Weirdsville

CN and I went out last night with some of my coworkers, so he is sleeping off the beers, which means I am free to blog without him standing over me or trying to grab my boobs. Yay!

I am very excited to write this post, as it's been a long time coming. I knew within days of moving to Savannah that I would have to start keeping track of this stuff. I should have kept a list, because I know I am going to forget some things. Maybe I will just post them as I remember them.

Without further ado, I present to you a list of all the really strange things I have witnessed since moving to the weirdest town I've ever lived in -- Savannah, Georgia.

1. I was walking with MJ around my neighborhood, when we saw a guy walking in the opposite direction. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, as he is crossing a street, he busts out into breakdancing. We are confused and amazed, and so we stop to watch. Then, just as quickly, he jumps up and goes right back to walking to wherever he was going.

2. There is a guy I see on occassion downtown. He wears a white pharaoh's outfit, complete with that ancient Egyptian-style headdress. I cannot figure out if he needs to wear that for a job of some kind or what. But he never changes into street clothes before walking home. This is odd to me.

3. One morning, just before 8am, I was walking to work. To save time, I cut through an old cemetery in the middle of downtown. Usually, it is full of people walking to work or walking their dogs or tourists who read the historical markers. This particular morning, I crossed paths with a guy carrying 4 big bottles of Gain liquid laundry detergent. He was in a part of town that was nowhere near any stores or laundromats-- especially none open at 7am. And even if he was, why would you buy four at once and carry them around??? This one still puzzles me.

4. To cut through this cemetery, I have to go through a back gate and a front gate, as the perimeter is fenced in. For months, both gates were open from at least 7:30am until about 8pm. Then, one day, they started locking only the back gate at 5pm, sharp. This means I had to take a longer way to get home. I asked the security guard one day why they started locking the back gate at 5, and he couldn't give me an answer. If the front gate stays open until 8pm, what does it matter if the back gate does, too?? UGH!

5. Now that it is hot, I drive to work and park in a parking lot about 3 blocks from work. As I walk along these three blocks, I pass a Mexican restaurant. One day, there was a man standing outside of it, facing the wall of the restaurant. He was talking to himself. Loudly. And gesturing with his arms and legs vigorously. I crossed the street to avoid this wack job. That's when I noticed there were several pedestrians, and we were all staring at him. The crazy guy suddenly looked up and saw one of the other pedestrians, and immediately stopped.

6. I think I forgot to mention that I attended the festivities for St. Patty's Day a few months back. Now, it's a pretty crazy time here in Savannah. It's as important to us as Mardi Gras is to New Orleans. I mean, St. Patty's has been celebrated here for like, 130 years. Anytime you get a large group of drunk people together, you're going to see some crazy stuff. But imagine my surprise when I saw a fully grown man, wearing nothing but sunglasses and a very large diaper!

7. One day, CN and I found an empty jar of Nutella in our backyard. We have no idea how it got there. Some Nutella-flinging freak was done with it, I suppose.

8. I have a neighbor who, luckily for me, lives too far away to bother me with his habit of getting up at 5am to blare music from the 1980s from his front porch. The music is on all. day. long.

9. CN saw a fully-dressed clown walking down the street once. It was a sad-faced clown. Odd.

10. We have not received our electricity bill in two months. Luckily, the library where I work is directly across the street from the electric company's customer service center, so I just pay it on my lunch break when I know it's probably due. But the rest of our mail makes it to our house, no problem.

There are lots more, guys, but I just can't think of them right now. This is seriously the oddest town I have ever seen! I'll share more in the future.

*Yawn!* Ok, I think I will get on my bike and ride to Starbucks for some coffee. Happy 4th of July, everyone!

Growing Pains

Just to clarify for everyone, I am not blogging right now so that I can talk about my boyfriend's "small wiener" because I "don't even like him anymore."

Ugh. This is all I am listening to until my drunk boyfriend goes to bed. It's like a frigging record player. He's joking when he says it, but he's slurring. Which would be funny. The first 43 times.

Oh crap. He just came in and read all of that over my shoulder. Now he's talking about how I "don't even like him anymore." Again. According to him, he is sleeping on the couch (he's not) because I hate him (I don't). Ooh, he turned on American Idol. Sweet. It's like my own personal boyfriend babysitter. Silence is golden. I can blog in peace.

*Mumblings about how I don't even like him because he has a small wiener are heard from the living room couch.*

"No, you don't have a small wiener. It's massive and I can barely handle it," I am saying.

He said something about buttholes. I don't know.

Gotta love this insight into our lives, huh? I am tired and he's drunk. Hence this weird post. We have this exact conversation anytime he has more than 4 beers. Luckily, you are not physically here with us, so you don't have to witness him grabbing my boobs and "massaging" (read: man-handling them like he's tenderizing a steak) them, which causes me to slap his hands away and tell him to leave me alone.

This inevitably leads to another slurring rant about how I don't like him and his theoretically small wiener. Only this time, since my stalker (yes, the same stalker) tried to friend me AGAIN on myspace today, he now follows it up with, "You probably want Sylvester's wiener!! I know it!!"

UGH.

This is actually a perfect intro for what I want to talk about today. I knew that since CN and I have always gotten along extremely well (it's kind of unreal, actually, how well we get along) that ...

"No, I am not blogging lies about you," I just yelled to him.

Negative mumblings from the couch.

"Yes, I do love you," I continue. Please go back to talking to Paula Abdul, I think to myself.

Where was I? Oh yes. I knew it would go pretty well, this whole moving in together thing. I knew we would not have any major problems. And we don't. But the devil's in the details, you know? Here are some things I have learned about him since this whole moving thing has taken place:

1. He gives new meaning to the label "pack rat". He makes me look like an amateur. I told him I'd help him pack up his stuff/get rid of stuff he doesn't want anymore. So we go to Columbia for the weekend to get started on packing his stuff. 15 garbage bags full of trash later, he realizes he doesn't have as much stuff as he thought and I realize he hasn't thrown anything away since the 12th grade. Who keeps notebooks full of notes from college classes????!!

2. He is apparently incapable of closing a shower curtain when he's done taking a shower. This irks the crap out of me, because you might as well tell Mr. and Mrs. Mildew to just sit down and make themselves comfortable on your plastic...

"No I don't! Your wiener is not small and ugly! I love you very much and I am not telling lies about you! Your wiener smells fine!! I'm not telling anyone that!"

Ok, anyway, you get what I'm saying about the wet shower curtain.

3. Did you know that the phrases "resealable packaging" and "to prevent them from drying out" are lost on some people? Yup. My boyfriend is one of them. Baby wipes, cleaning wipes, you name it. Left open to the air. Worthless.

4. He owns approximately 587 towels. Somewhere there is a 20 year old son of a cotton industry magnate, driving his own BMW paid for by my boyfriend's towel collection.

5. Did I mention that he only uses the towel once before they are "dirty"? Which is funny to me, because he only uses them to dry off his squeaky clean body when he gets out of the shower, which will soon be full of mildew, thanks to his inability to understand the concept of fungi. If you are doing the math, this is at least 7 "dirty" towels per week from him. This makes him a complete freak, in my book.

I am not singling out my boyfriend, though. Oh yes. I am also dealing with some harsh reality of self-reflection:

1. The discussion we had about Absurd Overusage of Bath Towels and Their Laundering made me realize that I had no earthly idea how long it had been since I had pulled out a clean towel for myself. If he's the freek, I'm the gross one. I don't know which is worse.

2. I am a little more possessive -- ok, selfish-- about my stuff and my space than I thought. I *ahem* haven't made much room for him in the closet. But only about 10% of his wardrobe needs ironing, whereas about half of mine does. Ok, maybe a third. Yes, his clothes are on the floor of the bedroom right now. In semi-organized piles. Yes, I am a jerk. But I have a plan and a day off, so things will change for him soon. And CN went to grab some pop tarts the other day, and I said, "Nonononononono!!! Those are for work day breakfasts only! It's one of the few things I can eat at my desk!!!" -- Seriously? I am telling this to my 30 year old boyfriend, who not only washed all 587 of his "dirty" towels, but also my dirty clothes? AND folded them? I am telling him that he can't have a pop tart? Was I even listening to myself?

3. Why. The. Fuck. Do. I. Have. So many. Damn. Shoes. Jesus tapdancing Christ, did they reproduce in the U-Haul on the way down here? I remember looking at my old closet and thinking, "Gosh, 70 pairs isn't really that many. I could totally get more shoes. I have collection gaps, definitely." And now, I want to chuck them ALL because I am sick and tired of trying to store them creatively.

Ok, I'm sure there are more things I could add to this list, but let's face it, my self-critiquing skills are not exactly well-honed. And this is my blog. I told him to get his own, where he can bitch about how messy I am and how I don't seem to understand that expiration dates on food are for safety, not gambling with food, or as I like to call them, "adventures in eating". But he doesn't listen.

Besides, now it's time for me to give you the Ghetto Update.

Last Sunday afternoon, I was at work. (Yes, now I get to work occassional Sundays. I don't want to talk about it.) CN calls me. He was looking out the back window of our place, where he saw a group of teenagers sitting on our back stoop. This would only be mildly irritating, because it's just some harmless trespassing, except for the simple fact they were PASSING AROUND A HANDGUN. Which was the reason he was calling me.

"That's it. We are moving out. It's final. This is the last straw," he said.

I agreed, but questioned why he was talking to me and not a local 911 emergency dispatcher.

"Oh. Cuz they left already," he said.

GAH.

And to add rainbow colored candy sprinkles to this ice cream sundae from hell that is our living situation, Sammy has been bringing home fleas from our walks. So this place is a ticking time bomb, probably full of cazillions of little jumping, biting fuckers, marinating in their little wicked egg cocoon pods, counting down the moment until they get to microscopically turn our bodies into Swiss cheese.

Must. Move. Soon. Please. Send. Help.

I'm Alive!

Alright, I'm sure I am now down to two readers, but that's what I get for being MIA for a month, right? Oh well. I was thinking about making this blog public again, anyway.

Let me try and summarize the last month:

My new job, like all jobs, has its good things and its bad things. I like my boss and the girl who works for me a LOT. They rock, actually. A lot of my coworkers are cool, too. Like everywhere, though, I have to deal with a couple of douchebags, like this one lazy guy who balks at helping anyone else out and Miss Passive Aggressive, who loves to come down to my office and imply that I am incompetent and/or inflexible with the schedule (this is because I will not make everyone else work around her schedule). Of course, she does this under the guise of being "concerned". Argh. If there is one type of person I don't get along with, it's passive aggressive types. That kind of behavior irks the crap out of me.

My department, which was at 75% capacity, has recently been reduced to 50% capacity with the resignation of this one girl who worked for me. I tell you what, though, she was good riddance. She did nothing but create more work for me an the other girl in my department. But her leaving means she and I have to do a LOT more work, so I will be slammed at work until further notice: working extra nights, extra Sundays, teaching extra classes....oh well. Hopefully we will find a replacement soon.

But that's all well and good. Normal stuff that is to be expected. What is really bizarre is how uber-controlling this school is. Maybe it's because I am used to working in the public sector, but I feel like I am a member of the Savannah Mafia or something. Actually, it's more like a Nazi regime. My first realization came when I had to deal with the Communications Dept. Now, I understand that the school wants to have an "image" and I completely grasp and support the notion of "branding". But to tell me that I cannot print out a flyer that would -- gasp! -- help students find something in the library because that's not the "look" they want in the library is pretty ridiculous. Last time I checked, it's pretty difficult to operate a library without any frigging signs or information for its users.

Now, this goes for everything. Signs, handouts, flyers, bookmarks we make -- everything has to get "approval" from about 3 people. Then it has to be designed by someone else (who has no idea how I need it to look in order for it to work). This process takes three weeks. If I'm lucky.

This is the same department who printed up my business cards and told me I had to pick them up at their office. The stupid part is that they are open the same times I am at work. So that meant I had to go pick them up on my lunch break. Fine. Whatever. Screw interoffice mail, right? So I spend half my lunch break walking over there, only to be informed that they have sent the cards to the library already, via interoffice mail. "Well, don't you think that as the Communications Department, you should have communicated that to me before I spent my lunch break walking all the way over here?" I said. The girl just stared back at me and blinked. I turned and walked out.

The IT department is just as bad. I am not allowed to download so much as a plugin on my computer without -- again -- getting approval and submitting forms. Heck, I can't even pick my own desktop background or screensaver. I have to use theirs. If I want Microsoft 2007 installed on my computer, I have to submit an approval form, get approved, then attend a mandatory 3 hour training session, and then they would install it on my computer. Are. You. Kidding. Me.

It took me 3 weeks to get a key to my office. Three weeks! It was just sitting around somewhere. All I had to do was sign for it. Sounds simple, right? Not really. It was held in a building so far away that I had to drive to it. And, as usual, the building was only open during the same times I have to be at work. So I had to scramble over there, the whole time wondering, "Why don't they just keep the library keys in the library, since that's where they are just going to be going to anyway??" I tell ya, the state agency I used to work for aint' got shit on the major inefficiencies going on at this private school.

I still haven't gotten my code for the photocopier (each person gets a personal code, which is odd to me, as it seems a departmental code would be sufficient) or my code for dialing long distance on my desk phone. This also is odd to me, as it's the type of phone which operates over an internet connection, so there is no such thing as a long distance number. I soon realized that this is because they want to know what numbers I am calling. Whoa.

But Big Brother goes far, far beyond my little long distance code. If you are a new employee, you are often put in touch with a particular real estate company -- they have some sort of a deal worked out. This seems like a potential conflict of interest to me. I have heard that they also have their fingers in other pies: with the police force, with city concil...

If you do a google search for my school, you will find absolutely nothing negative about it. Not a blog, not a news article, not a press release. Everything out there is positive. Don't you think that is kind of odd? Especially when the girl who had my job before me sued the school for firing her improperly? (I have yet to find out why this woman was fired. No one is giving me a legitimate answer. It sounds very fishy to me.) And the guy who used to have my boss's job was fired for stealing thousands of dollars worth of items from the library? Or that last week the president's husband, who is the CEO or something for the college, was brought up on embezzlement charges or something? And that there was a group of students who sued the school, too? How the hell is this stuff not reaching the press???

The only thing I have found that even hints at being negative is an interview between the local paper and the president of the school a couple years back. The reporter asks if she thinks the school has moved past all its problems in the early '90s. She doesn't want to talk about it. She just says she wants to focus on the future. I have no idea what all these problems were in the early '90s. Neither does anyone else -- almost everyone at my library is new. Apparently, when the last director was busted for stealing a bunch of shit, a lot of people went down with him. They bascially cleaned house. Only a couple of people made it out of the fray -- and one of them was demoted in the process. And of course, the old timers aren't saying a word about what really went down. So to say there's been a lot of turnover is putting it lightly. (And as you can imagine, makes everything that much more difficult for the new people -- we are all trying to fix departments that have been screwed up for some time.)

Anyway, that's a glimpse into the type of work environment I am dealing with. I'm sure there will be more. I will share with you then.

Let's talk about the rest of things in my life. I havent' been blogging, because I can't afford to have internet at my place, and let's face it: I would be pretty stupid to blog from work in this job. But CN is moving in very soon (the 2nd week of April!!), so we will get it then. Yay!

As far as my apartment goes....it sucks. I have very little storage and a lot of wasted square footage. Since the house is old, it doesn't heat or cool evenly, leaving me shivering on the couch most of the time. (MJ got me a snuggie, which rocks for this particular problem!) And since the windows are old, any noise made outside sounds like it is actually inside.

Which brings me to my neighborhood. Thus far, I have had to deal with the college kids next door who like to throw parties in their backyard. This would be totally fine with me if their backyard was not underneath my bedroom window and if they threw their parties on nights when I didn't have to go to work the next day. The morning of St. Patrick's Day (my only day off from work until further notice), I was awoken at 6:50am by firecrackers just outside my bedroom window. WTF. I got up, jerked up my window blinds, and scared the crap out of the college kid next door. I yelled, "Can you please stop that?!!!" He gave me a deer-in-headlights look and apologized profusely and then went inside. (Yes, I heard what he said. That's how much I can hear through these old windows.) He's lucky I didn't kick his ass for throwing a kegger in his backyard only 2 nights previously. On a Sunday night. I ended up sleeping in my bathroom that night -- it's the only quiet room in my place.

But this is child's play compared to the other stuff I have had to deal with. There have been fist fights in the street, drunk people yelling at all hours of the night, domestic violence disputes, all kinds of crazy and loud noises, lots and lots of sirens, a car chase, trash thrown in my yard and my own personal favorite: the gunshots in my backyard the other night. Yeah, my neighborhood is super fun.

I have to say, though, that the cops have a really great response time. It's impressive, actually. I know, because I peek out of my window blinds when stuff happens, and I dont' stop looking until a cop shows up. And when the cops arrive, it's not just one car. It's like, four. So that does make me feel a little bit better. But not much.

I do not go outside when the sun goes down. I might go to Target or something, but never late. and I definitely can't take walks or anything like that after it gets dark. That would be a really bad idea. Have you ever had to live like that? Let me tell you what, you feel like a prisoner. For the most part, I get home from work and do not go back outside until I leave for work the next day. It is stressful and boring and frustrating.

I know it all sounds negative, but I do love seeing all the beautiful buildings and I love walking to/from work. During the daytime, it's totally safe, even in my neighborhood. And most of my problems with my neighborhood have more to do with noise than safety. I am getting used to the noise, and the sound machine CN got me helps, too.

As soon as either CN or I can find a renter for our house(s), we are moving to a safer and quieter neighborhood. A house with enough room for both of us and storage for our stuff. And electrical outlets. (I have one outlet in my living room. It is a royal pain in the ass.) And a backyard, rather than an alley full of dirt and overflowing trashcans.

It is probably no surprise to you that I have been wondering if I made the right decision. But I think I will end up really liking my job and liking Savannah. I think that like some first dates, you just get off on the wrong foot. I've gotta give it a second chance. And that will take some time.

Thanks for reading, guys. I will hopefully be back to blogging on a more regular basis soon.

A Victory and a Mystery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And something else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded, staring at my feet and feeling ashamed.

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

But it is a pretty impressive turd.

Popping Up: Ring Talk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's in a Name??!

If you know me in real life, you know that I always have a project. Almost like a temporary hobby. It will stick around for a few weeks, and then I move on to something else. Every time, I either become bored with it or I find something new. It's like I'm OCD, but also ADD at the same time. Now, I don't know if that means there's something wrong with me, but it's definitely not out of the question.

Some of my former projects include: cake decorating, scrapbooking, learning anything and everything about NYC, home decorating, learning about the trucking industry, foreign languages...I could go on and on, but I won't bore you. I will be the first to admit that many of my projects are on the boring/geeky side. And my friends enjoy some projects more than others -- the cake decorating one was especially popular.

My current project? Genealogy. My training as a librarian comes in very handy for this. And I have learned that you can never really finish genealogy, because there's always another relative to look up. Which is probably why this is the 2nd or 3rd time I have tackled this project. This time around, I am even helping coworkers and friends look for their families online. It is super fun!!! (And yes, if you want me to see what I can dig up for you, just email me!)

It is also a genetically inherited interest, I believe. My dad, WLF, was also bitten by the "genie" bug. He actually researched both sides of his family, all the way back to our first immigrant ancestors to America. Which is pretty amazing, considering my first ancestor came over on the Mayflower. That's a lot of work! I remember when I was a kid, WLF and his sister went up to New York state to do research. Even as a kid, I thought it was so cool and wanted to go with them.

Eventually, WLF had the family trees written out and framed. They now hang in the basement at The Czarina's house. Every time I go to visit her, I stare at them. I wonder what these long-dead ancestors were like. Do I have their nose? Their sense of humor? If I could ever talk to them, what would I want to ask them? What amazing events had they witnessed? What would they think about the world today? (I guess even as an adult, I still have a kid's imagination and inquisitiveness!)

The Czarina, on the other hand, doesn't have much interest in all of this genealogy stuff. Maybe that's because her family just arrived in the United States in the mid-to-late 1800s. Her family tree is just so short and so simple -- 3 generations on each side, mostly Irish, with a generous glob of German thrown in. She pretty much already knows everything. Her father's side -- the Irish side-- is the part of my family I'm most interested in. We are pretty sure they fled the Potato Famine of the 1850s, but we've never been positive. Most of my time working on this "genie" stuff has been spent looking up info on Irish-American immigrants, or, as I like to call them, "my people". LOL. I'm even now trying to learn more about the history of Ireland so I can understand "my people" a little better. After all, I am genetically more Irish than anything else. (My dad was a total mutt!)

Although I do know a lot about both sides of my family, it's still fun for me to look things up. I like to see if I can find any undiscovered bits of information lurking out there in the old census records and other resources. What I have found is that it must be really easy to avoid the census takers, because there are entire branches of my family that are not even listed. I can't even find one of my grandfathers! This makes researching even more challenging and fun for me. I am determined to find stuff! So that's what I've been into lately.

What I want to share with you are some of the really weird, out-of-style, old-fashioned names in my family. Here is a list, drawn from both sides of my family:

Wilbur
Harold
Ephraim
Elijah
Ebenezer
Chastity
Prudence (can you tell I have some Puritanical roots? LOL)
Eulella
Euphemia (my whole family agrees this sounds more like a disease than a name!)
Gertrude (this name is VERY popular on my dad's side, for some reason)
Elmer
Mabel
Ida
Sylvester (UGH! horrible name!)
Arabella
Florence
Agnes
Cordelia

No offense to anyone with those names. I just think they are...unusual. I actually like some of them -- Arabella and Cordelia and Elijah are all fine by me. It's just interesting to see how names fall in/out of fashion. Sometimes WAY out. LOL

Of course, in my family we have a lot of perfectly normal, common names, too. Lots of Thomases, Josephs, Benjamins, Sarahs, Catherines, Marys, Pauls, Henrys, Jessies, Jameses and Marthas.

But it's no fun to talk about normal names! Let's talk about the weird ones! Do you have any unusual or old-fashioned names in your family? Share with me! I love learning about this stuff.

Faux Pas Over Faux Pearls

I was working at Dildo's the other night. So far, so good. I'm still getting used to my crammed schedule, but my coworkers are nice and the work is pretty fun. Until I can "prove" myself as a salesgirl, I am currently working in the accessories department, awaiting permission to move over to the Clinique counter.

Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.

Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.

The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,

"Can I ask, are you expecting?"

She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."

Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.

This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.

I am not.

I am not.

I am not.

FUCK. Am I?

*several blinks on my behalf*

*several blinks on her behalf*

We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.

Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.

"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.

"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.

"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.

"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.

"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.

Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.

I roll my eyes.

"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.

Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"

"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."

"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.

Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."

"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.

"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.

"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."

"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."

"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"

Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.

"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.

Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??

I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.

"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.

"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.

Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.

"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.

"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.

Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.

Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.

Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.

"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.

"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.

"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.

Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?

What's Wrong with This Picture?

I know I don't talk about work a whole lot on here, because I don't want to get dooced.

But this was too good not to share. And I am providing no identifying characteristics of the library where I work.

I would like to preface this post with the following: I like my coworkers. The vast majority of them are very pleasant and nice people. The lady I mention in this post is one of the pleasant and nice ones. So I'm going to try and not make fun of her on here today, because she's always been nice to me. But we have been laughing about the following all afternoon, because she really had a "D'oh!" moment. Here goes.

Ok, when you go to any library, sometimes things are on hold at the desk. These are called "reserves". Reserve items cannot leave the library, but they can be checked out for in-library use. A couple days ago, we had a teacher come in and ask us to place a book on reserve here at our library. She had just bought it, it was very expensive and she didn't want the students to take it home -- that way, all her students could use it. So categorizing this book as a reserve book made sense. The book was brand-new and came with little supplement booklets, and they are all shrink-wrapped together.

Now, in order to check anything out to students, books and other things need to be entered into our computer system so that we can keep track of them. Even reserve items need to be entered into the computer system. During this process, each item receives its own unique barcode, which is scanned any time someone uses it. That way, when someone checks it out, we scan the little barcode, and the computer knows who has it, when it's due, etc.

Well, this coworker of mine ended up putting this new book on reserve. These photos show what it looked like when she was done. Anyone see anything wrong with this picture????

The little red sticker says "Library Use Only". Can you see what's wrong yet?
Ok, this picture really shows you where she stuck the label for the class, so we will know which book the students need. (Oh! I just realized that is my arm in the photo!) See any problems now?
Finally, here is the barcode that needs to be scanned any time someone checks it out.....are you seeing why we are giggling about this? Yeah. We're hoping that maybe she was just distracted when she was labeling the book.......tee hee.
Maybe the students can use osmosis to learn what's in the book? Or perhaps only psychic students can use it? Or Superman? I guess they could always just use it as a paperweight.

Anyway, I want to see what happens when she goes to check it out to someone. I want to see what the student says. And I really want to see what she says when they bring it back to her!

Have a good weekend everyone.

Tales from the Clinique Counter

To pay off my gi-normous credit card debt, I am going to get a part time job.

Yesterday, as CN and I were running some errands, I decided to stop by the department store at the mall to see if there were any openings at the Clinique counter. When I was in grad school, I used to be a Clinique girl, and it wasn't too bad, as far as part time jobs are concerned.

Pros:
*tons of free makeup and perfume -- TONS
*you don't come home smelling like food
*if you are going out afterwards, it's easy to touch up your makeup before you go
*since the mall closes at 9, it's still early enough to meet up with friends afterwards
*you won't get blisters on your feet, cuts on your fingers, or mysterious goo on your body (can you tell I waited tables for a looooonnng time??)
* if you are on the clock, you are getting paid

Cons:
*you work 3 weekends a month
*you have to deal with the public
*you are not paid in cash
*department store managers tend to be...not the best bosses I've had in my life (more on this later)
*you will never make more than your base pay while you are on the clock (I am expecting to make $10/hour)

So I walked up to the lady at the Clinique counter (who may or may not technically be a midget, btw, as unusual as that sounds) and asked her about it. She seemed really excited about my inquiry and called over the head Clinique girl. She was even MORE excited than the almost-midget lady.

It turns out that they needed a PT person. And since I am already experienced in Clinique AND a former employee of the same chain of department stores, they all but guaranteed me the spot. I'm probably still in their system, actually, which will cut down on all that new employee paperwork! WOOT!

If I work 15 hours per week, I should make $600/month (before taxes). This will help out SO MUCH, considering I'm already putting about $300/month towards my credit card debt already. Yay!

And although I'm excited about the free makeup, I am dreading the downside: working with the public. Don't get me wrong -- the vast majority of people who come in are great. They are nice, easy to deal with and well-groomed. (See where I am going with this?)

But some of the people....well, I think some Tales from the Clinique Counter can explain this well:

1. One day, a totally drunk lady was roaming around the makeup area. On a Sunday. At noon. She was so plastered, I think the store called the police to have her escorted out. But that was after she verbally harassed half the cosmetics staff. And knocked over a bunch of stuff.

2. Some people who want makeovers surprise me, because they are kind of putting the carriage before the horse. Let's see. How do I put this? Um, if your unibrow weighs 4 pounds, or if you have acne that makes a pizza look like a clear complexion, or if you have a hairy chest*, you should deal with those issues before getting a makeover. Same can be said for body odor, chin hair and missing teeth (hey, I live in SC, remember). I know I sound snooty right now, but seriously, would YOU want to put makeup on a woman's hairy chest?? (Yeah, she wanted to see if we could "cover it up". It's like, "No, lady! We can't!") It's so crazy to me that these women will look in the mirror and think, "Yes, that's what I need. A new lipstick." WTF?!

3. Then there are the people who try to take advantage of the generous return policy. One girl came in 10 minutes before closing (WHY do these people always come in right before closing??) with a huge bag of stuff. I think it was over $200 worth of Clinique stuff. She wanted to return everything. Normally, this is no problem at all. But this girl was returning EMPTY containers she had originally bought a YEAR previously. (Even more incredulous was that she actually still had the receipt!) Because of the extreme absurdity of her return request (I believe I said, "Um, are you kidding me?"), I decided to consult a manager before approving it. But it turned out that we couldn't really say no to her -- she was technically within the limits of the return policy. She got all her money returned onto her credit card. Then, she stormed off in a huff because we couldn't return the money to her in cash!

4. Another lady used to take advantage of the neighboring Lancome counter. She would buy expensive perfumes and body lotions, only to take them home, use about half of the product, fill the bottle back up with water or cheap lotion, and exchange the items for brand new ones. Since they were "like new" to all outward appearances, no one caught on. They thought she just wanted to try a different perfume or lotion, or that she had purchased the wrong one by accident. She did this about 3 times before anyone caught on. After that, she wasn't allowed to make returns anymore!

5. Then, there were The Minivers. I can't remember what their last name was, but it sounds like Miniver. This was an elderly couple, who on first inspection, seem like your regular, cute grandparent-like couple. But don't let them fool you -- they will CAMP OUT at your makeup counter, making you demonstrate every single freaking product you sell. These are the same products you demonstrated to them the last time they came in, by the way. After each application on Mrs. Miniver, she and Mr. Miniver would discuss how it looked on her. This would take about 15 minutes per discussion. You will sit there and wonder why in the hell an 80 year old man gives a rat's ass which shade of eyeshadow looks better on his wife of 56 years. After they decide which products they will buy, they will end up spending about $300. But wait! Don't get too excited about that big sale, even if your manager does pat you on the back! Mrs. Miniver will arrive bright and early tomorrow morning to return everything she bought the day before. And then someone else will have to go through the whole thing again with her.

Imagine my excitement when I quit the Clinique job to take on a full time position at the public library.........only to discover that Mr. and Mrs. Miniver used that library. And drove everyone nuts there, too. There was about a 3 year period where I couldn't escape the Minivers!

Those are the main crazy makeup counter stories. If I think of more, I will share. And all apologies to any female readers with hairy chests. :)



*I wish I was making this up, but I'm not. Yes, the woman had a hairy chest. Like a man. And she decided to wear a low-cut top. It was a scary moment. One of the few times in my life I've literally been speechless. "Distracting" doesn't even begin to cover it.

Cruisin' Along

Unlike the last couple of posts, this one is actually interesting. I promise.

Ok, story time.

CN came over the other day while I was home for lunch. This was kind of unusual, so I knew something was up.

"Hey, babe. This is a pleasant surprise. What's up?" I said, greeting him with a quick peck.

"Ok, I was going to talk to you about this last night, but someone didn't answer their phone," he teased.

"Yeah, I fell asleep on the couch. I didn't hear it ring," I replied.

"Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to go on a cruise with me."

[Insert squeals of excitement and the Happy Dance here.]

It turns out that CN's friend L called the night before. L and his wife, C, are going on a cruise in April to the Bahamas, and they wanted to know if we would like to join them. CN wanted to check with me first before committing. (He received a lot of smack-talk from L about this. I believe the phrase "pussy-whipped" was used. LOL) Anyway, CN was worried that I might not be able to afford it ($400 is the cost) because I've been kind of broke lately. So he wanted to check first. But my squeals of excitement proved otherwise.

"OMG, I can totally do this! I know I can! It will totally motivate me to work on budgeting my money, because I really want to go and so I will save up for it!!!" I explained, excitedly.

"Ok, because if you don't have the $400, I am going without you," he replied.

"Ok, that's fine! But I'll get the money together. I promise. Besides, I know I am getting a nice tax refund this year, so I should be fine, anyway. EEK!!"

So, as of right now, I need to come up with at least $400 by April 10th. I am working on a savings budget right now. Yay!!

It will also motivate me to lose more weight before we go, so that I look better in a bikini.

WOO HOO!! I cannot wait! I have never been on a cruise before. Neither has CN. I have never been to the Caribbean, either. Neither has CN. So we are really looking forward to it. The ship will be in Jacksonville, FL and we will drive down to get to it. But so far, this is all I know. I don't know what cruise line it is, or what ship, or anything like that. All I know are the dates, the cost and the destination.

So if any of my readers have been on cruises or have been to the Bahamas, please tell me what to expect and any advice you can think of. I would really appreciate it!!! Does anyone know if we need to get passports?? Can anyone explain duty-free shopping to me? If I don't get motion-sick or air-sick, will I get seasick? How much spending money should I bring? It's a 4 day cruise.

Oh, I would also like to ask my female readers: I am thinking about getting a spray-on tan and a bikini wax for this trip. Are they worth it? Or should I pass? (Sorry if this is TMI!)

I will share more about the cruise as I learn more about it. In case you cannot tell, I am wholly obsessed with this news, so I doubt I will talk about anything else for a while! Bear with me. I'm easily entertained. LOL

Babies R (Not) Us

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

Until this weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. And babies," whispered CN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ugh. I am getting a headache just typing this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drama: A Sketchy Act

Last week, Butter, E and I were informed by Mrs. Chemical that she would be celebrating her birthday on Friday night. It was a girls-only event. Much to our bewilderment, we were invited. After a brief pow-wow via email, we decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and attend.

So we show up at Liberty's (a very popular bar/restaurant) to discover that we are the party, because she apparently doesn't have any other girlfriends willing to help her celebrate her birthday. She seems ecstatic to be having a girls' night, and we were all having a really good time. "Hmmm, maybe I was wrong about her," I thought.

Over dinner, she tells us the story of her and her husband. They have been together since high school, except for one year in college when they broke up. During this break, she briefly dated her best guy pal. She just found out inadvertently that he thinks she married the wrong man. She also asked us if we thought she was out of line for not liking the fact that he has just started dating a friend of hers. We had a lively debate about dating friends' exes, but that was it. Or so it seemed.

After dinner, we decided to go dancing. By this point, we are all being total goofballs and laughing hysterically and taking funny pictures. Mrs. Chemical runs into a coworker of hers (I will call her M) and she joins our group. The fun evening began to crumble when B called E to see when she wanted him to pick her up. For whatever reason, she took this as B keeping tabs on her and trying to give her a curfew, which rubbed her the wrong way. Matters were not helped when B told her to stop "acting like a bitch."

Needless to say, E was not in the best of moods for the rest of the night, and B spent the night alone. (They are fine now, but he was in the doghouse for most of the weekend!)

Soon after that phone call, Butter runs into a guy pal of hers. It's his bachelor party, so he and his friends are all having a really fun time, and they ask us to join them in VIP.

We are all enjoying ourselves until some random girl who happened to be in VIP started dancing with the groom-to-be. This is when the evening's drama really got started, and I began to get annoyed.

Butter and E immediately go over to this poor girl to inform her that he's engaged and about to get married. She blows them off and pooh-poohs their concerns, which only gets them more motivated to lecture her and scorn her behavior. Meanwhile, Mrs. Chemical and I are watching all of this, wondering what in the hell is going on. (We couldn't hear them, but we had a general idea of what was going on by the looks on everyone's faces.) The next thing we know, we are being kicked out of VIP by the bachelor party! I guess we were being cock blockers...

By this point in the evening, it was about 1:30am and everyone is fairly intoxicated. E is in one helluva mood, compounded by the fact that Butter ending up mooching off of her beer tab -- again. Butter is still going on and on about how wrong it was for that girl to grind on her "best guy friend". I point out that Butter has never so much as mentioned this guy to us before and that it's really none of our business. "For all we know," I said, "his fiance could have told him it is ok for him to do that tonight. I mean, at least he's not at a strip club, you know? If he's going to cheat on her, nothing we do or say can stop him. So what's the point of playing Relationship Police?"

For some reason, perhaps it was the alcohol in their systems, my opinion was deemed neither ethical nor logical. I had to listen to a chorus of "So if it was your fiance, you're saying you'd be ok with that?" I stated that I like to pick my battles and that I would never marry a guy who would do something that would upset me. I would never be with a guy I couldn't trust. They just shook their heads at me and continued ranting about the nerve of the girl in the dance club.

At this point in the evening, I am just glad that we are all going home. I was starting to see why Mrs. Chemical didn't have a lot of girlfriends.

So we are walking back to Mrs. Chemical's car. She is going to drop us off at my car so we can go home. Suddenly, she turns around and says to us, "Ok, you guys, I'm going to drop you off at Virginia's car and then go meet up with someone. If anyone asks, tell them I'm hanging out with M, ok?"

I am dumbfounded. Did she just ask us to lie for her??
E, the smart little thing, plays dumb and asks her if we can go too.

"No, you can't. I'm sorry. I know what you're thinking, and that's not it. I promise that it's not. Just tell whoever asks that I'm with M, ok?"

E and I looked at each other.

I said nothing. I have a strict policy that I do not lie for other people. Heck, I don't even lie for myself, because I'm a terrible liar. E and Butter agreed to it, and we continued on down the street. Mrs. Chemical drops us off, and we get into my car.

"Ohmygod, she's cheating on her husband!!" Butter mumbles as we get into my car.
"Let's follow her!" I shout.

We saw her turn down an alley near a lesbian bar before driving away. After being initially shocked at the thought of her lying about going to a lesbian bar, I decided to calm down and assume nothing. There were other bars near there, too. Maybe she was just looking for parking. I mean, she probably knew we would follow her. There was enough drama going around already without me adding fuel to the fire. E and Butter were not familiar with that alleyway -- they didn't know about the lesbian bar. So I stayed mum about my observation.

I stated that we really could not follow her, so we continued on our way. For the first half of the ride home, we tried to figure out what on Earth just happened. I noted that she had been texting with someone all evening. E was amazed that she would ask friends of her husband to lie for her. I was shocked at how trusting she was, considering we hardly knew her. Butter was convinced she was cheating on her husband with the guy she had mentioned at dinner.

I still can't figure it out, though. She didn't have to tell us anything. I mean, just drop us off and go about your merry way. Why bring us into it? It kind of made me angry to be involved in the whole thing. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt on this one, but I just couldn't. None of it added up. Why would you blackmail yourself? Why would you unnecessarily bring a third party in on your big secret? What could you possibly have to hide from your husband?

And no, it's not drugs. She's a nurse and would lose her license/job if she tested positive. So we are pretty sure that's not it. Without any solid answers, our conversation went back to the other drama of the evening: E's boyfriend troubles.

E rehashed it with the two of us, and we offered our opinions. I don't think B was trying to give her a curfew. I think it must have just come out wrong. But I also think he was way out of line telling her she was acting like a bitch. You don't use the "b" word, you know? Anyway, eventually Butter started complaining about Country Boy. Her complaints about him are always a bunch of crap, and this time was no different: she felt he didn't know her on a "deeper" level. Well, whose fault is that??? Ugh. I'd had it. Both of these guys worship their girlfriends. Country Boy drives an hour and a half just to SEE Butter. B and E have already gone engagement ring shopping, for Pete's sake. And here they are, nitpicking them to death over a bunch of bullshit! Aaaargh.

"Well," I said to them as they were bitching about their boyfriends simultaneously, "have you talked to him about it?"

"YESS!!!" they replied in chorus.

"So, if you've talked to them, and they aren't changing, then DUMP THEM!! I mean, this is RIDICULOUS!!! They are crazy about you guys, and you're bitching about stupid stuff! Just like that poor girl at the bar! She didn't know! Stop being Relationship Police! Pick your freaking battles!!!" I shouted.

The car got quiet. I breathed a sigh of relief. FINALLY, they shut the hell up!!! We drove the rest of the way in silence. Sometimes, losing your temper can pay off.

We got home and sat outside and talked some more. Butter bummed cigarettes from E. Even I was beginning to get annoyed by her mooching at this point. I was about to just say goodnight and hit the hay when Country Boy came over to pick Butter up. He told E that B was upset for what he said and that he apologized. He also told E that she misunderstood B's phone call. I could tell E was not quite as angry as she had been earlier. Whew.

We began to give Country Boy a re-cap of our evening when Mr. Chemical called him. Here is how the conversation went between the two men:

Mr. C: Hey, are you over at Virginia's house with the girls?
CB: Yeah, but Mrs. C isn't here.
Mr. C: Well, where is she?
CB: [to us] Hey, where's Mrs. C?
Butter & E: She stayed out with M.
CB: [to Mr. C] They said she stayed out with M.
Mr. C: Oh, man! That means she'll be out all night!

CB got off the phone and repeated that to us. E and I looked at each other. I felt a twinge of guilt, followed by resentment towards Mrs. Chemical. And I haven't been able to get that line out my head since: Oh man! That means she'll be out all night!

Grrrr. Thank goodness the rest of my weekend was 100% drama-free. I'll give you the CN update tomorrow. Until then, I need some advice and opinions about all of this! Was I out of line with what I said to Butter and E? And is it ok for a random girl to dance with a guy who's about to get married? I feel pretty strongly about my opinions, but maybe I'm wrong.

But most importantly, what should I do about Mrs. Chemical's secret?? At this point, I don't think I want to hang out with her anymore. I don't like meddling in other people's business, but if she's cheating on her husband, that's kind of a big deal, right? What else could she possibly be doing that she would need to lie about?

Fun Friday!

I found some interesting websites this week....kind of weird ones...

You know what you believe in, right? Well, if you've ever wondered what religion most closely matches your beliefs, you may want to check out the Belief-o-Matic. (I am supposed to be an Orthodox Quaker, apparently....who knew???)

When you're sick, do you ever wonder if you've "caught that bug that's going around"? Ever wonder how many other people nearby also called in sick that day? Or are you just sick and stuck at home, bored? Check out Who Is Sick.

Are you one of those people who likes to make up words? Then check out Verbotomy. Every day there is a new challenge, where you read the definition and create a verb for it. Or, browse the archives of made-up words that aren't in the dictionary, but probably should be.

Ok, I don't know how to describe this music site, but it's one part online radio station, one part Pandora (which is also a cool site, btw). Only you can tell it what kind of mood you're in, and it will play appropriate songs. Did I mention you can limit it to decade? Or genre? Or that every song has a direct link to Amazon, in case you want to buy the album? Or that the site is free and full of pretty colors??? You don't even have to do one of those stupid registrations for username/passwords!! It's wicked cool! I love Musicovery!!!! (As I am typing this, I am enjoying Prince's "1999".)

Last but not least....I was tempted to devote an entire blog post just to this site, because I bet all of your comments will be discussing this one:

Do you have a young, virginal daughter you'd like to marry off to the highest bidder, preferably before she discovers high school boys? Then you need to submit her profile and price on Marry Our Daughter. I wish I were kidding, folks, but I think this site is legit. There are some effed up people out there, huh? Make sure you read the "testimonials" -- they are SO wrong.... [Note: This site has server problems, I think. Just hit your refresh button until the site pops up.]

Have a great weekend, everyone!!!

Peacocking

Last night was Episode #2 of my new favorite show, VH1's The Pick-Up Artist. (Yesterday's post covers the basic concept behind the show and provides links, if you are playing catch-up.)

For this episode, all the guys were first challenged to get make-overs. They were instructed to try and "peacock", meaning they had to try and dress outlandishly. According to the PUA method, this is important for attracting women's attention. In theory, the crazier you look, the more attention you will receive. Your goal is to stand out from the crowd. Which is funny, because there were recurring themes in this effort to be unique. Here's what I observed:

1. Lots of hair-dying and trendy haircuts.
2. piercings
3. tighter pants
4. entirely too many accessories
5. black painted nails
6. hats
7. funky jackets

What was funny to me was that for the most part, the guys all came out in outfits similar to Mystery's and the other judges' outfits. So....how is that standing out? They basically still all looked the same. Only now they just looked like PUAs. Any girl who watches the show will be able to spot imitators instantly -- they are the ones with the tight pants and fur-lined coat on.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying all guys are great dressers who never need makeovers. Lord knows I am SO SICK AND TIRED of seeing the Southern Guy "uniform"* I'm about to scream. So the occasional fedora or green shoes is refreshing, I have to say. And I'm all for bringing tighter pants back! WOOT!

I personally wish guys would wear tuxedos when they go out, but that's just me...

Most girls like a guy who is fashionably aware. Most girls are not totally against a guy dyeing his hair or putting gauges in his ears. Some girls are probably not against a guy wearing goggles. But some girls are. (Remember, every girl is different!) So I fail to see how this will be a fail-proof method of attracting women. Mystery, according to his interview with Conan O'Brien (see last post), claims that if a girl tells him she doesn't like what he's wearing, he will zip back at her, "Oh yes you do! Otherwise you wouldn't have said that." -- I beg to differ. If you are wearing a crazy outfit, and a girl is telling you she doesn't like it, she means just that. It was probably code for, "Ew. Go away. You're weird."

If all guys start dressing like Mystery, then every guy will eventually look the same. They'll all look like Mystery.

I like a little variety, is all I'm saying. So guys, my advice to you would be this: If you have been wearing the same clothing style since high school, wear the SAME outfit every day or if you dress EXACTLY like all of your friends, it might be time to make some small changes. Do what girls do: hit the mall, see what's new. Talk to a trusted female pal or your sister to see what she thinks. Look at a couple of current fashion magazines. Try a slightly different hairdo. Guys have so many facial hair options these days. Live a little! Don't be afraid of hats or shoes. Buy the stuff you can see yourself wearing. If you feel weird wearing it, that will come across when you're trying to talk to a girl in a bar. Feeling comfortable (ie, like yourself) in your outfit is obviously #1. But there is something to be said for the confidence you can acquire from knowing you look fashionable. So I would encourage guys to try small changes. Girls do notice a guy who looks nice. And we REALLY notice it when your pants show off your cute little butt. ;)

But don't overdo it. Looking like a caricature or a rock star will make you seem like you're trying too hard to be cool. Piling on the jewelry and scarves (yes, I said scarves) and sporting a spiky hairdo which makes you look more like Sonic the Hedgehog than Ryan Cabrera can be overkill. Actually, on second thought, Ryan Cabrera looks like an idiot with his hair like that. But you know what I'm saying. Again, I say to you, look at fashion mags and talk to gal pals. That's why they exist.

I didn't like that the show assumed all of the contestants needed makeovers. Most of the guys were actually good dressers already: they were unique, not afraid of color, fairly contemporary and wearing things which looked good on them. Really, there were only 2 or 3 I thought needed help in the wardrobe department. So why were they all forced to dress so theatrically? I mean, let's be honest, here. These guys don't live in Manhattan or LA. They are from Portland, Oregon or Fort Wayne, Indiana. Dressing like Mystery in these small, American cities will make them look like total freaks! How will being a one-man freak show boost their confidence and self-esteem? I think the judges should keep in mind what sorts of people and places their contestants are dealing with in real life. Girls in these towns are not going to find a guy with a green mohawk or a fur coat to be desirable or fashionable. It's just not going to happen. Unless she's 16 and wants to get back at her parents by freaking them out. It's better for the guy to stick to what's being sold currently in Banana Republic or Gap, to be honest.

Although it's nice to talk to a guy who knows how to dress, I can assure you it's FAR FAR more important to a woman that you come off as interesting, confident and funny. What comes out of your mouth outweighs anything you can wear. As long as you don't look like Urkel or wear something super sloppy or dirty, you're probably ok. And of course, the reverse is also true: if you are the best dressed guy in the room, but you come off as a cocky asshole, a total idiot or totally insecure, you're in the same boat. Good dressing can get you some bonus points, but really, it's a much more minor deal to women. We know you'll let us dress you later on, anyway. It's kind of moot to us.

Hmmm...here's a theory. Is it safe to say that if you want a girl who is a trendy dresser, you should, in turn, dress in more current styles? I'm sure there are guys who don't give a rat's ass what a girl wears--they just want to know when the clothes are coming off. So is it necessary for them to try and be fashionable men? Hmmm. I have to chew on that for a while. What do you think? Does dressing fashionably only apply to guys who want to attract fashionable women? Do guys even notice if a girl is "fashionable"? Or do they only notice if she is half naked or dresses like their mom? Do guys care if a girl dresses in a unique way? Or is it enough to just look like other girls? To be honest, I don't even know if men are aware of women's fashions at all. I need feedback from my male readers on this one. I hadn't really thought about it. I guess girls tend to dress for other girls....and I always assumed that the only "fashion" guys cared about was how much flesh I was exposing or how tight the jeans are. Am I wrong?

The only reason I say all this is because there's this one guy on the show who is just......oh, GAWD he is a total geek!! Seriously, I think this guy is a lost cause. And he did the whole makeover, complete with blue hair streak (which, I personally thought was both totally out-of-style and stupid looking). But he still reeked of geekiness. And all I could think was, "You can take the guy out of the geek, but you can't take the geek out of the guy!" Because he was JUST as nerdy as he was pre-makeover. He even referred to himself as "Scott 2.0" or something. I groaned. Did he need a makeover? Well, to be honest, hell yeah he did! He looked like Poindexter. Did it work? Not one bit.

You see, the thing about the makeover is this: it's not just making over the outside. To be successful, it has to boost confidence and make the guy feel like a more improved version of himself. Someone who feels worthy of a better life than what he had before, because he's not that "old self" anymore. For most of the guys on the show, you could see a difference in their confidence and attitudes after their makeovers. As for the rest of the guys...you could see they felt uncomfortable. I don't know if it was too much change all at once or if they were just too set in their ways. But their makeovers just didn't....click. They behaved the same way and looked at themselves in the same way. Only, in addition, they looked uncomfortable.

Which led me to think, "This hasn't improved his chances ONE BIT." And if so, then the very pretty coeds in the bars were STILL going to shoot him down. He's just a geek in a cuter outfit. So is he trying to date out of his league? Or the bar scene just an extremely unnatural setting for a supergeek? Perhaps he should be using the PUA method in a comic book store or a Renaissance festival??? (No offense to my comic book or medieval festival readers -- I think having a little geek in you is both desirable and normal.) Is the show just creating unnatural situations, setting up the supergeeks to fail miserably for entertainments' sake? Is the problem in the guy or the situation? Is this show giving the supergeek skills he will actually use when he goes home? Or is their point that any guy can learn how to pick up a gorgeous 21 year old in a downtown bar?

Because the last time I went to a bar, I didn't see any supergeeks. Maybe they were disguised as PUAs.....

* Southern Guy uniform: horizontally-striped polo, khakis or cargo shorts, flip flops, croakies, usually a baseball hat. Sometimes a pastel tie, sometimes seersucker. Usually boring. I am not exaggerating when I say that 98% of guys wear this outfit when they go out here. *yawn* I mean, it's fine, it's just...overdone. They can check "Preppy J. Crew" off their lists already. Sheesh.

I Can't Take It Anymore!

Dear readers, I am apologizing in advance for this post. If you've ever wanted to skip one of my posts, this is the time to do so. This post is total crap. I have been bored stupid all day, I got no sleep last night and I have been reading blogs almost the whole day (not that your blog is boring!), and my brain is FULL of thoughts, post ideas and expansions on comments I've been sprinkling all over the blogosphere. It's causing me to have yet another Conversation with My Brain.

"Ooh! That post you just read brings up that time from your childhood when The Czarina..." says ADD. [She sounds a little like the Band Camp Girl from American Pie. Can you tell?]

"Yes, but--" interrupts The Responsible Blog Writer.

"Omigod! We should blog about this! Right now! Log in, quick!" says ADD, giddily.

"Stoppit! That's not enough for a whole post! Keep it to yourself for now. Let it marinate for a bit, and one day, you'll be able to write a whole post about it. Something timely, concise and well-constructed. Wait for it to happen naturally!" continues The Responsible Blog Writer.

[whining like a 4 year old] "But...I'll forgeeeeeeeeeeeet! We have to type it nooooooooow!" laments ADD. She stomps her feet in indignation.

"Your posts practically give people motion sickness, what with all your randomness. Can you focus the post this time? Or is it going to be another one of your 'organized' lists of total and sheer absurdity?" asks The Responsible Blog Writer, sneeringly.

"It will be good, I promise!!!!" exclaims ADD, her eyes growing large and pleading. She folds her hands together, almost as if praying.

"Ok, fine. You lucked out, because I'm exhausted today. I don't have the energy to argue with you." sighed The Responsible Blog Writer.

"Is that because you stayed up late, kissing that guy?" asks ADD.

"Yeah! And it was awesome!" blurts Horny.

"Shhhhh! Don't kiss and tell! You've got to stop doing that!" hisses Single Girl.

"But that's all the fun," says Pervert, with a confused expression on his face.

"Can I start now? Pleeeeaaaase?" begs ADD.

"Yes, please, before The Readers start asking you about this guy and more nosy questions about your underwear!" says Single Girl.

ADD's Random Thoughts of the Day

1. I need help with this, readers. I need your advice. I try and read all the blogs I can (if you have ever left a comment on my blog, you're on my list of blogs! I'm at about 100), but sometimes I am woefully behind. Sometimes, I get so behind, I'm too mortified to even come back and catch up. I don't want to be a slave to blog reading (I am a real person with a real life), but I also don't want to offend by taking more than I give. Or whatever. You know what I mean. I feel an absurd amount of guilt over this. Thoughts on this? Opinions? Tips for me? WHAT DO I DO???

2. Teahouse Blossom is engaged and is trying hard not to be a Bridezilla. [insert standing ovation here.] I have been thinking that it's weird how nowadays, people seem to put more effort and time into having the perfect wedding than they do making sure they're marrying the right spouse. Seems kind of silly, huh? I have an engaged couple in mind, actually, as I type this. They have no business getting married. It will be one of those weddings where people will secretly whisper jokes about taking bets for when the divorce will happen. (Ok, I know it's no laughing matter...) And their friends are powerless to do anything, for fear of ruining the friendship. Man, I hope I'm never a member of a couple like that.....

3. The Czarina thinks I am going to be wearing her wedding dress when (if?) I get married. Little does she know that I think her wedding photos look like a lace factory barfed all over her. Then, after the lace-barf dried and stuck to her skin, the Industrial-Strength Rubberband Ninja attacked her, clamping her at the neck and wrists, ensuring that the lace-barf will not only cover every inch of her body, but it will also cling to her all day. I can't tell her about the lace-barf, because it will break her heart. She thinks the dress is gorgeous. *gags*

4. Aside from eloping, my only solution to this problem is to try and gain lots of weight the second I'm engaged, thereby rendering the dress uselessly too small. Sweet! Except that I don't want to be Fat Bride VB. It's not like I can tape a sign on my ass as I walk down the aisle that reads: "I only gained all this weight so I wouldn't have to wear the lace-barf dress. I hope you understand. Please try and take all photos from a flattering angle. Thank you."

5. Of course, I could try and alter my grandmother's dress. It's a 1940s pale blue satin dress--MUCH more my style. The gigantic shoulder pads and long sleeves will have to go. And somehow, I will have to shrink 4 inches (The Czarina's mother was a short, bosomy German spark plug of a woman)....oh dear. Maybe I can add some sort of trim to the bottom? Or insert a panel in the waist, thereby making the skirt longer? Ugh. Why in Holy Hell am I even talking about this??

6. I have recently learned about Couch Surfing. If this doesn't show the kindness of strangers, I don't know what does. It's incredible to me, sometimes, how much we CAN still trust strangers.

7. What is my favorite thing about blogging? Reading other people's blogs. It is the box 'o chocolates of the Internet. You never know what people will write about! Today I read posts on dogfighting, snot, burying ashes of loved ones and arguments with neighbors. I even got a potato soup recipe. I love it! We are all out there, interpreting our worlds, sharing our experiences and exposing our humanity for all to see. *sigh*

[Apparently, Cynical has the day off. In her place is Idealistic, a part-time Voice who fills in from time to time. She keeps applying for a full time position, but the other Voices cannot stand her touchy-feeliness, and unanimously veto all plans to adopt her into their collective existence.]

8. Do you believe in the Law of Threes? It's that little adage which states that good things and bad things happen in sets of three. I'm starting to think I do. Then again, I'm kind of superstitious. In the last 24 hours, look at what has happened to me: I got an unexpected check in the mail (WOOT!!!), E said she is seriously considering moving in with me and Netflix announced that it's lowering my subscription rates. Ok, I know it's kind of weak, but funny how suddenly the Universe wants to see my bank account do a little better. Unfortunately, now I'm worried that three bad things will happen to me tomorrow....

9. This past weekend, MJ and I saw a foreign film. (Why are people always so surprised to learn that I like "artsy" and "foreign" films?? Jeez, am I that vanilla? I do like culture, people!) Anyway, it was a French film called Private Fears in Public Places. After the movie, we discussed our reactions to the movie and hypothesized about its meaning and message. I think it's about the problems which can result from hiding your true self to others. But I'm sure there are many other interpretations. The acting is very good, and it's set in Paris, so if you're interested in a thought-provoking movie....

~~~~~~~
There. I feel better now. Thank you for letting me ramble and go all over the place. *breathes sigh of relief.* All that stuff was just up in my brain, accumulating. Had to get it out.

What is wrong with me today? I am a crackhead. I am so sorry. I need sleep. Also, I have medicine head, thanks to my sinus infection.