Now, now, don't get excited. This post has nothing to do with anyone's V Card. I know I am not the only perverted person out there, so I figured I'd establish that right off the bat.
I figured I'd summarize my first month or so of living in Richmond. It's kind of a surreal experience, moving back to a town you haven't lived in since you were 12. My hometown is only an hour and a half away from Richmond, so I've visited many many times since then, but as a visitor, I have never actually driven in Richmond. So although the street names are familiar, navigating them is something else. But that's the fun part. What I forgot about were the toll highways. You don't really see them down south. And people don't let you in when you need to change lanes. Guess I'm not deep in Southern Hospitality anymore. Although I will say that men here do open doors for ladies, something I've always appreciated. A guy actually apologized to me the other day for not getting the door for me. *sigh* Southern Gentlemen are the best.
So far, overall, I love Richmond. It's bigger, so there are more shopping, cultural, recreational and dating opportunities. Hooray for that. Richmond is also a pretty classy town, I have to say. Savannah and even Columbia were both a little raggedy, with litter everywhere, poorly maintained streets and just a general air of poverty and sadness. Richmond is clean and neat and well-maintained, from what I have seen so far. Gone are the hipsters of Savannah and the Good Ol' Boys of Columbia. People here seem to be more genteel, as cheesy as that sounds. Now, don't get me wrong. Some of my best friends are hipsters and Good Ol' Boys. But I will never really be part of either of those groups. I just feel like I fit in here better. People here are less pretentious than hipsters and more cultured than Good Ol' Boys. It's a good balance, in my opinion.
The city has a lot going for it, and I can't wait to explore everything it has to offer. There's all kinds of parks and activities on the James River, which cuts right through town. There's a neat old part of town called Shockoe Slip, full of bars and restaurants and shops. I live near Carytown, which is a great boutique/cafe area of town. The state capital and all the state agencies are here, as well as a major university (VCU). One of the things I always liked about Columbia was that due to the state government and the major university being there, it always made the city full of life and activity. It's the same here. There are several museums and tons of historical things here, like the church where Patrick Henry gave his "Give Me Liberty" speech -- pretty cool! There's lots of Colonial America and Civil War history around here. Today I am going to visit the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. One of my friends from Savannah is doing a reading there today, so I told her I'd stop by and see her.
It's a good thing my family is so close by, because otherwise, I'd be super lonely. I don't really work with anyone who's in my demographic, unlike my job in Savannah. And I haven't met too many of my neighbors yet -- it's not fun to strike up conversations when it's 30 degrees outside. So I spend most of my time alone. I know it's only temporary, and I have ideas for how to meet people, but it still stinks for the time being! I guess I had it easy in Savannah -- there were tons of young professionals to hang out with. It's just going to take time. I'm going to join the gym and also this organization (looks like so much fun, but they don't really do much until March). I also need to find a church (I've been church-shopping with no luck so far). There's also a roller derby team here, but I would have to psych myself up for that. It looks like fun, and a great way to meet girlfriends, but I am such a wuss when it comes to pain and haven't been on rollerskates since I was about 10.
Speaking of being 10 years old, on Monday, I am going to have lunch with my best friend from 4th grade. How's that for crazy? She and I have been facebook friends for a while, but I don't think I've seen her since then. She now lives in Richmond, too, so I suggested we meet up.
Next weekend, The Czarina is getting married, so she's all in a tizzy. It should be fun, though. If there's one thing my mom is good at, it's throwing parties. I'll see pretty much every friend of my family. (Is it a sign that I'm getting older when I say that I like hanging out with my parents' friends as much as I like hanging out with my own?) I'm really happy for my mom. And my stepdad is great.
I absolutely love my new place. It's like it was designed to hold my stuff -- everything fits perfectly. As soon as I get most of the decorating done, I will share pics. The only thing I wish it had was a fireplace. Then it would be perfect.
It's totally freezing here, and my wardrobe is not equipped for it. I've been hunting for sweaters like a fiend. From what I've been told, I won't be able to get out my flip-flops until April. Aw, man!
I'll blog more about my new job and my dating life soon. Thanks, as always, for reading! Please leave comments so I can feel connected to human beings and not continue to have full conversations with my dog! I am so lonely!
Showing posts with label my childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my childhood. Show all posts
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Friday, August 15, 2008
My Little and How Camp Traumatized Me
I was recently matched up with a Little Sis from Big Brothers Big Sisters. YAY!!!
Her name is V. She's 11 and about to start 6th grade. I was really excited to hear that she is this age, because middle school was the most difficult time for me when I was a kid. That's when I was picked on by bullies and when I felt at my most awkward -- glasses AND braces. To make it even worse, I was the first girl in my class to hit puberty. It was a rough time. So I am excited to be there to support her and be someone she can talk to, because I know how mean 12 year olds can be. I'm hoping that I can help her have enough confidence to weather the storm, you know?
She's really nervous to start 6th grade next week. I told her that the first couple of weeks might be a little sticky, but after that, she'll be a pro. Luckily, lockers don't seem to phase her. I, on the other hand, would have daily battles with the lock on my locker throughout my 6-12 grade years. My stubborn locks caused me to be tardy many times. I never did get the hang of combination locks, and I still avoid them to this day. So I was relieved to hear that she found them to be of no concern.
Her concern is more about getting to the right classroom at the right time. I can totally understand. A natural rules follower myself, this was my secondary concern when I was a student. (The first, of course, being those g-d combination locks.) So I told her that the teachers usually give everyone a break for the first week or so, until you get your little routine down. I told her by the third day, she will feel pretty comfy with where things are. She seemed relieved to hear this.
V and her little (biological) sister live with their mom and grandma. They just got a dog who looks like a pit bull mix. Her name is Zoe and she's very sweet. What I think is really cool is that the mom, the younger sister and V are all cloggers. And apparently, pretty good at it -- V just tried out for the competitive team, and she made it! If you are not familiar with this part of the country, you might not know about clogging. It's like....Riverdance. Kinda. But more country-music oriented (IMHO). And there's outfits. Colorful, sequined, knee-length dresses with crinolines that they wear for their recitals and competitions. This is right up my alley -- bring on the girly-girl stuff!! Let me see if I can find a video so you can see clogging in action. It's pretty cool! Take a look at an example:
Other than clogging, V is into Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers. So I am rapidly becoming acquainted with this whole pre-teen phenomenon. Apparently, there's a lot of albums and 3-D concerts on the Disney Channel. Oh, and Nick is the hottest Jonas Brother. That's what I've learned so far.
V and I hung out last night. We took Sammy on a walk in her neighborhood and she told me all about camp. She just went to camp for the first time, and she loved it. I was very relieved to hear this, because I. HATED. CAMP. I thought it was the most horrible idea ever, and begged my mother to never ever take me there again. The Czarina, always the penny-pincher, was happy to oblige this request. So aside from one horrible week the summer after 5th grade, I was spared this experience.
Why did I hate camp so much? The main reason was that it seemed everyone brought their best friend with them to camp. I apparently missed this memo and arrived solo at Camp Merri-Mac, which is located near Asheville, NC and is probably a wonderful camp, if you are not 11 year old VB. But I was a naive 11 year old, so when I was being dropped off at camp, I was a ball of excitement, ready to pack my days full of all the fun activities you find at camp.
I remember that all the cabins were named after celestial bodies: moons, stars, planets, etc. I remember getting excited about the fact that my cabin was called "The Milky Way", because that is and always has been my favorite candy bar. "This is a good sign," I thought. So I got to my cabin, greeted by my super nice counselor, Jodie. Jodie, I would find out later, was from Michigan, which at the time seemed as exotic as India to me. (I didn't get out a lot.) The first thing Jodie did was give me a "fun size" Milky Way candy bar. So far, camp ROCKED. I remember thinking, "Ok, Mom, you can go away now!" (Actually, I think this a lot...but anyway.)
After talking with my mom for a minute, Jodie took me inside the cabin and announced my arrival and introduced me to the other girls in my cabin. They all said "Hi" and then went right back to what they were doing. The bliss of summer camp all came to a screeching halt when I realized that all the other girls in my cabin were already paired up, because they had gotten that "bring your best friend or camp will suck donkey balls" memo. And they had no interest in me whatsoever. They were gathered in pairs, talking excitedly as they unpacked. I was being ignored. Not that I am an attention-seeking person, but I was old enough to realize they were intentionally sending me an unfriendly vibe.
Since I was new to the whole camp idea, I had a lot of questions for the other campers. Where do I put my toiletries? What time do we get up in the morning? My questions were met with one word answers. I got the impression that they all just wanted me to leave them alone. And since I was extra-super shy and possessed the self-esteem of a homeless crackhead prostitute at that stage in life, I didn't do anything about it. So I spent the week alone, silent and shunned.
I definitely got a very snooty vibe from the other girls. I remember one of them looking at me with disgust when I told her that I hadn't started shaving my legs yet. I still remember what town she was from: Jupiter, Florida. She had long blonde hair, subscribed to Seventeen and shopped at some mysterious place called "The Gap". She already looked like a teenager. I, on the other hand, still had baby fat and secretly played with Barbies and wore clothes my mother picked out at Stein-Mart. She watched 90210. I watched Disney movies. Forming a picture in your head yet? Yeah, it was kind of sad, really. This Florida Girl was sort of the ring-leader and enabled the snootiness to percolate in the cabin for the entire week. I can still see her face when I close my eyes. Brown eyes, bangs, a turned up nose.
My counselor, Jodie, was extremely nice and I believe, totally clueless about how Florida Girl treated me. I still like the name Jodie because of her. Jodie = fun size Milky Way bars. It's a good association to have.
Anyway, there was only one other girl in the cabin who shared my fate. Her bed was directly under mine. We shared a bunk because we were the only two girls who hadn't arrived with best friends from home. I can't remember her name, either. But I remember she had frizzy brown hair and big red Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. She liked animals and she talked too much. So she was an even bigger dork than I was. She was easy pickings for the snooty group in our cabin. By default, she and I hung out together for the week, despite the fact that I didn't really enjoy her company. But I do remember sticking up for her when someone said something mean about her.
Ah, pre-teen girls.............they are possibly the most evil and cruel group of humans on Earth.
Where was I? Oh yes. The rest of camp was not very memorable. I remember lanyards and archery and swimming and Shepherd's Pie. But mostly, I remember feeling rejected, extremely lonely and homesick. It was the first time I had ever been away from home longer than a night. It was the first time in my life I had no one to talk to or "play" with. (Remember, I am from a big family, so being alone is a foreign concept to me, and very scary, actually.) I remember crying quietly into my pillow, so the mean girls wouldn't hear me and make fun of me. It was horrible!
By mid-week, I was counting down the days until my mother would arrive to pick me up. Finally, she came! I have never loaded my stuff into any vehicle so quickly in my entire life. Then, she and I did the COOLEST thing that almost erased my traumatic week at camp: we stayed in a bed & breakfast in Asheville and went to Biltmore the next day before we drove home to Virginia. I don't think my mom knows how much better this made the whole experience for me. If it hadn't been for that portion of my time in the Asheville, NC area, I would vow never to near that horrible part of the country again.
To this day, I have a tendency to go out of my way to make new people feel welcome, or at least not lonely and shunned. And I also have a tendency to hang out with people who are alone, even if I don't enjoy their company. Weird how things that happen to you in childhood stick with you.
Did you go to camp? Did you like it?
Her name is V. She's 11 and about to start 6th grade. I was really excited to hear that she is this age, because middle school was the most difficult time for me when I was a kid. That's when I was picked on by bullies and when I felt at my most awkward -- glasses AND braces. To make it even worse, I was the first girl in my class to hit puberty. It was a rough time. So I am excited to be there to support her and be someone she can talk to, because I know how mean 12 year olds can be. I'm hoping that I can help her have enough confidence to weather the storm, you know?
She's really nervous to start 6th grade next week. I told her that the first couple of weeks might be a little sticky, but after that, she'll be a pro. Luckily, lockers don't seem to phase her. I, on the other hand, would have daily battles with the lock on my locker throughout my 6-12 grade years. My stubborn locks caused me to be tardy many times. I never did get the hang of combination locks, and I still avoid them to this day. So I was relieved to hear that she found them to be of no concern.
Her concern is more about getting to the right classroom at the right time. I can totally understand. A natural rules follower myself, this was my secondary concern when I was a student. (The first, of course, being those g-d combination locks.) So I told her that the teachers usually give everyone a break for the first week or so, until you get your little routine down. I told her by the third day, she will feel pretty comfy with where things are. She seemed relieved to hear this.
V and her little (biological) sister live with their mom and grandma. They just got a dog who looks like a pit bull mix. Her name is Zoe and she's very sweet. What I think is really cool is that the mom, the younger sister and V are all cloggers. And apparently, pretty good at it -- V just tried out for the competitive team, and she made it! If you are not familiar with this part of the country, you might not know about clogging. It's like....Riverdance. Kinda. But more country-music oriented (IMHO). And there's outfits. Colorful, sequined, knee-length dresses with crinolines that they wear for their recitals and competitions. This is right up my alley -- bring on the girly-girl stuff!! Let me see if I can find a video so you can see clogging in action. It's pretty cool! Take a look at an example:
Other than clogging, V is into Hannah Montana and The Jonas Brothers. So I am rapidly becoming acquainted with this whole pre-teen phenomenon. Apparently, there's a lot of albums and 3-D concerts on the Disney Channel. Oh, and Nick is the hottest Jonas Brother. That's what I've learned so far.
V and I hung out last night. We took Sammy on a walk in her neighborhood and she told me all about camp. She just went to camp for the first time, and she loved it. I was very relieved to hear this, because I. HATED. CAMP. I thought it was the most horrible idea ever, and begged my mother to never ever take me there again. The Czarina, always the penny-pincher, was happy to oblige this request. So aside from one horrible week the summer after 5th grade, I was spared this experience.
Why did I hate camp so much? The main reason was that it seemed everyone brought their best friend with them to camp. I apparently missed this memo and arrived solo at Camp Merri-Mac, which is located near Asheville, NC and is probably a wonderful camp, if you are not 11 year old VB. But I was a naive 11 year old, so when I was being dropped off at camp, I was a ball of excitement, ready to pack my days full of all the fun activities you find at camp.
I remember that all the cabins were named after celestial bodies: moons, stars, planets, etc. I remember getting excited about the fact that my cabin was called "The Milky Way", because that is and always has been my favorite candy bar. "This is a good sign," I thought. So I got to my cabin, greeted by my super nice counselor, Jodie. Jodie, I would find out later, was from Michigan, which at the time seemed as exotic as India to me. (I didn't get out a lot.) The first thing Jodie did was give me a "fun size" Milky Way candy bar. So far, camp ROCKED. I remember thinking, "Ok, Mom, you can go away now!" (Actually, I think this a lot...but anyway.)
After talking with my mom for a minute, Jodie took me inside the cabin and announced my arrival and introduced me to the other girls in my cabin. They all said "Hi" and then went right back to what they were doing. The bliss of summer camp all came to a screeching halt when I realized that all the other girls in my cabin were already paired up, because they had gotten that "bring your best friend or camp will suck donkey balls" memo. And they had no interest in me whatsoever. They were gathered in pairs, talking excitedly as they unpacked. I was being ignored. Not that I am an attention-seeking person, but I was old enough to realize they were intentionally sending me an unfriendly vibe.
Since I was new to the whole camp idea, I had a lot of questions for the other campers. Where do I put my toiletries? What time do we get up in the morning? My questions were met with one word answers. I got the impression that they all just wanted me to leave them alone. And since I was extra-super shy and possessed the self-esteem of a homeless crackhead prostitute at that stage in life, I didn't do anything about it. So I spent the week alone, silent and shunned.
I definitely got a very snooty vibe from the other girls. I remember one of them looking at me with disgust when I told her that I hadn't started shaving my legs yet. I still remember what town she was from: Jupiter, Florida. She had long blonde hair, subscribed to Seventeen and shopped at some mysterious place called "The Gap". She already looked like a teenager. I, on the other hand, still had baby fat and secretly played with Barbies and wore clothes my mother picked out at Stein-Mart. She watched 90210. I watched Disney movies. Forming a picture in your head yet? Yeah, it was kind of sad, really. This Florida Girl was sort of the ring-leader and enabled the snootiness to percolate in the cabin for the entire week. I can still see her face when I close my eyes. Brown eyes, bangs, a turned up nose.
My counselor, Jodie, was extremely nice and I believe, totally clueless about how Florida Girl treated me. I still like the name Jodie because of her. Jodie = fun size Milky Way bars. It's a good association to have.
Anyway, there was only one other girl in the cabin who shared my fate. Her bed was directly under mine. We shared a bunk because we were the only two girls who hadn't arrived with best friends from home. I can't remember her name, either. But I remember she had frizzy brown hair and big red Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. She liked animals and she talked too much. So she was an even bigger dork than I was. She was easy pickings for the snooty group in our cabin. By default, she and I hung out together for the week, despite the fact that I didn't really enjoy her company. But I do remember sticking up for her when someone said something mean about her.
Ah, pre-teen girls.............they are possibly the most evil and cruel group of humans on Earth.
Where was I? Oh yes. The rest of camp was not very memorable. I remember lanyards and archery and swimming and Shepherd's Pie. But mostly, I remember feeling rejected, extremely lonely and homesick. It was the first time I had ever been away from home longer than a night. It was the first time in my life I had no one to talk to or "play" with. (Remember, I am from a big family, so being alone is a foreign concept to me, and very scary, actually.) I remember crying quietly into my pillow, so the mean girls wouldn't hear me and make fun of me. It was horrible!
By mid-week, I was counting down the days until my mother would arrive to pick me up. Finally, she came! I have never loaded my stuff into any vehicle so quickly in my entire life. Then, she and I did the COOLEST thing that almost erased my traumatic week at camp: we stayed in a bed & breakfast in Asheville and went to Biltmore the next day before we drove home to Virginia. I don't think my mom knows how much better this made the whole experience for me. If it hadn't been for that portion of my time in the Asheville, NC area, I would vow never to near that horrible part of the country again.
To this day, I have a tendency to go out of my way to make new people feel welcome, or at least not lonely and shunned. And I also have a tendency to hang out with people who are alone, even if I don't enjoy their company. Weird how things that happen to you in childhood stick with you.
Did you go to camp? Did you like it?
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thursday 13
Holy cow, have I had some serious writers' block today. I have been trying to think of something for at least an hour now! But since I'm working so much, not a whole lot has been going on. And I didn't feel like whining about my lack of a life today. Plus, I'm tired, so it can't be anything too mentally involved. So this works pretty well, and I promise I won't be gross:
1. Left side of my jaw -- this is what happens when you play violin for 10 years. Please, warn your children now.
2. Upper back, on left (?) shoulder blade -- I had a mole removed when I was about 10. It was big, so there were stitches. A plastic surgeon was brought in to prevent a huge scar from forming. This was my mother's idea. She was worried about my wearing a backless prom dress. Nevermind that when I grew olders, I was never allowed to wear a backless anything...
3. Left shin -- A big, scary dog was barking at me. So I did what any 7 year old would do. I tried to climb up a bookcase to get away from it. I sorta hit the corner of an iron flower pot on the way up. Trauma ensued. Weird trivia fact: CN has a scar in the same place, and it looks JUST like mine.
4. Right forearm -- Burned my arm taking a giant cheesecake out of the oven. It was worth it.
5. Left elbow -- Bike wreck at my 8th birthday party. I had only recently learned how to ride a bike, and participating in a race on a looped gravel driveway seemed like a good idea. More trauma.
6. Left eyebrow -- I was a baby. Dad was babysitting me for the first time. The phone rang, and Dad left me on the bed, alone, while he went to answer it. I took this opportunity to fall off the bed, hitting a table on the way down. A couple inches difference, and I would have knocked out an eyeball. Needless to say, Dad didn't babysit me anymore after that. I now have a thin, horizontal scar which ended up working out really well -- it's perfectly aligned to where I tweeze my eyebrow!
7. Belly -- In addition to other places, this is where I have a prominent chicken pox scar. Unfortunately for me, I came down with the chicken pox just in time to miss Nikki Arnold's 8th birthday party. It was close to my own birthday, if I remember correctly. But I was more upset about missing Nikki's birthday party because she was the most popular girl in our class.
8. Left shin, just below the flower pot scar -- a terrifyingly loooong scar from what I like to call The Disposable Razor Incident. *shudders*
9. Left thigh -- In the 2nd grade, I had a stonewashed denim purse. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I kept a pencil in it. One day, as I was getting out of a car (or was it a bus? I can't remember) to go to school, the tip of the pencil had worked its way through the fabric and poked me in the thigh. You can still see the pencil lead in my leg!
10. My ass -- MRSA. If you really want the details, do a search for MRSA on this blog. I don't wanna talk about it.
11. My bottom lip -- Another baby story. I was holding a bottle in my mouth. I was busy walking around and didn't feel like using my hands to hold the bottle, so I just clamped down on the bottle nipple with my teeth to hold onto it. Aah! My hands were free to help me balance! Too bad it didn't work. I fell, face first. The lid on the bottle cut my bottom lip. I still have the semi-circle scar.
12. Fingers -- From a summer spent at the neighborhood pool when I was in middle school. I was trying to learn how to dive, but I kept scraping my fingers on the bottom of the pool, because I hated opening my eyes under water, so I could never actually see the bottom or sides of the pool. And in case you've forgotten: scrape + chlorine = ouch. I don't dive anymore.
13. Lower back -- A souvenir from Dr. Nazi, the evil dermatologist who removed a small mole from my lower back (yes, I am a moley person) without any local anesthetic. She basically melon-balled me. OUCH. I do not recommend. Definitely ask for the novocaine.
Now that I have just written this, it sounds eerily familiar. Have I already written this same post?? I don't know. I'm too tired to go look. If I did, I apologize.
Share some scar stories with me!! Nothing gross, please. Do you have any interesting scars?
Thirteen Scars on My Body
1. Left side of my jaw -- this is what happens when you play violin for 10 years. Please, warn your children now.
2. Upper back, on left (?) shoulder blade -- I had a mole removed when I was about 10. It was big, so there were stitches. A plastic surgeon was brought in to prevent a huge scar from forming. This was my mother's idea. She was worried about my wearing a backless prom dress. Nevermind that when I grew olders, I was never allowed to wear a backless anything...
3. Left shin -- A big, scary dog was barking at me. So I did what any 7 year old would do. I tried to climb up a bookcase to get away from it. I sorta hit the corner of an iron flower pot on the way up. Trauma ensued. Weird trivia fact: CN has a scar in the same place, and it looks JUST like mine.
4. Right forearm -- Burned my arm taking a giant cheesecake out of the oven. It was worth it.
5. Left elbow -- Bike wreck at my 8th birthday party. I had only recently learned how to ride a bike, and participating in a race on a looped gravel driveway seemed like a good idea. More trauma.
6. Left eyebrow -- I was a baby. Dad was babysitting me for the first time. The phone rang, and Dad left me on the bed, alone, while he went to answer it. I took this opportunity to fall off the bed, hitting a table on the way down. A couple inches difference, and I would have knocked out an eyeball. Needless to say, Dad didn't babysit me anymore after that. I now have a thin, horizontal scar which ended up working out really well -- it's perfectly aligned to where I tweeze my eyebrow!
7. Belly -- In addition to other places, this is where I have a prominent chicken pox scar. Unfortunately for me, I came down with the chicken pox just in time to miss Nikki Arnold's 8th birthday party. It was close to my own birthday, if I remember correctly. But I was more upset about missing Nikki's birthday party because she was the most popular girl in our class.
8. Left shin, just below the flower pot scar -- a terrifyingly loooong scar from what I like to call The Disposable Razor Incident. *shudders*
9. Left thigh -- In the 2nd grade, I had a stonewashed denim purse. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I kept a pencil in it. One day, as I was getting out of a car (or was it a bus? I can't remember) to go to school, the tip of the pencil had worked its way through the fabric and poked me in the thigh. You can still see the pencil lead in my leg!
10. My ass -- MRSA. If you really want the details, do a search for MRSA on this blog. I don't wanna talk about it.
11. My bottom lip -- Another baby story. I was holding a bottle in my mouth. I was busy walking around and didn't feel like using my hands to hold the bottle, so I just clamped down on the bottle nipple with my teeth to hold onto it. Aah! My hands were free to help me balance! Too bad it didn't work. I fell, face first. The lid on the bottle cut my bottom lip. I still have the semi-circle scar.
12. Fingers -- From a summer spent at the neighborhood pool when I was in middle school. I was trying to learn how to dive, but I kept scraping my fingers on the bottom of the pool, because I hated opening my eyes under water, so I could never actually see the bottom or sides of the pool. And in case you've forgotten: scrape + chlorine = ouch. I don't dive anymore.
13. Lower back -- A souvenir from Dr. Nazi, the evil dermatologist who removed a small mole from my lower back (yes, I am a moley person) without any local anesthetic. She basically melon-balled me. OUCH. I do not recommend. Definitely ask for the novocaine.
Now that I have just written this, it sounds eerily familiar. Have I already written this same post?? I don't know. I'm too tired to go look. If I did, I apologize.
Share some scar stories with me!! Nothing gross, please. Do you have any interesting scars?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Quiz Answers
Alright, people. Let's go over the quiz answers before I announce the winner.
1. I have never been to California. I have never been west of Kansas, actually.
2. I have a seriously difficult time avoiding shoe sales or the makeup counters.
3. I have never been a telemarketer, because I hate telemarketers. If you answered this one incorrectly, perhaps you need to read this post.
4. My dogs are Boston Terriers. In case you don't know what that kind of dog looks like, here is a pic of my Sammy. And my boobs:
Now that you have seen my boobs, I don't want any whining about the lack of boobage on this blog.
5. I drive a piece-of-shit Pontiac. True to form, it is currently in the shop. As soon as I find a ride to the mechanic's after work, I can have my stupid car back (oh, the joy) for a measly $160. It's still cheaper than a car payment, I guess...
6. Not very many people got this one -- The name "Virginia Belle" is one of the nicknames my dad used to call me. That's where I got the name. NOT from the nudie girl. Major props to peeps who got this -- it has been mentioned a whopping ONE time in this blog's history. Gold stars for you!
7. Ok, ok, this was kind of a trick question. Do I like camping? Do I like the beach? No, and yes, respectively. But I would rather go to NYC than anywhere in the whole world. Yes, even Italy, which is something I never thought I'd say. Very few people got this one, either. So don't feel badly if you missed it.
8. I spent my undergrads at Indiana (Go Hoosiers!!) and then went to South Carolina for library school (so, yes, if you are a librarian, that means you did indeed go to grad school).
9. I eat the same thing for breakfast pretty much every morning. I am weird. I can play Tetris, Scattergories and Taboo for days on end. I am obsessive. I break out into a cold sweat when presented with brown crickets, diving or heights. I am a wuss. So that leaves A) I am a librarian and I love it. I cannot imagine doing anything else. NOT!!!!
10. And yes, I have dated a guy with three balls, a jerk who ate half my dinner and a guy who ended up being gay. Please, hold your applause. *takes a bow* And this may/may not have been a flawed question, as I cannot find any evidence in previous posts about the gay guy I dated in college. So if you were scratching your head on that one, my bad. I don't think I mentioned it. If you want the whole story, remind me to post it. My friends IRL (in real life) probably all know it, because they like to laugh at me, and this is a good factoid for that purpose.
So if you took the quiz (there were 27 of you, which makes me happy, because that is my favorite number), I am saying "Thank you! You are cool!" But I'm sure you are thinking, "Shut up and tell us who won!"
To which I reply: MJ cheated and signed up her dog to take the quiz, so that she could take it a second time, because she didn't get 100% the first time around. So actually, the winner of the quiz, with a perfect score of 100 is: Tater.
Don't let that face fool you -- he has an amazing ability to listen and remember things. And although he has never seen me naked, I'm sure he is rather ambivalent about the opportunity. He has already seen what I look like, although probably not well, since he has an eye condition. Naked pics or PG-rated pics would probably be the same to him. So unfortunately for my readers, my fractionally-anonymous clothed and/or nekkid body will remain internet-proofed. Um, as far as I know, anyway.
I had a good weekend, aside from my car acting up. The dashboard light lit up again. It says "Service Engine Soon" but it might as well say "You Drive a Piece of Shit". Anyway, it's fixed now, and waiting on me to go shell out $160 to pay for the "stuck open thermostat" which may be mechanic-speak for "my kid's braces". Ugh. How the hell can replacing one dinky thermostat cost so damn much?? I can buy a thermometer from the drugstore for about $5.00 -- cant' they just use that? I guess I should stop complaining. Normally, my repairs are about $300.
Let's move on, shall we? Ok. I'm trying to focus on the upside: CN is picking me up after work today to take me to go get my car. Aw, what a good boyfriend!! +500 points.
Speaking of him, he is involved in the highlight of my weekend. Without this highlight, my weekend would have been nothing but lazy slothdom: watching movies, eating candy, baking, cooking, board games, shopping, napping.....*yawn!*
Where was I? Oh yes. On Saturday, I went with CN to go meet up with his parents for lunch. We met each other halfway in-between Columbia (where CN and I are) and Barnwell (where CN's parents are). I am referring to the metropolis that is Neeses, SC. (Nudie pic for anyone reading this who has actually been to Neeses, SC -- pending evidentiary proof, of course.)
So we meet up in Neeses for lunch. Which is difficult to do, considering Neeses (pop. 407) is so small that there AREN'T any restaurants. Not even fast food ones. At first look, this might seem to be a stumbling block in our plans, but we do have a solitary dining choice: the grocery store.
Oh yes, you read that correctly. The Piggly-Wiggly in Neeses, SC has a built-in restaurant. They have fantastic soft serve ice cream! They serve breakfast, even! They have nightly specials! And senior citizen discounts! And greasy, laminated menus! And tables that are 25% smaller than they should be! As if this isn't enough, here is the kicker:
If you go to the meat department, and pick out something you want to eat (whether it's a steak or 20 chicken wings or 1 lb of ground beef), you can take it into the restaurant, and they will cook it for you AND give you a choice of baked potato or french fries for only an additional charge of...........drumroll, please...........$1.88!!!
This is, according to CN's dad, THE. COOLEST.THING. EVER. Which cracks me up, because my dad would have thought it was the coolest thing ever.
So we go to the meat department, and everyone selects a steak except me.
"Um, I'm kind of in the mood for a burger. They have burgers, right?" I mumbled sheepishly.
All three of them stopped dead, holding packages of raw meat in their hands. They turned to look at me in unison, shocked and awed that I am not rummaging through the steaks.
"But you can pick anything you want! Anything! And they will cook it!" said CN's dad, astonished.
"Oh, come on now, getcha a steak," said CN's mom.
"It's only $1.88, what's wrong with you?" said CN, teasingly.
"I'm just.....in the mood for a burger....is that ok?" I asked.
"Oh, but getcha a steak, now, come on," said his mom.
"You don't want a steak?" continued his dad, still amazed that I would want to eat something other than a steak. The man was seriously shocked, y'all. It was almost as if I'd told him I honestly believed the world was flat.
"But I don't want a steak. Am I allowed to get something other than a steak?" I whispered to CN.
"Of course you are. We just always get steaks. You can get a burger, too. But just pick up a steak. It will make my dad feel better," CN explained.
"You can take it home with you, it's no big deal. Just get both," his mother explained, under her breath.
As soon as I grabbed a steak, CN's dad seemed to feel a lot better. So when we ordered, I got a cheeseburger in addition to my steak.
Now, you might be thinking this is a really strange interaction. Why are three people telling a 28 year old woman what she should eat for lunch? That's absurd. And you would be correct in your beliefs. But I was strangely comforted by their insistence. Why? Because my father used to do the SAME THING to all of us when we were growing up. From the time I was in diapers, I would have to listen to his comments every time I ate:
"You're eating that? When we have leftover turkey? Oh, you should go get some of that turkey."
"Don't you want to put some pepper on that? You really should put some pepper on it."
"You're eating that all wrong. You can't put maple syrup on that. No one puts maple syrup on that. What's wrong with you? You are ruining it by putting maple syrup on it."
So I am used to having people tell me what I should eat/not eat and how to eat it "properly". I am also used to ignoring them and eating what I damn well please. :)
My dad died almost three years ago. I miss his food criticism. It was nice to hear it from someone. I like CN's parents. They are a lot like mine.
1. I have never been to California. I have never been west of Kansas, actually.
2. I have a seriously difficult time avoiding shoe sales or the makeup counters.
3. I have never been a telemarketer, because I hate telemarketers. If you answered this one incorrectly, perhaps you need to read this post.
4. My dogs are Boston Terriers. In case you don't know what that kind of dog looks like, here is a pic of my Sammy. And my boobs:
Now that you have seen my boobs, I don't want any whining about the lack of boobage on this blog.5. I drive a piece-of-shit Pontiac. True to form, it is currently in the shop. As soon as I find a ride to the mechanic's after work, I can have my stupid car back (oh, the joy) for a measly $160. It's still cheaper than a car payment, I guess...
6. Not very many people got this one -- The name "Virginia Belle" is one of the nicknames my dad used to call me. That's where I got the name. NOT from the nudie girl. Major props to peeps who got this -- it has been mentioned a whopping ONE time in this blog's history. Gold stars for you!
7. Ok, ok, this was kind of a trick question. Do I like camping? Do I like the beach? No, and yes, respectively. But I would rather go to NYC than anywhere in the whole world. Yes, even Italy, which is something I never thought I'd say. Very few people got this one, either. So don't feel badly if you missed it.
8. I spent my undergrads at Indiana (Go Hoosiers!!) and then went to South Carolina for library school (so, yes, if you are a librarian, that means you did indeed go to grad school).
9. I eat the same thing for breakfast pretty much every morning. I am weird. I can play Tetris, Scattergories and Taboo for days on end. I am obsessive. I break out into a cold sweat when presented with brown crickets, diving or heights. I am a wuss. So that leaves A) I am a librarian and I love it. I cannot imagine doing anything else. NOT!!!!
10. And yes, I have dated a guy with three balls, a jerk who ate half my dinner and a guy who ended up being gay. Please, hold your applause. *takes a bow* And this may/may not have been a flawed question, as I cannot find any evidence in previous posts about the gay guy I dated in college. So if you were scratching your head on that one, my bad. I don't think I mentioned it. If you want the whole story, remind me to post it. My friends IRL (in real life) probably all know it, because they like to laugh at me, and this is a good factoid for that purpose.
So if you took the quiz (there were 27 of you, which makes me happy, because that is my favorite number), I am saying "Thank you! You are cool!" But I'm sure you are thinking, "Shut up and tell us who won!"
To which I reply: MJ cheated and signed up her dog to take the quiz, so that she could take it a second time, because she didn't get 100% the first time around. So actually, the winner of the quiz, with a perfect score of 100 is: Tater.
Don't let that face fool you -- he has an amazing ability to listen and remember things. And although he has never seen me naked, I'm sure he is rather ambivalent about the opportunity. He has already seen what I look like, although probably not well, since he has an eye condition. Naked pics or PG-rated pics would probably be the same to him. So unfortunately for my readers, my fractionally-anonymous clothed and/or nekkid body will remain internet-proofed. Um, as far as I know, anyway.
I had a good weekend, aside from my car acting up. The dashboard light lit up again. It says "Service Engine Soon" but it might as well say "You Drive a Piece of Shit". Anyway, it's fixed now, and waiting on me to go shell out $160 to pay for the "stuck open thermostat" which may be mechanic-speak for "my kid's braces". Ugh. How the hell can replacing one dinky thermostat cost so damn much?? I can buy a thermometer from the drugstore for about $5.00 -- cant' they just use that? I guess I should stop complaining. Normally, my repairs are about $300.
Let's move on, shall we? Ok. I'm trying to focus on the upside: CN is picking me up after work today to take me to go get my car. Aw, what a good boyfriend!! +500 points.
Speaking of him, he is involved in the highlight of my weekend. Without this highlight, my weekend would have been nothing but lazy slothdom: watching movies, eating candy, baking, cooking, board games, shopping, napping.....*yawn!*
Where was I? Oh yes. On Saturday, I went with CN to go meet up with his parents for lunch. We met each other halfway in-between Columbia (where CN and I are) and Barnwell (where CN's parents are). I am referring to the metropolis that is Neeses, SC. (Nudie pic for anyone reading this who has actually been to Neeses, SC -- pending evidentiary proof, of course.)
So we meet up in Neeses for lunch. Which is difficult to do, considering Neeses (pop. 407) is so small that there AREN'T any restaurants. Not even fast food ones. At first look, this might seem to be a stumbling block in our plans, but we do have a solitary dining choice: the grocery store.
Oh yes, you read that correctly. The Piggly-Wiggly in Neeses, SC has a built-in restaurant. They have fantastic soft serve ice cream! They serve breakfast, even! They have nightly specials! And senior citizen discounts! And greasy, laminated menus! And tables that are 25% smaller than they should be! As if this isn't enough, here is the kicker:
If you go to the meat department, and pick out something you want to eat (whether it's a steak or 20 chicken wings or 1 lb of ground beef), you can take it into the restaurant, and they will cook it for you AND give you a choice of baked potato or french fries for only an additional charge of...........drumroll, please...........$1.88!!!
This is, according to CN's dad, THE. COOLEST.THING. EVER. Which cracks me up, because my dad would have thought it was the coolest thing ever.
So we go to the meat department, and everyone selects a steak except me.
"Um, I'm kind of in the mood for a burger. They have burgers, right?" I mumbled sheepishly.
All three of them stopped dead, holding packages of raw meat in their hands. They turned to look at me in unison, shocked and awed that I am not rummaging through the steaks.
"But you can pick anything you want! Anything! And they will cook it!" said CN's dad, astonished.
"Oh, come on now, getcha a steak," said CN's mom.
"It's only $1.88, what's wrong with you?" said CN, teasingly.
"I'm just.....in the mood for a burger....is that ok?" I asked.
"Oh, but getcha a steak, now, come on," said his mom.
"You don't want a steak?" continued his dad, still amazed that I would want to eat something other than a steak. The man was seriously shocked, y'all. It was almost as if I'd told him I honestly believed the world was flat.
"But I don't want a steak. Am I allowed to get something other than a steak?" I whispered to CN.
"Of course you are. We just always get steaks. You can get a burger, too. But just pick up a steak. It will make my dad feel better," CN explained.
"You can take it home with you, it's no big deal. Just get both," his mother explained, under her breath.
As soon as I grabbed a steak, CN's dad seemed to feel a lot better. So when we ordered, I got a cheeseburger in addition to my steak.
Now, you might be thinking this is a really strange interaction. Why are three people telling a 28 year old woman what she should eat for lunch? That's absurd. And you would be correct in your beliefs. But I was strangely comforted by their insistence. Why? Because my father used to do the SAME THING to all of us when we were growing up. From the time I was in diapers, I would have to listen to his comments every time I ate:
"You're eating that? When we have leftover turkey? Oh, you should go get some of that turkey."
"Don't you want to put some pepper on that? You really should put some pepper on it."
"You're eating that all wrong. You can't put maple syrup on that. No one puts maple syrup on that. What's wrong with you? You are ruining it by putting maple syrup on it."
So I am used to having people tell me what I should eat/not eat and how to eat it "properly". I am also used to ignoring them and eating what I damn well please. :)
My dad died almost three years ago. I miss his food criticism. It was nice to hear it from someone. I like CN's parents. They are a lot like mine.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Shirley Temples
"You know what? I'd actually like a Shirley Temple, please," I said to our favorite bartender (OFB).
Surprised at the change from my usual Diet Coke, he threw in some extra maraschino cherries for me. I thanked him.
It was nice to have something different to drink. I stirred it with my straw, watching the Sprite and the grenadine swirl together. I had fun digging the cherries out from the bottom of my tall glass. I sipped away, enjoying the old familiar taste. It made me remember one of my favorite childhood memories.
When I was very young, there was a bar/restaurant near our house. They made great pizza, and when my dad wanted a late night snack, he would go there and get carry-out pizza. Knowing my mom hated bars and was not a night owl, he would wake me up instead and take me with him to wait on the pizza. I would sit next to him at the bar, in my red footie pajamas. He would drink a beer. I would drink a Shirley Temple, footie feet swinging in the air. I loved the feeling of being a kid, hanging out with the grown-ups. It felt like a secret we were keeping from The Czarina -- me out way past my bedtime, drinking sugary drinks and eating pizza. I don't remember how the pizza tasted, or if the bartender would talk to us. But I do remember how special Dad managed to make me feel, even from a young age.
I smiled, recalling the vague memories, and missing my dad. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized I'd been sitting there, undisturbed, for quite some time. Unfortunately, Wild Wings was pretty dead. Not nearly as fun and crowded as the night before. This time, it was just me, two girlfriends and OFB.
Normally, the three of us can carry the whole bar, laughing, flirting and carrying on with anyone and everyone. But tonight, I was on my own. My girls were otherwise occupied with their respective boyfriends. Both of them sat on their cell phones, arguing with their men for most of the evening. And when they weren't on the phone, arguing, they were bitching about their men to me.
One couple has been dealing with jealousy/family issues. The other couple has been together since they were teenagers and have never really dated anyone else. Their relationship expired about a year ago, yet they have been hanging on for dear life, out of convenience, comfort or terror. Or maybe all three.
"Wow, I sure am glad I'm single right now. I definitely don't miss any of this crap!" I thought. In the middle of their venting, I looked at OFB and just rolled my eyes. He laughed.
Later, when the girls were both in the bathroom, I said to him, "They fight all the time. I wish they'd just break up already! It's so ridiculous!" He laughed again.
After another Shirley Temple, I called it a night and escaped to my stable, calm and wonderfully boring Single Girl life.
Last night, I went out with another group of friends. We went to dinner, despite the obvious absence of one of our core group members. I almost asked why she wasn't with us, when I remembered: she has a boyfriend.
Do you have a friend who disappears on you once they start dating someone? Yeah, that's her. She does this every time she's got a new man.
Her name was brought up, and we began to discuss this new guy she's dating. I met him briefly a few months ago, and I was not impressed-- I thought he was boring and drank too much. But that was really all I had to go on. It turns out that my instincts were right. One of us, through mutual friends, found out the scoop on this guy:
1. He is about 35, and is still smoking pot.
2. He got a DUI a few months ago. This has not curtailed his drinking at all, just his driving. So now our friend is driving his drunk ass around everywhere.
3. Because she's hanging out with an alcoholic, her already slightly elevated alcohol intake has doubled. So now she is driving around like this. If she gets a DUI, it would seriously affect her career. Like, permanently.
4. She is so hung over nowadays, she has stopped going to the gym. (How much drinking do you have to be doing to be hungover that often???) And I'm sure she's been hungover at work, if not calling in sick entirely.
5. This boyfriend of hers doesn't have a job. Oh, he kinda "helps out" with his friend's home business. Whatever that means. He has no benefits at all from this "job".
6. She has been saving up money to buy a house. He is going to move in with her when she does this. And apparently, continue mooching.
7. He has a child that he he doesn't support or see. We do not know if he has informed our friend that he has a child. We happen to know about it through a random coincidence. As far as we know, he is hiding this fact from her. (We wouldn't know, because we don't see her anymore.)
8. The mother of the child, described as a "psycho drug addict", told him she doesn't want to have anything to do with him until he "gets his act cleaned up". WOW.
9. If they do get married (as I'm sure my friend wants to do -- she has marriage on the brain, to a fault), I am worried that the Baby Mama will hear about it and suddenly want some child support money. And since he's a freeloader, it will have to come out of my friend's paycheck. Not to mention, I know she would also add him on to her health care benefits.
What a winner, huh? I think he's got every single red flag a guy can have, short of physical abuse.
The worst part about it is, my friend is the kind of girl who doesn't respond to concerned friends. If we approached her to express our concerns, she would become defensive, make excuses and justify everything. So we are helpless. All we can do is sit back and watch her screw up her life.
I just hope she's using protection, because he is not the kind of guy you want fathering your children. But knowing her, she would use an unplanned pregnancy as an excuse to get married.
Ugh.
Maybe being single isn't that bad. I can enjoy my Shirley Temples in peace.
Surprised at the change from my usual Diet Coke, he threw in some extra maraschino cherries for me. I thanked him.
It was nice to have something different to drink. I stirred it with my straw, watching the Sprite and the grenadine swirl together. I had fun digging the cherries out from the bottom of my tall glass. I sipped away, enjoying the old familiar taste. It made me remember one of my favorite childhood memories.
When I was very young, there was a bar/restaurant near our house. They made great pizza, and when my dad wanted a late night snack, he would go there and get carry-out pizza. Knowing my mom hated bars and was not a night owl, he would wake me up instead and take me with him to wait on the pizza. I would sit next to him at the bar, in my red footie pajamas. He would drink a beer. I would drink a Shirley Temple, footie feet swinging in the air. I loved the feeling of being a kid, hanging out with the grown-ups. It felt like a secret we were keeping from The Czarina -- me out way past my bedtime, drinking sugary drinks and eating pizza. I don't remember how the pizza tasted, or if the bartender would talk to us. But I do remember how special Dad managed to make me feel, even from a young age.
I smiled, recalling the vague memories, and missing my dad. Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized I'd been sitting there, undisturbed, for quite some time. Unfortunately, Wild Wings was pretty dead. Not nearly as fun and crowded as the night before. This time, it was just me, two girlfriends and OFB.
Normally, the three of us can carry the whole bar, laughing, flirting and carrying on with anyone and everyone. But tonight, I was on my own. My girls were otherwise occupied with their respective boyfriends. Both of them sat on their cell phones, arguing with their men for most of the evening. And when they weren't on the phone, arguing, they were bitching about their men to me.
One couple has been dealing with jealousy/family issues. The other couple has been together since they were teenagers and have never really dated anyone else. Their relationship expired about a year ago, yet they have been hanging on for dear life, out of convenience, comfort or terror. Or maybe all three.
"Wow, I sure am glad I'm single right now. I definitely don't miss any of this crap!" I thought. In the middle of their venting, I looked at OFB and just rolled my eyes. He laughed.
Later, when the girls were both in the bathroom, I said to him, "They fight all the time. I wish they'd just break up already! It's so ridiculous!" He laughed again.
After another Shirley Temple, I called it a night and escaped to my stable, calm and wonderfully boring Single Girl life.
Last night, I went out with another group of friends. We went to dinner, despite the obvious absence of one of our core group members. I almost asked why she wasn't with us, when I remembered: she has a boyfriend.
Do you have a friend who disappears on you once they start dating someone? Yeah, that's her. She does this every time she's got a new man.
Her name was brought up, and we began to discuss this new guy she's dating. I met him briefly a few months ago, and I was not impressed-- I thought he was boring and drank too much. But that was really all I had to go on. It turns out that my instincts were right. One of us, through mutual friends, found out the scoop on this guy:
1. He is about 35, and is still smoking pot.
2. He got a DUI a few months ago. This has not curtailed his drinking at all, just his driving. So now our friend is driving his drunk ass around everywhere.
3. Because she's hanging out with an alcoholic, her already slightly elevated alcohol intake has doubled. So now she is driving around like this. If she gets a DUI, it would seriously affect her career. Like, permanently.
4. She is so hung over nowadays, she has stopped going to the gym. (How much drinking do you have to be doing to be hungover that often???) And I'm sure she's been hungover at work, if not calling in sick entirely.
5. This boyfriend of hers doesn't have a job. Oh, he kinda "helps out" with his friend's home business. Whatever that means. He has no benefits at all from this "job".
6. She has been saving up money to buy a house. He is going to move in with her when she does this. And apparently, continue mooching.
7. He has a child that he he doesn't support or see. We do not know if he has informed our friend that he has a child. We happen to know about it through a random coincidence. As far as we know, he is hiding this fact from her. (We wouldn't know, because we don't see her anymore.)
8. The mother of the child, described as a "psycho drug addict", told him she doesn't want to have anything to do with him until he "gets his act cleaned up". WOW.
9. If they do get married (as I'm sure my friend wants to do -- she has marriage on the brain, to a fault), I am worried that the Baby Mama will hear about it and suddenly want some child support money. And since he's a freeloader, it will have to come out of my friend's paycheck. Not to mention, I know she would also add him on to her health care benefits.
What a winner, huh? I think he's got every single red flag a guy can have, short of physical abuse.
The worst part about it is, my friend is the kind of girl who doesn't respond to concerned friends. If we approached her to express our concerns, she would become defensive, make excuses and justify everything. So we are helpless. All we can do is sit back and watch her screw up her life.
I just hope she's using protection, because he is not the kind of guy you want fathering your children. But knowing her, she would use an unplanned pregnancy as an excuse to get married.
Ugh.
Maybe being single isn't that bad. I can enjoy my Shirley Temples in peace.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Ten
Ok, so Burg tagged me. WOOT! I am excited because I like to tell myself you are all dying to know me better. Right? Because the 200 things in the side-bar over there just aren't enough.
My task? Tell you 10 "interesting" things about me. I say "interesting" with the little quotation marks because at this point, I am starting to run out of things to share (surprised?) and therefore, the quality of this post is questionable.
1. What does VB smell like? Well...it used to be Calvin Klein's "Truth". It is still my all-time favorite smell. I never got sick of it. Then they discontinued it. Now I usually wear Dolce & Gabbana's "Light Blue". I also just got a perfume from M.A.C. I don't think it has a name, but it's in a black plastic/glass bottle. It's really sexy and I love it. For work, I wear either Victoria's Secret "Pink" or Ralph Lauren's "Blue". I tend to like green scents, ironically.
2. What does my closet look like? I love to wear bright colors. It looks like a rainbow in there. Sure, I have my fair share of black and pastels, but give me a coral or teal colored shirt any day. I personally think that people who wear boring colors are usually boring people. Then again, I guess I'm biased.
3. I think there was some confusion in a recent post about my new running hobby. I can NOT run 4 miles, people. Good grief. That's more than a 5k, I think. I am hard-pressed to make it to two. And I am running like, 15-minute miles, anyway. I mean, some people walk that fast. It's really nothing to be impressed by, trust me. Four miles is my GOAL. As in, "Maybe sometime before my 30th birthday I will be able to run 4 miles once."
4. I think I am in the vicinity of 50 pairs of shoes at this point. The majority of them are 3" heels. I really need to take some pics of my shoes and share....note to self. I really can't go out at night unless I have heels on. It feels weird to me. The Czarina thinks it's ridiculous how many shoes I have.
5. I pride myself on having had no car accidents in 7 years, knock on wood. Unless you count the time a lady side-swiped me. It wasn't my fault, and I was in the far left lane in rush hour traffic, so there was no escape route for me, unless I wanted to head straight into oncoming traffic. She just basically decided to change lanes without looking and plowed into me. Her insurance company paid for all my repairs. Now that I have typed this, watch me wreck my car tomorrow!
6. I have a secret, hidden talent: I can draw. Actually, come to think of it, most of the people in my family have hidden artistic skills. WLF, Czarina, my older sister and my older brother can all draw, too. My older sister is also an excellent actress and a decent singer, although she's only done it for fun. Fat Dog can play any instrument he picks up. He and I are pretty decent violinists. What's funny is, none of us ever took these abilities seriously. We are not in these fields professionally. Never have been. Maybe we weren't willing to be starving artists.
7. I was kicked/trampled by a horse when I was five or six years old. I grew up on a farm, and although my dad was not a farmer, we did rent the land out to other local farmers who needed more space. We mostly had cattle, but for a while, when I was in kindergarten, we had some horses. At the time, I was Queen My Little Pony, so this just totally kicked ass. (Oh, that was a bad pun!!!) Before school one day, my friend and neighbor, Neal came over. I think Czarina was going to drive us both to school or something. Anyway, for some reason, Neal and I had time to kill, so we went over to pet the horses. Well, the horses had escaped and were roaming around everywhere, and Neal and I tried to get the horses back behind the fences--because 5 year-olds can persuade horses-- and were kicked/trampled in the process. We were fine. Just some bumps and bruises. Pretty scary, though. I bet this is why I'm such a wuss now. (I did do some horseback riding a few years later, and I really enjoyed it. So I'm not equinophobic or anything.)
8. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people (ie, roommates and family members) don't clean out the lint filter in the dryer after they are done using it. Since I am paranoid, I have to empty it out in order to prevent burning the house down. This irritates me so much that sometimes, if I'm in a really foul mood, they will go to bed at night and find their lint laid out on their pillow. Other peoples' lint is totally disgusting. I know I sound crazy, but that stuff just grosses me out for some reason. I think it's because it looks like dust to me, and dust is made up of skin cells that have flaked off our bodies. *shudders*
9. I have a semi-gross confession to make. I need to know if anyone else in the world does this, because I really wonder. If I boil pasta, I don't always wash the pot or the colander into which I drain the pasta. It's just not dirty enough for me to go to the hassle of cleaning it. Besides, I will probably just re-use the pot the next day for more pasta (I eat a lot of pasta). Since it dries out in-between uses (I will leave it sitting out on the stovetop), I figure there can't be any bacteria in it, right? I swear on all things holy I do not do this with any other food/cooking situation, and I would never do this if I had guests over. Guests get clean pots and colanders, promise. Am I weird? Ok, dumb question. Is this particular habit weird?
10. I have the following scars:
left elbow (bike accident on gravel driveway as a kid -- yeah, ouch is right),
back left shoulder blade (removed a mole as a kid--see "Six Weird Things" in sidebar for full story),
left shin (I was 7, trying to get away from a scary barking dog and I ran into a corner. There's a big chunk missing. Ew is right. I also have another one on my left shin from a verrrry bad shaving experience when I was in middle school.),
bottom lip (I was a baby, holding a bottle in my mouth, and I fell down. The bottle dug into my lip--the scar is shaped like a U),
my left eyebrow (WLF was babysitting me, but, being the oh-so-attentive-and-smart father that he was, he left me on the bed when he went to answer the phone, and I fell off the bed, hitting a table on the way down--Czarina never let him babysit me again. But the good news is, it ended up being right along the line where I now pluck my eyebrows, so I have a built-in guide!),
stomach (chicken pox)
left jaw, kinda under my ear (from playing violin all those years)
Ok, I just realized that the right side of my body has virtually no scarring. Weird.
Man, this was hard to do. By this point, I have revealed so much about myself. I will be surprised if anyone actually reads this.....aren't you sick of reading about me? I'm sick of talking about me. My next post will have to have some malicious gossip. Or something more philosophical. Oh wait, don't place your bets on that one. Better hold out for the gossip.
Now I have to tag 10 people, in keeping with this meme's theme.
Becky, Jennster, Behind the Curve, Phantom Hater because he never posts anything, Meghan because she and I were separated at birth apparently, Petra, Sam because I know it will be hysterically funny, TGOV, Joie and Teahouse.
My task? Tell you 10 "interesting" things about me. I say "interesting" with the little quotation marks because at this point, I am starting to run out of things to share (surprised?) and therefore, the quality of this post is questionable.
1. What does VB smell like? Well...it used to be Calvin Klein's "Truth". It is still my all-time favorite smell. I never got sick of it. Then they discontinued it. Now I usually wear Dolce & Gabbana's "Light Blue". I also just got a perfume from M.A.C. I don't think it has a name, but it's in a black plastic/glass bottle. It's really sexy and I love it. For work, I wear either Victoria's Secret "Pink" or Ralph Lauren's "Blue". I tend to like green scents, ironically.
2. What does my closet look like? I love to wear bright colors. It looks like a rainbow in there. Sure, I have my fair share of black and pastels, but give me a coral or teal colored shirt any day. I personally think that people who wear boring colors are usually boring people. Then again, I guess I'm biased.
3. I think there was some confusion in a recent post about my new running hobby. I can NOT run 4 miles, people. Good grief. That's more than a 5k, I think. I am hard-pressed to make it to two. And I am running like, 15-minute miles, anyway. I mean, some people walk that fast. It's really nothing to be impressed by, trust me. Four miles is my GOAL. As in, "Maybe sometime before my 30th birthday I will be able to run 4 miles once."
4. I think I am in the vicinity of 50 pairs of shoes at this point. The majority of them are 3" heels. I really need to take some pics of my shoes and share....note to self. I really can't go out at night unless I have heels on. It feels weird to me. The Czarina thinks it's ridiculous how many shoes I have.
5. I pride myself on having had no car accidents in 7 years, knock on wood. Unless you count the time a lady side-swiped me. It wasn't my fault, and I was in the far left lane in rush hour traffic, so there was no escape route for me, unless I wanted to head straight into oncoming traffic. She just basically decided to change lanes without looking and plowed into me. Her insurance company paid for all my repairs. Now that I have typed this, watch me wreck my car tomorrow!
6. I have a secret, hidden talent: I can draw. Actually, come to think of it, most of the people in my family have hidden artistic skills. WLF, Czarina, my older sister and my older brother can all draw, too. My older sister is also an excellent actress and a decent singer, although she's only done it for fun. Fat Dog can play any instrument he picks up. He and I are pretty decent violinists. What's funny is, none of us ever took these abilities seriously. We are not in these fields professionally. Never have been. Maybe we weren't willing to be starving artists.
7. I was kicked/trampled by a horse when I was five or six years old. I grew up on a farm, and although my dad was not a farmer, we did rent the land out to other local farmers who needed more space. We mostly had cattle, but for a while, when I was in kindergarten, we had some horses. At the time, I was Queen My Little Pony, so this just totally kicked ass. (Oh, that was a bad pun!!!) Before school one day, my friend and neighbor, Neal came over. I think Czarina was going to drive us both to school or something. Anyway, for some reason, Neal and I had time to kill, so we went over to pet the horses. Well, the horses had escaped and were roaming around everywhere, and Neal and I tried to get the horses back behind the fences--because 5 year-olds can persuade horses-- and were kicked/trampled in the process. We were fine. Just some bumps and bruises. Pretty scary, though. I bet this is why I'm such a wuss now. (I did do some horseback riding a few years later, and I really enjoyed it. So I'm not equinophobic or anything.)
8. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people (ie, roommates and family members) don't clean out the lint filter in the dryer after they are done using it. Since I am paranoid, I have to empty it out in order to prevent burning the house down. This irritates me so much that sometimes, if I'm in a really foul mood, they will go to bed at night and find their lint laid out on their pillow. Other peoples' lint is totally disgusting. I know I sound crazy, but that stuff just grosses me out for some reason. I think it's because it looks like dust to me, and dust is made up of skin cells that have flaked off our bodies. *shudders*
9. I have a semi-gross confession to make. I need to know if anyone else in the world does this, because I really wonder. If I boil pasta, I don't always wash the pot or the colander into which I drain the pasta. It's just not dirty enough for me to go to the hassle of cleaning it. Besides, I will probably just re-use the pot the next day for more pasta (I eat a lot of pasta). Since it dries out in-between uses (I will leave it sitting out on the stovetop), I figure there can't be any bacteria in it, right? I swear on all things holy I do not do this with any other food/cooking situation, and I would never do this if I had guests over. Guests get clean pots and colanders, promise. Am I weird? Ok, dumb question. Is this particular habit weird?
10. I have the following scars:
left elbow (bike accident on gravel driveway as a kid -- yeah, ouch is right),
back left shoulder blade (removed a mole as a kid--see "Six Weird Things" in sidebar for full story),
left shin (I was 7, trying to get away from a scary barking dog and I ran into a corner. There's a big chunk missing. Ew is right. I also have another one on my left shin from a verrrry bad shaving experience when I was in middle school.),
bottom lip (I was a baby, holding a bottle in my mouth, and I fell down. The bottle dug into my lip--the scar is shaped like a U),
my left eyebrow (WLF was babysitting me, but, being the oh-so-attentive-and-smart father that he was, he left me on the bed when he went to answer the phone, and I fell off the bed, hitting a table on the way down--Czarina never let him babysit me again. But the good news is, it ended up being right along the line where I now pluck my eyebrows, so I have a built-in guide!),
stomach (chicken pox)
left jaw, kinda under my ear (from playing violin all those years)
Ok, I just realized that the right side of my body has virtually no scarring. Weird.
Man, this was hard to do. By this point, I have revealed so much about myself. I will be surprised if anyone actually reads this.....aren't you sick of reading about me? I'm sick of talking about me. My next post will have to have some malicious gossip. Or something more philosophical. Oh wait, don't place your bets on that one. Better hold out for the gossip.
Now I have to tag 10 people, in keeping with this meme's theme.
Becky, Jennster, Behind the Curve, Phantom Hater because he never posts anything, Meghan because she and I were separated at birth apparently, Petra, Sam because I know it will be hysterically funny, TGOV, Joie and Teahouse.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Fun Friday!!
Yay! It's Friday!!!
I have a special treat for my readers today. A pic of my family. Well, part of my family. Here goes.
This is Fungus on the left and Fat Dog on the right. Back when we were little, we lived in a super-old farmhouse, waaaaaay out in the Virginia countryside. My brothers played T-ball every summer. This is a picture of them after they both played games one day.
I had forgotten that when Fungus was little, we used to call him "Nino". This was because he couldn't say, "I know!" -- it would come out as "Nino!" and was so cute, the nickname kinda stuck. We used to say silly things to him all the time-- "Fungus, the sky is blue." or "Fungus, you're three years old." and Fungus would roll his eyes at us and say, "NiNO!" --And we would all laugh.
They look like dorks in this picture. Then again, I'm their big sister, so they will always look like dorks to me.
This video was funny, mostly because of how accurate it is. I always thought I was the only woman who "adjusted her boobs" and studied her physique while waiting for the water to heat up. And none of the stuff the guy does surprises me one bit. Like most male behavior, some of it is gross and some of it is kinda cute. I like the "woo-woo!" part.
Guys, when you are out and about this weekend, don't be these guys:
Or this guy:
Or this guy:
Thanks to eBaum's World for the videos!
Have a nice weekend, everyone!!
I have a special treat for my readers today. A pic of my family. Well, part of my family. Here goes.
This is Fungus on the left and Fat Dog on the right. Back when we were little, we lived in a super-old farmhouse, waaaaaay out in the Virginia countryside. My brothers played T-ball every summer. This is a picture of them after they both played games one day.
I had forgotten that when Fungus was little, we used to call him "Nino". This was because he couldn't say, "I know!" -- it would come out as "Nino!" and was so cute, the nickname kinda stuck. We used to say silly things to him all the time-- "Fungus, the sky is blue." or "Fungus, you're three years old." and Fungus would roll his eyes at us and say, "NiNO!" --And we would all laugh.
They look like dorks in this picture. Then again, I'm their big sister, so they will always look like dorks to me.
This video was funny, mostly because of how accurate it is. I always thought I was the only woman who "adjusted her boobs" and studied her physique while waiting for the water to heat up. And none of the stuff the guy does surprises me one bit. Like most male behavior, some of it is gross and some of it is kinda cute. I like the "woo-woo!" part.
Guys, when you are out and about this weekend, don't be these guys:
Or this guy:
Or this guy:
Thanks to eBaum's World for the videos!
Have a nice weekend, everyone!!
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Jamaica Me Crazy!
Sorry. I had to. It just begged for a bad pun.
So my birthday was yesterday. (If you want to give me a present, I can tell you that I am accepting vicodin and cigarette donations....in addition to small electronics) I had a nice day. Perfect weather, lots of phone calls and emails from friends and family...it was nice. After work, I got ready to go see Frank Warren of Postsecret fame.
MJ and KT came over beforehand with presents and a cake for me. Yay!!!
They gave me:
A Barbie doll (no, I am not kidding. I told them that I love Barbies and wished I could still play with them. I described this super cool fairy Barbie to them, and they got it for me. I am reliving my childhood with this doll. Don't know what I'm going to do with her yet....but I like looking at her. If someone had thought to combine the concept of fairies and Barbies when I was little, I would have been obsessed with this collection.)
A 3 month subscription to Netflix (woot! woot! Season One of Nip/Tuck here I come!!!). I am spending this afternoon making my list. So excited. Now taking recommendations, btw. Any of the Oscar winners good? I haven't seen any of them. Except The Devil Wears Prada, which I highly recommend.
A pack of condoms. I don't know if it was a joke or a hint, but I told them it's a good thing they don't expire until 2011, because at the rate I'm going....
Then KT brought out my fantastic birthday cake. Man, oh man, was it good. Imagine a super moist, two-layer chocolate sour cream cake, with homemade chocolate icing. Ok, now dump a can of cherry pie filling on top. Omigod, it was heaven. I had two slices.
But now I have to get rid of it. Or I will get really fat. So I think I will see if a certain Hot Neighbor wants it....
Speaking of which...before we left to go see Postsecret, we decided to go out on my front porch and have a cigarette. Not 5 seconds after I lit my Camel, out walks Hot Neighbor. With his kids.
F----------ck.
He waved. I waved. MJ and KT whispered, "Is that him?" and I said that it was. They tried to grab a peek at him as he loaded his kids into his car. They couldn't get a good look at him.
"Well, so much for that idea," I said.
Maybe I'm being too hard on myself, but seriously, could I look more irresponsible? In front of children? Jeez Louise. I'm sure he now just thinks of me as some young, dumb party girl. I no longer have the chic, mature woman image I was trying to go for. What father of three wants to date a smoker who goes out on weeknights? Ugh, I am so disappointed in myself. You know his kids were like, "Daddy, why is she smoking?" Gah. Can someone please shoot me?
Then again, if he can't deal with one bad personal habit, then I don't want him anyway, right? As K pointed out this morning, "Well, if he's divorced, then obviously he has some bad personal habits, too." No one's perfect. We all have our vices.
I feel like I owe him an apology. I really don't like smoking in front of children. But I'm going to hope that he either didn't notice or doesn't care. And hopefully, the yummy deliciousness that is my leftover birthday cake will help get me back in good graces.
Any male opinions on this dilemma are very welcome, btw.....especially if the comments run along the lines of...
"Dude, chicks who smoke? Totally hot." or
"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I'm a hot single father and I totally don't care if a girl smokes. Ok, let me confess--I am Hot Neighbor. I found out about your blog. I don't care if you smoke. Just please deliver that birthday cake wearing nothing but a smile."
Never fear, readers. I don't have to worry about dating jerks anymore. Now, I just cut to the chase and f--k everything up all on my own, before things even take off. Excellent...I am pre-emptively single. Ooh, good band name.
Moving on from this humiliating scenario...
Postsecret was really cool. He talked about how it got started, why he does it, what he has learned from it, stuff like that. Actually, a lot of what he said can be found in the introductions to his books. The best part was that he showed some secrets that cannot be put on the website or in the books due to nudity or copyright infringement. They were great. So if he comes to your town, I recommend going just to see those.
Ok, here are some cool things I learned about him and the Postsecret Project:
1. He hasn't had any stalkers, but he does get the occassional fan who wants to see the Postsecret House or meet the Postsecret Dog. Usually, they just want an autograph.
2. The #1 most submitted secret is "I pee in the shower."-- which, ew. I have never done that. Gross.
3. He keeps every secret that is mailed to him. They are all stored in big plastic bins (the big tubs you would store Christmas decorations in) in his garage. He's on year #3 of the project, and so far, he's got about 24 bins.
4. Every so often, he will get copies of his first book mailed to him in the mail. This is because the first book's cover was made to look like a USPS parcel. It's got his address on it and everything.
5. He said that if you can put postage on it or mail it, he's probably gotten it mailed to him. He said he's gotten potato chip bags, bottles, jewelry, sonogram photos, hair, house keys, Starbucks cups, CDs, you name it. He said some people put their cards in an envelope. Some people tape it all up and/or put $10 worth of postage on it, just to make sure it gets there.
6. He receives about 1,000 postcards per week. (Wow.) His mail carrier bundles them up for him every day with rubberbands.
7. He asked her once if she read them. She wouldn't admit to it, but she did say that her favorite one said, "I used to work at the post office. We would read everyone's post cards. Is that what you guys are doing right now?"
8. People think he's crazy for putting his home address on his books and website, but he said that in order to feel comfortable telling a complete stranger your secret, it helps if the stranger makes the first step. I thought that was a good point.
He really seems like a nice guy. He owns his own business, which is how he can keep Postsecret an ad-free site. It's in the top 10 most visited blogs, btw. It's the most popular ad-free blog. He actively supports 1-800-SUICIDE and gives donations to them. I think that is really cool. He said for every person that is murdered in America, two people commit suicide. That's a crazy statistic, and based on what I've looked up today, it is a pretty accurate statistic. He said that suicide is America's secret. It's so rarely talked about or reported.
Perhaps the best thing he said was along the lines of, "Every person probably has a secret which would break your heart. And I think that if we all realized that, the world would be a more compassionate place."
I think this is so true. I know I have a couple that would probably break your heart if you knew them. Maybe you'll see them one day on Postsecret! I have never sent one in, but now I want to send in about 4 or 5.
If you want to read more about Postsecret, there is a Wikipedia entry.
Ok, on to something less depressing. One of my oldest friends, J, who lives in Indianapolis, is getting married in Jamaica next September. Over the years, we have grown apart somewhat, but we will always be friends. I like her fiancee and I think they are really good together. I'm not so crazy about their friends, however. I think most of them are pretty snobby.
Anyway, I just got my invitation to go to the wedding, and I can't decide if I want to go. So I am keeping track of the pros:
1. Jamaica, baby!! I never go anywhere, and this is a great excuse. I love to travel, and I've never been to the Carribbean. I have been dying to go somewhere international and now I have an excuse.
2. She is one of my oldest friends and I know she would love it if I went. The wedding will be beautiful and I would probably cry lots of happy tears.
3. I found a round-trip ticket that is only $300 or so dollars. This is an incredible deal. Plus, I would rack up major frequent flier miles.
4. Um, it's Jamaica. I am counting this one twice.
5. The resort looks fantastic!
6. If I play my cards right, I might be able to get Czarina to chip in...she loves J and thinks it is so cool that we have been friends for 15 years.
7. My friend, Mack Daddy, offered to go with me. He used to live in the Carribbean, so he knows his way around (this soothes the panicky wuss inside me), he can help pay for the uber-expensive room ($500 per night!!) and he wouldn't have to go to the actual wedding because he'd be too busy snorkeling and sailing on boats. He could entertain himself during the wedding if J doesn't allow me to bring a guest. (Which I would totally understand, btw.)
...and the cons....
1. Her friends are kinda snobby. If Mack Daddy doesn't go with me, I will be ignored by the snobs the whole time. Which would impact my fun tremendously, as I would probably feel left out most of the time. This, combined with how stressed out I get when I travel alone, might make for a highly stressful trip.
2. The rooms are $500 per night. OUCH. Food and booze (which I obviously would not be drinking) are included. As are any touristy-tours I want to go on. But still. I cannot afford this by myself. No way. Especially when you include the wedding gift, spending money, etc.
3. If I go by myself, I don't know how much fun I would have. Aren't trips like this better with really good friends? Maybe I should hold out for a better opportunity.
4. It's during hurricane season.
5. Maybe I should be more practical with my money (ie, pay off some of my absurd credit card bills). I have been thinking about getting a new car....
6. I have heard that Jamaica is very crime-ridden and dangerous.
So....what do you think? Should I go?
More importantly, do you think I've totally ruined my chances with Hot Neighbor?
So my birthday was yesterday. (If you want to give me a present, I can tell you that I am accepting vicodin and cigarette donations....in addition to small electronics) I had a nice day. Perfect weather, lots of phone calls and emails from friends and family...it was nice. After work, I got ready to go see Frank Warren of Postsecret fame.
MJ and KT came over beforehand with presents and a cake for me. Yay!!!
They gave me:
A Barbie doll (no, I am not kidding. I told them that I love Barbies and wished I could still play with them. I described this super cool fairy Barbie to them, and they got it for me. I am reliving my childhood with this doll. Don't know what I'm going to do with her yet....but I like looking at her. If someone had thought to combine the concept of fairies and Barbies when I was little, I would have been obsessed with this collection.)
A 3 month subscription to Netflix (woot! woot! Season One of Nip/Tuck here I come!!!). I am spending this afternoon making my list. So excited. Now taking recommendations, btw. Any of the Oscar winners good? I haven't seen any of them. Except The Devil Wears Prada, which I highly recommend.
A pack of condoms. I don't know if it was a joke or a hint, but I told them it's a good thing they don't expire until 2011, because at the rate I'm going....
Then KT brought out my fantastic birthday cake. Man, oh man, was it good. Imagine a super moist, two-layer chocolate sour cream cake, with homemade chocolate icing. Ok, now dump a can of cherry pie filling on top. Omigod, it was heaven. I had two slices.
But now I have to get rid of it. Or I will get really fat. So I think I will see if a certain Hot Neighbor wants it....
Speaking of which...before we left to go see Postsecret, we decided to go out on my front porch and have a cigarette. Not 5 seconds after I lit my Camel, out walks Hot Neighbor. With his kids.
F----------ck.
He waved. I waved. MJ and KT whispered, "Is that him?" and I said that it was. They tried to grab a peek at him as he loaded his kids into his car. They couldn't get a good look at him.
"Well, so much for that idea," I said.
Maybe I'm being too hard on myself, but seriously, could I look more irresponsible? In front of children? Jeez Louise. I'm sure he now just thinks of me as some young, dumb party girl. I no longer have the chic, mature woman image I was trying to go for. What father of three wants to date a smoker who goes out on weeknights? Ugh, I am so disappointed in myself. You know his kids were like, "Daddy, why is she smoking?" Gah. Can someone please shoot me?
Then again, if he can't deal with one bad personal habit, then I don't want him anyway, right? As K pointed out this morning, "Well, if he's divorced, then obviously he has some bad personal habits, too." No one's perfect. We all have our vices.
I feel like I owe him an apology. I really don't like smoking in front of children. But I'm going to hope that he either didn't notice or doesn't care. And hopefully, the yummy deliciousness that is my leftover birthday cake will help get me back in good graces.
Any male opinions on this dilemma are very welcome, btw.....especially if the comments run along the lines of...
"Dude, chicks who smoke? Totally hot." or
"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I'm a hot single father and I totally don't care if a girl smokes. Ok, let me confess--I am Hot Neighbor. I found out about your blog. I don't care if you smoke. Just please deliver that birthday cake wearing nothing but a smile."
Never fear, readers. I don't have to worry about dating jerks anymore. Now, I just cut to the chase and f--k everything up all on my own, before things even take off. Excellent...I am pre-emptively single. Ooh, good band name.
Moving on from this humiliating scenario...
Postsecret was really cool. He talked about how it got started, why he does it, what he has learned from it, stuff like that. Actually, a lot of what he said can be found in the introductions to his books. The best part was that he showed some secrets that cannot be put on the website or in the books due to nudity or copyright infringement. They were great. So if he comes to your town, I recommend going just to see those.
Ok, here are some cool things I learned about him and the Postsecret Project:
1. He hasn't had any stalkers, but he does get the occassional fan who wants to see the Postsecret House or meet the Postsecret Dog. Usually, they just want an autograph.
2. The #1 most submitted secret is "I pee in the shower."-- which, ew. I have never done that. Gross.
3. He keeps every secret that is mailed to him. They are all stored in big plastic bins (the big tubs you would store Christmas decorations in) in his garage. He's on year #3 of the project, and so far, he's got about 24 bins.
4. Every so often, he will get copies of his first book mailed to him in the mail. This is because the first book's cover was made to look like a USPS parcel. It's got his address on it and everything.
5. He said that if you can put postage on it or mail it, he's probably gotten it mailed to him. He said he's gotten potato chip bags, bottles, jewelry, sonogram photos, hair, house keys, Starbucks cups, CDs, you name it. He said some people put their cards in an envelope. Some people tape it all up and/or put $10 worth of postage on it, just to make sure it gets there.
6. He receives about 1,000 postcards per week. (Wow.) His mail carrier bundles them up for him every day with rubberbands.
7. He asked her once if she read them. She wouldn't admit to it, but she did say that her favorite one said, "I used to work at the post office. We would read everyone's post cards. Is that what you guys are doing right now?"
8. People think he's crazy for putting his home address on his books and website, but he said that in order to feel comfortable telling a complete stranger your secret, it helps if the stranger makes the first step. I thought that was a good point.
He really seems like a nice guy. He owns his own business, which is how he can keep Postsecret an ad-free site. It's in the top 10 most visited blogs, btw. It's the most popular ad-free blog. He actively supports 1-800-SUICIDE and gives donations to them. I think that is really cool. He said for every person that is murdered in America, two people commit suicide. That's a crazy statistic, and based on what I've looked up today, it is a pretty accurate statistic. He said that suicide is America's secret. It's so rarely talked about or reported.
Perhaps the best thing he said was along the lines of, "Every person probably has a secret which would break your heart. And I think that if we all realized that, the world would be a more compassionate place."
I think this is so true. I know I have a couple that would probably break your heart if you knew them. Maybe you'll see them one day on Postsecret! I have never sent one in, but now I want to send in about 4 or 5.
If you want to read more about Postsecret, there is a Wikipedia entry.
Ok, on to something less depressing. One of my oldest friends, J, who lives in Indianapolis, is getting married in Jamaica next September. Over the years, we have grown apart somewhat, but we will always be friends. I like her fiancee and I think they are really good together. I'm not so crazy about their friends, however. I think most of them are pretty snobby.
Anyway, I just got my invitation to go to the wedding, and I can't decide if I want to go. So I am keeping track of the pros:
1. Jamaica, baby!! I never go anywhere, and this is a great excuse. I love to travel, and I've never been to the Carribbean. I have been dying to go somewhere international and now I have an excuse.
2. She is one of my oldest friends and I know she would love it if I went. The wedding will be beautiful and I would probably cry lots of happy tears.
3. I found a round-trip ticket that is only $300 or so dollars. This is an incredible deal. Plus, I would rack up major frequent flier miles.
4. Um, it's Jamaica. I am counting this one twice.
5. The resort looks fantastic!
6. If I play my cards right, I might be able to get Czarina to chip in...she loves J and thinks it is so cool that we have been friends for 15 years.
7. My friend, Mack Daddy, offered to go with me. He used to live in the Carribbean, so he knows his way around (this soothes the panicky wuss inside me), he can help pay for the uber-expensive room ($500 per night!!) and he wouldn't have to go to the actual wedding because he'd be too busy snorkeling and sailing on boats. He could entertain himself during the wedding if J doesn't allow me to bring a guest. (Which I would totally understand, btw.)
...and the cons....
1. Her friends are kinda snobby. If Mack Daddy doesn't go with me, I will be ignored by the snobs the whole time. Which would impact my fun tremendously, as I would probably feel left out most of the time. This, combined with how stressed out I get when I travel alone, might make for a highly stressful trip.
2. The rooms are $500 per night. OUCH. Food and booze (which I obviously would not be drinking) are included. As are any touristy-tours I want to go on. But still. I cannot afford this by myself. No way. Especially when you include the wedding gift, spending money, etc.
3. If I go by myself, I don't know how much fun I would have. Aren't trips like this better with really good friends? Maybe I should hold out for a better opportunity.
4. It's during hurricane season.
5. Maybe I should be more practical with my money (ie, pay off some of my absurd credit card bills). I have been thinking about getting a new car....
6. I have heard that Jamaica is very crime-ridden and dangerous.
So....what do you think? Should I go?
More importantly, do you think I've totally ruined my chances with Hot Neighbor?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Thursday 13 (Ok, 14)
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1. Raspberries. I grew up on a raspberry farm. They are so friggin delicious. My brothers and I would pick them on warm summer nights. I remember saying, "One for me, one for the basket...one for me..." To this day, it is my favorite flavor! 2. Fairies (thanks, Jennster, for reminding me about that!) -- I used to be obsessed with them as a kid. I made my mom read bedtime stories about them. I would go outside and build fairy houses. I thought fairies were both real and homeless. I'd use sticks, bark, moss, etc to make the houses. Then I would nestle them in the roots of trees. Sometimes I would even go back to look for evidence that they were inhabited. I was a weird kid. 3. Crayola Crayons. Another obsession. No other brand would do, and my parents knew this. I would create ordering systems for my Crayola Box of 64. It really irked me that the Crayola people never had an assigned spot for any of the colors. I was appalled that the box of 100 didn't come out until I was too old for crayons. I always stayed in the lines. I would take a lot of time and care selecting the exact shade to use for whatever I was drawing/coloring. If I were coloring a woman, she would have makeup on because I added it. I never broke or ate any of my crayons. Eventually, I would treat the crayons like dolls, complete with story lines--for example, Mr. Red and Mrs. Yellow got married. Their children were Orange and Yellow-Orange. Mrs. White cheated on Mr. Black with Mr. Blue, and their love child was Periwinkle. More evidence of weirdness. Or too much tv. 4. Old houses. I grew up in an old farmhouse, built in 1840. I think that is why I love hardwood floors, plaster walls and big windows to this day. 5. My Little Ponies. Thank you, Becky, for reminding me of these. There is not a word in the English language for how much I adored these hunks of molded plastic. I had approximately 20 of them. None of my friends understood why I liked them better than my Barbies. I would brush their hair and put Barbie hats and my grandmother's costume jewelry on them as outfits. Then the Barbies would be the horse farm owners. The horses escaped every time. Drama ensued. Stupid Barbies! If it hadn't been for Ken, they would've lost all their ponies every time. 6. Books. Books in general. The ones I read as a child, and also my father's books. I would "hang out" with him while he wrote and read in his office. I'd sit next to his desk, coloring. He would show me his books and talk to me about Thomas Jefferson and stuff like that. I spent many long afternoons in WLF's office, surrounded by his books. 7. Pink kleenex -- My Grandma, Ga-Ga, always had these. She had them everywhere--in her purse, stuffed up her sleeves, in her pockets. She died when I was ten, but I still think of her anytime I see pink kleenex. 8. The candy at the grocery store check-out counter--Every time we would go to the store, we would beg and beg and beg for a candy bar as if our life depended on it. I laugh when I see other kids begging their parents. Of course, we would only get a treat if we behaved during the shopping trip. I still get a rush when I buy something in the check-out line. Ah, the power of having one's own spending money! 9. Big trees -- There were these huge oak trees all around our house. To this day, I have never seen trees this big. I would guess they are at least 100 years old, if they are still standing. They were so beautiful. Behind them was a deep forest. We would play in the woods all day long in the summer, catching crawdads, picking flowers, playing in hidden creeks....I had a love affair with nature as a kid. I was crazy about the farm animals and the wildlife, too. Hmmm...I wonder what happened... 10. The smell of Ivory Snow, the laundry detergent for babies. As the oldest of 5, it seems there were always babies in our house. This is what their little blankets and baby clothes smelled like. I hope they still make this stuff, because it smells awesome. I want my babies to smell like that, too. 11. Motown music-- My parents would dance in the kitchen to The Four Seasons, The Temptations, The Supremes, and other Motown legends. It always puts a smile on my face to hear these songs. That and the Beach Boys. 12. Monopoly -- Somehow, I have never tired of playing this game. If it were possible, my brothers and I would be Certified Monopoly Experts. I think we have played around 3.6 billion games. And had 3.6 billion arguments about who got to be the car. 13. Legos. We had tons of them and we would always leave them spread out over the floor, which meant that Czarina would step on them with her bare feet, and then she would yell at us. Understandably! Have you ever stepped on one of those buggers? 14. Popsicles--A summer staple in our house, whether homemade or store bought. We probably ate about 6 per day. The Czarina hated the ones that are liquid when you buy them. You know, the ones you freeze yourself. They are in plastic tubes that you'd have to cut open. Anyway, we would leave the plastic wrappers all over the place when we were done. Each time, she would swear she wouldn't buy that kind again. She always did. At school, we had Nutty Buddies and those ice cream bars shaped like Mickey Mouse. Gah, I lived for those. But I think they are gone forever. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) |
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Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Embarrassing Story #2
(See my last post for the first story. You don't have to read these in order.)
This story would be best entitled: The Only Time I Ever Hated My Father.
Setting: 1993, I'm in Middle School, we had just moved to Indiana, so I was "The New Girl". This town was like Beverly Hills. Mercedes and Rolls Royces abound. I kid you not. Ritzy titzy city.
It was a Saturday, and all the kids in my grade were at school for a standardized test. When we are done around noon, all 400 (or so) of us are standing outside near the parking lot, waiting for our parents to pick us up.
Keep in mind that this is 8th grade, probably the most insecure of ages for kids across the nation. We are all SO incredibly self-conscious at this time, are we not? I mean, all I wanted to do was to fit in. Or better yet, be accepted by the "Cool" crowd. But, since I was new, I hadn't even determined exactly who was cool. I was still trying to get used to the freezing weather and fashion differences. (There were no Abercrombie & Fitches or Bebes in my teeny tiny rural Virginia hometown. Actually, there still aren't.)
So I am standing alone, which is ok. I was used to being the new girl by this point in my life. To be honest, my brain was fried from filling in bubbles with a #2 pencil for 4 hours straight. I just wanted to go home.
But where is Mom??? She's taking forever! I mean, most of the kids are already gone, which makes me look like a total loser! So I wait and wait and wait.
Out of nowhere, the hottest guy in our class, Joel, comes up to me and starts talking to me. I think I did one of those double takes, where you are sure the guy is talkingto someone standing behind you, so you turn around, only to realize no one is there. Once I realized he was actually talking to me, I almost fell over. I was so flabbergasted, I couldn't even listen to anything he was saying. I think he said something about going to McDonald's. Just as I was starting to shake myself out of it and say something, my ride showed up.
It was my Dad, not my Mom, picking me up.
Oh.
No.
He was driving his truck. His big, beat up, dirty, old Ford truck. Which smells like a combination of wet dog and cigars. (Keep in mind, this is back in the day before cigars were cool.) This vehicle is in stark contrast against all the pristine Lexuses already in the parking lot.
He comes in the exit, and was the only parent to do so. Everyone was looking, wondering who this guy is and why he can't read signs. "Oh. That's my ride," I mumbled.
"Is that your dad?" Hot Joel asked.
"Yeah," I replied. (I could be wrong, but this may have been the last conversation I ever had with Hot Joel.)
Did I mention that Dad's windows are down? And it's about 40 degrees outside? It is important that his windows are down so that he can not only smoke his stogie, but also so that our big, stinky dog can stick her slobbery head out the window and so that Dad can blare his bluegrass music at an adequate volume.
Other parents have lap dogs and Top 40 stations in their cars. With the windows up, since they are both non-smokers and cold.
It looks like Pa Clampett is here to pick me up.
Now, I love my big stinky, slobbery dog. I even like bluegrass music. But not when I'm 13. At that age, I don't admit to liking any of this. I cannot believe this is happening. And in front of about 150 of my school mates. One of whom is standing right next to me, looking quite yummy. The same one who will never speak to me again.
Instead of taking the time to look for me and pull up discreetly by the curb, Pa parks his truck in the smack dab middle of this huge parking lot. He gets out of the truck. He hasn't showered or shaved yet. He is wearing the same clothes he wore the two previous days. And probably the same underwear. He is holding a big, fat stogie in one hand and a beer in the other. Then, he starts yelling.
"VB! VB?!"
"Yeah..." I reply, forced to yell my response.
"Hey! Get in! You're gonna have to sit in the middle, though, so the dog can stick her head out!"
I walked out into the dead center of the parking lot, in front of everyone. If I'm not mistaken, there were some stares and snickering going on. I think you could have heard a pin drop amongst the Gap and Limited-clad audience. I didn't wave or look at anyone. I just wanted to disappear. The fastest way to do that was to get in the truck so he would get in and shut up.
"Hurry up! It's time for lunch!" he yelled, still standing in the middle of the parking lot.
I climbed into the center of the bench seat, with stinky Mingo on one side and Jed Clampett on the other. He asked if I wanted to listen to his music or mine. I told him I didn't care, because my social life was over anyway. He shrugged, took a sip of his beer and turned his bluegrass back up. Mingo kept stepping on my lap and wagging her tail in my face. Mingo weighed about 50 pounds. And there was no place for her to go. I reeked of cigars and dog by the time I got home.
Once I got there, I told Czarina everything. She chewed him a new one and he was never allowed to pick any of us up again.
For those 30 or so minutes, I hated my father. But that is the only time. Ever. And who cares what stupid Hot Joel thought anyway? He got busted for pot or underage drinking before graduation. I can't remember which. I bet he was embarrassed.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
100 Things About VB
Only because everyone else has these lists. These are in addition to the Six Weird Things About Me.
1. I am left-handed.
2. I can drive stick.
3. I cannot do math. At all. Not even add or subtract. My checkbook is always off by some random amount, like right now I'm off by $4.11.
4. States I've lived in include: VA, NC, SC, IN
5. I've never been west of Kansas.
6. I've been in 2 tornadoes. NOT fun.
7. I can't sing, but I love to try when I'm alone.
8. My ethnic background is 2/3 Irish. The rest is Scottish, English and German.
9. I am a bottle blonde. I secretly want platinum blonde hair like Marilyn Monroe.
10. This ethnic makeup means my skin is Honkey White in color. But I tan well.
11. I've been to Italy, Key West and Chicago. I love to travel.
12. I was an ancient history major. Until the age of 21 I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I realized this meant I'd have to get dirty. A lot. Not my bag.
13. Now I don't know what I want to be. It changes on a daily basis.
14. My siblings and I have semi-unusual names.
15. I hate tea. Hot, cold, sweet, whatever. It's all nasty.
16. I also hate olives, artichokes, sushi and Indian food.
17. Lots of things make me barf. You can say I'm a "puker". I barf a lot.
18. I suffer from migraines and live in fear of them. Thank the Lord for Excedrin or I would kill myself.
19. I have a tendency to over-dress for occassions. I like looking nice and getting dressed up. It's the little girl in me.
20. I drink a cup of coffee every morning. I love it. I must have it.
21. My first impressions of people are always right. Always. I've never been wrong.
22. I am kind of OCD-ADD. This means I get obsessed with a new project, then I get bored and find a new project. I never finish anything. I just move on to the next obsession.
23. I hate cold weather. And by cold I mean anthing below 75 degrees F.
24. I don't mind cleaning bathrooms or kitchens at all. This is because dirty sinks really bug me.
25. But I hate dusting.
26. I'm somewhat of a germophobe. This doesn't stop me from letting my dog lick my face.
27. I am retarded when it comes to home decorating. Just clueless.
28. I am probably the most opinionated person you will ever meet. I have no problem telling anyone how I feel. I don't always sugar-coat it either.
29. I have a grand total of 4 cousins. They are all boys.
30. My family is spread out all over God's Creation. I am jealous of people who can see their whole, extended family all the time. This is foreign to me.
31. Most of the people in my family are good cooks. The biscuit recipe we use is from my great-great grandmother. She was a pioneer out west. I think this is so cool.
32. I am an "indoor girl". This means that camping is not my idea of a good time.
33. But sitting on a porch or walking in a park is nice.
34. You'll never catch me doing anything that would put me at risk for bodily injury. I am a big wuss. I wouldn't even do a wheelie on my bike when I was a kid. I still wouldn't.
35. But I really don't mind public speaking.
36. Or going on blind dates.
37. I'm a social butterfly. Meeting new people is one of my favorite things to do. I am very very friendly.
38. I have a big mouth. No subject is off limits with me.
39. I have the largest makeup collection of anyone I know. I own at least 150 lipsticks alone. I shudder to think how much money I spend on it. But I can't stop.
40. The rest of my spending money goes towards candy, cookies and ice cream. My sweet tooth scares me sometimes.
41. I once ate two pounds of Jelly Belly jellybeans in one day. I only stopped because I ran out of jellybeans.
42. So I went back to the store to get more from the big scoop-em-yourself bins. They were out because I had just bought the last of them. So I busted open the display and I bought those.
43. I want to have a ton of kids one day. Like...five or six. I should probably get on that considering I'm 27 and single.
44. There are only three desserts I won't eat: key lime pie, anything with liquer in it and tiramisu. Yuck!
45. I'm slowly turning into my mother. This isn't too bad. She's pretty cool. Luckily I didn't inherit her short temper. Or her mediocre sense of humor. But she's much better at math. Dang.
46. I don't like the taste of wine. I don't even drink it at church. This has nothing to do with the fact that I don't drink alcohol at all.
47. I love dogs. I just got one and now I want to have 7 or 8. If I don't get married, I'll be a dog lady. And I'll adopt a bunch of kids.
48. But I dislike cats. I think I'm also mildly allergic to them. Plus, I find them very unfriendly and not at all fun to play with. They scratch me.
49. When I don't do anything productive, I get depressed. Busy VB is Happy VB.
50. I'm very old-fashioned in some ways. Door opening is big with me.
51. I am really really good a foreign languages. I can talk to you in French, Latin, Spanish and German.
52. I love anything Italian. Or Southern.
53. I feel I have nothing in common with hippies. Or most Yankees. Or gay people. I'm working on this. Please don't hate me. You can't change what you don't acknowledge. I'm not very p.c. I guess.
54. James Bond and the volleyball scene from Top Gun are the hottest things I've ever seen. They leave me speechless and drooling. Well, uniforms and tuxes are just hot! What can I say?
55. I have a thing for blondes with lots of muscles. Skinny men are really unattractive to me. I'm more of a football-player-build kinda girl.
56. I am totally against the whole Metrosexual movement. Manly men rock!
57. My hair is stick straight. Always. It laughs at me when I try to curl it.
58. I am on a constant quest to have clearer skin and longer nails.
59. I was in a sorority in college.
60. But I was never a cheerleader.
61. I did track for one year in high school.
62. Other than that, I am totally unathletic. I only work out to keep my figure.
63. There isn't a tomboy bone in my body. I am 100% girly girl.
64. But I do enjoy watching the occassional college football or basketball game.
65. I love my boobs but I hate my hips.
66. People think I am a half-Asian blonde girl, but I'm not. I have almond-shaped eyes because they are from the Scottish side of my family.
67. I have lots of random small-world moments. The stories give people chills.
68. I love horror movies, ghost stories and true crime stories.
69. I believe in ghosts. But I've never seen one. I have had weird stuff happen to me, though. I half-way believe in psychics.
70. When I was little, I was obsessed with fairies and My Little Ponies.
71. I think Mike Myers is hilarious. I also find animals very funny.
72. I also like British humor like Monty Python. I realize not everyone likes this.
73. I grew up on a farm. We grew raspberries and tobacco and had horses and cows.
74. I was raised Catholic. Like, old school Catholic. I had to wear a mantilla to church. Mass was in Latin. Because of this, I'm always having a guilt trip about something. It comes with the territory.
75. Then my family switched to Episcopalian a few years ago. We got fed up with the Catholic Church. Sometimes I miss being Catholic.
76. I am a huge history buff. Anything historical is cool.
77. I love to read when I'm in the mood. Usually I am reading to learn something. Yes, I am a big dork. I'm just not that into fiction, ok?
78. Addiction comes easily to me. This is not good.
79. I can play the violin. I played for many years.
80. I always wanted art lessons instead. I like drawing and love art.
81. I really identify with Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, the women on Sex and the City and Miss Piggy. I just realized that makes me sound like a bimbo. I'm not. Okay, maybe I am a little.
82. I really want a red convertible one day. And a house on the beach.
83. But if I won the lottery, I would buy a yacht and sail around the world, partying with all my friends. Kinda like the Big Pimpin' video.
84. I like all kinds of music except jazz. Especially rap. (It's okay to hate me for this.)
85. I am a nerd because I like school. Learning is really fun for me. I want to be in school again. I would take a class just for fun.
86. I am a know-it-all who needs to be called out.
87. I have a tendency to be close-minded and overly-conservative. But I'm working on it.
88. I always know what I want. Always.Wimpy people who are afraid to make decisions and can't make up their minds irritate the piss out of me.
89. Reading over my shoulder will get you an elbow to the face.
90. I once dated a guy with three testicles.
91. Any version of pink or green are my favorite colors.
92. I hate brown. And that mustard color.
93. I am a good person to borrow money from because I will forget about it five minutes later. But if I borrow money from you, I will also forget to repay you.
94. My baby brother died in a sudden drowning accident two years ago to the day. He was 18. Eight months later I lost my dad. Grief sucks. If another one of my family members dies, I'll kill them. Har har.
95. I never have cash on me. Ever.
96. I use my American Express card for everything. I am keeping them in business.
97. I don't usually like mushy and romantic stuff. After about 5 minutes of cheese, I want to barf. Flowers are an exception.
98. My toes are freakishly long. I think I could peel a banana with them, but I haven't tried.
99. I'm a horrible person to play a board game with: I am both a sore loser and a sore winner. I play for blood!!
100. I have a pair of lucky purple shoes. Every time I wear them, something cool happens.
1. I am left-handed.
2. I can drive stick.
3. I cannot do math. At all. Not even add or subtract. My checkbook is always off by some random amount, like right now I'm off by $4.11.
4. States I've lived in include: VA, NC, SC, IN
5. I've never been west of Kansas.
6. I've been in 2 tornadoes. NOT fun.
7. I can't sing, but I love to try when I'm alone.
8. My ethnic background is 2/3 Irish. The rest is Scottish, English and German.
9. I am a bottle blonde. I secretly want platinum blonde hair like Marilyn Monroe.
10. This ethnic makeup means my skin is Honkey White in color. But I tan well.
11. I've been to Italy, Key West and Chicago. I love to travel.
12. I was an ancient history major. Until the age of 21 I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I realized this meant I'd have to get dirty. A lot. Not my bag.
13. Now I don't know what I want to be. It changes on a daily basis.
14. My siblings and I have semi-unusual names.
15. I hate tea. Hot, cold, sweet, whatever. It's all nasty.
16. I also hate olives, artichokes, sushi and Indian food.
17. Lots of things make me barf. You can say I'm a "puker". I barf a lot.
18. I suffer from migraines and live in fear of them. Thank the Lord for Excedrin or I would kill myself.
19. I have a tendency to over-dress for occassions. I like looking nice and getting dressed up. It's the little girl in me.
20. I drink a cup of coffee every morning. I love it. I must have it.
21. My first impressions of people are always right. Always. I've never been wrong.
22. I am kind of OCD-ADD. This means I get obsessed with a new project, then I get bored and find a new project. I never finish anything. I just move on to the next obsession.
23. I hate cold weather. And by cold I mean anthing below 75 degrees F.
24. I don't mind cleaning bathrooms or kitchens at all. This is because dirty sinks really bug me.
25. But I hate dusting.
26. I'm somewhat of a germophobe. This doesn't stop me from letting my dog lick my face.
27. I am retarded when it comes to home decorating. Just clueless.
28. I am probably the most opinionated person you will ever meet. I have no problem telling anyone how I feel. I don't always sugar-coat it either.
29. I have a grand total of 4 cousins. They are all boys.
30. My family is spread out all over God's Creation. I am jealous of people who can see their whole, extended family all the time. This is foreign to me.
31. Most of the people in my family are good cooks. The biscuit recipe we use is from my great-great grandmother. She was a pioneer out west. I think this is so cool.
32. I am an "indoor girl". This means that camping is not my idea of a good time.
33. But sitting on a porch or walking in a park is nice.
34. You'll never catch me doing anything that would put me at risk for bodily injury. I am a big wuss. I wouldn't even do a wheelie on my bike when I was a kid. I still wouldn't.
35. But I really don't mind public speaking.
36. Or going on blind dates.
37. I'm a social butterfly. Meeting new people is one of my favorite things to do. I am very very friendly.
38. I have a big mouth. No subject is off limits with me.
39. I have the largest makeup collection of anyone I know. I own at least 150 lipsticks alone. I shudder to think how much money I spend on it. But I can't stop.
40. The rest of my spending money goes towards candy, cookies and ice cream. My sweet tooth scares me sometimes.
41. I once ate two pounds of Jelly Belly jellybeans in one day. I only stopped because I ran out of jellybeans.
42. So I went back to the store to get more from the big scoop-em-yourself bins. They were out because I had just bought the last of them. So I busted open the display and I bought those.
43. I want to have a ton of kids one day. Like...five or six. I should probably get on that considering I'm 27 and single.
44. There are only three desserts I won't eat: key lime pie, anything with liquer in it and tiramisu. Yuck!
45. I'm slowly turning into my mother. This isn't too bad. She's pretty cool. Luckily I didn't inherit her short temper. Or her mediocre sense of humor. But she's much better at math. Dang.
46. I don't like the taste of wine. I don't even drink it at church. This has nothing to do with the fact that I don't drink alcohol at all.
47. I love dogs. I just got one and now I want to have 7 or 8. If I don't get married, I'll be a dog lady. And I'll adopt a bunch of kids.
48. But I dislike cats. I think I'm also mildly allergic to them. Plus, I find them very unfriendly and not at all fun to play with. They scratch me.
49. When I don't do anything productive, I get depressed. Busy VB is Happy VB.
50. I'm very old-fashioned in some ways. Door opening is big with me.
51. I am really really good a foreign languages. I can talk to you in French, Latin, Spanish and German.
52. I love anything Italian. Or Southern.
53. I feel I have nothing in common with hippies. Or most Yankees. Or gay people. I'm working on this. Please don't hate me. You can't change what you don't acknowledge. I'm not very p.c. I guess.
54. James Bond and the volleyball scene from Top Gun are the hottest things I've ever seen. They leave me speechless and drooling. Well, uniforms and tuxes are just hot! What can I say?
55. I have a thing for blondes with lots of muscles. Skinny men are really unattractive to me. I'm more of a football-player-build kinda girl.
56. I am totally against the whole Metrosexual movement. Manly men rock!
57. My hair is stick straight. Always. It laughs at me when I try to curl it.
58. I am on a constant quest to have clearer skin and longer nails.
59. I was in a sorority in college.
60. But I was never a cheerleader.
61. I did track for one year in high school.
62. Other than that, I am totally unathletic. I only work out to keep my figure.
63. There isn't a tomboy bone in my body. I am 100% girly girl.
64. But I do enjoy watching the occassional college football or basketball game.
65. I love my boobs but I hate my hips.
66. People think I am a half-Asian blonde girl, but I'm not. I have almond-shaped eyes because they are from the Scottish side of my family.
67. I have lots of random small-world moments. The stories give people chills.
68. I love horror movies, ghost stories and true crime stories.
69. I believe in ghosts. But I've never seen one. I have had weird stuff happen to me, though. I half-way believe in psychics.
70. When I was little, I was obsessed with fairies and My Little Ponies.
71. I think Mike Myers is hilarious. I also find animals very funny.
72. I also like British humor like Monty Python. I realize not everyone likes this.
73. I grew up on a farm. We grew raspberries and tobacco and had horses and cows.
74. I was raised Catholic. Like, old school Catholic. I had to wear a mantilla to church. Mass was in Latin. Because of this, I'm always having a guilt trip about something. It comes with the territory.
75. Then my family switched to Episcopalian a few years ago. We got fed up with the Catholic Church. Sometimes I miss being Catholic.
76. I am a huge history buff. Anything historical is cool.
77. I love to read when I'm in the mood. Usually I am reading to learn something. Yes, I am a big dork. I'm just not that into fiction, ok?
78. Addiction comes easily to me. This is not good.
79. I can play the violin. I played for many years.
80. I always wanted art lessons instead. I like drawing and love art.
81. I really identify with Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, the women on Sex and the City and Miss Piggy. I just realized that makes me sound like a bimbo. I'm not. Okay, maybe I am a little.
82. I really want a red convertible one day. And a house on the beach.
83. But if I won the lottery, I would buy a yacht and sail around the world, partying with all my friends. Kinda like the Big Pimpin' video.
84. I like all kinds of music except jazz. Especially rap. (It's okay to hate me for this.)
85. I am a nerd because I like school. Learning is really fun for me. I want to be in school again. I would take a class just for fun.
86. I am a know-it-all who needs to be called out.
87. I have a tendency to be close-minded and overly-conservative. But I'm working on it.
88. I always know what I want. Always.Wimpy people who are afraid to make decisions and can't make up their minds irritate the piss out of me.
89. Reading over my shoulder will get you an elbow to the face.
90. I once dated a guy with three testicles.
91. Any version of pink or green are my favorite colors.
92. I hate brown. And that mustard color.
93. I am a good person to borrow money from because I will forget about it five minutes later. But if I borrow money from you, I will also forget to repay you.
94. My baby brother died in a sudden drowning accident two years ago to the day. He was 18. Eight months later I lost my dad. Grief sucks. If another one of my family members dies, I'll kill them. Har har.
95. I never have cash on me. Ever.
96. I use my American Express card for everything. I am keeping them in business.
97. I don't usually like mushy and romantic stuff. After about 5 minutes of cheese, I want to barf. Flowers are an exception.
98. My toes are freakishly long. I think I could peel a banana with them, but I haven't tried.
99. I'm a horrible person to play a board game with: I am both a sore loser and a sore winner. I play for blood!!
100. I have a pair of lucky purple shoes. Every time I wear them, something cool happens.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Volunteering
Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live. -- Oscar Wilde
I hate volunteering. I know this sounds really selfish of me, but I do. So sue me. But I have my reasons for being selfish with my time and resentful of people asking me to give up free time. It's not that I have always hated volunteering or think it is bad . I applaud people who do. It's just that every time I volunteer, I feel I've been taken advantage of. I occasionally try to volunteer every so often, just to give it a try again. Each time, I end up resentful. This is because one of two things happens:
1. People swear up and down that I'm needed desperately, then when I go, there is nothing for me to do. It's really irritating to get up early on a Saturday morning and go somewhere, only to twiddle your thumbs. This is a complete waste of my time.
2. I tell people I can help out and I'm given the impression that I'm needed for a couple of hours. Then when I'm ready to help, they inform me that I'm scheduled to work for 10 hours. Again, this is really annoying. If you need me for ten hours, why not just say that instead of surprising me?
Recently, I made the mistake of volunteering for The Three Rivers Music Festival. It's an annual outdoor event here in Columbia this weekend. I didn't have much planned, and it's a hop, skip and a jump away from my front door, so I figured why not. Nice people volunteer. It makes you a better person. It makes you feel good. Blah blah blah.
So I went to the volunteer meeting. Our job is to work the booth where they sell the tshirts. Now, someone had already called me to tell me that they'd probably need me "for a couple of hours Friday night." This was fine, and what I expected. When I got there, the schedule has me down for Friday night and Saturday night--a total of TEN hours.
Yeah, because I have no life, apparently...grrrrrrrr......
Apparently when you tell them that your schedule is flexible and any day would work, they hear "I can be your bitch this weekend." Do they really think people want to do this that badly?? Here I was, thinking I was being a good volunteer by being flexible, when really I should have said "I can give you two hours. Take your pick." Gah, do you really have to spell it out for them like that? I thought it was a pretty safe assumption that I can be there for a little while, not during ALL prime social hours. And I can't believe no one else has to work as many hours! That's just not fair! This must be what I get for being flexible.
So now I hate them and am trying to figure out a way to tell them that this just isn't going to fly. Any ideas? Maybe I can think up a good excuse. I feel deceived and I'm annoyed they seem to think I don't have better things to do with my weekend. I don't mind helping, I just don't want to help that much. I'm selfish, I know.
The good news is, there's a decent chance of rain, which would really affect the attendance, so I'm praying for Monsoon '06 so it will be dead and I can leave early. (The funny thing is, we have not had any rain in like two months, and this concert is on the ONLY weekend where there has been a chance for rain. How ironic.)
This festival, btw, is often called "Bobfest", after our mayor, Bob Coble. He has a tendency to really push for this festival, regardless of its success. I read once that he always makes sure one of his personal favorite performers comes to the festival. And based on most of the acts in the past, he must have really bad taste. I am having a hard time understanding why city council is clinging so desperately to continuing this concert. It's only been around for a few years, and it is plagued with problems. They have lost money every year because of rain or because of crappy bands. This year may prove to be no different. I wish they would just give it up and admit defeat. Or re-tool it into something that works. I think they spread themselves too thin--there are about 50 performers every year, and usually about two are nationally recognized. People want to see bands they know. I think they should try to have fewer, yet more popular, acts. I also think they are too diverse in their music--I think it would work better if they focused it a little more. Few people want to see country, jazz, funk, rap, alternative rock, bluegrass, local bands, etc. I'm thinking they should limit it to just a couple of genres. Just my humble opinion. What do you think? Would you attend this festival? I've lived here for about 4 years now, and have yet to want to buy a ticket. It never appeals to me. (You can see a list of who's performing on their website.)
I read an article in the local paper that brought up a good point. We have a St. Patty's Day festival here. It draws 35,000 people for the one-day shindig. Last year, this 3 day music festival only drew 45,000. I really fail to see how it is working. They should look around and see what they can do differently instead of continuing with something that doesn't work.
Ok, didn't mean for this to be an editorial about the festival. Moving on...
K's boyfriend, Navy Guy, just found out he will end up being stationed in Norfolk, VA. This is a little bit better news, but not much. That's still about 6-7 hours away. So she and her man are in limbo for now. I feel really bad for them because it stinks when the purpose of a relationship is called into question thanks to an uncontrollable, outside source. I've been there. It's not fun. That's why I just simply don't date military men or do long distance any more. It's too painful when it happens.
So my oldest friend ever is coming to see me soon! I've been friends with J since I was 13 and I would probably have committed suicide in high school if it hadn't been for her! She kept me sane in our bizarre little world that was CHS. Remember that show, Beverly Hills 90210? That's what my high school was like--kids with their own Mercedes-Benzes. I graduated with about 750 people. I was one of two who didn't have their own car. Girls got boob jobs for graduation presents. People would buy entire new outfits at Abercrombie & Fitch every weekend so they never had to repeat an outfit. Everyone in that town had money to burn. It was surreal. For teens who lived in regular-sized homes with parents who made average salaries, this was social hell. If it hadn't been for J, I would have shriveled up with insecurity and envy.
Anyway, J is coming with her boyfriend and they are going to her family's reunion in Charleston. So I'll probably go with her. But I'll at least hang out with her when she's here in Columbia for a day. I haven't seen her in about 5 years, so I'm pretty excited.
Repo had a job interview with a hotel the other day, and he said it went really really well. I think he will be getting a job offer, which would be awesome. I think he might even be looking at a raise! My fingers are definitely crossed, even though he'd probably be working hours that are just as bad. But at least he wouldn't be dealing with The Pig or people who pull guns on him when he goes to repossess their stuff. I still can't believe he puts up with that!
In Sammy news, he went to the vet yesterday. He was unbelievably good! He just waited patiently as the vet poked and prodded him. Well, except when she took the stool sample. He didn't really enjoy that. But who would? He was such a good boy! He is perfectly healthy and happy. Yay!
Navy Guy is in town for a few days and he's been taking Sammy for lots of walks and runs. Poor little Sammy was exhausted by the time I got home last night! He was too tired to even jump up and greet me. His eyes were half-closed and he had this look on his face like "Please! Let's go to bed!"
This morning I thought he would like to sleep in, so I didn't wake him up to go potty. (The dog, not Navy Guy.) I figured that since Navy Guy is hanging out at our apartment all day by himself, he would just take Sammy out later. Well....of course, Sammy waited until I was 5 minutes late for work to insist that he needed to go out now. I quickly took him outside, where he made the hugest poop ever. I swear, it was a third of his body weight. And there were all these noises which kept distracting him, so it took him forever to finish. Gah! And it smelled so bad I started gagging and I was in a hurry because I was late for work, and it was all so humorous, I started laughing my butt off. So there I was, standing in the middle of my apartment complex, gagging and laughing my ass off, with a bag of dog shit in my hand, nagging my dog to poop faster. I must have looked like a loony tune!
I hate volunteering. I know this sounds really selfish of me, but I do. So sue me. But I have my reasons for being selfish with my time and resentful of people asking me to give up free time. It's not that I have always hated volunteering or think it is bad . I applaud people who do. It's just that every time I volunteer, I feel I've been taken advantage of. I occasionally try to volunteer every so often, just to give it a try again. Each time, I end up resentful. This is because one of two things happens:
1. People swear up and down that I'm needed desperately, then when I go, there is nothing for me to do. It's really irritating to get up early on a Saturday morning and go somewhere, only to twiddle your thumbs. This is a complete waste of my time.
2. I tell people I can help out and I'm given the impression that I'm needed for a couple of hours. Then when I'm ready to help, they inform me that I'm scheduled to work for 10 hours. Again, this is really annoying. If you need me for ten hours, why not just say that instead of surprising me?
Recently, I made the mistake of volunteering for The Three Rivers Music Festival. It's an annual outdoor event here in Columbia this weekend. I didn't have much planned, and it's a hop, skip and a jump away from my front door, so I figured why not. Nice people volunteer. It makes you a better person. It makes you feel good. Blah blah blah.
So I went to the volunteer meeting. Our job is to work the booth where they sell the tshirts. Now, someone had already called me to tell me that they'd probably need me "for a couple of hours Friday night." This was fine, and what I expected. When I got there, the schedule has me down for Friday night and Saturday night--a total of TEN hours.
Yeah, because I have no life, apparently...grrrrrrrr......
Apparently when you tell them that your schedule is flexible and any day would work, they hear "I can be your bitch this weekend." Do they really think people want to do this that badly?? Here I was, thinking I was being a good volunteer by being flexible, when really I should have said "I can give you two hours. Take your pick." Gah, do you really have to spell it out for them like that? I thought it was a pretty safe assumption that I can be there for a little while, not during ALL prime social hours. And I can't believe no one else has to work as many hours! That's just not fair! This must be what I get for being flexible.
So now I hate them and am trying to figure out a way to tell them that this just isn't going to fly. Any ideas? Maybe I can think up a good excuse. I feel deceived and I'm annoyed they seem to think I don't have better things to do with my weekend. I don't mind helping, I just don't want to help that much. I'm selfish, I know.
The good news is, there's a decent chance of rain, which would really affect the attendance, so I'm praying for Monsoon '06 so it will be dead and I can leave early. (The funny thing is, we have not had any rain in like two months, and this concert is on the ONLY weekend where there has been a chance for rain. How ironic.)
This festival, btw, is often called "Bobfest", after our mayor, Bob Coble. He has a tendency to really push for this festival, regardless of its success. I read once that he always makes sure one of his personal favorite performers comes to the festival. And based on most of the acts in the past, he must have really bad taste. I am having a hard time understanding why city council is clinging so desperately to continuing this concert. It's only been around for a few years, and it is plagued with problems. They have lost money every year because of rain or because of crappy bands. This year may prove to be no different. I wish they would just give it up and admit defeat. Or re-tool it into something that works. I think they spread themselves too thin--there are about 50 performers every year, and usually about two are nationally recognized. People want to see bands they know. I think they should try to have fewer, yet more popular, acts. I also think they are too diverse in their music--I think it would work better if they focused it a little more. Few people want to see country, jazz, funk, rap, alternative rock, bluegrass, local bands, etc. I'm thinking they should limit it to just a couple of genres. Just my humble opinion. What do you think? Would you attend this festival? I've lived here for about 4 years now, and have yet to want to buy a ticket. It never appeals to me. (You can see a list of who's performing on their website.)
I read an article in the local paper that brought up a good point. We have a St. Patty's Day festival here. It draws 35,000 people for the one-day shindig. Last year, this 3 day music festival only drew 45,000. I really fail to see how it is working. They should look around and see what they can do differently instead of continuing with something that doesn't work.
Ok, didn't mean for this to be an editorial about the festival. Moving on...
K's boyfriend, Navy Guy, just found out he will end up being stationed in Norfolk, VA. This is a little bit better news, but not much. That's still about 6-7 hours away. So she and her man are in limbo for now. I feel really bad for them because it stinks when the purpose of a relationship is called into question thanks to an uncontrollable, outside source. I've been there. It's not fun. That's why I just simply don't date military men or do long distance any more. It's too painful when it happens.
So my oldest friend ever is coming to see me soon! I've been friends with J since I was 13 and I would probably have committed suicide in high school if it hadn't been for her! She kept me sane in our bizarre little world that was CHS. Remember that show, Beverly Hills 90210? That's what my high school was like--kids with their own Mercedes-Benzes. I graduated with about 750 people. I was one of two who didn't have their own car. Girls got boob jobs for graduation presents. People would buy entire new outfits at Abercrombie & Fitch every weekend so they never had to repeat an outfit. Everyone in that town had money to burn. It was surreal. For teens who lived in regular-sized homes with parents who made average salaries, this was social hell. If it hadn't been for J, I would have shriveled up with insecurity and envy.
Anyway, J is coming with her boyfriend and they are going to her family's reunion in Charleston. So I'll probably go with her. But I'll at least hang out with her when she's here in Columbia for a day. I haven't seen her in about 5 years, so I'm pretty excited.
Repo had a job interview with a hotel the other day, and he said it went really really well. I think he will be getting a job offer, which would be awesome. I think he might even be looking at a raise! My fingers are definitely crossed, even though he'd probably be working hours that are just as bad. But at least he wouldn't be dealing with The Pig or people who pull guns on him when he goes to repossess their stuff. I still can't believe he puts up with that!
In Sammy news, he went to the vet yesterday. He was unbelievably good! He just waited patiently as the vet poked and prodded him. Well, except when she took the stool sample. He didn't really enjoy that. But who would? He was such a good boy! He is perfectly healthy and happy. Yay!
Navy Guy is in town for a few days and he's been taking Sammy for lots of walks and runs. Poor little Sammy was exhausted by the time I got home last night! He was too tired to even jump up and greet me. His eyes were half-closed and he had this look on his face like "Please! Let's go to bed!"
This morning I thought he would like to sleep in, so I didn't wake him up to go potty. (The dog, not Navy Guy.) I figured that since Navy Guy is hanging out at our apartment all day by himself, he would just take Sammy out later. Well....of course, Sammy waited until I was 5 minutes late for work to insist that he needed to go out now. I quickly took him outside, where he made the hugest poop ever. I swear, it was a third of his body weight. And there were all these noises which kept distracting him, so it took him forever to finish. Gah! And it smelled so bad I started gagging and I was in a hurry because I was late for work, and it was all so humorous, I started laughing my butt off. So there I was, standing in the middle of my apartment complex, gagging and laughing my ass off, with a bag of dog shit in my hand, nagging my dog to poop faster. I must have looked like a loony tune!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Coping Skills
This past weekend I learned that two of my friends are having a very hard time of things. My natural reaction is concern and worry. Unfortunately, there is little I can do to help either of them. One is too far away for me to help with anything other than a kind word of support, which they probably wouldn't have the time or energy to read. I'm basically powerless as they cry. At least their problem is tangible and understandable.
The other is going through some kind of personal identity crisis I don't fully understand. There's this feeling of immense pressure to do and have it all. They're bummed out because they aren't where they think they should be at this stage in life. There are some family issues, too. They're stressed out and exhausted and "just going through some stuff." They'll "be fine" because it's "not like a serious depression." And that "it" runs in the family. They were unable to fully explain how it differs from just normal stress or sum it up in one sentence or one feeling. I don't fully understand what is wrong. I don't understand this "it." Are there varying levels of depression? Because it sounds an awful lot like the big D to me.
The hard part is, these friends of mine are trying to do everything themselves instead of reaching out, talking to someone or trying to keep things in perspective. They are (or have been in the past) on medication for anxiety and depression. They are crying and drinking. Apparently it's been going on for a while and they are just now telling their close friends. I'm worried that both of them are downplaying their problems so I won't worry about them. (Um, that doesn't work. It just makes me worry even more.) So other than telling them I am here for them, and encouraging them to get some help, I don't know what else to do. This kind of behavior is totally foreign to me. I honestly cannot relate.
I have no history of depression, anxiety or any other mental disease in my family. None of us take medication or go to therapy. Trust me, I am grateful for this. And I'm not saying that we don't need it in my family! I just have zero experience with this kind of stuff. The closest we come in my family is what we like to call "The Irish Blues."
My genetic make-up is 2/3 Irish, and my mother is a drama queen, so according to her, we all have this special disorder: In a nutshell, we get bummed out in my family if we aren't productive little monkeys all the time. Sounds weird, I know. When I start having negative thoughts or feeling bummed, I realize that it's because I haven't done anything remotely productive or even looked at my To-Do List in weeks and now I'm feeling like a worthless human. Either that or I'm hormonal. (Why do we think so negatively when we are PMSing?) All it takes is for me to jump up and run a few errands. Voila! Back to normal. It is just that simple.
Don't get me wrong. We suffer from grief in my family, like when my little brother died. And when WLF (my dad) died eight months later. But after a couple of months of being kind of melancholy, it's back to normal. Not that we behave like it never even happened, but it's pretty close. The Czarina (mom) lost both of her parents when she was 21. To this day, she does not talk about it. I know very little about them because she won't discuss them. It makes me sad, but I understand. She is an extremely strong woman and this is her coping strategy. She wouldn't be able to do it otherwise. Some people see this as unhealthy, but it's just the way my family deals with stuff. I'm not as bad as her, but I'm close. Maybe sometimes it's good to repress, because I'm doing pretty well considering the past two years have been total hell on my family.
I have friends who have lost parents, siblings, grandparents, good friends, etc. Some of them talk about it all the time and are having a hard time moving on with their lives. I can understand this completely. I know parents who have kept the lost child's room exactly as it appeared when the child was alive. Again, I can understand this. It's just not how I cope. I look at their behavior and think, "Woah, that's not healthy." But I'm sure they look at my coping strategy and think the same thing.
Why is it so (relatively) easy for me? I feel guilty that after a couple of months, I was ok. One friend of mine still cries about losing her brother two years ago. It's not that it doesn't even cross my mind. I miss WLF and my brother all the time. And I'm sure The Czarina misses them too. But we've been there, done that. We've moved on. We rarely cry about it and we haven't needed therapy or medication. We don't talk about it, really. They are not forgotten, but we're not dwelling either. Why is my family so different? Are we callous, unfeeling people? Are we in denial to the point of absurdity? Or are we just extremely strong and really good at coping? Are we normal? Or are the other people normal?
Overall, I am a really happy person. Very little gets me down. (Notice I said "down" not "pissed off".) There are a few things I want to change about my life, but no life is perfect. I'm employed, healthy, loved, safe, etc. I'm grateful that I don't have to worry about much and I have very little stress in my life. I try to keep it this way, too, and make decisions accordingly. I try to keep stuff in perspective and stay grounded. (Maybe I just have low standards for myself!) So how do I deal when people I love don't see things this way? How do you tell someone to keep stuff in perspective when they obviously can't? How can I help them when I don't understand them?
The other is going through some kind of personal identity crisis I don't fully understand. There's this feeling of immense pressure to do and have it all. They're bummed out because they aren't where they think they should be at this stage in life. There are some family issues, too. They're stressed out and exhausted and "just going through some stuff." They'll "be fine" because it's "not like a serious depression." And that "it" runs in the family. They were unable to fully explain how it differs from just normal stress or sum it up in one sentence or one feeling. I don't fully understand what is wrong. I don't understand this "it." Are there varying levels of depression? Because it sounds an awful lot like the big D to me.
The hard part is, these friends of mine are trying to do everything themselves instead of reaching out, talking to someone or trying to keep things in perspective. They are (or have been in the past) on medication for anxiety and depression. They are crying and drinking. Apparently it's been going on for a while and they are just now telling their close friends. I'm worried that both of them are downplaying their problems so I won't worry about them. (Um, that doesn't work. It just makes me worry even more.) So other than telling them I am here for them, and encouraging them to get some help, I don't know what else to do. This kind of behavior is totally foreign to me. I honestly cannot relate.
I have no history of depression, anxiety or any other mental disease in my family. None of us take medication or go to therapy. Trust me, I am grateful for this. And I'm not saying that we don't need it in my family! I just have zero experience with this kind of stuff. The closest we come in my family is what we like to call "The Irish Blues."
My genetic make-up is 2/3 Irish, and my mother is a drama queen, so according to her, we all have this special disorder: In a nutshell, we get bummed out in my family if we aren't productive little monkeys all the time. Sounds weird, I know. When I start having negative thoughts or feeling bummed, I realize that it's because I haven't done anything remotely productive or even looked at my To-Do List in weeks and now I'm feeling like a worthless human. Either that or I'm hormonal. (Why do we think so negatively when we are PMSing?) All it takes is for me to jump up and run a few errands. Voila! Back to normal. It is just that simple.
Don't get me wrong. We suffer from grief in my family, like when my little brother died. And when WLF (my dad) died eight months later. But after a couple of months of being kind of melancholy, it's back to normal. Not that we behave like it never even happened, but it's pretty close. The Czarina (mom) lost both of her parents when she was 21. To this day, she does not talk about it. I know very little about them because she won't discuss them. It makes me sad, but I understand. She is an extremely strong woman and this is her coping strategy. She wouldn't be able to do it otherwise. Some people see this as unhealthy, but it's just the way my family deals with stuff. I'm not as bad as her, but I'm close. Maybe sometimes it's good to repress, because I'm doing pretty well considering the past two years have been total hell on my family.
I have friends who have lost parents, siblings, grandparents, good friends, etc. Some of them talk about it all the time and are having a hard time moving on with their lives. I can understand this completely. I know parents who have kept the lost child's room exactly as it appeared when the child was alive. Again, I can understand this. It's just not how I cope. I look at their behavior and think, "Woah, that's not healthy." But I'm sure they look at my coping strategy and think the same thing.
Why is it so (relatively) easy for me? I feel guilty that after a couple of months, I was ok. One friend of mine still cries about losing her brother two years ago. It's not that it doesn't even cross my mind. I miss WLF and my brother all the time. And I'm sure The Czarina misses them too. But we've been there, done that. We've moved on. We rarely cry about it and we haven't needed therapy or medication. We don't talk about it, really. They are not forgotten, but we're not dwelling either. Why is my family so different? Are we callous, unfeeling people? Are we in denial to the point of absurdity? Or are we just extremely strong and really good at coping? Are we normal? Or are the other people normal?
Overall, I am a really happy person. Very little gets me down. (Notice I said "down" not "pissed off".) There are a few things I want to change about my life, but no life is perfect. I'm employed, healthy, loved, safe, etc. I'm grateful that I don't have to worry about much and I have very little stress in my life. I try to keep it this way, too, and make decisions accordingly. I try to keep stuff in perspective and stay grounded. (Maybe I just have low standards for myself!) So how do I deal when people I love don't see things this way? How do you tell someone to keep stuff in perspective when they obviously can't? How can I help them when I don't understand them?
Thursday, February 23, 2006
The Alcoholic
If the headache would only precede the intoxication, alcoholism would be a virtue. --Samuel Butler
Those of you who know me in real life know that I do not consume alcohol. Not on New Year's, not at church, not on my 21st birthday, not even when there is booze in a dessert. I do not consume alcohol. Ever. In fact, I don't even take sips of other peoples' drinks. I have no idea what gin or cabernet taste like. I have never had a Cosmo or an appletini. That's the bad news. The good news is, I've never had Zima either! ha!
It is not for religious reasons. It is not an allergy. It's not because I don't like the taste. It is because I have a problem with alcohol. I have not had a drop since the summer of 1998. So, if you do the math, that means I had plenty of drinking going on in high school and my freshman year of college. Let me assure you, I drank enough to last a lifetime during those few years! But I wouldn't know that from personal experience. It's only what people have told me the next day when I was trying to drown out the pounding in my head with nausea-reducing pancakes. I'm not going to recount all the scary and stupid stuff that I did, but let's just say one of my wake-up calls was one morning in college when I woke up in my dorm room wearing party clothes and did not even remember going out the night before. To this day, I have no inkling of what I did, how embarrassing I must have been or even who I was with. This was one of several blackouts I had before I quit.
You see, my family is probably quite different than yours. It is made up of about 50% alcoholics. I don't have alkies on one side of my family. No, I lucked out and got them on both sides. Let's see...there's two grandparents, three brothers, The Czarina (my mom), my mom's aunt, one of her cousins, oh, and me. To date, Czarina's aunt and one of my brothers have died in alcohol-related deaths. The other two brothers will probably kill themselves too, one day, if they don't stop drinking. They have each had several DUIs and wrecked cars from driving drunk. They have lost jobs, custody of their children, wives and girlfriends because of alcohol. It is the only important thing to them.
The good news is, The Czarina, one grandparent and myself have all quit. None of us have had any relapses. And we all did it without the help of AA, somehow. (Supposedly, this is unheard of. I do think AA is a successful program--I am not bashing on it in any way.) Luckily, The Czarina quit before I was three, so I did not grow up in an alcoholic home. I cannot imagine how horrible that would be or how different I might be had that been the case. I am grateful to her every day for that.
I truly doubt I will ever drink again, as it is such a way of life for me. The only time I'm even tempted is when it's Girls' Night Out, because I do miss that. But really, it was pretty easy for me to quit. The Czarina says that's because I quit before really letting it get a hold of me. If I had kept drinking for too much longer, it would have been very difficult, I think. (A lot of people don't know it, but alcoholism can take years to develop and be full-blown.) I do miss the taste of beer very much sometimes, so I drink non-alcoholic beer, which tastes like piss, unfortunately. And I do miss tequila. But most of the time, I don't think about booze at all. The only time I'm around alcohol is when I go out to bars or parties. It's funny, because sometimes I forget you can buy alcohol at stores and drink it at home!
I would not be where I am today if I had not quit. I would have probably been date raped, gotten a DUI, flunked out of college or killed myself in some kind of accident. I can say this with certainty, because I came dangerously close to all of those situations before I quit. I have been drunk in class, drunk behind the wheel, drunk in a room alone with a strange guy. I am the luckiest girl alive, because I could have gotten really screwed up.
A lot of people don't understand what my family goes through. Unless you have serious alcoholics in your family, you probably won't ever understand. It's not "oh, they are just having a good time" or "oh, you can have a couple". Alcoholics are seriously screwing up their lives. It's nothing to be taken lightly, trust me. Watching an alcoholic in action is one of the scariest things I've ever seen. But maybe that's because now I'm seeing it from the other side. Sometimes I get really angry at the way our society is so alcoholic-friendly. Being a hard core partier is a badge of honor, especially in college. I know that a lot of people are just having a good time or just being college students. And a lot of people are truly just having a good time and don't have problems. But not everyone is in control.
In a nutshell, alcoholics' bodies do not process drinks they way your body does. It is hard to explain, but that's the best way to put it. I like to think that it is misunderstood in the same way that depression is misunderstood--"Just stop being sad." Only to alcoholics, it's "Ok, so just drink one." Well, it isn't that easy. Alcoholics' brains do not think properly. They don't understand the point of drinking unless it is to get drunk. Having "just one" literally doesn't compute. They worry they won't have access to alcohol, so they can be very possessive about it. They worry everyone thinks they can't handle alcohol, so they hide it or lie about it. They are constantly trying to prove that they are in control of the alcohol, rather than the other way around. (This is why they have a tendency to drive drunk.) Their personalities change when they drink--a normally nice person will become an asshole. (I would pick fights with my friends, for example. This makes no sense, because in reality, I am a complete wuss who loves her friends very much.) They will gradually drink more and more as time goes on. Their tolerance is incredible. They are not picky about what they drink. (I cannot stand the taste of vodka. But if that was all there was, I'd drink the hell out of it!) They run to alcohol to drown out their problems. They pressure other people to drink so that they aren't the only ones drinking. I have thought and acted just like all of these situations I just described. There are more signs, but I'm sure you've got the idea. (And a lot of signs are obvious to anyone. Someone who drinks alone or at work obviously has a problem.) But a lot of signs are only evident to other alcoholics. I can sniff out another alkie very easily because I see them acting how I used to act. And let me tell you, I see a lot of people acting like this.
A lot of people are hesitant to think, believe or even say that someone they know has an alcohol problem. It's almost like saying someone has cancer. I wish people would treat alcoholism as seriously. I have heard a statistic that states one out of every 5 people is an alcoholic. But then again, The Czarina is the source of that information, and she thinks everyone is an alcoholic! We tease her about it sometimes, but she might be right. It's a fairly prevalent disease--yes, it is classified as a disease--with a highly genetic tendency. Normally, if your family isn't affected, you know someone whose family is affected. Unfortunately, the only cure is for the alcoholic to find something they want more than alcohol. Only then will they sacrifice alcohol to get what they want. I myself wanted to graduate college and have a good relationship with The Czarina. So I quit. And I haven't looked back. Not once.
I have to say, it's pretty nice sometimes. I never have hangovers. I never have to puke or sleep with one foot on the floor. I spend virtually no money when I go out. I can always drive, so I'm usually the designated driver. Which is probably my favorite thing, because I get to say when it's time to go home. Really, it's better this way.
So what is the main drawback? I know you are saying, "Duh! You can't drink! That sucks!" But that's not the bad part. What's hard is being around strangers who ask nosy questions about why I don't drink (I swear I'm going to start telling people I'm pregnant!) or people who pressure me to have "just a sip" after I've said "No, thank you." seven times. It's awkward when people buy me shots and I have to say no. It's annoying to have to explain to people that having a good time does not always require alcohol. Some people just don't get it. But usually they are the ones with the problem.
Those of you who know me in real life know that I do not consume alcohol. Not on New Year's, not at church, not on my 21st birthday, not even when there is booze in a dessert. I do not consume alcohol. Ever. In fact, I don't even take sips of other peoples' drinks. I have no idea what gin or cabernet taste like. I have never had a Cosmo or an appletini. That's the bad news. The good news is, I've never had Zima either! ha!
It is not for religious reasons. It is not an allergy. It's not because I don't like the taste. It is because I have a problem with alcohol. I have not had a drop since the summer of 1998. So, if you do the math, that means I had plenty of drinking going on in high school and my freshman year of college. Let me assure you, I drank enough to last a lifetime during those few years! But I wouldn't know that from personal experience. It's only what people have told me the next day when I was trying to drown out the pounding in my head with nausea-reducing pancakes. I'm not going to recount all the scary and stupid stuff that I did, but let's just say one of my wake-up calls was one morning in college when I woke up in my dorm room wearing party clothes and did not even remember going out the night before. To this day, I have no inkling of what I did, how embarrassing I must have been or even who I was with. This was one of several blackouts I had before I quit.
You see, my family is probably quite different than yours. It is made up of about 50% alcoholics. I don't have alkies on one side of my family. No, I lucked out and got them on both sides. Let's see...there's two grandparents, three brothers, The Czarina (my mom), my mom's aunt, one of her cousins, oh, and me. To date, Czarina's aunt and one of my brothers have died in alcohol-related deaths. The other two brothers will probably kill themselves too, one day, if they don't stop drinking. They have each had several DUIs and wrecked cars from driving drunk. They have lost jobs, custody of their children, wives and girlfriends because of alcohol. It is the only important thing to them.
The good news is, The Czarina, one grandparent and myself have all quit. None of us have had any relapses. And we all did it without the help of AA, somehow. (Supposedly, this is unheard of. I do think AA is a successful program--I am not bashing on it in any way.) Luckily, The Czarina quit before I was three, so I did not grow up in an alcoholic home. I cannot imagine how horrible that would be or how different I might be had that been the case. I am grateful to her every day for that.
I truly doubt I will ever drink again, as it is such a way of life for me. The only time I'm even tempted is when it's Girls' Night Out, because I do miss that. But really, it was pretty easy for me to quit. The Czarina says that's because I quit before really letting it get a hold of me. If I had kept drinking for too much longer, it would have been very difficult, I think. (A lot of people don't know it, but alcoholism can take years to develop and be full-blown.) I do miss the taste of beer very much sometimes, so I drink non-alcoholic beer, which tastes like piss, unfortunately. And I do miss tequila. But most of the time, I don't think about booze at all. The only time I'm around alcohol is when I go out to bars or parties. It's funny, because sometimes I forget you can buy alcohol at stores and drink it at home!
I would not be where I am today if I had not quit. I would have probably been date raped, gotten a DUI, flunked out of college or killed myself in some kind of accident. I can say this with certainty, because I came dangerously close to all of those situations before I quit. I have been drunk in class, drunk behind the wheel, drunk in a room alone with a strange guy. I am the luckiest girl alive, because I could have gotten really screwed up.
A lot of people don't understand what my family goes through. Unless you have serious alcoholics in your family, you probably won't ever understand. It's not "oh, they are just having a good time" or "oh, you can have a couple". Alcoholics are seriously screwing up their lives. It's nothing to be taken lightly, trust me. Watching an alcoholic in action is one of the scariest things I've ever seen. But maybe that's because now I'm seeing it from the other side. Sometimes I get really angry at the way our society is so alcoholic-friendly. Being a hard core partier is a badge of honor, especially in college. I know that a lot of people are just having a good time or just being college students. And a lot of people are truly just having a good time and don't have problems. But not everyone is in control.
In a nutshell, alcoholics' bodies do not process drinks they way your body does. It is hard to explain, but that's the best way to put it. I like to think that it is misunderstood in the same way that depression is misunderstood--"Just stop being sad." Only to alcoholics, it's "Ok, so just drink one." Well, it isn't that easy. Alcoholics' brains do not think properly. They don't understand the point of drinking unless it is to get drunk. Having "just one" literally doesn't compute. They worry they won't have access to alcohol, so they can be very possessive about it. They worry everyone thinks they can't handle alcohol, so they hide it or lie about it. They are constantly trying to prove that they are in control of the alcohol, rather than the other way around. (This is why they have a tendency to drive drunk.) Their personalities change when they drink--a normally nice person will become an asshole. (I would pick fights with my friends, for example. This makes no sense, because in reality, I am a complete wuss who loves her friends very much.) They will gradually drink more and more as time goes on. Their tolerance is incredible. They are not picky about what they drink. (I cannot stand the taste of vodka. But if that was all there was, I'd drink the hell out of it!) They run to alcohol to drown out their problems. They pressure other people to drink so that they aren't the only ones drinking. I have thought and acted just like all of these situations I just described. There are more signs, but I'm sure you've got the idea. (And a lot of signs are obvious to anyone. Someone who drinks alone or at work obviously has a problem.) But a lot of signs are only evident to other alcoholics. I can sniff out another alkie very easily because I see them acting how I used to act. And let me tell you, I see a lot of people acting like this.
A lot of people are hesitant to think, believe or even say that someone they know has an alcohol problem. It's almost like saying someone has cancer. I wish people would treat alcoholism as seriously. I have heard a statistic that states one out of every 5 people is an alcoholic. But then again, The Czarina is the source of that information, and she thinks everyone is an alcoholic! We tease her about it sometimes, but she might be right. It's a fairly prevalent disease--yes, it is classified as a disease--with a highly genetic tendency. Normally, if your family isn't affected, you know someone whose family is affected. Unfortunately, the only cure is for the alcoholic to find something they want more than alcohol. Only then will they sacrifice alcohol to get what they want. I myself wanted to graduate college and have a good relationship with The Czarina. So I quit. And I haven't looked back. Not once.
I have to say, it's pretty nice sometimes. I never have hangovers. I never have to puke or sleep with one foot on the floor. I spend virtually no money when I go out. I can always drive, so I'm usually the designated driver. Which is probably my favorite thing, because I get to say when it's time to go home. Really, it's better this way.
So what is the main drawback? I know you are saying, "Duh! You can't drink! That sucks!" But that's not the bad part. What's hard is being around strangers who ask nosy questions about why I don't drink (I swear I'm going to start telling people I'm pregnant!) or people who pressure me to have "just a sip" after I've said "No, thank you." seven times. It's awkward when people buy me shots and I have to say no. It's annoying to have to explain to people that having a good time does not always require alcohol. Some people just don't get it. But usually they are the ones with the problem.
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