Neih hou! Guess Where I'm Going!!

Neih hou, readers!

I have recently found out I am going here soon:



Here is the apartment complex where I will probably be staying. Notice it is beachfront!

Isn't it beautiful? Can you guess where this is? Here are some hints:

I have to get my passport renewed.
I have a VERY long plane flight ahead of me.
Where I am going, there is no such thing as the 4th floor.
This city is roughly the same size as New York City.
There are over 200 islands here.
It is the world's most vertical city, with more people living and working above the 14th floor than anywhere else.
I will need to get an Octopus Card.
It is home to the world's longest rail/car suspension bridge.
I hope I will get to try wife cakes and mooncakes, which are local delicacies.
I will have to remember that giving clocks, scissors and red flowers are all considered bad gifts in their culture.
I will have to learn how to use chop sticks -- eek! I suck at chopsticks!!
I will also need to develop a taste for tea -- blech!!!
If I am offered shark fin soup, it will be rude of me to turn it down, as this delicacy is expensive and given to guests of honor.
I need to get ready for my personal space to be invaded -- they stand very close to each other over there. Luckily, they are as uncomfortable with touching as Americans are.
Feng shui is very important over there.
I should not wear blue or white, as these are considered colors of mourning.

Can anyone guess where I am going??? I am super excited, even though it will be a business trip. I might be gone as long as a month! I will be going mid- to late-August. Woo hoo!!!

Work Blur

Thank you everyone for your supportive comments. I was kind of bummed out the other day, and I will probably have days like that for a while. But right now, I'm good.

Not to change the subject, but work is totally bonkers right now. Oh, who am I kidding? Work has been bonkers since I took this job back in February! That's why my blogging and blog reading has dwindled to almost nothing. My department is so incredibly understaffed, it is not even funny. You could double it and we probably still wouldn't get everything done. Now that fall quarter has begun (the college where I work is on a quarter schedule, rather than semesters -- yes, it's weird), it is beyond busy. Fall is our busiest time of the year, hands down. Just to give you an idea of what my days are like, let me tell you about last Monday. Please keep in mind that I am not complaining. I really love my job. I am just trying to illustrate to you how insane and demanding my job is. Ok, so about last Monday...

I sent or returned emails. All day. I am not kidding. That's what I did for 8 hours. Which means I didn't get anything else done. I have not worked fewer than 45 hours per week since August. I am probably closer to 50 hours per week. The only reason it is not 60 is because by 6pm I am too mentally exhausted to do anything productive. Here is a basic breakdown of an average day for me:

8am -- teach a class of students how to use the library. This involved about 1.5 hours of prep time the day before, btw.
10:30 am -- the class is over and so I don't have a ton of students asking me for help after I just showed them stuff. Time for breakfast at my desk while I check my email. I don't finish reading email because my staff has a bunch of questions for me. Now I have to send out a couple of emails or help them with something to get to the bottom of their concerns/questions.
11am -- I have to sit at the reference desk to answer questions from students who come into the library. Usually, I get to learn something cool in the process, like the history of a font or a theoretical interpretation of a painting. Yesterday, I learned there is a difference between an interior decorator and an interior designer. Who knew?
12pm -- Lunch! I am starved! I go to lunch after following up on a couple more things, answering more questions from my staff or coworkers, jotting "don't forget!" notes on my to-do list and talking to a faculty member who stopped by for a quick chat about their student's assignment and a couple of books they want us to buy.
12:40pm -- I actually sit down to eat my lunch.
1pm -- back on the reference desk to answer more questions and learn more stuff. Manage to check my email and finally return the emails from the last 24 hours.
3pm -- I am off the desk and back in my office to prep for the next day. More follow-ups. I spend about 15 minutes looking for my to-do list and another 15 minutes trying to figure out what to prioritize first. Tell myself I need to get organized better next time. Interrupted by coworker/staff member/student/faculty member. Have a panicky moment when I realize I forgot to do something kind of important. Drop everything to put out that fire. Make a bunch of photocopies for a class I am teaching later in the week. Run out of time to select some books for the library to buy, which I am supposed to be doing on a continual basis. Oops.
4pm -- meeting with someone about something. Could be a student working on an assignment, could be my boss wanting updates and could be my staff who are trying to learn the ropes of their new job or a faculty member who wants to talk to me about something. Or possibly Brett Favre. Who knows. I have probably met with Obama and I dont' even realize it because I am totally scatterbrained.
5pm -- YES! Time to go home! Oh wait. No. I can't. Gotta return this email, ask my coworker about this thing, take these books upstairs, look up some images for a professor, figure out what I am going to show the class I am teaching in the morning...
6pm -- ok, NOW I am going home. Yes. I think it is ok now. I don't feel panicky. My email has quieted down for the night and I honestly cannot think of anything super important that needs to be done before I go to bed.
7:30pm -- I pass out on the couch while I watch Jeopardy. No joke.
10:15pm -- I lie awake in my bed, thinking about work. Cannot...shut...off...brain....zzzzzzzzz

And that is just a normal day. Not even the craziest day. The crazy days are when 2 people call in and I have to cover some of their duties, or I have 3 classes to teach instead of one, or my boss has an emergency task she needs my help with NOW. That's when stuff really gets nuts.

Coming up soon on a Monday morning, I have 4 classes to teach. Before lunch. It will go like this:
8am -- arrive at Liberal Arts building to teach English class.
9:30am -- run across the hall to teach the next one.
11am -- go back to original room to teach next section of the same English course.
12:30 -- run back to the other room again to teach next section of that class.
2pm -- get to work to do all the stuff I normally do. Probably eat lunch at my desk.

The day after it? The same thing.

This job is going to be the death of me. I wish I was a superhero. I need to plan something super fun to do for when classes are over. I deserve a massage, or a vacation or a shopping spree. Something.

Oh, so the whole point of this blog. Almost forgot. (See? I am so overloaded, I cannot even remember simple things!) My boss pulls me into her office the other day. She told me I got a small raise (YAY) and that she is very happy with my work so far. She loves me. But perhaps a little too much: She then explains to me that she is thinking about making me Head of Public Services, which would essentially double my workload, because I would be in charge of 2 departments -- the two busiest in the building. I would be in charge of my department --Reference (answering questions at the front desk), Instruction, Circulation (all the checking in/out of books, holds, reserves, Interlibrary Loan, fines, etc.) and most of the Collection Development (ie, book selection). She is thinking about doing this because the manager of the Circulation department has been flaking out at work lately, and she implied that she is going to demote him and put him under me as another Reference Librarian. Which would kind of be a godsend -- I really need an extra pair of hands. But then I would be in charge of several other people I am not currently in charge of. My boss said I would be compensated ($!) for all of this extra work load, and I am really proud of myself for proving how valuable I am as an employee, but HOLY COW IS SHE HIGH??! I can barely keep my head above water now! And she wants me to pile even more heaps of responsibility on my plate??? I would love to say I would be excited for this HUGE promotion, but to be honest, I am worried I would not be able to handle it all.

She hasn't decided anything definite yet, but she will by the end of the month. The thing that is really weird is that this guy who has been flaking out is a really nice guy who everyone likes and who we all hang out with socially. I just hope it doesn't get awkward if it does happen. Oh, and did I mention that he's cute? Yeah. He is. Just to make it that much more interesting.

My boss had better be talking about a LOT of money.

Probably the Biggest Post Ever

So after trying on a bazillion dresses at about 4 stores, I found The Dress.....



If you want to see a pic of the back, go to David's Bridal and search for style # CT 2406. It's exactly what I wanted -- lace, but still simple, under $1,000 and not too fluffy or Bridezilla-y. But before you get all excited, I have some other news, too.

While CN and I were in Virginia visiting The Czarina, we spoke with the pastor of my family's church in my hometown. He wanted to talk to us about getting some pre-wedding counseling and he wanted to ask us a bunch of questions.

He started with some basic ones which I think we handled ok. Then the questions started to get more involved. How are we working on the budget? Who will do all the housework? Who will be the primary caretaker of the children? How many kids do you want to have? Where will you live? Who brings home the bacon? etc.

We sort of muddled through, because to be honest, we had never really discussed any of these things too deeply. We had some ideas, but nothing definite. Then he gave us a questionnaire to fill out -- one for me and one for CN. We were supposed to fill them out separately, and then compare answers. We did it when we got back home to Savannah, but I already knew what would happen.

Our answers were pretty different. Our answers were different on BIG questions that are important. Like how do you picture your life in ten years? My answer: fun, exciting chaos -- lots of kids running around, possibly a new career, we might be living anywhere in the world, constant changes. His answer: living in Savannah. Same jobs. Maybe a kid. And a house.

Another question pointed out to me that we do not resolve issues properly (we basically drop them rather than get to the bottom of it) and that I have a small issue with his relationship with his mother (she is really needy and not independent AT ALL, which makes him feel like he can never move too far away, no matter what). I asked CN what would happen if I found a great job that would mean a better life for us and our kids.....but it's in Oregon. He said I would be moving there alone if that happened, because he can't move that far from his mom.

Wow. That's an eye opener.

He believes staying near your family is much more important than I do. He cannot fathom living somewhere that is not within a couple hours from his mom. This is a foreign concept to me. That's why planes, trains and automobiles were invented.

"What if your mom and I had a disagreement? Would you take my side or hers?" I asked.

"Well, that depends on who is right," he replied.

"Wrong answer," I said. "If I am the mother of your children, I have to come first. Period. When you marry me, I have to become your priorty, second only to God. Just like you would become my priority. That's what marriage is about. If your marriage is not first, that's a problem for me."

He could not see that.

After going through some more talking and discussing what we wanted from life and how we viewed marriage, our differences became really obvious to me. But I had seen this coming.

For a while.

For several months, actually.

A few months ago, I began to have some doubts about marrying CN. I even had a huge freak out and went to go visit MJ for a weekend to talk to her about it. I was so confused! I knew what I was feeling, but I couldn't verbalize it. She did a great job at listening to me, but not voicing her opinion. Exactly what I needed! I felt a little better. I kept telling myself, "It's not that big of a deal. You love each other. You will figure it out." or "Too late. You're marrying CN, so you made your bed. Now sleep in it."

These are NOT good thoughts, am I right?

I had a nagging voice in the back of my head. It was doubt. And if there is one thing I believe, it's that you should NEVER get married if you have any doubts. I began to realize that CN is lacking in some things I cannot live with. I love him to death, but I know it takes more than love to make a marriage work. He is perfectly happy with the same job, same house, same day in and out-- for the most part. He is not ambitious or very energetic or motivated to improve his life. He is not intellectually curious. Now, I am not knocking these things. I am sure there are plenty of wonderful people who are perfectly happy like this. But I am not one of them. That is not good. CN and I need to be on the same page with things, and we are not. When I think about a future w/CN, all I see is that everything will be my job:

where we live (It was my idea to move to Savannah, remember?)
how many kids to have
which job to take (I make more money than him, and he will probably never change jobs, so we will probably move according to my career, not his, which is an easily-transferred job anyway)
the housework (I do not mind being in charge of it, especially after seeing him do laundry!)
raising the kids (not that he would be a bad father -- he would be great. But I can tell I would be the one helping them with homework, putting them to bed, etc.)

Are you tired yet? Because I am exhausted when I think about this. CN is a passive participant in his own life. He has very few friends, and only talks to them when they call him. He has very few hobbies. I began to realize -- he's kind of boring. But how could that be?? I was so happy dating him! And then I realized: he is always willing to do what I want to do. He doesn't have any life or opinions outside of me. It's like dating myself! I like being busy, trying new things, working hard, taking risks. But I can't do it all. And since CN is so passive, I will be doing everything. All by myself. And during this process, CN will grow resentful of me for running the show all the time. When he does, and says something, I will have to back down and do what he wants for a change, which will make me resentful. We will fall into a vicious cycle of resentment. It will eat away at what we have. And what I need in a spouse, I will eventually want to get elsewhere. Not good. At all.

But I was not the only one who saw it. Before I left my mom's house, The Czarina pulled me aside after everyone went to bed. I had talked to her about this stuff a little before, in the weeks preceding this visit. But I had been so excited and wrapped up in getting married, I had sort of put it to the back of my mind.

She said to me, "I'm only going to say one thing. And if I'm wrong, then tell me to shut up and we will never have to talk about this again. He is a sweet guy, and I know you love him very much, and I can tell he loves you very much. But if you are making all the decisions, how is this any different than being single?"

As soon as she said this, I burst into tears and knew what I had to do. I think I was just waiting for someone to sort of give me permission to remember that there were no rings on any fingers yet. I didn't have to do it.

I broke it off last week.

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.

Ring Update

Oh dear. Where to begin? So much has happened in the last 4 days....

So Friday night after work, CN and I looked at some rings in a couple of jewelry stores. I tried on some Tacori look-alikes, and I was very sad to realize that they didn't look right on me! They were too bulky. Designs that intricate mandate a bigger ring, and I have fairly small and delicate hands. So they were beautiful, but just very awkward-looking on me.

Instead, I fell in love with a much simpler white gold design: a 3/4 carat center stone (round, white diamond, prong-set), with .10 carat prong-set round yellow diamonds on either side. On the other side of the yellow diamonds were teeny-tiny prong-set white diamonds, stopping about halfway down the ring. (My suspicions were correct -- the eternity bands, where the diamonds make a full circle around your finger, are uncomfortable!) All in all, the ring would be around $5k, which is reasonable, I think.

I could not find an exact replica on the jewelry store's website, but this is pretty close. Just pretend the little ones on either side of the center stone are yellow:


While I wanted to keep looking, because-- hello!-- ring shopping is super fun, this one ended up being my favorite one out of three stores. It looked the most proportionate to my hand, it was comfortable, it wasn't outrageously expensive, and it felt like "me".

CN and the jewelry store guy did some number crunching, and if CN financed the whole thing, the monthly payments would be around $250.

"That's the same amount I pay on my Jeep every month," he said, thinking out loud.

"Hmm. Go figure," I replied, deadpan.

"I need to get rid of it anyway. I never drive it, and I use my company car anyway. And parking is so bad in downtown Savannah. We really don't need three cars..." he continued.

I just nodded in agreement.

He did seem a little freaked out about the whole process, but he said it was because he always gets nervous whenever he spends a large amount of money at one time. He assured me it wasn't because he didn't want to marry me or wasn't ready yet. I wanted to make sure. So when we got home, I talked to him a little bit more. I just wanted to be sure he was really ready to take this next step and start moving forward. I told him that if he wasn't ready, this was the time to tell me. I also said that if he didn't feel comfortable buying an expensive ring right now, he can get me a cheaper one -- the cost of the ring wasn't as important to me as being engaged was. I explained that I didn't want him resenting me later if he felt uncomfortable with buying something like that. "No, no, I want to get you something you like! Something nice! It's just that with both of us moving and our mortgages...money is just kind of crazy right now, and I am just not seeing how this is all going to work."

I agreed. So I told him that it's no big deal -- he can just get his own place when he moves to Savannah and we can figure it out later. I told him we can put it off and just live together later. He can take his time and save up his money. No biggie. Which works fine, anyway, since we don't know when he'll be joining me in Savannah. Could be months from now.

Well, he surprised the heck out of me. He put his Jeep, his drum set and his guitar on craigslist yesterday! Woo hoo! He must not be as freaked out about all of this as I thought! Yay!!!

Of course, I had to email the above pic to The Czarina to show her what I liked and tell her everything. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when she called me soon after and said, "So, can I tell everyone that you are engaged????!!"

"Uh, well, no. I don't have a ring and he hasn't asked me yet, Mom, so no." I answered.

"And he hasn't called me to ask my permission yet, either," she noted with a tone of sarcasm.

"I know, Mom. I told him he has to call you before he can ask me," I said.

"I am just so baffled as to what is going on, though. I mean, you're doing it all backwards. He's supposed to ask first, then you go pick out the ring. I'm very confused," she went on.

"Well, Mom, he really didn't know exactly what all was involved with getting engaged. He thought he just needed to get me a $200 wedding band and we just go get married," I said.

"He's right. Why not? The ring's not the important part. He can get you a gemstone one that's cheaper. I mean, what are you waiting for, anyway?" she said.

"I know, Mom. I agree. I told him all of that. But he's a guy, and he wants to save up his money, so I had to show him how much these things cost, and what kind of ring I like, because he had no idea," I replied.

As you can probably tell, she's ready for me to get married yesterday. The woman is chomping at the bit to be a grandma. All her friends' kids are married with babies, and I know she feels left out. She has really surprised me. I knew she would get like this, but I didn't realize it would be so soon. He hasn't even proposed! Sheesh! Calm down!

So one trip to a jewelry store has turned my mom into a monster. She's already more obsessed than I am. I keep getting emails and voicemails with ideas for how we can consider ourselves engaged without him having to buy a nice engagement ring: "Tell him to just get you a gemstone one!" "Go check out estate sales!" "All these jewelry stores are having sales right now!" "Just get a little one for now. You can upgrade later!" "Just set the date and get the ring later!"

Jeez, Louise!

Just for the heck of it, I did look at a calendar and realized that the last Saturday in June 2010 is my dad's birthday -- the 26th. Since he won't be there to walk me down the aisle, I have always wanted to get married on his birthday. So this date actually works perfectly. I told CN about that and he said, "Sounds good to me." :)

When I got to work this morning, I saw an email from The Czarina in my inbox. "Oh boy. Here we go," I thought. I clicked on it. Well, it pretty much made my day. Apparently, she was too excited to keep it all bottled up, and she must have called her sister last night, because the email essentially told me this:

"I talked to Aunt M. last night. Told her about you and CN going ring shopping. She told me to tell you two to stop shopping right away -- she has your grandmother's ring, and was going to give it to you anyway, since you're named after her. She said she might as well give it to you now. So you can have that ring. It's a platinum solitaire. Love, Mom"

My Aunt M never had any children, so it does make sense that she would eventually give me the ring. But I had forgotten all about it! I have always hoped for a family ring, but never thought it was possible. This ring in particular is especially sentimental for me, because I am named after this particular grandmother, but I never met her. So this was really great news!!! I am so excited to have a family ring. I've seen it before, but aside from remembering that I like it, I can't remember what it looks like. I think it's a pretty simple setting, with a generous diamond. I will keep it exactly how it is, though. I get to have a really neat connection to a grandma I never got to meet. That is the best kind of ring, I think. And I know CN is relieved to hear that he won't have to stress out about finding a way to buy one. :)

YAY!!! This is so great. I must have cashed in all my karma chips or something, because lately I have been feeling like I have won the lottery. How could life get any better?

A Victory and a Mystery

I almost took that last post down. I got home that day and thought, "I can't believe I just wrote a post about a stupid lost water bottle. My blog has reached a new low."

But then you guys had such great ideas!!! My readers are so helpful! Thanks, everybody. I think I might order one of the Rose Parade ones...or whatever that was. I'm also going to go back to the store where CN bought it and plead with the manager to carry them again. It's worth a shot.

Besides, as you will soon see, THIS is the post which will take my blog to new lows.

I had a small victory this morning when getting ready for work. My 2 weeks of diet and exercise were all worth it when I put on a pair of jeans I could not wear a month ago! YAY!!! Go me! Little things like that really keep me motivated to continue. Because let me tell ya, I am having a hard time cutting out all the sweets I normally eat. I am trying to be more aware of what I'm eating, because I find that when I'm not actively thinking about what goes in my mouth, I usually eat too much or a bunch of crap. And I'm really pushing myself at the gym -- I ran about 3 miles the other day, which is something I haven't done since I was a teenager. I was really proud of that. I am not quite sure how much I've lost, but it's about 2-4 pounds. Definitely a step in the right direction!!!

As you can probably tell, I don't have a ton of things going on right now. But I did experience something totally disgusting yesterday. So if you're eating while reading, I suggest you stop. Also, don't read this before lunch or anything, because it just about killed my lunch appetite yesterday.

I tell people all the time, "I can't believe CN puts up with me." This statement is usually met with amazement, as most people don't know how weird and/or stupid I can be at times. Allow me to enlighten you, dear readers.

I was walking Sammy, just like I always do on my lunch break. I take him down our street and go behind our little neighborhood. It's basically an empty lot behind our street, so he is free to be a dog back there. There's a little clearing where Sammy likes to do #2. I was walking him back there, when I saw it: a piece of clothing on the ground.

"Hmm, that wasn't here when I walked Sammy this morning," I thought.

Then I realized this meant that our resident homeless guy was probably back. He comes and goes, but we always know when he's around because one of us will spot him or there will suddenly be a lot of trash in the empty lot. Which makes sense -- it's not like he has access to a trashcan. He hangs out in the woods beyond the empty lot. My elderly neighbors and CN tell me not to go behind our street during these times, but I think he's harmless, so I just don't go as far back as I normally would, just to be safe. If he wanted to do something, he would have done it by now-- asked for food or money. I think he just wants to be left alone, because I've never even laid eyes on the guy. I try to have sympathy for people in unfortunate circumstances like that. I don't want to just jump to stereotypes, because I think a lot of homeless people are addicts, mentally ill or just down on their luck-- they have real problems. I believe most homeless people mean no harm at all, and are usually just misunderstood. I don't like it when people assume they are criminals or evil. That's just not fair. It's only out of sheer luck that I'm not one of them, so I try to keep that in mind.

As Sammy is sniffing around and marking his territory, I am studying the piece of clothing. What is odd to me is that it looks like it has been ripped off of someone's body. It was just thrown on the ground, and I didn't want to touch it, so it was kind of difficult to tell what it was exactly. Nearby, I saw a (presumably) empty box of cigarettes.

And something else.

Oh. My. Is that....what I think it is??? Because if it is, that is....totally effing disgusting. Dear God!

Out of shock, I backed away from it and turned around and went back home, much to the irritation of Sammy, who possesses what must be an endless supply of pee.

I decided to get CN and take him with me to look at it again. I needed a second opinion. So after work, I hurried home before the sun set to drag him with me. "What is it?" he asked.

"Just come here. I want to show it to you. I'm not sure what it is," I replied.

I took him to the back lot, over to the little clearing where Sammy usually does his business. I pointed. "Is that what I think that is?" I asked. "Because if it is, that is totally incredible and disgusting. I mean, look at it! It's massive. And in one straight piece. I've never seen anything like it!"

"I can't believe you made me stop working to come over here and look at a giant piece of shit, VB," CN said.

"So it is shit, then?" I asked, stupidly. "Because I wasn't totally sure if it was human or not. It could be from a big dog. A really big dog. I thought maybe it was some kind of food or something. You know, all that rain we had, I thought maybe it was dissolving food that just looked like shit," I continued.

"I can't believe you. I'm going back inside. This is ridiculous," he said, turning around to leave.

"No! Wait! Do you think it's from the homeless guy?" I asked, grabbing his arm.

"Of course it's from the homeless guy!" he said, frustrated. "I mean, look -- that's his underwear right there!" CN pointed to the mysterious article of clothing I'd spotted earlier. Aha! It was a pair of ripped boxers! Mystery solved.

"But it looks like he literally ripped it off his body," I said.

"Well, by the looks of it, I don't think he had a lot of time to waste," CN chuckled.

"No kidding. I've never seen anything like it! I'm going to go get the camera and take a picture of it," I said.

CN promptly talked me out of this idea. But I do kind of wish I could share it with you. It was at least a foot long. And in a perfect line, not in a pile like you'd think it would be. Which makes me wonder if he sort of walked it out, if you get what I'm saying. Too graphic? If so, I apologize. But this was one amazing turd, y'all. And really, he was not far at all from some of my neighbors' windows. Someone could have easily seen him squatting. But come to think of it, that supports CN's theory that this guy didn't have time to waste.

And the other discarded things sort of tell a story. I bet he had a nice smoke, and then thought, "Uh. Oh." He was in such a hurry, he had to literally rip his clothes off before it was too late. WOW.

I continued rambling on about The Amazing Poo, and CN reprimanded me: "Look, keep it down. I'm sure he doesn't want us standing around, talking about his poo. He's probably watching us right now. Listen, I don't want you coming back here anymore, do you understand?"

I nodded, staring at my feet and feeling ashamed.

As if being homeless isn't enough, this guy has to deal with strangers discussing his poos.

But it is a pretty impressive turd.

Familiarity Breeds Contempt, Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is this girl for real???

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

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

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Know what her response was?

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

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

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

I guess some people just don't get it.

Stay tuned for Part II.

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

The Stalker

I have mentioned my stalker before. See here and here.

If you look at the dates on those posts, you will see that he's been bothering me since at least March 2007. Thankfully, it has not been continuous because he doesn't attend school every semester. I had kind of forgotten about him, because he wasn't here for the spring semester or the summer. But now, he's back. Every Monday and Wednesday, when he's got classes, he camps out in the library pretty much all day long. (We have learned that his mom drops him off in the mornings and then picks him up when she gets off of work. So he doesn't have a car, which is GOOD.) When he's here, I have to strategically avoid him and hope that he won't follow me to my car. This is not a good working environment!!!

He came up to the desk the other night and asked if he could talk to me. (Unfortunately, I stupidly told him my first name a long time ago, before I knew he would give me the creeps.) My coworker informed him that I had left for the day. But he creeped her out so much that she emailed me about it. He gives everyone the creeps around here, but for some unknown reason, he has become fixated on me, especially. In addition to dealing with his creepiness (staring, lurking, hanging out for no apparent reason, smacking his lips incessantly), I have also had to endure personal questions about my boyfriend and love life. It's pretty evident that this guy has some screws loose, so in a way, I have some sympathy for him. Which is why I have, in the past, sugar-coated my responses to his nosy and inappropriate questions.

As you can probably guess, this only encouraged him. Despite my heavy hints to leave me alone, he still wants to talk to me. It culminated with him finding my myspace page last April and emailing me a bizarre email. Since he was not here at school at the time, I didn't worry about it too much. But I kept the email he sent me, just in case. (When he is not at school, I do not have to really worry about him, as he does not have a car and lives on the other side of town. So the good thing is, he cannot follow me home or anything like that.)

Fast forward to last week, when he asked my coworker if he could talk to me. After hearing that he's now bothering everyone, and not just me, I have decided that I have had enough. In addition to his creepiness, he has been confrontational with some of my coworkers in the past. He's got a mouth and isn't afraid to get mouthy whenever one of us asks him to be quiet or obey the library rules. My coworker and I were talking about his attitude and ultra-creepiness the next day when she reminded me that some criminal records are considered public information here in SC, and were therefore, online. So we looked him up.

Here's what we found: disorderly conduct, domestic violence (multiple offenses against his own mother), resisting arrest, driving on a suspended license and assaulting an officer. And he's spent some time in jail. His rap sheet goes back to 1998, when he was still in high school.

After reading that, I was officially freaked out. If it had been one minor offense, I would not have really worried about it. But to see multiple offenses, some of which are violent, really worried me. He has the ability to turn violent. Against anyone. This guy has a temper, and I know that stalkers do not deal well with rejection. Grrrrrrrrrreat.

I knew I had to do something. But what??? Going to the police and getting a restraining order would only make me a target for revenge. He would know I am the one who filed it. And he could come into the library and totally wig out and/or shoot me or something. Or ramp up his efforts to talk to me. (Stalkers often see restraining orders as challenges to overcome. Yes, I did some research. I'm a librarian -- what did you expect?)

CN wanted to come to campus and follow him into the men's room with a crowbar. I told him that would not be necessary. But I appreciated the thought. He offered a less-violent, more legal idea -- how about he just come to campus and talk to the stalker? I turned down this idea. The last thing I need is for CN to be a target, too.

I decided to go to the office here on campus that deals with problem students. That way, it would be the school that is making the complaint, and my name would not be involved. I was pretty sure that he'd been causing problems around campus, so I was thinking maybe my statement would be the straw that could break the camel's back. If enough people complained, they'd have to do something, right???

I met with one of the student services peeps and told him everything. I even brought a print-out of the strange email he had sent me. When I informed him of my stalker's rap sheet, he looked at me in amazement. "How did you know about all that?" he asked. I told him it was public information. He made some scribbles in his notes, I assume listing all his criminal offenses. He said his office is very familiar with this student and they are "keeping an eye on him", whatever that means. He told me that if all he's doing is being creepy, they can't really do anything. He had sympathy for me, but he's right -- it's not a crime to be a wierdo. I knew the student services office had their hands tied until I could prove my stalker refused to leave me alone or did something violent. Unfortunately, this is the world we live in. And I understand that. But I at least wanted it on record that I had made a complaint.

But he did tell me that this student does have some mental problems, and that as long as I am firm but respectful, I should have some success in getting him to leave me alone. The student services guy said that other people on campus have had success with this strategy. He told me to always keep my phone with me, no matter where I am on campus. He also told me to never walk to my car alone. He also advised me to write down every encounter I have with him, including the date and time and place and what was said, so that we can start keeping track of everything. Yes, I realize now that I should have been doing this all along, but I stupidly didn't take this guy seriously. Luckily, I have mentioned him in this blog, which will help me at least report how long it's been going on.

According to their records, he's never been violent on campus, just mouthy. "There's a first time for everything," I thought. So I informed him that the only reason I was talking to his office instead of the cops was because I didn't want my name on a restraining order. I didn't want to make myself a target. I also said that if he didn't have a violent criminal history, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I had really wanted to go straight to police, to be honest.

Anyway, I am waiting to hear back from his office about what we can do. I told him I would like it if he was banned from the library entirely, if possible. And without my name specifically involved. Ideally, he would be kicked out of school! Until then, I have to just watch my back, be really firm with him and make myself more unavailable online. I am going to remove even more personally identifiying information on my myspace and facebook accounts. It can't hurt.

What makes me angry is that the whole office didnt' even know about his criminal record!!! You would think that after the Virginia Tech shootings, we would not have to deal with crap like this anymore! I mean, I know the school needs to make money via tuition, and I believe in privacy laws and giving people 2nd chances to turn their lives around, but at what cost? I'm not getting the impression this guy is interested in behaving himself or trying to overcome his bad past decisions. I think he's a potentially violent stalker who could flip at any moment and should not be allowed on campus. And I'm a little angry at how vulnerable my place of employment is leaving me. Who knows what other wack jobs are roaming around out here?! If I'm at risk, so are all of my coworkers. I hate that they basically wont' do anything until it's too late. That is a crappy policy. Have we learned nothing after Virginia Tech????

Monday, Monday

Well, it's certainly Monday. Let's see. Where should I begin? I think I will ease into it with something funny.

I have told you how my little sister, Smurf, is a horrible driver. Well, despite a year's worth of practice, involving a learner's permit, driver's ed and much practicing with family members, she is no better today than she was the first time she got behind the wheel. Somehow, this did not stop the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles from issuing her a driver's license last month. Do not ask me how on earth she passed the driving test, but she did. So she got her license in mid-July. That was only a few weeks ago. She now has THREE tickets. She got them ALL on the same day: speeding, running a stop sign and driving on the wrong side of the road. "It was only for a second," she told me. "And there was no one else on the road." I told her that apparently, there was someone else on the road. She says she's learned her lesson, but I doubt that will be enough to convince the judge that he should not revoke her driver's license, which is probably what he will do. My poor mother and her insurance rates....yeesh.

This weekend, CN's dad had to go back to the hospital again. "Do you want to go with me to visit him?" CN asked me Saturday morning. I asked CN why he was in the hospital. CN was pretty vague. So I declined because...
1. The request was phrased in a way that made it seem optional.
2. It was my weekend off.
3. The hospital was an hour away.
4. I was having a dinner party that night for my girlfriends, and needed to prepare.
5. When my dad was sick, he was in the hospital a dozen times before things got serious.

By now, you have probably realized that "No" was the wrong answer. Unfortunately, I am not nearly as bright as my readers. Because I should have realized that CN isn't the kind of person who would say, "Look, I am really worried, and I really want you to come with me." Because if he had said that, then yes, I would have dropped everything and gone with him. But I am dense, and he downplays things, which leads to misunderstandings and people being upset. This is not the first time he has downplayed something important, and I was too stupid to figure it out.

By Sunday morning, he was pretty angry with me, and I could tell something was wrong. He told me I had really let him down and that he was really worried about his dad. I instantly felt like a candidate for Worst Girlfriend Ever, apologized and explained my reasoning to him. He agreed that he should have explained things better, and I canceled all my Sunday plans and went down with him to the hospital yesterday.

Not long after we got to the hospital, CN's mom took us to lunch, where she explained that CN's dad had been acting funny lately, which was part of the reason she had put him back in the hospital. She just had a hunch something wasn't right. So the doctor gave CN's dad a MRI (or was it a CT scan?) and we were waiting to hear the results. The doctor called when we got back from lunch. And the news was not good. CN's dad has prostate cancer that has metasticized all over his body. And the MRI showed that he now has lesions in his brain and they are bleeding. So he's being put back on radiation again today. It's not looking so hot. Because the doctors have actually had him on a break from the chemo/radiation treatments because his body can't really handle too much more. So I don't have a good feeling about all of this.

Obviously, I won't be skipping any more hospital visits, either. I am thinking I should maybe quit my Dildo's job, so I will have more free time to go with him to the hospital.

Then, at 2am last night, I was awakened by my roommate, E, again. She and her boyf broke up (again) and so instead of being at his house all the time, she's now at my house all the time. Which would be fine, except for the fact that she has insomnia, so she gets up all through the night, which wakes me up. She has woken me up just about every night for the last 2 weeks. It's getting old.

Anyway, at 2am last night, I awoke to the sound of her giggling. I got up to shut the door to my room, only to realize that there was a 2nd voice -- a man's voice -- giggling with her. In the shower.

"Great," I thought.

I was already upset about CN's dad and I had to get up early this morning for work. So I had a difficult time falling back asleep. I tossed and turned for at least an hour, furious at her inconsideration. When I got up this morning, I noticed that this random guy's car was still outside. This kind of annoyed me. I mean, if you want to hook up with random guys, fine. But do it on the weekend and make sure he's gone by the morning, you know?

I started to get ready for work, and as I'm getting ready, I hear my roommate quietly slip out and leave. That's unusual for her -- she usually asks me if her outfit looks okay every morning. And I didn't hear a man's footsteps following her. Hmmm.

I finished getting ready, trying to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But when I went to leave, I saw that the random guy's car was still parked outside, and my roommate was gone!

I. Was. Furious.

I threw open the door to her room and woke up Mr. Random.

"You have to leave. Now." I said, fuming.

"Ok," he replied, groggily.

I just stood there, waiting, with my hand on my hip, as he shuffled around, trying to get dressed.

"Let's go! I'm late for work! I'm leaving and you can't be here!" I yelled.

"It's not what it looks like. E and I have known each other for years," he said, trying to explain.

"Yesss," I hissed. "But I don't know who the fuck you are, and this is MY house, so you have to get the fuck out of my house. NOW."

Apparently, I communicated my rage very clearly, because he left the house in nothing but his boxer shorts! He carried the rest of his stuff and didn't even put his shoes on fully! LOL

"Did you see his wiener?" CN asked me later.

"No. And he's lucky, because I would have ripped it off!!!" I replied.

E and I are going to have a loooooong chat this afternoon, when I get home from work.

Wow. I was a total bitch this weekend, huh?

Nightmare

Last night, I had what was one of the worst dreams of my life. I've had dreams where my parents die or where my dad was cheating on my mom. I've had dreams where my friends and family are upset, or that someone is harassing me. But last night, my dream played out more like a horror movie than a personal drama. It really freaked me out!!

MJ and I were trying to get to Philly to meet up with The Rat Pack. (This is the same group of 4 guys we hung out with on last year's NYC/Vermont trip. And we are trying to plan a trip to Philly next month, since two of The Rat Pack members live in Philly. So I'm assuming this is what my subconscious was thinking about when I had this dream.)

In the dream, for some reason, MJ and I didn't have access to our credit cards. We were stuck with just whatever cash we had on us. And it made more financial sense for us to take a Greyhound bus to Philly, rather than drive in MJ's car. So we got on the bus, where we were joined by KT and a couple members of The Rat Pack. (This makes no sense, because MJ and I are the only ones who do not live in New England, but what do you expect? This is a dream, after all.)

By the time the bus stops, we are exhausted. I don't know where we are, but it is a city of some kind. We don't go to a hotel. Instead, we go to a boarding house because it was cheaper. (Do boarding houses even exist anymore??) It may have been a hostel....I can't remember. We are still limited to whatever cash we have, at this point, so I think we were looking for somewhere to crash so we could figure out how to get to Philly the next day.

This hostel/boarding house was an old, early 20th century home. It was a late Victorian style, so it had a big front porch, huge front staircase, wide hallways, tall ceilings, big windows and large rooms. The boarding house was owned and operated by an elderly couple who creeped me out. Of course, even more disturbing, no one else thought they were creepy.

So we are all so broke that we can only afford to rent one very large bedroom upstairs. There are at least 5 of us. We take our suitcases up the big, main staircase to go find our room. I notice that the wallpaper in the house looks to be original, because it is water-damaged, faded and peeling. In fact, everything in the house looked original, from the carpet to the furniture to the doorknobs. Everything was a sort of beige or rose color. With dark wood paneling. It was kind of creepy. And quiet. Very, very quiet.

At the top of the staircase, there is a big hallway. Our room is at the end of the hall. Here's the really creepy part: on the floor of the hallway, in front of each closed bedroom door, there was a baby doll head. Each one had a different facial expression, and they all faced the door nearest to them. Some dolls were smiling, others were angry or terrified. They were all creepy. I mean, someone had obviously ripped the heads off of baby dolls and set them down like this in the hallway! And who's ever heard of a baby doll with angry or scared facial expressions???! I told my friends this place was creepy and I didn't want to stay. They thought I was nuts.

Again, I am the only person who seemed to have a problem with the creepiness. Great.

Our room had several beds, and everyone was so tired that they went to bed immediately. They didn't brush their teeth or even get into pajamas. They just crashed. Meanwhile, I cannot sleep for shit because I'm still thinking about the creepy baby heads in the hallway.

To make it even spookier, we are the only tenants in the place. It's eerily quiet and empty. Just us and the baby doll heads.

When we paid for our room, I had noticed there was a sign by the desk saying that meals were served at certain times. So I decided that I would go back down to the desk to see if it was time to eat yet. I couldn't bear to be near those baby heads anymore. I woke up my friend to tell him where I was going, tip-toed down the hallway, trying not to touch the baby doll heads (which moved on their own to turn and look at me with their varying facial expressions as I passed by!!!).

I made my way to the front desk downstairs, and asked if dinner was served yet. The wife told me that there was still an hour before it would be served. So I decided to make my way back upstairs to try and get my friends to leave this creepy place.

Then, something-- I can't remember what, maybe it was a little voice in my head-- tells me what is going on: the husband and wife who run the place are actually serial killers who are trying to make us their next victims!!!! I am totally freaked out by this realization, obviously. Then the little voice in my head tells me that depending on the expression of your room's baby doll head, you will know if the elderly couple likes you enough to let you live.

Yeah. At this point, even my dream self is like, "Dude, this is f**ked up. Get the hell outta here!!"

So now I need to know which expression our room's baby doll head has. I am back upstairs, walking slowly down the hallway. I know which rooms have dead bodies in them, because the baby doll heads have angry or scared looks on their faces. And of course, the baby doll heads are watching me again. Which is just freaking fantastic.

Sure enough, our room now has its own baby doll head. It had appeared while I had been downstairs!!! I didn't look at its expression -- at this point, I didn't care. We were all checking out right now, no questions asked. I wake everyone up and freak them out enough (I believe I was crying and screaming) to convince them that we need to leave -- NOW. I think they only agreed so that I would shut up and they could finally get some sleep!

We pack up all our stuff and head back down the main staircase. As we are waiting at the bottom of the stairs to check out (why we are taking the time to do this, I don't know), the old man flies down the stairs, holding a knife (or maybe it was a gun?) , trying to stop us from leaving, even if it means he has to kill us!!! We all scream and try to escape. The next thing I know, a large piece of wood falls off of the upstairs banister and impales the old man before he can hurt us! WHAM! It goes right through his torso, killing him instantly.

We must have either ignored or fought off the old lady, because I remember she was protesting our escape, too. We ran out of the house and down the street. That's when I realized we had been in Philly the whole time.

Ugh. No more Jersey Mike's before bedtime.

Ironic Ending

Thank you, everyone, for all the nice comments on the last post. CN was bummed about his cousin. On Thursday night, he asked me to come over, because he didn't feel well. He had a fever and was dizzy and his tummy was upset. He told me he had just called his mom to tell her that he would not be able to go to Alabama for the funeral because he was sick. I pointed out that whenever he gets stressed out, he feels sick, and that he would probably feel fine in the morning. But he was convinced he was sick, so he stuck to his guns.

The next morning, he felt fine. But it was too late -- his mom had already left for Alabama. I had to bite my tongue in order to stop myself from saying, "I told you so!" He's so funny -- whenever he's stressed out, his body just reacts like that -- he just gets sick for one day. It's very odd. Anyway, he felt really badly about not going to the funeral, but I told him everyone would understand.

So he and I ended up hanging out most of the weekend. Nothing really exciting, just the usual: errands, the gym, watching tv, lunch with MJ, yardwork...wow, we are an exciting couple, huh??

I have to say, the real highlight of my weekend was last night. I had coffee with Repo's ex, the girl he cheated on. With me. Yeah, file that under "Things I Never Thought Would Happen".

It all started last week, when I got an email from her on myspace. She apologized to me for everything that happened and wanted to meet for coffee. You could have knocked me over with a feather! I don't think I would've been more shocked if Princess Diana emailed me!

I thought this was very big of her, and I realized it probably took a lot of guts, so I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and agree to meet her for coffee. More than anything, I was curious to see what she had to say.

All weekend, I had my doubts. What if she was going to beat me up? What if I showed up, and Repo was with her? What if she is working as a double agent for Repo? What if she's just a huge bitch? Why is she doing this???

For those of you who may not know, ever since all the crap went down over a year ago, and I found out I was the "other woman", Repo has been making my life hell -- he has stalked me online, harassed me, left me mean comments and emails, and even tried to break me and CN apart (I won't go into details here). Repo is the main reason this blog is private. And every time I run into Repo, he retaliates. So to make a long story short, I almost live in fear of Repo, because he will stop at nothing to harass me, and I'm tired of it. So yesterday, I was a little worried that I would be inviting all of this crap back into my life.

By the time I got to Starbuck's, the last thing I needed was coffee! I was a bundle of nerves. I got in line and made my order. That's when I heard a tiny voice behind me:

"Virginia?"

I turned around to find a tiny, young girl. My first thought was that she's much prettier in person. And she smelled really good. (Is that a weird thing to say? I dunno.)

"Barbie?" I replied. (Not her real name -- I'll explain in a sec.)

We said hello, and then she proceeded to buy my coffee for me. I thought this was a nice gesture, and thanked her, but it didn't really break the ice. We had about 5 minutes of a very awkward silence as we waited on our coffees.

We grabbed a table and started off with small talk. She told me how the last time she came to Starbuck's, the girl thought her name was Barbie, and we had a good laugh, because her name sounds nothing like "Barbie". We talked about our jobs, our families, our friends and how we have both considered moving away from Columbia at certain points.

I began to relax and realize that she didn't have an agenda. She was not hostile or bitter or bitchy. She was just a naive 23 year old, recent college grad, trying to figure out life after college.

To say I could relate is an understatement. I was sitting across a small table from a 23 year old version of myself. Then, I saw that her hands were shaking, and I have to say, that kind of made my heart melt -- this girl was terrified of me! Of ME! It was so preposterous, I almost laughed about it. All this time, I was worried that she was going to rag me out for "ruining" her relationship with her boyfriend! Or show up with a posse of her friends to beat me up!

After we got to know each other a little bit, she finally opened up to me and gave me the dirt on the good stuff: what happened on her end of things when all the shit hit the fan. It turns out that she and Repo just broke up -- for good, this time -- only a week ago. She wanted to apologize to me about how he behaved and for not believing me when I tried to tell her what was going on. She said that she finally sees him for what he really is and can't believe how stupid she was.

I told her that she's not the first girl he's done this to, and then I proceeded to list off all the crap Repo had put me through, both during and after our relationship. She lit up like a firefly -- she had no idea he was like this to all girls. She thought that it was just her, and I could see the relief on her face. After that, we just compared notes and kept saying, "You too?!" -- because he made us both feel the same way during our relationships, and he did the same things to both of us. She even caught MRSA from him, just like I did.

Then we analyzed his behavior and his life, trying to figure out why he behaves the way he does. She thinks he's bi-polar, and I think he's got some serious narcissism going on. She also told me that his health is not very good -- he's gained a lot of weight, and he sleeps too much and eats nothing but fast food. She said he's been really down lately. We agreed that he had no one to blame but himself, because all he does is hurt people who care about him.

She informed me that he still goes to my gym (CRAP!) and told me he has a new car. She described it to me so that I can keep my eyes peeled. I informed her that assholes like this only make you appreciate the nice guys who do eventually come along -- she's pretty bitter and cynical about love right now, to say the least. I told her that having CN makes it all worthwhile in the end, and that everything is going to be ok. (She is still upset about the break-up. She had tears in her eyes when she was listing all the mean things Repo did to her. So I have to admit, I felt pretty sympathetic towards her. Poor thing.)

I also told her to hold on to her hat, because Repo is probably about to start harassing the bejeezus out of her. She said he'd already started. Oh dear. "No, it's ok, really. This is just karma, getting me. I have had this coming for a long time." -- This launched us into a big discussion about karma and ex-boyfriends, of course.

FOUR hours later, she and I were STILL talking. And I have to admit, I really like her! She's funny and independent and gutsy. It took a lot for her to approach me and apologize to me. She just wanted to make things right, and that meant a lot to me. Of course, now I feel badly about all the things I said about her, but she told me the same thing, so it's all water under the bridge.

You're not going to believe this, but I think I just made a new girlfriend! She even invited me to go shopping with her in Charlotte in a couple of weeks-- I think I will take her up on it. And apparently, we share more than the same taste in ex-boyfriends -- right before we parted, we realized we were wearing the same shoes.

I don't really know how to explain the emotions I am feeling about all of this. Have you ever gone to a funeral and met up with a long-lost relative or friend? It kind of felt like that. Your gut instinct is to be all happy and excited to talk to a nice person, but under the circumstances, you don't really feel like it's appropriate, because the situation that brought you together is sad and serious. And you feel kind of weird talking about anything other than that serious topic.

It was very surreal...but good. I feel really good about all of it.

Thirteen is the Loneliest Number

One of CN's cousins passed away yesterday. :( He was about my age. The autopsy results are still pending, but it looks like it was similar to what happened to Heath Ledger. I guess he had the flu and took a whole bunch of stuff. CN will leave tomorrow (Friday) morning for the funeral in Alabama (that's where his mother's family is from) and won't be back until Sunday. I haven't talked to CN about it a whole lot, because you know, sometimes people don't want to talk about stuff like that. But he did say he's bummed about it. So I made him some cookies to cheer him up.

Meanwhile, MJ's battening down the hatches in preparation for her mother's visit. So she will be tied up with that this weekend.

KT has moved to New York state, so she is gone now.

That leaves me on my own this weekend. So let's think of some fun/productive ways to spend the Weekend of Me.

Thirteen Things to Do Alone This Weekend

1. Clean my house! Ugh, it has been gravely neglected.

2. Organize papers, finances, recipes, photographs, etc.

3. Paint my coffee table (a pale, metallic blue color), which I have been meaning to do since JULY.

4. Hang my curtains (lightweight, sheer white cotton) -- another project left over from July's major house decorating binge with The Czarina. She cannot believe I haven't finished these projects, but I tell her that she is my muse and inspiration and I lose all passion when she is not near. *snort!* But seriously, she gets me all excited about decorating, but when she leaves, it's like the air is let out of a balloon. Or whatever. You know what I mean. She makes it sound fun.

5. Speaking of home decorating, CN has gotten me hooked on this home makeover show called Clean House. Have you seen it? It's kind of cheesy, but somehow, I am addicted. I love the hostess, Niecy! I just saw this one episode where they re-did this woman's bedroom. They painted the walls this color (only slightly more purple-y) and then everything else -- and I mean everything else -- was white. It looked amazing. I can't wait to watch more episodes this weekend!

6. That reminds me....I have almost 2 weeks' worth of stuff on my DVR to watch....

7. And a Netflix movie to watch. It's a horror movie...I think it's about a girl who is possessed by the devil...I can't remember. And no, it's not The Exorcist.

8. Sammy needs a bath, BIG time. And a thorough brushing of the teeth. His breath could stun an ox right now. I'm not kidding. He woke me out of a dead sleep the other day. It is truly heinous.

9. My backyard? Totally disgusting. Weeds, pine straw strewn everywhere... not to mention untold amounts of dog poop. I am currently in denial about the abysmal state of my back yard. I really should get to that this weekend at some point. Shoot....E has my gardening gloves....note to self........

10. There is an IU game on this weekend, too. (Like how I keep coming up with excuses to watch tv? LOL) I should kill two birds with one stone and watch it while I run on a treadmill at the gym. On an unrelated note, I kicked ASS at the gym on Monday -- 2.5 miles of running, sometimes getting as fast as 6.5 mph!!! Go me! Oh, and that was after my hour-long weight lifting class. I paid for it with a quarter-sized blister on each foot. Ouch!

11. Finish reading the books I checked out about The Bahamas!!! 34 days until the cruise...we got our tickets in the mail this week! Woo Hoo!!

12. My friend Super and I have been talking about having a doggy play date. She has a Jack Russell terrier. I should give her a call. She and I have never really hung out on our own before.

13. Go for coffee with Repo's (now) ex-girlfriend. Yup. You read that correctly...Is your jaw dropping? Because it should be. If you need the back story because you're lost or have fuzzy recollections about all the old drama, look at my post from 2/1/07.

Tee hee, aren't I mean for not divulging juicy details? Ha ha!

Not Myself Today

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

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

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

"Ok," he said, slightly shrugging.

Gotta love hindsight.

It should have gone like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am?" I sniffed, voice quivering.

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