RingWatch 2013?

Hi, everyone. I miss you. I miss blogging and reading other blogs like I used to. I would like to say that I will be blogging more, but I don't know if I will. You see, my day usually goes like this:

5am (sometimes) -- get up and go for a run or hit the gym. Ok, full disclosure.....lately, it's been like, twice a month. Usually I sleep in until....

6:30am -- wake up at boyf's, walk and feed dog. Eat breakfast, then go to my house to get ready for work.

9am -- go to work. Yes, it takes me that long to get ready. There is significant dawdling. Unfortunately, I am already supposed to be at work at this time.....

9:20 -- actually arrive at work. I am lucky to have a boss that doesn't care I do this every day. Mostly because she spends the vast majority of her day on the phone, arguing with her lawyer or yelling at her soon-to-be-ex-husband. Or dealing with some other personal life fiasco. I detest my job. My boss is a big part of it. Don't get me wrong, she's a really nice, funny, cool person. I would totally go on vacation with her. I just hate working for her. I should really write a post about work...I have venting that needs to be done.

5:20 -- time to go home. Yes, I make up all the time because I was raised Catholic and if I don't work exactly 40 hours/week, I will go to Hell. If you're not Catholic in any way, you will never understand this.

5:40 -- get home, walk dog, put on comfy clothes (bye-bye, bra!). Boyfriend calls me to have our daily debate: will I make dinner at my house or will I make dinner at his house or will we go out to dinner. I hardly ever make dinner at my house, despite the fact that I much MUCH prefer cooking at my place (he doesn't have a vegetable peeler....or many other things you need to cook with. Which is fine, because he's a bachelor. But lugging my kitchen stuff over to his house all the time gets old sometimes.) He usually wins the debate. Which is fairly logical, because, as he points out, I always spend the night over at his house anyway. (He has a queen-size bed. Nuff said.)

Sometime in the evening -- I get to his house. We usually watch Jeopardy while eating dinner. Then we watch more tv until I fall asleep at 10pm. He is a freak who needs 5 hours of sleep every night, so he stays up.

If you review the list above, you will notice a lack of the following lifestyle activities: exercise, hanging out with girlfriends, blogging, puttering around my own house and doing things that do not involve a screen -- TV or otherwise. Unless we are at work or a doctor's appointment, we are probably together.

...and that is why I have put on 15 pounds. And why my house is a mess. And why I haven't paid my taxes yet. Or done any number of me-time things. Like blog. Or buy some new iTunes. The only reason I am doing this today is because I took the day off.

If you're anything like me, right now you are screaming at your computer, saying, "Dude! What are you doing? You have morphed into a 'we' and have forgotten the 'me'! This is not healthy for you or your relationship! Carve out some me time -- STAT!"

And you'd be right. But trust me, it's easier said than done. Mostly because he is my most favoritest person EVER in the whole world and I never get sick of hanging out with him. When I do have "VB time", I spend a lot of it wishing he was with me -- I just wish he was in the other room so I can get some stuff done.

Now, before you all begin gagging yourselves with spoons, I can tell you that we do argue. We have some things we will never agree on, like the fact that I would like his home to be free of cats and he would like it if I would be better about taking my dirty dishes to the kitchen. (I am notorious for leaving them on the coffee table.) But there is no one I'd rather argue with. Does that make sense?

I recently read an article where the author interviewed several couples. Each couple has been married for eons, and the author was trying to crack the case: what is the secret to a long marriage? Typically, the answer was never defined in this piece (article FAIL), but one part did stick out to me:

Author, addressing ancient husband: Did you ever have moments where you didn't want to be with her?
Ancient husband: Not be with her? What? No. Never. But did I ever want to kill her? YES. Many times.

And I totally understood.

So yes, it is going splendidly. We agree that this is what we've both been looking for all these years and we can't believe we dated all those other people who were so wrong for us. We talk about the future all the time. He gets upset if I speak of my future in a way that implies I'd be doing it as a single woman. We have named our children. Well, ok, we have named the first one. If it's a girl. I have started to realize that my future doesn't make sense if he's not in it. To quote The Princess Bride, it's inconceivable. Even The Czarina and MJ are asking me "So..............are you engaged yet????"

I have to reassure them that RingWatch 2013 is still on. But knowing him, he has stuff planned and up his sleeves, and I am totally clueless. Who knows. Part of me is screaming, "I AM 34!!!! LET'S GET A MOVE ON!!!" but and equal part of me is just happy I found him and I'm enjoying the ride. Ok, that's a lie. It's more like 80/20, respectively. My ovaries are shriveling, people. This ratio may grow even more lopsided if personal milestones continue to pass by without any bended knees taking place. New Year's? Nope. Valentine's Day? Earrings instead. (Which I adore, for the record.) Birthday? Well, at this point, he's 48 hours late....so I'm not holding my breath. Some of you are doing the math and wish to point out that we've only been dating for 9 months. To that, I say, shut the hell up because you're probably a smug married with a baby on your knee. When you know, you know. May 23rd will be one year, so perhaps then???

I have come to realize that good relationships are just as difficult to manage and understand as bad ones. With other guys (read: most of the jerks I dated), I was so wrapped up with "Does he really love me? Is he interested in committing?" Most of my mental energy was wrapped up in determining if he liked me. Now, most of my mental energy is split between 1) doing what I need to do to make this relationship a priority in my life and keep him happy and 2) figuring out how to fit him into my life without losing myself in the process. So it's a juggling game. I'm trying to navigate it. If you sagacious smug marrieds have any advice on how to do this, please impart your wisdom. I wish I could say I feel smothered...........but I don't. This is making it difficult.

In a deliciously serendipitous finale to this post, he and I just called each other at the exact. same. moment. We are ridiculous.

My New Home, Part 2

I was a little worried about the location of my new place in Savannah. There are certain roads you shouldn't live near if you want to feel safe, and I am a block away from one, and a block away from another. If I were one block east or south of where I am, I would be in an iffy part of town.

Keep in mind that the couple moving in above me won't be there for another 3 weeks after I move in. It will be just me and Sammy at first, all alone in the new place.

Math time!

One big, old empty house
living on the edge of the safe part of town
+ my overactive imagination
-------------------------------
= major panic.

Who knows an area better than the people who live there, right? I mean, after being in Columbia for 6 years, I can tell anyone where to live and where to avoid. So I hit up some Savannah message boards to gather some opinions about the level of safety I could expect.

EVERY person (there were about 10) who replied told me that if I can get out of my lease, I should. The phrases "not a good area at all" and "I would not want my daughter to live there" and "wouldn't be able to find a less desirable location if you tried" were used. Oh dear. That's not good.

So last week, I basically freaked out and thought about breaking my lease. Or buying a gun. Or a very large German Shepherd with a nasty temper. Or a taser. Or something. Anything. All I could think was "I am alone, on the ground floor and it would not be very difficult to break into my house if you were a very large and very violent bad guy. I am toast. I might as well start preparing myself to be beaten up, robbed and gang-banged." After he stopped teasing me about being so paranoid, I made CN promise to stay with me for a few days once I move in.

Luckily, MJ calmed me down a LOT and reminded me that I will probably be fine and that there's no way to 100% avoid crime anywhere you live. She lived in a really REALLY bad part of town when she first moved to Columbia, and she had no problems. Just because you might live near some sketchy areas doesn't meat you're guaranteed to be a crime victim. And just because you're in a nice part of time doesn't mean you won't be a target, either. She said the message board people were probably trying to freak me out and all of them probably live in a cushy suburb somewhere. One man's ghetto is another man's "oh, this is fine."

And the most common crime in my part of downtown is car break-ins. (I looked it up on the police dept website) Which probably won't happen to me, because I drive a friggin Pontiac Vibe and all I keep in there are some scratched up CDs. I'm not much of a target.

So I asked my landlord if I could install some motion-detector lights, and he said yes. I asked MJ if I could borrow her super-scary chocolate lab mix, Nabisco. She said yes. I felt that would be good, but if I started to feel a little nervous, I would think about getting a taser or a home security system.

Yesterday, MJ and I went down to Savannah so she could see my place and I could start moving some of my stuff in, get my key, think about where my furniture will go, etc. Once we were all done, we took a walk, grabbed some lunch and came back to the house. We sat on the front steps and watched the neighborhood for a while. We didn't see anything scary or sketchy. It was actually very very quiet. We went back inside and were about to leave when we heard a commotion outside. It was a group of kids. Two of them were having a fist fight in the middle of the street! These kids were maybe in middle school. After a little noise, a bunch of people came outside to see what was going on, and one of the moms in the building across the street broke it up. It was maybe 30 seconds of craziness. No biggie.

I took advantage of the situation and introduced myself to a neighbor and began asking questions about the safety of the neighborhood. "You just witnessed the worst thing I've seen since I moved here," he said. WHEW! That was good to hear! "Everyone on this street expects everyone else to look out for each other," he continued. The street was about half renters, half owner-occupied. Which is a good mix, I think.

He introduced me to a few more neighbors, and they all said they felt fine living there. They had never seen any crimes or anything unusual or dangerous. The iffy-looking building across the street was full of low-income families -- lots of single moms with kids who never bothered anyone. They said I had nothing to worry about, as long as I don't do anything stupid (like leave my doors unlocked) or showy. (Not like I have any fancy gadgets to be showy with!) My house is surrounded by college kids with irregular schedules who throw house parties on the weekends. If their parents can sleep at night knowing their kids are ok, then I can, too.

So I feel a LOT better. But I'm still going to borrow one of CN's golf clubs and put up motion detector lights. Just in case.

The $300 Water Bottle

I am nothing if not determined. And patient. And thorough.

Y'all would die laughing if you knew how I spend my time on some days. I can spend a week looking for a song I heard. Once, I spent a week looking for a friend of mine from childhood, Tori Condorodis. (Tori, if you are reading this, I have been looking for your ass for years, girl! YEARS!) I have stubbornly hunted down lyrics, book titles, SNL skits, the cheapest airline tickets, historical facts, urban legends, etymology tidbits, untold unusual items on eBay, the perfect paint color for my bathroom and recipes for coconut cheesecake. And then there's the whole genealogy thing I've been on for the past few months. That's an entirely different story!

It's only made worse by the fact that I'm a professional librarian, because not only do I know where to go and how to search for something, I am also trained to be resourceful and think of other ways to find whatever it is I'm looking for when I hit a stumbling block.

And today, I have hit a big one. So I am taking a break from my searching before I scream and pull out my hair so that I may vent here.

A little back story for you. Right when we first started dating, I mentioned to CN how much I disliked most re-usable water bottles on the market. I don't like the ones with the straws, because the straws are too difficult to clean, and sometimes they fall off the lid, which causes you to stop what you're doing, unscrew the lid and stick the straw back in. I hate the ones you squeeze, because I somehow either end up choking on the water or spilling it everywhere. I don't like the ones where you have to unscrew a top to get to the water. And all the other ones I've tried are poorly made, and break too easily. Or they are too tall to fit into the dishwasher. I just got a new one, and it is horrid -- it leaks EVERYWHERE. I have been on a quest for a great water bottle for years, people. YEARS. On the top shelf of my kitchen cupboard resides a graveyard of discarded water bottles that didn't make the cut.

One day a few weeks later, CN came over and told me he had gotten me something. This is one of my favorite things he says, so he had my undivided attention. From behind his back, he pulled out a large, green water bottle.

It.

Was.

Perfect.

High quality plastic, a beautiful green color, large enough to hold enough water for a long workout, a little plastic ring to make it easy to carry...and the best part of all: a GENIUS lid. All you do is push this little button, and the top flips up to reveal an ergonomical spout from which to drink your water -- no squeezy thing, no straws. When closed, the lid protects the spout and the water from germs, dirt and debris. Which was a feature I hadn't even thought of, but instantly loved.

"And it's dishwasher safe," CN explained proudly.

I may have fallen in love with him right at that moment.

Do you see where this is going? Yeah. About a month or so ago, I lost it. I cannot find it anywhere, not even in my car, which is where my lost things usually end up. The last time I remember having it, I was finishing up a workout with my trainer. Despite my repeated pleadings with the gym staff to search in the lost and found "just one more time, please", it has not turned up. The gym staff thinks I am a psycho, because I come up to the desk once a week, frantically searching for a stupid $5 water bottle, but I don't care. I am lost without it. I regret that I never truly appreciated the water bottle until I lost it. It was always my favorite, mostly because CN gave it to me, but now I appreciate it for its impeccable design.

My first instinct was to ask my trainer if he'd picked it up for me. No dice. (He also looked at me like I was a little crazy.) Since then, I have scanned the gym every time I am there, looking for the bastard who ganked my bottle. I know what happened. I left it sitting on a bench while I dug for my keys, and then I just left it there when I walked out. Someone with a good eye for a perfect water bottle came along and decided to just keep it. Which is really stealing, in essence. A responsible person, like yours truly, returns things to the front desk. (I found a watch once, and a wallet -- I promptly turned them in to the staff. You'd think karma would pay me back for that!!!)

But one day, they will screw up. I know it. Right now, they are laying low, hiding out with my water bottle. They probably only use it at home or at work. They are too afraid to return to the scene of the crime with it. But one day.....one day....They will forget that they stole it, and bring it to the gym, where I will see them using it, and confront them, probably with much hostility. And possible bloodshed. *In Arnold Schwarzenegger voice* I will get it back.

This is what I get for not appreciating my bottle!! It has been taken away from me!! And given to someone else who loves it, probably as much as I do!! And I cannot even bear to tell CN that I lost it. It is my dirty little secret I am keeping from him. I am ashamed of myself. One of the best things he ever gave me, and I carelessly leave it laying around for someone who is too cheap to go buy his own water bottle.

Just to rub salt into the wound, that bitch Karma has ensured that I will never be able to get a water bottle like that again. The store where CN got it no longer sells them. Which prompted me to go on a searching binge to buy one online. "Oh, one little trip over to Amazon.com will take care of that," I thought.

Not so fast, VB. Amazon only sells your average, flawed water bottles. So does Target. And Walmart. And Dick's Sporting Goods. And the camping supply store in town. And all the grocery stores (yes, I have visited just about every one in town). Buying one off of eBay just doesn't sound like a good idea. Who knows where the water bottle has been??

An intensive, hours-long Internet search led me to -- JOY!! -- a website selling the same bottle, but with a company logo on it. Logo, schmogo -- I wanted my water bottle NOW! Who cares if it promotes a company? I click "Buy" and...

"This item is no longer available."

Are you freaking kidding me.

I went back to the drawing board. Eventually, I managed to find out the make and model of the water bottle. (Yes, it's like a car. This is the Cadillac of water bottles, I'm telling you.) Now, I have something to work with!! Surely, some retailer sells these little buggers online! I did a search for the make and model. A bazillion hits. Jackpot!!!!

Upon further inspection, I realize that Little Miss Karma is a sick, evil and twisted little bitch: the bottles are only sold through those business promotions companies, you know, the places where you go to get your company logo put onto 450 coffee cups or 1600 ballpoint pens.

In my frenzied state of desperation, I almost went for it: "Ok, let's see. I can get 36 of them for $7.19 each...plus a $50 flat rate for the order set-up....which comes out to....$308.84. Plus shipping. Hmmm. Maybe I can get an Indiana University logo on it...or a cute message, and then I can give them out as gifts! Yeah!"

When reality set back in, I realized this was far too much to spend on water bottles. Worse yet, my friends would hate me for giving them a stupid water bottle every year for their birthdays. "But check out the lid! It flips! Isn't that awesome? This year, I decided to give you a purple one!" I would say.

*sigh*

So, my search continues. But if you are one of those people who orders the little freebies with the company logo imprinted on them, will you please get your logo put onto H2Go's Zuma water bottle?? I'll take any color. I'll buy 10 from you. And I will I verbally promote your business until the cows come home! I promise!

And if you happen to see one of my beloved Zuma water bottles for sale at your local store, please buy me 3 of them. Trust me, I will make it worth your time! Here's a photo, which can be easily printed out and carried in your wallet for reference purposes:

Genealogics Anonymous

OMG. I need help, you guys. I am not exaggerating when I say that just about every waking minute of every day for the last week or so has involved me talking about genealogy, researching genealogy or thinking about genealogy.

MJ is about to kill me she is so sick of me talking about it.

CN caved in to my nagging, and is now letting me research his family, too.

To make it even worse, Ancestry.com gives you a free 14 day trial, so I'm trying to milk every last free minute out of them.

I have found relatives in Oklahoma, Seattle, Chicago, Massachusetts, Iowa, Minnesota, NYC, Kansas, St. Louis, Wisconsin, Virginia, upstate New York and Connecticut.

I have found the following weird first names: Karona, Gerhard, Aloysius, Cornelia, Herbert, Velvet, Elisha, Hepzebah, Bertha, Adelaide, Jerusha, Augustus, Eleazer, Ephraim, Jabez, Dorcas, Larvina, Hezekiah, Ulysses, Isolde, Chamberlain, Mercy, Ruke, Ebenezer, Asaph, Huldah, Prince, Waitstill, Celestine, too many Gertrudes to count and my favorite name so far: Bartimus.

I have found Revolutionary War heroes, Civil War casualties, steamboat operators, inventors, someone who went to court with Henry Ford, professors, dentists, judges, lawyers, real estate agents, oil company managers, doctors, bookstore owners, hardware salesmen, railroad engineers, preachers, and of course, lots and lots and LOTS of farmers.

I have, according to Ancestry.com, traced my family back to the 1380s (!!) in England. Obviously, there's no way to prove the records are correct, but then again, there's probably no way to disprove them, either.

Every once in a while, I stumble upon cool family stories and photos that other genies haves submitted to Ancestry.com or one of the other websites I'm using. Which is basically like crack to me. I will spare you these stories for now. Because telling them will only fan the flames. I am dealing with a serious addiction! Don't believe me?

These are the signs of an addiction:

Loss of interest in things that were important before.
Long, unexplained absences.
Decrease in performance at work or school.
Wanting to participate in addictive activity at all times of the day.
Increased desire for more of the activity.
Participating in the activity alone for long periods of time.
High tolerance for participating in the activity.
Preoccupation or craving.
Continued use.
Withdrawl symptoms.
Finding an excuse for doing it.

I'm even annoying myself at this point. I am not interested in going out, working out, reading a book or watching tv. For me, it's All Genie, All the Time. What if I can't stop? What if I turn into a shriveled up, little old lady genealogist who cannot hold normal conversations, because she constantly asks if you're referring to the Iowa McCrackens or the Minnesota McCrackens? ? Genealogy is pretty addictive, because there's always one. more. person. to. find.

Everyone has a mother and a father. And most people have siblings. It could go on forever.

I (obviously) haven't done much work, haven't gone to the gym, haven't cleaned my house...I haven't done much of anything, including blog reading. I am going to try and go on detox here this week, so I need your support. I think that in baby steps, I can make it out ok and come back to the world of the living.

Hi, my name is Virginia. And I'm a genealogy addict.

Fashion and the City

This past weekend, I managed to squeeze in enough time to catch the Sex and the City Movie with MJ and her coworker JP. (Since KT moved back to NY, JP has been a super-fun replacement in our girl gang. Not that KT can be replaced, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I love making new friends, so it's always nice to see JP.)

After the movie was over, MJ & JP mentioned that they thought the clothes were ugly, outrageous and impractical. I, on the other hand, thought they were FANTASTIC. They are fun and irreverent. When I go to the movies, I want to escape my mundane life and pretend I have another life -- usually, the life of the heroine. I think this is why I like romantic comedies so much. My life can always use more laughter and love, as far as I'm concerned.

In the case of SATC, I love to watch it and pretend that

A) I live in NYC, my thus-far favorite place on Earth,
B) It is socially acceptable to wear outrageous haute couture clothing that is so artistic and unique, and
C) I have enough money to do both things.

So to say that I really enjoyed this movie is an understatement. It was like a wonderful, extra-long season finale episode. Now, ladies, if you haven't seen it yet, I promise I won't give any plot details away. But I have GOT to share these fabulous (and, admittedly socially outlandish) clothes with you!!!! Yes, I know they are silly and crazy. But I love them!!! I love how fun fashion can be. I love that fashion is sort of like art in motion. It's like a painting or a feeling that you can wear. I love how confident the women who wear these clothes are. I really wish I got to wear such crazy stuff all the time. And why not? Life is short. The way we dress is one of the few things we have control over in this life. It's just an outfit. It's temporary. Removable. Fun. We watch crazy things on tv. We eat crazy foods at exotic restaurants. Why not wear crazy clothes, too? Who's with me?

I think I am hearing crickets. *sigh* Ok, fine. I guess the cheese stands alone.

I know men don't "get" SATC and they think it's all man-bashing. And I know most people don't get the crazy clothes. Or the absurdity of the fact that a writer, living alone in NYC, can afford a designer wardrobe. But I am totally ok with suspending reality when I'm watching a movie. And I really enjoyed suspending reality for this one! So ladies, if you have been planning on seeing it, you've GOT to. It was a great movie, even if you are just a minor fan of the show. But I wouldn't go see it if I were a novice fan. You've got to understand the history of Carrie & Big, Miranda & Steve, Charlotte & Harry and Samantha & Smith so you won't get lost. Ok, enough about the movie. Let's look at the clothes!!!

Here were my faves:
Hello! How badly do I want a pair of zebra shoes like these now? LOVE how Carrie wears them with a red print and a sequin minidress. Great contrast.
Alright, everyone has been dissing the bird in her hair. But I think it's AWESOME. Very Carrie. And I love the color. So original -- who else wears feathers in their hair on their wedding day?? Almost like a hat. And I love women in hats. I want hats to come back!!
Miranda's blue dress might be the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. And Charlotte's roses are my favorite color.
Ok, I am not really feeling this green dress that much. But I do like the shoes! Gladiator stilettos?? I am woman, hear me roar! RAWR!!!
I have to admit, I could do without Samantha's shoulder pads. But I love everything else, especially Miranda's gold dress.
LOVE the dresses Charlotte and Miranda are wearing.
Gorgeous, gorgeous gorgeous. Another shot of Charlotte's bridesmaid dress.
Super fun dress. Love the hot pink with the belt. I'm not feeling the footwear, though...it's too much, even for me.
Freaking awesome dress. Yes, I know it looks like the flower is eating her face. But it's so dramatic. *sigh*
I'm pretty sure this dress is from a scene that was cut. But isn't it fantastic?? So feminine.

Now, unless you have seen the movie, you won't understand the significance of these blue satin Manolos, but aren't they just perfect??? I wish I had a pair. Note to self: buy pair of blue satin stilettos, despite the fact you have no outfit to wear with them.

Ok, fashion moment over. Back to reality. Brown pants. Ruffled aqua blouse. Flat, brown sandals. South Carolina. Yawn.

Ouch, My Brain Hurts

1. I have had to stop and think about which day of the week it is about 5 times today. Wednesday? Friday? Who knows? I think this is because I have done a bunch of random, non-routine things this week. It's throwing me off.

2. One of those things is that I started my new part-time job at a department store I will refer to as Dildo's. I spent 2 hours folding clothes last night. It was like cleaning my room. Only more anal-retentive. I spent the other 2 hours bored out of my gourd. Ugh. I forgot how much retail sucks. It's all coming back to me now.

3. ...and now I have that stupid Meatloaf song in my head. "There were nights when the wind was so cold...." Dammit. Oh well. Hey, I'm $40 richer today than yesterday. That will buy one tank of gas. Approximately.

4. Boston cream pie yogurt sounds good......in theory.

5. So does trying to work out with my trainer on an empty stomach.

6. So do shrimp enchiladas.

7. I am a little concerned about the fact that I am having MAJOR CN withdrawls, when it's only been 48 hours since I saw him last. Like, I am almost in tears. WTF?? That is just not normal. I'm not even hormonal or anything. I'm just like, "I want my boyfriend!!!" (Don't tell him I said that if you know him IRL. Or I will kill you.)

8. I have probably gained 5 pounds this week. I have eaten: 4 pieces of pizza, 2 pieces of cheesecake, ice cream and 3 pieces of chocolate cake. FUCK. Why can't I say no to work parties??

9. Oh yeah. Because I don't want to be that girl. The girl in the office who is too health conscious not to join in on the work party. I hate that girl. She eats a salad and drinks water and watches everyone else laugh and eat cake. She is not fun. No one likes her.

10. Work is stressing me the fuck out this week. Between the Big Pain in My Ass Project, end-of-the-fiscal year crap and a serious lack of training, I am annoyed and overwhelmed. Argh.

11. I really need to go for a run at the gym tonight. A nice, long run. (See #8 and #10) Running makes everything better. It is the best solution to feeling overwhelmed.

12. Now that I have a part time job, I am feeling like maybe I have bitten off more than I can chew in the scheduling department. CN is making jokes about how we will never see each other again. But I'm looking at my calendar, and between my real job, my part time job, the gym, my friends, sleeping, and just regular errand-running and living.......crap. When are we going to hang out?? I am starting to get the feeling that soon I will feel I'm stretched too thin. Ugh. Why do I do this to myself?? In 2 months, I will have a sobbing breakdown. Either that, or no clean underwear.

13. Wal-Mart was out of my usual deodorant last week. So today, I am wearing a new one. Isn't it funny how you get used to your deodorant smell, and you don't even smell it anymore? Because all I can smell now is the new one. And I'm all, "What's that smell? Oh yeah." -- I have done it about 20 times today. It smells good, but it's throwing me off.

14. You know you're tired when Tetris seems like astro-physics. I think my top score today was like 3000. It's normally about 17,000. I think a post-work nap is in order.

15. MJ wants to go to Philly in June to see KT and The Rat Pack. This involves a 10 hour road trip. I am not a big fan of any road trip over 7 hours. I only have one vacation day left, and the trip is a 4 day weekend. My part time job is probably not going to let me have that weekend AND the next weekend off. (Going home to see The Czarina the weekend after.) Luckily, I do have the money go to to Philly. Otherwise, getting it all squared away is adding to my Life Stress. And CN is having a hard time understanding why I want to drive 10 hours to go hang out with 4 guys I barely know. "Because they are fun and we do this every year" doesn't cut it as an answer, apparently. Neither does "Do you want to go with us?". He's fine with me going, I just think he's a little confused. He's been making jokes about going to Vegas to hang out with chicks he barely knows. Har har.

Ok, time to go home. Hopefully, when I run tonight, I will get that song out of my head. I friggin hate Meatloaf.

Sorry for the random post today, guys. My brain is kind of disorganized right now. This means soon, I will forget something really important. Great.

Cruise News, Part 2

This is Day #2 of the cruise.

Our gang spent most of their time hanging out by the pool. Although I don't like getting sunburned and I tend to get bored sitting by a pool all day, I decided to join in anyway. I was sitting on my chair, reading a magazine, as everyone else in our group was in the pool, drinking. They had been drinking since about 9am, so by this point, the group is quickly getting rowdy. They invited me to go down the pool's water slide with them. I had to admit, it looked like a lot of fun. So everyone put down their drinks and we all got in line. The slide was SO FUN!! After going down it, I hung out in the pool for a bit with everyone. It was all going fine and dandy, until CN asked Larva: "Hey, Larva. We've been drinking all morning, and we have all had to get out of the pool to go pee except you. Don't you have to pee??"

It turns out that Larva, a 35 year old father of 4, had been peeing in the pool.

And when I slid down the slide, I had gotten water in my mouth.

So that was the end of the pool for me, folks. At this point, I was starting to dislike Larva, but since he's CN's old college buddy, I decided not to say anything at that time. I just excused myself and took a shower. And a nap.

I hadn't really thought about it beforehand, but being on a cruise ship means that you are stuck with about 1,500 strangers, and you cannot escape them. Everywhere I went, it was impossible to be alone. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, even if you are a people person like me, but trust me -- it is. Forget having romantic walks on the deck after dinner -- you will be joined by 50 total strangers, most of whom are loud and drunk. Forget having a nice, quiet breakfast with your sweetie -- you will have to eat with a table full of strangers, and you will feel obligated to make small talk. You will have the same small talk conversation with strangers every morning. This gets old quickly. Even finding a nice chair where you can read your book quietly is impossible. I read somewhere once that having at least one hour per day where you are totally alone helps relieve stress. You know what? It's true. Each day, I felt my stress level rising.

By the second day, I was starting to get cranky. Between Larva's antics, the disappointing food, the icky shower and being surrounded by strangers everywhere I went, I was getting a little irritable. Luckily, I kept it in check. My daily mid-afternoon nap helped. That bed made everything better. And thank goodness for the Discovery Channel -- I watched a lot of cool shows. But dammit, I could have done that at home for free, you know?

I would like to say that at least I wasn't bored, but I was -- hence the Discovery Channel binge. It was probably because I don't drink. All the drunk people seemed to be having a blast, especially if they were in the college-age range. There was always a spontaneous party at the pool, complete with dancing and drunken antics. I had fun doing that stuff when I was younger, but now, I'd rather read a book or go see a museum. (I am a frumpy, old dork. Trust me, I know.) It didn't help that everything was scheduled all the time. It made vacation feel like work. When I'm on vacation, I don't want to worry about being late for anything. I want to make my own schedule. Not be subjected to the whims of some cruise director.

There was always something going on, I will say that. A lot of people hung out in the casino. But CN and I don't gamble, so the casino didn't hold our interest. The bingo and trivia contests were at bad times for us (ie, nap time), or just didn't sound worthwhile. They had an art auction, but I didn't have the money to do that -- plus, the art was hideous. I really don't like musicals, so the night shows didn't sound fun to me. We kept hearing that the stand-up comedian wasn't very good, so we decided to skip that. I am not really the sort of person who wants to spend time learning how to make towel animals or line dance. All the activities felt like they were just something to do to kill time, not something I would normally want to do.

What I really wanted to do was go to some historic district, eat local food, go to a museum, take an old homes tour, check out local art and architecture, explore a wildlife preserve, or even just shop.....but none of these things can be done when you are on a cruise ship. I am a Culture Vulture, and I was stuck in a Cultural Wasteland. I know that most people have fun doing the stuff they had planned for us on the boat, but I am just not normal. I am a big nerd. I enjoy learning stuff in my spare time. That's part of the reason I am a librarian! Because I'm a total dork! I read random articles on Wikipedia when I'm bored! *sigh of frustration*

This is why I spent the vast majority of my time eating and sleeping. With a little reading and tv watching thrown in. And I paid about $400 to do this. Yeah. So I'm pretty mad that I wasted all that money. I wish I could just have fun like normal people do. But bars, cigarettes and drunk people annoy me, as do large crowds of total strangers with misbehaving children (seriously, I know you are on vacation, Mom and Dad, but does this mean your children literally get to do everything they want???? Ugh! Supervise your kids or leave them at home!).

I guess the highlight of each day was dinner. That was the meal where the food tended to be the best. Dinner was fun, because we got to eat with our group and no one else. Roger and Grace are really nice and fun people, so they made dinner really great. But we often didn't see them at all except at dinner time. As the days wore on, CN and I tried to avoid Larva more and more, since he was bugging us so much.

When you eat a big dinner at 8:30pm, it's hard to stay awake unless you proceed to go get drunk right afterwards. And since CN had been drinking all day, up until dinner, he was ready to pass out every night after dinner -- he just can't drink for 14 hours, like Larva can. The bed was the only fun thing I had found on board, so CN didn't have to twist my arm to talk me into hitting the sack at 10pm most nights. Plus, this was the only time he and I could be alone.

I know I am being really negative, but it's not all bust. There were some really fun times. I will talk about those tomorrow.

Cruise News, Part 1

It's good to know that so many of my readers can relate to my vision problems! Wow, did I get a lot of sympathy on my last post! I did end up going back to the eye doctor before I left, and she put me in stronger contacts. Apparently, I am "in-between" lens strengths, and the weaker one isn't enough. Don't ask me why it wasn't enough when I left the first time, because I can't figure it out, either. I guess my eyes just don't fully adjust as quickly as they should. I can see pretty well with the new ones, so I'm going to just go with these.

I think the thing is, since I don't know what it's like to really be able to see perfectly, it is hard to gauge what is "perfect vision". I feel like I should be able to see China when I put my contacts in, so anything less seems too weak to me. But I did a check with CN on the way to Jacksonville. For the first hour of our trip, he had to listen to me asking: "Can you read that green sign yet? Or is it still fuzzy? What about that license plate in front of us? Can you read that?" -- I wanted to know if I was seeing what he was seeing. Since he has 20/20 vision, I figured that is a good test. We were seeing the same things at the same time, so I must be good.

I know you will be disappointed to hear this, but I don't have any cruise pictures yet. I will post some as soon as I can. We took a lot of them on CN's camera, so he has to learn how to upload them before I can share with you. For now, I will give you the first part of the trip.

CN and I had so much fun driving to/from Jacksonville together. We talked and laughed and teased each other. He has a Sirius radio, and I played dj on the trip, which was great for me, but not always great for him--he hates rap. He liked all my serenading, though. I had fun making him guess what song was playing. He knows an incredible amount of music trivia. So we had a blast on our way to meet up with everyone.

CN and I went on the cruise with two other couples: Larva & Sandra and Roger & Grace (yes, these names are totally made-up or nicknames). We had met Larva & Sandra before, as Larva and CN are old college buddies. We were meeting Roger & Grace for the first time.

CN and I met up with the two other couples about halfway between Columbia and Jacksonville, at a Burger King off the highway. The first thing they say to us is this: "Ok, before we head down to Jacksonville, we have to make a pit-stop in Savannah."

CN & I: "Um, ok. Why?"

Sandra: "Well, because Larva didn't get his birth certificate stamped with the official seal, so if we don't get it, they won't let him on the boat."

[Insert VB & CN irritation here.]

It turns out that Larva, who has had WEEKS to get his paperwork in order, thought that he could bullshit his way through security with just a photocopied birth certificate. He had even gone with Sandra to the health department just 2 days beforehand, when she went to get hers. "You're sure you don't need one?" she had asked. He told her "no".

When he announces this little tidbit of information that morning to Roger & Grace on the way to meet us, they told him he was an idiot and that his little plan would not work. CN and I agreed.

I still can't figure out why Sandra was not furious with Larva about this. "If you had pulled this stunt," I said to CN, "You would be dead meat right now. I would get on the boat without your ass."

"Trust me, I would never do something that stupid," he replied. "I practically gave myself a heart attack double checking all that stuff!"

So our plan was to take a detour to Savannah to hunt down a health department, pray they were open and cross our fingers that it would not take too long to get a proper birth certificate. Thank goodness Larva was born in Georgia, rather than somewhere far away, like Utah. After some exasperated sighs on my part, we all get into our cars and drive into Savannah.

CN and I begin to follow everyone through Savannah. We seemed to be going nowhere. When our motorcade did yet another u-turn, CN calls Larva to ask him what the hell is going on. It turns out that no one has a CLUE as to where the Health Department is in Savannah, and they were trying to find it through sheer luck.

More exasperated sighs on my behalf. This is not a good way to start a vacation.

Luckily, CN saved the day and found the Health Department with his GPS system. (Thank you, Garmin company.) A few minutes later, we were at the Health Department and were glad to see that there was no line or waiting period needed to get a proper birth certificate.

Fifteen minutes later, we are on our way to get on the boat. We are about 2 hours behind schedule, but it's no big deal. We still got on the boat in a short amount of time. Getting on the boat was very easy.

While we had been waiting on Larva at the Health Department, I told Sandra how I was worried about getting seasick. She told me to take a half a Dramamine the first day, and I should be fine for the rest of the trip. She's a nurse and an experienced cruiser, so that's what I did. Aside from the first night, when I was feeling a tiny bit woozy, I was totally fine for the rest of the trip. I was very relieved, because that was a big worry on my part.

CN and I got to our cabin. The bed was AMAZING -- seriously, y'all, it is a miracle I ever got out of that bed. It was big, soft and clean, and the thread count on the sheets must have been 500. The pillows were the perfect mix of squishy/firm. Our steward changed the sheets every day...ahhh. It was bliss.

Too bad I can't say the same thing for the bathroom. Now, I was on an old ship (built in 1987), so I knew not to get too excited about the bathroom. But the shower was totally gross: it was tiny, moldy, dark and felt "germy". It didn't have the most effective drain, either. I think it was the rubber mat on the floor of the shower that really bothered me. All I could think was, "Ew, athlete's foot!!!" So I took very quick showers. And I know I'm probably being a little harsh/germo-phobic, but I have a thing about bathrooms. I am picky.

We unpacked and freshened up and went up to the pool deck to meet everyone else for lunch.

All of my hopes about the kick-ass cruise food were quickly destroyed. The cafeteria on the pool deck smelled like a mixture of fried food, mold and body odor. It was so bad that I had to cover my nose every time I went in there. It literally made me nauseous. I grabbed a burger, some fries, some pasta salad and a couple other things. I did not eat a lot of food from this cafeteria again, instead opting for the dining rooms, which at least didn't make me want to barf. That smell was seriously unbearable.

This first meal was no different from all the other meals on this trip: average to bad. Half the food on the boat was totally disgusting, to the point that it was inedible. (Example: the caesar salad tasted like fish. Now, I know that caesar dressing has anchovy paste in it. But this tasted like it was 100% anchovy paste. Ew.). A lot of dishes were overcooked or flavorless. The rest was ok. I didn't eat any veggies the whole time I was on board, because everything from the salads to the steamed veggies were just awful. A lot of the seafood was overcooked and rubbery. The fruit was not ripe. The pizza was soggy and tasted funny. The escargot was cold. The mashed potatoes were stiff as a board. The desserts were average at best. The cakes, cookies and brownies were all dry and bland. The sandwiches, eggs and pancakes were so-so. The French toast was not very good. The cheesecake was gross. The only things that waere pretty good were the beef and the pancakes. So I ate beef almost every night for dinner, and pancakes for breakfast.

How do you mess up cheesecake and pizza???!! This completely blew my mind. CN agreed with me about all the food. Everyone else thought I was nuts as they chowed down. Maybe I am nuts. *shrugs*

I can't tell you about the chocolate buffet, because it was held at midnight that night, and I missed it. But I doubt I missed much, based on the forgettable desserts I had the rest of the time. By midnight most nights, I was enjoying the heavenly bed in my cabin. I'm not much of a night owl.

The only thing that really impressed me was the coffee -- it was perfect. Oh, and there was this chocolate lava cake that was really good, too. But that was it as far as food excitement was concerned.

Overall, the food was average/bad at best. I can cook better food myself. The food I get in restaurants here in Columbia beats anything they had on their ship hands down. So if you are going on a cruise, don't get excited about the food if you are used to yummy Southern cuisine.

The good news is, I only gained two pounds--and I think that was more from not exercising than anything else! :)

After we ate lunch, the ship left the dock. We all agreed that you can feel a lot of motion in such a small cruise ship. CN and I went to the front of the boat to watch the huge bridge go over us. It was pretty cool.

We hung out by the pool with the rest of our group after that. Everyone proceeded to start drinking heavily! We had a good time just people-watching, hanging out and dancing to the music played by a dj. I really liked Roger & Grace right away. They are super fun and friendly, plus, they are hilarious. After a bit, we went to our cabins to change into dinner attire.

Dinner was apparently forgettable, since I don't remember anything I ate. :P

After dinner, CN and I were pooped. We had been up since 6am, so we were exhausted. I think we went to bed by 9:30. I slept like a rock!

Ok, I will write more tomorrow!

Blind as a Batshit Crazy

Y'all know I have problems. I have problems that could fill a book. But I don't think that I have shared with you my eye problems. So here goes.

In my family, you either get the good eyes (Dad's side) or the good teeth (Mom's side). Well, I am blind as a bat. If I am not wearing glasses or contacts, I will literally walk into walls. Yes, it has happened before. That's how I can say that. If glasses or contacts did not exist, I would be legally blind, and probably fluent in Braille. Unless it is approximately 3 inches from my face, I cannot see diddly squat.

To make matters even more complicated, I have astigmatism in my left eye. The way I understand it, this means that my cornea has a little ripple in it, when it's supposed to be just a smooth dome shape. It takes a little more effort to find a contact that fits my left eye, because it has to line up with the astigmatism just right, or else everything will be blurry. (And in case you're wondering, this would also make LASIK eye surgery more challenging, too.)

I also have vision that is progressively getting worse as I age. (This eliminates me from the LASIK option entirely.) So I have to go to the eye doctor whenever I run out of disposable contacts, because by then, they aren't working for me, anyway. Oh, so much fun. $$$$$$$$$$ *sigh*

The icing on the cake is that I detest the eye exams. Unless you have less-than-perfect vision, you will not know what I'm talking about, but basically the doctor shines lights into your eyes that are so bright, your eyes water profusely, and you are convinced that you will burn your retinas away. Just thinking about it is making my eyes water as I type this. It is so uncomfortable, you clench your teeth and squirm in the chair. Then, they stick things in your eyes, blow air into your eyes without letting you blink and dilate your pupils (which makes your eyeballs feel all numb and weird)....ugh. To be honest, I'd rather go to the dentist. Eye exams SUCK.

When I went to my old eye doctor a couple years ago, I decided to spring for updated lenses in my glasses, too. That way, I would have the option of wearing glasses or contacts. The contacts came out great, but the glasses didn't. I could see okay up close, but I could not read the road signs when I was driving. I took the glasses back, and it turned out that one of the lenses was flawed, so they replaced it. I tried the glasses again. They were not much better. I took the glasses back a second time. I passed the little eye test, and the doctor declared that my glasses were fine. But I still could not read the road signs. The eye chart you have to read to prove you can see 20/20 is easy -- it's maybe 7 feet away from you. But when you're driving, you need to see road signs sooner than 7 feet away! I didn't take the glasses back a third time, because I would look like I was a crazy person. So I have not been wearing my glasses for the past few years.

I was so frustrated, I never went back. I have "updated" lenses in my glasses that don't even work. And they cost $100. Whatever.

So this time, I picked a new eye doctor. When I went in yesterday, it all seemed to be going well. She recommended a different solution to clean my contacts with, and I like it a LOT better. She is concerned with how bloodshot my eyes are all the time. I told her I sit in front of a computer all day, so that's probably why they are like that. (None of my other eye doctors have ever been concerned with this, so she scored some points with me for trying to solve my red eye problem).

Then we got to the eye exam part, where the doctor figures out the strength you need in your contacts/glasses. This involves her putting different lenses in front of your eyes and asking you which lens works better for you. She was no different than any other eye doctor I've ever had: she rushed through it, expecting my eyes to adjust to different lenses in the blink of an eye. (Sorry, that was a bad pun!) Well, my eyes must be stupidly slow, because I had to keep asking her to show me the choices a second or even a third time. And the differences between the lenses were so minor, it was hard to tell which ones worked better. I did my best, and she put some new contacts in my eyes. She said this was my new prescription, and they seemed ok as I blinked and looked around.

I instantly noticed how comfortable they are -- much more comfortable than my old brand. And I could see just fine in her office, so I went ahead and told her everything was great.

"Ok, wear these a few days, see how you like them. If we don't hear from you, we are going to order your new contacts on the 12th so you can pick them up after your vacation. Sound good?" the doctor explained.

I nodded and thanked her. Then I paid for my exam and left.

On the way home, I kept "testing" my new contacts by seeing how clear the road signs were. How soon could I read them? How clear were they? Was it better than my old prescription? Or were the signs fuzzy? And my new contacts seemed ok. Not great, but adequate. I thought, "Hmm. This is funny. Usually I can tell there's a huge difference when I have a new, stronger prescription in my contacts. Everything is crystal clear. These are...about the same as my last prescription." But I didn't worry about it too much, because they were so comfortable and I figured my eyes needed to recuperate after my eye exam, full of crazy bright lights. I decided to see how they were today before I made up my mind.

I put my contacts in this morning -- they feel FANTASTIC. Between the different brand of contact solution and the new brand of contacts, my eyes feel great. They are still red, but they feel fine.

But I can't see shit. Anything 6 feet away from me is blurry. I was in a meeting this morning, and I couldn't read a single word on the presenter's screen at the front of the conference room. That is just not right. Not to mention unacceptable. I could see MUCH better with my old contacts -- the prescription that is 2 years old.

These new contacts aren't even as strong as my last prescription, when they are supposed to be stronger!! AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGH.

I'm starting to think that maybe I have an eye disorder. Or that I am just plain crazy. How can they work fine in the doctor's office, but not when I'm driving??? That makes no sense. Especially when I could see ok yesterday, but today, it's abysmal. It is noticeably worse. Same contacts, same eyeballs, same road signs. But I can't see shit. I am losing my mind. I have now had the same problem with two different doctors! What the heck is wrong with me??

I thought maybe it was just one contact that was wrong, so I covered up one eye. Then I covered up the other eye. Nope. Both eyes are equally blurry. Both contacts are bad.

"Do you have the contacts in backwards? Maybe you put your right contact into your left eye," my coworkers have been suggesting.

This is impossible, I explained to them. Putting a regular contact into an eye with astigmatism is massively painful. I would know instantly if that were the case. I honestly don't know what the heck is wrong.

I went ahead and made a last-minute appointment for 2:30 this afternoon. I am worried that when I sit in her little chair, and read her little eye chart, I will pass the 20/20 vision test, in her professional opinion. But I KNOW I won't be able to see anything out side of those four walls!! I really want to get to the bottom of this. Not being able to see is such a pain, especially when you're shelling out so much money!

I am frustrated. I am blind. Hopefully, I'm not crazy, too. Wish me luck.

Happy Overwhelmed Birthday!!

My birthday isn't until tomorrow, and I am feeling extremely overwhelmed. I have been for quite some time. I feel like I'm in the deep end and I'm drowning. I need a life preserver. I can handle it all, I just wish the ride would slow down a little bit, you know? I really need to catch up. Or a 28-hour day.

Between the dieting, exercising and budgeting (or, as I like to call it, "Fiscal Responsibility Awareness") alone, I have plenty to do. It's a shame I'm not getting paid to be at the gym, because I friggin live there. (The cool thing is, I am starting to see some changes in my body and my physical stamina! YAY!!!)

Add to that a normal list of errands I have to run and bills I have to pay. To make it really interesting, I changed insurance companies this week, so I have to cancel the old one, send the check for the new one...and something else I'm forgetting. (The upside? I saved about $300 on my car insurance! WOOT!!!) Going to the gym all the times means I have to do twice the laundry, too. I need to go to the bank....crap. Who knows what else I'm not even remembering!

Oh yeah! I should mail my Valentine's Day cards out. (Yes, you read that correctly. They are 2 weeks late.) [Insert guilt here.]

I need to buy a birthday present for KT. Preferably before her birthday.

Thanks to all the exercise, I need about 9 hours of sleep to feel rested now. This only cramps my schedule even further.

Also, when the termite guy came the other day, he found some 2x4s under my front porch that were supposed to be removed when they built my house. Until my builder comes to remove them, not only am I vulnerable to termite infestation, my termite bond is invalid. Commence nagging of builder. (Argh.)

And the fact that my house is filthy and I haven't spent any time with my dog in 2 weeks. [Insert guilt here.]

And the fact that a big project at work is due this week, and I have hardly any time to finish it. (And yes, I will confess, there MAY have been some procrastinating going on, which MAY have something to do with it!) [Insert more guilt here.]

And the fact that I was just notified first thing this morning that I am in charge of coordinating one of the biggest projects of the decade (literally) here at work. I will oversee the work of about 20 people. And I have no earthly idea how this project works, let alone how to oversee everything. Did I mention this was a nice big surprise at a crowded 8am meeting this morning? Yeah. No heads up on my massive new responsibility. But it certainly woke me up!

And the fact that I charged $934.26 to my American Express yesterday, which is great for my rewards points, but terrifying to think about for too long. (The cruise is official -- CN and I booked it yesterday!!!)

And I just realized that fat free vanilla yogurt mixed with chocolate protein powder only sounds good in theory.

So is it any wonder that when my friends all ask me, "So what do you want to do for your birthday???? Aren't you excited??!! It's tomorrow!! Let's go out! What do you want to do? Where do you want to eat? When do you want me to pick you up? What do you want me to get you for your birthday??? Huh? Huh?"

...all I want to reply is, "I want to sit on my couch and watch all the stuff I've taped over the past 2 weeks. Can you bring me some food, and then leave? Because I want to be alone, in my jammies and go to bed at 8:30. Or better yet, can we celebrate my birthday next month? I think I can pencil you in around....oh, March 22nd....and how do you feel about planning the whole thing, to the point where all I have to do is show up?"

I feel like saying, "Hi, Mr. Carnie. Can you stop the ride? I'd like to get off before I barf. Thanks."

Oh well. At least I'm not bored, right?

Conflict of Interest

These past few weeks have been a blur. I feel like all I have done is worked out and stressed out. The other day, CN said that maybe we should not go on the cruise at all, because it is stressing me out so much.

Maybe he's right. I have been so frustrated lately, and it's causing me a ton of stress. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to get all gung-ho about my New Year's Resolutions at the same time. Perhaps I should have tried to work on my budget OR my waistline -- not both. I am still interested in meeting my goals, but I find myself in constant conflict with reaching them.

You'd think these two goals would go hand-in-hand: eating at home usually means fewer calories and more money in the bank. Going for a run on a Saturday afternoon burns calories AND keeps you away from the mall. So yeah, in some situations, these two goals can play off of one another.

At other times, they are in direct conflict. Some examples...

What do you do when someone's parents (CN's, in particular) take you out to eat........and the menu consists of scarcely anything besides fried items? You can't say, "No thanks" or "Can we go somewhere else?" -- you HAVE to eat, because they invited you and they are paying. So I tried to order something that sounded healthy-- grilled shrimp with steamed veggies. When my food arrived, I found that "grilled" meant "drenched in oily sauce" and "steamed veggies" meant "butter-drenched veggies".

So I had a choice to make: eat on someone else's tab, which is good for my budget........or totally blow all my hard work at the gym that morning by eating this pool of oily shrimp and limp veggies.

I almost cried, you guys. It totally ruined my whole meal -- I picked at it, hardly eating anything. And I felt guilty, since they had invited me to eat with them and they were paying. I hate to waste food. Then I got home, and I was still hungry! Aaaarrrgh.

Budget: 1
Waistline: 0

Then, last night, I went to the gym to meet up with my new trainer. I had originally had a guy I will call "Biff". I don't like Biff. He doesn't listen, he won't give me straight answers to my questions, he flirts with the front desk girls when he's supposed to be working with me, he won't give me clear directions, and he contradicts himself. In short, he leaves me confused and frustrated, not to mention ticked off. So, when he told me last week that he was not my official trainer, and only my introductory trainer, I was relieved.

"Good," I thought. "Maybe now I can have a trainer who is actually worth the $40 an hour I'm shelling out, because you are pretty much worthless!"

Last night, I met my "official" trainer. I will call him Tee. I liked him immediately. He listened, gave clear instructions and one of the front desk girls told me he's a really good trainer. He told me that Biff put me with him because he gets results and I am a "highly motivated" client. This was all music to my ears.

Until he told me that he'd have me out of there in a half an hour.

Um....exsqueeze me?

Thanks to Biff's smooth talking, I didn't realize that I was signing up for two $40 half hour sessions per month, not two hourly sessions, as I had previously thought. Crap. I envisioned my bank account dwindling rapidly, like sand in an hourglass. I could feel my stomach cramping up, and not because of Tee's crunches.

So now, it seems that I have chosen my waistline over my budget, in this situation. Arggggh. Score tally:

Budget: 1
Waistline: 1

Then, I decided to play around with Turbo Tax, just to see what kind of a tax refund I could expect. Turbo Tax said "$987". Hmmmm. I was kind of hoping for at least $1,100. So instead of paying about $40 for Turbo Tax, I am going to go ahead and spring for H&R Block, which will charge me about $130. Am I possibly shooting myself in the foot? Yes. But do I trust myself to maximize my own deductions, even if it is with Turbo Tax's assistance? Um, no. Not with my abysmal understanding of money. I may not get more money back at the hands of H&R Block, but at least I know I'm preparing my taxes properly.

In order to have time to make the trip to H&R Block, I will more than likely have to skip a gym trip. Arrgh.

Tomorrow, the termite guy is coming to my house to do the annual termite bond. That will cost $150. And a trip to the gym -- he's like the cable guy, I have to be there all morning, hoping he will show up between 8-11am. So much for my 10am weight lifting class.

And Friday after work, I am getting the dead rat on top of my head tended to by my hairdresser. That will be an additional $150, and the gym will be closed by the time I'm done. (In my defense, I haven't had my hair done since before Thanksgiving, and if I don't do something quickly, I will soon look like one of those trailer-trash girls on COPS).

I got on the scale again yesterday. I have lost........maybe 2 pounds. I swear to all things holy, I am going to chuck that thing through my window before this is all over. I did get my body fat percentage re-calculated last night, and it showed that I have lost 0.2% body fat. Not awesome, but a small step in the right direction. My pants seem to be fitting a teeny tiny bit better, but it might just be my imagination.

My birthday is in one week (mark your calendars now -- ha!), and I can't think of anything fun to do that doesn't involve spending money or eating yummy fattening food. What I really want to do is shop all day in the outlet mall near Charlotte, and then hit The Cheesecake Factory for dinner on the way home. But that can't happen, because it will totally mess up everything I've been working for these past few weeks. Does anyone have a good idea for something that is fun and cheap and doesn't involve cake???

I'm starting to feel like I will never lose weight or get a grip on my spending. I know I'm an impatient person, but someone's gotta throw me a bone! I'm getting very discouraged. All this frustration and pressure I've put on myself is really causing me to stress out. I have the cruise looming over my head, and all I think about all day long is, "How will I pay for the cruise? I'm going to need at least $700. Where will I find the money for that when I was going to use my tax refund towards my credit card debt??? How will I look on the boat, standing next to the skinny girl going with us? I am going to eat too much food and I will be the fat girl in all the photos. How can I lose 10 pounds by then when I haven't even started losing yet???" -- It is looped in my brain, all day long. This is in addition to all the regular money stress and weight issues I was already having before this whole cruise idea came about. I can feel the anxiety building up inside me. I have had 2 emotional meltdowns in as many weeks, and I'm wondering if any of this is even worth it. Maybe CN is right. Maybe I should not go on the cruise because it is just too much right now.

Then again, maybe I should just shut up, get a Rx for Xanax, put my nose to the grindstone and quit whining. And cut myself some slack.

I know that's what I need to do. I just had to get all of this off my chest. I just needed to vent. Thanks for reading this and allowing me to do so. :)

Ugh. I have a headache now.

Thursday 13

Thirteen Diet Thoughts

1. This f**king blows. I want cake. Any cake. A big piece, with lots of chocolate frosting. And then I want a whole bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos. And I want it all inside my body as soon as possible.

2. I have to diet, or else I will continue to blimp up like a whale, and then I really will be fat enough to be on Biggest Loser. And then I won't be able to take it off, and I will die an early, weight-related death. Which would really suck. So this has to be a permanent lifestyle change, like quitting drinking or quitting smoking. But unfortunately, unlike cigarettes or alcohol, it is impossible to quit eating entirely. Which is why I think this is so hard for me. I am really good at quitting stuff. Not so good at cutting back. Cutting back is a slippery slope to me. My brain doesn't compute that concept.

3. It is a miracle that the package of Oreos I bought on Sunday remain sitting on my kitchen counter, unopened. Oreos are on my list of "Foods I Would Possibly Cut Off a Pinky Toe For". (I am making an Oreo-crust cheesecake this weekend for a dinner party, and then promptly donating all leftover Oreos to someone who can enjoy them without crying as they eat them.)

4. For some reason, this time around, the exercising part is fun and not so bad, but the dieting part is making me cranky and bitchy. And I'm really REALLY hating it. I feel punished, I feel deprived, I feel resentful and I am hungry. Every other time I have tried to get in shape, the dieting part hasn't been so bad. But this time is different for some reason.

5. Then again, it could be my hormones...they are also being blamed for #1. I read somewhere once that when a woman is having her "time", her body burns an extra 100 calories per day. This statement was obviously written by a man, because any woman of menstruating age knows that it's more like an extra 90,000 calories per day. Seriously, y'all, I could clean out my fridge in one sitting right now. And my pantry. And then hit Taco Bell. I hope this aching hunger goes away next week. I am starting to have a deep suspicion that I am possibly addicted to sugar and melted cheese. And it kind of scares me.

6. I am currently keeping my hands occupied with typing this blog post in order to stop myself from grabbing a spoon and a jar of peanut butter. I just knocked on wood that I will soon grow too sleepy to have enough energy to eat. Sometimes, this works. Thank God I am not a night owl.

7. This would be a good post for my readers to leave comments like, "You can do it!" and "You are Willpower Queen! Don't undo all your hard work in one moment of weakness!!" and "Take it one day at a time!"

8. This would be a bad post for my readers to leave comments like, "You are SO not fat, VB! You are incredibly thin, actually! Go eat those Oreos!" or "CN will like you no matter how fat you get! Who cares?"

9. I have lost a whopping 1 pound since January 1st.

10. Which is why I am now treating myself like a child and literally writing down everything that goes in my mouth. I figure, if I'm going to act like a child, I will treat myself like a child. I have this little notebook where I write it all down. The pages are all wrinkled from the tears I cry as I list everything. Ok, not really. But it paints a sympathetic picture, right?

11. This means that months from now, I can tell you what I had for lunch on March 2nd. Which seems vaguely scary to me....

12. The anonymous blog comment I received on my cooking blog telling me that I am "still fat" didn't help my self-esteem much. And he's fucking stupid if he thinks I can't figure out who it is.

13. But it did motivate me. And now, I am one hard-working fat girl, with a determined, little, skinny bitch inside, clawing her way out.

Babies R (Not) Us

Like many young women, I want to have kids one day. I'm thinking at least 3, maybe as many as 5. (Hey, I come from a big family, so this is normal to me.) And although I am absolutely positive I want to be a mother before I die, and I have a couple of names picked out, that is about as far as I'd taken this thought.

Until this weekend.

Don't freak out -- I'm not having a baby! *knocks on wood to be sure*

But lately, I can't seem to escape the thought of babies, and it's starting to wig me out. Let's make a list, shall we? Yes, let's. Because VB's heart rate is rapidly accelerating, and lists make her feel more in control of her world. Here we go.

1. I had a dream two nights ago that I was talking with an old friend about what it's like to be pregnant. We poked at her belly and discussed her due date. I think that in the dream, I was trying to get pregnant. Whoa.

2. Last week, CN and I were sitting on the couch watching Biggest Loser. I mentioned how it would be so easy to lose weight if you had kids, because you'd feel like you'd have a really good reason -- something to motivate you to live into old age. He replied, "Yeah, but you'll have kids one day. You should start being healthier now." (He's right, as usual.) He was visibly surprised to hear my answer: "No. I don't know if I'm going to have kids. It may not be in the cards for me." And I shrugged, because I am not one to count my chickens (or children?) before they hatch. And then I changed the subject, because the conversation was getting a little to "real" for me. I'm not ready to talk about that with CN yet. Heck, I'm not ready to talk to anyone about that!

2. CN and I were invited to a baby shower this past weekend. So we had to go pick out a present at Babies R Us, which, if you've never been, is like Wal-Mart, only it's filled with pregnancy/baby/toddler stuff. And it's FULL of women who look like this:

Now, I don't know if any of you have ever been in a giant room full of women who look like their water is about to break, unless you are an OB/GYN, but it is terrifying!!! I wanted to run up to each soon-to-be mom and play traffic cop: "Everyone! Now just back up! I need you to keep at least 10 feet back! She's gonna blow any minute!!!" I'm not kidding -- some of those women HAD to be at almost ten months of pregnancy. My fear of accidentally bumping into them and causing their water to break left me temporarily paralyzed. I didn't move an inch.

I looked around some more. There were approximately 7.3 billion baby items to purchase for your baby and/or your pregnancy. Now, unlike some women, my Baby Experience Resume is pretty extensive -- tons of babysitting, the oldest of 5 kids, lover of all things small and cute, oozing with maternal instinct, and a Master's degree in diaper changing.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could prepare me for the Baby Bonanza that is Babies R Us.

There were these strap-things, which hold your big pregnant belly up. Like a giant seatbelt or something. I don't know. There were covers for your nipples. I don't know why nipples need covers, and I'm wondering if it's because they don't make bras big enough for pregnancy-sized boobs-- a terrifying thought. And I have never seen so many thermometer options in my life. Did you know that pacifiers come in sizes? Yeah. Neither did I.

Between the pregnant women, the bizarre baby items for sale, and the umpteen newborns in the building, my head began to spin. I looked over at CN. He was white as a sheet, and also seemingly cemented to the floor.

"Oh. My. God. There are pregnant women everywhere...." I trailed off, speechless with fear.

"Yeah. And babies," whispered CN.

"This is totally freaking me out. Let's get the hell outta here ASAP!" I said.

We printed off the registry, grabbed the closest thing in our price range (which happened to be a Breast Friend, a product I was actually familiar with) and practically ran to the register. On the way to the register, I explained to CN what a Breast Friend does, and he proceeded to make jokes about how he wants one so he can be my breast friend. Har. Har.

3. On the way to the baby shower, I realized that never in the History of Baby Showers has there only been one baby or one pregnant woman. There were going to be more. And I was right. CN and I walked into a nest of new mothers and fathers, all discussing their new babies and baby products and baby philosophies and organic baby food and....well, you get the picture. There were two babies in addition to the one being celebrated. There were baby-themed cakes, decorations and party favors. Everyone was coupled up, either engaged or already married. It felt like everyone was expected to either have a baby or want to have a baby before even walking through the front door. Like it was a requirement to attend.

It was so overwhelming, I completely forgot that I had a boyfriend. My inner Single Girl said, "Shit! I hate parties like this! I'm single and I can hear my biological clock ticking now more than ever! Why do they never invite more than one single girl to parties like this?? Don't they realize it's torture? Oh. Wait. I am here with someone...Right. Ok." And then I spent the rest of the party trying to see if there were any single girls there, so that I could introduce myself and comfort them. Old habits never die, I guess. Or perhaps I just don't see CN and I as a couple couple yet. Because we haven't been dating long enough to discuss the possibility of making a little VB or CN yet. Does that make sense? I dunno. It felt too soon for us to be in that room with all those.....baby people.

Consequently, I kept to myself and stuffed 3 chocolate-covered strawberries, 4 ounces of dip/chips, one brownie and 17 petit-fours down my gob.

PMS hormones + too many babies + weird baby items + freakishly swollen bellies + a party where I know no one = Time to eat.

Ugh. I am getting a headache just typing this.

Anyway, our gift was a hit, and many "Breast Friend" jokes ensued.

4. After the party, CN and I had hoped to return to the Land of the Childless by attending W's birthday get-together. No such luck. My friend Y was there, and she is about 6 months pregnant with her first child. And a couple was there with their 3 month-old little girl. She was adorable. And they let me hold her. And she was so little! And she had that powdery baby smell! And she stuck out her bottom lip when she cried! And we all cooed over her adorableness.

CN was watching me do all of this. I cooed to him about the cute baby. He said it was impossible to escape babies that day. I nodded and continued to coo.

"You don't want one, do you?" he asked, terrified.

"Oh my God, NO!" I shouted. CN had jolted me back to reality.

And that's when I realized that I really like the idea of having a baby and being a mother. Possibly even with CN. But the whole pregnancy and labor thing totally freaks me out, and I am nowhere close to being ready to have one any time soon!!!

I wish the stork story was true. Because that is the kind of pregnancy/labor I want! Just thinking about how scary labor must be and how pregnancy totally f**ks up your body makes me feel like I'm going to faint. Why can't a nice little bird just drop if off on your doorstep? This is much more logical to me. It also sounds cheaper, safer, faster and cleaner. Scientists should look into this and see if this is indeed a viable option.

I explained all of this to CN and told him that I can't wait to be a mom, because once the baby has arrived, I think I would like it, because I know what to do. It's the whole pregnancy/swollen belly/scary labor stuff that bothers me.

He totally disagreed, saying that the baby's arrival is when all of his fears would start!

I guess it's good to know that we are on the same page about all of this stuff. Kinda.

Not Myself Today

CN and I were watching "Biggest Loser" last night. And he has definitely gotten me hooked on it. The good news is, watching it makes me want to go to the gym and work out to the point of passing out. The trainers are very motivational like that. The bad news is, although everyone on that show weighs more than I do, I feel like a total heifer when I watch it. I think it's because I can relate so much to the contestants' shame and disappointment with themselves and their eating choices. Exercise seems positive to me, whereas calorie restriction feels negative.

Sometime, during the show, I got a visit from the PMS Fairy. Or should I say....Demon.

Earlier in the evening, I tried to give CN a heads up. "Sweetie," I said. "Just so you know, it's my time. And I can tell already that I'm going to be really weepy, because I cried at a TV commercial today. So just keep that in mind for about the next week-- I may be acting kind of weird."

"Ok," he said, slightly shrugging.

Gotta love hindsight.

It should have gone like this:

VB: "For the next week, my brain and body will be taken over by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon. I advise you to stay in a hotel and make no contact with me until then."

CN: "Right. I'm out." *runs away as fast as he can*

I hate stupid hormones. Because for the next few days, Normal, Happy and Rational VB is abducted and tied to a chair in a basement somewhere. Her mouth is covered with duct tape. She is ignored, threatened and/or abused by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon, who has managed to not only succeed with a hostile takeover, but is now Supreme Evil Dictator over my mind and body. She will not stop her rampage until everyone who encounters me this week is convinced that I have totally lost my mind.

And this month, she's being extra cruel and obnoxious. She has actually grown black horns, acquired an evil laugh and her eyes are now seeping blood. Imagine the devil from Rosemary's Baby, only in female form. I don't know what the hell I ate this month (I would like to blame all the salad and veggies, of course), but for some reason, the little gland in my body which controls my moods has set the dial all the way to the right, which reads "Bat Shit Crazy". It's that part of the dial where it's in the "red zone". And there is a little warning light which has turned on. It's blinking with a terrifying urgency. I encourage you to lock up your children.

Right now, if you were to glare at me, or even just stare at me, I would probably burst into tears. Then, 45 Kleenex later, after calming down, I would rip your throat out with my bare hands and stomp on your bloody body--while screaming-- until it is mashed into something resembling roadkill. And then I would start crying again.

Needless to say, I am not myself today. It feels eerily similar to what I imagine an out-of-body experience must be like. It's like I'm sitting in the driver's seat, but someone else is driving.

Based on this description, you would stay far, far away from me. And this would be a wise decision.

Unfortunately for CN, he was sitting on the couch, watching TV with me when all of this went down in the Hormones Department.

I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that Evil Psycho Hormone Demon (EPHD) would not shut up about how fat I feel, which led CN to try and comfort and reassure me in a way that totally backfired right in his face, because no matter what he said or did, EPHD took his words and actions, twisted them into something completely different, and told me that CN was saying this:

"I don't like you anymore and I don't care about you."

You see? Do you see how evil and manipulative she is??? She is evil, I am telling you.

So that is how I went through half a box of Kleenex last night. That is why I had nightmares and woke up at 5:15 this morning. That is also why I just finished writing CN a very long, apologetic and explanatory email about how I am insane until further notice.

This sounds terrible, doesn't it? You are thinking, "Oh man, she needs to do some serious damage control." or, if you are a man, "Women are bat shit crazy."

But you are reading this entirely out of context. Let me explain. You see, as much of a wack job as I am right now, I am still totally golden.

By coincidence, CN recently told me a little bit more about his ex-girlfriend. I will call her Psycho Emily, because that is her name. (Tee hee.) When they were dating, CN had to take a business trip to Vermont for about a month. It was during the winter, and he was really enjoying the snow, so he invited her to come up and hang out one weekend.

They were standing in the kitchen of his hotel suite, talking. She was chopping veggies for dinner on a cutting board. That's when it happened: she proposed. Emily proposed marriage to CN. Because he is wise beyond his years, he thought to himself, "This girl has psycho tendencies. Perhaps getting married is not a good idea right now." But, because he is a man, and therefore, totally ignorant when it comes to female hormones, he made the unfortunate reply of:

"No."

Now, I couldn't possibly be sure about how Psycho Emily's EPHD interpreted his answer, but I bet it went something like this: "I do not care about you and I do not like you. I have been using you for sex this whole time, and you are an idiot if you thought that I ever gave a rat's ass about you. You are fat, ugly, crazy and stupid and I'd rather die poor, sick and alone than spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary for me to get my rocks off."

Keep in mind that during the delivery of this interpretation, Psycho Emily is wielding a large kitchen knife.

So she did what any woman under the powers of her EPHD would do in that situation: She tried to stab him.

He managed to avoid the attack and get the knife away from her. That's when she ran outside. Into the snow. Barefoot. In nothing but her bra and a pair of jeans.

Where she proceeded to climb a tree and refused to come back down.

Surprisingly, they continued dating for a while after this whole fiasco.

So, my little meltdown last night? Not a big deal. CN has experienced The Mother of All Evil Psycho Hormone Demons, and lived to tell the tale. By now, he is a battle-worn veteran.

"I am a terrible girlfriend! I jumped to conclusions and expected you to read my mind!" I sobbed last night.

"Oh my God, no you're not! You're the best girlfriend I've ever had!" he said.

"I am?" I sniffed, voice quivering.

"Yeah. You don't even pull knives on me." he replied.