Another Successful Interaction With a Man

Long-term readers of my blog are familiar with my verbosity, but I have a treat for anyone out there who might prefer that I include more visual aids to my posts. Today I have not one but 2 videos to illustrate this post.

This one explains where I got the title for the post.


Allow me to explain why I can relate to this clip so much.

I should have seen it coming. That was stupid of me. After what he did on New Year's Eve, I knew in the back of my head he'd do something again. But after two months of blissful dating, I let my guard down. And I paid for it.

For the first two months of this year, I was floating on air. MM was great! He was super into me, we really clicked, he was a great kisser and really fun to be around. He even wanted to be my Valentine and took me out to a really nice restaurant. I bragged to my mom about how how he always turned his cell phone off when he was with me and was always wholly focused on me when he was with me.

The thing was, something about him made me not trust him. Yes, the NYE stunt was part of that. But eventually I began to realize that
A) He was a little too good to be true. Any guy that seems to always tell you what you want to hear is bad news bears, in my experience. He seemed to look for reasons to tell me I was doing something "hot". Last time I checked, a girl watching football isn't "hot". She's just watching football. I think he was just trying to butter me up. He would text me during working hours, telling me he can't stop thinking about me. He told me that seeing me once a week was not enough and he definitely could see me every day. He would talk about taking vacations several months from now and "if we're still together, you're definitely coming with me!" Like an idiot, I lapped all this up like a hungry little puppy. This was my reward for being so forgiving after the NYE let down! This guy was all about me! Thank goodness I was open to giving him a second chance. He was obviously worth it. *mental pat on the back*

and the other thing bugging me, waaay in the back of my mind was....

B) I was not in any way, shape or form, being included in his life. After 2 months of dating, I had yet to meet any of his friends or anyone who knew him at all. And based on a phone conversation with his sister that I overheard, I could tell she didn't even know I existed. I was sitting right next to him when he said he was "just hanging out with a friend". Apparently, despite the fact that he'd seen me with some of my clothing removed and we made out all the time, I still only qualified as a friend. WTF.

Now, I am not a pushy kind of girl when it comes to dating. I am fairly patient with all the various stages of dating. But after 2 months, you don't feel the need to introduce me to anyone you know? Or at least tell people you're seeing someone? I was starting to feel like a secret. For all I knew, he could have some other girl or a girlfriend or who knows what else?! It began to bother me. I could wait on meeting family, but I can't even meet your 2 best guy friends? We can't even double date with them and their girlfriends? Your sister can't even know you're dating someone?

About a month ago, we went to Williamsburg and went to the outlet malls there. I was flattered that he decided to spend his whole day off with me. And you don't drive an hour out of town to spend the day shopping with someone if you don't really like them. I mean, this is something that couples do! We were definitely on the way to being a couple. I could feel it.

But he acted a little funny that day. He seemed really self-absorbed and preoccupied. For the first time, he was on his phone when he was with me. Something crazy at work. But what bothered me the most, I think, was that he was not affectionate with me at all. Come to think of it, he had never been publicly affectionate with me! I started to get annoyed after realizing all of this on the way home. I had made dinner, so he came over to eat with me, and we talked. I dropped a hint about feeling like a secret and wanting to meet his friends. He said that would be fun and we could do it on Saturday. Whew! That's a relief. See, it just hadn't occurred to him yet, that's all. He stayed at my house as late as he possibly could that night (yes, there was serious making-out -- I told you he's an excellent kisser!), and then kissed me good-bye and told me he hoped I would have a good day the next day. All perfectly normal.

I didn't hear from him the next day (a Tuesday), which was normal and fine. But by Thursday night, I was feeling anxious. I texted him. Turns out, he was sick. Ah, yes, of course. No worries. I asked him if he needed anything and he said no. I told him I hope he feels better and went to bed. The next day, I asked how he was feeling. He said he was better, but would probably have to work all weekend to make up some stuff from work. Guess that means hanging out with his friends on Saturday was out of the question. He said that was probably true, but he might be able to finish in time to still go out.

I didn't hear from him on Saturday. On Sunday morning, I log into facebook, and find that his buddies have posted all these pics of them hanging out together the night before. I was crushed.

After moping around most of the weekend, I went into work the next Monday. It also happened to be my birthday. MM texted me to ask how my weekend was. Seriously??! Why do men pull shit like this and then act like nothing is wrong? Do they think that a woman has the memory of a goldfish?

"Well, I'm having a good birthday so far," I replied.
"Oh, I'm such a bonehead! It is your birthday!" he replied.
Yes. It is my fucking birthday, you piece of shit. You are definitely a bonehead, I thought.
I didn't reply.
A few seconds later, he texted me again: "Did you defriend me on FB?"
"Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again," I replied.
He claimed to be shocked and confused, despite the fact that he had blown me off for a week. He said he didn't want to have this conversation on my birthday and that he'd call me later in the week. Fine. Whatever.

Two days later, he called and apologized, but the conversation was definitely tense. I was still pretty pissed off and hurt. We caught up briefly and he said he'd call me again later. And that was the last I've heard of him. Which brings me to video #2, an awesome song I just discovered (sorry, I'm probably the last person on Earth to discover this song, so bear with me!) -- this song pretty much captures exactly how I felt at the time:


Considering I am 33 and this is the first guy I have dated (heck, the first guy I have WANTED to date) in 2 and a half years, it was kind of a blow to me, I'm not gonna lie. I'm just now feeling like I am over him and it took me several tries to write this post. I've been running. A lot. I think I've lost about 10 pounds, actually. But I digress.

I'm just so mad at myself. I broke all my own rules:
1. Don't date a guy who is ok with disappointing you
2. Don't date a guy who makes you cry
3. Wait, wait, wait and wait some more to get nekkid with a guy. At least until you have girlfriend status and have met some of his friends.
4. If a guy tells you everything you want to hear, it's because he's blowing smoke up your ass and it's coming out through your empty, idiot head and into your ears.
5. Listen to your gut. My gut said, "Don't date him, you will regret it." I chose to ignore this particular loud-and-clear gut warning. Dumb, VB. Very dumb.

The part that hurt the most was the disappearing act. Right around my fricking birthday. At the age of 34, you'd think a guy could grow a pair and break things off quickly, honestly and humanely. But no. He pulled a stunt that no one had pulled on me since I was in my early 20s. When I realized this, that's when it all started to make sense: As a recent divorcee, he is starting to date again after being off the market for approximately 7 years. So emotionally, he's a frat boy. Which is why he basically hit it and quit it. I'm just one in what will probably be a long line of new toys for this boy. (Like the rhyming? Cuz I can keep going. No? Alright.) Glad I can be of service in helping you get over the fact that your ex-wife left you. I'm here to please. No really. My feelings don't matter. Just do whatever you want to me. Because I have s-u-c-k-e-r written in Sharpie, right across my forehead, apparently.

But let's talk about possible reasons his wife may have left him, shall we? Because this list made me feel waaaaaaay better once I put it together.
1. bad credit
2. baggage. Baggage for days and days. And I'm not just referring to his 2 kids and ex-wife. (I actually don't mind the kids, just for the record.)
3. beer gut (normally I don't mind that, but he should really hit the gym)
4. possible binge drinker (based strictly on his own descriptions of fb photos)
5. Well, I can't really put it any better than Lily Allen, so here's a song you can listen to which describes many of the things I am too nice to spell out directly to you. *ahem*

After my moping phase was done, I got to the point where I had to decide the extent to which I wanted him erased from my life. FB was already taken care of, thankfully, so I would be prevented from stalking. Then, I got a new phone, so all my old text message conversations are all gone. But do I delete the number, exposing myself to a surprise call from an unrecognizable number? Or do I keep it there, as a depressing reminder of yet another failed relationship, so at least if he calls, I will know not to answer? I could fight off the temptation if he ever called. At least I wouldn't get caught off guard.

Wait.

I had a better idea. I thought of a way to make sure I would not want to answer the phone if he called. I wouldn't want to answer because I would change his name into something that would remind me of why I have no interest in ever talking to him again. A genius moment, for sure. Every time I think about it, I grin like a fat kid at Baskin Robbins. I'll delete it entirely one day, but for now, I will enjoy the daydream of seeing his new name come up on my phone.

Tiny Penis.

New Year's Peeve

Greetings from Virginia! I will fill you in on my new life here later, with details about The Most Frustrating and Neverending Move Ever in the History of Relocations, The Magical Weight Loss Phenomenon and The Vague Job with Unavailable Boss (Through No Fault of Her Own). All you need to know at this moment is that

A) I love Richmond already.
B) My love life has already gone to shit, if you can believe it. Luckily, this has not impacted A (see above). Yet.

You may have noticed that it is almost 9pm on New Year's Eve. And I am blogging. In my jammies. Alone. What, did you think things would be different, now that I am out of horrible Savannah? That just because I am closer to my family and finally back where I feel at home that my romantic endeavors would be any different than they always have been? Or perhaps it's because last year's NYE was absolutely amazingly fun and awesome? Oh, my little naive readers. You know I can't let this year end without yet another crash-and-burn tale from my dating life, or lack thereof. Although I got down to the wire, I did manage to squeeze one final story into 2011 for you.

2011 started with a great dating story and it will end with another. Ok, I guess last year's NYE wasn't totally amazing and fun by the time it was over. But it most certainly started off that way, and it was a helluva lot better than the way this one is shaping up. Let me explain.

Thanks to the intervention of several friends and/or relatives, I was talked into (read: dragged kicking and screaming) signing up for eHarmony (emphasis on "harm") late last summer. Since you pay for it 3 months' at a time, I had completely forgotten that it would automatically renew itself, so after 3 months of guys who didn't even sound good on paper, I got to -- surprise! -- get automatically charged for another 3 months' of depressing dating prospects! Well, by the time I realized that this had happened, I was in the midst of leaving Savannah to move to Richmond. And they don't do refunds. So I had another 3 months' worth of prepaid virtual dating to burn through. Ever the Pollyanna/mental nimrod/glutton for punishment that I am when it comes to dating, I decided I would just update my eHarmony profile to list Richmond as my location and keep on trying. I am new in town. What else was I going to do with my free time?

Well, I was very pleasantly surprised, let me tell you. Not only were the men better looking in Richmond, but they were better educated, too, with more interesting jobs. Gone were the Savannah hipster bartenders who looked like they don't bathe and the desperate-for-any-female military men. (I do support our men in uniform, heck, my brother is a vet for pete's sake, but what is with their desperation to get girlfriends? It is seriously freaky. I wish they would work on that, collectively.) The guys in Richmond seem...pretty great, actually! Woo hoo!

There were a few that seemed pretty good, but one stood out above the rest. MM was just the right age, looked like he knew how to have a good time and was pretty good looking. I had looked at his profile about 3 times before I realized that in this one photo, there was a kid. He looked so good in the photo, I literally didn't even see the kid, who turns out to be one of his daughters. Yes, he has 2 daughters and an ex-wife. That's a decent amount of baggage, but I like kids and I am trying to be more open minded about stuff like that. I haven't been dating much lately (read: at all...for 2 years....). I just wanted someone who seemed like fun. So we started emailing, which progressed to texting.

He was great! He was flirtatious, funny and seemed interested in me. He asked me out and we booked a date. We were going to meet for dinner in The Fan, which is the old home/cool boutiques/best restaurants area of Richmond. I was pretty stoked. It was my first date in *ahem* over 2 years (except for the blind date where I was a cougar and we didn't really hit it off anyway, so I am not even going to link to that post). I had an outfit picked out and was kind of excited to do some in-person flirting with MM.

That is, until he canceled on me the day before. Something about work being really crazy and he had to work late on the night of our date. Ok, well, everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, I thought. It's the holidays, and everyone is a little crazy right now. So we rescheduled. And then I cried a little, because I was so disappointed. Normally, I have a rule against dating guys who make me cry, but since this was a work thing, it wasn't his fault. So we ended up just texting for another week. (I began to get annoyed at the texting after a while...why not just call me? So much easier and less sketchy.) Things got very flirtatious, though. It's so easy to flirt via text...where was I?

Our first date went well...even though he was a little bit late. (Again, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt on first dates. They can be nerve-wracking. So I let it slide. He had texted me to say he was running a little late, so that helped.) The food was good and we had good conversation, but what was odd was the complete and total lack of flirting going on. And he was sitting a little farther away from me than I would have preferred. This, from the guy who, earlier in the week, was asking me some very PG-13 questions via my phone (some I would not even answer because they were a little too personal). This same guy, who had been talking up a big storm about kissing me, was acting like we were on a totally blind date. It was very odd.

He also did most of the talking, which is one of my first date pet peeves. I like a healthy split of getting to know each other, not the entire sordid story of why your marriage broke up. All I asked was how long he had been divorced. I didn't really need to know that she cheated and lied and all that other stuff. It's not really any of my business and made me a little uncomfortable.

I switched topics and asked him about his family. He describes his mother as "manipulative and controlling" and I could see a little red flag pop up. Now, anyone who knows me at all knows that my mother drives me nuts and I believe The Czarina to be a major control freak, but I would never describe her as manipulative, and I certainly wouldn't tell any of that to someone I just met. This, combined with his description of his ex-wife and a couple of bad dates he'd been on recently caused me to make a joke about how he'd bad mouth me later, too. He assured me I was a very pleasant surprise and that I was as attractive in person as I was in my photos. That was a relief. I decided that I would keep my ears peeled for more misogynistic comments, but the little things he said weren't instant deal breakers. For all I knew, it could have been nerves.

I decided to focus on how good looking he was and how good he smelled. And how to get him to sit closer to me. I decided to take off my jacket, exposing a black sequined top that was cut just low enough to be date-worthy, but not slutty. I could feel his eyes right where I wanted them to be. And although he did angle his body towards me a little more and put his arm on the back of the booth, his rear remained firmly in place...too far away for any serious flirting to take place. Rats. I guess that's what I got for telling him the he's not allowed to kiss me on our first date. Oh the joys of trying to pretend to be good when I really don't want to be..........

Our date got better as the night wore on. Aside from the comments about his mom and ex and my unsuccessful attempt to get him to scoot closer, it went well. It went so well that he asked me for a 2nd date just before hugging me goodbye. I was stoked.

Then, all this week, he went back to the vicious flirting and regular texting. I told him I was tired of texting and just wanted to talk, so he called me. After the phone call, he texted me to say how much he likes hearing my voice on the phone. He even asked my favorite question in the whole world: "When can I see you again?". *sigh* I love that question. At this point, I am thinking we are definitely having a super hot makeout session on Date #2. Even if I have to wear a super slut-tastic shirt this time. I can't take it anymore.

Two hours before he's supposed to pick me up for our second date, he texts me.

Would you be pissed if I asked you if we could reschedule for next week?

"If you have to ask that question, you already know the answer, douchebag," I thought. I texted back: So you're canceling on me again?

I am so sorry, he replied.

At this point, I am about to punch a wall I am so pissed. I don't reply. When I get home from work, he texts me again: I am so sorry. If you don't ever want to talk to me again, I totally understand.

Now, I am not stupid. I know that if you really liked someone, you would never say that, out of fear they'd take you up on the idea. He wanted out, but didn't want to be the bad guy. This guy has really mastered texting. He uses it to say all sorts of things he doesn't have the balls to say in person. Despite texting me every day, despite all his little innuendos about sleeping with me, despite the compliments he gave me, despite asking me out a 2nd time...he wanted out. Why, I don't know. And I never will know. Because I replied with

Good. Because I don't.

The worst part was, he never replied to that text.

Getting Maui-d

Did I tell you my brother, Fat Dog, popped the question to his long-time girlfriend? Yup. On top of the Hoover Dam. He's an engineer, so I'm sure to him, this was a very romantic spot. He lucked out, because she said yes. We all adore her and so we are all very happy and excited.

For months, the happy couple has been trying to get the basics of their wedding plans established. Get married in Virginia Beach, where they both live? Get married in my hometown, which is super cheap? Get married this year or next year? They have been very indecisive. I'm sure The Czarina, starving for grandchildren, didn't help matters. She must have really ramped up the pressure when we all found out that the fiance is not 2 years older than him, like we had all thought, but TEN. (We never asked how old she was -- she looks fantastic for her age!)

Yesterday, Fat Dog called me to announce they have decided to have a destination wedding in 4 months. In Maui.

Most people would shout, "Hooray! Maui, here we come!" But there are some difficulties with this plan. In no particular order:

1. The Czarina does not fly. Period.
2. The Czarina, who is chipping in some money towards the wedding, is also paying for Smurf's college tuition right now. So she doesn't exactly have buckets of money laying around.
3. Based on my calculations, it will cost me something like $2,000 to attend this wedding. That will wipe out my savings, eat up the bonus I am going to get....I can go, but it will hurt. A lot.
4. My other two brothers live paycheck to paycheck, so they won't be able to go.
5. Smurf will be in the middle of Fall semester of her sophomore year, so she may not be able to go. Also, The Czarina would have to pay for her to go, too.
6. Banana, my older sister, is currently vacationing in Morocco, so she probably won't have any money left when she gets back.

"So, out of all the people you have called so far, how many said they can go?" I asked him.

"Um, none, actually," he replied.

"Are you prepared to have no guests at your wedding?" I asked.

Silence on his end. I wonder if he realizes that this may mean he gets few wedding gifts, but decide to keep that thought to myself.

"Look," he said, "this is what we are doing. We hope you guys can make it, cuz we would really like you to be there."

*sigh*

This particular sibling of mine is unique in our family in so many ways: he's good at math, he got Grandma's weird feet, he is stubborn to the point of absurdity and he has champagne tastes -- only the best for Fat Dog!

I can just about guess what happened. Fat Dog got sick of all the indecision, ran out of patience and decided that this is what they are doing, no matter the cost, logistics or inconvenience. I know how he operates. I'm sure his fiance is trying to get him to slow down and think about this some, and he is having none of it. (I wish I could say he is the only one in the family who is impatient, but unfortunately, yours truly has the patience of a toddler.)

The part that irritates me the most? His argument that this is cheaper than getting married in our hometown! "You can't get married for less than $10,000. You just can't," he said. Um, I am pretty sure you can. I actually just attended a wedding a few weeks ago that was very small, very fun and very inexpensive. But you see, Fat Dog has a tendency to require only the BEST in everything. Don't get me wrong, it's great to have standards, but a touch of reality is good, too. See, he knows he can get married for less than $10k. He just doesn't want to, because it won't be all fancy and impressive. If he can't have a Top Shelf wedding, he will just basically not have one at all -- which is pretty much what this is. It's just a glorified elopement. But since it's an elopement in Maui, it will still impress.

"So let me get this straight. You guys live at one beach, but you're going to fly aaaaall the way across the country to get married at another beach?" I asked.

"It's Maui," he replied. Touche.

"And how is this cheaper than getting married in our hometown?" I asked.

He was getting frustrated with me now. "Gah! Look, the only weekend we could get married in Farmville is at the end of May, and that's when the Heart of Virginia Festival is happening."

(Trying to get married in our hometown during Heart of Virginia would be daunting, I will agree. It's pretty much the busiest weekend of the year for our 3 little hotels in Farmville.)

"The Heart of Virginia Festival is in May. You just said this would be in September," I pointed out.

"We don't even live there!" he replied.

"Nor do you live in Maui," I observed.

Silence. Touche, brother dear! This was kinda fun! I was enjoying poking holes in all his arguments. I am such a mean older sister, aren't I? But this is what he gets for having such a selfish wedding plan, after we were all looking forward to this wedding.

"So why do you think it will save you money to do it this way?" I continued.

"Because if we get married in Virginia Beach or in Farmville, we will have to invite all these people. You know how it goes -- if you invite this person, then you have to invite that person, too. Soon, your guest list is out of control. We are just inviting family. No one else," he explained.

"Yeah, I know that can happen easily with guest lists," I admitted. That's why you cap it off, make some tough decisions and deal with it, I thought. I imagined the unruly guest list like an untamed Mustang, bucking my brother off its back. How absurd. Who is in charge here, you or your guest list? I thought.

I almost pointed out to him that if you don't have any guests at your wedding, you also don't have any wedding gifts. Wonder if Mr. Top Shelf has realized this.

"Can't you just get married in Farmville or Virginia Beach and then have your honeymoon in Maui?" I pleaded.

"No, cuz that will cost even more money!" he said.

He also argued that they are saving up for a big house, since they are planning to have kids. Is it just me, or should you have the kids first before doing that?? He owns a 2 bedroom condo already. I love that taking a trip to Maui is part of the plan to save money for this house. Is he serious? I can hear Dave Ramsey screaming now.

I got off the phone with him and called The Czarina.

"Are you upset about all of this?" I asked her.

My mother, in true emotionally-repressed, German-American fashion, replied, "I'm not upset. I'm just not going."

Oh boy. She was super pissed. I wondered if she hung up on him, but decided it would be best not to ask.

Upon discovering that she and I both thought he was crazy, and for the same reasons, she told me I shouldn't have said all the stuff I said. (I was supposed to repress it all, like she did!) She made me call him back and apologize. So I did. She was right -- it's his wedding. We should be supportive. We need to be happy that we love his fiance so much.

I'm trying to have a better attitude about this, but I am still kinda pissed. I think he's being really selfish and shallow. Just because he can't have a big Hollywood wedding (like he surely feels he deserves) he will just not have one at all. He's making the wedding all about him, when I think it should involve our families, too. (Maybe I am just crazy, but I thought I was welcoming a new member into our family!) After all, out of the last 4 times my entire family has gotten together, 3 of those times were for funerals. I was kind of looking forward to getting together with my family for a happy occasion for once.

The Czarina thinks they will still change their minds and I shouldn't get too upset. She will probably try and talk some sense into him after she calms down a little. (She would never admit it, but I'm pretty sure she is furious.)

I almost just wish they had run off to Vegas or City Hall and just not told anyone. Then we wouldn't all have to decide if we want to spend all this money -- it would already be a done deal.

I love my brother, but he sure can be a pain in the neck.

D-Day

The school where I work is no different than many other organizations around the country right now in that we are also feeling the financial pinch from our depressed economy. Layoffs have been happening periodically for months now. Why the administration has decided to drag it out and shroud it all in mystery is beyond me, and I am too far down the totem pole to change any of it. One of the ongoing frustrations with these layoffs and all the restructuring around here is that our HR department wields an immense amount of power. Rather than serving as advisers to our ideas and reacting to our needs, they control who stays, who goes, who gets what job and what pay. These decisions are made independently of anyone else, from what I have witnessed. All employees are at the mercy of the whims of HR, which makes them not only an intimidating presence on campus, but also a frustratingly clueless and cowardly one. This is wholly different than any HR department I have ever worked with in any other job. This is a school that is run by an HR department. Which makes no sense, really, if you think about it.

About 2 weeks ago, I met with my temporary dean (you may recall that my former dean quit a couple months back to be closer to her son in Atlanta) to discuss ongoing issues with The Gorilla, my professionally inept and socially sub-normal coworker. Due to my interim status as one of his supervisors, I have been lucky enough to get going on a mission to rid the staff of his presence, which has proven to be quite a morale-lowering experience. Part of this mission involved working with New Girl (the Gorilla's immediate and unfortunate supervisor) to reorganize the reporting structure at the library. According to our plan, we have determined a way to eliminate his position and shift others around to better suit the needs of the library. We even found ways to eliminate most of our part-time positions, which are currently held by students (who could easily find other jobs in restaurants or what have you). She and I were very proud of ourselves and brought this new idea to our temporary dean. She also seemed to really like it, as she has agreed with us from day one the The Gorilla has got to go. She said she would talk to HR about this plan and get back to us. She seemed confident that this would be a great plan and HR would go for it.

So when I went into her office, after she called a meeting with me to discuss things related to HR issues, I have to admit, I was kind of excited. After almost a year of The Gorilla, she was finally going to inform me with some pleasurable news of his impending departure. "The good news is," she started, "we are eliminating his position on June 6th." I silently turned several mental cartwheels, and had a quick parade in my brain, complete with confetti and handfuls of candy being thrown to little children, before snapping back to reality. The good news is? Oh no. That means....there is....oh no.

"The bad news is, they are eliminating your interim position, and so in this new plan..." she pulled out a new reporting structure tree for me to view. "You will go back to your old position. There won't be anyone in charge of the library until you get a new dean."

Seriously? This is so lame. I worked my butt off for this promotion! And now you are taking it away??

I asked if I had done something wrong or if I was not doing a good job (this was a rhetorical question, because I have actually been given a lot of positive feedback from both below and above me). She said no, not at all. She gave me some b.s. explanation which really doesn't add up. You see, our school has several campuses. Each campus has a Head Librarian for that campus. That is the promotion I received (temporarily). The Head Librarians are supervised by a dean, who oversees big picture planning and advocates for all of the libraries to upper administration. Since all deans are located in Savannah, their argument is that when we get a new dean, they can be both the Head Librarian and the dean for all campuses. Not only is this not what a dean does (at any school), it is too much for one person to manage. My former dean should know, because she had to do it for a year or so.

So much for their promise to me that my promotion was only interim because they didn't want to make any major personnel changes until we get a new dean. I am not quite sure how I feel about continuing to work for a place that breaks its word to its employees.

The problem with this plan is that we don't have a new dean yet. Nor will we have one any time soon, if they keep bringing in the same awful candidates they have been parading around for the last 3 months. So on June 6th (D-Day, ironically enough), no one will be in charge of my campus's library. There will be a group of department heads, who I assume will have to meet all the time to make decisions. (There are actually a plethora of logistical problems with this plan, and I won't bore you with details. Trust me, this is not going to be a smooth operation -- I am not just saying this because it is my promotion that is being eliminated. This is simply a stupid idea, put together by people who obviously have no idea how a library, let alone our library, works.)

Unfortunately for me and my coworkers, this was not the only change to the reporting structure. I was not the only person getting screwed over. New Girl would be losing The Gorilla, which was great. But she would be gaining the supervision for THREE other departments. Yes, I said three. I would like to mention that she was hired to be a one-person department and not supervise anyone. So this was most definitely not what she moved across the country for. I would also like to add that she does not have the experience or knowledge to supervise some of these departments very well. (Don't get me wrong, she is a rockstar librarian, but there are some library jobs that require an extremely specialized set of skills, and if you don't have them, you may as well be a baseball player trying to conduct an orchestra -- no offense to baseball players.) And it's not just that. The job she was hired for is plenty for one person to do, and she is doing it so well, and now she won't have time to do it very much. This will affect all of us.

Before all of this happened, we actually needed to hire 3 more librarians to be fully staffed. With their new structure, we will actually have 3 fewer librarians. We are essentially down 6 people. The whole library just got screwed. They can give me all their b.s. explanations, but I know it's really because of money and a lack of any attempt to understand how libraries work or what we need. With their new plan (which was nothing like the one New Girl and I created), they don't have to fill any of our vacancies except the dean's. They are combining and squishing so many things around, the currently vacant positions are going to be absorbed by others. They are going to be paying New Girl more, but at what cost? I will probably not be so lucky. I will get a bonus for the few months that I was in my promoted status, so that is cool. My office will also be free of The Gorilla, which is even better, actually.

This has felt comparable to grief for me. First, there was shock. They're not really doing this. That is crazy! They were just kicking this around as an idea. Then, sadness. Getting rid of The Gorilla is great, but this is going to lower our morale even more. I really like my new job, and I am going to miss it. The next day, I was seething with anger. They broke their promise to me! They took something away from me that I worked really hard for! And I'm good at it! They have no idea what they are doing and don't seem to care how this affects others! Late last week, I reached the negotiation stage. I can convince them that this won't work. I just have to prove it! But after my request to meet with my temporary dean was not acknowledged, reality set in. This is going to happen whether I like it or not. Nothing I can do or say will change it.

The thing that makes me the saddest is that now, there is nowhere for me to move up here. There is no Head Librarian position anymore. They are requiring the new dean to have a PhD (which is absurd, because very VERY few library deans have PhDs -- only library deans at major universities have them, and most of the other deans and faculty at this school do not have PhDs-- some don't even have masters degrees.) I am stuck being the head of my department. That's it. That's the end of the line for me. This school doesn't seem to care if I would like to advance my career here or if I get burned out. That is what upsets me about this the most. I think I could really make great things happen here. So do my coworkers. So do faculty I have talked to. But HR and upper administration don't seem to value that. They just want me to go back to being in charge of the busiest department in the library, where I will get burned out quickly. This promotion was really the only thing keeping me here. I have no choice but to begin looking for a new job elsewhere.

New Girl and I have been talking to and emailing our old boss about all of this. She is furious with our HR department and cannot believe what they are doing to us. She thinks they have wanted to do something like this for a long time and are taking advantage of us because we don't have a leader right now. We have no one to defend us to HR or upper administration.

Only one thing can save me. My old boss. The dean who left. She hates her new job and wants to come back and be our dean again. She even wrote a letter to our president to make her intentions formal and clear. The President and the other higher ups adore my old boss, and would like her to come back. But there are some negotiations they will have to work out. My old boss wants to stay in Atlanta. They will want her here in Savannah. Right now, they told her that if they don't find a new dean in the next couple of months, they will have her come back. If she gets to come back, but gets to stay in Atlanta, she will immediately advocate for me to get my promotion back -- permanently. Actually, knowing how much she likes me, she will advocate for me to get it back no matter where she is.

I wonder if I will still be here then.

All By Myself

Now that you have that song stuck in your head (hate me?)...

I.

Am.

Alone.

For three weeks. And 20 minutes into it, so far, it is A-W-E-S-O-M-E. I feel like I am on vacation. Think of me how you will, but the Ex-F (that's CN to most of you) just left to go out of town for...

THREE WHOLE WEEKS. INCLUDING WEEKENDS.

And I am soooooooo happy. He has been driving me bonkers lately. You see, he's having a hard time understanding that we are no longer together. My evidence?

I received a birthday present. (a nice gesture, I will say)
I received a Christmas present. (also a nice gesture)
I received a Valentine's Day present. And card. Which ended with "Love, CN"

Think about it. When was the last time you gave your ex any or all of the above? I thought so. To make it even more awkward, his mom still says hi to me when she calls, which is (again) nice, but really not necessary. I have slowly been trying to distance myself from him. But it's not easy.

If I am making dinner, and didn't consult him or invite him, he gets angry and sulks.
If I don't welcome him home at the end of the day, he sulks.
If I say anything which implies we are no longer an item or that I am no longer in love with him, he sulks.

I am sick and tired of all the sulking. It's manipulative and irritating. Because if I don't go over to him and apologize and soothe him, he will never stop sulking. It's gone on for as long as 48 hours before I give in. UGH. And lately, I have been not making as much of an effort to de-sulk him. Because I don't effing care anymore. We are over. Sorry it ended this way, it's not like I planned it. But we are not together anymore, so stop acting like it. Build a bridge already!

Ok, now that I have exposed myself as a cruel and heartless bitch, I will go on. Venting over for the time being.

I think that little dating he did a few weeks back was just something he was trying to distract himself with. His heart wasn't really in it. Yesterday, he was acting very strangely, and after asking him a MILLION times to just tell me (because that's fun), he told me he was sad about us. I have those days, too, sometimes, so I understand. But when you have no hobbies and no friends, it's kind of hard to get out of that slump and sad mood. To get over crap times in your life, you need a support network of friends and interests. He has neither, despite my pleading with him about how much it would benefit his level of happiness.

(Y'all, I am not exaggerating -- the man really has little interest in anything outside of the NFL and watching TV, and he has never had many friends because he is both paranoid and refuses to put himself out there. Yes, these two aspects of his personality played a role in our breaking up. I got tired of always being social director.)

Ok, so I lied about the venting being over.

Last night, Ex-F announced he was going to look into moving out when he gets back from his work trip. Thank effing gawd. We have been staying here as roomies (ask me how fun that is, btw) for 6 months, and although I love saving all this money, I am about to lose my mind. Not only is it an awkward living situation, but I am on Sulk Patrol, I can't really date and I'm rapidly becoming majorly annoyed with the fact that he feels the need to hog up all the space in the refrigerator with 7 different types of drinks. And he is SO LOUD all the time. Howard Stern (which I abhor) is blared all day long at 56 decibels.

Whoa. I didn't realize how annoyed I was until I started writing this post!

Anyway, at this point, I am ok with sucking it up for a few months and paying for the rent by myself. I may not even move when the lease is up. I don't think I will be able to find anything with as much space, quiet and safety for any less. The only problem?

My tenant (in my house in SC) is moving out in 3 weeks. I currently do not have a replacement tenant. So this might get interesting, financially. Add to that, my plan B fell through -- did I tell you about the married couple I know who said they would be willing to share a house w/me when my lease is up? Well, I just found out they renewed their lease for another year, which means they are not moving in August as originally planned. Looks like I am out on my own.

Rats. Oh well. I have not lived alone in a while, and I am DYING to. Ex-F never leaves the house, which means I am never alone at all. Never. All day, every day. Unless I leave the house. Which gets old, because sometimes I want to just crash in front of the TV in my jammies, not get in my car to go somewhere and be anonymous in public. Why do I always have to be the one to leave?

In case you are wondering why I am not considering moving out, here are the reasons:

1. Ex-F really cannot afford this rent on his own. I can (even though it means I will be eating PB&J sandwiches for lunch every day). The last thing I want to do is dick him over some more.
2. Knowing him, he will return from his trip all happy and perfectly content with staying put. He talks a big game, but always opts for whatever is easiest in life (another personality trait I don't like.)
3. Until I get a tenant in my house in SC, I need to stick with whatever is cheapest, and right now, that means staying put and convincing Ex-F to stay put, too.

Ugh. Boy did I learn my lesson. I am NEVER living with a man again until I get married. Whenever that is.

Thanks for letting me vent. And if you think I'm a bitch, that's ok. Maybe I am. But living with Mr. Sulkface who has no friends or interests other than stocking an army's worth of drinks in the fridge would get on your nerves,too. Trust me.

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.

My New Home, Part 3

Do you want the good news or the bad news first? How about bad.

You know how when you leave a job, you usually get to cash in your unused vacation time? Ok, well I just went to HR today to do the whole exit procedure stuff and I found out that instead of getting to cash out what I thought would end up being 19 days of vacation time, I will only get to cash out 6. Without going into all the details as to why, I will just say that I do not accrue vacation time at this job. I have a designated amount that I have to use up by the end of the year (our year runs from July - June). So I really shot myself in the foot by showing up to work all these past months. In fact, if I had used up all my vacation time by now, I would still be able to cash in on those 6 particular days.

So to say I'm disappointed is putting it lightly. I am kind of pissed. Plus, I could have really used the money from cashing in 19 days. But at least I get 6. Oh well.

But the good news is, since I can't cash it in (ie, take it with me, so to speak), I might as well use up as much of it as I can before I go. So I'm taking off most of the rest of the week. Which works out pretty well, considering I have umpteen things to do before I move on Saturday.

Alright. Enough of that. I wanted to share pics of the interior of my new place w/y'all. I created a virtual floorplan on floorplanner.com (free!) so you can see the layout of my place.

I went ahead and put in some virtual furniture, too, just to make it more realistic. Ok, so now that you have a feel for what it looks like, let me show you the photos. I'm showing you the pics in the order you'd see the rooms if you parked behind the house and enter thru the backdoor, which is the door I will be using for the most part. This first one is the dining and/or entryway. It will probably end up being CN's office. It's the first thing you see when you walk in the back door.
Next, to your right is the kitchen. I really like the cabinets -- each upper one has 4 shelves! I need that, since I have so much cooking stuff. The door you see is open -- that's where the pantry is. I heart pantries. Notice the lack of dishwasher. :(
If you are leaving the kitchen, this is what you see.
Going back through the entryway, you next enter my living room, modeled here by the lovely MJ. Check out that fireplace! I am in love with my fireplaces. Yay for architectural/historical detailing!!! :) Boo for this room only having one electrical outlet. :( Although as I pointed out, this makes TV placement a no-brainer. LOL! I will be putting my couch under the window, because the TV has to go in the opposite corner.
Next, you proceed to the bedroom. Gotta love those gorgeous floors and the big picture window. I think I will put my bed under it.
The other side of my room has a nice-sized closet, again modeled by the lovely MJ. As you can see, she's as excited about it as I am. And no, I am not prepared to share this closet with CN. I will cross that bridge when I get to it. Still need to figure out where to put 60 pairs of shoes.....hmmmm....
The other corner has my bedroom fireplace. This is a close-up. Both of my fireplaces are original to the house--only the tile surround is new. But only the bedroom fireplace has the original mirror as well.

Alright, now if you were to come in through the front door instead of the back door, you would be entering my hallway. The doors on the right are as follows: bedroom, living room, and then straight ahead is my bathroom (you can see my sink and shower/tub combo -- the toilet is to the left, but you can't see it in this shot). The door on the left is the laundry area, of which I forgot to take a photo. So use your imagination.

Continuing down the hall, you will enter the bathroom, part of which is pictured here. Yay for linen closets!!!

And last but not least, here's a cool shot. If you were to stand on my front porch, facing the street, and look to your right, here's what you would see:

I love how all the porches line up like that. I think it is so cool and old-fashioned. The house closest is where the students live. I mentioned them in the last post.

Alright, I also dug up some photos I took when CN and I went to Savannah last fall. Better late than never, right? It's funny what you find when you decide to finally put all your pics onto your computer. :P
This is a really cool drain spout I saw in Savannah.
Savannah has buildings from just about every time period and architectural style.
It will take me months before I pick out my favorite house in town.
It was love at first sight when it came to the trees. Live oaks grow very large, and the branches are very gnarled and arching. Throw in some Spanish moss hanging from the trees like cobwebs, and it's basically impossible to shake the romantic, spooky and fairy-tale-like aura of the town.
This is The Olde Pink House. It was originally a home built in the late 1700s, but now it's a restaurant. It's haunted. Trivia fact: it was not meant to be pink. They had red brick and covered it with white stucco, but the brick bled through, turning the stucco pink. But the name stuck, so they kept it pink.

Seriously, I can't stop taking photos of these trees, y'all.
This building is called the Cotton Exchange. I don't think there's much exchanging going on these days. It's currently vacant. On the other side of this building is the Savannah River. Lots of bars, tourist traps and restaurants, too.
This is City Hall. One of the nicest-looking city halls I've seen in a while. The dome was only painted gold in the last few years. It's really pretty in the sunshine.
You may know that downtown Savannah has a series of squares placed periodically throughout the blocks and rows of old homes. I think there are 24 of them, and it's really nice to break up the streets with mini-parks. These last 2 are photos from Chippewa Square, where a big statue of General Oglethorpe stands. He founded Savannah in 1733. Trivia fact: he is facing South, because Savannah was founded by the English as a way to defend its borders from the Spanish, who were in nearby Florida at the time. So he is turned to face his enemy.

If you want to know more about Savannah, here's info about its history, Gen. Oglethorpe and the Squares. You can also watch Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which gives you a good feel for the city today, in addition to being a really good movie.

The $300 Water Bottle

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

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

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

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

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

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

It.

Was.

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This item is no longer available."

Are you freaking kidding me.

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

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

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

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

*sigh*

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

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

Red & Green

Today, they are not only Christmas colors, but also relevant to my life.

Red -- the color of my left eye. No, I do not have pinkeye. I think I have burst some blood vessels, because I have no change in vision, pain, itching, swelling or eye crusties. And it's not getting worse or spreading. Just one half of one eye, red. Just hanging out. Every time I look in the mirror, it says to me, "Hi! Yup. Still here. Making you look like you're sick, tired, high or otherwise not a good person to stand next to! Enjoy wearing your glasses!" I'm pretty sure it's just some irritated/burst blood vessels. Which, according to my casual internet research, can happen from something as simple as a sneeze, violent coughing or vomiting. It probably happened on Tuesday night, after I barfed on the way home from the gym.

Math moment:

Lazy attitude towards exercise
random, intense trainer workout at gym
+ genetic predisposition for sensitive stomach
---------------------------------------
barfing in a parking lot.

Luckily, I picked a vacant office building parking lot, so no one had to stumble upon my barf upon arriving at work the next morning. WHEW.

Anyway, WebMD says that it should get better on its own, gradually, over the next 2 weeks. If not, it's time to see a doctor. I'm not wearing my contacts as a precaution. I'm now wearing my glasses until further notice. Which I hate doing. Oh well.

Trivia fact for you: Despite my fairly frequent and unpredictable barfing spells, CN has yet to witness me barf. He didn't know that I barfed throughout our first date until weeks later when I told him. Yeah, I'm a pro. Don't hate.

Green -- As in, the color of money. Luckily, it's not my money I am referring to.

CN has a company car, which is great. He doesn't have to pay a dime out of pocket for anything car-related, including gas. Don't you just hate him? I know, me too. Because it's not his car, he has to take it to company-approved mechanics, because they have special agreements worked out with them. One of these companies is Jiffy Lube. Or, as I like to call it, Stiffy Rube. Because they are full of idiots who rip you off. Or idiots who make you take it up the ass. I will let you choose your own definition, depending on your level of pervertedness.

Hopefully, I am not offending any of you by saying this, but in my experience, Jiffy Lube hires only the most supreme morons of America. Their last straw with me was when I got an oil change, and they forgot to put the cap back on. During my drive from NC to Virginia, I started noticing something leaking from the engine up to my windshield. When my wipers failed to remove it, I pulled over to find a coating of motor oil all over my car. It was also all over my engine, and it was beginning to burn, which if you have never smelled, is not exactly anything close to Chanel No. 5. I still had about 3 hours of travel time left, and had to just deal with it until I got to The Czarina's and pay $100 to have my engine power washed. Grrrrr...

Anyway, despite my Tales of Horror and Warning Concerning Jiffy Lube, CN always gets his oil changed there -- it's one of the company approved places. It's right by our house and one of his favorite dive bars. He usually goes to the bar for a beer and pizza or to watch a game while he waits. This is what he did on Friday afternoon.

While he was enjoying his beer and pizza, the friggin idiots over at Jiffy Lube were getting a lesson in car lifts: DO NOT lift a car by anything other than pre-approved, sturdy areas of the under carriage. This is because the other areas are not meant to bear the weight of a vehicle, you frigging numb nuts who apparently flunked out of mechanic school.

When CN picked up his car, they inform him that they "had some difficulty" in removing the tires (I think he got a tire rotation, too) and didn't rotate them because of that. CN was like, "Ok, whatever," and proceeded to get into the car to get it back home. One the way home, he realizes that something is very wrong. Despite normal steering activity and decision-making skills on the part of the driver, the car wants to turn sideways, especially when the brake is applied. You can imagine how fun this is when you approach a stoplight, or say, oncoming traffic. It gives bumper cars a whole new meaning. At worst, you could die in a T-Bone collision. At best, you look like you're doing some pretty cool 180s. In traffic.

So, to sum up, Jiffy Lube is full of dipshits who are taking *no* responsibility for this, CN's car is now at a better mechanic, getting worked on. But it's so jacked up that he may actually end up getting a new company car. THAT is how much they jacked up his car. (His car is only a year old.)

While it's no skin off his nose, because he doesn't have to pay for it, CN is finally hating JackAss Lube as much as I am. File this under: "I Told You So".

Ok, I will share The Czarina's latest exploit with you in the next post. Promise. It's time to go home, and that is a post which will take some careful wording.