Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Part I

Alright, so far, I am seeing choice #4 pop up in the votes the most, so today I will discuss the roommate issue a little bit more. In case you are scratching your head right now, E moved out the weekend of theory. (You'll see what I mean in Part II)

Now, I know I have familiarized you with E and her antics before. But I haven't really given you the whole story. So here we go.

I met E several years ago, through my friend W. At the time, they were roommates-- E rented from W. Every so often, we would all get together, so I knew E well enough to like her, but let me tell you, you never REALLY know someone until you live with them.

When W's boyfriend moved into her condo, which is pretty small, E began to feel like three was a crowd. And really, with a boyfriend around, I think most single girls would feel they were a third wheel. So I understood her feelings of discomfort and interest in moving out. Coincidentally, at the time, my old roommate K (who is a WHOLE other story which I won't get into right now) had moved out, and my extra bedroom was empty. So I invited E to move in with me.

That's when I got what I should have seen as Red Flag #1: "Oh, I would love to, but I'm really broke and I wouldn't be able to pay you a whole lot of rent, so I would feel bad doing that to you," E explained. I told her that since we were friends, I would cut her a deal, no problem. At that point, I needed the rent money. ANY rent money.

"Ok, well, how about you pay me $350 per month?" I offered. Where I live, this is a really good rent price, especially for living in a house, rather than an apartment.

"That's more than I'm paying now. I really can't afford to pay more than $230 per month," she replied.

Since I was really just wanted ANY extra money, I said ok. "You are a sucker," CN told me. I told him that we are friends, and I would feel bad if I charged her a price that broke her bank.

"$230 doesn't break anyone's bank, unless they are on welfare," he replied.

A little voice in the back of my head told me he was right, but I decided to ignore it. While E doesn't have a college degree (she dropped out), she does make a decent living working for a health benefits company. I don't know how much exactly, but she probably makes around $30,000-35,000. Looking back on it now, I do kind of feel like a sucker. When I made that amount of money, I was paying $500/month in rent.

Not long after E moved in, I began to learn more about her financial situation. With around $20,000 in credit card debt and an upside-down car loan, she was on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. Suddenly, her low rent request made a lot more sense to me. I told her to let me know if things got even worse and if she needed extra time to pay rent, or some other kind of help. She was my friend, after all.

Then, I started noticing the shopping. And I'm not talking about hitting big annual sales or Target or even Walmart shopping. E would buy brand new Coach purses. And not the little ones -- the BIG ones. She would justify the purchases by using $25 coupons she received in the mail for being a loyal Coach customer. "It's such a good deal! How can I not do it?" she would exclaim, showing off her new purchase. Then there were the matching shoes that had to be purchased to go with the purse. And if there was a party or an event coming up? She had to buy a new outfit. Often from places like Banana Republic or J.Crew. If nothing else, E is a well-heeled girl. I have to give her some props -- she's a fantastic dresser. But really, at what cost?

This was from the girl who swears she cannot afford to pay me more than $230/month in rent.

Then, there was her car. It was only about 2 years old, and it was a big, gas-guzzling SUV. It was newer and more expensive than my car. I am not saying that I am envious of her, because as you will soon see, that is the last thing I feel towards E. I'm just stating this as evidence of how outside of her means this girl lives. I make more money than E does, and my used car cost only $8,000. Hers was around $25,000. She eventually managed to trade it in and get a new car loan at a slightly lower interest rate. I thought this was a great idea, until she brought home her new car. It was a brand new, $25,000 car. "My payments are a little lower now. And it's much better on gas," she explained.

Is this girl for real???

Now, is it just me, or does it seem pretty stupid for someone in her financial situation to live this kind of lifestyle? I mean, it's a no-brainer, really. But wait -- it gets better.

One day, we were talking about her precarious financial situation. I managed to, in a round-about-way, aske her how in the holy fuck she got into this mess to begin with. Her explanation? Her ex-boyfriend from several years back, who we are pretty sure is a drug dealer (oh yes, she picks some real winners), showered her with luxurious gifts for so long (these were guilt presents, because he was cheating on her left and right) that she got used to them, and just can't seem to go back to anything less.

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me.

I asked her what kinds of things he had bought her before he ripped out her heart and stomped on it. (Side note: It was a pretty shitty breakup -- he basically kicked her out of his apartment to make room for the new girlfriend, who he'd been cheating on her with. Yeah, he was a really great guy.) He had purchased for her: several Coach bags, shoes, perfume, a Rolex and (drumroll please) a Louis Vuitton purse. As in, a real one, NOT a knock-off from Canal Street or someone's car trunk.

Call me crazy, but if I was broke as shit, drowning in debt, and I had a bunch of junk that some asshole had bought for me with drug money to ease his guilt over cheating on me, I would sell that crap on eBay so fast it would make your head spin. But does she do that? No. She'd rather wear her Rolex every day, a constant reminder of not only a miserably failed relationship, but also her poor decision making skills. What the hell is this girl on, anyway?

Well, for starters, alcohol. Now, we all know that I don't drink anymore, so I am a little out of the loop, but I'm pretty sure it's not really very acceptable to drink beer on your lunch break. But this didn't stop E. I would come home at lunch to find one empty beer can in the trash, and a fresh one in her hand. Sometimes, she would get drunk on margaritas at lunch and go back to work. Yeah. I'm sure you're not surprised to hear this, but she also would drink heavily at night and on the weekends. In addition to knocking out a case of beer every week at home (an amount I already think is kind of a lot), she would go out at least 2 times during the week and every Friday and Saturday--drinking for about 5 hours straight. Now, E is a fun girl, I will give her that. But I also think a lot of fun people are alcoholics, and she's one of them. Not only was her safety impacted by her drinking (she would drive drunk if no one would was around to take her home and she came thisclose to getting busted for an open container once), but so was her budget and her job. She called in sick several times due to a hangover. I know a lot of people do this, but she would do it about once or twice a month. That's a lot.

In addition to the alcohol, E was also on a cocktail of pills. She's a Heath Ledger waiting to happen: anti-depressants, Xanax, Ambien and Adderoll were all put into her body every day. This is in addition to all the alcohol, any over the counter painkillers she would take, and if she was sick, antibiotics. She admitted to doctor shopping, especially when one of them would not refill her prescriptions.

As you can imagine, anytime her behavior became strange or erratic, I just assumed it was from all the chemicals she had swimming around in her body. Or an eccentric personality. After a while, I grew accustomed to her insomnia, her weekend sleep-a-thons, her drunken antics, her Ambien-induced sleepwalking, and her passing out in the bathtub. What, I never told that story? I can't believe I never told that one. I was probably trying to protect her by not spilling her personal life on this blog. But at this point, I doubt I will lose any sleep over it. If anything, I'm hoping this will serve as a warning to anyone using or thinking about using Ambien. The drug is evil, I tell you.

A few times, E would come home drunk, take her Ambien and watch TV in her bed. I have learned that drunk people need everything to be louder than sober people do, so several times I would wake up to the sound of her TV or music coming from her room. Knocking on her door, yelling her name and even shaking her did not wake her up. A couple of times, she was so PTFO that I thought about calling 911. She was seriously dead to the world. If there had been a fire, she would have burned alive. No joke. So I would eventually just give up, turn the TV or music off myself, and go back to bed.

This wasn't a huge deal, but it started to scare me as time went on. More than once, I would wake up in the morning to find that the oven had been on all night. E had gone out, gotten drunk, come home to make a frozen pizza, and then PTFO on her Ambien before turning the oven off. I was really starting to get worried, but always hoped it would be the last time.

The last straw came with The Bathtub Incident. One night, I was awakened by the sound of music coming from her bathroom. At this point, it was normal for her to be up all night, re-organizing her room as she often did when she had bouts of insomnia. I was annoyed, but I knew she hadn't woken me up on purpose, so I walked over to ask her to turn her music down. I knocked on the door. No answer. I yelled her name. No answer. Thinking she had passed out in her bed, I went into her room -- she was not there. She had to be in the bathroom. I peeked around the corner to look into her bathroom. She was passed out in the bathtub, with water up to her chest. I was panicked, and sort of froze for a minute, because what do you do? All I could think was, "What the fuck? I am so pissed at her for putting me in this situation. This is so fucking awkward and scary. At worst, she could drown. At best, I have to go in there and drag my wet, naked roommate out of the tub, which is very awkward!!"

So I went in and shook the crap out of her until she woke up long enough to mumble that she was fine. Then she passed right back out. I seriously didn't know what to do. She was too heavy and slippery for me to pick her up, because I tried. I was really furious that I even had to deal with this at 3am. I was starting to feel like her babysitter, and I was really just OVER IT. Looking back on it, I should have let the water out of the tub, but it didn't occur to me in my half-asleep stupor. I was just pissed. I took a good look at the depth of the water and realized that she was too tall to slip under it. (E is about 5' 9") At the time, that was good enough for me. I figured the water would eventually get cold enough that it would wake her up and she would get out. So I turned the music down and went back to bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I totally panicked, because HOLY SHIT, I just left her there??? What the hell was I thinking??? I felt horrible. But I am a deep sleeper, and not the clearest thinker in the middle of the night. I still can't believe I did that, and I shudder to think of what could have happened. But at the time, I thought I had made a good decision. Stupid, I know. I feel really bad about that. Anyway, so I ran to her room and I saw that she was safe in her bed--WHEW. I didn't even tell her about it until several weeks later, because it was just so awkward, and I was so pissed about it, I didn't want to bring it up.

This, along with the random guy she left at my house, were major turning points in our relationship. I began to really resent her and grow very annoyed with her. Little things that hadn't bothered me before started to drive me up the wall. For example, every morning, she would ask me if her outfit looked ok. It always did, because she has the most gorgeous wardrobe you've ever seen, and thanks to the Adderoll, she's as thin as a rail. I am not nearly as good of a dresser as she, so it never made sense to me why she'd even ask for my opinion in the first place. After the Bathtub Incident, this little morning routine began to drive me insane. It began to feel like she just wanted to show off her clothes to me. As if that wasn't bad enough, I swear she began turning her iPod up more loudly, and she listened to the SAME four songs every morning. And she has really bad taste in music. For weeks, I had to listen to "Please don't stop the music please don't stop the music please don't stop the music!!" (that Rihanna song) at 67 decibels.

As if the morning wasn't bad enough, lunch breaks were even worse. When I go home for lunch every day, I like to read or watch "What Not to Wear". I don't mind a little small talk or gossip, but if E took her lunch at the same time, she would basically hijack my lunch time. E would often change outfits at lunch, so I would have to go through the whole outfit-approval discussion again. And instead of making small talk and letting me get back to my meal/book/tv show, she would use lunch breaks as an opportunity to inform me on one of the following topics:

OMG, You Won't Believe What Someone Did to Me!
My Ex-Boyfriend is an Asshole and You Won't Believe What He is Doing Now! (aka OMG, You Won't Believe What a Stalker I Am!)
OMG, I Hate My Job
OMG, My Boyfriend is Such an Asshole (Side note: he wasn't. He's actually a great guy. Who gave her the boot a few months ago, because he also grew tired of her crap.)

As you can probably gather from this list of topics, E has a tendency to be a martyr and dwell on things. She's a little obsessive about how people have wronged her. A lot of the time, like with her ex, she's right -- the guy is a total fucking jerk. But they broke up FOUR YEARS AGO. LET. IT. GO. She still, as far as I know, stalks his girlfriend on myspace, drives by their apartment, looks for his car when she goes out, etc. A lot of girls have done these things, including yours truly, but for FOUR years???? Good grief, Charlie Brown!

All of E's Martyr Talks got really old after a while. I just wanted to eat my sandwich and watch my show and be left alone. I did not go home for lunch to play therapist. To the same patient. With the same issues. Every day. Not surprisingly, she never took any of my (basic and obvious) advice anyway, which only irritated me further. It's like she is hell bent on making her life as difficult and emotionally upheaving as possible. I don't get it. So I began to take my lunch breaks very early, to avoid seeing her. She rarely went to lunch before noon, and never went back to work before 2pm (yeah, her job is another story!) . I have found that simply avoiding her works very well. I haven't had to watch The E Show in a very long time. (You know anyone like that? Every time they talk to you, it's all about them? Never about you? That's E in a nutshell.)

For a while, the nights and weekends were great -- she would be at her boyfriend's house, and I would be free of her. But as I said a little bit ago, several months ago, he apparently grew tired of her, too, and dumped her. So then she was suddenly at home all the time. When she started dating the guy she's currently with, I thought, "Great! Now she can start sleeping over at his house!" -- but I had no such luck. She managed to start dating a 33 year old guy who still lived with his parents. Not that he doesn't have any money -- he owns 3 cars. But I guess he still wants mommy to do his laundry. WTF.

So he started sleeping over all the time, which led to their shower antics and that time I kicked him out, etc--I have already told you about those things. He only made things worse.

One day, not too long before she moved out, I broke down and told E everything -- I went on and on and on. I talked about The Bathtub Incident, kicking her new guy out of the house, how she left the oven on all the time, how tired I was of getting up at night to turn things off, how she drove drunk, how absurdly she managed her money, how silly it was for her to obsess over her ex, how smoking cigarettes wasn't a good idea considering how much cancer ran in her family, how I was worried about her -- I went on and on and on, for about 30 minutes. I ended it with, "I am really worried about you and I think you need to think about going to rehab."

Know what her response was?

"OMG. You're right. I really need to stop taking Ambien. I will talk to my doctor and switch to something else."

When I started to tell her that wasn't really what I meant, she jumped in with,

"I am such a burden to you. It is so good that I'm moving out soon. I feel terrible. Don't worry. I will be gone soon. I am so sorry."

I guess some people just don't get it.

Stay tuned for Part II.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all. Be thankful you have a better head on your shoulders than my ex-roommate.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Now Taking Requests

I know things have been a little ho-hum around this blog lately. But never fear, dear readers, as I have a fun post today.

No, nothing really exciting happened. Unless you count the fact that I got out of going to The Czarina's for Thanksgiving. (YESSSSSSSS!!!, complete with a victory arm thrust) I was originally going to go up, because my most favoritest aunt was coming, too. But it turns out that she can't go, and since The Czarina feels guilty when I come home for Thanksgiving, she told me not to worry about driving up.

Gee, twist my arm.

I was really looking forward to your repeated and nagging comments about how fat I am. Or your oh-so-subtle digs implying I could find a better boyfriend. Or remind me of how miserable I am in my job. Because what are the holidays for, if not to make you feel bad about yourself? As much as I'd love to have a big plate, piled high with thick slabs of passive aggresiveness, steamed repressed emotions, a side of control freak stuffing, some you-are-a-fuck-up casserole and a glob of smashed happiness, smothered in guilt gravy and sprinkled with denial and delusion, I think I'll pass.

I swear to God, I love my mother. Just not these last few weeks. This bitterness is a temporary phase. I will go back to loving her shortly. Hopefully, before Christmas. That would be nice.

She feels like Thanksgiving weekend is too short of a time to drive 6 hours each way. "I know that I would not want to drive 6 hours to see you, only to turn around basically the next day and drive 6 hours back. I mean, that's a long weekend, where you spend 2 days driving," she always says. "So don't worry about it. Thanksgiving is not a big deal to me. I will just see you at Christmas."

Every year, when she says this, I think, "And THAT is why I live 6 hours away from you!"

For those of you who also have guilt-tripping, semi-manipulative mothers who try to warp your brain, right now you are thinking, "Um, VB, that sounds vaguely like a test. Methinks she is doing some reverse psychology on your ass, and she is secretly pissed at you for not driving up to see her."

To which I reply: It may very well be a test. But until she stops making me feel like a fat loser every time I visit her, I feel it's only fair that I get to, in turn, play dumb to her stupid little games and attempts at manipulating me. Fair enough?

Besides, now I am going with CN to have turkey day w/his family. And although they have issues of their own, as an outsider, I get to smile, pretend I don't know what's really going on and just ask people to please pass the mac n cheese. I offered to cook all the sides for Mrs. N (CN's Mom), since she's now back at work AND taking care of her sick husband. But she refused to hear of it, and told me that she only needed help in the pie department. So I am in charge of pies. Which is right up my alley, of course. (I'm going to make pumpkin and a pecan, in case you're curious.) I feel really good about helping her out, and wish I could do more for her and Mr. N.

In case you cannot tell by now, I have been a little pissy lately. Don't know why. Probably PMS. But I kind of like it. It's coming in really handy at the gym. CN has to bear the brunt of my ventings, lately, and he is quite amused. So don't sympathize with him. He uses my rantings as opportunities to make fun of me, which only irritates me further. If he weren't so damn cute and funny, he'd be on my shit list, too. But I can't stay mad at him, because he always leaves me laughing at myself. ARGH! That totally takes the wind out of my pissy little sails! I hate it when he does that!

On to the point of this post, which is this: Today, I was a good girl and tried to catch up on a lot of my blogs. So many of you have nice little comments from yours truly. But now I am ready to blog, too. The problem is, I have several potential blog topics for tomorrow. So I am taking requests. Which blog topic sounds most appealing to you?

#1: How The Czarina is trying her best to make Smurf feel like she is too stupid to get into college, and that Smurf should just let The Czarina pick her school for her and how I am doing everything in my power to remind Smurf that The Czarina sucks like that and that Smurf has excellent credentials and that since Smurf is going to be paying for the tuition herself (thank you, Federal School Loans), then she (NOT MOM) should get to pick where she goes to school.
Upside: I am pissy, especially at my mother, so this post would have lots of juicy venting.
Downside: It is depressing a little bit to think about how controlling my mother is.

#2: Holiday-related topic, whether Thanksgiving, shopping or Christmas related theme. Details TBA. Possibly a meme.
Upside: Who doesn't love some good holiday cheer? Memes are short entries, a good thing since we are all busy.
Downside: It's nothing to get excited about. Unless you really enjoy helping me come up with present ideas. Or hijacking memes for your own blogging pleasure.

#3: My new pothead neighbor
Upside: Pissy mood could lead to funny ranting. This topic also (vaguely) connected to Hot Neighbor, for those of you who remember this guy.
Downside: Ranting my go on too long to retain interest in my readers. New Pothead Neighbor is a real piece of work.

#4: The Story of My Last Irritating Encounter with E, My Recent Ex-Roommate, followed up by a rant/editorial about how pathetic certain women are and why.
Upside: Yay! More pissiness and bitching!!! Also, an ode to German cooking (trust me, it all fits into the story)
Downside: More pissiness and bitching. Nausea from the pathetic woman part.

#5: Ipod/computer confusion and/or issues.
Upside: First pick for my computer geek readers. Who I love. Because they might be able to help me with my ipod transfer. So I don't erase CN's library in the process. Helping me out with this little problem might get you on Santa's Good List.
Downside: YAAAAAAAAAAWN. Irritation with VB for picking a lame topic, wholly devoid of ranting.

*In New Yawkah accent, a la Cawfee Tawlk* So discuss amongst yourselves. Pick a topic, and I will extrapolate. I reserve the right to pick whatever topic I want. This is my blog, dammit, so you can suck it. (That is my new favorite thing to say. "SUCK IT!!!" I yell at CN when he makes fun of me.)

I only work a half day tomorrow, so if I don't hear from you or if you don't read this in time, I hope you have a very happy Thanksgiving. Remember to be thankful for everything you have: your job, your health, your family, your home, and yes, even your controlling and manipulative mother. Despite her delivery method, she really does love you and is only worried about you. She just shows it funny. Kind of like a drill sergeant would. Only with more guilt and snarky comments.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Popping Up: Ring Talk

Alright, I've been leaving you hanging long enough. I was hoping to have other interesting stories to share with you, too, but unfortunately, my life is pretty ho-hum right now. But you probably just want to know about the ring stuff, anyway, right? That's what I thought. So if, after reading this, you have any advice or insight into this situation, please share it with me. I'm a little frustrated and confused, as you will see.

So about three weeks ago, I was at the gym on a Saturday morning. While I was there, CN decided to check out the local flea market. While he was there, he saw a man selling Boston Terrier puppies and a French Bulldog. Knowing that I am a big fan of these two breeds, he told me about them when I got home from the gym. He asked me if I wanted to go see them. I said I would.

The puppies were, not surprisingly, adorable. And the French Bulldog was an adult female, all black. She was also gorgeous. And $600. The puppies were about $450. Needless to say, I did not buy any of the dogs for several reasons:

1. I don't know who the hell this flea market salesman is. For all I know, he could have stolen someone's dogs. Or the dogs could be in poor health.
2. I would rather get a rescued dog from a Boston Terrier or a Frenchie rescue organization. Or even a mutt. Homeless dogs need good homes!
3. I do not have the time or patience to deal with teaching a puppy to be house trained.
4. It is money I do not have to spend right now, anyway.
5. After the whole Toby thing, I really need to take my time and be 200% sure about getting a 2nd dog. It costs a lot to take care of two, not just financially, but my house gets extra dirty, it takes longer to care for them and walk them, etc. Although I love the idea of having a playmate for Sammy, it's a big decision and not one I take lightly.

But it was still fun to look at them. The adult female Frenchie is exactly the dog I would love to have, too.

Later on that day, CN and I were at Wal-Mart, and we talked about how cute the flea market dogs were as we shopped.

"Yeah, I thought about surprising you with one of the puppies," he said. (Hear those points racking up for CN? The man knows good gifts, I'm telling you. Even if it did piss all over my house, I would have been totally stoked to have a little puppy.)

"OMG, don't you DARE spend that kind of money on me! That is just ridiculous. Besides, those dogs were waaaay overpriced," I replied. (I know no men reading this will believe me, but I really was glad he didn't spend that kind of money on me. I would be racked with guilt.)

"Yeah," he replied, "I thought that I could either get you a dog, or I could get you a ring. I figured you'd rather have the ring, right?"

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather! I was basically speechless, which doesn't happen to me very often. I just nodded in agreement and rambled something out of my mouth. I don't remember what I said!

This came out of the blue for me. Every time CN and I watched something about marriage or engagements on tv, he said every time, "WOW, I can't believe how quickly they got engaged! People shouldn't get engaged until they've been dating at least two years! That's just too soon!"

Whenever he would say this, I would sort of mentally sigh. I mean, let's face it. He and I are really good together. We are crazy about each other. We both agree this is by far the best relationship we've ever been in. And I'm a 29 year old woman. I want to get married. Yesterday.

So, based on his reaction to engaged couples on tv, I have always just sort of expected that we would never talk about this idea for a while. I have been thinking seriously about exactly how long I am willing to wait around. Am I willing to wait for 2 years? 4 years? I have been trying to avoid the topic, because I know how it freaks guys out. But I have to admit, I'm reaching that, "Ok, so exactly where is this going?" point. I have been trying my best not to bring it up.

But lately, it's been popping up. Sometimes, he brings it up. Sometimes, I start an innocuous conversation that dances around the topic. Sometimes, a conversation about our futures will turn into conversations about buying a house together, moving somewhere together, having kids together, long term financial plans...but up until a few weeks ago, nothing has been said about marriage or engagement stuff. He has felt comfortable talking about houses, kids, moving, etc. But not actual jewelry purchases or formal ceremonies involving multi-tiered cakes.

And now, we've had more and more of them. And at least 3 conversations about kids-- even down to baby names. And at least two about engagements. He emails house listings to me -- "Look at this house! We can afford this!" Maybe my coworkers' prediction is right: they have all been saying I will be engaged by the end of the year. (I personally am doubting this, at this point. Maybe next summer, at the earliest. If I don't screw things up. If he has more money than I know about. If pigs start flying.)

So naturally, I am a little excited about this, even if it's just talking and wishing. :D

But I'm also frustrated, because whenever I bring up anything about the future, he starts to make jokes about me nagging him or pressuring him or rushing things. The other day, he said, "Gah! If you keep talking about it, you won't know if I do it because I want to or if it's to shut you up and get you to stop nagging!"

Note: I am not nagging. I have not asked for anything, nor have I repeated any sort of request. I am not an asker or beggar or ultimatum-making kind of girl. Anytime the words "engaged" "ring" "wedding" or "marriage" come out of my mouth, suddenly I am a big nag. It's ok for him to talk about stuff, but I am not "allowed" to start the conversation -- only react to what he says. ARGH. He only does this to irritate me. I know it.

Although he is joking, I go ahead and just back off and change the subject. Now, I am totally avoiding any discussions about the future in every sense of the word. I am not going to let a little double standard mess things up for me. LOL

But it is a little frustrating for him to open up a door, but refuse to let me talk about it!!!! I am not known for being quiet!!!! Or patient!!!!

MJ thinks he is testing me. Feeling things out, as it were. I think he is blowing smoke up my ass. But that's my inner pessimist talking. What do you think? Is he testing me? Is he being serious? How do I handle this? I need to relax, don't I?

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Blogging Rut

Can you tell I'm in a blogging rut? It's just one of those times in your life where there isn't much going on, and I don't want to bore my readers with mundane things, so I just don't blog. Life hits lulls in action like this sometimes. Maybe it is the quiet before the storm?

Random updates..........(this will be super-random, I apologize, but it's been a long day at the library!)

First let me say that if you are a vet, thank you for serving our country. I cannot imagine the sacrifice our veterans have made over the decades and am grateful to all veterans for keeping us safe and free. If I could, I would be proud to shake your hand. :)

Yes, I am still obsessed with genealogy. I will spare you the details. But I haven't really been up to much else. That is so sad to type that, and then read it. And realize it's a statement about yourself...*sigh* I am 29, yet I live the life of an 83 year old. What can I say? I have never been cool. Why start now? There's no use in denying my lack of general hipness.

As I predicted in my last post, Lady Starfish did not call. I am not really surprised by that, and not really sure what to do. After a certain point, it takes two people to make a friendship work. I feel like I have always been the one to do the work. Then again, as we can see from the last paragraph, it's not like she's missing much.

Speaking of friendships...

Did I tell you that my roommate, E, moved out? She moved out at the end of October. Which is fine by me. Things had been...uncomfortable between us for some time. The random guy in her bed (uh, there's a post on it...somewhere...) was pretty much the nail in the coffin for our peaceful cohabitation. Although I will miss having the extra money, it is such a relief to know that I don't have to share my house with anyone else anymore. To be honest, she was driving me batty, and I don't know if I can even still be friends with her. What is that saying....familiarity breeds contempt? Yes, I think that sums it up pretty well. I might blog more about this at a later point. I'm starting to think that there is something wrong with me, as I am starting to not like most people the older I get....hmmm. This might deserve a post of its own...perhaps my personality is aging faster than my body? I am starting to feel like a cranky old fart trapped in an overweight young person's body......oh dear......

I didn't do much for Halloween. JP (my other partner in crime) and I went to MJ's house to give out candy to trick-or-treaters and watch a scary movie. The trick-or-treaters never showed up, so JP and I got to take home all the left over candy. Which is great if you have a sweet tooth, but BAD if you have a sweet tooth AND you're trying to lose weight. (And to answer your question, no, I have not lost any weight. And I don't want to talk about it.) We watched a movie called The Strangers, and it was pretty good. It definitely had some freaky moments.

After that, I got a pretty bad cold, so I felt like crap all last week-- up until yesterday, really. I was Kleenex Queen. All I wanted to do was take swigs from a bottle of Nyquil, nap on my couch and eat soup.

Let's see. What else has been going on.

Sammy has an ear infection.

MJ is dating a hot French guy.

I am getting back into working out again (still waiting for diet motivation to make an appearance, however...).

Last night, I dreamt that I was on a road trip with Barack Obama. I was riding shotgun in a beat-up pick up truck, and I said something funny, and we had a good laugh. That's all I remember.

Oh, and CN used the phrase, "...or I could get you a ring." the other day.


Yup. You read that correctly. More later. I will keep you hanging for now!