Friday, June 30, 2006

Who is this FICA guy, and why is he getting all my money?**

By popular demand, I have changed the tagline of my blog to read, "My ass is cuter than your face." I hope y'all are happy. I haven't changed a single thing on this blog, except to add my picture, since I started it 2 years ago. Congratulations on the power you have over me.

Then again, I do like the word "ass" an awful lot. And the Eddie Izzard reference originally in the tagline was never, ever something that people noticed, I don't think. So maybe it was a better idea than I originally considered it to be. Hm.

Maybe I should fuck around with the background design for the blog? Nah...the thought of changing that freaks me the fuck out!

Anyway, this morning, while hanging out in the backyard waiting for the dog to decide to join me in the peeing area, we got swooped in upon by a morning dove. Seemed that something was wrong with it. It was all flapping its wings and making its morning dove noise...it didn't seem right. The dog chased it out of our yard and into the neighbor's yard, where it found a quiet spot to sit and do it's flappy business. And it occurred to me that I'd seen a bird do something like this before. Years ago, I worked as a waitress at Ruby's Diner in San Juan Capistrano, and I happened to have the patio section one day when a bird was just sitting in one of the planters we had near the tables. Right at lunchtime, and next to my biggest table of the day, the bird decided to flap itself out of the planter onto the ground next to one of the chairs at the table, and then flapped and flapped until it just fell over and died. I walked out with their food, and there the bird was, just lying on the ground next to this one woman. They told me what had happened, I tried not to laugh at the description of the final moments for the bird, and then I went and got a manager to help clean it up so the people could eat in peace without having to try to ignore the carcass throughout their meal.

So I figured this morning dove was about to kick the birdie-bucket this morning, and I got the dog away from the fence finally so it could have final moments of peace instead of just heart-pounding fear that my little Izzy was gonna somehow get to it and chew on it a little bit. At least it got over into my neighbor's yard to do it. Seems things go there to die, for the most part. So it works out well that it landed there after all.

Last night was another night of HELL in the hot yoga class. The teacher decided to come and "help" me get into some of the poses. The first time she did it, she just pushed me over. Nice. The next time, it was actually helpful, since I didn't know I could sink down the way she wanted me to, and it turned out I could. So well done, there. The third time, she wanted me to lay down on my belly with my elbows tucked underneath me more than I felt I was able to do, and I told her, "But my boobs are in the way!" She said she has boobs, too, and she can do it just fine. Well, yeah, I can see that, but my boobs are about 2 - 3 times the size of hers, and I'm thinking she's been doing this for a bit longer than I have, is the thing. So she might be better at it. Maybe. I dunno. When I was leaving class, drenched from head to toe and feeling oh-so-pretteh, she stopped me and gave me a tip to try to lie on my arms like we do in class for that one pose, but to do it on my bed, so it has more give than the hard wood floor might. And to try to do this twice a day for 60 seconds each, and that should get my arms more used to the pose.

Regardless, my boobs will always be in the way. While this pose hurts everyone else's wrists and elbows, it tends to hurt my wrists, elbows, AND breasts. And it sucks. And I don't like it. And I wish she'd leave me alone about it, because, dammit, I'm doing HALF of what I'm supposed to, so she can just lay the fuck off, for christ's sake!

Ok, my coworker just got here, and I got stories to tell her, so I'm a gonna scoot. Latahhhh....

**Got my 2nd quarter bonus today, and of course, as usual and expected, the fucking government took 40% already. Bastards. What REALLY sucks about bonuses is that, even though 40% of it goes automatically to the government right off the bat, when it comes time to pay taxes in April, you still owe even MORE to the fucking state. So really, I wind up with 50% of what I earned, which is still better than nothing, but sucks all the same.

But for now? I have money. And I'm happy. Oh, and the title to this post is a line spoken by Jennifer Aniston's character "Rachel" on Friends after she'd first started working and got her very first paycheck. From season one. Because I'm cool like that...

Thursday, June 29, 2006

This is SOOO me!

My boyfriend thinks I'm nuts for being like this, but this Real Life Adventures cartoon from today is exactly how I feel about dings I find in my car...it's all about the re-sale value, baby.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

What?

Ok, so when Kate Moss was caught on tape snorting cocaine, and it was spread all through the tabloids, originally via the Daily Mirror, or whatever, in London, and all of her advertising campaigns were dropped and she was seen as being the seriously fucked up "model" for human behavior?

Yeah, how the HELL was she found "not guilty" due to a lack of evidence? I SAW the evidence. I watched a video of the chick snorting shit up her nose. Well, ok, so the video didn't exactly catch her actually doing it, as I recall, but the still photos did. She was leaning over, then she was in the process of snorting, and then the stuff she'd been leaning over and inhaling with her head was GONE.

Lack of evidence? Dude. Duuuuuude!!!

So now she's getting all her old jobs back, and will go back to being rich and skinny, and little girls (and big girls, too, probly) will go back to wishing they could be her, and the world will be the same old fucked up place it always has been, I guess.

I hate this sort of shit, man...

Meaningless Items of Note

Still busy as all get out at work...I'm basically typing in 1400 addresses to create a new marketing mail list for one of the brokers, and it's not a quick project obviously. I do 10 pages here and there (14 names/page - takes me about an hour uninterrupted to get that many done at once), and then I do another project to break things up a bit, so as to not lose my mind completely. We could've bought the list for $500. But I told the broker to save the cash, and I'd just work extra to get it done this week. I might need to take some home with me tonight and tomorrow, unfortunately. But I WILL get it done dammit!!! Super-admin to the rescue!!!!

The coworker and I were just going over the split of the admin bonus we're going to get paid for at the end of this week for the second quarter. It's weird, and we're bothered, and we're hoping we can get it fixed. This one chick is getting a split still even though she's not an admin anymore, but she's a full-fledged broker. So she's earning commission now. Shouldn't be earning a part of our bonus at. all. in our opinions. If it were a small percentage, then we might let it slide, but she's getting 17% of the bonus we split between us. Um, hello? Why? Hopefully, we'll be able to get it sorted out quickly, since the checks need to be cut today in order to pay us by Friday, as I understand it. I'm still getting a pretty sizeable chunk, but I WANT MORE, DAMMIT!! GIMME MORE MONEY! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Seriously, though, I've got a lot of shit to pay for, and I need as much as possible right now. And then I'll sit and excitedly wait for September's bonus to come along and help me s'more. 3 months never seemed like such a long period of time before I started getting these quarterly bonuses, I swear.

The other day, I was driving behind a car that had a couple of bumper stickers on it that bothered me. Of course, Maine's bumber sticker post was still relatively fresh in my mind, and made me take notice even though I usually just ignore that sort of crap. I noticed the one on the passenger side of the back window first. It said, "My Rebecca is smarter than your honor student." Um, ok...dumb sticker, but whatev.

Then I noticed the other sticker on the driver's side of the back window, and while it was a bit hard to read, since it was blocked partially by the rear-window wiper, I could still see that it said, "My Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever is smarter than your honor student."

So ok...this woman was neither original or very funny, it seemed. And she wanted everyone that drove behind her to know that she owns a weird breed of retriever on top of everything else. So she was super-cool, apparently.

My favorite part of the whole bumper-sticker fiasco that was happening in the back window of this lovely Subaru Forester was that the stickers were taped to the back window. Which, I hate to say, looks even cheesier than when they're actually stuck to the back of a car on the bumper. I'd even take a crooked bumper sticker over one taped to the back window any day. Even though I think bumper stickers are the dumbest thing a grown person can do to their vehicle, regardless of how they put it on there. I had them on my broken down old Chevy Blazer when I was in high school and college. Dad didn't like it, and usually took them off when I was home and not looking. I'd replace them the next week after he removed them. When he bought me the Acura Integra during my sophomore year in college, he told me he'd not hesitate to take the car away from me if I ever came home with a single sticker on any part of it. I was a smart-ass, and asked his permission before I put the parking sticker I was required to place on it in order to park on campus at Pepperdine. But I stuck to his rules, and ever since then, I can see what he means. They look tacky and silly.

And some of them say really, really inane, ridiculous things on them, so what the fuck is the point to having them. Your fucking dog is smarter than my honor student. Whatever. My ass is cuter than your face. Don't need that on a bumper sticker, for fuck's sake...I can just say it right out loud and get the point across all the same! Dumbass...

I gotta get back to my typing project. Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Another "fun" anniversary

Not much time today. I have a big meeting in about 10 minutes, and my stomach is in the most unruly mood this morning, so I’m really looking forward to sitting in a meeting for an hour, fo sho. :P The boyfriend is not feeling happy towards me right now - I know it and yet I don’t have anything to apologize for, so there’s nothing that can be done except to keep moving along as we usually do, and if he wants to talk, he can talk. (But he doesn’t usually, so I don’t know why it would change now.)

Today is a standardly crappy day for me anyway. If you don’t know why, hit this link , and it explains it all. I was up at 2 a.m., didn’t go back to sleep until about 3:45 a.m., and I wasn’t sure if it was part of the recurring memory I’ve had for the past 9 years (GOD! Has it been so long?), or if it was just the chicken I ate for dinner last night. I haven’t had a chance to go and pay my respects yet this year…I’ve been too busy every weekend, and it’s not something that can be done during the week, so I feel really off about the whole thing at this point. I’m really looking forward to heading down there on Saturday, and putting things at ease again.

Needless to say, I still wonder, even 9 years later, how different things would have been if Dan had lived. We weren’t meant to be together, that’s for sure, but would we still be friends? What would he be doing with his life right now? I really, really, really can’t explain how much I long for those questions to be answered.

And they never, ever can be.

And the lingering thought that remains in my head, regardless of how many times he tries to tell me otherwise, or how often I am able to reconcile it myself, is how I could’ve stopped it from happening. I was the only one that could have stopped it from happening. The punishment is relentless…

Monday, June 26, 2006

Happy medium...

Went to my second hot yoga class yesterday...it wasn't hot enough this time. I know, I know...I am one picky bitch. I felt too cool yesterday in class, and even though I still sweat a great deal throughout it, I didn't feel nearly as crappy as I did in the first class on Thursday, so I didn't feel like I got the same benefits out of it. Should I start talking backwards? Since that's how I look at everything in life anyway? Fuck.

Last week, I was driving down the lovely Shawnee Mission Parkway on my way back to work after having taken lunch at home to let the puppy out of her crate for a bit, and I wound up driving next to a little red Miatta for a bit. "Hm," I thought to myself. "That guy looks like Brad Pitt. Although I'm sure Brad Pitt wouldn't be caught dead in a Miatta, for chrissakes, and of course, he just had his kid and has no reason to be tooling around the streets of Kansas in a Miatta [I'm serious...this is what was going through my head], so I'm sure it isn't really Brad Pitt."

Then I had a chance to get next to the Miatta, and I glanced over quickly to confirm that it was not Brad Pitt. And it wasn't. Now he looked more like Ryan Seacrest. Which makes more sense, car-wise, but still not much in terms of why Ryan Seacrest would be driving down Shawnee Mission Parkway on a Wednesday in a Miatta.

Also, Brad Pitt to Ryan Seacrest? WTF?

So then I had to get over in front of the Miatta, as it was just the way the traffic was a-flowin' right then. And I glanced in my rear-view mirror again at the guy. (I don't know why...I was bored, or something...gimme a break.) "Hm," I thought again. "Now he looks like a guy I slept with a couple of years ago..."

Funny how those things work out, eh?

I'm buried at work...had to take some home over the weekend to do, in fact, and didn't get to do it until last night what with the way the weekend played itself out. Basically, I will be a typing, mail-merging, labeling fool for the next week, and I'm not particularly looking forward to it. Wish me luck...

Friday, June 23, 2006

Hot Yoga

Ok, so for those of you who have experienced this phenomenon, the title to this post should say it all. For those of you who haven't yet experienced it, then let me tell you a bit about my first time. (And even if you have already experienced it, then you should still read this post, if not for any other reason than to nod your head a lot in agreement. As we all know, nodding in agreement is GREAT exercise, so it's a post that's good for you, and I'm all for promoting good health, dammit.)

Here’s where I go for my new Hot Yoga classes…I am bound by my checkbook (and my stinginess) to go to 4 more classes within the next 14 days. Since I’m a new student there, I got the "special" deal of 5 classes for just $30, which isn’t a bad deal, really.

Especially if one is keen on dying in a sweaty, hot, nasty pile of goo after 20 minutes of yoga in a room that is being kept at a lovely, sweltering 110 degrees.

Benefits of this type of yoga? During the course of the class, I think I sweat off the equivalent weight of a small child in water alone. I am wearing jeans today that I washed on Sunday this past week, and haven’t worn yet since I washed them, and I didn’t feel the need to stretch them out a bit before wearing them someplace like a full day at work, as I usually do. They buttoned right up, and were comfy and everything, so that’s a nice feeling. Plus, I feel the usual benefits of yoga-type exercise…I feel all stretched out and relaxed and like my muscles are happy that I used them for something other than sitting, walking around the house, and lying down in bed. That’s always a good feeling.

Downside of this type of yoga? Early on, I started looking at the clock to see how much longer we had to continue with this "exercise" (read: torture), and I was deeply and sorely disappointed to see that only 15 minutes had passed when I first glanced at it. When I looked again, it was only 5 minutes later, and I was certain, certain!, that I was going to be the first person to bolt out the door, never to return again. The teacher (I like to think of her as being a prettier, taller, funnier Hitler. I actually started calling her Ms. Hitler in my mind about 5 minutes after the class started…not my fault, really. She had a German accent, and was the deliverer of something evil…) told us that if we felt the need to sit down, to please do so, but please try to stay in the room. As soon as she said that, I came to the realization that she was clearly reading my thoughts, and this was a more dangerous woman than I had previously considered her to be. I was sure that very soon, she would start the general brainwashing and then anal probing of the class that I figured must occur after the first half hour, since by then, we were all sweaty, submissive piles of goo and that’s the best time to perform all brainwashing and anal probing, as I understand it.

I seriously felt like I was going to throw up about 25 minutes into the class, so I thought it might be best to heed her advice and sit down for a bit. Basically, my body felt like it was combusting, but doing a slow, painful burn starting from the inside out. After a couple of minutes of sitting, I felt less nauseous, and stood up to join back in. I wasn’t alone, by the way…there was a skinny blond chick in the back of the room that was sitting down, too, so it’s not because I’m some fat girl, or whatever. I had to sit down a couple more times, in fact, (as did the skinny blond chick, as well as a couple of other people that made it longer than skinny girl and me before they had to sit down for the first time) and I wasn’t embarrassed to do it. I think it would have been much more embarrassing to have to carry my mat out carefully so as not to spill any vomit, so sitting down when I felt the need to was a good idea, I think.

As we finished the class (YES! I made it through the whole thing!), I planned on stopping quickly at the super-bendy man’s mat and stealing the bottle of Gatorade he had, but when I glanced over at him as I gathered my mat and towels (which were both soaked, by the way, as were my clothes from the skin to the outer layer of tank tops I was wearing…), it seemed he had already finished the entire thing, so that plan was foiled. I had a bottle of water in the car waiting for me, and I was very happy about that, but the problem was, I appeared to be craving something more…beer-like in form. Which was weird, I thought. I joked about needing a beer as I left the bathroom with my coworker that attended the class with me, and only got one laugh from one of the girls at the sink. Hm. Appears as though hot yoga attracts some more stick-in-the-mud, non-sense-of-humor types than I realized. All the rest of the girls gave me looks like, "Um, you did NOT just say that, did you? Fat slob…" (Don’t worry, I rubbed my sweaty, sweaty ass against at least 3 car-doors before I left, so I’m sure I got a couple of them back. And it wasn’t on purpose, really. I just needed to rest a few times between the yoga facility and my car in the parking lot, so it was incidental revenge in a way.)

I didn’t cool down very quickly, either. I noticed about halfway home that my skin felt like it was cool, obviously since I had the AC on in my car, and all. But the insides…my muscles, even my bones, still felt warm. It was a very funky sensation. But that’s the point of hot yoga, apparently. You’re heating up the internal parts of your body, and after an hour and a half of doing it, I believe it. I don’t see it as being cardio work, per se, as my coworker does, but I have to say that when I was sitting down and resting those few times during the class, I felt my heart rate was elevated, and I’m not sure what does that…so maybe it does have an element of cardio to it. I guess I’ll figure that out over time.

I’m really, really, really hoping that my body gets more and more used to the hot room with each class I take. While I still think it sucks royally to exercise in such an environment, it did do quite a number on me physically, so it’s attracting me to it just because of that alone. I’m thinking that if I do 2 classes a week, I could easily lose several pounds in the next couple of weeks. Not only do I feel so icky after the class that it makes me not very hungry (last night, I finally ate some soy yogurt, some brown rice, and had some grapefruit juice after I’d cooled down…), but the sweating…the sweating alone will definitely make me lose a bit of the extra, unnecessary water-weight I carry with me every day.

So there you have it…my first experience with hot yoga, and my feelings about why I would choose to continue after such a hellish first class. Besides the money issue (1 class for $30 is not economically sound in my mind…however 5 classes for just $6/class? That works for me), I really think that incorporating yoga into my regular weekly routine will help me physically and mentally over time.

(Oh, and they have a student referral program, by the way. If anyone lives in the KC area, reads this, and thinks, "Hey! That hot yoga shit is just my style!" then please send me an e-mail…my address is on my profile. I’ll give you my real name, and then you can let them know that I referred you when you go in for your first class. FYI, they also have Pilates and regular yoga classes there as well, so it isn’t just a bastion of evil, heated-yoga hell. They have an awesome schedule of classes (I’ll probably do one during the week, and then one on the weekends from now on), and it’s a great, big studio they hold the classes in. It’s nice.)

Thus ends the odyssey of my first Hot Yoga class, ever. It has to get easier from here on out, right? Right.

Dammit, just agree with me, ok? It’s easier in the long run…

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Carpal Tunnel made me do it...

I have to stop working. I swear, it hurts my hand to type stuff for work, but not for my blog. Weird, no?

Ok, I lied. Typing that last sentence still hurt a bit. Dammit.

I'm having a problem, folks. It's a problem with the boyfriend and money. We don't combine incomes, by any means. I'm a big fan of keeping separate accounts and all that good stuff, really. Everyone should be in charge of their own money they make, period.

At least, this is how I felt before the boyfriend moved in with me and I saw how he dealt with money, paying bills, saving up, etc...Or, rather, how he doesn't deal with it.

I don't know what it is about me...I know I'm anal, and I'm somewhat conservative with my cash, and I plan ahead when it comes to big purchases and working out how I'll pay them off, etc..., but I don't know if I'm unusual in this respect or not. (My finger really is bothering me...it sucks quite a bit, lemme just say right now.) I grew up in a conservative home where money was pretty much not a problem by the time the Twin and I came along, but it wasn't like we were Paris Hilton, or whatever. We had limits, I knew the value of a dollar, I felt the responsibility to take care of myself was generally an impending doom as soon as the age 16 or 17 hit my life, and by the time I was 22, I was completely financially independent of my father.

I know everyone develops at different speeds. I know that not everyone handles money in the same way. But here's the thing I don't get: I MUST write every transaction occurring through my checking account down. If I don't, I won't know how much money I've spent, and how much I have left to spend on bills, groceries, toys, etc...

The boyfriend is one of those free-wheeling types. He looks at his online info every other day or so in order to see what kind of cash he has. While this is a somewhat good practice, I have to say it wouldn't work for me. For example, I wrote a check last week for $23 to a doctor's office (big shock) that hasn't been cashed yet. I'd forget about such a check if I didn't write it down in my check register, and go back over said register when my online info and the register's bottom line don't jive. (I balance my checking info about every 3 days, give or take a day here and there. I'm really, REALLY anal, I know. But, then again, I haven't bounced a check since 1992. Yep. You heard it right. Anal-retentiveness pays off now and then, eh?) If I'd forgotten about that check all together, I might freely spend another $20, thinking I had it to spend, and then the check would get cashed, and I'd spend another $3.85 buying a morning bagel and Diet Coke, and suddenly, I'd owe the bank $25 for an overdraft because I thought I was safe buying a goddammed Diet Coke for $1.50!

That, my friends, is not good home economics to me. AND I NEVER EVEN TOOK THAT CLASS, DAMMIT!!

The boyfriend gets these little notices from his bank every month, and they aren't statements, and they certainly aren't checks, or even thank you notes for being such a lovely customer. I know that he is receiving overdraft fees on a regular basis, and this is maddening to me. I would be OUTRAGED if $25 of my hard-earned money was taken from me because I did something as simple as forgetting that I wrote a check to someone and needed to account for that amount being removed from my balance in the near future. THAT'S MY MONEY, so HANDS OFF YOU FUCKING BANK PEOPLE!! That is how I feel about it. (Nothing against people who work in a bank...especially those helping to handle my money in particular. Seriously. I just don't like the ones that collect fees, is all.)

So I'm having a hard time reconciling the way I deal with money with the way he does, and isn't that the way of most relationships? Yep, I know I'm not alone.

But that doesn't make it any less frustrating, really. I offer to help build a budget...he says he doesn't need one. I tell him that even if he's only putting $50 towards his savings, it's better than nothing...he stares blankely at me. I remind him that, even though I make $3,000 less than him per year, I still manage to put away over $500 a month into savings...because I HAVE TO!...he starts to move towards the door to make a quick getaway to his next favorite thing in the world next to a room where discussions about money are taking place, i.e. work.

I just don't get it. And it's hard to deal with, and I hate it, and dammit, why do I even care since it's not MY car that needs to be registered, and it's not MY car that got in the accident with the Escalade last year for which someone owes $1,200 to the owner of now, and it's not MY mouth that needs pricey dental work that needs to be done and ohmygod it's only getting worse and it's only gonna keep getting worse and he's stopped brushing with any kind of regularity again and how does one stand the furry feeling on the teeth??, and oh yeah, it's not MY car that is making a funny sound because a belt is loose and the longer it takes to get it in the shop the more chance of having a bigger (and more expensive) problem to deal with once it DOES get to the shop.

But it is my boyfriend's car, and his teeth, and his car again. And I love him, and want him to be happy, and part of happiness, IMO, is being secure financially. And how can one be secure financially if they have absolutely no handle on their finances?

It's frustrating. So keep that in mind, all of you who choose to rely on the power of your memory to help you through the month with your finances. If you're able to pull it off, you must be a genius and a very lucky person. But if not...if you owe money to places, and you barely have living expenses that you can't even keep track of to pay properly, and you STILL receive overdraft charges from the bank and you're over the age of 20? Learn the lesson...get on it now. It takes me about 3 minutes a day to review the charges I've made against my checking account, and I'm much more secure because of it, seriously.

Now if I could just figure out how to help the boyfriend without scaring him out of my life, I'd be golden. *sigh!*

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Trump!


I'm sorry, but I think this picture is cuter than the one Belligerent Intellectual has on his Daily Dump today. Holy cow, polar bears are cute when they act like dogs!

(Almost) All clear!

Ok, so I didn't need to have a biopsy performed, thank God. The doctor didn't see anything on the surface of the cervix that made him worry, and while there might be things hiding further up, he's more inclined (due to my reliability with keeping up with my annuals every year, as well as the general health of my hooha every year when I get my pap, plus the whole "no insurance, and I'm paying for all of this myself, dammit" thing) to just have me come back for another pap in 6 months and see what's going on then. It was a low grade abnormality anyway, so he said that with something like that, it would take about 10 - 15 years for any kind of cervical cancer to develop, and with me being good about keeping my appointments every year, he's not worried that something will develop undetected, or whatever.

Again, he's a really good guy, and a very good doctor, so I trust his opinion a great deal. And I'm really glad it's all over, and I don't have to keep shelling out money to their office every week! The billing lady gave me a 20% discount on yesterday's appointment (it was $204, but I only paid $164 and some change...again, not sure what makes the variance in price on the exam, really. It was later in the day, so maybe I wasn't as "fresh" as I'd hope to be for those sorts of things. Also, the doctor had a hard time finding my cervix...apparently, it's shy. So maybe that hikes the price up, too...), so that was helpful. They're all really nice there. It makes it easier to deal with when people aren't being all sterile and assholeish about it, you know?

So that's done. *Whew!*

Thanks to everyone for being so supportive throughout the last week, when I've been everything from scared out of my wits to depressed and pissy to just plain lackadaisical about the whole thing. It was exhuasting emotionally, and I hope I don't have to go through something like that again anytime soon.

Tonight, I start "hot yoga" with my coworker. There's this yoga place in town that just moved to a new, bigger facility, and they're offering 5 classes for just $30 for brand new students like myself. I'm excited and a bit worried. My coworker said that in hot yoga, they keep the room heated to 110 degrees, to which I say, "Wha's that? Come again? WTF?" But apparently, it's a really good feeling to sweat that much shit out of your body all at once. I think I'd better take a beach towel with me...I sweat pretty badly as it is in a normal, 75 - 80 degree yoga class. I can only imagine the sweating that will happen in this class! I'm looking forward to it, though. I haven't been very good about working out over the past couple of weeks, and I got sore muscles in my ass and legs from simply giving the dog a bath on Sunday night, so yeah...been too lethargic, it seems. I do love me some yoga!

I'm not in an entertaining mood this morning, I think, so I'd better be off and getting some actual work done. Happy Wednesday, all!

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Recent News Faves

Oh my God...what was a 6 year old doing on a ferris wheel BY HIMSELF??? I don't care how tall a kid is, if they're younger than 12, they shouldn't be on a ride by themselves, particularly one as free-seating as a ferris wheel. Damned carnies...

I don't know if I'm amused or just annoyed with Mark Cuban at this point. But I think I'm leaning more towards agreeing with Mike Kahn , and I want to tell the Mavs to just shut up, already. CHRIST! Funny how they don't make nearly as much noise about officiating when they actually win a game, eh? Juvenile retards...

This story sort of made me laugh yesterday. And my immediate thought at the headline of "Naked Intruder Beats Up Woman" made me think, "Um, excuse me? Some naked guy breaks into my home and then tries to beat me up? Is he kidding? His junk is right out there for the kicking and or grabbing with my long nails, and he thinks he's going to get away with attacking ME? I don't THINK so!" But then I saw that he woke her up by hitting her on the head with a vase, and I realized he wasn't playing fair. It wound up being a good thing for her that he was basically just a huge cockroach, and he ran away when she turned on the light. Very weird story, overall. Makes me want to make sure the boyfriend understands what I mean when I tell him to please lock the doors before he comes to bed. Sometimes, he interprets my request as, "Please leave the doors unlocked, so anyone can walk in the house if they want to." One time, he actually interpreted my request as, "Hey, leave the back door to the porch open a smidge, so robbers that are being discreet and are trying to enter the house from behind so as not to be noticed from the street can actually get in without making any noise at all, ok? Thanks hon!" I keep trying to explain to him that if I tried to make an insurance claim on missing items, and part of the police report actually says "home-owner did not lock doors", I might have a bit of trouble getting any pay out from my insurance company that way. It might be even tougher if I've been attacked and killed in my sleep by a raving lunatic as well. I dunno. Maybe I'm being too hard on him sometimes.

Then again, maybe I need to take a harder stand on the locked-door thing. Perhaps I could get some "pointers" from this woman. (Sorry...bad joke. Couldn't be helped, really.)

Today is my appointment for the colposcopy with the gyno, so wish me luck and think good thoughts and all that. I got my bill for the tests that I had them run when I was in there last (for ghonorrhea and chlamydia) when I went home last night, and each test cost $98, so probably not the best choice to have it done on my part. So send money on top of the good thoughts, if you wanna. (Nah...just kidding...I'm getting a bonus at the end of this month that should help pay for a lot of this shit. You know, because I didn't want to use it for anything else, or whatever.) So far this month, I've given about $500 to my gyno office/the lab they use for tests, and today I'll have the opportunity to give them even more! I'm soooo excited! Fuck!

I'd also like to let everyone know that this blog is being considered for the "Best of..." issue of The Pitch this year. I answered some questions via e-mail yesterday, and while I'm not sure when the issue comes out, I have to say that I'm really pleased that they're considering me for it. I'll let you all know how it turns out.

I need to get moving, though...short day today, due to The Procedure, so I've got a lot to cram in before I leave. Have a good day, everyone!

Monday, June 19, 2006

Lessons Learned

Match Point. Just...don't. I turned to the boyfriend at one point toward the end and told him that had I seen it in a theater, I would've walked out. Bad, bad, bad...I seriously haven't seen such bad acting since that last play I was in in the 8th grade. Horrendous stuff.

Evening weddings have become more interpretive when it comes to proper attire. My friends that got married on Saturday had the ceremony starting at 6 p.m., and then the reception pretty much started about an hour after that, and while the whole thing was pretty relaxed, I couldn't believe what some people wore! This one girl was wearing pink jeans and pink flip flops. Another gentleman wore a blue polo shirt and some khaki pants. He was with a woman that was wearing what I guess were her nice pants and a blouse. I wasn't bothered so much by her until I saw who she was with. I really think they were prepared more for a picnic than an evening wedding. And while I was comfortable, I still put on a dress, some heels, and some sparkly jewelry, for chrissakes. I guess I'm just weird like that, though.

I really cannot express enough how crappy of a movie Match Point is, honestly. I can't believe I watched the whole thing.

I went to Home Depot yesterday to buy a proper saw, as the boyfriend and I are putting a doggie door in the new storm door we had installed on the back of the house last week. We'd like to encourage the puppy to head out whenever she needs to, and also to help us remain as lazy as possible as we are tired of having to get up and open the door for her every time she needs to (or seems to need to, anyway...sometimes, it's just her faking it) go out. I finally got my ass out of the house at about 4, since I was still kind of recovering from the effects of such a shitty, shitty movie, and decided to hit the 'Po before I went on to the supermarket to do my weekly shopping. There's a barbecue place in the same center with the Home Depot, and holy shit, that place was crowded! As I was leaving the parking lot, I marvelled at the amount of people sitting outside the place, and wondered aloud what the HELL they were giving away there!

Then I remembered what fucking day it was. Der.

See, this is what happens when you live 1,500 miles away from your family, and you send Father's Day cards the week before the day even happens. Once the day actually arrives, you forget that it's a special day. Dad was travelling back to the Vegas house yesterday, so I felt that calling him would be tough as I wasn't sure when he'd be there. Plus, we just talked on Friday, when I called to speak to him about my girlie thing that's happening tomorrow, and he wants me to call him and update him after that, so I figure I'll find out how his Father's Day was when I talk to him this week, and he already thanked me for the card since it got there on Thursday last week, or something. I dunno...we talk maybe once every 3 months on average, so the fact that I've talked to him twice in the past 2 weeks is already weird to me.

But I thought it was funny that it was the barbecue place that was so crowded yesterday. The Red Robin next door was pretty full, too, but I saw people walking over from their parking lot to the barbecue place, so that might've been deceiving, really.

So anywaaayyyy, now I own a jigsaw. Which makes me an even more awesome chick than I was before, dammit. (Not that I'm gonna be using it. The boyfriend started the hole in the door, and the boyfriend can finish it. I don't wanna be responsible for killing my new $300 storm door*. He already put a hole into the rubber thingy that lines the bottom of the door when he was drilling the starter holes for the saw to fit into in order to saw out the top and sides of the hole for the doggie door. So he's well on his way to being responsible for that all on his own, it seems...) I don't really know what other uses we'll find for having a jigsaw in the house, since we rarely put doggie doors into things. Maybe after this, though, we'll find more reasons for using it. Hm. This could be interesting. Doggie door to the garage, doggie door to the front yard...no, no. That'd be a bad idea, wouldn't it? Maybe I could use the jigsaw to cut down the enormous branches I have that fall out of my trees every year that I have to bundle and place at the curb for collection with the trash. Perhaps, at some point, I might have gangrene in one of my limbs, and I still won't have insurance, so I'll need to just lop it off myself at home. What more fitting tool for a limb lopping than a jigsaw that cost me just $29.95 at Home Depot?

And with that, I'll bid adieu. Later...

*To be fair, the door itself only cost about $140. The installation and "delivery fee" are what took the price up to a total of $299. Crazy-ass Home Depot installation fees. Absolutely insane, IMO...

Friday, June 16, 2006

The Friday Run-down...(literally)

I finally heard from the billing lady at the gyno office. Apparently, she thought I still had insurance, so she didn't think it was urgent to contact me regarding the cost of the procedures. On Tuesday next week, I will be having a colposcopy performed for the low, low price of $164 - $243. (I'm not sure why the price vaires so much...maybe if it's an extra-stanky chick, they charge more, or somethin'...) If they need to do a biopsy, the specimins they retrieve will cost $200 each. She also explained that even if the doctor only takes one specimin while he's doin' his thang, if the lab tech decides he needs to split that one specimin into 3 bits, I will then be charged $200 per specimin. FanTABulous!

She then told me that if I ask to see her when I'm checking out of my appointment, and I treat her real nice, she might just give me a little discount on the procedure. I think I might take her some brownies, just in case that buys me any special love...

She was real nice, actually. Everyone in that office has been. I decided to have a test for gonorrhea and syphilis while I was there last week, just because I've never been tested, some of the guys I slept with in the last two years have been questionable (particularly the pilot), I didn't know about the girls the boyfriend had slept with in the couple of years before we started seeing each other, and as they are the types of diseases that can hang out inside ya without you really knowing, so it just seemed the smart thing to do. (Of course, this was before I knew I was going to have to spend another minimum of $164 in that office within the next two weeks, and I haven't the first clue how much the labs are gonna be for all this shit when it's said and done, dammit.) When I told the boyfriend that I'd decided to order the tests, he said he was tested last year and was fine, actually. Oh. Good to know. I still didn't know if I was ok, though, but the nurse called me on Wednesday to tell me that my tests had come back negative, so YAY! Again, the point of this story was to tell you that (a) that nurse that called me was really nice, too, and (b) I don't have any gross STD's, which is a miracle. I've slept with a total of about 13 or 14 men in my life, and I've only used a condom once. Yep. I'm awesome. (Yes, I know the answer to that rhetorical statement is, "Um, not really." Shut up.)

Ok, so there's that. I'm too tired to think about all that shit today, though. At least, for now I am.

The boyfriend went to a bachelor party last night while all the girls were at the wedding shower for the girl that's getting married this weekend. I had no problem with whatever they decided to do with themselves for the evening, and knew they'd be out pretty late. I got home at about 10:40-ish, stayed up with the dog as late as I could, and went to bed at about 12:15, I think. At 11:00, the boyfriend's phone rang, letting me know that he had left his phone at home accidentally. I didn't notice it sitting in it's little charging spot in the living room until it's hellish ring-tone sounded, and to be honest, I didn't think much of it. He was out with people who knew my number if they needed me, so I went to bed not worrying about it.

Until about 12:40 a.m. when it rang again, waking me out of a sound early-sleep. I went to see who was calling at that time. And I got sick to my stomach when I saw that it was one of the guys that the boyfriend was supposed to be out with.

Now, I'm a worrier. It's something that mom passed on to me, and if I could get rid of the trait, I would. I work on it all the time, actually. But last night, several scenarios popped to mind immediately following the call to the boyfriend's phone from his friend that he should have been out with. First, I worried that there'd been an accident. Second, I worried that they were in jail. Third, I thought that perhaps they'd become separated, and he was trying to locate my boyfriend by calling his phone, not realizing he didn't have it with him. Fourth, I considered that his phone had dialed the boyfriend accidentally, as seems to be a plague among phones that belong to boys. (I receive calls from the boyfriend's ass regularly. I used to receive them from my old friend Michael now and then. I've never, ever received a call from a girl's ass...which goes to show something, I think. Namely that girls are better at setting their phones so that the buttons can't be pushed by random shifts in a purse or in a pocket or what have you. Boys are notoriously bad for that inability, and it's maddening to me. MAJOR pet peeve, honestly. Oh, and I refer to it as being called "by their ass" because the phone is usually placed in a back pocket, and so it's usually being leaned against by said body part when it hits the ol' redial button, causing the call to be made by - you guessed it - the ass. I'm not sure if this is a common term for that particular issue, so I just thought I'd cover my bases there.) I worried so much because my phone had been off while it was charging, and I thought that the friend had tried to call me first, and was unsuccessful, so I felt he had decided to try calling my boyfriend's phone, knowing it was there, and hoping that I would answer after seeing that it was him. My mind is a powerful, frightening thing when I let it run wild.

So I immediately sent a text message to the friend of the boyfriend that called, and asked him if everything was ok, as his call had awoken me from my sleep, and wasn't he with the boyfriend? I then went to the bathroom to empty the contents of my belly, which is usually what happens when I start to worry so suddenly about something. (This side-effect of sudden worry is particularly obnoxious during tornado warnings...just when I'm supposed to be protecting myself in a hallway away from windows and the like, I find myself stuck to the toilet releasing a mass stream of whatever the contents of my belly are out of my house of crap. It sucks.) When I was done there, I sat up for about 20 minutes waiting to hear back from the friend, but nothing happened. So I went back to bed, hoping that they weren't sitting in a jail cell, having not been able to reach anyone to let them know what was up. Or worse: that they weren't at a hospital, and the friend had given up trying to alert me to the fact that my boyfriend was in a deep coma caused by whatever had happened.

I'm not kidding. This is what was going through my head as I tried to return to sleep.

The boyfriend got home at about 1:40, though. I yelled. He yelled, as well as he could in his drunken stupor. He finally passed out, and I couldn't sleep because, of course, he passed out on mostly my side of the bed, and so I went out to the living room to read and lie comfortably on the couch while I tried to cool down a bit.

I didn't go back to bed until 3:30. So I. Am. Tired.

Before he passed out, though, I did apologize for yelling at him, and I tried to explain why I was so worried. I kept talking, and finally realized that he had passed out somewhere in the middle of it all, but I thought that we were not too mad at each other any more. This morning, I said goodbye and told him to have a good day, and he pulled me to him for a hug and kissed me twice, so I think he was sorry, too. (He had apologized for leaving his phone at home, which was all he could do, as he had no control over the fact that his friend's ass had called his phone while they were out.)

But I'm still tired. I want to go back to sleep, and my stomach is still feeling the effects of the worry, the subsequent fight, and probably the exhaustion I've lead my body to with my awesome reactive nature.

And that, my friends, is one rambly post. Gotta go...

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Confession...

Ok, it became clear to me last night: I'm scared. I'm not just bothered by the idea of what this trip to the doctor is going to cost me, I'm also very clearly bothered by the potential outcome, which is pretty natural I s'pose.

And just to be clear, I'm not waiting to hear from the billing lady about the cost of the "procedures" just so I can decide whether I'm gonna have them done or not. I'm waiting to hear so I know how much I need to pull out of my savings to pay for them without having to use my credit card, yet again, in order to cover the costs. It was estimated by doctors that my mother had colon cancer for up to 5 years prior to it metasticizing to her liver and causing her death. Had she been receiving colonoscopies on a regular basis after she turned 40, then she might not be dead now. So the plan for me? First colonoscopy when I turn 35, and then probably another one when I'm 38, and then annual colonoscopies after I turn 40. No, it won't be fun. But I think cancer sucks a bit more than having a tube put up your ass every now and then. Just sayin'. I'm not afraid of having things checked. Not at all. And I certainly do not think that it's more important to save money to buy a new dress, or some shit, than it is to make sure that my body is in good healthy working order.

Last night, the boyfriend came home and shared the news that we had been asked to perform a task at his/our friends' wedding this weekend. Mind you, I thought we were in the free and clear...sometimes, people just look forward to attending a wedding, and not having to do anything while they're there. I'm one of those people. I love to contribute to the day by offering my good wishes, celebrating with the family, and giving presents (usually money). So when he came home and told me that his friend had called and asked us to do this, and then added that he said it would be "a favor", my heart sank.

This week has been a far cry from being an easy one for me. I've been overwhelmed by loads of tasks at work, what with the coworker being out of town, and then mom's death anniversary on Tuesday made me feel sadder than it usually does, especially after I heard about my cervix problem from my doctor's office. That made me want my mommy. I'm depressed, feeling more than blue much of the time, and my body image right now isn't the best. I have bought a cheap Target dress to wear to this wedding, and am banking on the ability of accessories to make me look presentable and fashionable, but I haven't tried it all on together yet, for fear of what it will do to my already waning enthusiasm towards the event and my need to be social. So when the boyfriend said that we had been asked to be ushers on Saturday, my first thought was, "But that's not even something a girl should be doing! That's a boy's responsibility!" Yes, I'm being irrational and selfish and a downright asshole, really. The outfit we got for my boyfriend makes him look great. He seriously looks very handsome and put together, and I've been telling him for two weeks how crappy and icky I'm gonna look standing next to him at this wedding. So my second thought was, "I don't want people to even be looking at me." I started walking around the house, freaking out, and then the boyfriend said we need to help seat people at the reception too (???) and I was dead set against it. Then he said something about helping to cut the cake, and I told him I don't know what to do there! I don't even cut birthday cakes when we have them at the office! I'm a big proponent of getting people cupcakes, actually...no cutting necessary! So the boyfriend said he can handle that. (I can help him plate, I'm sure...)

So he said he'd call his friend back, and he did. He went outside to talk to him without me hearing what he was saying to him. I sat inside the house and cried. Cried about the fact that his friends seem to be starting to hate me because of who I am and what I do and how I handle my social life, and now I'm pissing even more of them off. Crying because I'm tired, and I'm sad, and I miss my mom, and I'm afraid of what's happening to my body without me even being able to feel it. Crying because I'm a fat pig that can't even find a decent and cute dress that fits me from a nice place like Banana Republic or Anthropologie to wear to special occassions like weddings. Crying because I'm afraid people won't understand what's happening inside of me, and will just think I'm a selfish asshole, which I really am, I guess.

Great. Now I want to cry again. Excuse me...

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Anthony Bourdain, how we love thee...

The boyfriend and I are Anthony Bourdain fans. I personally have an affinity for him because I think he is an already grown-up version of my boyfriend, what with his tall, lanky figure and his penchant for the cancer sticks, but it's also because he's damned entertaining. He has a show on The Travel Channel called "No Reservations" on Monday nights, and while he sometimes eats things that I can't even imagine Fear Factor considering making their contestants eat, I've been able to watch pretty much every episode of his show without feeling the need to throw up. It's only happened twice: one time, when he was visiting Iceland**, and he sat down with a family to eat a seal that had just been killed (no cooking...no utensils...just a family of about 8 sitting on the floor of their kitchen around the carcass of a freshly killed seal, eating it with their hands. They looked like wolves, I shit you not. And then, THEN the grandmother offered Tony the most prized part of the seal, and of course he couldn't turn it down as it would be incredibly rude to do so, so he accepted it...and he ate it. He ate THE EYEBALLS of the seal. I seriously had to shut my eyes and squirm around squealing as he did it until the boyfriend poked me to let me know when it was over. Grossest. Thing. I've. Ever. Seen.), and then this last week, on his show from Korea. I didn't think this would bother me as much as it did, but he visited a restaurant that made parts of the chicken that we don't usually eat here in the good ol' USA into dishes that looked like General Tsao's Chicken from your fave local Asian food place. But these weren't normal chicken parts. Uh-uh. They were cookin' up feet, inards, and THE ASSHOLES of the chicken! But in Korean, they refer to them as dumsai, or something. Which literally translates, according to Tony's guide on the trip, as "house of crap". So they're sitting there, eating the assholes of the chickens, and they keep refering to the "house of crap" thing, and I'm simultaneously crying with laughter while trying not to wretch at the thought of chewing on the asshole of a chicken.

So from now on, I will heretofor refer to my asshole as my "house of crap". Because damn if it isn't free and clear of any confusion of what I might be talking about, eh? Earlier this week, my house of crap was on fire from trying to release something I had eaten that hadn't agreed with me. See? It's just so clear. Those Koreans are smart cookies...

**Not that anyone will notice this update almost a month after the post was written, but I just found the info on the No Reservations site that the seal-eating occurred in Quebec, not in Iceland. This has been a point of contention between the boyfriend and I for a while, so I'm glad I found out that both of us were wrong (he thought it happened in Alaska...even though I don't remember Tony even going to Alaska this season. Or last, for that matter.), and found the truth through the help of the photos section of the No Reservations website. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't misleading anyone that reads this...

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

This day gets better and better...

My gyno office just called me. My pap from last week came back abnormal and showing some signs of things that need to be investigated on my cervix. Awesome.

Now I get to go in and have my gyno (who really is a very nice, really cool guy) look at my cervix with a tool the nurse refered to as being like binoculars. And if he finds anything, then he'll do a biopsy.

Great. I'm soooooo looking forward to that.

I know that this is actually a very common procedure, and it's nothing to be afraid of, and it's not really that. It's that I don't have the money for this. I asked the nurse that called me to please have the billing lady call me and let me know how much the procedure will cost with biopsy and without, so I know how much to pull out of my savings for it.

I mean, dayum. Can't a chick catch a break? Christ!
The A/C at my house is fixed. It was the condensation line…backed up due to the way it was installed under the house. Yet another thing the last homeowners did to fuck me over. Well done there…it’s been almost 3 years since I bought this house, so the lasting effects their departure have had on me are really well played, IMO. From the "fixed" dry rot in the bathroom to the lovely hole in the sewer line to the plumbing in general that runs uphill under the house, and now the way they set up the condensation drain line from the A/C unit…awesome. They were the best hicks to buy a house from EVER!

Work is still hell (coworker is still out, and the intern is choosing this week as the one where she’ll be calling in sick with the flu, apparently, so I have to do HER work as well), but at least the A/C is on here today…yesterday it was having issues and it remained stuffy at my desk as a result.

I’m tired from some tossing and turning I did in the middle of the night. Not sure why. Just happened, I guess.

It’s the 8th anniversary of my mom’s death, so that sucks all on it’s own.

I really, really, really wish I could just head to the park today, to read, drink a big Diet Coke, enjoy the last of this lovely weather we’ve been having before it heats back up again to the mid-90’s, and not have to deal with any people all day long.

But I’ll suck it up. Like I always do. At least the people I have to deal with aren’t even near as bad as the ones I used to have to deal with at my last job. Exponentially better, really. It’s not even funny. Much like this post...sorry.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Pitch the woo with my baby tonight...

First and foremost this morning, let me warn everyone that my A/C decided to up and become difficult on me yesterday (it still pushes out cold air, but the condensation drain is backed up or something, and so it is simply dripping down the face of the unit inside my house. Not good…pool of water under the unit, spreading out on the floor surrounding the unit, and dripping down all the wiring and electrical components of the unit in order to pool as it is. Bad, bad, bad…And what's weird is that the main condensation drain that I have leading about 3 feet away from the house under a tree in the backyard appears to be in full working order, as there was a big puddle of condensation next to it yesterday when I checked.), so I’m not all here today. I’m tired, I’m on the heavier side of being a cranky-pants (trying desperately not to misdirect my anger and frustration while at work), and I now have to shell out God knows how many dollars to get my A/C back on track. While it didn’t seem to get warmer than about 78 yesterday outside, somehow my house managed to get up to 81 degrees inside, and it did not cool down, no matter how many fans I had running or how many windows I had open. By the time the boyfriend got home last night at about 11:15, I was sitting on the edge of my favorite chair in my living room, trying to avoid the dog who was consistently trying to lounge on my hot and sweaty lap, and keeping my eyes peeled for the fucking mosquito that had hit me twice on one leg and once on the other already. It took about 3 minutes for total meltdown to happen once he arrived home, and after I crawled into bed weeping, the boyfriend did what any smart person would do, and drove to the 24 hour drugstore up the street to get a big box fan. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? All I can imagine is that all the dust that I inhaled while cleaning out the vents under the A/C unit in my house, combined with the heat I had been exposed to pretty consistently for the 8 hours I was in the house after the A/C initially broke, caused me to go quite suddenly retarded. Because the box fan combined with windows as wide open as we could make them go made the bedroom cool down relatively quickly. I even wound up sleeping under the comforter for much of the night, I was so cooled down.

Unfortunately, the rest of the house stayed at a steady temp of 80, and was still having trouble cooling down as of this morning, so getting ready for work kind of sucked, but at least I had a goal in mind, and got to get into an air conditioned car to go to an air conditioned office, and am sitting rather comfortably right now. I’m tired though. Didn’t go to bed until 12:30, and I had taken a Benadryl, so I feel a bit weak, is all. I’m hoping that breathing the clean, cool air in the office will help me get better really quickly.

That said, the rest of my weekend went pretty smoothly. Friday night, there was a bachelorette party for a friend of mine that I’ve gotten to know via the boyfriend. She and her fiancĂ© (who went to college with the boyfriend) are getting married this coming Saturday, so five of us got together on Friday night for a glorified girls’ night out, really. It was a good time and I’m glad I was feeling as good as I was by the time it was time to head out. (I’d gotten a stomach ache again after lunch that day, so I was afraid I was going to be a pooper for the party. But I wasn’t! I don’t think, anyway…)

We started the evening at a bar called Blonde that’s not too far from my work on the Plaza. It’s a cool place, especially if you get there before 9, since no one else goes there that early. (I hate crowds.) Half priced appetizers and $5 martinis and 2 for 1 drinks…yeah – I like that. I wasn’t feeling too hungry, though, so I didn’t eat anything, and it wound up working out fine since my first drink was pretty weak. The weird thing? Somehow, I wound up paying $15 for 2 drinks, which doesn’t make much sense to me, but whatever. Sometimes, that’s just what happens when you go out with a group I guess. We all decided to order our drinks separately at the next bar we went to, which worked out best anyway due to it’s layout.

So we moved on to this place downtown (called "NV"…yep. Just the initials.) that I hadn’t been to before, and it wound up being pretty cool. Not a place I’d go every week, or anything, but a decent place overall. It offered us the opportunity to dance, peoplewatch, and have relatively cheap drinks (the beers were only $3.50!), and I believe we all had a good time.

But here’s the weird thing: both of these places we went to have these "Reserved" signs sitting on a bunch of their tables. At Blonde, I had heard before that as long as you’re gone by 9:30, then you’re fine. The waitress said we could sit there as long as we wanted "if we bought a bottle" but I didn’t know what she meant, and we weren’t planning on sticking around that long anyway, so we didn’t care. But we ran into the same thing at NV, except in their case, they had a little menu on the tables around their super comfy couches that we were sitting on. The menus listed certain alcohols at different prices…$175 for Jose Cuervo, $200 for Absolut or Jaeger, and $225 for Crown Royal and some other shit. It talked about how you could get mixers to go with the alcohol, but I stopped paying attention really after I saw the Jaeger being offered for $200. Really? People will pay $200 for a shitty alcohol like that? Is the bottle the size of a small human being, or something? WHY the FUCK would someone pay that much for a fucking bottle of alcohol?

So I asked the cute little waitress (Angie With Amazing Boobies) what the deal was. I had to push through a crowd of people who thought they were VERY cool in order to get to her, but she willingly answered my questions about the set-up. I told her I couldn’t imagine spending so much on bottles of alcohol. Why did people do that? "Well," she said, "they get to be up here instead of down there [we were on a different level, two whole steps down on the same level as the dance floor, where I was sitting on a bar stool with another one of the bachelorettes watching the crazy people dancing all night], and they get to be served by me!" This was true…waiting in line for one beer and a glass of water earlier, I had been cut off by no less than 2 "gentlemen", the second of which I stopped from ordering before me by saying, "Pardon me, but I was here first sir." The bartender helped me first, but the guy wouldn’t even LOOK at me. I had been waiting for just over 5 minutes, and there wasn’t any way I was letting that jackass just jump in there because he thought he was cooler than me. Asshole. Anyway, I thanked Angie for explaining it all to me, and walked away laughing. Those assholes pay a minimum of $175 for a bottle of alcohol (for 4 people, mind you…if you have more than 4 people in your party, then you have to order another bottle – I just looked it up online. You can see what I’m talking about here) just to hang out in a different part of the bar, and to be on a different level than everyone else. Very weird.

And ohmygod, didn’t realize there were so many badly dressed women in Kansas City. I mean, I knew we weren’t perfect, or anything, but these women were wearing skirts that were just not right, people. This one girl was walking around in one of those baby doll dresses that were popular back when I graduated from college (1996, yo), but she’d "updated" it by untying the top, exposing her bra and half of her breasts. She just looked sad, more than anything else. Disgusting.

But! Very entertaining! I had a great time, and was really happy that the maid of honor in the wedding turned out to be such a cool chick. We sat and talked about people and just watched it all as it went down. We weren’t as keen on dancing as the bride and our friend Alisha were. So they danced and we sat and it was all good.

And that is the story about the bachelorette party. This week, we have the wedding shower on Thursday night (I know…don’t get me started), and then the wedding on Saturday. I already warned the bride that I would have to take advantage of that whole have-a-year-to-send-the-gift thing, since I didn’t want her to think that I wasn’t giving them anything at all. I just can’t afford it right now. And that was before the A/C went bye-bye. Now I’m even more in a fix, and will likely have to beg out of being able to take the bottle of wine and the bottle of champagne I had planned to take with me to the shower on Thursday night. I feel like an ass, but my credit card is stretched tight as it is, and I’m really doing well with the whole not using it thing, and don’t wanna stop now.

Ooh! Wait! I get paid on Thursday! I’m sure I can afford $20 worth of alcohol to take with me to the party! Whew. I’m glad I remembered that!

So hopefully everyone will stay cool this week (how they ever got along without A/C back before it was invented is beyond me…) and have a relatively mellow time of it all. Think cool thoughts for me and the boyfriend, kay? Hopefully the weather will stay cool today and tomorrow, like it’s supposed to do…

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Just one more dress


Here's the favorite dress from Target that I picked up when I went to the store last weekend. I didn't see this one online, but it's probably there...I wore it out on Friday night to a bachelorette party, and felt like I was one hot chick. (More about the bachelorette party on Monday...)

I'd encourage everyone to grab dresses like these from Target, but I really don't wanna run into other people wearing them, so I'd stay away from them, if I were you. Really. It made my ass look fat, seriously. (I just don't mind looking like I have a fat ass. Since I do. Have one, I mean. Whatever...)

My A/C is broken, I'm hot, I'm gonna go sit in a bathtub full of ice water now...ta!

Friday, June 09, 2006

The best decisions EVER!

Somewhere along the line in life, I picked up the general amount of common sense that I now possess. Somewhere, without me noticing, it planted itself firmly in my brain, and while it has slight lapses now and then, for the most part, it doesn’t let me down.

I was telling a story to my coworker the other day about a stupid move that the Twin and I made when we were about 7 or 8. Mom was set to pick us up outside the library at a certain time, and when that time came and went, the Twin and I were left wondering what we should do. Obviously, mommy had forgotten to pick us up. (She was probably about 5 minutes late, at that point.)

Our wise decision-making skills led us to the conclusion that we should walk home. It wasn’t very far (in our pea-sized brains, anyway) – just about 2.5 miles, or so.

So off we went. Across the big intersection (in our defense, there really only was one big one we had to cross, and we did so properly, of course – with the signal, when we had a "walk" sign and everything), and then down the little side streets that wound their way toward our home a couple of miles away. Fortunately, my mother knew loads of people in that town back then. We were also on a swim team and fairly involved in lots of other activities, and so moms and dads throughout the area were familiar with our family, and us in particular since we were "The Smith Twins" and all. It didn’t take long for a mother of a friend to recognize us, stop her car, and ask us what [the hell!] we were doing. When we explained what had happened, she knew (of course) that our mom was probably frantic with worry wondering where we were, and while I’m fuzzy on remembering what we did at that point, I think she drove us back to the library first to see if mom was still there. Regardless, we eventually caught back up with our mom, tried to explain our "logic" and "reasoning" behind starting the trek home, and were probably very lucky that mom was against spankings of any kind.

This is the kind of "sense" that one has as a child. My coworker was angry with her 8 year old son last week because he’d ridden his bike outside the boundaries she had set for him. They live in a pretty small town in Missouri, though, and she got a call from a woman that recognized her son, letting her know that he was hanging around outside the gas station she works at. When my coworker asked her son why he did what he did, his reason was simple: "Because I didn’t think I’d get caught." Huh. Well, one can’t argue with that! But the coworker assured him that they lived in a small town, and pretty much everyone knew who he was and who she was, and would let her know if they thought something "shady" was going down. Then she grounded him for 3 weeks, including taking away his bike-riding privileges. I told her the story about the Twin and I walking home when we were little so as to give her some perspective on how children sometimes don’t make the best of decisions. Her son isn’t alone. (She’s a single mom…I like to help them whenever I can seeing as I feel bad for people who have kids in the first place, much less the ones that have to raise them all alone.) I’m sure she knows that kids do stupid things, and I think she handled it really well, considering. I can’t remember if the Twin and I were ever really punished for what we’d done, it’s been so long. But we didn’t really get punished for anything, most of the time. (Except by the housekeeper. She used to smack us when we would cry when she put us down for naps. Made me cry harder, actually…but housekeepers can be dumb like that, I s’pose. She was nice the rest of the time, really.) Mom was probly just so happy that we hadn’t been kidnapped, she might’ve cooked us our favorite dinner and given us an ice cream cake from Baskin Robbins that night to celebrate our survival of the Big Walk Home.

This is something that I cannot comprehend in my currently adult-sized brain. Why did we ever think it was a smart idea to start walking home? Did we really think mom forgot about us? HOW COULD WE HAVE BEEN SO VERY, VERY DUMB??? This isn’t to say that I’m perfect now and don’t make several dumb decisions every year, in fact. Last year, I made loads of them, what with the men I was choosing to date/sleep with, and the money I spent on beer and smoking. God, how I wish I could go back and change some of the decisions I’ve made throughout the years! I wonder how different things would be for me? I’ve heard it said that regret isn’t a positive or healthy thing to feel about decisions one has made, but I can’t help but feel it! I think it’s only human to feel regret when it comes to what we might see as being "a bad idea" when we’re able to look back on them several days/months/years down the line. Does it help when it comes to that certain decision we regret? Not likely. But can it help us form better decision-making skills in the future? Absolutely.

Here’s a list of things that I regret I ever did as an adult, and wish I could go back and change:

- I wish I had treated my mother better when I was a teenager.
- I wish I had chosen not to have sex with the Scientologist boyfriend that last time. In his car. Up in the hills above the Celebrity Center. (Even though it was a fun fact to be able to throw into his mother’s face when I called looking for him 2 weeks later. HA! Stupid Australian cow…)
- I wish that I had chosen to go to music school instead of getting my English degree back when I was 18 - 21 years old.
- I wish that I had been able to remain a size 8 for all these years.
- I wish that I had gone to visit the dead boyfriend on the night he died, instead of lying in bed awake all those hours wondering if I should do so.
- I wish I had not wasted all those years pining away for Doug the way I did.
- I wish I hadn’t slept with 3 of the guys I slept with last year. What a waste of time they all were!
- I wish I had enjoyed Paris more when I lived there back when I was 20. (3 months. In Paris. For FREE! WTF was wrong with me, eh?)
- I wish I’d had more guts to say what I wanted to say to the upper-management assholes at the last company I worked for. While I still worked there, I mean.
- I wish I’d known about the cheating boyfriend dating that other girl for a month before he decided to break up with me. I would’ve gotten over him much faster had I had the opportunity to kick him in the balls, I think.
- I wish I hadn’t put all my bonus money from 1997 into that stupid EA Sports stock.
- I wish I’d have sold my shares of that other stock (that I can’t remember the name of) when it hit $47, instead of waiting for it to split, and then to split again, and then to split again. I would have had $40,000. And instead I wound up with only about $12,000 when it was all said and done. And that was plain ol’ stupid, dammit.

And that’s all I can think of, for now. Time to get back to work. Because I’m a grown up, and it’s just the best decision for me at this point in time.

I think I'm drowning, asphyxiating...

Ok, Blogger is better, it looks like. And so am I, after a small bout of food poisoning yesterday. Lunch was NOT friendly, it seems. But this morning we're back on track, and ready to do bidness, babay!! (Um, kind of...well, we'll see as the morning progresses, I s'pose.)

Work is still crazy-buzy, but I'm trying to spread the work out a bit, so hopefully the newer admins that we've hired can work on some of the crappy backlog that I have sitting on my desk...things like addressing postcards to send out, and creating new marketing booklets. I have to do maps and create flyers, since I'm the only one with the proper programs to do that sort of thing, but I can definitely pass on the other work. Definitely. (For some reason, I find it difficult to ask for the help in the first place, though. I don't know why, really...do I feel bad that they're getting what I consider to be crappy projects to work on? I mean, someone's gotta do 'em, so what difference does it make WHO it is doing it, right? Whatever...)

I'll write more later. So much that I've been wanting to say over the last few days, and no outlet to actually say it, what with Blogger being unhappy and all! It's been a bit frustrating to say the least...

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Is Blogger gonna play nice today, d'you think? I suppose that remains to be seen. I've been pretty busy, and will be again today (I have a main coworker that usually helps me out with work, helps me keep my sanity, makes me laugh, etc...that has been out sick all week, and then she's going on vacation next week, so I've been dealing with loads more issues than I'm used to this week), but will find time to post later, I'm sure. Bah!

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Coworker Conversations

I like the variety of people I get to work with here at my new job...most of them seem to get my sense of humor, and that's a very good thing, since I can be kind of hard to deal with unless they do get it, IMO. I've been pretty busy for the last couple of days, and my brain is mush at this point, so what I thought I'd do is share a couple of e-mail conversations that I have with some of my favorite coworkers. One of them made the Twin laugh, it seems, so hopefully they're mildly entertaining. They've GOT to be more entertaining than any original info I could pull out of my brain today, so enjoy...

*********************************

Coversation between newbie coworker who I work with the most on projects. He'd sent an e-mail to the wrong person, which started us on the following tangent:
Coworker: Not sure why I sent that to her.....
Me: My brain is on hold today with certain things, too. I just ate some veggies, and hoped that would help somehow.
Coworker: I thought you said you had a wedgie
Me: It's a good thing you have a little boy. Perhaps, when he's older of course, he'll be someone you can count on to appreciate "your kind" of humor.
Coworker: clearly can't count on you to support me in my quest for humor........
Me: Well wait a minute, now...if you need help with humor, you've probably done the best thing you could've ever done in coming to me for help with it! I'm very funny.

Shut up.
Coworker: funny looking yes, but funny? eh
Me: See, that's what I'm talking about right there, man. Not too funny. It's what us kids refer to as "dad humor". My dad has it too. I think every dad catches it at some point or another, but you just got the short end of the stick and got it a bit sooner than most, it seems.

I can give you my dad's number, and you guys can crack each other up some Sunday afternoon, how's that sound?
Coworker: why do you have to accuse me of having a short stick?

*********************************

Another "conversation" we had followed me exlaiming one day at about 2 p.m. that I was shocked that I hadn't had a single e-mail come across since 9:30 that morning. Here's what followed:
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Coworker: [blank e-mail]
Me: Don't make me touch your monkey. (It should be helpful to know that he has a silly monkey in his cubicle that makes a monkey yelping sound and wiggles it's legs all around when it's squeezed in it's crotch region. It was apparently something he "earned" through the Christmas party gift exchange we had this year.)
Coworker: Yes ma'am.

*********************************

The other coworker I tend to have conversations with via e-mail is the receptionist at the other end of the office. Here's the one we had a couple of days ago:
Receptionist to entire office: Is anyone missing a fax from the Johnson County District Attorney?
Me to receptionist only: I'm not missing a fax, but I seem to have misplaced the million dollars that I swear I had on me when I came in today. If you find that, let me know, kay? Thanks!
Receptionist: Ya, I found that. I asked around. . . no one claimed it so I went ahead and gave it to charity. Sorry about that!
Me: Oh, yeah right! You found a million bucks and you gave it to charity. Um, what would that charity be called? "The Associated Fund for [receptionist's] Sunday Fundays"? Smarty-pants. :P
Receptionist: That's it!! How did you know! Great organization, your donation was greatly appreciated!

*********************************

So I hope that was fun for all of you. I need to go and kill myself with work again today, so see y'all later!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Kitten heels, schmitten heels...

I can't walk in narrow-heeled shoes. I think my feet are broken, and they turn in in a funky way that doesn't allow me to walk "normal" while I'm wearing cute little narrow heels.

And when I'm carrying a load of stuff like a backback full of yoga clothes, a bag with my lunch, AND my purse all at the same time? Yeah, I might as well be walking along on a tightrope, I wobble so much and look so completely retarded. It's awesome.

Just thought I'd share.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Money doesn't grow on trees? You sure?

Shit. These last couple of weeks, I've been spending money like I have it. I really, really, really need to put the credit card down, and just walk away. After my appointment I had today with the gyno, I shouldn't have need to use it again for a while, so I really might just take it out of my purse and forget about it for a while. Seriously. Just not good.

"'Ello, Sue! I've got legs! Do you like bread?"

Not sure why I needed an Eddie flashback just now, but apparently, the brain needed a break. What can I say?

Ok, so I'm wearing one of the new Target dresses today to work, and I'm loving it. Comfy, cute, working well with my curves...I knew it was a good dress when I woke the boyfriend up to say goodbye this morning and he said, "That's a nice dress..." That worked for me. He doesn't usually say much about my clothing. So just out of the blue like that? Lovely.

I haven't taken any more pics of the new dresses because I just went and returned a bunch of them to the SuperTarget not too far from my house on Saturday and Sunday. I just didn't have a chance to snap photos before doing it. I went out there on Saturday to return the sack dresses and realized they had all the dresses in stock that I had been ordering on line. So I tried on some different ones, found an AWESOME one that I didn't know would look as good on as it did (it looked sort of shapeless and icky on the hanger), and then found a cute top, too. It was good trip. So when I went back out there with the boyfriend on Sunday, I went ahead and returned the dress I wasn't so sure about, and the one that didn't fit me at all, since I decided being frugal was the best route at this point. I'm very proud of myself, really.

I had such a lovely weekend, really. Until it all came to a screeching halt last night when the dog decided it was time to behave like she was retarded all of a sudden. I had just finished laundry, and it was time to put the towels away. One of the rooms that is off limits to the dog is the bathroom, as there is a bath rug in there that she loves to pee on. So I keep her out of there, usually. But last night, I was putting towels away in there, so she was in and out with me while I did it...lying down, getting up, wandering around my feet trying to trip me - you know, the usual thing.

Next thing I know, she squatting, staring right at me, and peeing on my brand newly washed bath rug. I FLIPPED OUT, to put it mildly. Made me want to toss her across the room, really, but I restrained myself, called her a bad dog in my loud and firm voice, and then put her out on the back deck to contemplate her decision to piss off mommy like she had (a.k.a. to wander around and smell things and watch the bugs fly around the light by the door).

I needed to give her a bath, was the thing, and I didn't want to be rough with her about it, so I calmed myself down, brought her back inside, invited her back into the room where she'd just done the thing that made me angry, and then washed her little body and made her clean and happy again.

So then we went to play a bit...I wanted her to dry as much as possible before going to bed, so she wouldn't be all damp in her crate all night long. So we threw her little stuffed kitty a bit, and she ran around and had fun, and then she disappeared into the kitchen. "Yes," I said, "Let's go out one more time so you can go poopy before we head to bed..." She came running in to me as I put on my flip flops. "C'mon, big girl! Let's go outside!" And as we walked into the kitchen, I gave my normal glance around the room, and saw that it was too late. She'd already decided to go ahead and poo right on my kitchen rug in front of my sink.

To say the least, I was not very happy. This time, she knew she'd done something wrong, fo sho, as she slunk away from me and ran into the living room to get away from me as I tried to put her outside again. (The yelling I was doing might have given her a clue, too...not sure.) I gave her a short smack on her nose when I caught up to her (she runs away and hides...on the couch. You know, 'cuz I'll never find her there!), and then put her outside again while I cleaned up and tried to calm down a bit AGAIN.

She was pretty scared of me when she came back in, and we made nice-nice before she went to bed because I don't believe in making a dog feel it is "punishment" for them to be placed in their kennel/crate at all. But I did pop her in there a good amount of time before I went to bed, which is unusual for me. But I needed the "me" time before I crashed. I washed my face, flossed and brushed my teeth, watched a bit of Iron Chef, and then headed in to bed when I was feeling a desire to lay down on the couch and sleep.

Conclusion from last night's activities: dogs are a pain in the butt. Probly not news to most of you. But I thought I'd mention it all the same.

Ok, must pee, must find lunch, must do work, etc...latahhhhhh...

Friday, June 02, 2006

Last one of the day...and it's a doozy!

Ohmygod, I have to poo so badly right now, it hurts. My whole stomach feels like it's about to turn on me and just head out the small of my back. But I'm not in the mood to poo at work today. Not sure why. I've gotten quite comfy with it over the last few months, but not today...not this poo. This one seems like it's a-gonna linger. Yep...so I'm saving it for home.

And I bet the Twin just loved that paragraph! I said "poo" 3 times in just a handful of sentences! I am awesome.

And on that note, I want to alert everyone that loves her to the fact that Sheri (TKC Girl) has moved again...I updated the link in my blogroll, but in case anyone who regularly reads her was thinking she's still on a break, she's not. Yay!

Happy weekend, everyone. (Only 10 more minutes, dammit. I might just sneak out early...)

Question for you...

I've got a question on my mind that's been bugging me since yesterday. Help me out and let me know what you would've done in this situation if you were me...and if you're all worried about being judged and shit, remember that I'm being honest about what I did. (Plus, you can remain anonymous in the comments if ya want.)

Ok, so yesterday, my coworker and our boss and I were heading to the other side of the Plaza to go to Kinko's to pick something up that we had made. As we walked up the street outside our office, my coworker saw a girl across the street that she knew, and they wound up standing and talking to each other for a moment. My boss and I stood around sort of chit chatting while the girls talked.

Suddenly, a woman across the street fell down as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. Seemed her shoe had slipped off her foot, she lost her footing completely due to the shoe lossage, and she fell face down, sprawling on the sidewalk on her belly.

Now, there were two people very close to her when this happened. One was a younger girl who was already down the street with her back to this woman when she fell. Se turned around, and went to help her. The other person was an older man, and while he stood a bit off and away from where the woman had fallen, he was talking to her, so I assumed they were together. The woman looked a bit shaken up, but eventually got back on her feet, collected the bag she'd dropped during the fall, put her shoe back on, and went on her way towards the parking lot she was next to. The man went another direction, so it turned out they weren't together. The young girl that had helped her had been dismissed by the woman when she sat up and assured her that she was fine.

I watched all this happen in a rather periferal manner. I was close to the fall, but when I saw that two people were there to immediately help the woman initially, I thought it would be overkill to run across the street to help as well. My boss didn't notice, or pretended not to notice what happened, as did my coworker and her friend. (To be honest, I think my boss was trying to figure out the proper time to enter himself into the conversation with my coworker and her friend, as the friend was a young, thin, pretty blonde girl. But he got his...she turned out to be the daughter of a collegue, and when he introduced himself to her and she reminded him that they'd already met - in fact, she interned for him last year - he felt pretty cool, I think. Heh.) I thought it would be best to pretend I didn't see what happened, since adding to the embarrassment the woman had experienced in the initial fall wasn't what I felt like doing right about then.

But was I wrong to do that? If you saw a 65 year old woman fall on a sidewalk, and two other people rushed to her aid, would you leave it be as well? Or would you rush to help?

GO WAVES!!

My alma mater's baseball team will be hosting part of the NCAA Baseball tourney over the next few days, and today they play Mizzou. Yeah, good luck fellas. Pepperdine is the #1 seed. I'm thinkin' they might just advance on over y'all, but we'll see...I don't pay much attention to college baseball, but of the few sports Pepperdine competes in at Division I level play, baseball is at the top of the list of well-played sports. Basketball has struggled ever since they made it to the Elite 8 back in 1993, I think it was. Waterpolo (boys) and volleyball (girls) are the only other sports that they tend to excell at, as I understand it. But when I saw across the news ticker this morning on my fave news channel that they would be playing Mizzou, I felt it warranted mention. Because it's not often that one of the local schools here in KS/MO have to play against my very own alma mater. So GO WAVES! Beat those Tigers, YEAH!!!

I needed it to be Friday sooo badly today, so I'm really glad it is. Tonight, I will veg in front of the t.v., watching things like Most Haunted and a recorded show that was on BBC the other night (it's about Gordon Ramsay, that crazy-ass chef in London that yells at his subordinates. I love watching him, if for no other reason than to try to stretch my ability to understand what the fuck he's saying half the time. He's insane...) after I spend a bit o' time with my gutters on my house. I think I'll clean out the gutters on the front of the house tonight, and Lord only knows when I'll get to the back ones. It's going to be hot here this weekend. And it will only continue to get hotter over the next few days after that, it seems. The heat is expected to break next Wednesday, according to the weather guy this morning. It's supposed to cool down to 85 at that point. Awesome.

I got my new dresses from Target, and I was very pleased with one, ok with another, and have to lose 15 pounds before the third one will fit me properly, and even then, it's a short dress, so it needs to be worn with jeans, or something. Crazy ass styles these days...I might take pics of the dresses I like tonight. We'll see. Thanks to everyone for their input on my last post about my dresses, though. Very sweet of you all to agree with me like that. I LOVE it when that happens!

I'd best get going. I have work to do, amazingly enough. Plus, breakfast just arrived, and I wanna check that out. Later!