Now, now, don't get excited. This post has nothing to do with anyone's V Card. I know I am not the only perverted person out there, so I figured I'd establish that right off the bat.
I figured I'd summarize my first month or so of living in Richmond. It's kind of a surreal experience, moving back to a town you haven't lived in since you were 12. My hometown is only an hour and a half away from Richmond, so I've visited many many times since then, but as a visitor, I have never actually driven in Richmond. So although the street names are familiar, navigating them is something else. But that's the fun part. What I forgot about were the toll highways. You don't really see them down south. And people don't let you in when you need to change lanes. Guess I'm not deep in Southern Hospitality anymore. Although I will say that men here do open doors for ladies, something I've always appreciated. A guy actually apologized to me the other day for not getting the door for me. *sigh* Southern Gentlemen are the best.
So far, overall, I love Richmond. It's bigger, so there are more shopping, cultural, recreational and dating opportunities. Hooray for that. Richmond is also a pretty classy town, I have to say. Savannah and even Columbia were both a little raggedy, with litter everywhere, poorly maintained streets and just a general air of poverty and sadness. Richmond is clean and neat and well-maintained, from what I have seen so far. Gone are the hipsters of Savannah and the Good Ol' Boys of Columbia. People here seem to be more genteel, as cheesy as that sounds. Now, don't get me wrong. Some of my best friends are hipsters and Good Ol' Boys. But I will never really be part of either of those groups. I just feel like I fit in here better. People here are less pretentious than hipsters and more cultured than Good Ol' Boys. It's a good balance, in my opinion.
The city has a lot going for it, and I can't wait to explore everything it has to offer. There's all kinds of parks and activities on the James River, which cuts right through town. There's a neat old part of town called Shockoe Slip, full of bars and restaurants and shops. I live near Carytown, which is a great boutique/cafe area of town. The state capital and all the state agencies are here, as well as a major university (VCU). One of the things I always liked about Columbia was that due to the state government and the major university being there, it always made the city full of life and activity. It's the same here. There are several museums and tons of historical things here, like the church where Patrick Henry gave his "Give Me Liberty" speech -- pretty cool! There's lots of Colonial America and Civil War history around here. Today I am going to visit the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. One of my friends from Savannah is doing a reading there today, so I told her I'd stop by and see her.
It's a good thing my family is so close by, because otherwise, I'd be super lonely. I don't really work with anyone who's in my demographic, unlike my job in Savannah. And I haven't met too many of my neighbors yet -- it's not fun to strike up conversations when it's 30 degrees outside. So I spend most of my time alone. I know it's only temporary, and I have ideas for how to meet people, but it still stinks for the time being! I guess I had it easy in Savannah -- there were tons of young professionals to hang out with. It's just going to take time. I'm going to join the gym and also this organization (looks like so much fun, but they don't really do much until March). I also need to find a church (I've been church-shopping with no luck so far). There's also a roller derby team here, but I would have to psych myself up for that. It looks like fun, and a great way to meet girlfriends, but I am such a wuss when it comes to pain and haven't been on rollerskates since I was about 10.
Speaking of being 10 years old, on Monday, I am going to have lunch with my best friend from 4th grade. How's that for crazy? She and I have been facebook friends for a while, but I don't think I've seen her since then. She now lives in Richmond, too, so I suggested we meet up.
Next weekend, The Czarina is getting married, so she's all in a tizzy. It should be fun, though. If there's one thing my mom is good at, it's throwing parties. I'll see pretty much every friend of my family. (Is it a sign that I'm getting older when I say that I like hanging out with my parents' friends as much as I like hanging out with my own?) I'm really happy for my mom. And my stepdad is great.
I absolutely love my new place. It's like it was designed to hold my stuff -- everything fits perfectly. As soon as I get most of the decorating done, I will share pics. The only thing I wish it had was a fireplace. Then it would be perfect.
It's totally freezing here, and my wardrobe is not equipped for it. I've been hunting for sweaters like a fiend. From what I've been told, I won't be able to get out my flip-flops until April. Aw, man!
I'll blog more about my new job and my dating life soon. Thanks, as always, for reading! Please leave comments so I can feel connected to human beings and not continue to have full conversations with my dog! I am so lonely!
Showing posts with label general whining. Show all posts
Showing posts with label general whining. Show all posts
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Getting You--and Me--Up to Date
I know I am supposed to be writing more about Hong Kong. And I will. But today, I really need to blog about more current stuff.
Gosh, I went to Hong Kong 3 months ago. It's a good thing I took photos, because one day, my kids will hate me for never recording anything about my travels. I am so bad about that kind of stuff. If you are friends w/me on the Book of Face (aka Facebook), you can see all my Hong Kong photos there. Otherwise, just sit on your hands and try to be patient. When the mood strikes, I will talk about it.
We all know I have been a very absent blogger over the last year or so. Part of that was because of my hectic job and my exhaustion at the end of the day. Looking back on it now, it was also because I have been in a very bad place ever since I broke things off with Ex-F. Although I had come to terms with my decision, and have no regrets, I found myself unable and unwilling to bounce back from it. It affected me much more deeply than I first realized, and I didn't have much of a support network to help me work through it. The Ex-F was my support network, and let's face it-- that just wouldn't be healthy. The Czarina only felt relief and doesn't see much point in talking about things from the past. MJ is too far away and even she admits she never answers her phone. My friends here are nice enough, but not so close that I can have heart-to-hearts with them.
I am rapidly burning out at my job. I do not like living in Savannah. I have put on a little more weight (not a lot, but enough that I can't wear the pants I wore last year) and I have become a total hermit. Aside from one or two things I have going on, I spend the vast majority of my free time watching tv on my couch, alone with my dog, eating junk food. (Part of this is also due to my recent obsession with current events, so I am learning a lot -- it's not a total waste! But that is for another post.) To make a long story short, I have not been myself lately. I have been a sad shell of my formerly vibrant self. My recent lifestyle is nothing I would wish on anyone and is certainly no way for a young woman to live. I am supposed to be happy and have all these friends and be running around doing stuff. Over the last year, I have been more lonely, more hopeless and more sad than I have ever been in my whole life. But no one (except my mom and MJ) knows. But even they don't know how bad it is. I have been pretty low. Like, scary low.
That's why I haven't blogged about any of it. It would just be a giant pity party. No one wants to read Debbie Downer's blog.
I suppose a shrink would say that I am intentionally shielding myself from any chance that I will ever date again, as a way to punish myself for having broken someone's heart. Or that I am so afraid of failing and ending up alone that I would just rather not even try. At least then, if I die alone, it won't be because I effed up, but because the universe didn't come through for me. (What, you didn't know the universe is supposed to be finding me a new boyfriend? Yeah, do you see how wacked out I am on self-pity??) A physician would probably tell me to exercise and eat right, so that I would feel better, gain more self-confidence and improve my mood. The Czarina just tells me all my problems are because of my weight and if I would just lose weight all my problems would magically disappear. They are probably right. Well, I think The Czarina's logic is a little off, but she means well. She's not the most sympathetic person in the world, let's face it.
It's not like I've never been through a bad breakup before. Or been lonely. Or overweight. Or suffered from bouts of insecurity. But I've always bounced right back before. For some reason, this time it was different. I have no motivation to change, even though I am not happy where I am now. This bummed-out period has been longer. Much longer.
I don't think I am clinically depressed, but I have been hovering around it and wallowing in self-pity for over a year now. Maybe I am undiagnosed. "I have a great apartment and a great job, and that's enough," I have been lying to myself. I feel like I've been on the Negativity-go-Round for a year, and I'd like to get off. It's starting to make me wanna barf.
See how fun this is? Wheeee! I know you are so glad you stopped by.
But the good news is, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I think that all my praying is starting to pay off. I think I am slowly coming out of it. I have been taking long walks with Sammy, and they help to put me in a slightly better mood. I am going to try and do more fun things not involving my couch. I just found a new church to go to, so that is also a good thing. After tiring of my coworkers nagging me, I put up a profile on OK Cupid (an online dating site) -- and let me tell you, I am so NOT into it. I haven't even replied to any of the emails. I am going to attend/try/go to anything that sounds interesting or fun. Even if it costs money (one of my favorite excuses to sit on my couch!). I am going to try and meet more people. I am looking forward to having news to share with someone when they call me and want to know what's new.
I am not going out this way. This has gone on long enough.
Ok, stay tuned for more optimistic (and funnier!) posts. Maybe more frequent, too. No more Debbie Downer. She's had enough space in my brain.
Gosh, I went to Hong Kong 3 months ago. It's a good thing I took photos, because one day, my kids will hate me for never recording anything about my travels. I am so bad about that kind of stuff. If you are friends w/me on the Book of Face (aka Facebook), you can see all my Hong Kong photos there. Otherwise, just sit on your hands and try to be patient. When the mood strikes, I will talk about it.
We all know I have been a very absent blogger over the last year or so. Part of that was because of my hectic job and my exhaustion at the end of the day. Looking back on it now, it was also because I have been in a very bad place ever since I broke things off with Ex-F. Although I had come to terms with my decision, and have no regrets, I found myself unable and unwilling to bounce back from it. It affected me much more deeply than I first realized, and I didn't have much of a support network to help me work through it. The Ex-F was my support network, and let's face it-- that just wouldn't be healthy. The Czarina only felt relief and doesn't see much point in talking about things from the past. MJ is too far away and even she admits she never answers her phone. My friends here are nice enough, but not so close that I can have heart-to-hearts with them.
I am rapidly burning out at my job. I do not like living in Savannah. I have put on a little more weight (not a lot, but enough that I can't wear the pants I wore last year) and I have become a total hermit. Aside from one or two things I have going on, I spend the vast majority of my free time watching tv on my couch, alone with my dog, eating junk food. (Part of this is also due to my recent obsession with current events, so I am learning a lot -- it's not a total waste! But that is for another post.) To make a long story short, I have not been myself lately. I have been a sad shell of my formerly vibrant self. My recent lifestyle is nothing I would wish on anyone and is certainly no way for a young woman to live. I am supposed to be happy and have all these friends and be running around doing stuff. Over the last year, I have been more lonely, more hopeless and more sad than I have ever been in my whole life. But no one (except my mom and MJ) knows. But even they don't know how bad it is. I have been pretty low. Like, scary low.
That's why I haven't blogged about any of it. It would just be a giant pity party. No one wants to read Debbie Downer's blog.
I suppose a shrink would say that I am intentionally shielding myself from any chance that I will ever date again, as a way to punish myself for having broken someone's heart. Or that I am so afraid of failing and ending up alone that I would just rather not even try. At least then, if I die alone, it won't be because I effed up, but because the universe didn't come through for me. (What, you didn't know the universe is supposed to be finding me a new boyfriend? Yeah, do you see how wacked out I am on self-pity??) A physician would probably tell me to exercise and eat right, so that I would feel better, gain more self-confidence and improve my mood. The Czarina just tells me all my problems are because of my weight and if I would just lose weight all my problems would magically disappear. They are probably right. Well, I think The Czarina's logic is a little off, but she means well. She's not the most sympathetic person in the world, let's face it.
It's not like I've never been through a bad breakup before. Or been lonely. Or overweight. Or suffered from bouts of insecurity. But I've always bounced right back before. For some reason, this time it was different. I have no motivation to change, even though I am not happy where I am now. This bummed-out period has been longer. Much longer.
I don't think I am clinically depressed, but I have been hovering around it and wallowing in self-pity for over a year now. Maybe I am undiagnosed. "I have a great apartment and a great job, and that's enough," I have been lying to myself. I feel like I've been on the Negativity-go-Round for a year, and I'd like to get off. It's starting to make me wanna barf.
See how fun this is? Wheeee! I know you are so glad you stopped by.
But the good news is, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I think that all my praying is starting to pay off. I think I am slowly coming out of it. I have been taking long walks with Sammy, and they help to put me in a slightly better mood. I am going to try and do more fun things not involving my couch. I just found a new church to go to, so that is also a good thing. After tiring of my coworkers nagging me, I put up a profile on OK Cupid (an online dating site) -- and let me tell you, I am so NOT into it. I haven't even replied to any of the emails. I am going to attend/try/go to anything that sounds interesting or fun. Even if it costs money (one of my favorite excuses to sit on my couch!). I am going to try and meet more people. I am looking forward to having news to share with someone when they call me and want to know what's new.
I am not going out this way. This has gone on long enough.
Ok, stay tuned for more optimistic (and funnier!) posts. Maybe more frequent, too. No more Debbie Downer. She's had enough space in my brain.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
BYOB in the New Year
That's Bring Your Own Baggage, by the way. Certainly nothing to do with alcohol in my life! But if I did still drink, I would have a nice tall frosty one right now. Actually, make that some tequila shots.
CN is on a date.
As in....right now.
At dinner. With some girl.
And I'm ok with it. For the most part. It's kind of weird. There is a twinge of jealousy, I am not going to lie. Part of me feels like I should be the one to move on first, since I broke it off. In a lot of ways, I have moved on. But when he told me what he was doing tonight, it was all that much more evident to me that I am NOT NOT NOT ready to date anyone right now. No way, Jose. Flirt, yes. Check out a cute guy? Totally. Date? Nonononono. The thought of going on a date is just surreal to me at the moment. I want me time. Lots and lots of me time.
I'm kind of sad, though. Not only do I know it's over (obviously), but now I know that he knows it, too.
I have been psyching myself up all weekend to get going on resuming my diet/exercise regime. It's an annual event. Ha! Feeling all positive about myself....and wham. The ex has a date. And here I am, I weigh a ton (I am now too fat for my underwear....that's not a good sign), I cannot even remember how to date (because I am not putting myself out there because I am terrified), my self-esteem is rock bottom (due to weight issues) and I am now having a pity party while he's moving on. Good times. Please pass the Haagen-Daz.
I have been beating myself up all day about the fact I haven't really started dieting or exercising yet. Oh, and today (of course!) I was going through some old junk, and ran into all my leftover wedding planning stuff. As I am looking at it, feeling a little sad, he yells down the hall to tell me what his plans are for the evening. Classic.
The optimist in me won't let me throw it away, though. I kept all the torn out pictures of wedding dresses I like and kept the planner. It's now in storage in the garage.
So this news is kind of bad timing more than anything else. My esteem was already in the tanker. I am NOT going to have a pity party. I refuse. (Note: I have been sobbing through this entire post, so that is actually a bald-faced lie.) Feeling sorry for myself will only keep me miserable and let me remain overweight. I have GOT to pull up my bootstraps and get going with my life, instead of letting it take over and running the show. I am in charge. ME.
I am NOT too old. I am NOT too fat. I am NOT giving up. I am going to make this year ROCK if it's the last thing I do. I have two coworkers who want to exercise and lose weight, too, so I have buddies. One of them is single, too, and we've already talked about The Hot Girl Lifestyle. We will own it in 2010.
Things I am looking forward to:
1. I (think) I am buying a laptop soon. YAY! This will enable me to blog more/read blogs more, since I can get out of the house and have some computer privacy. (The lack of privacy, along with work's insanity have both played a role. I miss the blogosphere!) Anyone know who has free wi-fi? (On a semi-related note, is wi-fi trustworthy? Can I shop safely?)
2. Exercise. I cannot wait to run again. (You will notice I am notnotnot looking forward to the "diet" portion of the Sexy New Me program...) I already got new work out pants.
3. Moving. Again. (I am such a nomad, aren't I?) I don't know when. Perhaps I will need my own place sooner than I realized! I have been aching for it, lately. I'd hate to do it again so soon, and leave him with the big rent to pay all by himself, but I gotta do what I gotta do. I don't like the floorplan of this place, anyway. And I miss walking to work. Perhaps I can hold out until March, when the weather is nicer.
4. Getting back in touch with Single VB. She's been gone a loooong time, and hasn't really come out yet. I have been in my little comfort zone on the couch. Time to get out and about, doing things I want to do, fat or not. All work and no play makes VB a dull girl. And who wants to date a dull girl?
I am exercising tomorrow at 9am. I will be making my first *healthy* trip to the grocery store in a long time tomorrow, too. Now, if only I could find all my Weight Watchers paraphernelia...
CN is on a date.
As in....right now.
At dinner. With some girl.
And I'm ok with it. For the most part. It's kind of weird. There is a twinge of jealousy, I am not going to lie. Part of me feels like I should be the one to move on first, since I broke it off. In a lot of ways, I have moved on. But when he told me what he was doing tonight, it was all that much more evident to me that I am NOT NOT NOT ready to date anyone right now. No way, Jose. Flirt, yes. Check out a cute guy? Totally. Date? Nonononono. The thought of going on a date is just surreal to me at the moment. I want me time. Lots and lots of me time.
I'm kind of sad, though. Not only do I know it's over (obviously), but now I know that he knows it, too.
I have been psyching myself up all weekend to get going on resuming my diet/exercise regime. It's an annual event. Ha! Feeling all positive about myself....and wham. The ex has a date. And here I am, I weigh a ton (I am now too fat for my underwear....that's not a good sign), I cannot even remember how to date (because I am not putting myself out there because I am terrified), my self-esteem is rock bottom (due to weight issues) and I am now having a pity party while he's moving on. Good times. Please pass the Haagen-Daz.
I have been beating myself up all day about the fact I haven't really started dieting or exercising yet. Oh, and today (of course!) I was going through some old junk, and ran into all my leftover wedding planning stuff. As I am looking at it, feeling a little sad, he yells down the hall to tell me what his plans are for the evening. Classic.
The optimist in me won't let me throw it away, though. I kept all the torn out pictures of wedding dresses I like and kept the planner. It's now in storage in the garage.
So this news is kind of bad timing more than anything else. My esteem was already in the tanker. I am NOT going to have a pity party. I refuse. (Note: I have been sobbing through this entire post, so that is actually a bald-faced lie.) Feeling sorry for myself will only keep me miserable and let me remain overweight. I have GOT to pull up my bootstraps and get going with my life, instead of letting it take over and running the show. I am in charge. ME.
I am NOT too old. I am NOT too fat. I am NOT giving up. I am going to make this year ROCK if it's the last thing I do. I have two coworkers who want to exercise and lose weight, too, so I have buddies. One of them is single, too, and we've already talked about The Hot Girl Lifestyle. We will own it in 2010.
Things I am looking forward to:
1. I (think) I am buying a laptop soon. YAY! This will enable me to blog more/read blogs more, since I can get out of the house and have some computer privacy. (The lack of privacy, along with work's insanity have both played a role. I miss the blogosphere!) Anyone know who has free wi-fi? (On a semi-related note, is wi-fi trustworthy? Can I shop safely?)
2. Exercise. I cannot wait to run again. (You will notice I am notnotnot looking forward to the "diet" portion of the Sexy New Me program...) I already got new work out pants.
3. Moving. Again. (I am such a nomad, aren't I?) I don't know when. Perhaps I will need my own place sooner than I realized! I have been aching for it, lately. I'd hate to do it again so soon, and leave him with the big rent to pay all by himself, but I gotta do what I gotta do. I don't like the floorplan of this place, anyway. And I miss walking to work. Perhaps I can hold out until March, when the weather is nicer.
4. Getting back in touch with Single VB. She's been gone a loooong time, and hasn't really come out yet. I have been in my little comfort zone on the couch. Time to get out and about, doing things I want to do, fat or not. All work and no play makes VB a dull girl. And who wants to date a dull girl?
I am exercising tomorrow at 9am. I will be making my first *healthy* trip to the grocery store in a long time tomorrow, too. Now, if only I could find all my Weight Watchers paraphernelia...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Growing Pains
Just to clarify for everyone, I am not blogging right now so that I can talk about my boyfriend's "small wiener" because I "don't even like him anymore."
Ugh. This is all I am listening to until my drunk boyfriend goes to bed. It's like a frigging record player. He's joking when he says it, but he's slurring. Which would be funny. The first 43 times.
Oh crap. He just came in and read all of that over my shoulder. Now he's talking about how I "don't even like him anymore." Again. According to him, he is sleeping on the couch (he's not) because I hate him (I don't). Ooh, he turned on American Idol. Sweet. It's like my own personal boyfriend babysitter. Silence is golden. I can blog in peace.
*Mumblings about how I don't even like him because he has a small wiener are heard from the living room couch.*
"No, you don't have a small wiener. It's massive and I can barely handle it," I am saying.
He said something about buttholes. I don't know.
Gotta love this insight into our lives, huh? I am tired and he's drunk. Hence this weird post. We have this exact conversation anytime he has more than 4 beers. Luckily, you are not physically here with us, so you don't have to witness him grabbing my boobs and "massaging" (read: man-handling them like he's tenderizing a steak) them, which causes me to slap his hands away and tell him to leave me alone.
This inevitably leads to another slurring rant about how I don't like him and his theoretically small wiener. Only this time, since my stalker (yes, the same stalker) tried to friend me AGAIN on myspace today, he now follows it up with, "You probably want Sylvester's wiener!! I know it!!"
UGH.
This is actually a perfect intro for what I want to talk about today. I knew that since CN and I have always gotten along extremely well (it's kind of unreal, actually, how well we get along) that ...
"No, I am not blogging lies about you," I just yelled to him.
Negative mumblings from the couch.
"Yes, I do love you," I continue. Please go back to talking to Paula Abdul, I think to myself.
Where was I? Oh yes. I knew it would go pretty well, this whole moving in together thing. I knew we would not have any major problems. And we don't. But the devil's in the details, you know? Here are some things I have learned about him since this whole moving thing has taken place:
1. He gives new meaning to the label "pack rat". He makes me look like an amateur. I told him I'd help him pack up his stuff/get rid of stuff he doesn't want anymore. So we go to Columbia for the weekend to get started on packing his stuff. 15 garbage bags full of trash later, he realizes he doesn't have as much stuff as he thought and I realize he hasn't thrown anything away since the 12th grade. Who keeps notebooks full of notes from college classes????!!
2. He is apparently incapable of closing a shower curtain when he's done taking a shower. This irks the crap out of me, because you might as well tell Mr. and Mrs. Mildew to just sit down and make themselves comfortable on your plastic...
"No I don't! Your wiener is not small and ugly! I love you very much and I am not telling lies about you! Your wiener smells fine!! I'm not telling anyone that!"
Ok, anyway, you get what I'm saying about the wet shower curtain.
3. Did you know that the phrases "resealable packaging" and "to prevent them from drying out" are lost on some people? Yup. My boyfriend is one of them. Baby wipes, cleaning wipes, you name it. Left open to the air. Worthless.
4. He owns approximately 587 towels. Somewhere there is a 20 year old son of a cotton industry magnate, driving his own BMW paid for by my boyfriend's towel collection.
5. Did I mention that he only uses the towel once before they are "dirty"? Which is funny to me, because he only uses them to dry off his squeaky clean body when he gets out of the shower, which will soon be full of mildew, thanks to his inability to understand the concept of fungi. If you are doing the math, this is at least 7 "dirty" towels per week from him. This makes him a complete freak, in my book.
I am not singling out my boyfriend, though. Oh yes. I am also dealing with some harsh reality of self-reflection:
1. The discussion we had about Absurd Overusage of Bath Towels and Their Laundering made me realize that I had no earthly idea how long it had been since I had pulled out a clean towel for myself. If he's the freek, I'm the gross one. I don't know which is worse.
2. I am a little more possessive -- ok, selfish-- about my stuff and my space than I thought. I *ahem* haven't made much room for him in the closet. But only about 10% of his wardrobe needs ironing, whereas about half of mine does. Ok, maybe a third. Yes, his clothes are on the floor of the bedroom right now. In semi-organized piles. Yes, I am a jerk. But I have a plan and a day off, so things will change for him soon. And CN went to grab some pop tarts the other day, and I said, "Nonononononono!!! Those are for work day breakfasts only! It's one of the few things I can eat at my desk!!!" -- Seriously? I am telling this to my 30 year old boyfriend, who not only washed all 587 of his "dirty" towels, but also my dirty clothes? AND folded them? I am telling him that he can't have a pop tart? Was I even listening to myself?
3. Why. The. Fuck. Do. I. Have. So many. Damn. Shoes. Jesus tapdancing Christ, did they reproduce in the U-Haul on the way down here? I remember looking at my old closet and thinking, "Gosh, 70 pairs isn't really that many. I could totally get more shoes. I have collection gaps, definitely." And now, I want to chuck them ALL because I am sick and tired of trying to store them creatively.
Ok, I'm sure there are more things I could add to this list, but let's face it, my self-critiquing skills are not exactly well-honed. And this is my blog. I told him to get his own, where he can bitch about how messy I am and how I don't seem to understand that expiration dates on food are for safety, not gambling with food, or as I like to call them, "adventures in eating". But he doesn't listen.
Besides, now it's time for me to give you the Ghetto Update.
Last Sunday afternoon, I was at work. (Yes, now I get to work occassional Sundays. I don't want to talk about it.) CN calls me. He was looking out the back window of our place, where he saw a group of teenagers sitting on our back stoop. This would only be mildly irritating, because it's just some harmless trespassing, except for the simple fact they were PASSING AROUND A HANDGUN. Which was the reason he was calling me.
"That's it. We are moving out. It's final. This is the last straw," he said.
I agreed, but questioned why he was talking to me and not a local 911 emergency dispatcher.
"Oh. Cuz they left already," he said.
GAH.
And to add rainbow colored candy sprinkles to this ice cream sundae from hell that is our living situation, Sammy has been bringing home fleas from our walks. So this place is a ticking time bomb, probably full of cazillions of little jumping, biting fuckers, marinating in their little wicked egg cocoon pods, counting down the moment until they get to microscopically turn our bodies into Swiss cheese.
Must. Move. Soon. Please. Send. Help.
Ugh. This is all I am listening to until my drunk boyfriend goes to bed. It's like a frigging record player. He's joking when he says it, but he's slurring. Which would be funny. The first 43 times.
Oh crap. He just came in and read all of that over my shoulder. Now he's talking about how I "don't even like him anymore." Again. According to him, he is sleeping on the couch (he's not) because I hate him (I don't). Ooh, he turned on American Idol. Sweet. It's like my own personal boyfriend babysitter. Silence is golden. I can blog in peace.
*Mumblings about how I don't even like him because he has a small wiener are heard from the living room couch.*
"No, you don't have a small wiener. It's massive and I can barely handle it," I am saying.
He said something about buttholes. I don't know.
Gotta love this insight into our lives, huh? I am tired and he's drunk. Hence this weird post. We have this exact conversation anytime he has more than 4 beers. Luckily, you are not physically here with us, so you don't have to witness him grabbing my boobs and "massaging" (read: man-handling them like he's tenderizing a steak) them, which causes me to slap his hands away and tell him to leave me alone.
This inevitably leads to another slurring rant about how I don't like him and his theoretically small wiener. Only this time, since my stalker (yes, the same stalker) tried to friend me AGAIN on myspace today, he now follows it up with, "You probably want Sylvester's wiener!! I know it!!"
UGH.
This is actually a perfect intro for what I want to talk about today. I knew that since CN and I have always gotten along extremely well (it's kind of unreal, actually, how well we get along) that ...
"No, I am not blogging lies about you," I just yelled to him.
Negative mumblings from the couch.
"Yes, I do love you," I continue. Please go back to talking to Paula Abdul, I think to myself.
Where was I? Oh yes. I knew it would go pretty well, this whole moving in together thing. I knew we would not have any major problems. And we don't. But the devil's in the details, you know? Here are some things I have learned about him since this whole moving thing has taken place:
1. He gives new meaning to the label "pack rat". He makes me look like an amateur. I told him I'd help him pack up his stuff/get rid of stuff he doesn't want anymore. So we go to Columbia for the weekend to get started on packing his stuff. 15 garbage bags full of trash later, he realizes he doesn't have as much stuff as he thought and I realize he hasn't thrown anything away since the 12th grade. Who keeps notebooks full of notes from college classes????!!
2. He is apparently incapable of closing a shower curtain when he's done taking a shower. This irks the crap out of me, because you might as well tell Mr. and Mrs. Mildew to just sit down and make themselves comfortable on your plastic...
"No I don't! Your wiener is not small and ugly! I love you very much and I am not telling lies about you! Your wiener smells fine!! I'm not telling anyone that!"
Ok, anyway, you get what I'm saying about the wet shower curtain.
3. Did you know that the phrases "resealable packaging" and "to prevent them from drying out" are lost on some people? Yup. My boyfriend is one of them. Baby wipes, cleaning wipes, you name it. Left open to the air. Worthless.
4. He owns approximately 587 towels. Somewhere there is a 20 year old son of a cotton industry magnate, driving his own BMW paid for by my boyfriend's towel collection.
5. Did I mention that he only uses the towel once before they are "dirty"? Which is funny to me, because he only uses them to dry off his squeaky clean body when he gets out of the shower, which will soon be full of mildew, thanks to his inability to understand the concept of fungi. If you are doing the math, this is at least 7 "dirty" towels per week from him. This makes him a complete freak, in my book.
I am not singling out my boyfriend, though. Oh yes. I am also dealing with some harsh reality of self-reflection:
1. The discussion we had about Absurd Overusage of Bath Towels and Their Laundering made me realize that I had no earthly idea how long it had been since I had pulled out a clean towel for myself. If he's the freek, I'm the gross one. I don't know which is worse.
2. I am a little more possessive -- ok, selfish-- about my stuff and my space than I thought. I *ahem* haven't made much room for him in the closet. But only about 10% of his wardrobe needs ironing, whereas about half of mine does. Ok, maybe a third. Yes, his clothes are on the floor of the bedroom right now. In semi-organized piles. Yes, I am a jerk. But I have a plan and a day off, so things will change for him soon. And CN went to grab some pop tarts the other day, and I said, "Nonononononono!!! Those are for work day breakfasts only! It's one of the few things I can eat at my desk!!!" -- Seriously? I am telling this to my 30 year old boyfriend, who not only washed all 587 of his "dirty" towels, but also my dirty clothes? AND folded them? I am telling him that he can't have a pop tart? Was I even listening to myself?
3. Why. The. Fuck. Do. I. Have. So many. Damn. Shoes. Jesus tapdancing Christ, did they reproduce in the U-Haul on the way down here? I remember looking at my old closet and thinking, "Gosh, 70 pairs isn't really that many. I could totally get more shoes. I have collection gaps, definitely." And now, I want to chuck them ALL because I am sick and tired of trying to store them creatively.
Ok, I'm sure there are more things I could add to this list, but let's face it, my self-critiquing skills are not exactly well-honed. And this is my blog. I told him to get his own, where he can bitch about how messy I am and how I don't seem to understand that expiration dates on food are for safety, not gambling with food, or as I like to call them, "adventures in eating". But he doesn't listen.
Besides, now it's time for me to give you the Ghetto Update.
Last Sunday afternoon, I was at work. (Yes, now I get to work occassional Sundays. I don't want to talk about it.) CN calls me. He was looking out the back window of our place, where he saw a group of teenagers sitting on our back stoop. This would only be mildly irritating, because it's just some harmless trespassing, except for the simple fact they were PASSING AROUND A HANDGUN. Which was the reason he was calling me.
"That's it. We are moving out. It's final. This is the last straw," he said.
I agreed, but questioned why he was talking to me and not a local 911 emergency dispatcher.
"Oh. Cuz they left already," he said.
GAH.
And to add rainbow colored candy sprinkles to this ice cream sundae from hell that is our living situation, Sammy has been bringing home fleas from our walks. So this place is a ticking time bomb, probably full of cazillions of little jumping, biting fuckers, marinating in their little wicked egg cocoon pods, counting down the moment until they get to microscopically turn our bodies into Swiss cheese.
Must. Move. Soon. Please. Send. Help.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Crap!
Well, crap.
Ok, remember how I was waiting to hear if I got to teach a class this fall? And if I got to teach the class, I could quit my part time job at Dildo's? And then I wouldn't have to work weekends anymore? Well...
I didn't get a class.
So now, I am stuck at Dildo's. Unless I can find another part time job. One that doesn't suck. I hope it's soon. I am getting really tired of Dildo's. And there's no way I'm working there over the holidays. I have worked retail during the holidays before, and it's a nightmare.
Y'all, I am really bummed about this!!! I guess I got my hopes up. I knew I shouldn't have done that. Because you know what happens when you do that. Counting chickens, etc.
It's not like this is the end of the world, but I'm starting to get really burned out and was really looking forward to having more free time. But now, after paying off about $2,000 in credit card debt, I'm kind of hooked on watching my balances go down, you know? I don't want to quit now. I'm just starting to make a big dent!!! 25% of my credit card debt is GONE. That is a good feeling!!
I can quit whenever I want. Yadda yadda. But it's hard to quit when you want to pay down debt. And it's really nice to have that extra money around when little emergencies come up (example: my car battery died the other day) or when you want to treat yourself to gorgeous handbags*. I can pay for these things without breaking a sweat. Since I have budgeted paying $500-600/month on my credit cards, but my Dildo's job sometimes pays more (because they work me to death), I usually have an extra $100/week to spend on crap. I like buying crap. Crap makes me happy. Not the dammit-will-I-ever-get-to-quit-this-stupid-job crap, but the look-how-freaking-fabulous-my-new-bag-is crap.
Ugh, this is such a blow to my morale. You have no idea how much I have been day dreaming about sleeping in on Saturdays, lazy Sunday afternoons where I read a book on my couch, weekend trips, a clean house, having time to work out again...*sigh*
I guess I will just have to keep my eyes peeled for a better part time job, and maybe cross my fingers that I can teach a class in the spring.
At least now I won't have to worry about whether or not CN and I will take a trip over Labor Day weekend. Dildo's settled it for me: I will get to work extra-long hours that weekend, thanks to our Labor Day sale.
Crap!!!!! This sucks donkey balls!!!!! Please leave me cheery and encouraging comments! I am bummed out!!!
* I have this purse, in a beautiful pearlescent white leather, on hold at Dildo's right now. Thanks to our kick-ass sale going on at the moment, instead of $248, I can buy it for $87. WOOT!
Ok, remember how I was waiting to hear if I got to teach a class this fall? And if I got to teach the class, I could quit my part time job at Dildo's? And then I wouldn't have to work weekends anymore? Well...
I didn't get a class.
So now, I am stuck at Dildo's. Unless I can find another part time job. One that doesn't suck. I hope it's soon. I am getting really tired of Dildo's. And there's no way I'm working there over the holidays. I have worked retail during the holidays before, and it's a nightmare.
Y'all, I am really bummed about this!!! I guess I got my hopes up. I knew I shouldn't have done that. Because you know what happens when you do that. Counting chickens, etc.
It's not like this is the end of the world, but I'm starting to get really burned out and was really looking forward to having more free time. But now, after paying off about $2,000 in credit card debt, I'm kind of hooked on watching my balances go down, you know? I don't want to quit now. I'm just starting to make a big dent!!! 25% of my credit card debt is GONE. That is a good feeling!!
I can quit whenever I want. Yadda yadda. But it's hard to quit when you want to pay down debt. And it's really nice to have that extra money around when little emergencies come up (example: my car battery died the other day) or when you want to treat yourself to gorgeous handbags*. I can pay for these things without breaking a sweat. Since I have budgeted paying $500-600/month on my credit cards, but my Dildo's job sometimes pays more (because they work me to death), I usually have an extra $100/week to spend on crap. I like buying crap. Crap makes me happy. Not the dammit-will-I-ever-get-to-quit-this-stupid-job crap, but the look-how-freaking-fabulous-my-new-bag-is crap.
Ugh, this is such a blow to my morale. You have no idea how much I have been day dreaming about sleeping in on Saturdays, lazy Sunday afternoons where I read a book on my couch, weekend trips, a clean house, having time to work out again...*sigh*
I guess I will just have to keep my eyes peeled for a better part time job, and maybe cross my fingers that I can teach a class in the spring.
At least now I won't have to worry about whether or not CN and I will take a trip over Labor Day weekend. Dildo's settled it for me: I will get to work extra-long hours that weekend, thanks to our Labor Day sale.
Crap!!!!! This sucks donkey balls!!!!! Please leave me cheery and encouraging comments! I am bummed out!!!
* I have this purse, in a beautiful pearlescent white leather, on hold at Dildo's right now. Thanks to our kick-ass sale going on at the moment, instead of $248, I can buy it for $87. WOOT!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Groundhog Day
**WARNING** There is an obscene amount of whining and bitching in this post. Skip if you don't feel like listening today. Don't worry. I won't have time to notice a lack of comments.
Groundhog Day.
Have you seen the Bill Murray movie? I haven't, but based on what I've heard, I probably should. Apparently, it's about a man who has to re-live the same day over and over.
Oh, how I can relate.
Ironically, I don't have time to watch it. I'm too busy living my own Groundhog Day.
CN told me about an old "In Living Color" skit about the Hedleys, a family of Jamaicans, caught in a one-upmanship of employment. But the end of the skit, their claims are pretty outrageous:
I can relate to that skit, too: "I don't have time. I have to go to work." Sometimes, I feel like I work 12 jobs.
My full-time job is on the same schedule every week. My part time job is on the same schedule every week. With a few small gaps, these two schedules mesh perfectly together all week long. My house isn't so much of a home as it is an extremely dirty hotel room to me. I hurry between my bed, my main job and my part time job, only to repeat it again and again and again. Day in and day out, with each job session connected to the next, like a circled chain. I feel like I'm stuck in the pilot episode of an extremely popular dramadey: "Broadcast tonight with no commercial interruptions."
You have no idea what I would give for a goddamn commercial interruption. Time to sleep, time to clean, time to sit on my couch and BREATHE. Time to do laundry, time to cook a real meal, time to actually SEE my friends, instead of just texting them sporadically. Time to play with my dog and wander around Target.
My schedule is so strict, that if I don't get an errand done early Thursday morning, it doesn't get done. Period. I have to plan when to fill up my gas tank. I forget to go to the bathroom, only to realize I needed to pee 3 hours ago. Or I am baffled as to why I'm suddenly so thirsty, only to realize that it's 3pm, and the last thing I drank was the 6am coffee that morning. I am so concerned with the "OMG! I'm late! Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be doing?" that I'm forgetting to do little things, like water my yard, return phone calls or make deposits at the bank. I find myself really looking at my priorities: unload the dishwasher or shave my legs? Iron the clean shirt, or dig through the dirty clothes to find something that will pass? Sleep or eat?
And lately, with my brain's dial set to the "Go! Do! Now!" setting, I'm having a hard time turning my body off at the end of the day, no matter how exhausted I am. That means that now, I am starting to get insomnia.
Hoo fucking ray.
Btw, this is on top of the constant headaches and gastro-intestinal issues I've already developed, thanks to my super fun new schedule.
And if you are someone who is good friends with/dating/married to someone who works two jobs, you would be The Most Awesome Person in the World if you would offer to run errands for that person. Or vaccuum their living room. Or cook them a meal. Or throw their clothes in the dryer. Instead of saying things like, "Yeah, I'm going on vacation to your most favoritest place in the world! Wish you could go with me! But you have to work, right?" or "My day? Oh, I just sorta watched tv today. Went to the gym. Took a nap. Not much." Saying these things might get your head ripped off, instantly and without apology.
So much for the Public Service Announcement portion of this blog post...and yes, CN did say that 2nd one to me the other day. But I was too exhausted to do anything more than whimper. Thinking about it pisses me off. A lot. But how can you ask your boyfriend to vacuum your living room for you, when getting the 2nd job was your idea in the first place? *sigh*
You can imagine how much fun I am to be around. Let me tell you, I am a *peach*. If I had my wish right now, I would scream at a stranger, and then have a good cry and a nap. It's sort of what I imagine being pregnant is like. Exhaustion, frustration and hopelessness. It's not going to end for months. And months. What have I gotten myself into? Why did I think this was a good idea? Is it too late to go back to the good ol' days?
Those of you who are mothers, work two jobs or have otherwise absurd numbers of juggled balls in the air, I salute you. Seriously, how the fuck do you do this without either losing your mind or turning into a supreme mega bitch?
I know what you are asking. "VB, why not just take a sick day? Call in, take a day off, you will feel better!" To which I reply:
1. I need much MUCH more than a day off. I need like a week off. Complete with clean sheets, a massage and fruity drinks. A pile of books, a big TV and a totally blank calendar. One day off wouldn't be a drop in the bucket. I had last Sunday off. It wasn't enough. It was nice to cook, don't get me wrong. But it wasn't enough. I need a Decompression Period.
2. I can't take a day off from my library job. I am working on Super Massive Huge Project, remember? And it's due on August 1st. I am about 85-90% done. So until it is done, no can do. To be perfectly honest, I have no business typing this blog post right now. I don't technically have time. But I have to do it, or I might kill a kitten or something.
3. I can't call in sick to Dildo's. First of all, it would only give me 3 hours off, and 3 evening hours isn't enough, either. Besides, they tend to fire people who call in. Not that it matters. I might quit today anyway.
Too bad my poor Dildo's manager has no idea what's coming for her at 6pm tonight. It is I, in all of my exhausted rage, and I have every intention of getting in her face and being a total bitch. Without warning. This is why:
1. Every employee gets one full weekend and one additional Sunday off per month. To date, I have had one weekend and two Sunday off. Over a 3 month period. Also, no Dildo's employee is supposed to close every Saturday. I have. So I think I've been getting screwed. This is not making me happy. Especially since that ONE weekend off was spent at my mother's house. So think about aaaaaaaall the stuff you have done in the last 11 weekends. I have not had that time at all. It was spent standing on my feet.
2. I have brought up the fact that I am not a machine to my manager, who replies with either, "Sorry, that's Dildo's policy." or "I didn't give you that day off? I'm sorry! I will fix it!" -- Both replies piss me off. Because they both communicate the same message: "I don't care!" It's bad enough hearing this message from any manager. But when it comes from the mouth of a 23 year old bimbo who spends most of her time at work doing nothing except flirting with another manager, you pretty much want to rip her face off.
This past weekend, I became fed up. After asking my worthless Dildo's manager for a weekend off this month THREE times, she "forgot" to change my schedule before she called in sick for a three day weekend so she could hang out with her boyfriend. So I had to work all weekend, AGAIN. If you are looking at a calendar right now, you will see that there are 4 weekends in July. Three of which have already passed without her fixing my schedule.
That means, there's only one weekend left. It's inventory weekend. No one is supposed to have that weekend off. So I know she's going to tell me I can't have this coming weekend off, either. And that's when I will punch her in the face. My goal is to break her nose in the process. I think that under the circumstances, the judge will be merciful.
"Give me Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, or I quit. Now." -- is what I will say. I know it doesn't sound like much of a threat, but that's because you don't know she's had some major turnover in her department lately. (My guess is because she never gives anyone any fucking days off.) So she is MEGA short handed at the moment.
And if she doesn't go for it? Fine by me. I was planning on quitting soon, anyway. Because I just cannot take this any more. At this point, maybe being in debt is worth a little sanity. Who knew how important weekends are to your psyche?? I mean, yeah, I'm making $150-200 a week. But at what price? I feel like shit. My house smells. I haven't exercised in three months. I am exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally.
Fuck. I'm late. I gotta go. I was supposed to go to lunch 45 minutes ago. Sorry about all the bitching and whining. I will try and be funner tomorrow. :\
Groundhog Day.
Have you seen the Bill Murray movie? I haven't, but based on what I've heard, I probably should. Apparently, it's about a man who has to re-live the same day over and over.
Oh, how I can relate.
Ironically, I don't have time to watch it. I'm too busy living my own Groundhog Day.
CN told me about an old "In Living Color" skit about the Hedleys, a family of Jamaicans, caught in a one-upmanship of employment. But the end of the skit, their claims are pretty outrageous:
I can relate to that skit, too: "I don't have time. I have to go to work." Sometimes, I feel like I work 12 jobs.
My full-time job is on the same schedule every week. My part time job is on the same schedule every week. With a few small gaps, these two schedules mesh perfectly together all week long. My house isn't so much of a home as it is an extremely dirty hotel room to me. I hurry between my bed, my main job and my part time job, only to repeat it again and again and again. Day in and day out, with each job session connected to the next, like a circled chain. I feel like I'm stuck in the pilot episode of an extremely popular dramadey: "Broadcast tonight with no commercial interruptions."
You have no idea what I would give for a goddamn commercial interruption. Time to sleep, time to clean, time to sit on my couch and BREATHE. Time to do laundry, time to cook a real meal, time to actually SEE my friends, instead of just texting them sporadically. Time to play with my dog and wander around Target.
My schedule is so strict, that if I don't get an errand done early Thursday morning, it doesn't get done. Period. I have to plan when to fill up my gas tank. I forget to go to the bathroom, only to realize I needed to pee 3 hours ago. Or I am baffled as to why I'm suddenly so thirsty, only to realize that it's 3pm, and the last thing I drank was the 6am coffee that morning. I am so concerned with the "OMG! I'm late! Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be doing?" that I'm forgetting to do little things, like water my yard, return phone calls or make deposits at the bank. I find myself really looking at my priorities: unload the dishwasher or shave my legs? Iron the clean shirt, or dig through the dirty clothes to find something that will pass? Sleep or eat?
And lately, with my brain's dial set to the "Go! Do! Now!" setting, I'm having a hard time turning my body off at the end of the day, no matter how exhausted I am. That means that now, I am starting to get insomnia.
Hoo fucking ray.
Btw, this is on top of the constant headaches and gastro-intestinal issues I've already developed, thanks to my super fun new schedule.
And if you are someone who is good friends with/dating/married to someone who works two jobs, you would be The Most Awesome Person in the World if you would offer to run errands for that person. Or vaccuum their living room. Or cook them a meal. Or throw their clothes in the dryer. Instead of saying things like, "Yeah, I'm going on vacation to your most favoritest place in the world! Wish you could go with me! But you have to work, right?" or "My day? Oh, I just sorta watched tv today. Went to the gym. Took a nap. Not much." Saying these things might get your head ripped off, instantly and without apology.
So much for the Public Service Announcement portion of this blog post...and yes, CN did say that 2nd one to me the other day. But I was too exhausted to do anything more than whimper. Thinking about it pisses me off. A lot. But how can you ask your boyfriend to vacuum your living room for you, when getting the 2nd job was your idea in the first place? *sigh*
You can imagine how much fun I am to be around. Let me tell you, I am a *peach*. If I had my wish right now, I would scream at a stranger, and then have a good cry and a nap. It's sort of what I imagine being pregnant is like. Exhaustion, frustration and hopelessness. It's not going to end for months. And months. What have I gotten myself into? Why did I think this was a good idea? Is it too late to go back to the good ol' days?
Those of you who are mothers, work two jobs or have otherwise absurd numbers of juggled balls in the air, I salute you. Seriously, how the fuck do you do this without either losing your mind or turning into a supreme mega bitch?
I know what you are asking. "VB, why not just take a sick day? Call in, take a day off, you will feel better!" To which I reply:
1. I need much MUCH more than a day off. I need like a week off. Complete with clean sheets, a massage and fruity drinks. A pile of books, a big TV and a totally blank calendar. One day off wouldn't be a drop in the bucket. I had last Sunday off. It wasn't enough. It was nice to cook, don't get me wrong. But it wasn't enough. I need a Decompression Period.
2. I can't take a day off from my library job. I am working on Super Massive Huge Project, remember? And it's due on August 1st. I am about 85-90% done. So until it is done, no can do. To be perfectly honest, I have no business typing this blog post right now. I don't technically have time. But I have to do it, or I might kill a kitten or something.
3. I can't call in sick to Dildo's. First of all, it would only give me 3 hours off, and 3 evening hours isn't enough, either. Besides, they tend to fire people who call in. Not that it matters. I might quit today anyway.
Too bad my poor Dildo's manager has no idea what's coming for her at 6pm tonight. It is I, in all of my exhausted rage, and I have every intention of getting in her face and being a total bitch. Without warning. This is why:
1. Every employee gets one full weekend and one additional Sunday off per month. To date, I have had one weekend and two Sunday off. Over a 3 month period. Also, no Dildo's employee is supposed to close every Saturday. I have. So I think I've been getting screwed. This is not making me happy. Especially since that ONE weekend off was spent at my mother's house. So think about aaaaaaaall the stuff you have done in the last 11 weekends. I have not had that time at all. It was spent standing on my feet.
2. I have brought up the fact that I am not a machine to my manager, who replies with either, "Sorry, that's Dildo's policy." or "I didn't give you that day off? I'm sorry! I will fix it!" -- Both replies piss me off. Because they both communicate the same message: "I don't care!" It's bad enough hearing this message from any manager. But when it comes from the mouth of a 23 year old bimbo who spends most of her time at work doing nothing except flirting with another manager, you pretty much want to rip her face off.
This past weekend, I became fed up. After asking my worthless Dildo's manager for a weekend off this month THREE times, she "forgot" to change my schedule before she called in sick for a three day weekend so she could hang out with her boyfriend. So I had to work all weekend, AGAIN. If you are looking at a calendar right now, you will see that there are 4 weekends in July. Three of which have already passed without her fixing my schedule.
That means, there's only one weekend left. It's inventory weekend. No one is supposed to have that weekend off. So I know she's going to tell me I can't have this coming weekend off, either. And that's when I will punch her in the face. My goal is to break her nose in the process. I think that under the circumstances, the judge will be merciful.
"Give me Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, or I quit. Now." -- is what I will say. I know it doesn't sound like much of a threat, but that's because you don't know she's had some major turnover in her department lately. (My guess is because she never gives anyone any fucking days off.) So she is MEGA short handed at the moment.
And if she doesn't go for it? Fine by me. I was planning on quitting soon, anyway. Because I just cannot take this any more. At this point, maybe being in debt is worth a little sanity. Who knew how important weekends are to your psyche?? I mean, yeah, I'm making $150-200 a week. But at what price? I feel like shit. My house smells. I haven't exercised in three months. I am exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally.
Fuck. I'm late. I gotta go. I was supposed to go to lunch 45 minutes ago. Sorry about all the bitching and whining. I will try and be funner tomorrow. :\
Monday, June 16, 2008
Absent Minded
Can someone please stop the ride? I'd like to get off! It's not fun anymore!
My life and my brain are jammed full. I seriously cannot take anymore. When you have to schedule when you are going to take the full garbage bag from your kitchen to your garbage can (which is only on the side of your house), you know your life is ridiculous.
I'm not whining. Ok, yes I am. This is my damn blog, and I'll whine if I want to. But look at what I'm juggling:
1. FT job, complete with MASSIVE project, entailing a bunch of writing, emails and meetings. Keep in mind that I don't really know what I'm doing on this project. And that I'm a procrastinator. It's ugly, y'all.
2. PT job, where your ass is grass if you don't clock in/out on time. Keep in mind that punctuality is not my strong suit. (I have yet to be late though! Hi fives to me!) So I stress about getting there. I have realized only too late that although everyone is expecting me to eventually move to the Clinique counter, I don't want to go. Especially since I'm planning on quitting right before Thanksgiving, so that I won't have to work the hell that is the Holiday Mall Job. So I have to pretend that I'm striving for the cosmetics department, when in reality, I have no desire to move. Or stay. Shhh!
3. I am dog sitting for MJ this week. Which is fine -- I probably owe her about 4 dog sitting turns. And Cornbread (her dog) is extremely low-maintenance. I'm just concerned about the fact that I'm working 12 hour days pretty much until the 25th. I will be able to feed and walk the dogs, but playtime? Forget it!
4. 12 hour days + no time to cook = poor food choices. 12 hour days = total exhaustion = lack of exercise. You don't have to do any math to calculate how this is impacting my waistline. Or energy levels. Or sleep patterns. Helllllllllooooooo insomnia!
5. For reasons which remain unclear, it is my job to find the fireworks for this year's annual party at The Czarina's. The party consists of approximately 75 people, all anticipating the legendary Belle Family Fireworks Finale over their 6th stiff drink. (Have I told you that fireworks are big in my family? Yeah. The Czarina's uncle owns a fireworks company in Kansas City. The Belles heart fireworks. Because of 9/11, my relatives in KC cannot mail us gigantic boxes of flammable fireworks like they used to do, back in the good ol' days.) It has fallen on me to make sure this year's show doesn't suck. As if I don't have anything else to do. To make it really interesting, I have known about this for a month, but I totally forgot until yesterday afternoon, when The Czarina called for a progress report. Oops.
6. BOTH of my bosses decided to take big, fat vacations this month. That means I can't talk to Dildo's boss about my jacked up schedule. (She's got me working 25 hours per week, which is WAY too much!) And I am responsible for a bunch of extra stuff while my FT boss is out of town. I have just given myself a headache, typing this.
7. I am now seeing my friends once every two weeks at best. I'm worried it will affect my friendships. And even though CN lives across the street, and we see each other a lot, the vast majority of our conversations involve me asking for favors: "Will you walk Sammy? Turn my sprinklers on? Get my mail? Bring me food? Put my clothes in the dryer?" Or a 5 minute "how was your day?" catch up. To make it extra fun, I'm now always too tired or busy for quality time. Of any kind.
8. Big Brothers Big Sisters called. They have a Little Sister picked out for me. (YAY!!) So I have to call them back and schedule a meeting with the Little. I think that will have to be in......July. Afterwards, I have to hang out with my Little for 4 hours per month. Somehow.
With all of this crap in my brain, I'm starting to forget things and mix up things. A lot of people have been saying to me, "Don't you remember? We talked about that the other day." I have also noticed that my brain is always in a fog. Like I can't focus on anything, because I'm trying to remember everything. I am so focused on "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" that I can't think about anything else. Like my blog. Or returning emails. Or my big project at work. My brain thinks, "Ok, you made it. You are where you're supposed to be. Good job!" -- and then it turns off. When it's supposed to be just getting started.
At the end of the day, it's the opposite problem: my brain won't turn off. And when your day ends at 10:00pm, dammit, you want some alone time with your tv and your dog. Which means you don't get to bed until 11pm. And then you stare at the ceiling until midnight. Ugh.
Don't forget, I'm wrapping up the month of June with a 4-day visit to The Czarina's, complete with the introduction of CN to my entire family and close family friends. Because that won't be stressful.
Awesome.
If my life were a video game, this is the part where I would intentionally jump off a cliff, because this level is too difficult. I need to go down a level. Back to sanity. Leave this one to the experts.
On the upside, my bank account makes me smile now. :)
Ugh. Ok, I have to go. I need some Excedrin....
My life and my brain are jammed full. I seriously cannot take anymore. When you have to schedule when you are going to take the full garbage bag from your kitchen to your garbage can (which is only on the side of your house), you know your life is ridiculous.
I'm not whining. Ok, yes I am. This is my damn blog, and I'll whine if I want to. But look at what I'm juggling:
1. FT job, complete with MASSIVE project, entailing a bunch of writing, emails and meetings. Keep in mind that I don't really know what I'm doing on this project. And that I'm a procrastinator. It's ugly, y'all.
2. PT job, where your ass is grass if you don't clock in/out on time. Keep in mind that punctuality is not my strong suit. (I have yet to be late though! Hi fives to me!) So I stress about getting there. I have realized only too late that although everyone is expecting me to eventually move to the Clinique counter, I don't want to go. Especially since I'm planning on quitting right before Thanksgiving, so that I won't have to work the hell that is the Holiday Mall Job. So I have to pretend that I'm striving for the cosmetics department, when in reality, I have no desire to move. Or stay. Shhh!
3. I am dog sitting for MJ this week. Which is fine -- I probably owe her about 4 dog sitting turns. And Cornbread (her dog) is extremely low-maintenance. I'm just concerned about the fact that I'm working 12 hour days pretty much until the 25th. I will be able to feed and walk the dogs, but playtime? Forget it!
4. 12 hour days + no time to cook = poor food choices. 12 hour days = total exhaustion = lack of exercise. You don't have to do any math to calculate how this is impacting my waistline. Or energy levels. Or sleep patterns. Helllllllllooooooo insomnia!
5. For reasons which remain unclear, it is my job to find the fireworks for this year's annual party at The Czarina's. The party consists of approximately 75 people, all anticipating the legendary Belle Family Fireworks Finale over their 6th stiff drink. (Have I told you that fireworks are big in my family? Yeah. The Czarina's uncle owns a fireworks company in Kansas City. The Belles heart fireworks. Because of 9/11, my relatives in KC cannot mail us gigantic boxes of flammable fireworks like they used to do, back in the good ol' days.) It has fallen on me to make sure this year's show doesn't suck. As if I don't have anything else to do. To make it really interesting, I have known about this for a month, but I totally forgot until yesterday afternoon, when The Czarina called for a progress report. Oops.
6. BOTH of my bosses decided to take big, fat vacations this month. That means I can't talk to Dildo's boss about my jacked up schedule. (She's got me working 25 hours per week, which is WAY too much!) And I am responsible for a bunch of extra stuff while my FT boss is out of town. I have just given myself a headache, typing this.
7. I am now seeing my friends once every two weeks at best. I'm worried it will affect my friendships. And even though CN lives across the street, and we see each other a lot, the vast majority of our conversations involve me asking for favors: "Will you walk Sammy? Turn my sprinklers on? Get my mail? Bring me food? Put my clothes in the dryer?" Or a 5 minute "how was your day?" catch up. To make it extra fun, I'm now always too tired or busy for quality time. Of any kind.
8. Big Brothers Big Sisters called. They have a Little Sister picked out for me. (YAY!!) So I have to call them back and schedule a meeting with the Little. I think that will have to be in......July. Afterwards, I have to hang out with my Little for 4 hours per month. Somehow.
With all of this crap in my brain, I'm starting to forget things and mix up things. A lot of people have been saying to me, "Don't you remember? We talked about that the other day." I have also noticed that my brain is always in a fog. Like I can't focus on anything, because I'm trying to remember everything. I am so focused on "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" that I can't think about anything else. Like my blog. Or returning emails. Or my big project at work. My brain thinks, "Ok, you made it. You are where you're supposed to be. Good job!" -- and then it turns off. When it's supposed to be just getting started.
At the end of the day, it's the opposite problem: my brain won't turn off. And when your day ends at 10:00pm, dammit, you want some alone time with your tv and your dog. Which means you don't get to bed until 11pm. And then you stare at the ceiling until midnight. Ugh.
Don't forget, I'm wrapping up the month of June with a 4-day visit to The Czarina's, complete with the introduction of CN to my entire family and close family friends. Because that won't be stressful.
Awesome.
If my life were a video game, this is the part where I would intentionally jump off a cliff, because this level is too difficult. I need to go down a level. Back to sanity. Leave this one to the experts.
On the upside, my bank account makes me smile now. :)
Ugh. Ok, I have to go. I need some Excedrin....
Thursday, May 15, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
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.
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, January 17, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Dr. Kidney
See if I care that only two people commented on my last post. Because you know what? I don't care. Not one bit.
*sniff!*
Obviously, no one wants to read about Vermont or see how beautiful it is, so instead, I will talk about something else today.
*sniff!*
Today, you get to learn all about my pee. Ha! Take that! See what happens when you ignore my posts? You get gross-out medical posts. Just remember this the next time you choose not to leave comments.
Where should I start? Hmmm. I know. Let's start with the fact that this poster actually means something to me today:
Because for me, it is indeed a urinal. You see, doctors keep finding an excessive amount of protein in my urine, and they can't figure out why. So after 3 dip-stick tests and a catheter experience, they still can't figure out what's wrong. That means I have to go to the next level of testing: I will be spending all of Sunday filling up this weird-looking brown jug with my pee. The pee has to stay cold, so I will either keep it in a sealed bag in my fridge or in a styrofoam cooler. I haven't decided which is worse/grosser. Then, on Monday morning, I will drop off 24 hours worth of VB Pee at Dr. Kidney's (the urologist's) office so they can run more tests. Yippee. Nothing like saving your own pee to make the weekend exciting.
And when I bring in my jug o' pee on Monday, I will probably get more stares from the old men in the waiting room. Sitting there with their enlarged prostates, they were all looking at me like, "Why are YOU here?" -- It was very surreal.
Oh, and as for the PSA portion of this post, let me advise my female readers: If you ever have to go to a urologist's office and wait in their waiting room, bring something to read! My only reading options included: golfing magazines, parenting magazines, entrepreneurial magazines and brochures about overactive bladder medications. Ugh. Obviously, I was not the normal patient. Great.
Anyway, after peeing in yet another cup, even Dr. Kidney seemed baffled about it. "I just can't tell from this. It's probably nothing, but just to be sure...."
And that's when he introduced me to the weird brown jug.
Being both a librarian and paranoid, I of course looked up stuff on the Internet so I could attempt at diagnosing myself.
BAD IDEA.
According to what I've read, high levels of protein indicates kidney damage and is usually found in people with diabetes.
I know I don't have diabetes. It doesn't even run in my family. I mean, if I were diabetic, I'd know by now, right? I mean, I need to lose like, 15 pounds. That's not enough extra weight to give me adult-onset diabetes, right??? I'm not especially thirsty or anything.....
But maybe, just maybe, I have somehow damaged my kidneys. I did have a kidney infection once. And I think I got into a fight with my brother when I was little, and he punched me in the ol' kidneys.....no, wait. I think I punched him in the kidneys.
WHAT IF THERE IS REALLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME???
*Overactive Imagination presents VB with mental pictures of the Worst Case Scenario: "I'm sorry, Virginia, but not one of your family members or wonderful friends is a match. You have extremely difficult-to-match kidneys, in addition to have that incredibly rare kidney disorder for which there is no cure. You're going to have to be placed on a kidney transplant waiting list. At the bottom. It will probably take about 18 years for you to get the kidneys you need. Until then, we're just going to have to remove your breasts and eyeballs, and put you on this special medicine, which makes you go bald permanently and barf a lot. We're also going to have to start dialysis. You might want to think about moving back in with your mother so she can take care of you. It will be very painful and incredibly expensive. You've got insurance, right? You might want to call your provider about this." says Dr. Kidney.*
I have talked to dieticians, nurses, friends and hypochondriacs. (You think I am kidding....) I have heard everything from, "Just drink more water!" to "Are you sure you don't have diabetes?" One person is convinced it's the dietary supplement I'm on (biotin-- it's good for your hair and nails!). Another person is sure it's because I've lost weight. Yet another person thinks there's actually nothing wrong with me at all: "What if your body is just like that, and it's 'normal' for you?"
Of course, I'm convinced some crime from my past is catching up with me, in some sick & twisted karmic revenge. It's a result of the MRSA I had this time last year. It's a side effect from the vicodin. I smoked weird, kidney disease-laced pot in college. I've caught some kidney disease from one of my stupid ex-boyfriends. This is my body's reaction to my being mean to old people. Or this is my body's way of saying to me, "You eat entirely too much sugar! I tried to warn you, but now it's too late! You will never eat ice cream again! Hahahahahahahaha!!!"
Much to my dismay, MJ won't pee into the jug for me. I tried bribing her with pumpkin bread, but unfortunately, she doesn't like pumpkin. Some friend she is. I would pee for her. *grumble*
*sniff!*
Obviously, no one wants to read about Vermont or see how beautiful it is, so instead, I will talk about something else today.
*sniff!*
Today, you get to learn all about my pee. Ha! Take that! See what happens when you ignore my posts? You get gross-out medical posts. Just remember this the next time you choose not to leave comments.
Where should I start? Hmmm. I know. Let's start with the fact that this poster actually means something to me today:
Because for me, it is indeed a urinal. You see, doctors keep finding an excessive amount of protein in my urine, and they can't figure out why. So after 3 dip-stick tests and a catheter experience, they still can't figure out what's wrong. That means I have to go to the next level of testing: I will be spending all of Sunday filling up this weird-looking brown jug with my pee. The pee has to stay cold, so I will either keep it in a sealed bag in my fridge or in a styrofoam cooler. I haven't decided which is worse/grosser. Then, on Monday morning, I will drop off 24 hours worth of VB Pee at Dr. Kidney's (the urologist's) office so they can run more tests. Yippee. Nothing like saving your own pee to make the weekend exciting.
And when I bring in my jug o' pee on Monday, I will probably get more stares from the old men in the waiting room. Sitting there with their enlarged prostates, they were all looking at me like, "Why are YOU here?" -- It was very surreal.
Oh, and as for the PSA portion of this post, let me advise my female readers: If you ever have to go to a urologist's office and wait in their waiting room, bring something to read! My only reading options included: golfing magazines, parenting magazines, entrepreneurial magazines and brochures about overactive bladder medications. Ugh. Obviously, I was not the normal patient. Great.
Anyway, after peeing in yet another cup, even Dr. Kidney seemed baffled about it. "I just can't tell from this. It's probably nothing, but just to be sure...."
And that's when he introduced me to the weird brown jug.
Being both a librarian and paranoid, I of course looked up stuff on the Internet so I could attempt at diagnosing myself.
BAD IDEA.
According to what I've read, high levels of protein indicates kidney damage and is usually found in people with diabetes.
I know I don't have diabetes. It doesn't even run in my family. I mean, if I were diabetic, I'd know by now, right? I mean, I need to lose like, 15 pounds. That's not enough extra weight to give me adult-onset diabetes, right??? I'm not especially thirsty or anything.....
But maybe, just maybe, I have somehow damaged my kidneys. I did have a kidney infection once. And I think I got into a fight with my brother when I was little, and he punched me in the ol' kidneys.....no, wait. I think I punched him in the kidneys.
WHAT IF THERE IS REALLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME???
*Overactive Imagination presents VB with mental pictures of the Worst Case Scenario: "I'm sorry, Virginia, but not one of your family members or wonderful friends is a match. You have extremely difficult-to-match kidneys, in addition to have that incredibly rare kidney disorder for which there is no cure. You're going to have to be placed on a kidney transplant waiting list. At the bottom. It will probably take about 18 years for you to get the kidneys you need. Until then, we're just going to have to remove your breasts and eyeballs, and put you on this special medicine, which makes you go bald permanently and barf a lot. We're also going to have to start dialysis. You might want to think about moving back in with your mother so she can take care of you. It will be very painful and incredibly expensive. You've got insurance, right? You might want to call your provider about this." says Dr. Kidney.*
I have talked to dieticians, nurses, friends and hypochondriacs. (You think I am kidding....) I have heard everything from, "Just drink more water!" to "Are you sure you don't have diabetes?" One person is convinced it's the dietary supplement I'm on (biotin-- it's good for your hair and nails!). Another person is sure it's because I've lost weight. Yet another person thinks there's actually nothing wrong with me at all: "What if your body is just like that, and it's 'normal' for you?"
Of course, I'm convinced some crime from my past is catching up with me, in some sick & twisted karmic revenge. It's a result of the MRSA I had this time last year. It's a side effect from the vicodin. I smoked weird, kidney disease-laced pot in college. I've caught some kidney disease from one of my stupid ex-boyfriends. This is my body's reaction to my being mean to old people. Or this is my body's way of saying to me, "You eat entirely too much sugar! I tried to warn you, but now it's too late! You will never eat ice cream again! Hahahahahahahaha!!!"
Much to my dismay, MJ won't pee into the jug for me. I tried bribing her with pumpkin bread, but unfortunately, she doesn't like pumpkin. Some friend she is. I would pee for her. *grumble*
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thursday 13
Sorry, no cute little "Thursday 13" graphics for this one. I don't feel like fooling with it.
Oh, shut up. You'll still like it. It's about my love life. I know my readers are obsessed with my love life. Or, at least, you seem to be...........ok, maybe it's all in my head. Crap, you liked the Southern posts, too, didn't you? Well, bite me. This is my blog, and I'm sick of Southern posts. Today, I feel like whining. (And yes, you can skip this if you don't feel like reading. No offense taken, trust me. Tomorrow morning, I will probably be mortified when I remember I've posted this.)
Oh, shut up. You'll still like it. It's about my love life. I know my readers are obsessed with my love life. Or, at least, you seem to be...........ok, maybe it's all in my head. Crap, you liked the Southern posts, too, didn't you? Well, bite me. This is my blog, and I'm sick of Southern posts. Today, I feel like whining. (And yes, you can skip this if you don't feel like reading. No offense taken, trust me. Tomorrow morning, I will probably be mortified when I remember I've posted this.)
Thirteen Signs My Love Life is in Serious Trouble*
1. I am going to Virginia soon for The Czarina's annual party. She has invited a 40 year old guy to it, and she's going to try to fix us up. This is not bothering me as much as it should.
2. I have sex dreams. Lots of them. In fact, I haven't been having any other kind of dream lately. Even my subconscious is horny.
3. There is a little, nagging voice in the back of my head. It says, "Try Match again! Try eHarmony! Going on bad dates is better than no date at all!" "Yes, bad online dating stories are good for your blog, too!" says Stupidly Optimistic.
4. Now, when a divorcee tells me, "Trust me, being single is better than being divorced!", I think to myself, "Yes, but at least you got married. And had regular sex for a while. And you weren't alone for a while. Shit, you even got a wedding and a diamond. How is that worse??"
5. I no longer consider girls with boyfriends "single". They have boyfriends. Boyfriends become fiances and then husbands. These girls no longer have to look forward to evenings of..........Courtv. They no longer have to go EVERYWHERE alone. They have people who call them every night. They no longer understand me. They have gone to The Dark Side.
6. When I have extra time, I use hot rollers on my hair before going out. I consider this my "date hairdo", since it does take a lot of extra work. My friends used to say, "Hey, you look nice! Going on a date or something?" Now they say, "Wow. I've never seen your hair like that before."
7. I'm in one helluva vicious cycle: I think a big part of why I am single is because my self-confidence is crap, yet the longer I go without a date, the worse my self-confidence is. And I don't know how to make it stop.
8. The last man to feel me up? My gyno. A few months ago.
9. I was thinking, selling my eggs will at least ensure that my genetic code will be passed on........And being a surrogate mom is kinda like having your own kid.........
10. "Ooh! Maybe I'll meet a guy there!" is what I think whenever I go somewhere. Anywhere. The quickie mart. Or the public library. Or to my hairdresser's. Or the Clinique counter. Or to my mailbox.
11. I have spoken the following sentence, and was dead serious about it: "I think maybe I should look into moving to Richmond or Charlotte. There are more single men there, according to the U.S. Census."
12. I no longer want to travel anywhere. I have squashed the idea of starting to save up for a trip to Ireland, Moscow or South Africa. Sure, touring the world alone sounds like fun in theory, but when an angry Pygmy shoots a poisonous dart at your neck in the middle of the Belgian Congo, having an extra pair of hands around would be very convenient.
13. When friends say, "Hey, I know this guy....I'm pretty sure he's single. He's about 48. But I think he's missing an eye. Or does he wear dentures...? I can't remember. Anyway, would you like me to..." I interrupt: "YES! PLEASE! WHEN? Actually, you know what. Nevermind. You would only be wasting his time."
14. (Bonus) I can count the number of single girlfriends I have on one hand. Make that 2 fingers.
15 (Bonus Bonus) My dating status on myspace hasn't changed. Ever.
*sigh* I need help. You know those defibrillator things they use to shock people's hearts back to life when they've had a heart attack? I need one for my dating career. I think I've flatlined. And brain damage has started to set in.
*I would like to add, just for context's sake, that as I was typing this, I was consuming a horrifying amount of chocolate ice cream, complete with hot fudge sauce. I have now eaten so much, that I feel sick. Awesome. If there was an Olympic medal given out for the competitive sport of Pathetically Single, I think I could get at LEAST a bronze.
1. I am going to Virginia soon for The Czarina's annual party. She has invited a 40 year old guy to it, and she's going to try to fix us up. This is not bothering me as much as it should.
2. I have sex dreams. Lots of them. In fact, I haven't been having any other kind of dream lately. Even my subconscious is horny.
3. There is a little, nagging voice in the back of my head. It says, "Try Match again! Try eHarmony! Going on bad dates is better than no date at all!" "Yes, bad online dating stories are good for your blog, too!" says Stupidly Optimistic.
4. Now, when a divorcee tells me, "Trust me, being single is better than being divorced!", I think to myself, "Yes, but at least you got married. And had regular sex for a while. And you weren't alone for a while. Shit, you even got a wedding and a diamond. How is that worse??"
5. I no longer consider girls with boyfriends "single". They have boyfriends. Boyfriends become fiances and then husbands. These girls no longer have to look forward to evenings of..........Courtv. They no longer have to go EVERYWHERE alone. They have people who call them every night. They no longer understand me. They have gone to The Dark Side.
6. When I have extra time, I use hot rollers on my hair before going out. I consider this my "date hairdo", since it does take a lot of extra work. My friends used to say, "Hey, you look nice! Going on a date or something?" Now they say, "Wow. I've never seen your hair like that before."
7. I'm in one helluva vicious cycle: I think a big part of why I am single is because my self-confidence is crap, yet the longer I go without a date, the worse my self-confidence is. And I don't know how to make it stop.
8. The last man to feel me up? My gyno. A few months ago.
9. I was thinking, selling my eggs will at least ensure that my genetic code will be passed on........And being a surrogate mom is kinda like having your own kid.........
10. "Ooh! Maybe I'll meet a guy there!" is what I think whenever I go somewhere. Anywhere. The quickie mart. Or the public library. Or to my hairdresser's. Or the Clinique counter. Or to my mailbox.
11. I have spoken the following sentence, and was dead serious about it: "I think maybe I should look into moving to Richmond or Charlotte. There are more single men there, according to the U.S. Census."
12. I no longer want to travel anywhere. I have squashed the idea of starting to save up for a trip to Ireland, Moscow or South Africa. Sure, touring the world alone sounds like fun in theory, but when an angry Pygmy shoots a poisonous dart at your neck in the middle of the Belgian Congo, having an extra pair of hands around would be very convenient.
13. When friends say, "Hey, I know this guy....I'm pretty sure he's single. He's about 48. But I think he's missing an eye. Or does he wear dentures...? I can't remember. Anyway, would you like me to..." I interrupt: "YES! PLEASE! WHEN? Actually, you know what. Nevermind. You would only be wasting his time."
14. (Bonus) I can count the number of single girlfriends I have on one hand. Make that 2 fingers.
15 (Bonus Bonus) My dating status on myspace hasn't changed. Ever.
*sigh* I need help. You know those defibrillator things they use to shock people's hearts back to life when they've had a heart attack? I need one for my dating career. I think I've flatlined. And brain damage has started to set in.
*I would like to add, just for context's sake, that as I was typing this, I was consuming a horrifying amount of chocolate ice cream, complete with hot fudge sauce. I have now eaten so much, that I feel sick. Awesome. If there was an Olympic medal given out for the competitive sport of Pathetically Single, I think I could get at LEAST a bronze.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
No Whining Zone
Well, today's post was going to consist of me whining about
A) my cold that won't go away *cough! hack! sniff*
B) the fact that Toby woke me up at 5:15 this morning to bark at nothing, then jump on my face and stick his tongue up my nose
C) how Hot Neighbor seems about as interested in me as he does the salmon he rejected
D) my hormonally-influenced state of mind which is 98% positive I will never go on a date again and will instead wither up and die alone, with no one other than my mother and dogs to mourn me
E) what on earth I'm going to do when K moves out in 10 days, as this will leave me in somewhat of a financially challenging situation.
However, due to
A) the tragedy at Virginia Tech
B) the war in the Middle East
C) my deep desire to retain my readers
D) the hatred I possess for feelings of self-loathing
E) my recent discovery that one of my ex-boyfriends is dating a girl who makes him wear bow-ties that match the fabric of her dress (I'll let you guess as to who I'm referring to), a concept that makes me snort with laughter
I feel today is just not a good day to whine about my life. So this post will instead consist of warm fuzzy feelings, butterflies, laughing babies, glitter and unicorns. With sprinkles on top and spirit fingers to boot.
Ok, not so much. But this is a Whine-Free-Zone. Time to suck it up, Chuck. It ain't that bad. Everything will work out just fine, yadda yadda. Among my favorite ways to feel better about myself are to
A) watch Courtv -- no matter how bad my life is, at least I didn't get arrested today
B) eat ice cream
C) do something nice for other people
D) exercise
E) bitch
F) do something productive
"E" is just not an option today, as already discussed. My entire upper body is currently reminding me how I have already checked off choice "D" from this list -- thank you, Tuesday Night Meathead Weight Class Instructor Man. "A" and "B" can be taken care of after dinner tonight. Which leaves me with "C" and "F". Oh wait, I'm blogging. That definitely doesn't fall under the "F" category. I am left with "C".
CMK emailed me the other day to inform me that she has nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award. Aww, so sweet. I am very flattered. And confused. Mostly because there is very little thinking involved in my blog writing. I usually just kind of log on and the crap starts spewing from my brain. Better descriptors for my blog would be
A) anal-retentive (as evidenced by my obnoctious over-usage of lists today)
B) whiny
C) venty (is that a word? perhaps "bitchy" would be better?)
D) silly
E) self-absorbed
F) pathetic
So the deal is, now I have to nominate 5 people for this award. Which is difficult, as I try my best to read about 85 different blogs at last count. (So in case you are wondering, this is why I will comment-bomb you once every 2 months, and then will seemingly disappear on your ass! Ah! Lightbulb! Yeah, so spare me the guilt trip, alright?) In keeping with the theme of this award (and I am a girl who is both a rules-follower AND a lover of all things themed), these are the blogs which make me think about stuff. I will catch myself pondering their writing while driving, showering or walking on the treadmill at the gym. And let me tell ya what -- to get my somewhat ADD-frazzled mind to be thinking about something more than once in a day is quite a feat for any writer! Without further ado:
Oh crap. My stupid guilt just kicked in. Inside my little brain are the following sentences:
But this will hurt people's feelings!
Maybe you should just say thanks to CMK and just conveniently "forget" to nominate!
The main reason you read most blogs is because they are funny, not because they make you think! You are unqualified to make this call! A call that will hurt people's feelings, no less!
Perhaps you can break just this one, tiny rule and nominate everyone?
Shut it, brain! Stop thinking! Just do the assignment and be done with it! No one is going to hate you for this. Ok? Ok. *ahem* In alphabetical order:
1. Awkward Things I Say to Girls -- because Justin gives me a peek into the male mind...and I am starting to think I understand men. Ok, who am I kidding. But I did just use the word "think" when talking about this blog, so yeah. That counts.
2. Anne's blog -- Um, I need Anne to help me with this one, because I can't remember if she is keeping it a secret or not....her anonymity was discovered, so she changed the URL, and I don't know if her blog is secret now or what...anyway, I will not link to it here until I get her permission. My point is, Anne has cancer and she is wicked awesome. She has opened my eyes to what it's like to have major health problems, the delicious flavor combination that is artificial grape flavoring and pickles AND keeps reminding me of how wonderful life can be, even when it seemingly sucks. Now THAT is food for thought. I love you, Anne. I think about you all the time. You just don't know it. But if you looked outside your living room window, you would see me with binoculars, watching you from across the street. Kidding.
3. Gaijin Girl -- she is a newlywed, and she and her hubs are spending their first year of marriage living in Japan, teaching English to Japanese people. So. Cool. And inspiring. This blog makes me think about what it would be like to do that. And kinda makes me want to do it! Only, sans husband, obviously. Maybe I could bring Sammy...? (No, I am not kidding, actually. I have always wanted to do that. And the older I get, the more appealing this idea sounds to me...shhh! Don't tell my little sister, Smurf. She would cry. Don't be surprised if I up and move to Russia one day, peeps. You have been warned.)
4. Jennster -- Is this one a cop-out because it's so popular? Whatever, I don't care. These are MY picks, people! MINE! Ster is (almost) married to a wonderful man, and she has a little boy. She is the coolest -- funny, smart, passionate and silly. Who doesn't like her blog?? Probably crack smokers. That's about all I can come up with. Maybe the Pope. I don't really see him being into it, either. Sorry, Ster. She gives me a glimpse into what it's like to be a mom, which is a pretty outrageous daydream for me, considering the current state of my love life. She pretty much covers all kinds of thinking situations: Mom issues, wedding issues, family issues, friends issues, work issues, being a woman issues, politics......you never know what you're gonna get over there. But you will get lots of things that make you think. Or snort your drink through your nose. It depends.
5. Ok, I really wanted to put Postsecret in this slot, as it is probably THE Thinking Blogger Blog, but I don't think the guy who runs it has time to nominate other people. So due to his EXTREME popularity and busy lifestyle, he has unwittingly eliminated himself from this sort of thing. Too bad, so sad. What a drawback for having what is probably the #1 blog on the internet. Besides Dooce, maybe. And I don't read that blog, so obviously she's out, too. Instead, in this slot I will place....I will place.....crap, this is hard. You see, most of the blogs I read are read because they make me laugh, like Kevin Charnas or Sam's Stories. See, they think up the funny stuff, I just laugh at it. There's not really any thinking involved when you are laughing at fart stories. A lot of the other blogs I read are for my own sanity, ie, they remind me that I am not the only 28 year old woman who is still single (THANK YOU, Charming, MJ, BCOL and all the other single girl bloggers out there!).
Wow, how's that for stalling??
Instead, I will have to put The Bad Girl's Guide here in slot #5. Crap, now it's no longer an alphabetical list. Dangit, I am not fixing that problem. You just have to let some things go. Oh, so Bad Girl's Guide. Yes. Vixen writes fantastic columns (posts? I dunno, they read like columns) about all things relationship-oriented. And she's always spot-on in her advice. Her topics are timely, she's not afraid to bring up taboo topics (which really appeals to the pervert in me) and she just reeks of womanly confidence and power. She shoots from the hip and is very fair in her views. *sigh* Women like her make me proud to be in the same gender.
Alright, peeps. I know that the people I just nominated read my blog every day (RIGHT???? Because it kicks ass!!!) so they need to follow these steps now before I mail them their brain-shaped statuette of genuine gold plastic, which has a retail value of approximately $8.95:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog)
If you were not nominated, please do not go home and cry into your pillow, because
A) this causes me to feel the horrible urge to make fun of you and/or beat you to a bloody pulp for being a wuss
B) if I didn't like your blog, I would not read it in the first place
C) this meme is currently going around at about the same rate as the common cold, and I'm sure someone will soon nominate you. I mean, I was nominated, for Pete's sake. Come on. Obviously not the most stringent list of qualificatons. Be patient, little one.
D) There were only 5 slots. FIVE. I read a LOT of blogs, people.
E) I didn't feel comfortable nominating blogs of people I know/practically know in real life, as I thought it might look bad/biased. Likewise, I didn't nominate the blogs that serve mainly to entertain me with hilarious stories. This isn't a popularity contest, it's a nomination for stuff that makes me think. So stop crying and smile because this means either
1) you are lucky enough to know me in real life, or at least know what I look like
2) you are extremely funny
And now that my obsessive list-making has reached a new level of absurdity, I will say goodbye for today.
* This is my oh-so-subtle attempt at getting my readers to submit optimistic stories about how they didn't meet their spouses until they were 32 and cynical and guarded and overweight and had totally given up all hope of ever finding true love before they were 6 feet under, only to randomly find the love of their life hiding under a rock, inexplicably, and now they are living happily ever after and would like to share their story and remind me that hanging myself over a curtain rod is not the only solution to my problem, but instead I should start looking under some rocks. Or begin to write sentences that are not run-ons. *ahem*
A) my cold that won't go away *cough! hack! sniff*
B) the fact that Toby woke me up at 5:15 this morning to bark at nothing, then jump on my face and stick his tongue up my nose
C) how Hot Neighbor seems about as interested in me as he does the salmon he rejected
D) my hormonally-influenced state of mind which is 98% positive I will never go on a date again and will instead wither up and die alone, with no one other than my mother and dogs to mourn me
E) what on earth I'm going to do when K moves out in 10 days, as this will leave me in somewhat of a financially challenging situation.
However, due to
A) the tragedy at Virginia Tech
B) the war in the Middle East
C) my deep desire to retain my readers
D) the hatred I possess for feelings of self-loathing
E) my recent discovery that one of my ex-boyfriends is dating a girl who makes him wear bow-ties that match the fabric of her dress (I'll let you guess as to who I'm referring to), a concept that makes me snort with laughter
I feel today is just not a good day to whine about my life. So this post will instead consist of warm fuzzy feelings, butterflies, laughing babies, glitter and unicorns. With sprinkles on top and spirit fingers to boot.
Ok, not so much. But this is a Whine-Free-Zone. Time to suck it up, Chuck. It ain't that bad. Everything will work out just fine, yadda yadda. Among my favorite ways to feel better about myself are to
A) watch Courtv -- no matter how bad my life is, at least I didn't get arrested today
B) eat ice cream
C) do something nice for other people
D) exercise
E) bitch
F) do something productive
"E" is just not an option today, as already discussed. My entire upper body is currently reminding me how I have already checked off choice "D" from this list -- thank you, Tuesday Night Meathead Weight Class Instructor Man. "A" and "B" can be taken care of after dinner tonight. Which leaves me with "C" and "F". Oh wait, I'm blogging. That definitely doesn't fall under the "F" category. I am left with "C".
CMK emailed me the other day to inform me that she has nominated me for a Thinking Blogger Award. Aww, so sweet. I am very flattered. And confused. Mostly because there is very little thinking involved in my blog writing. I usually just kind of log on and the crap starts spewing from my brain. Better descriptors for my blog would be
A) anal-retentive (as evidenced by my obnoctious over-usage of lists today)
B) whiny
C) venty (is that a word? perhaps "bitchy" would be better?)
D) silly
E) self-absorbed
F) pathetic
So the deal is, now I have to nominate 5 people for this award. Which is difficult, as I try my best to read about 85 different blogs at last count. (So in case you are wondering, this is why I will comment-bomb you once every 2 months, and then will seemingly disappear on your ass! Ah! Lightbulb! Yeah, so spare me the guilt trip, alright?) In keeping with the theme of this award (and I am a girl who is both a rules-follower AND a lover of all things themed), these are the blogs which make me think about stuff. I will catch myself pondering their writing while driving, showering or walking on the treadmill at the gym. And let me tell ya what -- to get my somewhat ADD-frazzled mind to be thinking about something more than once in a day is quite a feat for any writer! Without further ado:
Oh crap. My stupid guilt just kicked in. Inside my little brain are the following sentences:
But this will hurt people's feelings!
Maybe you should just say thanks to CMK and just conveniently "forget" to nominate!
The main reason you read most blogs is because they are funny, not because they make you think! You are unqualified to make this call! A call that will hurt people's feelings, no less!
Perhaps you can break just this one, tiny rule and nominate everyone?
Shut it, brain! Stop thinking! Just do the assignment and be done with it! No one is going to hate you for this. Ok? Ok. *ahem* In alphabetical order:
1. Awkward Things I Say to Girls -- because Justin gives me a peek into the male mind...and I am starting to think I understand men. Ok, who am I kidding. But I did just use the word "think" when talking about this blog, so yeah. That counts.
2. Anne's blog -- Um, I need Anne to help me with this one, because I can't remember if she is keeping it a secret or not....her anonymity was discovered, so she changed the URL, and I don't know if her blog is secret now or what...anyway, I will not link to it here until I get her permission. My point is, Anne has cancer and she is wicked awesome. She has opened my eyes to what it's like to have major health problems, the delicious flavor combination that is artificial grape flavoring and pickles AND keeps reminding me of how wonderful life can be, even when it seemingly sucks. Now THAT is food for thought. I love you, Anne. I think about you all the time. You just don't know it. But if you looked outside your living room window, you would see me with binoculars, watching you from across the street. Kidding.
3. Gaijin Girl -- she is a newlywed, and she and her hubs are spending their first year of marriage living in Japan, teaching English to Japanese people. So. Cool. And inspiring. This blog makes me think about what it would be like to do that. And kinda makes me want to do it! Only, sans husband, obviously. Maybe I could bring Sammy...? (No, I am not kidding, actually. I have always wanted to do that. And the older I get, the more appealing this idea sounds to me...shhh! Don't tell my little sister, Smurf. She would cry. Don't be surprised if I up and move to Russia one day, peeps. You have been warned.)
4. Jennster -- Is this one a cop-out because it's so popular? Whatever, I don't care. These are MY picks, people! MINE! Ster is (almost) married to a wonderful man, and she has a little boy. She is the coolest -- funny, smart, passionate and silly. Who doesn't like her blog?? Probably crack smokers. That's about all I can come up with. Maybe the Pope. I don't really see him being into it, either. Sorry, Ster. She gives me a glimpse into what it's like to be a mom, which is a pretty outrageous daydream for me, considering the current state of my love life. She pretty much covers all kinds of thinking situations: Mom issues, wedding issues, family issues, friends issues, work issues, being a woman issues, politics......you never know what you're gonna get over there. But you will get lots of things that make you think. Or snort your drink through your nose. It depends.
5. Ok, I really wanted to put Postsecret in this slot, as it is probably THE Thinking Blogger Blog, but I don't think the guy who runs it has time to nominate other people. So due to his EXTREME popularity and busy lifestyle, he has unwittingly eliminated himself from this sort of thing. Too bad, so sad. What a drawback for having what is probably the #1 blog on the internet. Besides Dooce, maybe. And I don't read that blog, so obviously she's out, too. Instead, in this slot I will place....I will place.....crap, this is hard. You see, most of the blogs I read are read because they make me laugh, like Kevin Charnas or Sam's Stories. See, they think up the funny stuff, I just laugh at it. There's not really any thinking involved when you are laughing at fart stories. A lot of the other blogs I read are for my own sanity, ie, they remind me that I am not the only 28 year old woman who is still single (THANK YOU, Charming, MJ, BCOL and all the other single girl bloggers out there!).
Wow, how's that for stalling??
Instead, I will have to put The Bad Girl's Guide here in slot #5. Crap, now it's no longer an alphabetical list. Dangit, I am not fixing that problem. You just have to let some things go. Oh, so Bad Girl's Guide. Yes. Vixen writes fantastic columns (posts? I dunno, they read like columns) about all things relationship-oriented. And she's always spot-on in her advice. Her topics are timely, she's not afraid to bring up taboo topics (which really appeals to the pervert in me) and she just reeks of womanly confidence and power. She shoots from the hip and is very fair in her views. *sigh* Women like her make me proud to be in the same gender.
Alright, peeps. I know that the people I just nominated read my blog every day (RIGHT???? Because it kicks ass!!!) so they need to follow these steps now before I mail them their brain-shaped statuette of genuine gold plastic, which has a retail value of approximately $8.95:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog)
If you were not nominated, please do not go home and cry into your pillow, because
A) this causes me to feel the horrible urge to make fun of you and/or beat you to a bloody pulp for being a wuss
B) if I didn't like your blog, I would not read it in the first place
C) this meme is currently going around at about the same rate as the common cold, and I'm sure someone will soon nominate you. I mean, I was nominated, for Pete's sake. Come on. Obviously not the most stringent list of qualificatons. Be patient, little one.
D) There were only 5 slots. FIVE. I read a LOT of blogs, people.
E) I didn't feel comfortable nominating blogs of people I know/practically know in real life, as I thought it might look bad/biased. Likewise, I didn't nominate the blogs that serve mainly to entertain me with hilarious stories. This isn't a popularity contest, it's a nomination for stuff that makes me think. So stop crying and smile because this means either
1) you are lucky enough to know me in real life, or at least know what I look like
2) you are extremely funny
And now that my obsessive list-making has reached a new level of absurdity, I will say goodbye for today.
* This is my oh-so-subtle attempt at getting my readers to submit optimistic stories about how they didn't meet their spouses until they were 32 and cynical and guarded and overweight and had totally given up all hope of ever finding true love before they were 6 feet under, only to randomly find the love of their life hiding under a rock, inexplicably, and now they are living happily ever after and would like to share their story and remind me that hanging myself over a curtain rod is not the only solution to my problem, but instead I should start looking under some rocks. Or begin to write sentences that are not run-ons. *ahem*
Monday, April 16, 2007
Hormones & Nyquil
That's right, another ADD post from VB. Enjoy, readers.
So, I am having MAJOR cabin fever today. I called in sick and have been at home all. day. long. And I really am sick (bad cold), so I would feel guilty going anywhere, even though now, at dinnertime, I am feeling a little better. I would really like to go to Target and Petsmart, actually.....but alas, the guilt is stopping me. That and the fact that putting my contacts in and makeup on at this point in the day sounds like entirely too much work.
I haven't talked to anyone today, either, other than a brief conversation with The Czarina, so I am starved for human contact. Hence, post #2 for today. If I can't talk to anyone in real life, I might as well talk to myself in the virtual world.
My hormones are raging. And not in the 13 year-old boy way. I am poster child for PMS. Don't worry, male readers, I'm not going into gory detail. Sheesh. But I am giving examples of my hormone-induced behavior:
1. Yelling at my dogs for wanting me to throw their squeaky toy AGAIN. (Right, because they are doing it to annoy me....In reality, we all know they are just being dogs.) Seriously, my dogs have no idea that they are risking their lives by whining and nudging me right now. Their toy is under the desk, they can't reach it and I do NOT feel like getting it for the 813th time. There needs to be a Canine Homicide Prevention Hotline. Like 1-800-SAV-FIDO or something. I would call it right now.
2. It is taking every ounce of my willpower right now to NOT get up, turn on the oven, and bake a chocolate cake, frost it with chocolate icing and eat the whole goddamn thing before I go to bed. It is terrifying to me how delicious that sounds. I want chocolate cake more than anything in the whole world right now. Every cell in my body is crying out for it.
3. When my alarm went off this morning, I felt like I had been drugged. Seriously, my body was like, "Whaaaa??? Awake??? You must be kidding. We just got hit by a mack truck and then someone put roofies in the diet coke last night. Anything in a vertical position is totally out of the question at this time. Try again at, say, noon."
Then again, it could have been the Nyquil. Nyquil effs me up pretty bad.
Excuse me while I bludgeon my pets with my shoe.....ok, back.
No, I didn't hit my dogs. I got the stupid blue ball for them. Jaysus their lives revolve around having access to the "right" toy. The red squeaky is apparently "so" early afternoon. At 8pm, they want the blue ball. Nothing else will do. Aaaaaargh.
Where was I? Oh yes, Nyquil.
So I don't think I'm going to take it tonight. I will just toss and turn and cough. Because I really don't like that drugged feeling in the morning, and the dreams are getting very VERY strange. Not bad, just weird.
Nyquil Dream #1: I dreamt I sold my cute, little new house and bought a BIG, old, beat up '70s Tudor-style ranch. How very Brady Bunch of me. Anyway, the house needed a LOT of work done to it, but this decision made total sense to me for some reason, despite the fact that the vast majority of the interior was dark wood paneling. The majority of the dream involved my explaining the decision to several people -- friends, family, coworkers -- and them all agreeing with me. Apparently, Dream VB has some fantastic persuasive skills. I was attempting to throw a housewarming party in this P.O.S. house as I was convincing everyone this was a great idea.
Nyquil Dream #2: I was with a group of people (I can't remember exactly who, but I think my little sister and MJ were there) and we were in this sort of mall/theme park place. Imagine an indoor theme park. Which looks like a mall. I told you it was weird. So we are in an ice cream parlor, enjoying some frozen treats, when I excuse myself from the rest of the group to use the bathroom. I walk into the bathroom.....to find not a regular American public restroom, but a large room which serves as someone's home theater. Only this person must be a kid, because it's decorated with bean bag chairs and bright colors--very kiddie sort of decorating style. There are at least a dozen tiers of seating levels, each level having 3-4 purple couches and a couple of bean bag chairs on it. So this room seats like 200 people. And the seating goes from floor to ceiling, so the room is very tall. I'd say the height would be about 50 feet or so. So, I have totally forgotten that I have to pee because I'm just staring in awe of this room. I turn around, expecting to see some kind of gigantic movie screen for the movies. I was disappointed to find only a 33" television set, embedded into the wall. Woe to the people who are sitting at the back of the room! "Well, that's a crappy tv for a room like this," I thought. Then I went to find the bathroom. It was just a half bath. How ironic, considering the number of people the room can hold.
Oh, I have a Hot Neighbor update. Well, not so much as an update as more depressing evidence that things are never going to happen between us and I will wither away into an old lady, living alone with her dogs and lusting after her even older wheelchair-bound neighbor. In 30 years, he and I will probably still be having awkward conversations in the driveways, the only difference is that we will be sharing stories of our arthritis or the latest AARP news, rather than our weekend plans. *sigh*
Ok, I have a point, I promise. So I decided to make some salmon this past weekend (I promise I will post the recipe on Virginia Cooks). I was craving it and I really felt like cooking. I invited MJ and KT over to eat with me. KT couldn't go, so I had an extra piece of salmon. I began to cook it anyway, and since it was nice outside, I had my front windows open. I heard HN come home. Then I heard lots of commotion and the voices of little children. I went out to my front porch (see? I'm trying!) to find him playing with a puppy and talking to his two little girls. Too cute. The puppy looked like a fluffy black cotton ball and was about the size of my hand. Awwww. Even cuter. I asked him about the puppy. It turns out his ex-wife had bought it and he was dog-sitting for her. So he had kids and a puppy for the weekend. He wasn't too happy about it. He made a comment about how the puppy was tearing up his house. I offered to let him borrow some carpet spray, and he gladly took me up on the offer.
I came back out with the spray, handed it to him and told him that I had some extra salmon if he was interested (see? I'm trying!). He said that sounded great, but he wished I had told him earlier. I said I could make up a plate and bring it over. Just then, a pizza delivery guy pulled up to his house. "Yeah, I just ordered a pizza. But thanks anyway! I'll bring the spray back over later."
Can you believe he would rather eat crappy Domino's rather than baked salmon with a homemade, spicy citrus sauce??? WTF??? I mean, pizza can be eaten later. It keeps for days. It's great for breakfast. What guy would rather eat pizza than a homecooked meal served up by a cute (if I do say so myself) next-door neighbor??? Total bullshit, if you ask me.
I don't even think he knows my name. Yesterday, he was leaving to go somewhere and he said, "Hey, Neighbor!" Aaargh. Why do I waste my time even thinking about him? It's time to accept the fact that it's never going to happen.
I am doomed to live and die alone. It's just not going to happen for me. Soon, I will be at that age where all my relatives start asking me, "So, Virginia, why aren't you married?" and I can reply with, "Because no one has ever asked me." Waaaaaaaah! Woe is me!!!!!!
I have been having thoughts like this since Saturday. More evidence (Example #4, actually) of how freaking hormonal I am right now. I always have absurdly negative thoughts when I'm PMSing.
Maybe when K moves out at the end of the month, I can just start walking around my house totally naked and "accidentally" leave the blinds up. You think he'd remember my name then? LOL
In other boy news....the Rat Pack has invited me, MJ and KT to visit them. Woot!! I guess they take an annual trip up to Vermont and hang out at a lakehouse every summer. Usually, it's guys only, but I guess we are so cool, we made the cut this year. So we are going up sometime later this summer--June or July. And no, I don't know if The Magician is going or not. That's not why I'm going. Besides, he's also on the list of Men Who are Obviously Not Interested in Me.
Dammit, that list is getting long. Luckily, I don't have to put Julian McMahon on there, because he doesn't know me. So technically speaking, he could be extremely interested in me and not even know it. Sweet.
Oh crap. Haven't told you about my weekend yet. Let's see. Not super eventful. Friday night I was at this very nasty, beat up old bar, full of old people who were shagging. Seriously, it smelled like an ashtray in there and we were the only people in the bar not receiving social security checks in the mail. It was on the way to the next place we had to go, and E wanted a drink ASAP, so we went there first. E got into an argument with an old guy, which was pretty funny. She was getting belligerent almost. I didn't feel well for most of the night, and ended up going home pretty early.
Saturday night I went bowling with MJ, my friend Mr. Bill and a bunch of other people. The bowling balls were greased up with something, which of course, led to several jokes and much giggling. I suck at bowling. I think I bowled like a 39 on the first game. (I think this was the first time I've gone bowling in at least 5 years, so cut me some slack!) I did get 2 strikes on the next game, though. Just had to warm up, you know.
The rest of the weekend was spent watching tv on my couch, because I felt like crap most of the time. I saw the CUTEST movie ever. And if you have kids, they can watch it with you, because it's rated PG. It's called Little Manhattan and it's about a 5th grade boy who falls in love with this little girl in his karate class. Seriously, this movie is too cute. Plus, it has the actress who plays Miranda on "Sex and the City" in it. Love her.
I wish I wasn't sick right now so I could go to the gym. I am ready to lose more weight. I have been stuck at 15 pounds for like a month now. But I didn't feel well all last week, either--my cold actually started last week. I can feel the fat creeping back on....which I guess means it wouldn't be THAT big of a deal if I went out and got one little piece of chocolate cake real quick...this place called Rush's (a local fast food chain) has this thing called a Hot Fudge Cake. There is ice cream involved. It's pretty damn good. And I really need to get outside of these four walls.....
So, I am having MAJOR cabin fever today. I called in sick and have been at home all. day. long. And I really am sick (bad cold), so I would feel guilty going anywhere, even though now, at dinnertime, I am feeling a little better. I would really like to go to Target and Petsmart, actually.....but alas, the guilt is stopping me. That and the fact that putting my contacts in and makeup on at this point in the day sounds like entirely too much work.
I haven't talked to anyone today, either, other than a brief conversation with The Czarina, so I am starved for human contact. Hence, post #2 for today. If I can't talk to anyone in real life, I might as well talk to myself in the virtual world.
My hormones are raging. And not in the 13 year-old boy way. I am poster child for PMS. Don't worry, male readers, I'm not going into gory detail. Sheesh. But I am giving examples of my hormone-induced behavior:
1. Yelling at my dogs for wanting me to throw their squeaky toy AGAIN. (Right, because they are doing it to annoy me....In reality, we all know they are just being dogs.) Seriously, my dogs have no idea that they are risking their lives by whining and nudging me right now. Their toy is under the desk, they can't reach it and I do NOT feel like getting it for the 813th time. There needs to be a Canine Homicide Prevention Hotline. Like 1-800-SAV-FIDO or something. I would call it right now.
2. It is taking every ounce of my willpower right now to NOT get up, turn on the oven, and bake a chocolate cake, frost it with chocolate icing and eat the whole goddamn thing before I go to bed. It is terrifying to me how delicious that sounds. I want chocolate cake more than anything in the whole world right now. Every cell in my body is crying out for it.
3. When my alarm went off this morning, I felt like I had been drugged. Seriously, my body was like, "Whaaaa??? Awake??? You must be kidding. We just got hit by a mack truck and then someone put roofies in the diet coke last night. Anything in a vertical position is totally out of the question at this time. Try again at, say, noon."
Then again, it could have been the Nyquil. Nyquil effs me up pretty bad.
Excuse me while I bludgeon my pets with my shoe.....ok, back.
No, I didn't hit my dogs. I got the stupid blue ball for them. Jaysus their lives revolve around having access to the "right" toy. The red squeaky is apparently "so" early afternoon. At 8pm, they want the blue ball. Nothing else will do. Aaaaaargh.
Where was I? Oh yes, Nyquil.
So I don't think I'm going to take it tonight. I will just toss and turn and cough. Because I really don't like that drugged feeling in the morning, and the dreams are getting very VERY strange. Not bad, just weird.
Nyquil Dream #1: I dreamt I sold my cute, little new house and bought a BIG, old, beat up '70s Tudor-style ranch. How very Brady Bunch of me. Anyway, the house needed a LOT of work done to it, but this decision made total sense to me for some reason, despite the fact that the vast majority of the interior was dark wood paneling. The majority of the dream involved my explaining the decision to several people -- friends, family, coworkers -- and them all agreeing with me. Apparently, Dream VB has some fantastic persuasive skills. I was attempting to throw a housewarming party in this P.O.S. house as I was convincing everyone this was a great idea.
Nyquil Dream #2: I was with a group of people (I can't remember exactly who, but I think my little sister and MJ were there) and we were in this sort of mall/theme park place. Imagine an indoor theme park. Which looks like a mall. I told you it was weird. So we are in an ice cream parlor, enjoying some frozen treats, when I excuse myself from the rest of the group to use the bathroom. I walk into the bathroom.....to find not a regular American public restroom, but a large room which serves as someone's home theater. Only this person must be a kid, because it's decorated with bean bag chairs and bright colors--very kiddie sort of decorating style. There are at least a dozen tiers of seating levels, each level having 3-4 purple couches and a couple of bean bag chairs on it. So this room seats like 200 people. And the seating goes from floor to ceiling, so the room is very tall. I'd say the height would be about 50 feet or so. So, I have totally forgotten that I have to pee because I'm just staring in awe of this room. I turn around, expecting to see some kind of gigantic movie screen for the movies. I was disappointed to find only a 33" television set, embedded into the wall. Woe to the people who are sitting at the back of the room! "Well, that's a crappy tv for a room like this," I thought. Then I went to find the bathroom. It was just a half bath. How ironic, considering the number of people the room can hold.
Oh, I have a Hot Neighbor update. Well, not so much as an update as more depressing evidence that things are never going to happen between us and I will wither away into an old lady, living alone with her dogs and lusting after her even older wheelchair-bound neighbor. In 30 years, he and I will probably still be having awkward conversations in the driveways, the only difference is that we will be sharing stories of our arthritis or the latest AARP news, rather than our weekend plans. *sigh*
Ok, I have a point, I promise. So I decided to make some salmon this past weekend (I promise I will post the recipe on Virginia Cooks). I was craving it and I really felt like cooking. I invited MJ and KT over to eat with me. KT couldn't go, so I had an extra piece of salmon. I began to cook it anyway, and since it was nice outside, I had my front windows open. I heard HN come home. Then I heard lots of commotion and the voices of little children. I went out to my front porch (see? I'm trying!) to find him playing with a puppy and talking to his two little girls. Too cute. The puppy looked like a fluffy black cotton ball and was about the size of my hand. Awwww. Even cuter. I asked him about the puppy. It turns out his ex-wife had bought it and he was dog-sitting for her. So he had kids and a puppy for the weekend. He wasn't too happy about it. He made a comment about how the puppy was tearing up his house. I offered to let him borrow some carpet spray, and he gladly took me up on the offer.
I came back out with the spray, handed it to him and told him that I had some extra salmon if he was interested (see? I'm trying!). He said that sounded great, but he wished I had told him earlier. I said I could make up a plate and bring it over. Just then, a pizza delivery guy pulled up to his house. "Yeah, I just ordered a pizza. But thanks anyway! I'll bring the spray back over later."
Can you believe he would rather eat crappy Domino's rather than baked salmon with a homemade, spicy citrus sauce??? WTF??? I mean, pizza can be eaten later. It keeps for days. It's great for breakfast. What guy would rather eat pizza than a homecooked meal served up by a cute (if I do say so myself) next-door neighbor??? Total bullshit, if you ask me.
I don't even think he knows my name. Yesterday, he was leaving to go somewhere and he said, "Hey, Neighbor!" Aaargh. Why do I waste my time even thinking about him? It's time to accept the fact that it's never going to happen.
I am doomed to live and die alone. It's just not going to happen for me. Soon, I will be at that age where all my relatives start asking me, "So, Virginia, why aren't you married?" and I can reply with, "Because no one has ever asked me." Waaaaaaaah! Woe is me!!!!!!
I have been having thoughts like this since Saturday. More evidence (Example #4, actually) of how freaking hormonal I am right now. I always have absurdly negative thoughts when I'm PMSing.
Maybe when K moves out at the end of the month, I can just start walking around my house totally naked and "accidentally" leave the blinds up. You think he'd remember my name then? LOL
In other boy news....the Rat Pack has invited me, MJ and KT to visit them. Woot!! I guess they take an annual trip up to Vermont and hang out at a lakehouse every summer. Usually, it's guys only, but I guess we are so cool, we made the cut this year. So we are going up sometime later this summer--June or July. And no, I don't know if The Magician is going or not. That's not why I'm going. Besides, he's also on the list of Men Who are Obviously Not Interested in Me.
Dammit, that list is getting long. Luckily, I don't have to put Julian McMahon on there, because he doesn't know me. So technically speaking, he could be extremely interested in me and not even know it. Sweet.
Oh crap. Haven't told you about my weekend yet. Let's see. Not super eventful. Friday night I was at this very nasty, beat up old bar, full of old people who were shagging. Seriously, it smelled like an ashtray in there and we were the only people in the bar not receiving social security checks in the mail. It was on the way to the next place we had to go, and E wanted a drink ASAP, so we went there first. E got into an argument with an old guy, which was pretty funny. She was getting belligerent almost. I didn't feel well for most of the night, and ended up going home pretty early.
Saturday night I went bowling with MJ, my friend Mr. Bill and a bunch of other people. The bowling balls were greased up with something, which of course, led to several jokes and much giggling. I suck at bowling. I think I bowled like a 39 on the first game. (I think this was the first time I've gone bowling in at least 5 years, so cut me some slack!) I did get 2 strikes on the next game, though. Just had to warm up, you know.
The rest of the weekend was spent watching tv on my couch, because I felt like crap most of the time. I saw the CUTEST movie ever. And if you have kids, they can watch it with you, because it's rated PG. It's called Little Manhattan and it's about a 5th grade boy who falls in love with this little girl in his karate class. Seriously, this movie is too cute. Plus, it has the actress who plays Miranda on "Sex and the City" in it. Love her.
I wish I wasn't sick right now so I could go to the gym. I am ready to lose more weight. I have been stuck at 15 pounds for like a month now. But I didn't feel well all last week, either--my cold actually started last week. I can feel the fat creeping back on....which I guess means it wouldn't be THAT big of a deal if I went out and got one little piece of chocolate cake real quick...this place called Rush's (a local fast food chain) has this thing called a Hot Fudge Cake. There is ice cream involved. It's pretty damn good. And I really need to get outside of these four walls.....
Monday, April 09, 2007
Nostalgia
Time for me to bore you with my weekend update. Friday was another wonderful evening with the lovely Happy Hour Girls. We all caught up on our "mens" -- or in my case, lack thereof.
Saturday morning, K and I made breakfast for Navy Guy using my new griddle. We had french toast just like Czarina's, scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. (Ever had turkey bacon? Dude, it's good. Try it.) Mmmmm....every day should start with a heaping dose of fat, salt, maple syrup and orange juice. (Diet? Who's on a diet? I don't know anyone...)
Saturday afternoon, I went with MJ and KT to a car show. I didn't realize she was such a big fan of cars...too bad the show was pretty small. We did see some cool cars, though. Then, in keeping with our nostalgic theme of the day, we went to Steak n Shake. For those of you who are not familiar with this restaurant, let me send you some virtual sympathy. You poor, poor thing. Get in your car and drive to the nearest one. Whadda ya mean it's 8 hours away? I said go. Don't worry, you will forget all about the drive as soon as you get a long, cool sip of one of their hand-scooped milkshakes. Mmmmm....
MJ and KT had never been, so I had to enlighten them. It's a 1950s-style burger/fries/shake kind of chain restaurant. I love them because:
1. They have fantastic milkshakes.
2. Their burgers have crispy edges and lots of big pickles.
3. Their chili is awesome on a cold day.
4. They are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. And now they take Visa.
They are everywhere in Indiana (sort of like how there's a Waffle House on every corner in SC), so going there always takes me back to Friday nights in high school, when every teenager in a 15 mile radius would descend on the poor staff of the local Steak n Shake. In college, I would meet up with friends there to talk and smoke for hours on end. So I have a lot of great Steak n Shake memories. They don't exist in Virginia, so I was very excited to see one when I moved here. I am the envy of my family, to be exact. The Belle family loves S&S.
After gorging ourselves on burgers and milkshakes (diet? what diet?), we hit some thrift stores. After looking at old furniture that looked like something from Grandma's house, we discovered a box of (get this) 8 tracks! I can't even remember the last time I have seen one. I think I was about 7 years old.
I ended up falling asleep on my couch on Saturday night -- wow, how exciting. I watched Best in Show before passing out, though. It was very disappointing. There are a couple of characters I liked (the gay couple and the yuppie couple were hysterical), but otherwise, this movie was lame.
Sunday, I cleaned the disgusting pig-hole known as my house. I cleaned all. day. long. I think I went through about 15 sheets on my lint roller. (It's dog hair city at my place.) I watched Mean Girls as I cleaned. I had forgotten how funny that movie is! By dinnertime, I was too tired to make anything and too grungy to go out to eat. So K and I got a pizza. (Diet? I don't know what you're talking about.) Well, eventually, anyway. It turns out, my house is located in the only part of town that Papa John's won't deliver to. If you go 15 minutes in any direction from my house, you can get to a Papa John's. But none of them will deliver to my house. I don't live in a bad neighborhood, just outside of their little delivery area. I thought this was bulls--t, and I *ahem* said so. Because, last I checked, pizza delivery guys could use the money. And I would swear on all things holy that they have delivered to my house before. But whatever. I just drove up to the Domino's around the corner, waited 10 minutes (for a far inferior, yet cheaper, take-out pizza) and got over it.
But Papa is on my list, now. He'd better be glad I don't have any mafia connections.
I haven't told you about my dream I had! Ok, it's so sad to say this, but it was practically the highlight of my weekend.
I had a dream that I had sex with Julian McMahon!!!! Yeah! It was awesome. Well, ok, I think it was awesome. I don't remember the actual sex part. (Maybe it was so good, my memory just couldn't handle it? And so it blocked it out??) My recollection starts when he gets up to go take a shower after we do it. I am removing my clothes (yeah, I don't get it either--maybe we had been too into it to bother with clothing removal?), telling him I'll be joining him in the shower in just a second (RAWR!) when I look over at his dresser.
There's a thing of woman's deodorant sitting on the dresser. And it's not mine. The asshole is too
dense/arrogant to even hide the most obvious piece of evidence of another woman.
That's the end of the dream -- me, naked, holding some other woman's deodorant.
How sad is it that I even have cynical dreams???? *sigh*
Ok, enough fooling around. I know why you're here. You are expecting some kind of Hot Neighbor update, aren't you? Something about lasagna, or me doing some weeding in my front yard, wearing nothing but a bikini. You want me to say that he and I had wild, hot, dirty monkey sex on his living room floor, don't you? Or that he's taking me out to dinner next Saturday.
You'd probably even settle for me saying something optimistically cliche about fate, or waiting for things to happen at the right time, or taking my life into my own hands and making things happen, not living in fear of rejection, that kind of thing. Am I right?
Well, sorry folks. The only Hot Neighbor update I have for you is this: He was gone most of the weekend. Right up until Sunday night, when the Wednesday Skank pulled into his driveway in her shiny, new convertible.
Wednesday Skank -- 2, Virginia Belle -- 0
Game over, folks.
Saturday morning, K and I made breakfast for Navy Guy using my new griddle. We had french toast just like Czarina's, scrambled eggs and turkey bacon. (Ever had turkey bacon? Dude, it's good. Try it.) Mmmmm....every day should start with a heaping dose of fat, salt, maple syrup and orange juice. (Diet? Who's on a diet? I don't know anyone...)
Saturday afternoon, I went with MJ and KT to a car show. I didn't realize she was such a big fan of cars...too bad the show was pretty small. We did see some cool cars, though. Then, in keeping with our nostalgic theme of the day, we went to Steak n Shake. For those of you who are not familiar with this restaurant, let me send you some virtual sympathy. You poor, poor thing. Get in your car and drive to the nearest one. Whadda ya mean it's 8 hours away? I said go. Don't worry, you will forget all about the drive as soon as you get a long, cool sip of one of their hand-scooped milkshakes. Mmmmm....
MJ and KT had never been, so I had to enlighten them. It's a 1950s-style burger/fries/shake kind of chain restaurant. I love them because:
1. They have fantastic milkshakes.
2. Their burgers have crispy edges and lots of big pickles.
3. Their chili is awesome on a cold day.
4. They are open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. And now they take Visa.
They are everywhere in Indiana (sort of like how there's a Waffle House on every corner in SC), so going there always takes me back to Friday nights in high school, when every teenager in a 15 mile radius would descend on the poor staff of the local Steak n Shake. In college, I would meet up with friends there to talk and smoke for hours on end. So I have a lot of great Steak n Shake memories. They don't exist in Virginia, so I was very excited to see one when I moved here. I am the envy of my family, to be exact. The Belle family loves S&S.
After gorging ourselves on burgers and milkshakes (diet? what diet?), we hit some thrift stores. After looking at old furniture that looked like something from Grandma's house, we discovered a box of (get this) 8 tracks! I can't even remember the last time I have seen one. I think I was about 7 years old.
I ended up falling asleep on my couch on Saturday night -- wow, how exciting. I watched Best in Show before passing out, though. It was very disappointing. There are a couple of characters I liked (the gay couple and the yuppie couple were hysterical), but otherwise, this movie was lame.
Sunday, I cleaned the disgusting pig-hole known as my house. I cleaned all. day. long. I think I went through about 15 sheets on my lint roller. (It's dog hair city at my place.) I watched Mean Girls as I cleaned. I had forgotten how funny that movie is! By dinnertime, I was too tired to make anything and too grungy to go out to eat. So K and I got a pizza. (Diet? I don't know what you're talking about.) Well, eventually, anyway. It turns out, my house is located in the only part of town that Papa John's won't deliver to. If you go 15 minutes in any direction from my house, you can get to a Papa John's. But none of them will deliver to my house. I don't live in a bad neighborhood, just outside of their little delivery area. I thought this was bulls--t, and I *ahem* said so. Because, last I checked, pizza delivery guys could use the money. And I would swear on all things holy that they have delivered to my house before. But whatever. I just drove up to the Domino's around the corner, waited 10 minutes (for a far inferior, yet cheaper, take-out pizza) and got over it.
But Papa is on my list, now. He'd better be glad I don't have any mafia connections.
I haven't told you about my dream I had! Ok, it's so sad to say this, but it was practically the highlight of my weekend.
I had a dream that I had sex with Julian McMahon!!!! Yeah! It was awesome. Well, ok, I think it was awesome. I don't remember the actual sex part. (Maybe it was so good, my memory just couldn't handle it? And so it blocked it out??) My recollection starts when he gets up to go take a shower after we do it. I am removing my clothes (yeah, I don't get it either--maybe we had been too into it to bother with clothing removal?), telling him I'll be joining him in the shower in just a second (RAWR!) when I look over at his dresser.
There's a thing of woman's deodorant sitting on the dresser. And it's not mine. The asshole is too
dense/arrogant to even hide the most obvious piece of evidence of another woman.
That's the end of the dream -- me, naked, holding some other woman's deodorant.
How sad is it that I even have cynical dreams???? *sigh*
Ok, enough fooling around. I know why you're here. You are expecting some kind of Hot Neighbor update, aren't you? Something about lasagna, or me doing some weeding in my front yard, wearing nothing but a bikini. You want me to say that he and I had wild, hot, dirty monkey sex on his living room floor, don't you? Or that he's taking me out to dinner next Saturday.
You'd probably even settle for me saying something optimistically cliche about fate, or waiting for things to happen at the right time, or taking my life into my own hands and making things happen, not living in fear of rejection, that kind of thing. Am I right?
Well, sorry folks. The only Hot Neighbor update I have for you is this: He was gone most of the weekend. Right up until Sunday night, when the Wednesday Skank pulled into his driveway in her shiny, new convertible.
Wednesday Skank -- 2, Virginia Belle -- 0
Game over, folks.
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