Thursday, June 30, 2005

I think I have a tumor...

I keep feeling like today is Friday. That's a sign of a brain tumor, right?

It's freaking me out.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

I love "Friends"...

Rachel: It's an English trifle! It has a layer of ladyfingers, and then a layer of jam, and then a layer of custard - which I made from scratch! And then there's another layer of ladyfingers, and then a layer of beef sauteed with peas and onions, and then a layer of bananas, and another layer of custard, and then I just put some whipped cream on top!

Ross: What did you say was before the layer of bananas?

Rachel: Yeah, the beef? I thought that was strange, too. But you know, the English eat some very weird things sometimes...

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

All Beastie Boys, ALL THE FRICKEN TIME!!

Well, that was short-lived. Remember my post on 6/1/05 that was an open letter to my local alternative station, 96.5 the Buzz? About how they play the Beastie Boys waaaahaaaay too fucking much? Well, we had a well-deserved respite from them for about 2 weeks after that letter (not that my post had anything to do with it, but it was awfully coincidental, I thought). And then it started building up again to the point where I was turning off my radio about 3 times throughout the day at work because they were playing them again, and now we're back up to full Beastie Boys speed. I've turned my radio off and then back on again a few minutes later a total of 6 times today due to their Beastie Boys overdosing. And it's only 2:30 p.m.

You know, guys, the ratings issue that y'all have might just have something to do with the fact that you play the same shit over and over again a good amount of the time. I'm just sayin'...

Looking up

Things are still weird around the office. I still can't go into details...I just wanna be careful of what I say on this one, to be honest. But basically, my little work family is falling apart a bit, and it hurts like hell. I was very angry and sad and mixed up in the head about it yesterday. It led to emotional eating of McDonald's for lunch, and several pieces of bread for dinner (AFTER I'd already eaten my salad!), and that pisses me off. Because I am not usually an emotional eater, that I've noticed. But I did take note of the fact that yesterday, when all hell started to break loose, I got a muffin for a snack, wanted McDonald's hamburgers for lunch, and was quite prepared to eat my house for dinner. It was weird.

Anyway, thought about it all a LOT (woke up at 3:30 a.m. this morning, unable to go back to sleep...), and decided to write a note to the Boss and ask him for a raise. I'm having to do twice the amount of shit I did just 6 months ago, and I think I'm doing a kick-ass job of it. I've been in this position for over 3.5 years, and have over 8 years of total experience as an admin. I asked him for a promotion to the next level of admin assistant with the company (that's right...we have different levels for the admins. Goes from 1 - 4. I am currently a 2, and I wanna be a 3...), and for a few more dollars annually. He wrote back that he thinks my request is fair, and he's going to his boss about it next week. (His boss is currently at a company sponsored meeting in a tropical paradise. Yeah...I think the company can afford to pay me a few extra dollars that I want...) I told him that I'd like it to start as of August 1.

So today is looking a bit better. It's surprising what a big difference it makes in my mood after having written that e-mail asking for what I think I deserve, and then having the response be so favorable. Things still suck a lot, but I'm going to have to figure out how to get through it, and just deal. I don't want emotional issues to effect my work day. So I'm trying to keep doing what I do best, which is to keep multi-tasking my ASS off, and to give people the answers they need for their questions, and to train the new managers, and to deal with the expense reports that are passing across my desk, and to gather the info I need in order to hire the new employees, and to stop world hunger, and spread the vision of world peace to every country on the planet.

So if you'll pardon me now, I have quite a bit on my plate that I need to address. Ta for now!

Monday, June 27, 2005

The time has come...

This was one of the shittiest days on record for me. Can't talk about the specifics, but know that I will (specifically) be going to get a salad from the super market to take home where I will (specifically) be sitting on my floor, watching t.v., crying intermittently.

Or maybe I'm all cried out at this point. I don't know. Work sucks. I wanna win the lottery. Good night Irene...

Heaven knows I'm miserable now...

Why can't I get through a single first date without the topic of me not wanting children being brought up? Huh? Why? GAH! I even saw it coming this time, and tried to steer away from it. But nothing doing. The boy wanted to know if I plan on not having children, and then he asked me what I'd do if I got pregnant. Nooo! Nooooo! I want you to kiss my face later! PLEASE don't ask me these questions!

Oh well. I got him sufficiently drunk enough so that he kissed my face anyway. :) (And I'm kidding, of course...he wanted to kiss my face even without the alcohol in him. Because I'm adorable as hell, I am.)

(Oh, and the answer to the question of what I would do if I got prego is answered thusly: (a) I'd freak the FUCK out. (b) I'd put out an add for a nanny, pronto. And (c) I'd freak out a bit more. I cannot give a child up for adoption, especially if the daddy would want it. And I'm against abortion for myself, so that's right out. I'm really hoping that God has been hearing my prayers all these years to just make me sterile, and give some deserving woman my reproductivity. The date laughed when I said that I'd hire a nanny. I wasn't trying to be funny. I cannot be a mom to a child. I can be a friend, and I can probably discipline a child well enough, I'd think. But I can't be a mom. Besides, the nanny thing was done for several centuries prior to now, and it worked just fine. All upper-middle class households had mommies that went and did their thing, and the children hung out with their nanny all day, and just visited mommy and daddy at certain times when they were allowed to do so. Somehow, the world continued to turn with that arrangement, so I'd figure that's what would work best for me, should I become inexplicably and irrevocably prego.)

The date went well, I'm happy to say. And he called me last night, which was nice. Especially because I was sitting next to Dave and his newest conquest at the bar when it happened, and I had been telling them both about my date the night before, and how well I thought it had gone. So it was nice that he called right then. They even congratulated me when I told them that it had been him, seeing it as a good sign that he had said he was going to call, and then he actually did call. (Because you all know how boys can be...and I hate it when someone says they'll call, and then they don't. Bugs the shit out of me...) He said he'd probably call me again tonight "to bug [me] some more."

(Psst...don't say anything, but I think he really likes my big boobies. Oh yeah...they've done their job this time. It's nice when the pain-in-the-ass-big-rack actually is seen as a positive quality now and then. Woo!)

I didn't sleep with him, though. I was good. I sent him home at about 3:30 a.m. I find that it works really well for me to be on my P when I have a first date with someone. Keeps me on the good girl side of things, fo sho.

I've been openly discussing the "dry-spell" issue with people lately, and found that it's a fun topic for most people to talk about. My longest dry-spell lasted a little over 4 years. When I was in my mid-20's. And that freaks some people out. Well, it doesn't really "freak them out", I guess, so much as it makes them go, "HUH? How did you do that? And why? And, oh my God, I just can't even process that information, it's so unbelievably ridiculous!" But it just happened. I mean, I had a boyfriend that died right in the middle of me falling in love with him, and that sucked. (Today is the anniversary of his death, by the way. Hello sweet Dan!) And then Mom got sick, and the next 10 months of watching her die pretty much did my heart in for a while. And then I got busy with work, and just didn't even think about men, really. Also, losing a boyfriend as suddenly as I did can really fuck with your brain. I used to stare out the window at my office, and wait to see him being dropped back down to earth, as I knew that God was aware He had made a mistake taking him from me when He did, and that He was going to give him back to me because I wanted it to happen just that much. Of course, he's never been dropped back down to earth, but that fantasy (which I've heard from other people is a quite common one...) didn't leave my head for a full 2 years after Dan died. It still creeps back into my brain every now and then, even.

Anyway, I had a long spell there because it just wasn't time for me to be out and dating and being with a boyfriend, it seems. Men that I meet cannot understand this length of time I went without sex. Dave said that his longest has been a few months, tops. His new chicky said her's was a year and a half. The cutie-patootie bartender at the Moose last night said that his max thus far has been maybe a month or a month and a half. Right now, I'm at 4 months, because it's been since Dickhead moved to Northern Cali, and left me without a fuck-buddy to call my own. I think the date I went out with on Saturday said that his was 2 years.

So I wanna hear about more dry-spells. Tell me if I'm the Queen of Dry-Spells, will ya? I mean, think about it: 4 looooonnng years without sex. In my mid-20's!! That's just fucking amazing, when you put your brain to it. What's the longest you've gone? I'll be checking back regularly for your comments! Right now, it's back to work I go...

Friday, June 24, 2005

Angry tummy...

Auugghhh. Bleh. And all that good stuff. I am hungover this morning. I'm starting to pull out of it, now that I've had a bit to eat, and had a large iced tea from McDonald's (which is part of the Surefire Hangover Remedy that I learned long ago from the big sis...). I had a few beers with my friends at the Moose last night, and then I went home and had a few more drinks before going to bed. (Sorry for the drunken e-mails, Sporty! Hope they weren't too stupid...)

The main problem is that I didn't have anything to eat. But I really wasn't hungry, so the thought didn't even cross my mind. Oh well! Live and learn.

Tonight, I get my hair colored and cut, finally. Tomorrow, I have a date with a new guy. Sunday, I have a lawn to mow and a backyard to tame. It's going to be an exciting weekend, y'all. Woot! (Ouch! Ugh...)

Thursday, June 23, 2005

Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!...

Happy birthday, momma. Miss you tons and tons. :)

(The funny thing is, I can hear your voice singing "Happy Birthday" in my head right now. God, how I miss the way you did that every year! Good thing you did do it, though...I like the memories of hearing your voice singing me "Happy Birthday" over the phone, and immitating Miss Piggy when you read a book about the Muppets, and even the way you sounded when you were clearly fed up with my bullshit. I think I sound a little bit like you, even. And that's nice. I can't believe you've been gone for 7 years. Hope that you guys are throwing one HELL (get it? Ha!) of a party up there for your birthday today!)

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Let me apologize in advance...

Ok, so you have a problem in the digestion area, and you simply cannot make it home to take care of business the way you'd probably prefer to do. You head to the shared ladies' room on your floor in your office building, and you proceded with the business your body is throwing down. In doing so, you manage to splatter shit on the toilet sucks, but it's happened. (Although I can't say it's ever happened to meeee, but whatev.) So what do you do? Do you:

(A) Walk away, ignoring the fact that you've muddied the seat, and give a flying shit (heh) less that it's a public restroom, and someone else might need to use this toilet sometime soon.

(B) Clean it up, knowing that someone else might need to use this toilet soon.

(C) Walk away, return to your office and call the management office to say that "someone" has left a mess in a certain stall in the ladies' room on your floor, and it should probably be cleaned up.

(D) Both B and C, knowing that clean up of said mess might take away certain evidence that the problem occurred, but the germs will remain behind, and should be cleaned with industrial cleaner.

I know I've said it before, and I will continue to say it when it comes to mind...where do these heathans come from that think it's ok to leave a mess like that in a public restroom of an office building, and not do something about it? Goddammit, it's disgusting! (And I bet they don't even wash their hands after doing it, either.. *shudders!*)

Today's the day...

I'm crampy, tired, bloated, and I feel like my bladder is the size of a pea. (Heh.)

Steer clear, world. You do not want to be a person that irritates me today. So far, I haven't had a problem with anyone yet. OH! I take that back. Some chick I wrote an e-mail to on the 9th of June (for those of us keeping count, that was two weeks ago tomorrow) wrote me back finally to answer my question last night. Yeah, I didn't let that one go. I told her that I had already gone looking for help elsewhere since she never responded to me, and that I had a question that needed to be answered much earlier in the month than this, thankyouverymuch. Dumbass. I can understand if she was on vacation, or something. But that's what the out of office auto-reply is for!

At least my bowel seems to have settled down a bit today. Yesterday, it was all out of whack. I was full of air for no reason, and it was really irritating. I chalked it up to PMS, and it seemed to be just that. Yay. (Bleh.)

I found a ladybug in my house this was under my glass cutting board that I keep on my counter to the left of my kitchen sink. I thought it might be a little roach when I first saw it through the glass, but when I peered under the glass, I saw it was actually just a large ladybug. It was all confused, and wouldn't get on the piece of paper I was trying to help it onto. I think it was an older ladybug, or something. It had a LOT of spots, but I don't know if that indicates age for a ladybug, or what. I finally was able to escort it outside after it had crawled into the palm of my hand from the paper I'd put it on initially. I let it crawl onto a leaf of the shrub that's right outside my front door, and I hope it flew away to someplace that was familiar to it after I went back in the house.

Why is it that I don't mind a ladybug crawling on me, but the thought of holding a spider just freaks me out? I think it might be because spiders are so very speedy when they want to be, but ladybugs, no matter how fast they move their little legs, can't move that quickly in comparison. But that's just a theory.

And I was gonna say something else, but I can't remember what it was right now. Did I mention that I'm really quite tired? Maybe I need some caffeine...I'll give that a go, and hopefully, that'll keep me from falling asleep at my desk today. Buh-bye...

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Let's all bow our heads now...

Lord, give me the strength I need to get through this day. The strength to not throw a very hard, solid object at my computer screen to shatter it into bits. The strength to not tell people who are asking me lame questions that they can fuck right off. The strength to recognize the fact that I cannot change my new boss's attitude toward my old boss, and if he's going to hire someone to replace him, it shouldn't make a difference to me, and I shouldn't quit my job over it. The strength to be able to sit here in my boiling hot office later today and NOT lose my mind once the thermometer reaches a very muggy 90 (feels like 98) degrees outside.

But most of all, Lord, I would like the strength to keep from sending a very quick, bad e-mail to every employee I have to work with in which I tell them that they're all fuck heads, that I'm tired of being the only responsible one who apparently actually reads the e-mails that are sent to her, and who digests the info accordingly through her brain, and if I get any more stupid questions asking for help, I'm ignoring them. Because I haven't yet won the lottery, Lord. So I can't do that sort of thing, unfortunately. So I need strength. I need power. I need my brain to work in my favor today, please. I'm sure it's just a nasty case of PMS rearing it's ugliness (oh, and thanks for the zit the size of my eye on my forehead today. It only hurts about as much as it might to pass a kidney stone, so I appreciate your mercy on that...), so if I can just muddle through the next 3 or 4 days in as quiet a manner as possible, it will be best for all those around me. Be with me, Lord. And for heaven's sake, watch over all those that I come into contact with, because I'm sort of worried for their safety.


Monday, June 20, 2005

A poet's soul bursts from my fingers...

When I was in high school, I struggled through certain classes each semester knowing that it would all pay off someday. Sophomore year, I had a hard time with biology in the first semester. Second semester, I had a hard time with French. Junior year, first semester it was chemistry. Second semester, it was geometry. Senior year, it all started to fall apart, but I started my day with a jewelry class that made me happy. Too bad I had a really hard history class to start off the second half of my day after lunch. Then I dropped out during my second semester, and joined the Twin at the independent study school we both graduated from. Class of 1992. There were 3 of us that graduated that day.

The first semester of my senior year also had a particularly hard English class that I wound up hating with all my heart. Poetry. It was taught by the assistant fucking football coach, who also happened to be the coach of the varsity soccer team. In his spare time, he decided whether my poems were complete crap or not. I wasn't good at writing poetry, I admit. I much preferred to read it, and try to analyze it as a group in class. I used to write little poems in cards that I made for parents and grandparents every now and then for a Christmas or birthday card. A poem I wrote for my grandfather on his birthday many years ago made it to a book that my great aunt put together that traced a bit of the family line. She handed some copies of the book out to our different families during a reunion of some kind many years later, and I blushed to see my poem had been included. I felt like I'd done something right...turned out my grandpa really loved that poem I'd written.

Anyway, my true love, subject-wise, has always been, and always will be English. English Literature, to be exact. I could never dream to write as well as the favorite authors I've poured over much of my life, but their books took me to a world where my chubbiness was a shared torture, or where Nancy was seeking the truth behind another mystery. Later on, that world was opened to turn of the century New York as seen by Edith Wharton, and even further back to the moores of England where the Brontes showed me what it really was like to yearn for independence and personal strength while still pining to be with a brooding, yet sensitive man that needed the love of her heroins.

And then I discovered Jane. Oh, Jane...we could have been best friends, I'm sure. I'm not sure which Austen story I love the most, but I lean towards "Emma", since it's how I like to see myself as being. I'm still waiting for my Mr. Knightly to come along. :) (Of course, I'm a bit more over the hill than Emma was by the time she and Knightly discovered their love for each other. But that doesn't matter much to me...)

I could never imagine being a writer that might ever have any sort of an audience. I often think about how cool it would be to be an author who, like Dickens, could have a whole city of people waiting on the shore for the boat to show up with the next installment of the story that's being written. Of course, we've come too far for that these days. Now we can visit sites like 63 Days, hoping that she's written the next installment of the story that is so haunting and terrible, and we can't wait to see how it all ends. And here I am, writing about my days. My boring days, and my silly days. The crazy dates I go on now and then, and the boys who break my heart over and over and over. Frightening days at work; troubled times with my family. My hopes and dreams of breaking into a profession that will make me happy and finally give me some sort of fulfillment. And it seems like I've found a little audience! More than I ever dreamed, really.

I like this thing called "blogging". I like that I can put all my shit out there, whatever it may be, and have some people enjoy it for what it is. I never imagined that I'd ever be able to make people laugh, or maybe make people wonder at where my head might be sometimes. I never thought that I could tell random people about the "characters" I run into now and then. The Twin. Asshole. Dickhead. Dave. Countless coworkers, both good and bad. Even the fucking squirrels! It's all an ever-expanding script of the world that I live in. And I'm so, soooo glad that I have people who like hearing about it.

And how grateful I am that I'm not alone! I never thought I'd make friends like I have through such a random medium. But I feel like I know many of you, because you do what I do. You tell me about your world and I know the characters you encounter, and it's because you're willing to put it out there for me to read. Lushy, Lyn, GFI, Sporty, Joelle, Mikey, Sheri, Ms. Pants, Jason Mulgrew....and so many others that I'm just starting to get to know. (Spoonleg, HDL, Maine, guys are my fave newbies!) And others that I wish I could know a bit more personally, like Heather at Dooce, and Natalie over at Fricative. Not for any reason except to let them know that I admire them, and I LOVE their blogs.

Anyway, I've been meditating on this here bloggy activity of mine for the past couple of days/hours, and have come to the conclusion that it's definitely a good thing for me right now. And whether I get sick of it in a year or 2 years or 10, I'll be grateful for what it's given me in the meantime forever. My chance to do what I've always wanted to do, which is to speak freely, have a little audience that appreciates it, and to keep on moving through my life as happily as I can.

From "Solitude", by Alexander Pope

Blest, who can unconcernedly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind;
Quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixed, sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

The Case of the Missing Sunglasses

Weird thing happened this morning. I found a pair of sunglasses that I left at my Dad's house (in Cali, mind you) in my purse when I started out of my garage to head to work. At least, I thought I'd left them at Dad's. When I was home for Christmas. Which was 6 months ago.

Isn't that a bit odd? I didn't even own the purse that I carry now when I was home at Christmas. Also, I left them there. I'm sure of it. I had to go buy new ones as soon as I got back into town, since my eyes were ready to burst into little flames due to the sun exposure. (I have really sensitive eyes...)

But this morning, I reached into my purse, and pulled out my sunglasses, and then I stared at them for about 20 seconds, was weird. And then I reached back into my purse, and found my other pair that I've been wearing since Christmas, because the other ones were freaking me out. Seriously.

I have no other explanation for the sunglasses being in my purse as they were this morning. They weren't in there on Saturday. And yesterday, I was in my house all day long, except when I went to the supermarket to grab a salad. And I left my purse in the car when I went in the store, so it wasn't like some lady accidentally put her sunglasses into my bag, or that I grabbed someone else's pair off the check-out counter, or whatever. Plus, they're my old pair of sunglasses. So, really, it's not like they could be anyone else's that accidentally got placed in my purse.

So I'm a little bit freaked out by that today. And now I have to go make travel arrangements for my boss, since he's an eternal pain in my ass, and now he needs to go to St. Louis tomorrow, for some reason. Is it bad that I hope I can't find space at any hotel except for a Howard Johnson's or something? I'm just so very sick and tired of his last minute changes. Honestly...they just seem completely unneccesary. And he had stopped doing shit like this for the past couple of months, so I was hoping we were over that attitude. But I guess not. Dammit...

Friday, June 17, 2005

Not to be rude but, end of day? Can you hurry it up a bit, please?

The day is crawling by. I've called the Twin twice, I've read everything on the internet 8 times, I have little bits of work to do here and there, but for the most part, it's definitely clear that it's a Friday and everyone is out of the office except for a select few of us. I want to goooooooo!

For the record, don't ever call an office looking for someone, and then when you find out they aren't there, ask the receptionist/phone answerer, "Do you think they'll be back around 10?"** Um, I tend to leave my crystal ball at home when I come to work, as I don't want it to get all scratched up in the ride to and from work in my car, and it just seems to lose some of it's power when I bring it away from it's home. So unfortunately, I can't really be all that psychic once I get here, much to my chagrin. How the FUCK am I supposed to know when someone might be in? Even if they tell me what appointments they have, they might talk longer than expected, they might pop a tire on their way here, they might decide to stop and play with a ball of string in the park on their way back to the fucking office. How the fuck should I know? I DON'T, ok?

**I think it's ok to ask this question if you are related to the person you are calling for, and you know the person who answers the phone relatively well, either by conversations you've previously had on the phone with them before, or from work parties you've gone to, etc...When I call my dad's office looking for him, I can ask if they have any idea when he'll be back in if he's out, or when they think he might be off the line, because I know they've all been working there for a gazillion years, and they not only know how my dad can be when he's talking on the phone, but they also know how the people he's talking to can be. I, for example, have been working with my one boss for over 3 years now. I know that when his mother calls, he's going to be a bit. There's no guessing as to how long his conversation might be. But I also know who I can interrupt her for, and that sort of thing. So really, it's relative. If you're a telemarketer for the advertising department of the newspaper calling to ask the VP of our region about whether they want to advertise with your ass, do NOT ask me when I think the VP might be returning or ask to be placed on hold to wait for them to get off the other line. I HATE it when people ask to be placed on hold. My boss will call you back when he is off the phone, and is done calling all the other people that happened to call before your ass did, mkay? Dumbass.

Boy...there was a lot of "ass" at the end of that last paragraph. I guess it's on my mind more than I realized. Oh well.

I had something else on my mind, too. What was it? Whaaat waaaasss iiiit? Did I mention that I want it to be the end of the day right now? I did? Hm. What the fuck else was I going to say? Ok...I'll let it go, and if it comes to me eventually, I'll update this post. Baaaahhhh...

I'm back...I just remembered what I was thinking about. I was in the bathroom a little bit ago, and I noticed that I've got a BUNCH of little frizzy short hairs that stick up off the top of my head when I do it curly. It's obvious to me, in a big way, but I wonder if it's obvious to anyone else. I decided that later tonight at the party I'm going to (a favorite coworker is moving to AZ, so we're saying goodbye in the right proper style by drinking heavily and eating fried food at a bar around the corner from his office tonight), I will ask someone (probably fave coworker) to take a picture of this hair phenomenon that I just mentioned, and then I'll post it in my Yahoo pics when I develop the film, so you all can see what I mean. (You will also get to see my lovely roots as well as the several gray hairs that are sprouting, I would imagine. But it's not my fault that my hairdresser was booked all this week and out all this weekend...I don't get to see her until next Friday!) I don't know if it's the flourescent lights in the bathroom that make them so obvious, or if I just don't look that closely anywhere else, but I swear I never see them unless I'm in the bathroom here at work.

And I just realized how fascinating this must be to read about. But it'll be good backstory to be able to link to when I am able to post a link to the picture I'm taking tonight. So there.

Alarms, working out, Cruise & Holmes, and recording...

I set off my house alarm again this morning. I was real, real tired when I got up, but I told myself that one hour of sleep wasn't worth skipping a whole work-out, so I pushed my ass out of bed, and got dressed, grabbed my shoes from the treadmill room, and headed into the living room to put them on without thinking about the fact that I hadn't turned off the alarm. Motion sensor sensed me, and the alarm went OFF! Gah. It's the worst. The alarm company didn't call, which made me think they were just going to send the police right out, but no one ever knocked on the door, so I guess it all worked out. But DAYUM, that muthafucka is loud, man!

Good Morning America had several top stories this morning, one of which being that there was another earthquake on the west coast again last night, which is interesting, to say the least. Does the high number of earthquakes that have been happening on the coast and on the Pacific rim mean "the big one" is coming? Eh. Really, being from Cali, I don't know that I ever believed in the big one. This time of year is earthquake season, as far as I'm concerned, so it makes sense that plates are shifting about a bit. We'll have to wait and see what happens, I s'pose.

The other big story? Katie fucking Holmes and Tom "I'm a freak-ass" Cruise got engaged at the top of the Eiffel Tower sometime over the past couple of days. She's converting to Scientology for him. They are both disgusting to me with their utterly ridiculous display of lovey-doveyness, and it's not that I'm a bitter single woman feeling this way. I think that 95% of the world that's been exposed to it is just as disgusted. (I've never been big on PDA, personally. Holding hands and a quick peck now and then is cool...but anything beyond that really should be kept private.)And having dated a Scientologist for over a year when I was in college, I feel sorry for that poor girl. I wouldn't convert (as I am Catholic, very happy with my faith, and don't need a new "religion"), his mother never warmed to me because of it ("there are lots of people who are Scientologists as well as being involved in another religion," she'd say. I would reassert the fact that that was fine for them, but Catholics believe in one faith for themselves...not many different faiths...she was a dumbass. She was also very high up in the "church", so there was no getting past her influence over her baby boy. Disgusting woman...), and so we were wasting time being together at all, it seemed. But all that aside, I'm tired of hearing about it. It's gotten real old, real fast, and I sincerely hope that Katie and Tom find a hole to crawl into and stay there for a long while very soon.

I found out from the recording studio that making a demo CD is going to be way more reasonable than I expected it to be. By my estimation, it should be less than $500 to get started, and then the creation of CDs and editing and all that will still be less than $1000 total. I've been thinking that to get started, it shouldn't cost me more than $1,500. And that's just about what the studio told me in response to my questions. So I'm going to call them later today and find out what the required deposit is so I can get copy to read from, and then we can set up a recording time within the month, I'd think. My tummy does flip-flops just thinking about it, but they're good flip-flops. It would be sooooo nice to have the career in voice-over that I've wanted for the past 5 years. I'm quite a talker, so to make money for doing it would be the ideal situation for me, really. Cross your fingers for me that things pan out as I truly hope they will.

Work beckons. Dammit...

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Quick update...

Roads were completely squirrel-free today. Yay!

I am making a card for my dad for Father's Day. It's looking pretty cool so far...a little homemade-ish, but since it is, and that's the point, I don't mind. I spent a bit on the supplies for the card, but it was still less than it would've cost to buy a present, and since I have NO IDEA what the HELL to buy the man, I thought that going the homemade-card-route would be best. He really likes homemade cards. And he can buy the fucking King Tut exhibit if he wanted to, so it's not like he can't buy himself a new doo-dad if he needs one. I don't need to find him something I think he needs in order to show him that I love and appreciate him. The card does show that, though. So, go me! :)

In other news, I chaffed (chafed? I don't know, and I'm not taking the time to look. Let me know if you don't know what I mean, and I'll explain it later...) myself in a very odd spot yesterday, and I haven't a clue as to how I did it. Everyone knows I'm a big girl, and being a big girl, I have upper thighs that rub together. This sometimes causes a bit of discomfort on a hot day when I'm wearing a skirt, and am out and about doing a bit of walking. No biggy...I neosporin it before bed, and that usually mellows it out by morning. But I don't know if the underwear I was wearing when I worked out yesterday morning came together with my biker-shorts that I walked in to scratch the hell out of the spot where my inner thigh meets with my happy place, or what. But right at the top of my inner thigh, there is the most uncomfy scratch/burn/chaffed spot, and I don't know (a) how it got there or (b) how to make it happy/make it go away. So I'm a bit uncomfortable today.

And work sort of sucks again right now. There's only one thing I can do to make myself completely happy when it comes to my working life. And that is to start with the voice-over thing, and then become completely self-employed/self-sufficient, which I'm sure I could do within 2 years (I hope, I HOPE!!), so I can tell this admin gig to bug the fuck off. But I need to motivate myself to get moving on that, seriously. I HAVE TO RECORD MY DEMO!!! I'm freaked out about it, though. The money...the inexperience...the lack of knowledge about whether the recording studio I choose will be the right recording studio. I'm freaking out about it, and it's keeping me from moving forward. So I need to stop freaking out, right? Right. Great. Glad I've got that down now...:)

I'd better get back to work. The list of to-do's isn't getting any smaller by me bitching about shit in this post, eh?

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Stopping to smell the pavement

A strange phenomenon amongst the squirrel population has been occuring here in KC over the past month or so, as I've noticed. They seem to be resting or "playing dead" in the street for some reason, and I don't get it. A couple of weeks ago, I saw one lying in the road in front of me, so I turned a bit to avoid hitting it. (I really don't like the idea of having squirrel guts on my tires as I drive down the road...) But as I came up on the little sucker, it stood up, and ran off to the side of the road! Scared the daylights out of me! Are they playing a weird squirrely game of Russian Roulet? Are their lives just not interesting enough that they've decided to live a bit on the edge by lying in the street waiting for cars to come upon them before they scury away, rather than to keep on doing the normal dart-out-in-front-of-cars-to-cross-the-street thing that they usually do? Ironically, the darting-thing they usually do seems to have waned a bit as well. Today, I came across one that seemed to have started crossing the road quite a bit of time before I came upon it, and as I drove closer to it, it's like it snapped out of whatever random crossing-the-street-coma it had gone into, and finished it's trip across the street. It hadn't been lying down, though. It was just standing there when I saw it initially.

So I don't know if this is a country-wide phenomenon, or if it's just the KC squirrels that have lost their minds. Let me know if you've noticed an odd change in behavior amongst the squirrels in your neighborhood, will ya?

Along those same lines, what the FUCK is with the birds that fly right across in front of your car as you drive down the road? Do they not know they can fly higher than that, and pretty well avoid all large solid objects that travel down the road and can therefore slam into them, rendering them lifeless if they don't make it? I haven't hit one in a while, but they always scare me, and I really, really want them to stop it. It must be a game for them as well, is what I figure. And I know it might not be all that interesting to be a bird, or a squirrel for that matter...but this whole kamikazi attitude thing needs to be taken elsewhere. Because some of us humans feel bad when we've accidentally hit something we couldn't avoid. Dammit.

Did I leave the gas on?! I'm a fucking squirrel!

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

This is ALL I'm saying on the matter...

Jackson Won't Share Bed with Kids Again.

Hm. D'ya think? My, my...what a good plan to move forward with. (I'd like a show of hands from those who think he'll have a new 10 year old in bed with him before August. My hand is high in the air, y'all.)

I'll take this moment now to say that he's a sick man that needs professional help, possibly some institutionalizing for a bit, and needs to be kept the fuck away from children. Besides the fact that he's creepier looking than a clown, that man is not sound enough to be able to hang out around children (when he's lonesome or any other time) much less raise them. I sure hope his kids wind up being ok later on in life.

And what the FUCK is up with his fans/supporters? Do they really think it was ok for him to have done what he has done all these years? One chick is quoted in the article as saying, "It's victory...God is alive and well." That just makes no sense. And it's sad that people think he's normal, and are happy that he can go back to behaving the way he always has.

FYI - this is all just my opinion, yo. If you disagree with me, then that's just fine. I never liked Michael Jackson much after the "Thriller" years ended, and I certainly don't agree with the jury's decision in this case. But I also am glad it's finally over, and all E! programming can go back to normal from this point forward.

That is all.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Still under the rock...

The day isn't getting any better, I'm afraid. I find myself wanting to sit in the stairwell outside my office, hiding from the rest of the world, and just staring into space. Apparently, that's what all the managers are doing throughout my region, so why can't I do it too?

I created this kick-ass guide for all the new managers we hire. I thought it would be helpful to them when it came to general processes and procedures when they first started, so they didn't have to run to me with every little question. Soon after I created it, I found that many of the managers who have been here for a long while also need the guide, so I sent it out to everyone. Whenever a change needs to be made, I update the guide, and I send it out to everyone again. I'm very efficient like that.

Anyway, it's becoming increasingly clear that I could have sent out a guide peppered with explitives and threats upon the lives of small puppies, and no one would've noticed. Know why? BECAUSE NO ONE IS READING THE DAMNED THING! This is causing me to want to get up, walk out, and go home to watch the USC/Oregon State baseball game that is one as we speak. I just don't want to be here right now, because it's making me want to fling my poo at people that are being stupid.

Oh my God. My job is causing me to want to behave like a gorilla at the zoo. Holy shit. This isn't good.

Anyway, the day sucks, and I'm glad it's almost over. Now I must get back to correcting people, helping them read, adn generally doing their jobs for them. Woo. Go me.

I'll be under a rock, if you need me...

Very tired. Very fat. And holy bejeezus, if it doesn't stop raining soon, I don't know what I'll do! (Although, I'm pretty sure it will involve playing mind-games with the chipmunks that have taken over my back yard this summer. Mwahahah...oh, forget it.)

Waking up early to try to abate very fat issue. (Now I get up at 5:15 in order to have a full 45 minutes on the treadmill at least 3 times a week...I used to get up at 5:35. Amazing what 20 minutes can mean apparently.) Hence the extreme tiredness. I'm going to keep at it, though, as I'm slowly but surely growing out of my size 16 clothing. And baby, that AIN'T happ'nen. I'm going to only allow myself 2 beers per night on the weekends, and no drinks at all during the week. The food thing is easy to control...I have to stop making my own croutons and corn chips, as I go through them rather quickly with the mind-set of, "Well, I made them myself, so they aren't nearly as bad as eating fries from McDonald's, or tacos from Taco Schmako, or Cheetos Puffs..." But then I eat the equivalent of an entire french baguette over the course of one day (I really do make very good croutons), and then it doesn't matter that I've skipped eating an order of fries.

I can't remember exactly how I did it, but when I put myself on the 6 Week Body Makeover plan a couple of years ago, I dropped to a size 14 rather quickly. And while I've stuck to a lot of the philosophies it projects food-wise (sticking to turkey and chicken vs. beef; eating smaller portions at each meal, and making sure to eat more meals throughout the day, etc, etc...), I need to stick to it all the time, rather than just MOST of the time. So back to turkey chili and white rice we go!

I really think the beer on the weekends has a lot to do with things, though. So we'll see if it helps for me to drink more water/Diet Coke than beer when I'm out with friends. It'll be a bit cheaper, if nothing else...

Sorry to be a bore. Nothing funny happened on the way to the colliseum this morning. Maybe something will happen later...

Friday, June 10, 2005

Oh, it is SOOOOOO over.

It's Friday, y'all. Shaking of booty and drinking of beer shall commence in t-minus 3 hours.

The kiss of death has come into my life, it seems. Let's see...a couple of weeks ago it was the horrible accident that killed my coworker's sister. And during that same time, my other coworker was going through a long drawn out death with her father-in-law, and even though the death didn't actually happen until last week, it seemed like it was actually a 3-week-long deal. Poor thing. And THEN some other coworkers had deaths in the family, but they aren't coworkers I deal with day-to-day, so they didn't hit me as hard as the others. But it still sucks all the same.

And yesterday, my coworker that is the co-admin in the office came in and told me that the deli downstairs was closed, and that they had a note on the door that said it was due to a death in the family. Thing is, we know those people pretty well...I'm in there every day, sometimes twice. I've known them for over 3 years now. So when my coworker told me about the note on the door, I immediately wondered which family member had died. And I remember thinking that I hoped it wasn't Samantha. (She's the daughter of one of the owners of the deli, and she's been helping out in the deli for the last 6 months or so. She's a real sweetie, and I think it's so funny that her dad is such a grump when she's so very nice all the time.) But today we received an e-mail from the building management that told us that Samantha did die. And her sister is on life-support. (I don't know that I've ever met her sister, though...) And I don't even know where to begin to try to understand what the FUCK is going on around me lately! All these people are dying! It's weird, weird, weird...

Anyway, coworker and I are tearing up over the thought of it. We don't know how we'll be able to go in there without crying once they do re-open the deli. We signed a card that we're going to give, and apparently the management office is collecting donations for them, so I might give a bit there as well. I just don't get it. And the first thing that enters your mind, even though you really don't want it to, is "What next?"

So I'm going to drink tonight. And the coworker is coming along. It's been quite a week, and I know I deserve it, dammit. We're supposed to get horrendous storms again tonight, but I don't give a fuck. I will fall asleep quite contentedly drunk, I'm sure, and if a twister comes to get me, it's going to have to take my bed along with me!

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Hanging on to the armrests...

So, does it really help to hang on to the armrests on your seat when experiencing super-bad turbulence in an airplane? I'm going to answer with a somewhat resounding, "Hell yes, it does!"

So, my business trip yesterday. Yeah, it was to St. Louis. It's an hour away by plane, so no biggy there. I got in at 9:30, met with one manager, then had lunch, went to meet with the other manager and his admin, and then chatted up the employees a bit before getting back on the road toward the airport. I wasn't supposed to leave until 8:30, but that was ok with me, as traffic sucked royally on the way to the airport (I don't deal with traffic any more on a daily basis. I realized yesterday how much I do NOT MISS IT!), and I was looking forward to relaxing with a beer and my book before boarding my flight home. Oh, also, the weather was pretty icky outside, so I figured it would mellow a bit in the 2 hours between my arrival at the airport and my flight time. Which it did. Unfortunately, it had NOT mellowed in Chicago, where my plane was coming in from, and that delayed my flight by an hour. I didn't mind too much. I had a Diet Coke, and read a bit more.

All day long, I was talking to people. I was driving about. I did not have access to a computer. I did not realize that the potential for such massively bad storms was existing in the KC area. The morning news didn't say anything other than "pop-up thunderstorms" were likely, and that usually means mellow little bursts of clouds with some rain, and then moving on.

Apparently the super-cell (i.e. super-duper-gifuckinggantic cell!) developed over our fair city of KC while I was waiting in traffic, drinking my beers, and then waiting to get a plane in from Chicago. When we took off from St. Louis, I was expecting some bumps...that wasn't a problem. But about 100 miles outside of Kansas City, we had to divert to avoid a major thunderhead. That added another 30 minutes and about another 100 miles onto our trip, it seemed. It also exposed us to some amazing shows of lightning-outlined thunderheads that surrounded the plane on both sides. "Shit," I thought. "We're going to have to descend through this at some point." I checked my seatbelt, and sipped my water. I had already put my book away when the first of the lightning started flashing outside, because I really, really love to look at lightning-outlined thunderheads. It's one of nature's most powerful, yet beautiful displays, and it fascinates me. I was on the aisle, and the woman in the window seat was totally asleep, so I was leaning out into the aisle chatting with my neighbors and the flight attendant (whom the captain had asked to stay seated, btw), talking about how amazing it all was. We had started to bump around a bit, but nothing too bad at that point. The flight attendant had been through Chicago earlier in the day. This was nothing, she assured us.

And that's when we started to go through one of the thunderheads. We had no choice, I'm sure...and I'm willing to bet we avoided one that could be foreseen to do serious damage, if given the opportunity. But that did not take away from the fact that this one was not a good one. We were being pushed side to side by wind that was amazingly powerful. Then we went back up a bit very quickly, and got shoved around some more. Every once in a while, I could see the lights of the city below us through a break in the clouds. We were still at least 15,000 feet up. Shit...that's another good 15 minutes to descend. (I've flown a LOT...and I dated a pilot...I'm pretty good at estimating shit like that.) The phone must've rung, and the flight attendant picked it up. "Ok.." she said. And she sat back and put her shoulder harness on. (She had been just sitting with her lapbelt on until that point.) I thought to myself that this was a very bad sign. We hit some more bumps, and continued to get pushed from side to side. I kept chatting with the folks around me...we were all rather nervous, I'm sure...and we talked about what's the worst the flight attendant had ever been in, and asked her if she wanted us to pass the trash bag back for people to throw their cups into. (She had passed bags of peanuts back when she initially sat down. She'd only had about 10 minutes to do any kind of serving of drinks/peanuts before she was ordered to be seated by the pilot, and so she sat down and pulled out the peanuts, and asked us to pass 'em made us all giggle, which I think we were all grateful for, even that early into the turbulence...) She told us she had never passed back a trash bag, and she didn't plan on starting now! She mentioned that some folks in the back were holding hands across the aisle...I looked back and saw people crying and saw the interlocked hands she had spoken of. (The back of the plane is a worse ride in turbulent climates...I learned that a long time ago. What might feel only moderate to those of us in the front might feel like the plane is going to split apart to people in the back. Which is why I always try to sit as far forward as possible...) She asked the woman in front of me (who was in the very first row) if she was ok, or if she needed to hold hands with someone? She asked the guy across from the woman if he was with anyone, and then asked him if she'd hold her hand when he said he was alone. That made us all laugh, too. She was trying to push things back with her feet that were rolling about in the "galley" which she hadn't had time to secure before she sat down. She had really long legs, but there were apparently some open cans of soda on the sink thing that she was worried about. This kept us all very focussed on stuff other than the massive turbulence, and I was really glad for it.

We broke out of the clouds. "Thank GOD!" I thought. "I can see the ground...we're almost home!" But apparently, we weren't. Breaking through the clouds exposed us to winds that seemed stronger than any I've ever been exposed to in a plane. We started to get tossed about even more than before, and I held onto my armrests as the flight attendant started to pass the trashbag back (heh!) and told everyone to hold on to their drinks, or throw them away, and to put the tray tables up. The woman in the window seat had woken up long enough to drink a little of her water, and then throw the cup away, and then she fell asleep again. (!!) We experienced about another 5 minutes (an eternity!) of moderate chop, as they call it, before we cleared out of the last of the worst weather.

As we landed, we saw the flashing lights of several fire engines and other emergency vehicles on the tarmac around us. We weren't the only plane flying through that stuff, but thank God, seriously, that we didn't need their assistance, and I hope that none of the other flights landing did either. My car was one of many that were rushing to drive out of the parking garage, get out into the rain and storminess, but we were all on the ground, and for that, I think we were all truly grateful.

I won't be flying again for a while, I think. While I'm really at peace with the idea that if you're gonna go, then you're gonna go, I really don't want it to happen in a big plane crash. Something about the idea of so many people going at the same time doesn't sit well with me. A car crash would suck, but it's likely that less people would be involved. Dying in my sleep would be perfect, of course. But before every flight, I always say a little prayer asking God to carry us all to safety. And I mean that each and every time. (Sorry to end with such cheese, but it's the truth, so deal with it! :P)

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Found a paddle...

Everything worked itself out at work. The day has been busy as hell, though, so it's an even exchange really.

I have to go on a business trip tomorrow now, too, which sucks. It was being discussed last week, but just decided for sure today. Hopefully it'll be of some kind of help, but that remains to be seen. I'm having to do double the work today to cover the fact that I won't be able to have access to anything tomorrow, though, and my server that I need to access for AP and procurement items is down. Mutha. Fucka. What can a girl do? THAT'S RIGHT! She can blog, yo! :D

I was talking to the Twin earlier while I was eating lunch (chewing in her ear all the while...), and telling her about my happiness I experienced while working out this morning. See, my house is pretty tiny, but there is plenty of space, due to my vunderbar singleness, for a specific room that is home to my faboolous treadmill. It's right across the hall from the bathroom. And so this morning, when I was just winding down from a quick sprint and preparing for the next one to start, I felt old Mr. Brown a-knockin'. I tried to hold him off for another minute, but he wasn't having it. So I was forced to stop mid-workout to have our meeting. During this meeting, I was remembering back to the days when I had to visit a gym in order to workout. Whenever I had an urge that caused me to have to run to the ladies' room, I hated life. I'd have to abandon the machine I was on at the moment, gather all my stuff together, and go take care of business. It doesn't happen often, thank goodness, but when it does, it irritates me a great deal. So it was nice this morning to realize that I could have my (blessedly) quick meeting, and hop back on the treadmill to kick back into gear without a care in the world.'s the simple things in life that make me happy. Pooping is definitely a simple thing. :)

Oh jeezy, here we go...

Shit: hitting the fan
Me: freaking out!
Next?: Who the fuck knows.

I'll update later if I can, but basically some bad political shit is going down here at the office. I'm totally worried about what's going to happen. Twin, don't call me...I'll call you. I can't talk about it at all until I'm well clear of the office. But I'm so freaked out! So, so freaked out!

Is it worth it to be this freaked out? I just don't know how to handle myself in the face of such conflict, is all. And maybe it's just imagined conflict...I don't know. And I won't know until at least 11 a.m. CST. So hold on to you hats, friends. It's going to be a bumpy-ass ride this fair Tuesday...

**UPDATE: Things have been delayed until this afternoon. I feel a bit better knowing that, as well as with the fact that the boss seems to be in a better mood than he was when he was sending out notes last night. But I still might be up a creek...and I don't know how the hell to find a paddle. Bleh.

Monday, June 06, 2005

Have you ever noticed?...

I find that when I have a super-busy morning, and then finally make myself stop and eat lunch by about 1:30, that I no longer want to work as the afternoon progresses. Yep. I'm definitely in "work can fuck right off" mode at this point. So I shall share this meme, which I stole from Lyn...I like this meme in particular because it has a section it calls "dumb" outright. Lovely...and just my style. Enjoy, muthafuckahs...

1. Nervous Habits: pushing the skin of my fingers against my fingernails. Also, I pick at my cuticles.
2. Are you double jointed: on 8 thumbs somehow escaped the double jointedness.
3. Can you roll your tongue: yes
4. Can you raise one eyebrow at a time: HELL yes
5. Can you blow spit bubbles: Who does this on purpose past the age of 6 months? I'm sure I could blow spit bubbles, but would I blow spit bubbles is a better question.
6. Can you cross your eyes: Uh-huh. Just look at a finger as you bring it closer and closer to the tip of your nose. Easy peesy.
7. Tattoos: nope
8. Piercing: ears
9. Do you make your bed daily: Yes

10. Which shoe goes on first: right
11. Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone? Not that I can recall.
12. On the average, how much money do you carry: $10 - $40 (usually it's closer to $10, unfortunately...)
13. What jewelry do you wear 24/7: none
14. Favorite piece of clothing: tank tops

-- FOOD --
15. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it: twirl. And I wish people would stop looking at me so funny when I'm doing it. You think they'd never seen someone eat penne before...
16. Have you ever eaten Spam: No.
18. How many cereals in your cabinet: none
19. What's your favorite beverage: Diet Pepsi w/ Lime
20. What's your favorite fast food restaurant: Taco Schmako (a.k.a. Taco Bell, for those of you outside the Faith/Twin circle...)
21. Do you cook: Yes...but not very well. I can please myself, but I don't think anyone would ever want to come to my house for dinner if I was the one making it.

22. How often do you brush your teeth: Once in the a.m. and once in the p.m.
23. Hair drying method: Ion hair dryer. God I love that thing!
24. Have you ever colored / highlighted your hair: Don't you know me at all, meme? (BTW, most people I know are telling me that they really like my hair red, so it's probably going to remain this color for a while again.)

25. Do you swear: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! (Although I really don't think that swearing is so much related to manners as it is to expression of one's true inner self. It'd be MUCH worse manners for me to ignore my inner self, right? That's what I thought...)
26. Do you ever spit: Didn't we cover this on #22? Hell yes, I spit. (As for any other outside spitting activites, it really just depends on whether something tastes bad, I think. Sometimes, it must be done, and others, the taste is tolerable enough to just make you never want it in your mouth again. This is a weird question...)

27. Animal: baby puppies
28. Food: boneless buffalo wings and ranch dressing.
29. Month: May was a pretty decent month. I'll say May, for now.
30. Day: Saturday
31. Cartoon: Family Guy
32. Shoe Brand: I tend to buy Nine West or Brass Plum shoes from Nordstrom. Ooh! Lemme change that...Steve fucking Madden babay...aaw yeah!
33. Subject in school: English
34. Color: green
35. Sport: College football/basketball
36. TV show: Friends.
37. Thing to do in the spring: Sit out on a porch/deck and have some drinks with friends
38. Thing to do in the summer: See #37
39. Thing to do in the fall: See #37
40. Thing to do in the winter: See #37, but move it indoors.

41. In the CD player: The Strokes
42. Person you talk most on the phone with: The Twin
44. Do you regularly check yourself out in store window mirrors: Yep
45. What color is your bedroom: Green. (Kind of a medium green color. It's the best, best, best...)
46. Do you use an alarm clock: Absolutely must use one. Are there people who don't? Who are you, and what planet were you born on?
47. Window seat or aisle: aisle.

-- dumb --
48. What's your sleeping position: I sleep on my sides...both of them.
49. Even in hot weather do you use a blanket: Usually just on the top part of my body. I kick the blanky off of my feet at some point every night. Even in cold weather.
50. Do you snore: Not that I know of. I wake myself up every now and then with a quick snorty sound, but it hasn't happened in a while, and as I sleep alone, I wouldn't know about any snoring that occurs regularly outside of that.
51. Do you sleepwalk: No. But again, I live alone/sleep alone, so I couldn't be positive about that.
52. Do you talk in your sleep: Everyone does every now and then. I'm sure I must. I talk so much when I'm awake that it can't possibly stop when I go to bed.
53. Do you sleep with stuffed animals: I sleep with a pillow. I call it "Squeezy". It doesn't have eyes or a nose or any arms and legs, so I can't really say it's a stuffed "animal". But it is stuffed.
54. How about with the light on: Not unless I'm really, really drunk. Hasn't happened in a while.
55. Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on: No.
56. Last interesting person you met: Hm. There was a little old guy that was fun to talk to at the Moose the other night. Outside of that, the last couple of guys I've interacted with on a personal level have kept things a bit interesting, so I'll say Dave and Dickhead.

Pizza was a baaaaad idea...

Man, I've never had such a good pizza. Well, not in a while, anyway. It was so yummy, and they put plenty of toppings on, and it was a good, good thing. Except that my stomach wasn't in the proper place to accept the pizza's presence. So today, I am hurting. And I'm hurting baaaaad. I'd like the option of having no stomach today, please. Just remove it and set it aside for a while, if that's ok. I mean, BLEH!

Had too many Long Island Ice Teas yesterday. Sat and watched people and talked and talked and talked, and had a really lovely day, actually. But then I went home and started watching "Romeo & Juliet"...the version by Baz with Leo and Claire in it, and I started bawling. Cried hard for a good half hour it seemed. (The dead boyfriend reminds me of Leo in that movie...same hair, and same body, and a very cute face like his...) I guess I needed it, or something. I think the iced teas might have helped it out a bit. Alcohol is a depressant, indeed.

Anyway, I'm at work now, and already it's a shitty day. I mean, not that there's anything we can do about it, really. And I'm sure it'll all work out for the best. And it's not like one of the offices blew up, or anything...just a resignation or two we have to deal with. Doesn't effect my pay at all! So I don't care. I'm contemplating a trip to St. Louis on Wednesday, so I'd better get on with organizing my thoughts about that. If my brain will actually allow me to control it a bit, that is...

I need a Diet Coke, dammit...

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Need some Coldplay tickets, here...

So, what does a sista have to do to get some Coldplay tickets, eh? Someone at 96.5 can help me out, I'm sho.

I'm watching the "Live Leak" on MTV right now (ok, I'm "listening" to it, really...) and they're gonna be at Verizon Ampitheater in June or July, or something (ohmygod...I just looked at it, and they aren't going to be here until Sepfuckingtember!) and all I'm sayin' is it'd be awfully nice to have the inside track, is all. I can't wait until the new album comes out this week. I don't care if Afentra thinks they're a "pussy England band". I looooove them. And seeing them live would make my day. Hell, it'd make my year, I bet!

Twin, all friends, everyone who likes Coldplay...come to KC to watch them, mkay? It'll be a good time, guaranteed. I'm here, they're'll be fun. Holy SHIT! I just looked, and it's at least $44 to see them. Some seats cost $65! The grass seats only cost $31, though. So that's nice. If you don't mind sittin' in the grass, that is. :) Chris Martin has a lovely voice. One of those kinds of voices that can put you in a different place. So IMO it's well worth any price to go and see them play.

Gonna go eat pizza and relax now. It's been a long day, and I need to work tomorrow...bleh! Hope everyone had a great fucking weekend. I did. It was fabulous. If only every day could be so wonderful. *sigh!* Gotta love life in moments like these!

Saturday, June 04, 2005

What does "krunk" mean? I might be krunk...

Art fair in Prairie Village. Many drinks. Weather held out well. Had half a burger. Happy, happy day.

Dave disappeared when he went to get his glasses from his car. He'd shared 5 bottles of wine with his friend Robert, though. Over the course of 6 hours, I'd suppose. I really had been hoping they were kidding when they said they'd had that much, but it turned out that they must've. What a mess! Can you imagine the wine "thingy" they'll wake up with tomorrow? I hope he got home ok...he lives only about 2 minutes from the area that we were in, so I'm sure he got home ok. But no one can be sure until tomorrow...

I spent most of the day with my friends M and R. We drank, walked about and talked about art, and discussed random issues. They really are the loveliest people! I'm grateful to have them as friends...

Fun night, but I must be off now. I'm looking forward to the day tomorrow...I have to mow my lawn in the a.m. (BLEH!), but the rest of the day will be given over to Long Island iced teas, Bud Lights, and hot dogs. WOO! Summer kicks ass, doesn't it? :D

Friday, June 03, 2005

Nurse practitioners - not up for a good ribbing...

Just had my annual girlie appointment. I actually usually love those things. I'm a really, really healthy girl, which is very fortunate, I realize, and I thank my lucky stars every day for being blessed with this body o' mine. So going to the doctor only happens once per year, really. And I go to my OB/GYN because they're the ones that give me the Pill, and there's really no need to go see any other doctor. I catch a bug every now and then that I can't shake, and that did happen to me about 14 months ago (I know...I'm telling you, I'm almost unbreakable, I think), and I had to go see a normal family practitioner for help. But I don't even remember who that was, to be quite honest. They did encourage me to head in for a full physical exam at some point, so I can get blood work done, and check my blood pressure, and blah, blah, blah. But I haven't gotten around to it, since I feel really just fine, and I went and had a full physical in 1999 (shut up), and everything was cool. I can go again when I'm 35, I figure. Unless something happens before then. (But...see the "unbreakable" comment above. Don't try to put me through a train wreck or anything to test it, but I'm Bruce Willis, I swear.)

Aaaanyway, I went to have an annual. And the nurse practitioner that I have an appointment with is new to me, so she's running through my history, and then she gets to the normal update-type questions, and she wants to know if I'm sexually active. "Not right now," I replied. "It's been about 4 fingers are crossed!" I've got a big grin on my face, and I actually have crossed my fingers, but she just looks at me like I've not just said something funny. I know I'm not Eddie fucking Izzard, or what-have-you, but come on! I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be sexually active soon! It's foonay!!! It's a bit silly, at least, but this woman wasn't having it. Whatever! And then she asks me if everything is feeling ok, and do I have any complaints, and etc, etc...and I said my only complaint is that I keep getting bigger. And it's not like I can stop eating, I say. And she just looks up at me and says, "Well, portion control is the key." And I'm like, ok, this bitch is going to get my foot in her face during the exam so we'd better get the fuck on with it. Because I seriously watch my portions, but this skinny-assed a-hole is assuming that I don't because I'm a big girl? Um, fuck you very much. Some skinny people (I think the ones that are born skinny, and are inclined to remain skinny due to genetics throughout their lives) just do NOT understand how small of an amount of food some of us have to eat in order to remain at a size goddammed 14, even. So they can keep their mouths shut about portion fucking control, because please, bitch. You do NOT see what I eat every day, so don't even put it out there that I'm out of control because I'm a bit chubby, mkay?

I'm sort of bitter about it right now because I really do eat well about 80% of the time, and I work out at least 3 times per week (walking for 30 - 45 minutes, and doing hellatious yard work), and my boobs will not relent, and it's driving me to maddness. So I try not to think about it and let it take over.

So I didn't wind up enjoying my annual as much as I usually do, because of the new skinny-ass, married-and-doesn't-get-my-funny-single-girl-crossing-fingers-for-sexual-activity-jokes, misunderstanding-what-it's-like-to-be-31-and-chubby-with-HUGE-boobs, nurse goddammed practitioner. I'm glad to be back in my office watching the rain taper off, and seeing the sun poking through, even though that means that the storms this afternoon will likely be horrendous. (I can feel the humidity through the windows, it's so heavy out's gonna be a doozy of an afternoon, I bet, weather-wise.)

Skinny chicks? Do us chubby girls a favor and understand that we may eat chicken fingers (2 out of 4, mind you) when we're out having a drink or two with friends, but that doesn't mean that we aren't eating teeny portions of low-sodium turkey meatloaf (which we made ourselves, thankyouverymuch) the rest of the week, as we try our best to do everything we can to fit into the cute skirts for the summer, and to keep on having the fucking GREAT legs that we were blessed to be born with. I can't starve myself, and I'm not gonna, since I think that it's most unhealthy, and I'd rather be fat, fo sho. But I don't need skinny chicks (or guys, for that matter) to be walking around thinking that because I'm a size 16 with DD breasts that I eat like shit all the time, and that I am inactive and lazy. Fuck that. I'm strong, I have amazing blood pressure, my heart could tip a cow by itself, and I'm absolutely lovely to look at. Oh, and I have a rockin' voice, whether I'm speaking or singing. I wish I could've told that nurse practitioner to put that in her pipe and smoke it. But I remained professional, and even kept from kicking her when my feet were in the stirrups, as she was weilding the dreaded speculum. But I can still tell everyone how I feel about it here in my lovely blog space.

Ooh! And 96.5 is playing The Church right now! Eeee! Gotta run...

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Suck your WHAT? I wanna talk to your manager...

Last week, I thought I'd take a moment to finally go into one of those online car insurance quote comparing thingies, and find out where I could get cheaper insurance from for my car. IF I could get it. (I pay about $95 a month right now, but I have really decent coverage, and it's a 2002 BMW we're talking about, so it's gonna be a bit high, no matter what.) See, I've talked to my dad about it before, and he gets all bothered that I pay as much as I do, and tells me that I should look for better deals, blah, blah, blaaahhhh. But he doesn't understand. My home owner and car insurance is through the same company, and I get a discount because of that. I'm also, oh, about 35 years younger than him, and that could also factor into the higher rate, you know? Anyway, his voice is always poking me in the back of my brain, so I finally did something about it.

Yeah, his voice has turned into constant, extremely LOUD laughing in the back of my brain. And it's me doing the all the insurance companies that have sent me quotes over the past few days. One was relatively close to my current rate. About $115. Some others I've received have just been somewhat silly.

But last night, I opened one from GMAC. And AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I want to call them up just so I can do that in their ear. Ok, their envelope says on the outside, "Here's the money saving vehicle insurance quote you requested!" They're all excited! I'M excited because they're excited! So I open the envelope, and it says, "Based on the information you provided and the above coverages, the total cost to insure your vehicle for six months (mind you, this is just for six months) is $1,643.00." The above coverages they refer to are the same ones I have on my car right now. And I pay about $1,128 for 12 months through my current company. And they want me to pay them about $274 PER MONTH in order to get their insurance.

Are they HIGH???

Maybe it's so expensive because I can "...easily switch to GMAC insurance with one toll-free phone call!" (Yes, they're excited about that as well...) I don't know. But hell if I'm gonna switch to their company when it costs that much for basic insurance!

Also, word to the wise: when you fill out those online quote comparison thingies, you will get quotes from LOADS of companies. I put in fake phone numbers, and was reluctant to put in my home address, but I did anyway, and I used my "faithsista" e-mail at Yahoo, so my personal e-mail wouldn't get overwhelmed. And it was a good thing I did that stuff! Because it's amazing how many companies have been sending me quotes. Oh, and the Geico one required me to put in my SS#, which I'm really regretting, because they probably pulled a credit report, dammit. Hopefully, they only pulled it once.

But at least I got a little bit of entertainment out of it, after all. $274 a month. Jeezy chreezy...

Wednesday, June 01, 2005 what?

Dear 96.5 The Buzz,

As a faithful daily listener, I am making an open plea to you, and I hope you hear my cry. Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, for the love of all that is good...stop playing Beastie Boys and Red Hot Chili Peppers every GODDAMMED hour of the day!

Tony Ortega, you used to read this, and I KNOW you know Lazlo. Can we lean a bit on the guy? Maybe? I think Lazlo and I have very similar musical tastes, anyways, so if he could just play more of a variety of stuff (they played Echo & the Bunnymen this morning! It was absolute poetry, I tell you...), as opposed to the same ol' shit over and over, it'd be great, dontcha think?

I used to love a good Beastie Boys or RHCP tune as much as the next guy. But at this point, I turn my radio OFF any time I hear one of their songs starting. I cannot be the only person in KC who feels this way. I can't. And if I am, then WTF is wrong with all you people??!!

Alternative music should involve more Radiohead, and Coldplay, and flashbacks to things like Cocteau Twins, The Smiths, and Bjork! Variety! VARIETY IS THE KEY TO MY SANITY!

I like that new Beck song, and I can even deal witht he fact that the Weezer song "Beverly Hills" is as popular as it is. (I don't get it, but I can understand, I s'pose.) But play more Raveonettes! And Interpol! And some gosh darned new stuff from Muse and The Killers! (Have you heard the entire new album from Muse? "Absolution"? Jeezy, that thing is good. Play it.)

It's not like I'm asking for some obscure, random bands to be played. I'm not asking for Kate Bush, or Ani DiFranco. I'm just looking for a little more Bauhaus (or Peter Murphy), or some Ivy, or even some Eels, for cryin' out loud!

Just give my ears a break. Give the Beastie Boys a rest. They deserve it...WE deserve it!