Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Overwhelming crappiness...

I'm tired. Not as tired as I was on Monday, but tired all the same. Ugh.

Here's what I have going on:

1. We're replacing the windows on the front side of the house...just set up the appointment for the install next Friday.

2. I am meeting with my 3rd contractor tonight after work regarding the possible replacement of my heating and cooling units in the house. Only one bid has come even close to what I was planning on spending on the process (which my dad doesn't endorse at all, and why can't I get that thought out of my head at all???), but 2 of the guys have been really nice and knowledgeable and professional throughout their bidding process, which I appreciate. I hope this last one will be the same. The first one was an asshat and not worth discussing at all.

3. I'm keeping up with my 4 workouts each week, which includes my twice-weekly meetings with my trainer for a 1/2 hour each time, and then 2 other cardio workouts on my own. I'm trying to be consistent with getting a 5th workout in each week, but it's been tough. I'm working on that, though.

4. We're attempting to find a travel agent to meet with. We have a meeting on Saturday, and while we had one last night, apparently we didn't really "have" one after all. (The chick we were supposed to meet with wasn't there, and when one of her coworkers called her for us, she spoke to the fiance and explained that she had us down for next Tuesday night. The fiance said that when he spoke to her last week, she had set the appointment for "next Tuesday." To him, that meant last night - as it would to any normal human being. To be fair, unless they discussed dates specifically, which is what I would have done, I can't fault this woman entirely. But since I love my fiance and not the stupid fucking travel agent, I will fault her for the most part, and I'm cancelling our appointment next week. Besides, her office was icky and smelly, and when the fiance first explained that we might be interested in flying first class, she objected to that and said something about how we should "save our money for the hotel expenses." Um, bitch? I think...I's our money and we should be deciding how to spend it. Dumbass.)

5. We will be heading to our "Engaged Encounter" weekend next week, which isn't as sexual and gross as it may sound, but rather is a requirement for us to attend prior to getting married in our church. It starts on Friday night and goes through Sunday night. It's going to be good for us, and all, but I shudder at the thought of all the things that I usually do on the weekend to "catch up" which will not get done. Sleeping in my own bed being one of them, dammit.

6. I need to call the kennel and arrange for the dog to be boarded starting next Friday morning.

7. We're having a new shelf from C&B delivered on Tuesday.

8. I need to stop myself from thinking about how the FUCK I'm going to pull off a garage sale sometime during the month of April. (I can do it, I can do it, I can do it...)

9. I need my sister and our best friend to be able to set aside some time in their busy, busy lives (if mine sounds sort of busy, add a baby or two pre-teen daughters, and mix well. Warning: this does NOT make yummy chocolate easy life!) to try on bridesmaid dresses and help me decide on The One That Will Be Worn before my hair falls out from the stupidity of the stress it causes me to not have that task done yet.

10. We need to register.

11. I need to call hotels and set up blocks of rooms for people to have available for choices of places to stay when they come into town for the wedding.

12. I need to contact the caterer to set up a meeting to start discussing details.

13. I need to pay the next part of the deposit to the photographers. But I'm waiting for their bill to arrive in the mail. How do I stress about something that hasn't even been sent to me yet? I. Don't. Know! I just do...

14. I need to contact the event planner at the Boulevard to see if those hideous chairs that they had in the room the last time we went to see it are the ones that will be used for our event, too.

15. I need to order chairs for the event if those are, in fact, the chairs that will be used,

16. I need the meeting makers through Outlook to STOP ALREADY!!! Good LORD, how many meetings can a man have? Christ!

(Answer: A man can never have too many meetings, apparently. Sad...)

17. I need to contact the landscaper to see if he can give me a bid on the work I'd like him to do in the yard this year.

18. I need to follow up on the house painter guy. Why hasn't he called me with his bid yet? That's bothersome. (But he's soooo good!)

These are just the things I need to do that I can remember right now. I know it doesn't seem like much when compared to others (like, for example, the Twin and the best friend who manage to juggle seriously busy lives with the task of dealing with children, too), but it's all relative. I feel stressed. I feel like I'm forgetting stuff. I feel like I'm not doing the best job I can at work because I'm tired and stressed out and still new and trying to get a grasp of stuff. And when I think about the fact that I somehow need to manage all of these tasks into a life that only allows about 4 - 5 hours per night during the week and about 16 hours a day during the weekends, and during those times, most people don't conduct business, so I need to find a way to fit them into my already amazingly (amazingly!) busy day of work from 8 - 5 on Mondays through Fridays, well...things just slip away.

Which makes my heart beat in an uncomfortably fast way.

And also makes my neck hurt.

And also causes me to dip into the coworker's candy jar a bit more often than I'd like to.

I'm not depressed, though. Thank God for that! I'm just busy. And it's crappy.

I need a task fairy.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

I do it for the ratings...

Nothing good in the news today, unfortunately. So it’s all me. Me, me, ME! (I love me…)

I’ve collectively gotten 10 hours of sleep over the last two nights. Thanks to the Oscars, I stayed up well past my bedtime on Sunday night, and still got up to go work out yesterday. Last night was “date night” and I watched Sideways for the first time, which was entertaining, but I don’t think it was as amazing as people had made it out to be when it first became popular. Again, though, stayed up well past bedtime, and needed to get up even earlier today than I did yesterday, so that sucked.

And if you’ve read THIS far, then you truly are a friend. And I will now reward you with some well-earned snarkiness…

I apologize in advance for this story, but as many of my page hits and visits lately have been generated specifically by my discussion of the shower at the gym or the locker room at the gym (yesterday, actually had someone hit me from a search they ran on Google for “gym shower stories” so there’s that…), I figure I’ll keep the traffic moving by continuing on this theme every now and then. Especially as it is tending to be one of the more interesting parts of my days as of late. Gotta feed the animals here and there, or they’ll just wither and die.

Yesterday at the gym, I got to see a fair share of boobies that I, personally, would have preferred not to have seen. One set was just right there on display as I walked from my locker area to the sink area. The chick was putting on her bra, and while she did it, the boobies were a-flyin’. Now, I’m all about a reserved degree of modesty in the locker room, as I think I’ve discussed somewhere on this here blog before. (Probably back in July or August, since that’s when I started going to this particular gym on a regular basis before work…) I understand that we don’t all get our own private rooms to change in, and incidental viewing of boobs, ass, or other nekkid body parts might occur. That’s kinda what I see this chick’s display of boobage as being. She was changing. Understandable. I prefer to turn myself toward my locker while I’m doing that sort of thing, but whatever floats her boat. She had nice boobs, so maybe she shows them off like that whenever she gets the chance.

But then, when I returned to my locker from the sink area after I was done with makeup and hair stuff, I came face to face with my most unfavorite type of locker room attendee: The kind with little-to-no modesty at all. There was a woman who had a locker near mine who had taken off her top, but left her shorts on (I guess I can thank the modesty-gods there, at least), and was hanging out by her locker doing something or another – I didn’t really look all that closely, obviously. She had her shower stuff on the bench that was right by my locker (and which is where I put all my stuff down before loading it back into my duffel bag after I’ve gotten ready), so I kind of stopped for a second after I got there, trying to figure out what to do. She apologized for having her stuff in the way, but didn’t move it at all, and kept going about her business of being half-naked while preparing to hit the shower. But it didn’t seem like she was really DOING anything. Maybe she was searching for something in her locker? I dunno…she spent what I consider to be an inordinate amount of time stripping down, wrapping up in a towel, and actually getting her ass into the shower. I’m all for a leisurely time of getting cleaned up after a work out, if one can afford to do so, really. But not like that. Not in what I consider to be an indecent manner. But I’m prudish like that, I guess.

I told my trainer about the chick with the nudist-colony mindset when he and I were working out today (i.e. while he was killing me by slowly chipping away at my muscular structure on my entire upper body…), since she’s a client of his, and I thought that I could try to make him as uncomfy as possible since he does the same thing to me twice a week. And he told me the same thing that the fiancé told me when I shared this story with him last night. “Oh, you should see the men's locker room. No modesty at all going on in there.” I told him that the fiancé had said the same exact thing, and what the fuck? And he told me that you just walk in there some days and those things are all over the place. (I’m assuming that I don’t need to explain what he meant by “those things” so I won’t waste my breath!) He said, “I really hate the guys that stand around in the sink area, getting ready and shaving and stuff…” I was all, “NO! Really? Holy shit…at least the girls in the locker room tend to at least wrap up in towels by that point. But that just isn’t decent at all!”

And I thought that loogie guy on the other side of my cube wall was bad! But naked penises just wandering around in the locker room? Why? Why do that? How is it necessary at all?

I am SUCH a prude! Christ!

Monday, February 26, 2007

Eyes wide dry

Cake lady, why doth thou sendeth me an e-mail giving me the idea that my business is of interest to you, and then never respondeth to my e-mail in return?

Oh well...doesn't matter, really. Found another cake lady that I like just fine, and she won. So, nyah. :P:P:P:P


would like...

to fart. Right now. (Not gonna, though.)

My eyes are slowly deteriorating, y'all. A little over a year ago, I went to a new eye guy for a new set of contacts and possibly some new glasses somewhere down the line, when I could afford them. As I recall, I wound up waiting about 40 minutes past my set appointment time when I first went to see him, because of all the walk-ins with problems that apparently took precedence over new business. Shoulda been my clue, but as we all should know by now, I'm terrible at seeing those clues, dude. Man! I wish I could fix that about me!!

I have an appointment with a new doctor on the 8th of March, and I can't wait. I swear, it's like I'm waiting for prom night to come along, I'm so fucking excited to see this guy. I'm really hoping that severe permanent damage hasn't been done by these shitty-ass contacts I've been wearing for the last year, especially since I've got what I've been referring to as a "floater" in my right eye as of late. (It's a little dark spot that becomes apparent when I'm looking at a light surface...not directly in my line of vision, but in a periferal spot that annoys me and makes me worry about what's causing it.)

I'll be sure to keep you all posted as to the updated happenings on this riveting topic as they develop.

Ok, the important stuff...what was your favorite part of the Oscars last night? Mine was when Ellen asked Clint Eastwood if he would take a picture with her for her MySpace, and when he agreed, she then asked Spielburg to take the photo!

I also enjoyed the Will Farrell/Jack Black/John C. Reilly number. Very foonay.

And I'm tending to agree with the folks that are trying to figure out just what Beyonce was so growly about when she was singing those Dream Girls songs. What was with that? Not pretty. And let's take a cue from Whitney, ok? Listen to how she sings...and then listen to how she talks...and realize that belting like that can really do some damage. Permanent damage. Not good for your career that relies upon the beauty of your voice kinda damage. That is what microphones are for! Let them do all the work, eh? Fuckin' a...

So tell me, what was your favorite part?

Friday, February 23, 2007

Save a few extra places in hell...

It was bound to happen. Two clowns were killed at a circus performance in Columbia. Not saying they deserved it, but c'mon. They were clowns. There's a special place in hell reserved for clowns. Clowns freak me the fuck out, and I'm not alone in that feeling. The only people who like clowns are other clowns. So, yeah...loss of life is always sad and especially in the case of murder seems a bit more sad than usual.

But they were clowns.

Just sayin'...

(I like how the police chief that's handling the case says that they're, "...investigating the motive." Um, dude? Clowns. Hell-OOO!!?)

Thursday, February 22, 2007


Ok, that was SO not awesome.

Just went to the bathroom, and let me give you the quick set-up: 2 chicks are in there just having a conversation, because, you know, that's normal. Then there's this other chick who I notice is walking from stall to stall, peeking in them (which is fine, since they're all empty), and flushing the toilets in a couple of them, for some reason. (They're auto-flushers, so maybe it's the swinging stall door action that's causing them to flush...that'd make sense.) I choose my favorite handicapped stall that's close to the door because it's open and there's no one in the stall next to it.

So I'm going pee, and in the meantime, stall-checking chick decides she's going to choose the stall right next to mine! Ok, we all know how much I hate this shit to begin with, so there's that. But also? ALSO?...

When she closes the door to her stall (again, right next to me!), it bumps the wall to my stall, which causes the lock on mine to slip, and so MY STALL DOOR OPENS RIGHT UP. WHILE I'M MID-PEE!!

Of course, the two chicks that think that the ladies' room is the perfect place to have a civilized conversation are still going at it by the sink, and totally look at me as I say the first thing that comes to my head which is, "Excuse me?!" And the girl that started to go into the stall next to me started to come back out to see what was up, so that worked well in my favor. So I had to stop myself from peeing to GET UP AND CLOSE THE STALL DOOR! While the chicks who are having a conversation look at me, and then back to each other, as if this is a totally normal everyday occurrence.

So I say to the chick in the stall next to me as I close the door, "When you went in your stall, it opened my door. WHY THE HELL DID YOU CHOOSE THAT STALL?" Surprisingly, she didn't have an answer for that question, but just sort of said, "I'm sorry," sort of meekly, and then I finished up, and washed my hands, and got the fuck out of there, giving the women who had been having their conversation in the bathroom, but had now moved OUT of the bathroom (um, directly outside the bathroom door...still an asinine place for a conversation, IMO), a dirty look.

AUGH! I don't know what else to say, except, WHAT? THE? FUCK?

Not a good end to this day, people. Not at all.

But, I don't know anyone in the Middle East...

We have a landline phone in our home for 3 basic reasons.

1. The alarm system is hooked up to it. When the alarm is set off, it’s what communicates that there’s a problem to our alarm company headquarters, and then they call immediately to see if it was a false alarm, or what.

2. I’m old fashioned when it comes to 911. I don’t think they can trace a cell call nearly as quickly as they can a landline call.

3. In case I have a meltdown with the cell phone, I have a back-up method for contacting people or for having them contact me.

Mainly, that first reason is the most important one, though. Can’t hook up the alarm to a cable phone line yet. So when the landline rings, it usually startles me a bit. Last night, it rang JUST as I was settling in on the couch to watch Top Design on Bravo, and it sort of pissed me off. I thought it might be my dad calling to follow up on something or another, but figured that was unlikely, and then it stopped ringing after 2 rings anyway, which pissed me off even MORE.

I’m smart, though…took it with me back to the couch. And sure enough, it rang again about a minute later. I answered, and no one spoke back. I sat there for a moment, and then hung up, since it usually takes two people speaking to each other to make a phone conversation possible.

About 3 minutes later, it rang again. And, again, silence on the other end. This time I stayed on until they hung up…which it took them about 3 or 4 seconds to do.

Less than a minute later, it rang again. Sure, I was getting pause time on the TiVo for the show, but it was really starting to chap my hide. I answered the phone, received the silent reply, and said, “Look dude, it’s your dime. I’m not hanging up.” And I sat there until, again, I could hear them hang up. This time, I left it off the hook though.

As I got ready to head to bed, I saw that the “message waiting” light was blinking on the phone base. So the person had clearly called back again when the phone was off the hook (I left it off for about 30 minutes…), and this time they left a message. I was prepared for silence and then a *click* from their hang-up, but they actually left a message…

“Hello, yes, this is Moodar* from Pakistan, and I need to tell you something. Please to call me back at, uh, at this number. I have something I must tell you. *Silence for about a second and a half* Call back at this number. Thank you. I have something I need to say. Call back at this number.” *click*

Ok, first of all, I can’t remember the exact name that he gave me, and I certainly don’t know how to spell it, so “Moodar” is a made up name, ok?

Second of all, I don’t have caller ID on my phone, so I have NO IDEA what “this number” is to call Moodar back at, and fuck if I’d call it anyway even if I DID know it!

Is this a new thing? Instead of sending those stupid e-mails about needing a bank account to transfer money to, are they actually contacting people first hand to talk to them about it? Also, wouldn’t it be a good idea for them to actually speak to the person that answers the phone if they “have something to say” instead of sitting there in silence before hanging up and calling back 3 more times to do the same thing before they actually just leave a fucking message? What a waste of time, no? And money…I can only imagine how much a call from Pakistan to Kansas must cost for them.

Is it a connection to this here blog thingy? I’ve been getting some strange hits from the Middle East, but I assumed it was from soldiers there, or something. (They’re all suddenly hitting me based on the post I had back in August that linked to a picture of a female body builder that I was making fun of. It’s weird…) But since the blog doesn’t have any kind of connection to my real name, which is the one that’s listed, I don’t think that can be it.

Very weird.

Alrighty, it’s lunch time already, and I don’t know where the time has gone today. I’ve barely had the time to pee, which is very disconcerting, so I’d best catch up on that now…

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Being vewy, vewy quiet...

I'm the only one in my corner of the office today, and it's nice and quiet. I like it this way.

As a follow up to my post last week about my trainer, he still hasn't been taken down by any authorities, and he's still slowly trying to work-me-out-to-death. I feel like my arm muscles are shredded wheat today, they're so sore. He made me do pull-ups yesterday, people. Pull-ups!! Both overhanded AND underhanded ones, and it wasn't pretty. Well, it was pretty damned embarrassing, I can say that for sure! Even on a machine that balances out most of my body weight with a pully-system, I STILL had a hard time lifting myself up. And I wanted to cry. Took me back to all those years of Presidential Physical Fitness tests we had to do in grade school, which I hated (and I bet I'm not alone on that), and during which I could never, not even ONCE, pull myself up in any kind of a pull-up. (And that one where you just hang there with your chin over the bar for as long as you can? Yeah, don't even get me started on those.)

Anyway, my arms don't feel nice. And he laughed and said I should get ready for hating him even more on Thursday, when he apparently plans on systematically attacking my legs to balance out the shredded wheatness in most of my major muscle groups.

Maybe he's been planning this all along, and he knows that I'm home alone for most of the night on Thursday, and he's gonna come to my house when I'm at my weakest level and kick my ass and rob me. Hm.

Not that he actually has to weaken me at all in order to kick my ass, but I would imagine that even with a severe adrenaline rush, in this shredded wheat state, I'd be even more useless if taunted to fight.

The funny thing is that no matter what I throw at my stomach muscles (I'm up to pressing a 10 pound weight straight up in the air - I press my hands to the ceiling as I press up into the crunch - as I do my crunches, and lifting the same 10 pound weight with my legs as I do extensions for my lower belly...), they barely get sore, if at all, and they adjust pretty quickly to the exercises to the point that we need to increase difficulty for them every week and a half or so. (Which, of course, evil trainer is more than happy to help with!) Although they are covered in omentum and other fatty-type deposits, if we were to remove all that and have a looksie at my stomach muscles, I'd be willing to bet I'm pretty ripped under there. My stomach muscles are awesome! (Do you hear that arms?? HUH?? Because you could learn a thing or two from the fucking stomach muscles, is all I'm saying. Weak little pieces of shit...)

However, he does complement my form quite often as I sit and die, or stand and die, or lunge and die. I think he thinks it makes me feel better about things. Which it does, to a certain extent. But not that much. Fucker.

I heard from The Gown Gallery last night, by the way. Sharon called me back from the message I left last week, and told me where they are currently operating from (the Marriott on the Plaza), what days they're there (Thurs., Fri., Sat.), and that they are just there temporarily until they can move into their permanent space, which is encouraging. They must be staying in business, is the thing. And she reassured me on the whole whether-they-have-records thing, because she mentioned that my dress is scheduled to ship on April 24th, and as always, they will call me when it arrives, and schedule me for my first fitting.

I cannot tell you what a relief this was to me. I also cannot tell you why it had stressed me out so much, but I think that between wondering if I needed to order my dress and veil through someone else and also wondering if their lovely little business was going to survive the tragedy of the fire and all, it was too much for my brain to take. I hope this is the only drama I encounter with regards to the wedding. *Knocking on wood!*

I'm gonna go back to quietly dying now. Happy hump day, all...

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Overheard at the Cube Farm

"I don't have my base tan yet, so I have to worry about burning..."

Yeah, um, jackass? Just a little FYI: You should worry about "base tanning" as well!

Has NO ONE ever heard of skin cancer in this town? Christ!

Monday, February 19, 2007

Reflections on the Eliptical

First of all, is that how you spell "eliptical"? I dunno.

This morning, I noticed that the machine I was on tallied a total of over 370 calories burned while I was working out on it. So that's my second that even possible? How does it even guestimate on something as subjective as calories burned? I do have to enter my weight, and I also grasp the hand-thingies that read my heart rate while I'm elipting away the time. But, what if I'm a 185 pound man that's made mostly of muscle? Wouldn't that mean I'd be burning a different amount of calories per hour? As it is, I'm a 191 pound woman (I lie to the machine every time I get on it!) that's half fat. So, yeah. Probably not burning what it thinks I'm burning. Plus, over 350 calories burned in 30 minutes? Puh-leaze...

My feet fall asleep whenever I use the eliptical. It almost became unbearable today, as I went for a half hour on it, and I usually only do 20 minutes. It took a good minute and a half of ankle rotating to get the pins-and-needles feeling to go away before I was able to climb onto a bike to finish my workout. Very weird. Why does that happen?

Sorry...these are the things on my brain right now. I'm needing to make a couple of phone calls to set up meetings for my boss, but I needed a break from the calendar really quick, so I thought I'd come hang out here for a while.

I like it here. Feels like home.

God, I hate how weekends have to end...

Ok, the dress thing is fine. I’m fine, really. (Except for a headache that I’ve had for two days now. Asshole headache.) I’m still wondering what’s going to happen, but I’m fine. My dress is still having beading and details sewed onto it in a different state somewhere. Yes, there’s a question of what will happen to the business that sold me the dress (or rather, which has sold me half of the dress, since I only put half down for the deposit, and will pay the other half when it arrives wherever it’s due to arrive now), but hopefully after this week, there will be less question of that particular issue. 75th Street Brewery questions when it will be able to open again, and how long their staff will be out of a job. It’s different for them…the structure is still there, and they only have to deal with the water and smoke damage they have to clean up. (Also the power and water and gas issues, of course, but that should go without saying…) The Gown Gallery has no option but to work from a different space altogether. The landlord might rebuild, or so I’ve heard, but how long will that take? Most likely past the point where I will need to try on my dress for the first time so we can get moving on alterations, if they’re needed. I also heard that the landlord has given those tenants that lost their businesses some different space to work from, apparently. But where is it? How can I find where the Gown Gallery has relocated to? Is it where they will operate from until they are able to rebuild the building? Will they find another space altogether to build on instead of taking space in the rebuilt building, once it’s completed? Will the business even still exist???

Maybe I’m not as “fine” as I claimed to be above. I still have questions. I want answers. Reading the info in the paper only comforts me so much. If anyone of you knows anything, please share, so as to help keep my head from exploding over this, kay?

On another topic all together, can I just say how much I hate it when someone tells me…well, wait. Let me tell you what happened first. My coworker came to visit this morning to tell me how to do something I thought she had to do for me, and she asked me, “How are you this morning?” I said, “Fine. Tired, but I’m fine, thanks.” And she replied, “Yes, you look tired.”

*blink blink*

It’s one of my pet peeves, and I know that we all do it every now and then, but we all need to figure out how to avoid it. It doesn’t make a person feel good to hear that they LOOK tired/haggard/ugly/etc…So don’t confirm it when someone tells you they feel tired! Say something like, “Well, you look great today,” or “You wouldn’t know it from lookin’ at you!” Just, be nice. It’s like asking a woman who’s a bit chubby if she’s prego. Or simply offering the phrase, “You look terrible! Are you sick or something?” Not cool. Bugs me.

It’s freezing in the office today, and I’m grateful for the big fuzzy sweater I brought in a few weeks ago to counter-balance the randomness that office ventilation systems can often be day to day. Usually, I wrap it around my legs. But today, I’m wearing it over my sweater. I didn’t layer properly for the management to decide that it’s suddenly summer out, since we’re due to reach 65 degrees in KC today. Windchill is at the mid-30’s, muthafuckers. Turn the heat on!

Britney Spears shaved her head. It’s a cry for help, according to most news analysts who are actually spending time discussing this on news programs today.

Um, didn’t anyone think that her marriage to such an awesome guy like K-Fed might have been a bigger cry for help? I do. So she shaved her head…big whoop. Hair grows back. Chick REPRODUCED with slimy K-Fed. THAT is something to worry about. (Even though none of it is anything to worry about, since if you don’t know her, you shouldn’t care, and why is this being discussed again? Because she used to be a fucking Mouseketeer, and everyone wants to know what happened to that sweet, pretty 12 year old girl? Yeah, she grew up. Duh. Let’s let her ruin her own life, kay? If she needs help, I’m sure her family will be there for her. If not, oh well. I’m thinking there are bigger things to worry about in this world, honestly…)

I need to go call Home Depot now and set up an appointment to order new windows for the front of my house. ‘Tis time to replace them, yo. Gonna have fun with this one, I think…

Friday, February 16, 2007

It's not a sign so much as a temporary roadblock...

The store I ordered my bridal gown and veil from is currently burning to the ground.

I don't know what else to say except Holy Fucking Shit.

Hey, at least my dress wasn't scheduled to arrive for another 2 months, but what about the records? What about my veil design? What about trying it on when it gets here? WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO NOW????

I feel really, really bad for the girls who had ordered their dress, and it was being stored there in the building for them (which is what was going to happen to mine when it came in before the store, you know, dissolved into a pile of wet rubble). The general manager of the restaurant where the fiance is a chef has a sister who's dress was in that store. She's getting married in June. So it's a good thing that she's not a big girl like me...because hopefully she'll be able to find another dress, off the rack somewhere, that will work for her. Damn.

I need some lunch.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Can someone get on this, please?

I need someone to report my trainer to the authorities. I'm afraid to do it, because I think he could seriously hurt me if he finds out what I'm up to, so it needs to be anonymous. Just tell them that he's slowly trying to kill me under the guise of "building my muscles" and "helping me lose body fat." It's been going on for about 5 weeks now, and I have another 5 to go. Believe me when I say that if we keep going like we have, I will be dead very soon. Please?? Ple-he-heease??

You guys are mean. Whatever.

My arms and legs hurt, dammit.

I've decided to throw the shower at Brio on the Plaza. Problem solved. Happy day.

That's all the energy I have for a post today. I'm going to go sleep in a toilet stall now...

Wednesday, February 14, 2007


An uncomfortable trend I've noticed at my new place o' work is a problem with men giving the "right of way" to women. For instance, when I'm walking down a long hallway or a pathway outside toward two men, for some reason, they don't move! Rather, I'M expected to give way by hugging the wall or side of the path, in one case actually having to walk on the grass in order to not get run into by a gentleman that wouldn't drop back behind his walking partner to allow me room to pass on my same path. Fuck chivalry, this is just plain RUDE in my opinion. How tough would it be for a guy to just give a girl some room on the path, eh? I just had it happen again on my way back to my desk from the restroom. Two men were walking towards me, and the one that should have given a bit more room for me to be able to pass them comfortably failed to do so, and I wound up having to hug a cube wall and almost stop walking in order to let them pass me. It's frustrating as hell.

What's been good though, and a bit weird I might add, is that ever since my post about Mr. Phlegm on the other side of the cube wall from my desk, I haven't heard one loogie being hocked. Coincidences like that kind of freak me out, but since it's been a much more pleasant atmosphere here at work since it's stopped, I'm not second-guessing it.

And it's Valentine's Day, of course...not a big, HUGE dealio in my book, but the fiance and I do celebrate it a little bit. I bought him some new work clothes and shoes as a present (and I have my new Vic's Secret bra and undie set to "share" with him, of course), and he bought me a pedicure at the salon I go to. I'll be making us a dinner of king crab legs, loaded baked potatoes, and green beans, and I'm gonna pick him up some of his favorite ice cream for desert, so he doesn't have to join me in the sugar-free Jello boat for yet another evening. This is the first time in my life that I've had a significant other in my life for 2 Valentine's Days in a row, and it's a bit troublesome. My fiance doesn't like candy, so that's not a good gift for him. He's not a golfer and he doesn't work in an office so everything for men in the Red Envelope catalog doesn't really apply. Also, the endearing fact that he calls it "VD" makes me think he doesn't take it too seriously anyway, which is how I like it. My birthday is a week before Valentine's every year, so I always impress upon everyone that I'm dating during this time that they don't have to get me a present for both events. But the fiance always seems compelled to. And it's not that I'm complaining, mind you. I just feel bad. But if he wants to do it, then who am I to stop him, eh?

Speaking of the fiance, I hate to say it, but I'm suddenly getting very excited about the wedding. I don't know if it's because of the fact that my MIL-to-be has kind of laid off on the e-mails lately, or if it's because my dress and veil will be ready for me to try on together in a little over 2 months, or what. I'm giddy all of a sudden. Last night, I started envisioning what it'll be like to have everyone (well, almost everyone) see me in my dress and veil for the first time, and I almost couldn't fall asleep! But then I did, and I had weird dreams, so I don't know what that means.

I'm still trying to figure out where the hell I can have a shower here in Kansas, which is getting a little frustrating. I can't think of a restaurant to do it at, and the hotel thing seems unreasonably expensive for the amount of people that I'll have attending it. I don't know...I really just started looking into it, but it's bothering me, and I need to solve the problem by the end of February in order to be on track with things. I wish everything could just go smoothly, is all.

I'd better go. I'm sure I need to work on something or another, so I'd better search out just what it is that needs doing. God, I love my job!

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Just so you know...

I got nothing for ya so far today. Work has been on again/off again, and for some reason, whenever I get up from my desk and glance outside, it's freaking me out to see the landscape as snowcovered. As if I didn't drive to work in it, or something. I don't get it. (I've also been getting extremely dizzy/vertigo-ish when walking down staircases lately. I think it's a depth perception thing, but it's the only place it happens, so I'm not sure about that...Do I have a tumor?)

I'm spending my time by looking up resort info on the British Virgin Islands, as that's where the fiance and I are interested in heading for our honeymoon, and trying to manage meetings for my boss. I'm also reviewing MSN for the latest scoop on all the shootings that appear to be breaking out across the US, and wondering if there's some sort of connection to it all. (Seasonal disorders? I dunno...) I've been left wondering just how the fuck something like this could happen over the course of several years, and why the hell someone would need to purchase 6 talking trees modelled after the Wizard of Oz characters? How did someone not notice that they were (a) working with a bat-shit crazy-ass freak, and (b) that she was embezzling such huge amounts of cash from the company she worked for. How did they not notice? HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN???

I need lunch.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Aggrivating me.

There's no doubting that I've kinda fallen for the sweetness (and sometimes the raciness!) of Regina Spektor. I like the sound, I like most of the songs from her latest album, and I dig her style. I don't like all of it, but most, fo sho.

What I don't get is the comments I hear about her being a "hottie" or having any kind of sex appeal whatsoever. No offense to the girl...I think she's normal, and that's what I dig about her. She has hot moments and she has not-so-hot moments. Just like a majority of us have. But I don't think she's so FUCKING HOT that she garners the label of being a "hottie." Just my opinion, mindja.

Blech. Just, SO not cute.

Also, her eerie similarities to Fiona strike anyone other than myself? I hear it in some of her music, and I most certainly see it in some of the photos I've found of her online. See Regina above, and Fiona below.

Eerie. (Also, I hope Fiona stays away from that crimped hair thing for a long, looong time. Not a good look. And are those her boobies? AUGH! Fiona boobies! I should crop that shit...I don't have the energy, though, sorry.)

Now, HERE is a perfectly respectable, CUTE photo of Regina. See? Good pictures and bad pictures. Everyone can have 'em.

I am currently wrapped up in a broohaha over on the stoooopid crime stoppers blog, or whatever the fuck it is, over on the Star's site. There was a story today about a 10 year old girl attacking (along with several of her gang friends, mind you) a 22 year old woman in a Target in Southy (southeast Boston) over the weekend, I think it was, and people started talking about how they would discipline their child if they got out of control, like this, and I had to speak up about how beating a child isn't a solution to anything, and now they're all ganging up on me with intelligent comments like about how I must be ugly, and that's why I say I don't want any kids, because obviously no one would want to reproduce with me, and how I don't have the right to an opinion on the subject because I don't have any children, etc, etc...It's a big ol' display of raw, unfettered ignorance, yo. I'd link it, but again...lazy. Plus, I don't want anyone to go out there and start defending me (Twin) randomly. I feel like I'm the bigger person in the argument, anyway, since, well, they're all so very smart and elloquent and all, what with their tendencies to beat their children, so I'm cool. It's just an armpit-sweaty kinda discussion, is all. Ignorant people who don't listen just chap my hide.

What the "fark"?

I don't like word substitutes for the word "fuck." Either have the balls to say it, or shorten it to "WTF?" or something. On a message board, I understand that sometimes, moderators will delete comments that have obsceneties in them, but I like the people who use creative spelling (i.e. fukk, shiit, etc...) in order to avoid being caught. They're the cool kids. Not the "farkers." You guys aren't cool at. all.

Also, I got tired of Blogger seeming to want to force me into a switch to the whole Google format, so I finally went ahead with it. If you notice differences on the blog or with posting comments here, then that's why. Not my fault...I fought it as long as I could, really.

Now on to the real post I had written for today...

Alarming trend I’ve noticed in the ladies’ room on the floor of my office building: “extra” toilet seat covers are being left on a little shelf above the sink area, and this confuses me for several reasons.

First of all, if you’ve grabbed one too many seat covers (or if a little bunch of them stuck together when you went to grab just the one), just throw the extra away! Consider your own hyper-cleanliness in the first place…would YOU want to use a seat cover that’s just lying on the sink like that? I didn’t think so.

Secondly, they’re being left in a spot that one doesn’t even look at until one is through with their business, and are washing their hands. So, yeah…that’s not working.

Thirdly, the cleaning crew is in there every day at about 10 a.m. You’d think they would have cleaned up the extra covers that are folded and waiting for some less-clean freak to come along and use them, since they’ve been sitting in the same spot for OVER 5 DAYS NOW. That’d be my clue to go ahead and throw them out, anyway. But nooooo. They’ve left them sitting there, apparently thinking that someone will be interested in saving the earth, eventually using the toilet seat covers that came out in a clump when someone intended to just grab the one.

So, honestly, I’m thinking that the people who do use toilet seat covers are grabbing the “sterile” ones that are in the dispenser on the wall, and kind of don’t have a desire to be all green about it and not let some extra ones go to waste, or what have you.

But I’m not throwing them away, dammit. Mostly because I’m interested in seeing just how long they’ll sit there before the cleaning crew DOES throw them out themselves, and also because I’m icked out by toilet seat covers. Even clean ones. I don’t know why. I find them troublesome and a waste of time, personally. My ass has survived 33 years without me using them, so what the fuck is their purpose?

Last night, an attack of insomnia decided to hit me and keep a firm grip on my body until about 2 a.m. It. Sucked. Friday night, I could barely keep my eyes open past 10. Saturday night, I managed to make it to 10:30 before climbing into bed to wait for the fiancé to get home so I could chat with him before completely crashing out. Last night, after a long day (I woke up unusually early for a day when I had no reason at all to be awake at such an hour) of laundry, errands, working both my ass and the dog’s ass out on the treadmill, making dinner (mmm…chili and roasted Yukon Gold potatoes), clipping and filing my toenails, catching up on some wedding planning crap, and sewing up a hole in the armpit of one of the fiancé’s sweaters, I finally was able to sit down to watch the disc 5 of season 2 of Gray’s Anatomy. I had intended to start it earlier in the day, but I literally didn’t sit down for 5 minutes straight until about 6:30. And even then, it was spotty. (I had to pack my gym bag, fold the laundry I’d done, put the left over chili and potatoes away, clean up after the dog when she’d thrown up a little bit, etc, etc…) I finished the 5th episode on the disc right at about 11 p.m., which is later than I usually like to be up the night before I have to get up and work out, but I wasn’t tired. Which worried me. I wasn’t even remotely tired in the least. The fiancé had to work a double and then had a meeting at 9 that he needed to attend, so he wasn’t going to be home until after 11:30, anyway. But I went in to lie down with the dog (who, of course, was able to pass out immediately), and I just laid there…awake…for the next hour and a half, at which point the fiancé came in. I told him I couldn’t sleep, and we chatted about his day, and talked about getting some food out tonight, and then I tried to go to sleep again. I finally got up at about 1:15 and went pee and then told him (he was on the couch, zoning in front of the t.v.) that I was going to try reading for a bit, and informed him that there was no way I’d be going to the gym in the morning. (Me + 3.5 hours of sleep + 45 minutes of cardio before the work day even begins = complete, utter mess of an employee.) I went back to bed and read for about 45 minutes, and then tried to sleep again. I was awake when the fiancé came in to bed, so it had to have been after 2:15, now that I think about it. I don’t know when I finally fell off to sleep, but I woke up off and on before my alarm went off at 6:10, so I know I must have slept at least a little bit.

I feel ok today, so far. But I’m afraid it’ll really catch up to me by tomorrow, when I have to get up at 4:30 to meet my trainer at the gym. Especially on a snowy morning, like it’s supposed to be? It’s going to suck. I’m secretly hoping we’ll get 5 or 6 inches instead of just 1 to 2! (In which case I would call my trainer and reschedule, dammit. Because my car doesn’t do more than 4 inches of snow, unfortunately.)

And that is all I can muster for this morning, after such a light amount of sleep. I hope everyone else got more than I did, and that your weekends were lovely and productive and fun.

I’m awful cheerful for only having gotten approximately 4 hours of sleep last night, too. I might need to see a doctor about this…

Friday, February 09, 2007


I just dropped an M&M down my cleavage.

Wouldn't be such a big deal if I wasn't wearing a very tight, body-shaping slip under my dress, and now the M&M is stuck between my body and the slip, and the M&M is cold.

Oh no...wait a minute. It's totally warmed up in the time it took for me to get to post this. And now I'm gonna have melted M&M on my body for the rest of the day. Awesome...

UPDATE: Ok, I got the M&M out before it melted, thank goodness. It was getting there, though. Very close call.

And to those of you thinking, "Uh-huh...maybe the body shaping slip wouldn't be necessary if there weren't M&M's going into that fat ass of hers..." let me just ask how many of you get up at 4:30 4 times a week to go to the gym and either do cardio for 45 minutes or do cardio for 30 minutes and then work out with a trainer for 30 on strength training exercises?

Yeah. Shut up.

Plus, the body shaper makes my boobs look smaller, and that's all I care about, really. That and it's supposed to help alleviate the chasmic cleavage thing, but oh well! Guess that ain't working!

Birthday Crap

Since the fiancé works on Thursdays, and this year my b-day fell on said day, we decided to head out on Tuesday for dinner instead. Of course, it was a lovely day for him, since it’s one of his days off…he slept in, let the plumber in around 9:30-ish to replace our garbage disposal (don’t. ask.), had a work thing late in the afternoon that he went to and wasted time at, and by the time I rolled in the door after a long day of waking up at 4:30 a.m., gymming it, working it, and then driving home in lovely surface-street traffic, he was in the shower cleaning up and getting pretty. Kinda had the birthday for me, I suppose you could say.

We had a “reservation” at Kona Grill at 6:30, and we made it with no problem, because I am the Queen of Plaza Parking. I had decided on Kona for my birthday dinner place because they have sushi and they also have yummy food. Small menu, but everything I’ve had there has always managed to hit the spot. (Besides, I’m a fan of the small menu technique…less things to make means that those few things get made well. It’s smart.) We wanted to start dinner with a sushi appetizer, and then have dinner and possibly even dessert.

Our waitress came by and took our drink order after asking have “we” been to Kona before? After initially thinking that I certainly hoped she had been there before (why do people say “we” when they mean “you”? It’s so pretentious and condescending-sounding), I told her that yes, we’d been here, and we were planning on starting off with some sushi. She said she’d give us a minute with the menu…I asked her if she had any fish she’d recommend and she told me the seabass was always good. Cool!

Except there wasn’t any seabass on the sushi menu. I couldn’t figure that one out, but we went ahead and picked tuna and yellowtail nigiri (a.k.a. fish on top of rice-type of sushi) and a cut roll that had tempura-battered shrimp, avocado, and spicy tuna all wrapped in a soy wrapper instead of seaweed (which was interesting and we liked it very much). We had a total of 6 pieces of sushi and 5 pieces of a cut roll on the order. When the waitress returned and said, “Oh, so you decided to have sushi for dinner?” I looked at her and said, “No, we’re going to order dinner off the menu still,” and thought to myself that this girl obviously shouldn’t be a waitress. If one doesn’t understand that most of us actually eat food more often than not, then one certainly shouldn’t be serving it. 6 pieces of sushi for 2 people as DINNER…retard.

When we opened our dinner menus to see what sounded good for the main course, and the fiancé immediately said he was considering the seabass, I realized what the waitress had meant when I asked her if there was any fish she would recommend tonight…she thought I meant off the dinner menu, even though we had just talked about how we were getting sushi for our app. Not a bright bulb, this one. I should have seen it as a warning right then, but as we all know, hind-sight is 20/20, eh?

It took the waitress a bit to get back to us to get our dinner order. I was ok with that, because sushi takes a while to make, especially at a place like Kona, and I was concerned that if we ordered dinner, this retarded waitress would put the order in right away and we’d wind up with our dinners being served to us before the sushi had even been cut. But I was also concerned that if she did have the presence of mind to hold onto our orders for a bit before putting them in, then she might be too stupid to remember she had to enter them about 10 minutes later. So it was a catch 22, really. After she took our order, I expressed to the fiancé how I felt sure we’d wind up with our dinners coming out before our appetizers. The fiancé got the seabass, and I ordered this yummy sounding meatloaf they had on the menu. “What can I get instead of the mashed potatoes, though? I’m non-dairy, so can I have steamed rice instead of them?” I asked the waitress. “Yes, or the Island Rice…we have that too,” she said. After she told me what that was – fried rice with pork and stuff in it - I told her I was fine with the steamed rice, and she went away.

So when the expo guy tried to give us our dinners about 10 minutes later, and we still hadn’t seen any sign of our sushi, I wasn’t too terribly shocked. He asked who had the seabass, and I replied that we hadn’t even had our appetizers yet. He looked confused, apologized, and said he’d keep our dinners warm for us, and he’d also check on our apps. About a minute and a half later, the waitress appeared with our sushi. She asked us if we needed anything else right then, and I told her what had happened with our food. “Oh, I’m sorry about that,” she said. I said, “Yeah, the guy who brought them out said that he’d make sure they’d ‘keep them warm’ for us…what did he mean?” She replied in a matter-of-fact manner, “They’ll just put them under these heat-lamp things.” “Yeah,” I replied, “That’s what I was worried about…” She walked away looking unphased by my concern, or the fact that all of this was going so badly. I think this girl would remain unphased if she heard that half of the US had been blown up by a nuclear bomb, as long as it didn’t involve her in any big way, though. Jeezy…

We ate our sushi, and I ordered another beer, and then we finished our sushi in a quicker amount of time than I would have preferred, but I didn’t want our food to get all gross and dried out under the lamps. So then they brought our dinners back out. The same expo guy from before placed my fiance’s seabass in front of him, and then set my fancy meatloaf in front of me. My meatloaf is described in the menu as being served with a wild mushroom ragu. But I didn’t see any mushrooms, and the sauce that was ALL OVER IT (plus in a little dish on the side, in case the stuff dumped on it wasn’t enough) looked like a cream sauce to me. So I asked the expo guy what it was. “It’s the shoyu sauce,” he said, looking concerned. I asked him what was in it. He, of course, didn’t know what was in it, but he offered to find out. I explained to him that it looked like a cream sauce, so if he could please take the plate back with him, and if there was cream in it, then I would need a new meatloaf, and if there wasn’t, then he could just bring it back to me. I thanked him for his help, even though it kind of pissed me off that he didn’t know the menu very well, and if he’s serving the food, he should know what the fuck is in it.

Then the waitress came over, and noticed that I didn’t have my dinner in front of me. (She’s a sharp one.) I explained about the meatloaf, and asked her what the sauce was on it. She said, “It’s our shoyu sauce.” And I asked her, “And what’s in that sauce?” “It’s like a soy sauce, and there’s heavy whipping cream-“ Which is when I stopped her to remind her that I had specifically had to choose a different side dish for my meal, stating clearly that the reason why I needed a different one was because I don’t eat dairy products. “Whipping cream is dairy. So maybe I can just get a new one without any sauce on it? By the way, the menu didn’t make any mention of that sauce being on it, and it’s not your fault, but I’m just so tired of running into this situation in restaurants, where they don’t put all the info in it about what’s on the dish, and it causes everyone a problem like this…” She apologized again, and went to check into what was going on. I was trying to not sound nasty. After sitting there for a second, I asked my fiancé if I was coming off as condescending, and he said a little bit, but it was more about me being upset about what was going on. And then I had to wait another 10 minutes for my new meatloaf to come out, so I didn’t care any more about if I sounded condescending. To her credit, the waitress did pass by at one point and asked if she could get me a salad or anything while I was waiting. I told her, “If you could just get me that beer that I ordered a while ago, I’ll be fine!” Again, NOT trying to be bitchy. But, yeah. Kinda earning the right at that point. (Plus, she was lucky I didn’t go off on her ass…I’d been up since 4:30, goddammit…not her fault, but I was VERY tired. Tired me = bitchy me. Ask the fiancé, because he can certainly attest for it!)

When my dinner came out, it was lovely, and tasted yummy as hell, and I was very happy. And then we ordered dessert, and that was good (and half of it is still waiting for me to finish it off in the fridge at home!), and we paid the bill and went home.

Mind you, we never received a visit from a manager regarding the problems we’d had. I could see one the whole time we were there, too, since I was facing the kitchen and they have a window that allows you to see into the kitchen from the dining area, so that wasn’t the issue. The guy was there. When I sent my meatloaf back a second time, I even saw him look out at me, and then he turned back to the kitchen and went back to what he was doing. So he was fully aware of at least THAT problem, if not the problem of the food coming out before the appetizer sushi. And for him not to come out, or to send another manager to help us if he was unable to do so himself? Inexcusable. Especially for a well-known, good restaurant like Kona.

So you know what I just did? Yeah, after typing all that up there, I just decided I needed to call them and talk to the GM. Apparently, she’s been out of town for a few days. She said that her not being there is no excuse for what happened to have happened, but I know better. When the cat’s away, the mice will play. The mice were playing ALL OVER UP IN THERE! She was really nice about it, and to be honest, all I wanted was for her to hear about the problem we had with the ditzy, hopefully new waitress, and then to figure out why the kitchen put the wrong sauce on my meatloaf, but she wants to send me something to give us reason to return in the future. I told her we didn’t need any reason – this isn’t a deterrent for us when it comes to future dining consideration. But she insisted, and she also apologized again for the problem with no manager coming to see us when we were there.

The moral to the story is this: even with crappy service, the birthday dinner was still a success, because the food was awesome (as always), and sushi followed by chocolate brownie concoction from heaven is always a good thing.

Moral #2? If you have a problem at a restaurant, or any other type of business for that matter, then speak the fuck up. I should have asked for a manager that night, but I already felt like they could give a flying shit about the problems we had, so I didn’t feel it would be worth the time. Calling today and talking to a manager when the restaurant wasn’t full of patrons, and when she actually had a second to listen to what happened, she’s able to absorb the info, hopefully find out what went wrong, and maybe it will help things go better for people in the future. I’m not super-picky. I understand that shit happens, you know? But a waitress ignoring a dietary issue of their customer? That’s bad. (And her tip reflected our opinion of it, to be frank.)

Ok, I need to get going. Office stuff is happening, and I need to focus on it instead of this, so buh-bye!

Thursday, February 08, 2007

I MUST be getting old...

Holy crap! I totally forgot that today was my birthday until just a second ago. I mean, I remembered it last night...I was all excited about the package I received from Victoria's Secret that I had had shipped to me in an expedited fashion so it would arrive on or before my birthday, and I opened it up and said to my fiance, "Oh! Look what I got for me! A BRA! Just what I wanted! I wonder how I knew..." And then he witnessed my mini-meltdown as I pulled out a plastic-encased white collared wrap shirt that I didn't remember ordering, and which was actually labelled "low tank tunic - black XL" like it was supposed to be, but I could most certainly see through the plastic bag it was in that it was, in fact, an XS wrap top that was white, not black. And not a tank top, either. It was the first time they've ever fucked up an order they've sent to me, and it somewhat deflated my happy-birthday-to-me celebration I was throwing. But then I found the pink undies and bra I bought for Valentine's day, and it cheered me right back up again! I can't wait to try stuff on tonight...

But this morning, I've been walking around, doing my workout and shower at the gym thang (sans brown spottiness, thankyouverymuch!), coming to work, doing a training class in ethics (because apparently people haven't been able to figure out on their own what "insider trading" is, and they need to take a class to figure it out...), and then I thought to myself, "What day is it again?" because I'm just that tired, and THAT'S when I remembered! IT'S MAH BIRTHDAY!!! That's what day it is, dammit!

Hell, I might go ahead and buy myself a nice lunch today instead of eating the frozen Kashi meal I brought with me, because I deserve it. I might even go to the Moose for a birthday drink after work, but we'll have to see about that. I've been trying to avoid the place on semi-busy days, because I'm just not in the mood for crowds, but this is kinda worth it, right?

Happy Birthday to me! (And the Twin, of course...I mean, duh. :)

Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Mortification X 13,000

What I am about to share with you all doesn’t embarrass me in the least. It grossed me out and mortified me at first, but then I thought about it, it sunk in, and I realized it was a very human thing that needed to be shared with everyone that I know. And, whether it be indirectly or directly, that means you guys. (Because hell if I’m gonna tell stories like this in the office when we gather ‘round the candy bowl at my coworker’s desk!) If those of you who actually do know me aren’t interested in hearing the intimate details of, well, me and my ass, then you’d best stop reading here. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, if you DO decide to read on…

This morning, I showered up at the gym for the 3rd day in a row. I prefer to split up my trips to the gym and only have 2 consecutive days of showering there if I can, but this week is proving to be a difficult one in that respect. Why do I dislike showering at the gym so much and so consecutively? Well, besides the fear of running out of hot water, I hate having to shower in a rectangular space that doesn’t allow me to get out of the stream of water as the shower runs, I hate that I can’t shave there, and I hate that I don’t have a washcloth or body “pouf” to scrub myself down with. I don’t take washcloths or body “poufs” because they need more drying time and room than I can give them at the gym or thereafter. If a body “pouf” isn’t given time to dry off after being used, it can get a lovely bacterial buildup on it that kind of defeats the purpose of using soap when washing with it. And a washcloth is more doable (since they’re washable, lending them a more “disposable” quality than the pouf), and after today will be my tool of choice for cleaning up with at the gym in the shower, due to what occurred.

I showered, I dried off, I went to my locker to put on my undies and my bra, and then I wrapped back up in my towel to head to the sink/mirror area to dry my semi-wet hair (it wasn’t a washing-hair day, thank goodness) and put on my makeup. I did my thing there, and then I went back to my locker to get dressed the rest of the way. When I finally took off my towel and folded it up to put it away, I noticed a spot on it. A brown spot. A little brown spot, but a brown spot all the same. I didn’t even have to check it with any other sense besides sight…I knew what it was. I quickly folded the towel so the spot would be on the inside instead of the outside (where it could possibly contaminate other items inside my gym bag like my hairbrush or my flip flops), and put it away, trying not to think about what had just happened.

And what had just happened, those of you who don’t have the sense to figure out on your own (or perhaps you’re just sitting there in disbelief that I’m even bringing this up in a casual blog post as I am…) might be asking? Well, yes…I had apparently missed cleaning a small clump of poo from my ass the last time I poo’d last night, and it had been hanging out in my asscrack until my shower this morning. It was, indeed, a very small one, but it was there all the same. And I guess my somewhat quick sweep of soap with the hand through the crack in the shower hadn’t taken care of ridding it from my body. BUT! My drying off with the towel did. So I had dislodged it with the towel, and not noticing it was there, I had then wrapped the towel around my body to continue on with my morning routine as described above. It was on the outside of the towel (because I always wrap the towel tag-side in around my body, so that’s how I know…the spot was on the outside – or the tagless side – of the towel), and everyone else that was in the sink/mirror area getting ready could see it the entire time I was in there doing my hair and makeup, everyone that saw me walking from the shower to my locker could see it, and everyone that saw me getting dressed at my locker could see it. Now, if they’re anything like me, then they weren’t looking at me long enough to notice it. But what makes me blush is that if someone caught it out of the corner of their eye, and it made them look twice to be sure of what it was they were seeing, they probably figured out what it was. And THAT is what mortified me when I thought about it.

And this is why I don’t like showering for so many days consecutively at the gym, either. I miss MY shower…the one that has the big bottles of yummy smelling soap, and my body pouf, and the privacy of my home wrapped all around it, so when mortifying things like dislodging dingleberries happens, I’M the only one that knows about it. And yes, I know what you’re thinking…”What if no one else in the locker room noticed, and if you hadn’t mentioned it to us then no one would have known about it besides you anyway?” My response to those who ask such a question is this: Read the archives…I have no shame. If it weren’t for people sharing stories like this on their own blogs, I probably wouldn’t be a blogger myself. I happen to know, from personal experience, that reading about the crappy, embarrassing things that happen to other people makes me feel better about the crappy, embarrassing things that happen to me.

If I’d had this kind of stuff to read when I was in junior high, I might’ve been a much less self-conscious person, I can tell you that!

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Not a good sign...

I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I swear I almost fell asleep while driving in to work this morning. And already in that first sentence alone, I had about 6 typos I needed to correct. (And 3 in that last one...)

I'm doing a training course right now that I've been needing to take for a week, but didn't have access to the system to do it. And it's not helping the sleepiness issue. I almost feel like crawling into one of the empty cubes on the other side of the office, and just crashing out for a few minutes!

I have a meeting at 1 today! From 1 to 3, in fact! What am I gonna doooo??? Hopefully by then I'll be feeling a bit more awake. Because, c'MON! This is ridiculous!

I feel fine, though. Just super-duper tired. I went to bed last night at 10:30, slept pretty well all the way through the night, and while I did get up at 4:30 to get to the gym on time for my appointment with my trainer (which he called in sick for, of course...), this isn't unusual compared to the other times I do it. I've been getting up uber-early for a few weeks now. It's never made me feel like this, dammit.

I'd better get up and walk around the floor, or something. I'm cold, but I don't see any other solution to this issue at the moment. This sucks...

Monday, February 05, 2007

Obligatory...but FUN all the same!

Watching a different news program this morning than my usual while at the gym, I learned that the average American’s favorite commercials from the Superbowl last night might not match up with my personal favorites (i.e. ALL the Bud Light ads, and that one Careerbuilder ad with the office fight…any commercial that has a man screaming like a girl in it has me hooked), and to be honest, I’m not sure where they got their stats from. Looking on Yahoo this morning, it seems the most votes are going for Bud Light ads (particularly the rock, paper, scissors one which I admit I don’t remember seeing, so I’ll be watching that here in a little bit), and not the ones that the local NBC affiliate are claiming to be America’s favorites. The ones they named?

- That Blockbuster ad with the mouse and the gerbil and the bunny.

- The Snickers ad with the uncomfortably odd kiss between two guys in it.

- The K-Fed ad. (Seriously?)

Ok, those of you who had any one of those commercials I mentioned right above here listed in your top three favorites from yesterday’s game, I think I have the perfect spectator sport in mind that you should be watching instead of football. It’s called “NASCAR,” and it might be better for you to watch that instead, because it’s based on these cars? That drive around and around in a big circle for a few hours? Yeah…might be a bit more simple and easier for you to “get” I think. Football probably hasn’t made much sense to you at any time in the past, and it’s because it’s a bit more of a difficult sport to grasp. All the rules, and the plays, and the way the defense and offense keeps switching around like they do throughout the game…that’s hard to follow, I know. I’m happy to have helped in any way that I can.

That Blockbuster ad SUCKED. It sucked little bunny ass, and that’s all I have to say about it.

The K-Fed ad had too much hype to begin with, and it wasn’t funny. So that sucked, too.

And the Snickers ad was just…weird. Didn’t make any sense. So it sucked homophobic ass. (And yes, the pun is totally intended.)

And the FedEx ads were stupid, too. And the Doritos ad with the chick at the checkout counter started out pretty funny, but then just ended gross. Gross, gross, GROSS.

Also, I might need to make it clear that while I loved the Bud LIGHT ads, the regular old Budweiser ads were crap. I don’t understand their desire to be heartwarming. They make BEER. Not hot cocoa. Stupid commercials don’t sell beer, dammit. And the Schick commercial? For the Quatro? Hasn’t that been out for over a year already? And don’t they realize that the guy they use in it is actually really weird looking and not cute at all?

Had fun watching the game, and I think that the rain made it that much more interesting, what with all the fumbles and balls slipping about, and all that good stuff. I feel bad that the Bears lost, but perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Rex Grossman sucked more than the Blockbuster ad did. It wasn’t his night, man. Not at all. Maybe next year will be a better one for him. We’ll have to see.

Anyway, go find some of the ads online to watch them, if you didn’t see them during the game last night. Again, my recommendations are any one of the Bud Light ads (in particular the “Auctioneer Wedding” ad) and that one Careerbuilder ad that they call “Office Fight” (the other one, with the people jumping off a cliff at the end wasn’t a favorite for me. Just seemed a bit of a downer, IMO), and that’s it. I didn’t like many others. I’m a picky bitch, though…

Oh, oh!! I just was reminded of another one that cracked me up. The Emerald Nuts “Robert Goulet” ad. That shit was funny!

Ok, I’m done now…

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Fun Pickchas For YOU!

So, as promised, here are some pictures of the new living room stuff. Note the lovely shade of paint on the wall behind the lamp...and how it isn't pink!

I LOVE this lamp, by the way. It's supah-sexay, and it's probably one of the fave purchases I've made for this room in a lo-hoooong time.

That's the new side table from Target (Dolce collection) holding the lamp up. It's very shiny right now. I'm sure it'll catch up to it's predecesors (i.e. the coffee table, the kitchen table, and the office desk...) in the lack-luster department soon enough, though.

This is a shot of the new couch, sort of. See, I woke up this morning feeling very unmotivated to clean up much, so you're getting a side shot of it so that I don't get too much of the coffee table into the view. As it is, you get to see it with the puppy's favorite blanky crumpled up on it, and the shot of the fiance's black Converse high tops resting near his "side" of the couch. For some reason, he likes to keep the ottoman shoved over on the side of the couch, where it is most unuseful, and kinda sad looking. We haven't discussed what that's about so much yet.

And the last two photos have the following explanation attached to them: One night, not too long ago, Izzy decided to lie around on her daddy instead of on me, like she usually chooses to. (I don't know if she prefers my lap because I'm squishier, or what the hell her deal is, but she likes to torment me with her preference all the same...) Daddy had his new blanky over his legs, keeping warm in our somewhat frigid house during one of these cold, cold winter nights we've been having. Eventually, she had worked her way down to being slung between his legs on the blanky as though she was in a hammock under a palm tree, listening to the lapping waves of a tropical ocean against a white sand beach not too far off from where she lounged. She got herself flipped upside down into this position I've photographed here, and she stayed that way, asleep, for a good 20 minutes or so.

Until I took that picture above, at which point she woke up, and looked at me like, "Bitch? I was sleepin' over here!" But then she kinda just relaxed back again, and looked as though she was thinking about whether she should move from her current position or not.

She stayed that way for another couple of minutes before finally getting up and moving someplace else. But it was a very funny moment for us, so I'm glad I was able to document it to share with everyone else. And yes, that's her lovely, cute-ass overbite being showcased in both photos. That makes us giggle regularly as well. We're not totally evil to her, though. We do feed her and clean her and stuff.

So there you go. Little bits of our home for your enjoyment. I'm gonna go back to watching my Gilmore Girls DVD now, thanks. I'm gearing up in a special way for the Super watching girlie shows and eating snacks and doing laundry. It's very fun. You should try it. Right now, in fact...

Friday, February 02, 2007

Quick FYI...

For anyone out there that thinks it's acceptable in any way, shape or form to hock a loogie while sitting at your desk, which happens to be an open cube surrounded by other open cubes, then you are mistaken. Very, very mistaken. It's NOT ok. It's gross.

Plus, you're sitting at your desk, at which there doesn't happen to be a sink or a toilet or anything else of the kind. You're therefore swallowing that which you hock up, so c'mon. Gross, gross, GROSS!!! (Since I don't hear any spitting of said loogies at all, I'm assuming that the trashcan isn't a receptacle of choice for the hocked loogies, either.)

This happens every day at the cubicle next to mine. And I'm already tired of it. So, soooo gross.


I think my mother-in-law-to-be thinks I'm retarded. Or possibly she's just searching for things to e-mail me about at this point. You know, I'm not just wedding-centric! I DO have other interests outside of wedding planning at this point! Cha!

She's sweet, really, but suggesting in her e-mail today that I "might want to set up a registry someplace, so that people have a specific idea of what [we] need, and it also makes it easier to returns items if [we] get multiple things [we] only want one of, etc..." was a little much for me.

How I wish I could reply:

*GASP!* "Really??? Really, this whole magical sounding "registry" thing exists someplace, and we don't have to just hope for the best when it comes to people giving us presents for our wedding? Why hasn't anyone ever told me this before? I COULD HAVE REGISTERED YEARS AGO, DAMMIT!!! Do you know how much stuff I've needed? CHRIST!"

But I have a feeling that wouldn't be a nice way of saying things. So I just backed out of the e-mail, and came here to vent for now. I'll write her back later with a very diplomatic response, I swear.

Thing is, I hate to break it to her, but we're not planning on registering for another couple of months. She seems to think that people need 4 or 5 months to peruse and consider different presents for us. The tells me that I don't have to register until 6 months before the wedding. Considering the fact that I will be having my first shower in June, I will of course be registering a little bit before that, but still...not necessary until April. I have other things to occupy my time and energy right now, so I'm gonna keep working on my time instead of anyone elses, I think.

And honestly? We really just want cash. So fuck the gift thing. No need to haul huge (or small) boxes to and fro, or wrapping anything in paper...such a waste! Just a check is all we need.

Ok, ok...we want dishes, too. And maybe some really nice sheets. And there are a couple of other kitchen items that I've never been able to get myself to splurge on, so we might want those things, too.

Anyway, I'm kind of tired of it. Tired of ONLY talking about the wedding. Tired of unsolicited suggestions. Tired of me asking about guests I should invite to each shower on her side of the family, and not receiving a response. Freaked out by the idea that she, for some reason, wants to come to BOTH of my showers, instead of the one that I'm throwing here in the midwest specifically for the midwest dwellers (i.e. HER)! It's excessive and not necessary for her to attend the shower I'm having in Cali as well. PLUS, we don't even know when we're having it yet (right Twin? 'Cuz you haven't said anything to me, at this point...), so to look for tickets out there not knowing the date of the shower would be kind of a waste of time. Especially considering that we're not having it until July. So, yeah. 5 months away.

There's a level of cuteness to her excitement. But I think the problem is that her excitement almost eclipses mine at times, and that's what rubs me wrong. While I'm excited to be married to my darling fiance, and am also looking forward to the party(ies) we'll be throwing in celebration of the union, it's the union that I'm most excited about. The parties are all just extra fluff, really. (Really nice extra fluff. Fluff WITH ALCOHOL, no less! God bless alcohol-doused fluff.)

I'm beginning to understand why some brides get to the point where they'd rather elope instead of having a big wedding because of their in-law-to-be butting-in action! It's just taking a bit of the fun out of it for me, I guess. And that isn't right.

But it also isn't right to let everyone feel the way they want to about the whole dealio. So I do what's best...I let e-mails that rub me wrong just sit for a bit, and return to them after lunch, when I'm tired and feeling less energetic and irritable. And then I respond to them as best I can. In this case, I'll probably let her know that we're planning on registering in April, and that'll be that. No explaining, no sarcasm about the fact that I kinda already knew about the existence of registering, no nastiness at all. And as for the info about her looking into tickets for a shower in July that doesn't even really exist yet? Well, I'll just remind her that ticket prices can fluctuate a lot in the course of 5 months, so she might just want to keep an eye on it for a couple more months, and by then, we'll not just know the date of the shower, but she should also have a better idea if it's even possible for her to attend. I mean, she's more than welcome to attend, really. It's just weird, I think. Because I have to have a shower here in town, too, for all my friends and soon-to-be-relatives that live in the midwest, and I thought it would help a bit with the costs she and my future father-in-law will already have to absorb over the next few months with the rehearsal dinner they're throwing, and the costs of staying in town for a few days, and all that. But oh well. It's her thing. She must just be REALLY excited about being my mom! (I wish my mom was still around to warn her about how crappy that job can actually be, but what can we do? Maybe the Twin can help fill her in on some of the Horror of Faith. I bet my older sisters might have a few helpful tidbits to share as well. Dad, too. We'll have to see...)

I actually have work on my plate today, so I'd better run. Happy Friday. Happy Super Bowl. Yay for the weekend! Yaaaaaaayyyyyy!!!!!!!

Thursday, February 01, 2007

The Gym, The Gym, The Gyyyyymmmm...

As I attempted to wake myself up today at 4:30, and then again at 4:40, and finally managed to push myself out of bed at about 4:44, I started bargaining with myself on the sleep I’ll be able to catch up on over the next few days. I don’t have to go to the gym tomorrow, I thought. I can always go on Saturday instead! But then I remembered that I’m getting my hair done at noon on Saturday, and that won’t leave me enough time for a workout on top of the regular lounging-type activities I like to do on Saturday mornings, so that’s out. I can definitely go on Sunday…

But as I got into my car after getting ready and heading out the door earlier than I have in a long time (5:10 a.m. achieved, thankyouverymuch!), I put a stop to the bargaining going on in my brain by reminding myself that I still had to get through this morning first. So I told myself to stop it, and all seemed a bit better after that.

My trainer was evil, of course, which I blame entirely on myself for having mentioned the fact that I wasn’t a bit sore after our leg workout a couple of weeks ago. Ever since then, he’s found ways to make sure that won’t happen again any time soon! Today was a day for The Horrible Lunge, as I have christened it. He tried to make me feel good by complementing my lunge form as I tried not to fall down from the pain. I told him through my gritted teeth and around my gasps for air that I don’t understand how people DON’T have good form when doing lunges…it’s not hard to get that whole keep-your-knee-over-your-ankle rule down pat. He showed me that increasing the width of my stance as I lowered myself would work my inner-thigh area into the mix. I’m goddammed grateful that he’s looking out for me like that. Jerk…

My aim is to finish my workouts each morning no later than 6:40, so I can get my ass into the locker room in time to get hot water for my whole shower. This also leaves me a lot of time to get ready and do makeup and hair and all that good stuff, but it’s worth it when I start hearing the women in the showers at about 6:55 or 7 screaming about the cold water they’re dealing with. I have often thought of speaking up and telling them that it tends to stay warm throughout an entire shower as long as you get in there before 6:45, but then I think about how crowded it might get in there when I want to get in, and I keep my mouth shut. I like my hot showers in the morning on cold days like these. I’d like it to stay that way, I think.

So this morning, that Miss USA retard is on the Today show (which was playing on the t.v. in the locker room as I got ready today), or whatever, and I’m so sick of this girl, I could just ignore every story about her whenever I come across them. So I do. But there’s this weird woman that was in the sink area this morning who felt it was time to poll everyone on their level of interest in the whole shebang by saying, “Ok, I’m older than all of you [there were 3 of us in there besides her at the time], so I just want to know, who the hell CARES about this underage drinking thing with this girl? I mean, come on!” The other girls that were there kind of just looked at each other and didn’t seem to have much to say on the subject. I, again, could give a flying shit because it’s a fucking beauty queen we’re talking about here, but I respond anyway, saying, “She did cocaine, too. She’s meant to be a role model for young women all over, and I don’t think that’s the kind of role model we should set as a standard in front of kids, personally.” This stopped the woman for a brief (very brief) moment, but then she responded, “Well, I have grown kids, and I didn’t mind them drinking when they were underage, and I know they smoked pot, because come on…everyone does, right? [Um, no…] And they all graduated high school and college and are doing well, so I don’t see what the big deal is.” I didn’t respond. Neither did the other girls in the sink area. The woman continued on about how she was that age in the 70’s, so that’s what she thinks about it (???), and she’s a liberal who thinks that everyone is just so damned right-wing conservative any more lately, and it’s getting worse and worse. And who cares about all of this anyway? [Apparently SHE did, but I guess she missed the irony in that comment every time she said it during her 2-minute diatribe.]

Bitch was crazy, yo. She got all red in the face while she was talking, and was kind of waving her makeup products through the air as she shared her opinion with us…I see her there every morning that I’m there, and thankfully she’s usually just finishing up with her routine as I’m just starting mine, but still. She was weird. Don’t like her. She needs to not talk to me again while I’m there, please.

Because after she left, the girls that were behind me putting on their makeup started talking about how they’re engaged (they know each other through work or something…I also see them every time I’m there in the morning) and when they’re getting married, and where they’re having their reception, and I chimed in about where we’re having our reception, and asked the one girl if she’d seen it yet, and yes she had but it was too small, which is too bad I said, because it’s really an amazing space…

And it was all so civilized, and no one was red in the face, and we were all quiet and peaceful and happy. That is what I like to experience after my workouts in the morning, dammit. I’m tired, in a happy way, I’m looking forward to eating breakfast and having some Diet Coke, and I DON’T want to have to deal with crazy-screaming-harpy-liberal woman any more!

I wonder if I can figure out a way to trip her while she’s working out the next time I see her. That might be fun.

Alrighty, I’m off to call the Twin. Need to discuss some wedding shit. Again. Bah!