" stories.
If that is what you were expecting then you need to log out of the internet and turn on Girls Next Door. I am distracted at the moment by the Last Comic Standing. The guy who was just up – Adam Hunter – reminds me of someone – but who it is escapes me -- luckily I am watching it on the DVR – so I'll rewatch it if I really need to remember who. Iliza is definitely the funniest comedian on this show. In my opinion anyway!
Okay, so back to the day I had. Seriously, I was somewhere between madness and despair by 11am. First off, it was PT day – meaning that my neck and back were prodded and poked and bruised – all for the sake of HEALING what AILS me. Poor Nicolai – he tries so hard not to hurt me – but by the time I leave the session, I am definitely moaning and not in that "hit me baby, one more time" way. Anyway, after the torture-fest was over, I went to work – where the day just got better and better!
In between dealing with "Never Works Guy" and HTML coding a very large and daunting document, I was able to drink 3 cans of Mt. Dew, listen to my iPod, and humiliate myself by professing a "crush" that I don't even have -- to someone. Okay – the word "professing" is an embellishment – what I really did was tell someone that I had a crush – and when he asked on who* ("whom*" I corrected in my head – but not aloud as it could hurt his little feelings) I said, "you". He then said something along the lines of . . ."hmmm, heard you have a date with so-and-so coming up". To which I respond in a defensive and self-deprecating manner. And wonder who the hell told him that! First off, it isn't a date really, I conned him into it. Second, who told you????? Was it 'Surfer Boy'? Is that who opened his big mouth?" Where did the conversation go wrong? I tell boy that I have a crush on him (which was obviously taken as a joke) – boy mentions a date that I (may or may not) have in the undisclosed future – and I react like a fucking crazy person! WTF??? Then- he CALLS ME OUT on my craziness – via Chat of all things. And he was right! I was behaving like a lunatic over a comment I said in jest!
By 4 o'clock, I was 'running on empty' and the Fiber One bar I had consumed hours earlier was long forgotten. Hence, the need for the aforementioned Garden Salsa Sun Chips. Fast forward an hour and I am desperate for assistance. I do not understand the notes I am working from and I need clarification. So I ask 'Crush Boy' for assistance – and he sends me to someone on my DTM list! Really? Really? The DTM (Dead to Me) list is serious business. I cannot talk to people who are dead to me – it defeats the purpose of the damn list! But in desperation, I called him and left a voice mail that said, "Look, you are dead to me, and we both know it – but I need your help – so, if you have time, please call me back." And he did!
Guess he is a Hindu – with the reincarnation wheel of karma on his side – because he no longer has DTM status! Redemption!!!
Now, I am at home, unable to build my bookcase because I cannot find the hardware to it. Somewhere, either in the garage, in a box – or more probable, on the side of the interstate somewhere between Fort Worth and Omaha – there is a bag of hardware. I will now have to call IKEA and pay for new hardware. And pieces of bookcase are littering my living room.
Alright, I think I am finally done ranting. I apologize that there is no 'funny' or 'witty' or even 'tolerable' sentiment in this posting.
I'll make it up to you – I promise!
PERSONAL NOTE: I need to find my own Michael Weston! How fricking cool would that be? You can have Shawn Spencer and we can have a double wedding! Woohoo!!!
23 July 2008
It gives me thrills to wind you up
Current mood: awake
My fingertips are holding onto the
cracks in our foundations,
and I know that I should let go,
but I can't.
~ "Foundations" by Kate Nash
I am hyped up on caffeine. I drank an iced coffee earlier, then a Mt. Dew, and then I took a caffeine pill. Yes, "Red" those pills – but I only took one – so I won't go crazy and call you, ranting like a madwoman, crying about how I desperately need sleep. I only took ONE! Promise!
Anyway, so my fidgety body is fidgeting more than usual and I am filled with energy. The problem is, unlike ephedra, caffeine doesn't actually give me energy, it just makes me think I have some. Why oh why did the FDA take away my ephedra??? When I go to San Diego in a few weeks, I am going to go across the border into the miraculous pharmacy they call Mexico, and buy me up some ephedra. I will need an escort – someone who speaks Spanish AND knows how to smuggle energy pills into the country. Because I am not stuffing them into a balloon and swallowing them. Just isn't happening, folks!
Anyway, while in San Diego, I will be with my friend, "So Sassy" and I am looking forward to the fun in the sun! She is an amazingly cool chica and I cannot wait to be there.
However – before I am there, I will be spending a week in Fort Worth!!!! I could not miss my D/BFF's birthday party! That would be sacrilege. Unacceptable! I will also be helping her move – which reminds me – all of you people who PROMISED to help me pack, etc, and didn't – well, I am cashing in those "Help me Move" cards for D/BFF. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! She needs help moving the heavy stuff and I am not carrying anything that could kill me if it falls on me. Sorry!
I get to work again tonight at the studio. I am not sure what tonight's adventures will entail – but I can tell you this . . . I need to figure out how to print my business cards because people ask for them ALL THE TIME! Everyone wants their picture taken nowadays. It's crazy!
I suppose I should get back to it. I am so busy at work and have used 15 minutes of break time typing this up.
Kisses to all!
PERSONAL NOTE: Red and black are nice colors; but if you keep up your shenanigans and pie crust promises, you will never get to see them!
22 July 2008
What more can I admit to?
Current mood: dorky
I can't find my watch
I can't find my wallet
So how in the Hell am I supposed to find
The one that I love, the one that I need?
~'Amelia's Missing' by Jon McLaughlin
I am 31 years old – almost 32 if we are being completely honest. I have been married and divorced twice. I am no shy virgin, looking for her first true love. I have been out of the dating scene for almost 12 years. I do not know the art of flirting "with intent". I know how to flirt "without intent". Make eye contact, smile, lean forward, act interested (ahem, I mean, 'be interested'), laugh when appropriate, and touch the arm or the leg momentarily, then withdraw. All while knowing that you are just having fun and have a loving husband/boyfriend/fiancée at home – so it means nothing. In fact, the protection of the ring is one of the reasons it is easy to flirt – because there is no rejection without intent.
But now, I have no significant other – I don't really have an insignificant other. I have me – and a dog and cat – that's it. I don't want a one-night stand – but I could use a fun-loving, non-clingy, good looking boy who appreciates an emotionally withdrawn, text message addict in her early thirties. I like to think of the movie, "Must Love Dogs", where the main character ends up with John Cusack. I am good with that scenario. I look for someone who just wants to hang out and end up with Lloyd Dobbler – who happened to be a kick boxer. Hmmm . . . . makes me wonder if perhaps I have gone about something all wrong.
I am way off track here . . . kick boxers have that effect on me. .. *stand by*
Anyway – back to the art of flirtation. I am not good at silly mind games. I can never tell when someone is flirting with me – so I don't know when to encourage and when to discourage. What this means is that I generally send out wrong signals. I mean to put up the flashing yellow – allowing them to proceed with caution – and they take it as a "Bridge Out" sign and turn around. While the daredevil morons see the sign and slam down the accelerator. Are these metaphors making any sense?
I think my Director's knack for really bad examples has been absorbed into my brain.
What I am trying to say is that I need a few lessons on social discourse. It was much easier in the Victorian era when I could just giggle behind a fan, and use my dowry to pick up a Duke or Viscount. Now – I am stuck with two jobs, no dowry, and a kitchen-less house. I think I took a wrong turn in Albuquerque!
PERSONAL NOTE: Yes, I was flirting. Ugh, now I am embarrassed. Bloody Hell!
I can't find my watch
I can't find my wallet
So how in the Hell am I supposed to find
The one that I love, the one that I need?
~'Amelia's Missing' by Jon McLaughlin
I am 31 years old – almost 32 if we are being completely honest. I have been married and divorced twice. I am no shy virgin, looking for her first true love. I have been out of the dating scene for almost 12 years. I do not know the art of flirting "with intent". I know how to flirt "without intent". Make eye contact, smile, lean forward, act interested (ahem, I mean, 'be interested'), laugh when appropriate, and touch the arm or the leg momentarily, then withdraw. All while knowing that you are just having fun and have a loving husband/boyfriend/fiancée at home – so it means nothing. In fact, the protection of the ring is one of the reasons it is easy to flirt – because there is no rejection without intent.
But now, I have no significant other – I don't really have an insignificant other. I have me – and a dog and cat – that's it. I don't want a one-night stand – but I could use a fun-loving, non-clingy, good looking boy who appreciates an emotionally withdrawn, text message addict in her early thirties. I like to think of the movie, "Must Love Dogs", where the main character ends up with John Cusack. I am good with that scenario. I look for someone who just wants to hang out and end up with Lloyd Dobbler – who happened to be a kick boxer. Hmmm . . . . makes me wonder if perhaps I have gone about something all wrong.
I am way off track here . . . kick boxers have that effect on me. .. *stand by*
Anyway – back to the art of flirtation. I am not good at silly mind games. I can never tell when someone is flirting with me – so I don't know when to encourage and when to discourage. What this means is that I generally send out wrong signals. I mean to put up the flashing yellow – allowing them to proceed with caution – and they take it as a "Bridge Out" sign and turn around. While the daredevil morons see the sign and slam down the accelerator. Are these metaphors making any sense?
I think my Director's knack for really bad examples has been absorbed into my brain.
What I am trying to say is that I need a few lessons on social discourse. It was much easier in the Victorian era when I could just giggle behind a fan, and use my dowry to pick up a Duke or Viscount. Now – I am stuck with two jobs, no dowry, and a kitchen-less house. I think I took a wrong turn in Albuquerque!
PERSONAL NOTE: Yes, I was flirting. Ugh, now I am embarrassed. Bloody Hell!
21 July 2008
They made love on the mezzanine. . . her husband was his friend!
Current mood: thirsty
Saturday was the one year anniversary of the finalization of my divorce. Hard to believe that I have been single for a year. What better way to commemorate my divorce than with working a Bridal Fair all day on Sunday? That's right, folks, Girl Genius spent hours talking to future brides and grooms, sharing in their excitement and encouraging them to select our company for all of their wedding photography needs. Hell, we even had one of our "special infant portraits" on site – to encourage the future brides to get knocked up so their babies could be photographed in such an adorable manner!
Based on some of the fair-goers, looks like they had a head start on the baby making process. There were a lot of pregnant "VIBs" (Very Important Brides") onsite. I made sure to push the baby picture angle on those guests. They seemed appreciative. Well, that or they just wanted to move on to the next booth which was an amazing caterer who gave away food samples and not just folders with price lists like us!
I congratulated hundreds of brides on their decision to get married. I met some of their grooms (the poor guys who were dragged to the fair) and congratulated them too! I made each bride feel like she were the only one getting married. I encouraged them to enjoy their engagement time – and to take some time for them within the whirlwind. I showed them photography packages and let them know that their wedding day will be amazing and special and just what they want.
Then, I asked God to forgive me for glossing over the fact that half of these couples would end up divorced. I didn't bring up the fact that true love is a silly reason to get married – and not at all practical for today's society. I did not mention that I have two gorgeous wedding albums which now commemorate failed marriages instead of happily ever after. I am not anti-marriage – truly I am not. I just think that humans are pretty irrational with regards to picking life partners. And these 22 year old girls getting married really haven't lived enough life to make a decision that will result in a lifetime of happiness. Still, let's be hopeful!
I laugh at the irony that is me pushing marriage at a Bridal Fair!
Thus far, my family has been pretty "hands off" when it comes to encouraging me to move on or date or whatever, since the divorce. They were supportive of my relationship with 'Boston' and have asked no questions since he and I broke up. So, imagine my surprise yesterday when a vendor walked up to the booth, and everyone backed off, leaving me to be the only person to talk to him. He was in his early-to-mid thirties and attractive enough, I guess, but seriously, I am not looking for a new beau at this time. Turns out, he stopped by to let me know that he was donating a certificate to my silent auction for the 3 Day fundraiser we are doing on August 1.
Once he walked away, my mom and her friend who also works for the studio, came over and let me know they backed away to give me a chance to flirt. What???? Then I asked them, "He had a ring on. Are you going to make a habit of sending the married ones to me?" LOL They said that it didn't look like a wedding ring, and that if he is indeed married, then they may have made a mistake. From there, I was then encouraged to talk to one of the models for Groomswear. Granted, he was pretty, and seemed nice. But – I am not forward enough to just go up to a guy like that. . . especially not while I am working.
I ended up just giving him some business cards for two of our photographers (and my own) and told him if he had any photography needs to give us a call. Turns out, his mom owns a reception hall – so he was going to have her advertise for us! Looks like my attempt at flirting may have actually just been good marketing skills!
Girl Genius – 0
Photo Studio – 1
Oh well! I don't know that I am ready to date a model. Still, if he calls for pictures - I will definitely be his sales rep! Hee hee
PERSONAL NOTE: Looking forward to being back in DFW August 25 – September 1!!!
Saturday was the one year anniversary of the finalization of my divorce. Hard to believe that I have been single for a year. What better way to commemorate my divorce than with working a Bridal Fair all day on Sunday? That's right, folks, Girl Genius spent hours talking to future brides and grooms, sharing in their excitement and encouraging them to select our company for all of their wedding photography needs. Hell, we even had one of our "special infant portraits" on site – to encourage the future brides to get knocked up so their babies could be photographed in such an adorable manner!
Based on some of the fair-goers, looks like they had a head start on the baby making process. There were a lot of pregnant "VIBs" (Very Important Brides") onsite. I made sure to push the baby picture angle on those guests. They seemed appreciative. Well, that or they just wanted to move on to the next booth which was an amazing caterer who gave away food samples and not just folders with price lists like us!
I congratulated hundreds of brides on their decision to get married. I met some of their grooms (the poor guys who were dragged to the fair) and congratulated them too! I made each bride feel like she were the only one getting married. I encouraged them to enjoy their engagement time – and to take some time for them within the whirlwind. I showed them photography packages and let them know that their wedding day will be amazing and special and just what they want.
Then, I asked God to forgive me for glossing over the fact that half of these couples would end up divorced. I didn't bring up the fact that true love is a silly reason to get married – and not at all practical for today's society. I did not mention that I have two gorgeous wedding albums which now commemorate failed marriages instead of happily ever after. I am not anti-marriage – truly I am not. I just think that humans are pretty irrational with regards to picking life partners. And these 22 year old girls getting married really haven't lived enough life to make a decision that will result in a lifetime of happiness. Still, let's be hopeful!
I laugh at the irony that is me pushing marriage at a Bridal Fair!
Thus far, my family has been pretty "hands off" when it comes to encouraging me to move on or date or whatever, since the divorce. They were supportive of my relationship with 'Boston' and have asked no questions since he and I broke up. So, imagine my surprise yesterday when a vendor walked up to the booth, and everyone backed off, leaving me to be the only person to talk to him. He was in his early-to-mid thirties and attractive enough, I guess, but seriously, I am not looking for a new beau at this time. Turns out, he stopped by to let me know that he was donating a certificate to my silent auction for the 3 Day fundraiser we are doing on August 1.
Once he walked away, my mom and her friend who also works for the studio, came over and let me know they backed away to give me a chance to flirt. What???? Then I asked them, "He had a ring on. Are you going to make a habit of sending the married ones to me?" LOL They said that it didn't look like a wedding ring, and that if he is indeed married, then they may have made a mistake. From there, I was then encouraged to talk to one of the models for Groomswear. Granted, he was pretty, and seemed nice. But – I am not forward enough to just go up to a guy like that. . . especially not while I am working.
I ended up just giving him some business cards for two of our photographers (and my own) and told him if he had any photography needs to give us a call. Turns out, his mom owns a reception hall – so he was going to have her advertise for us! Looks like my attempt at flirting may have actually just been good marketing skills!
Girl Genius – 0
Photo Studio – 1
Oh well! I don't know that I am ready to date a model. Still, if he calls for pictures - I will definitely be his sales rep! Hee hee
PERSONAL NOTE: Looking forward to being back in DFW August 25 – September 1!!!
18 July 2008
Something for you to read
Current mood: bouncy
You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
and all my fragile strength is gone.
~ 'Gravity' by Sara Bareilles
The alarm clock say 2:02am, and I have to trust it because it is one of those alarm clocks that sets itself based on some satelite flying around in the Earth's orbit. I don't comprehend how it works, exactly, but I know that if I unplug it, then plug it back in, the digital numbers go crazy for a moment, and then 'poof' like magic, the time appears. What makes the clock even more amazing is that when it comes unplugged or there is a power outage - the alarm will still go off at the right time, even though the clock is turned off and the numbers are not visible. The miracles of technology never cease to amaze me.
I actually did fall asleep before midnight tonight - out of sheer exhaustion - but as is generally the situation, insomnia kicked in and I am unable to keep my eyes closed. Perfect - well, not entirely perfect! *sarcasm* This is a crazy time at work and I truly do need my sleep, just to prevent myself from losing my composure at my cubicle - like I did today. It seems, without fail, that the waterworks behind my eyes are over producing lately. I cry at every little thing. As my D/BFF would say, "Girl, you are a mess!"
In my defense, while in Omaha, I have not yet gone out to my car and sat on the floor in the backseat so I could sob. Over the past 14 months, the floor of my car has been my solace more than once - while I was 'tucking'. Yes, "Tee - You - See - Kay - Eye - En - Gee"! That is another D/BFF contribution. It is a reference to my tendency of spiraling emotionally; but 'tucking' away from the world and not allowing my friends 'in' to help life the burden. It's a play on words - obviously. Which could have gone without saying, but I don't ever seem to shut-up! *Empire Records reference 2 -- are you paying attemtion?*
Tonight, as a form of self-medicating, I downloaded a plethora of music from Amazon and iTunes for my listening enjoyment. The problem with tehse two programs is that my credit card info is saved in their systems. This means that I can select the songs or albums I want, without having to grab my wallet and type in any information. It's almst like getting the songs for free -- or so it seems until my damn bill arrives and I see that due to the RIAA, it is no longer a free-for-all at the online record store. There is no Shawn Fanning sitting in his dorm room, allowing me access to mass amounts of shared music. Instead, he is sitting in his corporate office, raking in the big bucks, while I dump virtual money into the bank accounts of Steve Jobs and Jeff Bezos.
*pause*
It is now 2:27 and I just received a text message. Looks like I am not the only insomniac tonight. With that, I will bid you farewell until I have something else to say. . .
PERSONAL NOTE: I am praying fervently for her recovery. Let me know how I can be of assistance to your and your family!
You loved me 'cause I'm fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
and all my fragile strength is gone.
~ 'Gravity' by Sara Bareilles
The alarm clock say 2:02am, and I have to trust it because it is one of those alarm clocks that sets itself based on some satelite flying around in the Earth's orbit. I don't comprehend how it works, exactly, but I know that if I unplug it, then plug it back in, the digital numbers go crazy for a moment, and then 'poof' like magic, the time appears. What makes the clock even more amazing is that when it comes unplugged or there is a power outage - the alarm will still go off at the right time, even though the clock is turned off and the numbers are not visible. The miracles of technology never cease to amaze me.
I actually did fall asleep before midnight tonight - out of sheer exhaustion - but as is generally the situation, insomnia kicked in and I am unable to keep my eyes closed. Perfect - well, not entirely perfect! *sarcasm* This is a crazy time at work and I truly do need my sleep, just to prevent myself from losing my composure at my cubicle - like I did today. It seems, without fail, that the waterworks behind my eyes are over producing lately. I cry at every little thing. As my D/BFF would say, "Girl, you are a mess!"
In my defense, while in Omaha, I have not yet gone out to my car and sat on the floor in the backseat so I could sob. Over the past 14 months, the floor of my car has been my solace more than once - while I was 'tucking'. Yes, "Tee - You - See - Kay - Eye - En - Gee"! That is another D/BFF contribution. It is a reference to my tendency of spiraling emotionally; but 'tucking' away from the world and not allowing my friends 'in' to help life the burden. It's a play on words - obviously. Which could have gone without saying, but I don't ever seem to shut-up! *Empire Records reference 2 -- are you paying attemtion?*
Tonight, as a form of self-medicating, I downloaded a plethora of music from Amazon and iTunes for my listening enjoyment. The problem with tehse two programs is that my credit card info is saved in their systems. This means that I can select the songs or albums I want, without having to grab my wallet and type in any information. It's almst like getting the songs for free -- or so it seems until my damn bill arrives and I see that due to the RIAA, it is no longer a free-for-all at the online record store. There is no Shawn Fanning sitting in his dorm room, allowing me access to mass amounts of shared music. Instead, he is sitting in his corporate office, raking in the big bucks, while I dump virtual money into the bank accounts of Steve Jobs and Jeff Bezos.
*pause*
It is now 2:27 and I just received a text message. Looks like I am not the only insomniac tonight. With that, I will bid you farewell until I have something else to say. . .
PERSONAL NOTE: I am praying fervently for her recovery. Let me know how I can be of assistance to your and your family!
17 July 2008
Chapter 2
Current mood: stressed
I am too busy to blog -- so here is an excerpt from my novel instead.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
It hurt to move. Every muscle in her body screamed out in pain while she attempted to get her bearings. Her fingers were swollen and she was sure that her left hand was broken. The overhead light was off; but soft light was coming in from the hallway outside of the room. She was lying in a hospital bed. The bed next to hers was empty. She fought to remember what happened; but her thoughts were fuzzy and dark. She was still alive, which meant she'd successfully fought back. While she was giving thanks to God for delivering her from the Evil that had plagued her for two decades, her prayer was interrupted by a soft whistle in the hall. When she tried to move, the woman realized that her torso and legs were bound to the bed. Panic overcame her when she saw the silhouette in the doorway.
"You're awake. We've been so worried about you." Tears started streaming down her bruised face when he walked closer to her bedside. "Oh, don't cry, Little One." he soothed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I haven't given you anything to cry about. Not yet, anyway." She attempted to jerk away from him, but the pain was too much and she felt her consciousness slipping when he squeezed her left hand in his. "Rest now. We'll talk later." He smiled and sat down in the plastic chair next to her bed. He wondered what dreams were taking form in her mind. The ones she had been sent before couldn't help her; couldn't save her.
Once he was sure she would stay asleep, he walked into the bathroom and took off his shirt to examine his bruises. She had fought back with a vengeance this time. Her speed and rage were unexpected and it had taken longer than he'd intended to disarm her. The wound on his shoulder was stitched, but still wept blood and pus. She had been able to get in a surprise blow with her keys before he could grip her left arm. Her bones had cracked when he slammed her hand into the cement column she had been hiding behind. Her scream had been deafening; but she kept fighting, knocking the wind out of him more than once, until he knocked her unconscious with one strong kick to her face.
His fingers traced the bruises on his chest. She had learned how to punch while he'd been gone. Her aim was accurate and his solar plexus had taken the brunt of her rage. She tried for his windpipe once, but his hands were quicker than hers, and he merely reminded her that her hand was broken when he grabbed it. His face was still unmarked and beautiful, like an angel's. He smiled into the mirror and redonned his shirt. She would wake up again soon, and this time he wanted to watch her face register his presence in the light. He wanted to see her fear close up and personal.
I am too busy to blog -- so here is an excerpt from my novel instead.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
It hurt to move. Every muscle in her body screamed out in pain while she attempted to get her bearings. Her fingers were swollen and she was sure that her left hand was broken. The overhead light was off; but soft light was coming in from the hallway outside of the room. She was lying in a hospital bed. The bed next to hers was empty. She fought to remember what happened; but her thoughts were fuzzy and dark. She was still alive, which meant she'd successfully fought back. While she was giving thanks to God for delivering her from the Evil that had plagued her for two decades, her prayer was interrupted by a soft whistle in the hall. When she tried to move, the woman realized that her torso and legs were bound to the bed. Panic overcame her when she saw the silhouette in the doorway.
"You're awake. We've been so worried about you." Tears started streaming down her bruised face when he walked closer to her bedside. "Oh, don't cry, Little One." he soothed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I haven't given you anything to cry about. Not yet, anyway." She attempted to jerk away from him, but the pain was too much and she felt her consciousness slipping when he squeezed her left hand in his. "Rest now. We'll talk later." He smiled and sat down in the plastic chair next to her bed. He wondered what dreams were taking form in her mind. The ones she had been sent before couldn't help her; couldn't save her.
Once he was sure she would stay asleep, he walked into the bathroom and took off his shirt to examine his bruises. She had fought back with a vengeance this time. Her speed and rage were unexpected and it had taken longer than he'd intended to disarm her. The wound on his shoulder was stitched, but still wept blood and pus. She had been able to get in a surprise blow with her keys before he could grip her left arm. Her bones had cracked when he slammed her hand into the cement column she had been hiding behind. Her scream had been deafening; but she kept fighting, knocking the wind out of him more than once, until he knocked her unconscious with one strong kick to her face.
His fingers traced the bruises on his chest. She had learned how to punch while he'd been gone. Her aim was accurate and his solar plexus had taken the brunt of her rage. She tried for his windpipe once, but his hands were quicker than hers, and he merely reminded her that her hand was broken when he grabbed it. His face was still unmarked and beautiful, like an angel's. He smiled into the mirror and redonned his shirt. She would wake up again soon, and this time he wanted to watch her face register his presence in the light. He wanted to see her fear close up and personal.
15 July 2008
Alright, Mr. DeMille, I’m Ready for My Closeup
Current mood: stressed
Yesterday, Elizabeth had her first professional photo shoot at the studio. Our photographer is a genius when it comes to working with animals. He lets them wander the studio until they get bored, then he begins snapping pictures – able to hold their attention. I was in a majority of the shots with Elizabeth, but she was definitely the star!! I only saw a couple of the frames due to time constraints, but I was extremely impressed with how photogenic she is; nothing like her mama, I assure you.
When we were finished, Elizabeth and I went outside to walk by the lake. She took off running, dragging me behind her, and dove into the weeds. Unfortunately, she had found a nesting mother duck! The duck flew into the lake, and Elizabeth sniffed all the eggs in the nest. I felt horrible about the whole situation; but as soon as we walked away, mother duck returned to her eggs, and Ebie and I left her alone. Though that duck was safe from stalking – the rest were not so fortunate. Before I knew what was happening, Elizabeth was off again, this time, diving into the water and paddling after the ducks that were quacking and swimming away. The leash is only 15 feet long, so she couldn't go as far as she wanted – which suited the ducks just fine. She continued to doggie paddle for a few more minutes, after which I called her back. She came bounding up the bank and shook as much water as she could onto me.
We ran back to the studio, said goodbye to everyone and drove home to our new little house in our midtown neighborhood. I changed shoes, grabbed the leash, and locked the door. Elizabeth and I then went on a leisurely walk to Memorial Park. She was having so much fun sniffing everything and running along – trying to make friends with the birds and the squirrels and the bunnies and pretty much anything that caught her attention. She actually met a couple of dogs who live near us – and she appeared to enjoy their company. Harvey and Foo Foo are their names, I believe. Harvey (a giant boxer) would decide that he was tired, and just lie down wherever he was – causing his owner and Foo Foo the other dog, to stop walking and begin coaxing. Hee hee
Anyway – I am irritated as all get out today so I will end this before I start on a rant that should be better left unsaid!
PERSONAL NOTE: Get over yourself – seriously!
Yesterday, Elizabeth had her first professional photo shoot at the studio. Our photographer is a genius when it comes to working with animals. He lets them wander the studio until they get bored, then he begins snapping pictures – able to hold their attention. I was in a majority of the shots with Elizabeth, but she was definitely the star!! I only saw a couple of the frames due to time constraints, but I was extremely impressed with how photogenic she is; nothing like her mama, I assure you.
When we were finished, Elizabeth and I went outside to walk by the lake. She took off running, dragging me behind her, and dove into the weeds. Unfortunately, she had found a nesting mother duck! The duck flew into the lake, and Elizabeth sniffed all the eggs in the nest. I felt horrible about the whole situation; but as soon as we walked away, mother duck returned to her eggs, and Ebie and I left her alone. Though that duck was safe from stalking – the rest were not so fortunate. Before I knew what was happening, Elizabeth was off again, this time, diving into the water and paddling after the ducks that were quacking and swimming away. The leash is only 15 feet long, so she couldn't go as far as she wanted – which suited the ducks just fine. She continued to doggie paddle for a few more minutes, after which I called her back. She came bounding up the bank and shook as much water as she could onto me.
We ran back to the studio, said goodbye to everyone and drove home to our new little house in our midtown neighborhood. I changed shoes, grabbed the leash, and locked the door. Elizabeth and I then went on a leisurely walk to Memorial Park. She was having so much fun sniffing everything and running along – trying to make friends with the birds and the squirrels and the bunnies and pretty much anything that caught her attention. She actually met a couple of dogs who live near us – and she appeared to enjoy their company. Harvey and Foo Foo are their names, I believe. Harvey (a giant boxer) would decide that he was tired, and just lie down wherever he was – causing his owner and Foo Foo the other dog, to stop walking and begin coaxing. Hee hee
Anyway – I am irritated as all get out today so I will end this before I start on a rant that should be better left unsaid!
PERSONAL NOTE: Get over yourself – seriously!
14 July 2008
Viva la France
Happy Bastille Day!
It is July 14th, and the citizens of France are rejoicing in their National Celebration which commemorates political unrest and a revolt against the crown! The Tour de France is in full form – and Ryan and Sandra are celebrating their wedding anniversary. I love Bastille Day! Fireworks will be set off from the Eiffel Tower – creating a spectacle of light and color that can be seen across Paris.
Okay – so I may be going a little overboard regarding Bastille Day – but it truly is one of the few holidays that Historians can celebrate which is not completely arbitrary.
I have officially moved into my new place. It still has no kitchen, no cable TV, and no internet – but I'll survive it. I can always watch the one DVD I have at the house or send mass text messages (which by the way, I have not done for several days! I am in a texting recovery program. *slight exaggeration* Thus far I have done very well!)
This morning, Ebie was so excited to go outside into her new backyard. Because there is no fence, I have to stand out there and watch her while she plays for a little while. She wore herself out at 7am by chasing a rabbit around and around and around the unattached garage. She was running so fast I was actually worried about catching her if she bolted out of the yard. Luckily for me – she preferred to just run around in circles. I don't know that she even had a clue that she was never going to catch that rabbit. It was Quick as a Bunny!
Once she had calmed down, Ebie followed me back into the house. She was surprised by the fact that she had to go into her kennel. She has grown used to being free in my parents' yard during the day. Oh well! She can use the discipline of the kennel. Before you start feeling too sorry for Elizabeth, 'Veggie Girl' is going to be at the house today and will let her outside to play for a little while. She is too spoiled as it is.
I am bloody tired today. It was a long weekend. I keep forgetting that I am not in my twenties anymore. Getting home at 5:30am is growing more difficult from which to recover. You'd think someone with insomnia, like me, would be used to functioning on very little sleep. Perhaps it's the vodka mixed with no sleep that knocks me flat. Oh, that is just silly talk!
Vodka is just like water – only flavored!
PERSONAL NOTE: Your little 'mouth' and 'smile' comment – well, it was almost as impressive as your 'slow texting' and 'CP' comment! You should quit your day job and do a comedy tour!
It is July 14th, and the citizens of France are rejoicing in their National Celebration which commemorates political unrest and a revolt against the crown! The Tour de France is in full form – and Ryan and Sandra are celebrating their wedding anniversary. I love Bastille Day! Fireworks will be set off from the Eiffel Tower – creating a spectacle of light and color that can be seen across Paris.
Okay – so I may be going a little overboard regarding Bastille Day – but it truly is one of the few holidays that Historians can celebrate which is not completely arbitrary.
I have officially moved into my new place. It still has no kitchen, no cable TV, and no internet – but I'll survive it. I can always watch the one DVD I have at the house or send mass text messages (which by the way, I have not done for several days! I am in a texting recovery program. *slight exaggeration* Thus far I have done very well!)
This morning, Ebie was so excited to go outside into her new backyard. Because there is no fence, I have to stand out there and watch her while she plays for a little while. She wore herself out at 7am by chasing a rabbit around and around and around the unattached garage. She was running so fast I was actually worried about catching her if she bolted out of the yard. Luckily for me – she preferred to just run around in circles. I don't know that she even had a clue that she was never going to catch that rabbit. It was Quick as a Bunny!
Once she had calmed down, Ebie followed me back into the house. She was surprised by the fact that she had to go into her kennel. She has grown used to being free in my parents' yard during the day. Oh well! She can use the discipline of the kennel. Before you start feeling too sorry for Elizabeth, 'Veggie Girl' is going to be at the house today and will let her outside to play for a little while. She is too spoiled as it is.
I am bloody tired today. It was a long weekend. I keep forgetting that I am not in my twenties anymore. Getting home at 5:30am is growing more difficult from which to recover. You'd think someone with insomnia, like me, would be used to functioning on very little sleep. Perhaps it's the vodka mixed with no sleep that knocks me flat. Oh, that is just silly talk!
Vodka is just like water – only flavored!
PERSONAL NOTE: Your little 'mouth' and 'smile' comment – well, it was almost as impressive as your 'slow texting' and 'CP' comment! You should quit your day job and do a comedy tour!
11 July 2008
I can see clearly now; the grime is gone
Yesterday, I changed my contacts – finally! I have 2-week extended daily wear disposable contacts. The pair I threw away yesterday had been in my eyes for 6 weeks. I wasn't even able to see out of them yesterday. It was like looking through a dirty window. Very gross!! One friend even had the kindness to say "you'll get an eye fungus." The thought of an eye fungus is no laughing matter – mushrooms sprouting from my cornea would be very unpleasant.
This morning – I woke up late to a ton of dog vomit at the end of the bed. And I LOVE to clean up dog vomit when I am running late for work. Hell, I LOVE cleaning it up any time. It is almost as fun as the liquid poo I was able to clean the previous two mornings. I think Ebie may have had a tummy ache. Just maybe, I mean, I am no vet – so I could be wrong. She may just like leaving me special surprises in the morning.
Anyway, I cleaned it up – then took her to doggy day care, where they immediately told me that she doesn't get her own "cabin" (a kind word for fenced in kennel) because she climbs the fence. Instead, she was locked up in the all glass "massage room", which made me think that they were going to whore out my dog. Thank goodness she is fixed. I don't need some unidentifiable breed of puppy to care for because my dog got knocked up at doggy day care.
But – now, I will drive across town, pick her up and delight in the fact that she is worn out AND freshly bathed. Tomorrow we move to our new house! YEA!!!! While it is true that the house has no working kitchen – or cable TV – it does have a bed, a functional bathroom, and a park across the street. So, we will delight in the little blessings. . .
PERSONAL NOTE: A big thank you goes out to one of my boys in San Diego for his very kind donation to the Breast Cancer 3-day!! So glad you don't break promises. xoxo -j
This morning – I woke up late to a ton of dog vomit at the end of the bed. And I LOVE to clean up dog vomit when I am running late for work. Hell, I LOVE cleaning it up any time. It is almost as fun as the liquid poo I was able to clean the previous two mornings. I think Ebie may have had a tummy ache. Just maybe, I mean, I am no vet – so I could be wrong. She may just like leaving me special surprises in the morning.
Anyway, I cleaned it up – then took her to doggy day care, where they immediately told me that she doesn't get her own "cabin" (a kind word for fenced in kennel) because she climbs the fence. Instead, she was locked up in the all glass "massage room", which made me think that they were going to whore out my dog. Thank goodness she is fixed. I don't need some unidentifiable breed of puppy to care for because my dog got knocked up at doggy day care.
But – now, I will drive across town, pick her up and delight in the fact that she is worn out AND freshly bathed. Tomorrow we move to our new house! YEA!!!! While it is true that the house has no working kitchen – or cable TV – it does have a bed, a functional bathroom, and a park across the street. So, we will delight in the little blessings. . .
PERSONAL NOTE: A big thank you goes out to one of my boys in San Diego for his very kind donation to the Breast Cancer 3-day!! So glad you don't break promises. xoxo -j
10 July 2008
This blog was brought to you by the letters P and T and the number 30
My new Physical Therapist turned 30 years old today. His name is Nicolai. Well, it isn’t actually; but for all practical purposes, we will call him that. Tuesday, he manipulated my back and neck muscles to the point that this morning, I was at a 6 on the 1 – 10 pain scale. My normal pain level has been around a 4 – so Nicolai was not on my “people I want to see” list. Still, I had a 7:30am PT appointment and I showed up at 7:20, like a responsible patient does. There were balloons and a big “Happy 30th Birthday” sign in the office. I asked the receptionist whose birthday it was and she told me that it was Nicolai’s. She also told me that his mom had told her that he used to carry a Big Bird around as a kid, so the girls in the office decided to get him a Big Bird.
When Nicolai walked in around 7:29am, he saw the Big Bird, walked out and asked the question, “Who talked to my mom?” I felt sorry for the guy. I mean, seriously, hard to be respected as a medical professional when your mom tells everyone about your unusual attachment to a giant yellow bird. I broke the tension by saying, “It wasn’t me; but Happy Birthday to you and your big yellow friend.” This comment was given some courtesy laughter by the peanut gallery – if not Nicolai.
I followed him into the therapy room where he told me to lie down on my back. I pointed out to him that I was wearing leggings under my skirt to avoid any awkward moments and he laughed. As soon as his hands touched my shoulders he knew that Tuesday’s manipulations had done a number on me. This meant that I got to be wrapped in a cocoon of heating pads before therapy could begin. Woo-hoo!
I love being wrapped in a heating pad cocoon. It is so warm and comfy. I was able to lie there for 15 minutes, just relaxing – then the timer went off and evil Nicolai came back in to torture my poor abused body. First he stole away the cocoon – then he manipulated muscles in my neck and shoulders that are not supposed to be touched by human hands. THEN – to top it all off, he warned me that I may be “sore later” and to feel free to put heat on it. Bloody Hell!
I guess instead of complaining, I should just be happy that a 30 year old man put his hands on me today.
By the way – there is an intern in our building who looks almost exactly like Prince Harry. I wonder if he’s 21.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: You can’t handle the truth!
When Nicolai walked in around 7:29am, he saw the Big Bird, walked out and asked the question, “Who talked to my mom?” I felt sorry for the guy. I mean, seriously, hard to be respected as a medical professional when your mom tells everyone about your unusual attachment to a giant yellow bird. I broke the tension by saying, “It wasn’t me; but Happy Birthday to you and your big yellow friend.” This comment was given some courtesy laughter by the peanut gallery – if not Nicolai.
I followed him into the therapy room where he told me to lie down on my back. I pointed out to him that I was wearing leggings under my skirt to avoid any awkward moments and he laughed. As soon as his hands touched my shoulders he knew that Tuesday’s manipulations had done a number on me. This meant that I got to be wrapped in a cocoon of heating pads before therapy could begin. Woo-hoo!
I love being wrapped in a heating pad cocoon. It is so warm and comfy. I was able to lie there for 15 minutes, just relaxing – then the timer went off and evil Nicolai came back in to torture my poor abused body. First he stole away the cocoon – then he manipulated muscles in my neck and shoulders that are not supposed to be touched by human hands. THEN – to top it all off, he warned me that I may be “sore later” and to feel free to put heat on it. Bloody Hell!
I guess instead of complaining, I should just be happy that a 30 year old man put his hands on me today.
By the way – there is an intern in our building who looks almost exactly like Prince Harry. I wonder if he’s 21.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: You can’t handle the truth!
It's 3am; I must be lonely
I don't know how lonely I really am; but I can tell you that it is a little after 3am CT, and I am awake -- wide awake. Bloody Hell! Elizabeth is restless and won't stop running around the room, which causes her harness and tags to make jingling noises. Gracie was soundly sleeping on the comforter until Ebie sauntered over and laid down right next to her. While it is sweet that she wants to cuddle up next to her 'sister'; she really is just making a nuisance of herself.
Tonight I worked at the studio! I am making wedding folders for the upcoming bridal fair. This means that I get to proofread all of the documents which will be in the folders that we pass out to brides. I enjoy this kind of work. Plus, I worked on a Mac - which served as a reminder that Drew Barrymore and Justin iMac Boy broke up. I thought they were really 'in love'. What will iMac boy do now? He has lost Drew -- and Die Hard 5 is not happening! I guess he'll have to just hope MS comes out with another crappy operating system which makes the iMac as coveted as the Holy Grail.
My main issue with working with Apple computers is the lack of a 'right click' button on the mouse. All evening, while I was working on editing jpg's and doc's and pdf's, I continued to "right click" when I wanted to copy/paste something -- and all evening, the screen would do really funky things because there is only one button on the mouse and I wouldn't stop pushing it. It was truly bordering on ridiculous by the time I closed down everything and went home.
Well - not really 'home' - since I am still living n Guest Room 1 at the Family Compound. And, not really 'home' - since I just went over to Charlie's on the Lake where my parents were eating dinner. I walked up to their table, enticed by two shrimp and a loaf of homemade bread. Looking back on it makes me blush with embarrassment. I sat down, took my mom's plate, ate the shrimp, then proceeded to tear off chunks of bread from the loaf, adding butter, and eating as if I have been starving for days. I ordered a diet cherry coke -- drank it, thanked my parents for the food, and walked out of the restaurant with a casual goodbye. So bizarre!
I have PT in a few hours -- so really should force myself to sleep. I hope that you are sleeping right now and not being forced to read this drivel as a form of entertainment.
Gross! My cat just sneezed on my foot.
PERSONAL NOTE: Bless you, Gracie! Next time, please use a kleenex.
Tonight I worked at the studio! I am making wedding folders for the upcoming bridal fair. This means that I get to proofread all of the documents which will be in the folders that we pass out to brides. I enjoy this kind of work. Plus, I worked on a Mac - which served as a reminder that Drew Barrymore and Justin iMac Boy broke up. I thought they were really 'in love'. What will iMac boy do now? He has lost Drew -- and Die Hard 5 is not happening! I guess he'll have to just hope MS comes out with another crappy operating system which makes the iMac as coveted as the Holy Grail.
My main issue with working with Apple computers is the lack of a 'right click' button on the mouse. All evening, while I was working on editing jpg's and doc's and pdf's, I continued to "right click" when I wanted to copy/paste something -- and all evening, the screen would do really funky things because there is only one button on the mouse and I wouldn't stop pushing it. It was truly bordering on ridiculous by the time I closed down everything and went home.
Well - not really 'home' - since I am still living n Guest Room 1 at the Family Compound. And, not really 'home' - since I just went over to Charlie's on the Lake where my parents were eating dinner. I walked up to their table, enticed by two shrimp and a loaf of homemade bread. Looking back on it makes me blush with embarrassment. I sat down, took my mom's plate, ate the shrimp, then proceeded to tear off chunks of bread from the loaf, adding butter, and eating as if I have been starving for days. I ordered a diet cherry coke -- drank it, thanked my parents for the food, and walked out of the restaurant with a casual goodbye. So bizarre!
I have PT in a few hours -- so really should force myself to sleep. I hope that you are sleeping right now and not being forced to read this drivel as a form of entertainment.
Gross! My cat just sneezed on my foot.
PERSONAL NOTE: Bless you, Gracie! Next time, please use a kleenex.
09 July 2008
Take the chapstick; put it on your lips
Were you to ask my friend, ‘Veggie Girl’, what my ‘crush’ type is, she would answer without pause: Girl Genius likes boys – young and pretty. She is right to an extent. They have to be of legal drinking age. I am not a cradle robber – geez! And they definitely have to be pretty. I don’t crush on boys who look like they’ve had a rough life experience. I also like them a little dorky looking – but in an ‘awww, he’s so sweet’ way! Think mid 90’s Weezer – not the stapler guy from Office Space.
Current crushes: Prince Harry; Ezra Koenig (of Vampire Weekend); Ashton Kutcher; Christian Bale; Zach Efron (in 4 months). Anyway – you get the picture.
In my long-term relationships, however, I have only chosen older (even if only by 6 months) and un-dorky. Okay – maybe that is not entirely true – but I have not committed to anyone younger than me. You see, there is a time and a place for commitment, and crushes are not the best choices – as the infatuation will most likely wane – (or he’ll try to wax philosophy with you and it takes all effort not to put your finger to his lips and say “Shhhh, you are just for pretty.”) Not that I would EVER say that to someone. Purely a hypothetical here, peeps!
This leads me to the inevitable question of “what type am I?” Personally, I see myself as the girl next door who is quirky – and always a ‘good friend’. Don’t misunderstand; I am well aware that everyone else sees me as a glamorous rockstar with boys beating down the door just to have a chance at being rejected by my amazing self. Still, I think a touch of modesty can be kind of sexy – so we’ll go with the belief that I am the quirky girl next door – use your imagination if you must!
So, it was with these thoughts that I told ‘surfer boy’ yesterday that everyone knows his type of girl and that he needn’t be ashamed of it. He tried to deny it and claimed that he had no ‘set type’ but he does. His protestations made me giggle aloud.
‘Veggie Girl’ likes intelligent, introspective men who are older. ‘Secret Crush Girl’ likes her men with a touch of chocolate. ‘Library Guy’ likes women who look like flower children and concert festival goers. The list goes on and on. We all have a ‘type’ – and most likely, we don’t deviate far from the ‘ideal’ when falling into the euphoria of infatuation. It’s why we like crushing on celebrities and royalty and interns. Because there is no emotional attachment – it’s just good, clean fun!
Luckily for me, and possibly for you, real love pushes the boundaries and melts away those silly typecasts . . . enabling us to see past the image and into the reality. But that topic is better saved for a later date.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: I told you so. . .
Current crushes: Prince Harry; Ezra Koenig (of Vampire Weekend); Ashton Kutcher; Christian Bale; Zach Efron (in 4 months). Anyway – you get the picture.
In my long-term relationships, however, I have only chosen older (even if only by 6 months) and un-dorky. Okay – maybe that is not entirely true – but I have not committed to anyone younger than me. You see, there is a time and a place for commitment, and crushes are not the best choices – as the infatuation will most likely wane – (or he’ll try to wax philosophy with you and it takes all effort not to put your finger to his lips and say “Shhhh, you are just for pretty.”) Not that I would EVER say that to someone. Purely a hypothetical here, peeps!
This leads me to the inevitable question of “what type am I?” Personally, I see myself as the girl next door who is quirky – and always a ‘good friend’. Don’t misunderstand; I am well aware that everyone else sees me as a glamorous rockstar with boys beating down the door just to have a chance at being rejected by my amazing self. Still, I think a touch of modesty can be kind of sexy – so we’ll go with the belief that I am the quirky girl next door – use your imagination if you must!
So, it was with these thoughts that I told ‘surfer boy’ yesterday that everyone knows his type of girl and that he needn’t be ashamed of it. He tried to deny it and claimed that he had no ‘set type’ but he does. His protestations made me giggle aloud.
‘Veggie Girl’ likes intelligent, introspective men who are older. ‘Secret Crush Girl’ likes her men with a touch of chocolate. ‘Library Guy’ likes women who look like flower children and concert festival goers. The list goes on and on. We all have a ‘type’ – and most likely, we don’t deviate far from the ‘ideal’ when falling into the euphoria of infatuation. It’s why we like crushing on celebrities and royalty and interns. Because there is no emotional attachment – it’s just good, clean fun!
Luckily for me, and possibly for you, real love pushes the boundaries and melts away those silly typecasts . . . enabling us to see past the image and into the reality. But that topic is better saved for a later date.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: I told you so. . .
08 July 2008
STOP! Wait a minute, Mr. Postman
I received a package in the mail last week that brought a smile to my face. As I tore into the yellow, padded envelope, I was giddy with anticipation. My face lit up as I saw the contents.
1. A ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ pot holder
2. An oven mitt with a recipe for “Texas Chili” printed on it
3. Several homemade note cards
4. A necklace made of seashells
5. Three Texas stickers
6. An unsharpened St. Patrick’s Day pencil
7. A lined Post-it note with a short message from a friend
To many people, these objects would seem peculiar or trivial. Those people didn’t receive the text message I did a few weeks ago. The text was a hint as to what would be arriving. It referenced the ridiculousness of someone in Ohio buying Texan gifts for her homesick friend who just moved to Nebraska. The gifts are perfect. I have the potholder and oven mitt hanging on my cubicle wall. The seashell necklace is on my desk, and the Texas stickers will be put to good use, I assure you. I have already sent out a couple of the note cards – so now it has been revealed that I did not create them. Oh well! Those who know me wouldn’t have believed I made them anyway.
There is a lesson behind this little storytelling session. People like to receive things in the mail. Mailed items are personal. *exceptions are bills, chain letters, marketing items, and unsolicited porn* Receiving a letter or note in the mail, even a short one, will make someone’s day. I know when I receive letters and cards in the mail; I prolong the anticipation by opening all of my bills, etc first. It is motivation to ‘take care of business’ before I sit down and enjoy the spoils of friendship.
I have maintained decade-long friendships thanks to letter-writing. I have friends with whom e-mail correspondence is almost obsolete, due to the lengthy letters we exchange through the mail. While it’s true that stamps are more costly than e-mail, I find the experience of letter-writing to be well worth the expense!
If you haven’t received any personal mail for a while, try sending a letter out and see what happens. Perhaps someone will be so touched by your gesture that they will return the favor.
Also, if you really cannot fathom spending money on stamps, just go to a work acquaintance and ask to borrow an envelope and a stamp. Then send your letter on their dime, per se. No one really expects you to pay them back for a stamp. I know this is true because even ‘B-Slow’ doesn’t feel obligated to pay me back for the stamp he borrowed – even after he bitched about how I stuck it on the envelope crookedly.
So, think of a stamp as a Kleenex – you say “Hey, can I borrow a stamp?” – but everyone realizes that you are really asking for someone else to foot the bill.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: Happy Birthday! Sorry I cannot be there to celebrate with you!
1. A ‘Don’t mess with Texas’ pot holder
2. An oven mitt with a recipe for “Texas Chili” printed on it
3. Several homemade note cards
4. A necklace made of seashells
5. Three Texas stickers
6. An unsharpened St. Patrick’s Day pencil
7. A lined Post-it note with a short message from a friend
To many people, these objects would seem peculiar or trivial. Those people didn’t receive the text message I did a few weeks ago. The text was a hint as to what would be arriving. It referenced the ridiculousness of someone in Ohio buying Texan gifts for her homesick friend who just moved to Nebraska. The gifts are perfect. I have the potholder and oven mitt hanging on my cubicle wall. The seashell necklace is on my desk, and the Texas stickers will be put to good use, I assure you. I have already sent out a couple of the note cards – so now it has been revealed that I did not create them. Oh well! Those who know me wouldn’t have believed I made them anyway.
There is a lesson behind this little storytelling session. People like to receive things in the mail. Mailed items are personal. *exceptions are bills, chain letters, marketing items, and unsolicited porn* Receiving a letter or note in the mail, even a short one, will make someone’s day. I know when I receive letters and cards in the mail; I prolong the anticipation by opening all of my bills, etc first. It is motivation to ‘take care of business’ before I sit down and enjoy the spoils of friendship.
I have maintained decade-long friendships thanks to letter-writing. I have friends with whom e-mail correspondence is almost obsolete, due to the lengthy letters we exchange through the mail. While it’s true that stamps are more costly than e-mail, I find the experience of letter-writing to be well worth the expense!
If you haven’t received any personal mail for a while, try sending a letter out and see what happens. Perhaps someone will be so touched by your gesture that they will return the favor.
Also, if you really cannot fathom spending money on stamps, just go to a work acquaintance and ask to borrow an envelope and a stamp. Then send your letter on their dime, per se. No one really expects you to pay them back for a stamp. I know this is true because even ‘B-Slow’ doesn’t feel obligated to pay me back for the stamp he borrowed – even after he bitched about how I stuck it on the envelope crookedly.
So, think of a stamp as a Kleenex – you say “Hey, can I borrow a stamp?” – but everyone realizes that you are really asking for someone else to foot the bill.
PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: Happy Birthday! Sorry I cannot be there to celebrate with you!
07 July 2008
a Montage
What a weekend. . .
Instead of recapping everything in detailed storytelling – I think I will share the tidbits of interest (things said, done, overheard, etc) and you can use logical reasoning or good ol' imagination to fill in the blanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Yea, a parade. . .and a water cannon. . . and bagels.
"Sorry to wake you up . . . I need to borrow some shorts and I don't know how to turn the light off"
This really is the best neighborhood bar ever. And Johnny is cool – in a weird sort of way. Plus, his wife just kissed me on my cheek. We are like family now.
'Goal! Goal! Goal!'
'Seriously, why do you keep slapping my a$$?'
'I just totally stole Vampire Weekend off your iTunes'
'Mom, I made it safe.'
"So, how do y'all know eachother?"
"Well, he and I met in jail, and they've been friends since they were kids."
'There goes Cool Dude! Damn, that guy is so awesome and smiley.'
"Even drunk I can play soccer better than all of y'all.. . . and I am so going to kick your ass."
'Jillian, you really are funny. *said with surprise*'
I am so stuck in the 90's – this band rocks!
Um, I am sure you should turn here. This looks really familiar. *laughing*
mile marker 175. . . mile marker 176. . .
"Do not call me Miss Cheshire Cat. And put those sunglasses back on."
Thanks to my uncontrollable fidginess, your baby boy is actually asleep and there is silence. Enjoy it!
"Seriously, can I take the red head little boy home to Nebraska? I'll be a good mother to him."
"Take two, there are plenty of kids around."
'It's okay, honey. *cringe*'
"I'm getting killed out there."
"No, baby, you are doing fine."
"What the f*@ was that?"
*he looks*
"Jillian, why would you say that?"
*laughter*
"Damn, you are hot!"
"Awww, you're so sweet."
"I hate all of you! . . . Okay, I really love y'all!"
"20 seconds? Is that even possible?. . . I was drunk when I said that, I'm sure."
"I thought he was gay. Otherwise I wouldn't have kept talking to him."
"Yes, the tattoo is real."
"Thanks for letting me crash"
Bloody Texas heat!
MacGruber!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hugs for everyone
"You're Irish. You should do the Irish goodbye."
Are you still here?
"I love you." *pause* *pause*
"I love you too"
Say Cheese!
I had to sleep with your husband -- I wanted cocoa babies.
Why do I keep putting the babies on the floor?
Where is the nanny?
I want those striped chairs in the library.
She looks just like me.
Give the gypsy bitch $5,000 -- i want a good mate.
End the date!
Hire a maid!
"Are you sure it isn't like when you thought I was a Nazi?"
"I am sure. He is a freak."
"I mean. . ."
"Listen to this voice mail."
LOL "yeah, he is a stalker freak."
My sleep pattern is all jacked up!
Instead of recapping everything in detailed storytelling – I think I will share the tidbits of interest (things said, done, overheard, etc) and you can use logical reasoning or good ol' imagination to fill in the blanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Yea, a parade. . .and a water cannon. . . and bagels.
"Sorry to wake you up . . . I need to borrow some shorts and I don't know how to turn the light off"
This really is the best neighborhood bar ever. And Johnny is cool – in a weird sort of way. Plus, his wife just kissed me on my cheek. We are like family now.
'Goal! Goal! Goal!'
'Seriously, why do you keep slapping my a$$?'
'I just totally stole Vampire Weekend off your iTunes'
'Mom, I made it safe.'
"So, how do y'all know eachother?"
"Well, he and I met in jail, and they've been friends since they were kids."
'There goes Cool Dude! Damn, that guy is so awesome and smiley.'
"Even drunk I can play soccer better than all of y'all.. . . and I am so going to kick your ass."
'Jillian, you really are funny. *said with surprise*'
I am so stuck in the 90's – this band rocks!
Um, I am sure you should turn here. This looks really familiar. *laughing*
mile marker 175. . . mile marker 176. . .
"Do not call me Miss Cheshire Cat. And put those sunglasses back on."
Thanks to my uncontrollable fidginess, your baby boy is actually asleep and there is silence. Enjoy it!
"Seriously, can I take the red head little boy home to Nebraska? I'll be a good mother to him."
"Take two, there are plenty of kids around."
'It's okay, honey. *cringe*'
"I'm getting killed out there."
"No, baby, you are doing fine."
"What the f*@ was that?"
*he looks*
"Jillian, why would you say that?"
*laughter*
"Damn, you are hot!"
"Awww, you're so sweet."
"I hate all of you! . . . Okay, I really love y'all!"
"20 seconds? Is that even possible?. . . I was drunk when I said that, I'm sure."
"I thought he was gay. Otherwise I wouldn't have kept talking to him."
"Yes, the tattoo is real."
"Thanks for letting me crash"
Bloody Texas heat!
MacGruber!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hugs for everyone
"You're Irish. You should do the Irish goodbye."
Are you still here?
"I love you." *pause* *pause*
"I love you too"
Say Cheese!
I had to sleep with your husband -- I wanted cocoa babies.
Why do I keep putting the babies on the floor?
Where is the nanny?
I want those striped chairs in the library.
She looks just like me.
Give the gypsy bitch $5,000 -- i want a good mate.
End the date!
Hire a maid!
"Are you sure it isn't like when you thought I was a Nazi?"
"I am sure. He is a freak."
"I mean. . ."
"Listen to this voice mail."
LOL "yeah, he is a stalker freak."
My sleep pattern is all jacked up!
01 July 2008
Help! My Soul Mate is Stalking Me!
First off – my soul mate is not stalking me. The title is a little misleading; sorry about that. I have been unsure as to which direction this conversation should be taken. Do I want to start off with a serious discussion of soul mates or do I want to start off with crazy stalker people?
I have been receiving a plethora of text messages from a guy we’ll call “Country Boy”. We’ll call him that because that is how he signs his texts. He has a real name – but it escapes me. ‘Country Boy’ is a good lookin’ kid – early twenties, in shape, an intense look in his eyes (which is far better than the vacant stare most twenty-somethings have). Luckily for me – I am not the object of Country Boy’s affections. Someone close to me is. Apparently, when I told him, ‘look, she is never in a million years going to be into you. You’re a good looking guy – you need to focus your attention elsewhere. You are kind of creeping her out with your declarations.’ what I meant was, ‘Text me lots and tell me how much you like her so that I will convince her to give up her boyfriend and go to you, the obviously stable, non-stalker’. This poor boy is convinced that he is her SOUL MATE! I am convinced he is an eejit! And she is convinced that he is a crazy person! And since perception is reality, it is safe to say that, soul mate or not, he is a crazy eejit!
I have done nothing to encourage these text messages – so now they are accompanied by the overused line ‘Please stop ignoring me. I need a friend right now.’ He may need a friend; but I am not it. I don’t even know the guy well enough to remember his first name. Plus, anyone who stalks someone he doesn’t know in order to use her to stalk someone he does – well, that is just too ambitious for me.
I thought this whole ‘soul mate’ mess was limited to those under the age of 22 – but I was wrong. Because I received a call of desperation from someone over the age of 22 the other day. ‘Girl Genius, I need your input. Have you ever been told that you are someone’s soul mate and you just don’t feel the same way?’
I paused. In my head I was thinking about all the boys I have thought were my soul mate. Bloody Hell – that many??? Really??? I am lucky I haven’t been committed. Alright, focus and respond – ‘Oh, no. . . did that happen to you?’
‘This girl called and started laying into me because I refuse to acknowledge that she is my soul mate.’
‘She did what?’
He repeated himself and added some more key facts. I had to concentrate at not laughing. This was not college or high school. This was a real adult woman telling an adult male that he’s an a$$ because he won’t propose, get married, and have babies with her, when they are obviously soul mates! They are not even dating. They are platonic friends! Purely platonic, he swore!
Now, I see where she is coming from. He’s an amazing guy – and she is obviously enamoured with him. But – again, I must reiterate (deliberate redundancy) that anyone over the age of 22 should not declare ‘soul mate’ status until it can be agreed upon. Even then, it is dangerous ground to tread and should be treated with care. I didn’t have any real advice for him – so I said that he just needs to be honest with her -- that he loves her but isn’t in love with her; they are just friends; it’s not her, it’s him; blah blah.
Hopefully she won’t end up being like ‘Rose’ in the show ‘Two and a Half Men’. CREEPY!
All of these people talking about soul mates have me in a quandary. I used to have faith in the existence of ‘soul mates’. I even included a reference to the concept in my second set of wedding vows. (That worked out well) I want to believe that there is someone out there for me – someone that was designed by the creator with me in mind. I don’t really know that it's true, though. It seems a little too contrived.
Instead, I like to believe that our souls recognize other kindred souls. Perhaps they are ‘old friends and lovers’ from lifetimes past – I am not sure. All I know is that there are people I have met who resonated truth and familiarity within my core being. And those people have been my ‘soul mates’. Our connections are so very limited in this world. When I find a person like this, I do my best to learn and experience as much as I can with them – before our paths are diverted and we must separate.
And then, even when they are absent from our every day physical lives, we can sense their everlasting presence within.
That being said, stalking over the age of 22 is still creepy.
PERSONAL NOTE TO MY SOUL MATES: I love you in a non-creepy way!
I have been receiving a plethora of text messages from a guy we’ll call “Country Boy”. We’ll call him that because that is how he signs his texts. He has a real name – but it escapes me. ‘Country Boy’ is a good lookin’ kid – early twenties, in shape, an intense look in his eyes (which is far better than the vacant stare most twenty-somethings have). Luckily for me – I am not the object of Country Boy’s affections. Someone close to me is. Apparently, when I told him, ‘look, she is never in a million years going to be into you. You’re a good looking guy – you need to focus your attention elsewhere. You are kind of creeping her out with your declarations.’ what I meant was, ‘Text me lots and tell me how much you like her so that I will convince her to give up her boyfriend and go to you, the obviously stable, non-stalker’. This poor boy is convinced that he is her SOUL MATE! I am convinced he is an eejit! And she is convinced that he is a crazy person! And since perception is reality, it is safe to say that, soul mate or not, he is a crazy eejit!
I have done nothing to encourage these text messages – so now they are accompanied by the overused line ‘Please stop ignoring me. I need a friend right now.’ He may need a friend; but I am not it. I don’t even know the guy well enough to remember his first name. Plus, anyone who stalks someone he doesn’t know in order to use her to stalk someone he does – well, that is just too ambitious for me.
I thought this whole ‘soul mate’ mess was limited to those under the age of 22 – but I was wrong. Because I received a call of desperation from someone over the age of 22 the other day. ‘Girl Genius, I need your input. Have you ever been told that you are someone’s soul mate and you just don’t feel the same way?’
I paused. In my head I was thinking about all the boys I have thought were my soul mate. Bloody Hell – that many??? Really??? I am lucky I haven’t been committed. Alright, focus and respond – ‘Oh, no. . . did that happen to you?’
‘This girl called and started laying into me because I refuse to acknowledge that she is my soul mate.’
‘She did what?’
He repeated himself and added some more key facts. I had to concentrate at not laughing. This was not college or high school. This was a real adult woman telling an adult male that he’s an a$$ because he won’t propose, get married, and have babies with her, when they are obviously soul mates! They are not even dating. They are platonic friends! Purely platonic, he swore!
Now, I see where she is coming from. He’s an amazing guy – and she is obviously enamoured with him. But – again, I must reiterate (deliberate redundancy) that anyone over the age of 22 should not declare ‘soul mate’ status until it can be agreed upon. Even then, it is dangerous ground to tread and should be treated with care. I didn’t have any real advice for him – so I said that he just needs to be honest with her -- that he loves her but isn’t in love with her; they are just friends; it’s not her, it’s him; blah blah.
Hopefully she won’t end up being like ‘Rose’ in the show ‘Two and a Half Men’. CREEPY!
All of these people talking about soul mates have me in a quandary. I used to have faith in the existence of ‘soul mates’. I even included a reference to the concept in my second set of wedding vows. (That worked out well) I want to believe that there is someone out there for me – someone that was designed by the creator with me in mind. I don’t really know that it's true, though. It seems a little too contrived.
Instead, I like to believe that our souls recognize other kindred souls. Perhaps they are ‘old friends and lovers’ from lifetimes past – I am not sure. All I know is that there are people I have met who resonated truth and familiarity within my core being. And those people have been my ‘soul mates’. Our connections are so very limited in this world. When I find a person like this, I do my best to learn and experience as much as I can with them – before our paths are diverted and we must separate.
And then, even when they are absent from our every day physical lives, we can sense their everlasting presence within.
That being said, stalking over the age of 22 is still creepy.
PERSONAL NOTE TO MY SOUL MATES: I love you in a non-creepy way!
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