So lately I've been spending more and more time at the manfriend's house (having hoards of open free time will do that to you)... Here's the thing though - my man? Not so domestic. I know that men just don't have the eye for detail when it comes to cleanliness that women have, but how can they ignore Mt. Trash Can in the kitchen? And Soap Scum Paradise in the Bathroom? If my living space is not in harmony, I can't concentrate. I mean literally.
I. Cannot. Concentrate. At. All.
Which is why I spent the whole morning cleaning my man's kitchen rather than lounging and watching TV (like him) or sending out trillions of copies of my resume and cover letters. I just couldn't take it anymore!!!!! I couldn't take the film of yuck that layered his stove/floor/refrigerator/microwave. I couldn't take playing 'what's on the bottom of my sock' one more time after I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. I definitely couldn't take heating up a mug of hot chocolate in the microwave and wondering what grossness was left in the microwave to bake with it (yum! added flavor!)
But here's the thing. Have I stepped over a boundary by playing Cinderella today??? Should I have waited until he was inspired to do it himself and then praise him accordingly for doing it (much like how one praises a child for using the potty at the appropriate time)? I sure as shit don't want to take on The Nagging Girlfriend role, but then again, I don't want to have to wonder what exactly that... ewwwwwwww .... is on the floor either. Ah! Such a line to walk!
So today, as I was cleaning, I did the only thing I could think of: I berated him for being a filthy, dirty boy (in a total nonsexual way) and told him that he should be ashamed of his housecleaning skillz (yes. skillz.with a Z). I know. Super mature. I just couldn't help it. With every bucket of dirty water, resentment grew inside of me. I mean. COME ON. He's 30 years old! Is gainfully employed! Has lived on his own for at least a decade!
HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW HOW TO CLEAN UP AFTER HIMSELF?!?!?!
I'll tell you how. Women. Women from previous relationships. and even his own mother, have enabled him to go on without ever having to touch the Spic and Span. My brother is the same way - I honestly don't believe my brother would know how to dress himself without Cupcake (his girlfriend) at the helm of his closet.
Ladies, I think it's time that we teach our men how to fish instead of keep throwing them cans of tuna. Yes. It's going to be a hard, long war. Yes. We are going to have to overlook streaks on the mirrors, missed spots, and inappropriately folded laundry, but in the long run - it's for the best. Just think - after 20 or so years of training they'll be able to finally load the dishwasher, empty the garbage, and throw a load of laundry in just like we do EVERY FREAKING DAY without feeling taxed, over-worked, or slighted.
We can do this! All we have to do is band together and buckle down. Hoo Rah!
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Who says...
 | |
| Santa has to have milk with his cookies? |
And yes. That is Breaking Dawn in the background. So what.
As I poured myself a glass of wine and got some cookies to go with it (it is a dessert wine after all)... I wondered what Santa would do if he found some wine and cookies instead of the usual milk (skim, 1%, whole?) and baked goodies. I believe that Santa would relish in the diversity of the arrangement and slurp that wine down with his pinky held high in a sophisticated manner. :)
So as 2010 comes to a close, I hope that you all appreciate the traditions around you, but have enough wits to realize that traditions are only important to us because of the meaning behind them... and if a particular tradition is chaffing you the wrong way, (christmas dinner has to have 5 cup salad... if not, everyone will just DIE so I'm going to drive myself crazy to make it) ditch it, and make a new one. Yeah, your family might gripe a bit because the 5 cup salad isn't at the table, but will definitely appreciate a happier, calmer you in its place.
P.S. I drank the wine swiftly and can now feel its hold on me... hopefully what I just wrote makes sense... all I can say is, if not, pour yourself some tasty spirits, wait a few moments, and reread this blog... hopefully it will all snap together with some libations.
Merry Merry
Monday, December 13, 2010
Zimtsterne
No friends. I did not have stroke. The subject title of this blog is in honor of one of my dear german friends who taught me how to make cinnamon stars (or Zimtsterne for all of those in the know) this year. And they are delicious. So yay!!! and woot woot! and such.
Now that I have your attention - I have a question. Would someone please explain to me why shopping carts have flimsy little wheels on them??? Especially in locales that get hoards of snow and slush and other weather unpleasantness? May I suggest that shopping carts should come equipped with all terrain tires with at least some semblance of tread on them.... I mean, yeah. I get it. Shopping carts are primarily used inside. The land of tiled floors and smooth terrain (ta da!) but let's think for a second, shall we, about what happens when we discover that our car is in fact parked outside. In the Icy Tundra. At the end of the parking lot. Which is filled with crazy moving vehicles, crazy frantic people, and crazy short-tempered me. and not in a weather shielded, tiled floor Eden???
I'll tell you what happens. A horrible game of Ice Frogger (or Rain Frogger or Slippery Fall Leaves Frogger or Blinded-By-The-Sun Frogger - the last one has nothing to do with the wheels on the cart, but is just maybe an explanation as to why my retinas put up a fight every time I head to the grocery store). I love going to the store to come out and be presented with a "Cosmic Challenge" (not!).
Do the managers of these grocery stores take pleasure in seeing women struggle with shopping carts that have the steering capabilities of of hot air balloon on a windy day????? I can only assume yes, because if not, I wouldn't have to take my life in my hands when I am forced to participate in the Metal Death Ballet with a full shopping cart. So as you make your many trips to the market to gather toys and festive foods for your loved ones, I wish you God Speed and Good Luck. May you be the Prima Ballerina in the Metal Death Ballet and come out of the experience victoriously clutching your ripened bananas as if they were an Olympic Gold Medal!
In other news, I have graduated from Advil to 'for real pain killers' for my back (yay). Last week, I spent most of my time on my back and legs elevated (DIRTY! Get your filthy minds out of the gutters) to alleviate the pressure on my spine (which was helping) only to be taken down by fate yesterday. I finally left my house to go out to breakfast, and upon returning, fell down a few outside stairs (wooden - not concrete THANK GOD). So today, I am sporting lovely bruises on my arse, back of my thighs and arms, and ego. I still blame the wii for killing me in the first place. The stairs were just karma's way of saying... HAHA we forgot how much fun it was to see you in pain!
The good news is that the 'for real pain killers' have been causing quite colorful dreams. I mean, really. Do you think it would be possible to dream of a world made totally out of corn without them???????? Oh yeah, Lovelies. I said it. Corn. I had corn shoes in this dream. I lived in a corn house. The clouds were in beautiful fluffy corn shapes What an amazingly buttery and delicious dream. *sigh*
The happy pills have also caused:
And then I wonder why I'm single. :)
Alright. Time to go. There's much laying with elevated legs and hallucinating to be done.
Happy Monday!
P.S. If you would like the recipe for Zimtsterne, click below
Now that I have your attention - I have a question. Would someone please explain to me why shopping carts have flimsy little wheels on them??? Especially in locales that get hoards of snow and slush and other weather unpleasantness? May I suggest that shopping carts should come equipped with all terrain tires with at least some semblance of tread on them.... I mean, yeah. I get it. Shopping carts are primarily used inside. The land of tiled floors and smooth terrain (ta da!) but let's think for a second, shall we, about what happens when we discover that our car is in fact parked outside. In the Icy Tundra. At the end of the parking lot. Which is filled with crazy moving vehicles, crazy frantic people, and crazy short-tempered me. and not in a weather shielded, tiled floor Eden???
I'll tell you what happens. A horrible game of Ice Frogger (or Rain Frogger or Slippery Fall Leaves Frogger or Blinded-By-The-Sun Frogger - the last one has nothing to do with the wheels on the cart, but is just maybe an explanation as to why my retinas put up a fight every time I head to the grocery store). I love going to the store to come out and be presented with a "Cosmic Challenge" (not!).
Do the managers of these grocery stores take pleasure in seeing women struggle with shopping carts that have the steering capabilities of of hot air balloon on a windy day????? I can only assume yes, because if not, I wouldn't have to take my life in my hands when I am forced to participate in the Metal Death Ballet with a full shopping cart. So as you make your many trips to the market to gather toys and festive foods for your loved ones, I wish you God Speed and Good Luck. May you be the Prima Ballerina in the Metal Death Ballet and come out of the experience victoriously clutching your ripened bananas as if they were an Olympic Gold Medal!
In other news, I have graduated from Advil to 'for real pain killers' for my back (yay). Last week, I spent most of my time on my back and legs elevated (DIRTY! Get your filthy minds out of the gutters) to alleviate the pressure on my spine (which was helping) only to be taken down by fate yesterday. I finally left my house to go out to breakfast, and upon returning, fell down a few outside stairs (wooden - not concrete THANK GOD). So today, I am sporting lovely bruises on my arse, back of my thighs and arms, and ego. I still blame the wii for killing me in the first place. The stairs were just karma's way of saying... HAHA we forgot how much fun it was to see you in pain!
The good news is that the 'for real pain killers' have been causing quite colorful dreams. I mean, really. Do you think it would be possible to dream of a world made totally out of corn without them???????? Oh yeah, Lovelies. I said it. Corn. I had corn shoes in this dream. I lived in a corn house. The clouds were in beautiful fluffy corn shapes What an amazingly buttery and delicious dream. *sigh*
The happy pills have also caused:
- Bouts of extreme sleepiness.
- The need to proclaim my undying love to EVERYONE in my phone's contact book... including, but not limited to: people that I do not in fact love or have spoken to in quite some time. WOMP
- An unparalleled ability to sing (or think I can sing. christmas carols. at the top of my lungs. in front of people)
- Me to say yes to future outings and events that I would NEVER have agreed to go to or participate in if I were not hopped up on 'the juice'.
- And lastly, the urge to say phrases like "no huh!" and "you're a butthead" and "why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why, why!?!?!" when I don't get my way. (super classy. I know.)
And then I wonder why I'm single. :)
Alright. Time to go. There's much laying with elevated legs and hallucinating to be done.
Happy Monday!
P.S. If you would like the recipe for Zimtsterne, click below
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
My Neck. My Back. My neck and my back.
Let's give it up for the Friday reference. Yay!
So the last time we spoke, I was brainwashed by Snookie (thank god there is a spray to get rid of that!) and killing myself on the wii fit plus... Well today, I'm smelling of fabulous Icy Hot (it's the new 'now' scent for this Unemployed Diva) and have been bedridden for the past 2 days. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why. Because my wii board is a sadistic bastard who broke my back that's why. :(
Yesterday started off as any other normal day. I woke up, went pee (yes, I went there) and as I was walking back to my bedroom to get ready to wii fit, I thought to myself, "Hey! These socks you are wearing are not a safe choice! You could slip! And fall! And crack your head open! And without health insurance - none of those things sound like something that you want to participate in." So, I simultaneously reach down and bring my leg up to take my right sock off and POP! Goes my back. Then comes the excruciating pain. I almost collapsed in my hallway it hurt so badly. I steadied myself and gimped back to my bedroom.
Ready for the funny part??? The funny thing is that I thought I could just walk off my POP! and would be fine to continue what I had originally set out to do... exercise with wii fit.
HAHAHAHAHA!
I know.
I laughed too (through the tears of pain at how insane I was to even consider it exercising). I even bent over to pick up the wii board to place it in prime exercise floor space... Well let me tell you. After picking it up, another round of excruciating pain racked through my body, and because I couldn't fathom putting the wii board down (because bend = ouchie ouchie owie owie boo hoo), I walked, with the wii board still clutched in arms, over to my bed and collapsed.
And that's how my past 2 days have gone. Bedridden. Barely able to move (I couldn't even lay on my stomach because it hurt even to breathe). Smelling of Icy Hot. And popping Advil like tic tacs (and if you knew me, you'd know that I HATE taking pills. HATE! IT! Swallowing something whole just grosses me out and causes my gag reflex to go into overdrive. Have you ever heard the expression "choking something down"? Well that's me anytime I have to take pills or eat yogurt... I literally choke it down).
Anyway. So there goes my wii fit training (damn hula hoops and marching in a parade and fun balloon adding game and jogging). I'll be lucky if I can walk by next week... let alone Just Dance to the Jackson 5 and Katy Perry... The upside of all of this is that by being incapacitated, I have not been able to make any trips to the kitchen - meaning that I have eaten nothing but random things I can reach... i.e. Snooki's pistachios, bottles of water, a pear, some pretzel chips, and a pudding cup.I can feel myself getting thinner by the moment! Perhaps this is all part of the wii fit training -starvation portion control and debilitating injuries lots of exercise with rest after.
Tomorrow I'm hoping to be able to actually get out of bed.... If not, anyone want to be my nurse?
So the last time we spoke, I was brainwashed by Snookie (thank god there is a spray to get rid of that!) and killing myself on the wii fit plus... Well today, I'm smelling of fabulous Icy Hot (it's the new 'now' scent for this Unemployed Diva) and have been bedridden for the past 2 days. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why. Because my wii board is a sadistic bastard who broke my back that's why. :(
Yesterday started off as any other normal day. I woke up, went pee (yes, I went there) and as I was walking back to my bedroom to get ready to wii fit, I thought to myself, "Hey! These socks you are wearing are not a safe choice! You could slip! And fall! And crack your head open! And without health insurance - none of those things sound like something that you want to participate in." So, I simultaneously reach down and bring my leg up to take my right sock off and POP! Goes my back. Then comes the excruciating pain. I almost collapsed in my hallway it hurt so badly. I steadied myself and gimped back to my bedroom.
Ready for the funny part??? The funny thing is that I thought I could just walk off my POP! and would be fine to continue what I had originally set out to do... exercise with wii fit.
HAHAHAHAHA!
I know.
I laughed too (through the tears of pain at how insane I was to even consider it exercising). I even bent over to pick up the wii board to place it in prime exercise floor space... Well let me tell you. After picking it up, another round of excruciating pain racked through my body, and because I couldn't fathom putting the wii board down (because bend = ouchie ouchie owie owie boo hoo), I walked, with the wii board still clutched in arms, over to my bed and collapsed.
And that's how my past 2 days have gone. Bedridden. Barely able to move (I couldn't even lay on my stomach because it hurt even to breathe). Smelling of Icy Hot. And popping Advil like tic tacs (and if you knew me, you'd know that I HATE taking pills. HATE! IT! Swallowing something whole just grosses me out and causes my gag reflex to go into overdrive. Have you ever heard the expression "choking something down"? Well that's me anytime I have to take pills or eat yogurt... I literally choke it down).
Anyway. So there goes my wii fit training (damn hula hoops and marching in a parade and fun balloon adding game and jogging). I'll be lucky if I can walk by next week... let alone Just Dance to the Jackson 5 and Katy Perry... The upside of all of this is that by being incapacitated, I have not been able to make any trips to the kitchen - meaning that I have eaten nothing but random things I can reach... i.e. Snooki's pistachios, bottles of water, a pear, some pretzel chips, and a pudding cup.I can feel myself getting thinner by the moment! Perhaps this is all part of the wii fit training -
Tomorrow I'm hoping to be able to actually get out of bed.... If not, anyone want to be my nurse?
Monday, December 6, 2010
O to the M to the G!
So the other day I went grocery shopping... I bought the usual fruits, veggies, fresh meats, some dairy and tried my best to stay on the outer perimeter of the store (all the evil processed food lives in the 7th circle of hell aisles. The closer you get to the center of the store, the more evil and tempting the food... It's where the chocolate covered pretzels and soda live, after all.) I didn't think anything of the groceries I bought until I got home and perched myself in front of the tv.
I immediately whipped my head toward the kitchen with my eyes opened wide (like 'there's mysterious footsteps coming up from the basement' opened wide). Sitting in my pantry are the exact pistachios that Snooki was hocking on the tv.
WHAAAAAAAT?
Guys. I think I have been brainwashed by Snooki. I haven't bought pistachios in a hot minute - let alone a $13 bag that I could've gotten for much less at Costco or Sam's Club... I don't even remember putting them in my cart! Oh god. I'm one of Snooki's minions now. I can almost feel the pouf growing and my pale Irish skin getting more orange by the second. Help me!!!! I. Can't. Fight. The. Urge. To. Fist. Pump. Much. Longer. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In other news, I bought a Wii Fit Plus and Just Dance 2 the other day (so that I could fist pump to my heart's content no doubt) and let me tell you - they kicked my ass. After being a Pussy Cat Doll, a master hula hooper, ninja, and Avril Lavigne's back-up dancer, I can barely walk and/or bend over and/or sit in an upright position comfortably. Who knew that standing on a little board while gyrating and waving your arms could almost kill you??? I surely didn't.
A commercial for pistachios with Snooki as the spokesperson came on...
I immediately whipped my head toward the kitchen with my eyes opened wide (like 'there's mysterious footsteps coming up from the basement' opened wide). Sitting in my pantry are the exact pistachios that Snooki was hocking on the tv.
WHAAAAAAAT?
Guys. I think I have been brainwashed by Snooki. I haven't bought pistachios in a hot minute - let alone a $13 bag that I could've gotten for much less at Costco or Sam's Club... I don't even remember putting them in my cart! Oh god. I'm one of Snooki's minions now. I can almost feel the pouf growing and my pale Irish skin getting more orange by the second. Help me!!!! I. Can't. Fight. The. Urge. To. Fist. Pump. Much. Longer. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In other news, I bought a Wii Fit Plus and Just Dance 2 the other day (so that I could fist pump to my heart's content no doubt) and let me tell you - they kicked my ass. After being a Pussy Cat Doll, a master hula hooper, ninja, and Avril Lavigne's back-up dancer, I can barely walk and/or bend over and/or sit in an upright position comfortably. Who knew that standing on a little board while gyrating and waving your arms could almost kill you??? I surely didn't.
Owie! Owie! Ouch!
It does burn so good though. :) Gotta burn off all of those christmas cookies and holiday treats somehow... Keep your fingers crossed because I think tomorrow I might regain the ability to bend over and put on my socks! Yay!
Happy Monday!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Help Me!!!!
Celebrities have invaded my dreams!!!!!
So I was all geared up and ready to write a blog about family and holidays and trying to not take a left on a bridge when it should be the happiest season, but after writing the initial paragraph, I wasn't into it. Not that I'm not into holidays and crazy family stories (read: crazy family and stories about them, not just fun little things that have happened to my sane, normal, and totally not-asking-for-it family. My family asks for it like a homeless person asks for change), but for some reason celebrities invading my dreams sparked more motivation in me (go figure).
So let's discuss my dream shall we?
Setting: Just an open expanse - think empty warehouse or stage area. All of the players (myself included) are sitting/standing in a loose circle (think group therapy session circle minus the yucky too-small-for-my-butt chairs). We are stranded in this 'place' which feels like an abyss. It's just us, a gray (or grey) expanse, and some random wingback chairs, cushy leather chairs, stools, and an oriental rug (god my brain knows how to tie a room together).
Lighting: The place is well lit, but there aren't any lamps or overhead lights that I can visibly see as being a light source. It's like radiant light from off in the distance, only more office sunset if that makes ANY sense. Don't feel bad if it doesn't. Someone long ago told me that I speak my own language, and that most of the time she has to translate my words, sounds, and hand gestures into an actual sentence... I guess when I talk it's more like a giant game of charades, but with sound and words clues. I'm an acquired taste, what can I say?
Cast: Christina Aguilera, Aretha Franklin, Kit Kittredge (from that movie that I'm pretty sure NO ONE saw - including myself so I'm a little confused how she ended up there...), Clay Aiken, one of the Darrins from Bewitched (the one everyone liked... not the guy at the end that everyone thought was an ass), and Alec Baldwin
Let's pause right here for a moment to discuss the insanity that is my brain... WTF. Really??? First of all, I don't even watch American Idol. I have never been and will never be a 'Claymate' (I just shuddered and gagged a little just typing it). So how in the sam hill did he mosey his way into my dream????? Kit Kittredge??? I had to google that stupid movie just learn what it was about, who was in it, and how to spell Kittredge... um. Which by the way - in my brain - Kit was played by Emma Roberts not Abigail Breslin (sorry for the cast change Abby. I'm sure you did a great job in real life). Interestingly enough though, after reading wikipedia, I found out that Julia Roberts (Emma Robert's aunt for those of you in the not-know) was one of the producers of the movie... huh? huh? my brain pieced the connection together!!! I'm psychic!!!!!!!!! ok. or just psycho. Sad Face.
Now back to the set up...
Plot: So as everyone is sitting/standing, I look around and see Christina Aguilera and Aretha Franklin (Christina standing. Aretha sitting on a throne-like chair) arguing. At first, I think they are arguing over who is the best vocalist or performer, but as I tune in, I learn that it is really about a bowl of M&Ms. Peanut ones. Christina wants to hold the bowl and Aretha, who has the bowl in her lap, won't give it up.
Darrin, from Bewitched, is looking around and over his shoulders. He's a paranoid one, that guy is. He won't sit down. He is standing kind of off from the circle wringing his hands together and shoulders hunched forward. I guess after all of those years of Endora just popping in and crazy shit happening, he's a little jumpy. Poor guy.
Alec Baldwin is walking around the inside of the circle (on my precious rug!!!!) shaking everyone's hands and saying, "Hi! I'm a Baldwin. Alec Baldwin. Not to be confused with Stephen, Billy, or Daniel. Those are my brothers. But we're all Baldwins. I'm Alec Baldwin. Not to be confused with...." and so on and so on. I thought, "Damn! He is hot on tv. Shame that he is a schlep in real life." Sigh.
I look to my left and see Kit (played by Emma Roberts) standing at attention with one arm in the air pointing to nothing shouting, "Let's Go! We Have To Save The Day! Come On Gang! Daylight's A Wastin'! Offfff Weeeee Gooooooooo!" I have no idea if this was in the trailer of the movie or makes any sense with who the character is, but that's my brain... Now I feel like I have to Netflix the movie just so I can see if it is better or worse than my imagination.
And what about Clay Aiken, you ask?? Well let me tell you!
Clay Aiken. The second place American Idol Contestant (Aw... whatever happened to Reuben????), accomplished (haha) Broadway Performer, and media looney toon is twirling. That's right, lovelies. I said TWIRLING. Doing graceful ballet moves around the circle while wearing those ballet tights (complete with ball thing to make his junk more pronounced... Yes. I looked. So sue me.Actually. Don't sue me. I'm unemployed. I'm on a fixed income. Suing me would not be very nice. But yes. I did look at a Clay Aiken's ballet tighted junk.) He's prancing and leaping and is SHIRTLESS! Oh. My. God.
It's at this point that I wake up. It's at this point that I say out loud, What. The. Fuck. Was. That. !?!?! It's at this point that I notice that my tv is on with the Netflix screen up. As I look at the screen, I realize that 30 Rock episode 22 of season 3 just played. Not familiar with that episode? Well let me enlighten you. Jack (Alec Baldwin!!!!), begins to bond with Milton, his dad. Milton needs a kidney. Jack doesn't want to give it to him (and finds out that he is not a match), so he calls every favor he has in to arrange a "We Are the World"esque benefit concert... So all of these celebrities are there and sing a hilarious song about donating a kidney. Guess who's in the group?!?! None other than Clay Aiken........ I'll give you moment to digest it all.
...
...
...
I know! It's messed up. I still have no idea where Kit, Darrin, Christina, or Aretha came from, but at least I have some clue as to how this CRAZY dream came about. Damn! I need to stop eating chocolate and watching Netflix before I go to bed. What would have happened if I had accidentally switched on the Auschwitz documentary that I have been meaning to watch?????????? I could have seriously injured my psyche!! Without insurance right now, mental health care is somewhat of a luxury. Wow! That was a close one!
Note to self: do not have Netflix on before bedtime. Just. Say. No.
Happy Friday!
I look to my left and see Kit (played by Emma Roberts) standing at attention with one arm in the air pointing to nothing shouting, "Let's Go! We Have To Save The Day! Come On Gang! Daylight's A Wastin'! Offfff Weeeee Gooooooooo!" I have no idea if this was in the trailer of the movie or makes any sense with who the character is, but that's my brain... Now I feel like I have to Netflix the movie just so I can see if it is better or worse than my imagination.
And what about Clay Aiken, you ask?? Well let me tell you!
Clay Aiken. The second place American Idol Contestant (Aw... whatever happened to Reuben????), accomplished (haha) Broadway Performer, and media looney toon is twirling. That's right, lovelies. I said TWIRLING. Doing graceful ballet moves around the circle while wearing those ballet tights (complete with ball thing to make his junk more pronounced... Yes. I looked. So sue me.Actually. Don't sue me. I'm unemployed. I'm on a fixed income. Suing me would not be very nice. But yes. I did look at a Clay Aiken's ballet tighted junk.) He's prancing and leaping and is SHIRTLESS! Oh. My. God.
It's at this point that I wake up. It's at this point that I say out loud, What. The. Fuck. Was. That. !?!?! It's at this point that I notice that my tv is on with the Netflix screen up. As I look at the screen, I realize that 30 Rock episode 22 of season 3 just played. Not familiar with that episode? Well let me enlighten you. Jack (Alec Baldwin!!!!), begins to bond with Milton, his dad. Milton needs a kidney. Jack doesn't want to give it to him (and finds out that he is not a match), so he calls every favor he has in to arrange a "We Are the World"esque benefit concert... So all of these celebrities are there and sing a hilarious song about donating a kidney. Guess who's in the group?!?! None other than Clay Aiken........ I'll give you moment to digest it all.
...
...
...
I know! It's messed up. I still have no idea where Kit, Darrin, Christina, or Aretha came from, but at least I have some clue as to how this CRAZY dream came about. Damn! I need to stop eating chocolate and watching Netflix before I go to bed. What would have happened if I had accidentally switched on the Auschwitz documentary that I have been meaning to watch?????????? I could have seriously injured my psyche!! Without insurance right now, mental health care is somewhat of a luxury. Wow! That was a close one!
Note to self: do not have Netflix on before bedtime. Just. Say. No.
Happy Friday!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Mean Girls
For all of my life, I've been a girl's girl. I love makeup, nail polish, lovely perfume, and fancy shoes. New clothes make me as excited as someone who hears they are up for winning a car on the Price is Right. I have swooned over jewelry and handbags. Sports are something that I have learned about as I've gotten older and appreciate, but don't expect me to be having a beer (tastes like spoiled fizz to me) and gobbling down pizza (jackie warner would be so ashamed) while screaming at the tv. It's just not my style.
I mention this all because my tribe (aka my circle of friends) is mostly all female (most men don't want to sit around talking about Project Runway and why I am so deeply against Alex on Grey's Anatomy). I love my friends with every ounce of my being, but with an all female tribe, sometimes life gets a little hairy - to say the least.
One thing that men do that women don't (and that I'm highly envious of) is that men will come outright and tell you if they piss you off, have overstepped your bounds, or have broken one of the rules of The Man Code. They'll have a diplomatic discussion (most likely while watching or playing some sporting event) and that will be the end of it. If both parties still can't agree they will still play nice with each other, but will seek each other out to watch and play sporting events with less and less.
Women? Not so much. Women treat disagreements like warfare. There are secret lunches and shopping trips with allies to discuss the enemy's weaknesses (which can range from bad hair and sloppy dressing to chewing with her mouth open and bad parenting) and to plan a future plan of attack (ex: The next time I see her at the PTA meeting, I am so not going to say hello or sit by her. She knows what she did. How could she do that to me?!?!). Women need the reassurance of the rest of their tribe that what they did was right, and what the other person did was wrong. They get EVERYONE involved in a simple matter that could be resolved if both parties just sat down and talked to each other.
And giant disagreements? Forget about it! It's a no holds barred type of situation and that's when all of the real dirt (those secrets that you've been keeping for years) comes out to play. What's crazy though (we really should all have our heads checked) is that after we bring out the big guns and decimate our bond with that girl - we'll go running to her and reestablish our 'friendship' with her when one of the other members of the tribe do something to offend us. This not only causes great drama in the girl tribe, but also a vicious cycle riddled with vendettas, backstabbing, and paranoia.
I remember a lesson my father taught me long ago. He said, "three girls can never get together without one of them going home crying. Two girls? Fine. They'll play well with each other. Four girls? Great! No problemo! Three girls? No way! No how! Two girls will gang up on the third and it will always result in bad ju ju." He never let me have two girls over to our house at the same time. Never. I remember being so angry about it sometimes, but he was adamant - Never three girls together at once.
Now, as a woman who is perfectly capable of inviting as many people over as I want, I have learned over the years that my father was right. Sure, no one has EVER gone home crying and pouting, but there have been many kitchen secrets (you know, where two or more women huddle in the kitchen and talk smack on at least one woman in another room), pointed passive aggressive remarks, and obvious eye rolls and facial expressions.
WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES?!?!?
Now I'm not saying that we should adopt all of the male gender's attributes (the world would be a very un color coordinated and physical place), but when it comes to public relations and handling disputes - I think women could take a page out of The Man Book. So ladies, the next time one of the women in your tribe tries talking shit on another member, just say "Have you tried talking to her about this? I'm not a judge and can't tell you what's right or wrong. Only you can decide what's right and wrong for you." and leave it at that. If she still presses to talk about it, then just start talking about the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, NCIS, or Top Chef... That will get people thinking about other stuff. :)
Let's try to stop girl on girl violence, shall we?
Happy Saturday!
P.S. This isn't one of those posts that is stemming from any real place within my tribe (my tribe is pretty open and honest about things that are bothering them - in all honesty we kind of duke things out like men). To my tribe members - I love you and all of that. :) Don't know what I would do without you all. This is just coming from a place of things that I have observed and heard about happening in other people's tribes.
I mention this all because my tribe (aka my circle of friends) is mostly all female (most men don't want to sit around talking about Project Runway and why I am so deeply against Alex on Grey's Anatomy). I love my friends with every ounce of my being, but with an all female tribe, sometimes life gets a little hairy - to say the least.
One thing that men do that women don't (and that I'm highly envious of) is that men will come outright and tell you if they piss you off, have overstepped your bounds, or have broken one of the rules of The Man Code. They'll have a diplomatic discussion (most likely while watching or playing some sporting event) and that will be the end of it. If both parties still can't agree they will still play nice with each other, but will seek each other out to watch and play sporting events with less and less.
Women? Not so much. Women treat disagreements like warfare. There are secret lunches and shopping trips with allies to discuss the enemy's weaknesses (which can range from bad hair and sloppy dressing to chewing with her mouth open and bad parenting) and to plan a future plan of attack (ex: The next time I see her at the PTA meeting, I am so not going to say hello or sit by her. She knows what she did. How could she do that to me?!?!). Women need the reassurance of the rest of their tribe that what they did was right, and what the other person did was wrong. They get EVERYONE involved in a simple matter that could be resolved if both parties just sat down and talked to each other.
And giant disagreements? Forget about it! It's a no holds barred type of situation and that's when all of the real dirt (those secrets that you've been keeping for years) comes out to play. What's crazy though (we really should all have our heads checked) is that after we bring out the big guns and decimate our bond with that girl - we'll go running to her and reestablish our 'friendship' with her when one of the other members of the tribe do something to offend us. This not only causes great drama in the girl tribe, but also a vicious cycle riddled with vendettas, backstabbing, and paranoia.
I remember a lesson my father taught me long ago. He said, "three girls can never get together without one of them going home crying. Two girls? Fine. They'll play well with each other. Four girls? Great! No problemo! Three girls? No way! No how! Two girls will gang up on the third and it will always result in bad ju ju." He never let me have two girls over to our house at the same time. Never. I remember being so angry about it sometimes, but he was adamant - Never three girls together at once.
Now, as a woman who is perfectly capable of inviting as many people over as I want, I have learned over the years that my father was right. Sure, no one has EVER gone home crying and pouting, but there have been many kitchen secrets (you know, where two or more women huddle in the kitchen and talk smack on at least one woman in another room), pointed passive aggressive remarks, and obvious eye rolls and facial expressions.
WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES?!?!?
Now I'm not saying that we should adopt all of the male gender's attributes (the world would be a very un color coordinated and physical place), but when it comes to public relations and handling disputes - I think women could take a page out of The Man Book. So ladies, the next time one of the women in your tribe tries talking shit on another member, just say "Have you tried talking to her about this? I'm not a judge and can't tell you what's right or wrong. Only you can decide what's right and wrong for you." and leave it at that. If she still presses to talk about it, then just start talking about the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, NCIS, or Top Chef... That will get people thinking about other stuff. :)
Let's try to stop girl on girl violence, shall we?
Happy Saturday!
P.S. This isn't one of those posts that is stemming from any real place within my tribe (my tribe is pretty open and honest about things that are bothering them - in all honesty we kind of duke things out like men). To my tribe members - I love you and all of that. :) Don't know what I would do without you all. This is just coming from a place of things that I have observed and heard about happening in other people's tribes.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Mish Mosh
So it's been a few days since I have shared with you all, and let me say, what a couple of days! I laughed. I cleaned. I had a mental break down. I got my car inspected. I watched the news. I went to The Mecca (aka Starbucks). I introduced someone to Target and talked said person into buying a stand alone freezer... all things wonderful... well except for the mental break down part...
Today I have a lot to share - So, sit down. Grab a cup of cocoa. And get ready because HERE. WE. GO!
Let me just preface what I'm about to say with: I'm not an extremely emotional person. I tend to go into cynic, sarcastic mode before I take a walk on the wild emotional side. I'm better known for making fun of any and all with my big mouth (which I put my foot in quite frequently), not for being all warm and fuzzy and rainbows and butterflies (gag). Anyway. So imagine my surprise when I find myself sobbing (no, no. Not sniffles. Not slight bunny sniffs of sadness... But SOBS. Weeping, if you will. Red puffy eyes. Kleenex akimbo. Snot bubbles all over. Gasps of air. Horrible blinding cry headache. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.) in the middle of my bedroom floor on a perfectly pleasant Friday afternoon. Why, you ask, did I all of a sudden break down like Super Sweet 16 girl who found out that she wasn't getting the black BMW at her super fab party? I'll tell you why. Because I'm a hoarder. No, not one of those people that can't even open their front door, but an emotional hoarder - someone who hoards all of their emotions until there is not a single brain cell's worth of space left for anything else. And just as a house would collapse if it had too much stuff in it, so did my brain. :(
One thing that no one tells you about being unemployed is that it is an absolute roller coaster of emotions. One minute you're thrilled that you no longer have to work for Baggy Eyes The Terrible - the most insecure, unprofessional, whining, back stabbing, rude person that I have ever met in my entire life - and the next, questioning your self worth and whether or not Baggy Eyes The Terrible was really not Baggy Eyes The Terrible and that you were really Employee The Horrible and deserved what you got.
Now, granted, I did contribute to my unemployment because technically, I did put in a 2 weeks notice.... however what happened after was - a cluster fuck of gargantuan proportions you could say (I would love to divulge every last minuscule detail of how it came to be that I no longer have a job, but I can't. Upon leaving, I had to sign a contract that said that I would not speak of the company's foul doing in order to receive my severance package and the ability to receive unemployment compensation... fun, right? And momma's got bills to pay so my lips are zipped. Sort of. Hahaha). Losing your job takes such an emotional toll that it's no wonder that there is a whole How To section at Barnes and Noble on how to recover from the blow. So that's one room in my emotional hoarding house... That's a biggie - like the living room.
Other things that have been filling my emotionally hoarded house are: being hospitalized for 5 days with a month long recovery (adult mono is a bitch. I don't recommend you get it. Ever.) Gaining and losing the same 40 lbs about 3 times now. Having surgery to get my gall bladder removed because it got pissed off from the mono situation. Having to completely take care of my mother while I was recovering because she was having her own medical problems... (the woman is at the point now where she can barely walk from the living room to the bathroom...). Lose a friend that was like family due to stupid, idiotic, and mundane things. Separate from the Man Friend. Return to work from being on leave for a month and be ignored, disrespected, and downright lied to because of something that happened while I was away and still have no idea what happened. Have a brother who is doing EVERYTHING right and just landed an internship that will pay 3 times as much as I was making in my last position (it's not that I'm not happy for him. I really am. I'm so proud of him. I just can't help feeling like a little bit of a failure in comparison to his success).... And that just all of the stuff that has happened over the last 6 months - and I haven't emotionally dealt with any of it.
I have stored every single one of those things away. I haven't cried. I haven't asked for help. I haven't said a word to anyone about what's going on. I've just put on a happy faced and tried to laugh about it. Well, as they as say, the shit hit the fan on Friday. The piper came a callin' for his payin'. My over-stuffed, emotionally hoarded brain-house came tumbling down and it wasn't pretty.
The truth is though - that after weeping out all of my frustrations, second guesses, and lost causes, I felt better (yay!!). I felt lighter somehow and more relaxed about everything. Hope has been restored! After all of that emotional outpouring, I realized that I cannot change what has happened in the past. I can't take it back. I can't magically make it go away. I can't just push it all in a corner and deal with it another day. I have been emotionally procrastinating because I'm good at it. Hell - it's gotten me through 27 years of some pretty shitty stuff (super awful shitty if I'm being honest), but that method isn't working anymore and it sure isn't healthy.
It's not ok to always be ok. I think the hardest lesson that I've learned is that being strong isn't about just being able to say that you're still standing at the end of the day... Just standing isn't living. It isn't feeling. It isn't relishing in the world around you. So after I stopped weeping and cleaned myself up, I finished cleaning the physical spaces of my house. That is, after all, what I originally set out to do with my day. When I was all finished, I lit some candles, turned on the tv, and smiled because it just felt so good to be mentally and physically clutter-free. I don't recommend this cleaning method to anyone - having a good, loud sob session in the middle of the day is a good way to have the neighbors think you're a lunatic and look at you funny at your next neighborhood get together (thank god our neighborhood is as dead as a cemetery during the day or otherwise I would be reporting to you from a lovely padded cell at the nearest mental institution).
Listen, my lovelies, I know that last bit was heavy, but I never promised to be all sunshine and lollipops... so to all of my Daydream Believers - don't fret because here comes the silly!!!!
Today I have a lot to share - So, sit down. Grab a cup of cocoa. And get ready because HERE. WE. GO!
Let me just preface what I'm about to say with: I'm not an extremely emotional person. I tend to go into cynic, sarcastic mode before I take a walk on the wild emotional side. I'm better known for making fun of any and all with my big mouth (which I put my foot in quite frequently), not for being all warm and fuzzy and rainbows and butterflies (gag). Anyway. So imagine my surprise when I find myself sobbing (no, no. Not sniffles. Not slight bunny sniffs of sadness... But SOBS. Weeping, if you will. Red puffy eyes. Kleenex akimbo. Snot bubbles all over. Gasps of air. Horrible blinding cry headache. The. Whole. Nine. Yards.) in the middle of my bedroom floor on a perfectly pleasant Friday afternoon. Why, you ask, did I all of a sudden break down like Super Sweet 16 girl who found out that she wasn't getting the black BMW at her super fab party? I'll tell you why. Because I'm a hoarder. No, not one of those people that can't even open their front door, but an emotional hoarder - someone who hoards all of their emotions until there is not a single brain cell's worth of space left for anything else. And just as a house would collapse if it had too much stuff in it, so did my brain. :(
One thing that no one tells you about being unemployed is that it is an absolute roller coaster of emotions. One minute you're thrilled that you no longer have to work for Baggy Eyes The Terrible - the most insecure, unprofessional, whining, back stabbing, rude person that I have ever met in my entire life - and the next, questioning your self worth and whether or not Baggy Eyes The Terrible was really not Baggy Eyes The Terrible and that you were really Employee The Horrible and deserved what you got.
Now, granted, I did contribute to my unemployment because technically, I did put in a 2 weeks notice.... however what happened after was - a cluster fuck of gargantuan proportions you could say (I would love to divulge every last minuscule detail of how it came to be that I no longer have a job, but I can't. Upon leaving, I had to sign a contract that said that I would not speak of the company's foul doing in order to receive my severance package and the ability to receive unemployment compensation... fun, right? And momma's got bills to pay so my lips are zipped. Sort of. Hahaha). Losing your job takes such an emotional toll that it's no wonder that there is a whole How To section at Barnes and Noble on how to recover from the blow. So that's one room in my emotional hoarding house... That's a biggie - like the living room.
Other things that have been filling my emotionally hoarded house are: being hospitalized for 5 days with a month long recovery (adult mono is a bitch. I don't recommend you get it. Ever.) Gaining and losing the same 40 lbs about 3 times now. Having surgery to get my gall bladder removed because it got pissed off from the mono situation. Having to completely take care of my mother while I was recovering because she was having her own medical problems... (the woman is at the point now where she can barely walk from the living room to the bathroom...). Lose a friend that was like family due to stupid, idiotic, and mundane things. Separate from the Man Friend. Return to work from being on leave for a month and be ignored, disrespected, and downright lied to because of something that happened while I was away and still have no idea what happened. Have a brother who is doing EVERYTHING right and just landed an internship that will pay 3 times as much as I was making in my last position (it's not that I'm not happy for him. I really am. I'm so proud of him. I just can't help feeling like a little bit of a failure in comparison to his success).... And that just all of the stuff that has happened over the last 6 months - and I haven't emotionally dealt with any of it.
I have stored every single one of those things away. I haven't cried. I haven't asked for help. I haven't said a word to anyone about what's going on. I've just put on a happy faced and tried to laugh about it. Well, as they as say, the shit hit the fan on Friday. The piper came a callin' for his payin'. My over-stuffed, emotionally hoarded brain-house came tumbling down and it wasn't pretty.
The truth is though - that after weeping out all of my frustrations, second guesses, and lost causes, I felt better (yay!!). I felt lighter somehow and more relaxed about everything. Hope has been restored! After all of that emotional outpouring, I realized that I cannot change what has happened in the past. I can't take it back. I can't magically make it go away. I can't just push it all in a corner and deal with it another day. I have been emotionally procrastinating because I'm good at it. Hell - it's gotten me through 27 years of some pretty shitty stuff (super awful shitty if I'm being honest), but that method isn't working anymore and it sure isn't healthy.
It's not ok to always be ok. I think the hardest lesson that I've learned is that being strong isn't about just being able to say that you're still standing at the end of the day... Just standing isn't living. It isn't feeling. It isn't relishing in the world around you. So after I stopped weeping and cleaned myself up, I finished cleaning the physical spaces of my house. That is, after all, what I originally set out to do with my day. When I was all finished, I lit some candles, turned on the tv, and smiled because it just felt so good to be mentally and physically clutter-free. I don't recommend this cleaning method to anyone - having a good, loud sob session in the middle of the day is a good way to have the neighbors think you're a lunatic and look at you funny at your next neighborhood get together (thank god our neighborhood is as dead as a cemetery during the day or otherwise I would be reporting to you from a lovely padded cell at the nearest mental institution).
Listen, my lovelies, I know that last bit was heavy, but I never promised to be all sunshine and lollipops... so to all of my Daydream Believers - don't fret because here comes the silly!!!!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Wanted: A Charming Male Suitor.
Do you remember in the movie Practical Magic (you know, the one with Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman and Stockard Channing...witches...broomsticks..Ah Ha! I knew you'd get it!)? Well in that movie Sally Owens (Sandra Bullock) casts a spell for her perfect man and this is what she asks for:
Not too too out of the ordinary, right? I still think it's funny that she was so amazed that Bill existed... lots of men can flip pancakes and whistle and like stars and have eyes that are two slightly different colors...
Anyway.
With Halloween coming to a close (it's so hard to say good bye to Halloween for some reason...), I've decided to cast my own spell (and by cast my own spell - I mean put it out there on the internet for everyone to read) for my ideal man. And this is what I'm asking the universe for:
Sandra had a shorter list, but I'm a picky girl. I don't care what his favorite shape is (as long as it isn't a pentagram) and really have no preference as to what color his eyes are (as long as they aren't bloodshot or a creepy red color from alcohol/drug abuse and/or devil worship and/or albinoism). Alright. Time to crush some herbs and flowers together and blow them out into the wind... I hope oregano, nutmeg, and a piece from a spider plant will do because that's all this girl's got laying around...
With lots of love,
Happy Hump Day!
P.S. If you've been wondering how the 10k training has been going - let me tell you - it's a bitch. Breathing in cold air when huffing and puffing along is, in my book, close to torture. I tried jaunting on a treadmill, but have found that jaunting on a treadmill is different than jaunting in the great outdoors (not to mention Frau Millie can't jaunt at the gym. They deeply frown upon people bringing in trainers of a different species).
- He will hear my call a mile away.
- He will whistle my favorite song.
- He can ride a pony backwards.
- He can flip pancakes in the air.
- He'll be marvelously kind.
- His favorite shape will be a star.
- He'll have one green eye and one blue.
Not too too out of the ordinary, right? I still think it's funny that she was so amazed that Bill existed... lots of men can flip pancakes and whistle and like stars and have eyes that are two slightly different colors...
Anyway.
With Halloween coming to a close (it's so hard to say good bye to Halloween for some reason...), I've decided to cast my own spell (and by cast my own spell - I mean put it out there on the internet for everyone to read) for my ideal man. And this is what I'm asking the universe for:
- He will want to travel
- He will have a natural curiosity about life
- He will love to work with his hands
- He will have a tough exterior but a sensitive interior
- He can fix things without being a doofus about it
- He will be sensible about money
- He will have manners
- He will have ambition
- He can make things in the kitchen that I cannot
- He will be gentle
- He can open tightly closed jars and reach the highest of shelves
- He can kill the scariest of bugs and protect me from the ickiest of creatures
- And lastly, he will be smart but not arrogant and confident without being cocky
Sandra had a shorter list, but I'm a picky girl. I don't care what his favorite shape is (as long as it isn't a pentagram) and really have no preference as to what color his eyes are (as long as they aren't bloodshot or a creepy red color from alcohol/drug abuse and/or devil worship and/or albinoism). Alright. Time to crush some herbs and flowers together and blow them out into the wind... I hope oregano, nutmeg, and a piece from a spider plant will do because that's all this girl's got laying around...
With lots of love,
Happy Hump Day!
P.S. If you've been wondering how the 10k training has been going - let me tell you - it's a bitch. Breathing in cold air when huffing and puffing along is, in my book, close to torture. I tried jaunting on a treadmill, but have found that jaunting on a treadmill is different than jaunting in the great outdoors (not to mention Frau Millie can't jaunt at the gym. They deeply frown upon people bringing in trainers of a different species).
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Mooooo!!!!!
Forgive me Jackie Warner, for I have sinned.
Yesterday was all set to be a good day.
It was supposed to go like this:
7:30 - Wake up (beautifully and with birds chirping and woodland creatures eager to sing and dance)
7:31 - (after song and dance) Make my way to the coffee pot to get my Colombian fix and eat a Jackie Warner approved breakfast... perhaps oatmeal? An egg? Fruit? Pick one. Those are good choices.
8:15-9:30 - Start Laundry, Make my Fall Bed (warmer blankets... pretty autumnal hued sheets...), Launder and Put Away Summer Bed
9:30-10:00 - Shower and Get Ready to Leave for Hair Appointment (of course! I did my hair to get my hair done! I don't want Katie, The-Uber-Fantastic - my extremely talented hair professional - to think that I've been treating her work poorly... aka in a pony tail ALWAYS and letting my ends split from here to kingdom come)
10:20-12:30 - Magical Katie Hair Time
12:30 - Stare at Myself in the Mirror and See Glammed Up Self and LOVE IT!!!!!!
12:31-2:30 - Go Home, Switch Laundry, Eat a Jackie Warner Approved Lunch, Gather Frau Millie, and Go Jaunting Through the Park.
2:30 - Return Home, Finish Laundry, Run Dishwasher (I never run the dishwasher while I'm not home... a bad plastic lid burn experience has ruined me from trusting this machine ever again), Clean off Kitchen Table, Start Ridding Myself of Cluttery Chotchkies (good bye foam hand and potato heads :( )
5:00 - Empty Dishwasher, Start Packing for Chicago (ROAD TRIP WOOT WOOT)
6:00 - Go Over Father's House at his Request for Daughter-Father Bonding Time (which essentially means that we talk each other's ears off about all subjects under the sun and go eat somewhere - Jackie Warner approved of course!)
9:30 - Return Home. Complete Night Time Rituals. Watch Diary of a Wimpy Kid (Netflix is going to start getting annoyed for how long I've had it... I feel their judgement).
11:30 - Night Night.
Lovely day huh???? Sounds exciting and productive, right?
Here's how the day really went:
7:30 - Wake Up (no birds. no chirping. no woodland creatures.)
7:31 - Decide that I WAY Overestimated My Wake Up Time and Go Back to Bed (pffft. I can do all the stuff I planned in like 5 minutes....if I hurry)
9:30 - Peel Myself Out of Bed, Decide that laundry can wait another day and that my bed can be done later cause I thought I heard that it was supposed to get warm later this week and I don't want to get hot because I HATE to hot sleep (yeah. I didn't really believe it either, but I'm a very good negotiator and actress and when I give myself a valid argument - I have to listen. Because I'm that good)
10:20 - Arrive for Hair Appointment (I'm never late. Ever. For Spa Services. The last thing I want is to piss the person off who is going to be coloring my hair, performing my pedicure or doing my massage. Tardiness does not a good 'Girl Day' make.)
10:40 - Discuss Highlighting and Cut with Katie, The-Uber-Fantastic!!!
12:30 - Get the REVEAL (aka - put my glasses back on) and Make a GASP (in a bad way) Sound and Say, "oh....wow..." (just for the record - I said right-above-the-shoulder-bob and then showed EXACTLY the length that meant right-above-the-shoulder to me and pointed out ALL (3) of the colors that I wanted used in my hair... what I got is some flat My Life as Liz, Liz haircut and I'm pretty certain that she just foiled my head for no reason because I'll be damned if I can see any evidence of color usage) Katie, The-Deaf-and-Blind, is lucky I didn't go bananas on her ass. Deep Breaths. DEEP. BREATHS. Peace and Love In. Anger and the Ability to Murder Someone with Highlighting Tools Out.
12:31 - Pay for My New Life as Liz.
12:32 - Realize That I'm Starving Because I Didn't Eat My Jackie Warner Approved Breakfast
12:45 - Arrive Home and Call Out for an AMAZING Chicken Salad from the Local Pizza Joint (all of the Jackie Warners on my Jackie Warner Workout DVDs turn their heads and start to weep quietly) and say, "oh wait! Can you add a small sausage and pizza too?" (the Jackies are now consoling each other and are openly weeping and screaming, "WHY GOD?!?!" from their boxes)
2:00 - Finish the Salad (hahaha how is anything with ranch dressing, cheese, french fries, and chicken called a salad??) and a couple of slices of the sausage and cheese pizza.
2:02 - Decide that a nap would be just the thing to work off my full tummy
4:00 - Wake Up and Get Hooked on Daytime Tv
5:00 - Run the Dishwasher and Resume Daytime Tv Watching
6:00 - Go Over to Father's House (decline dinner due to a "big lunch")
11:30 - Go Home. Eat Icecream (OMG I found this new icecream that claimed to be exactly like Gelato... you know. Italian Gelato. The BEST icecream in THE WORLD. Don't get your panties in a twist though. Because it wasn't. Not even close. But I ate it anyway.) Crawl into Bed. And Die. (If you listen closely, you can still hear the Jackies quietly sobbing in the distance)
Happy Thursday!
Yesterday was all set to be a good day.
It was supposed to go like this:
7:30 - Wake up (beautifully and with birds chirping and woodland creatures eager to sing and dance)
7:31 - (after song and dance) Make my way to the coffee pot to get my Colombian fix and eat a Jackie Warner approved breakfast... perhaps oatmeal? An egg? Fruit? Pick one. Those are good choices.
8:15-9:30 - Start Laundry, Make my Fall Bed (warmer blankets... pretty autumnal hued sheets...), Launder and Put Away Summer Bed
9:30-10:00 - Shower and Get Ready to Leave for Hair Appointment (of course! I did my hair to get my hair done! I don't want Katie, The-Uber-Fantastic - my extremely talented hair professional - to think that I've been treating her work poorly... aka in a pony tail ALWAYS and letting my ends split from here to kingdom come)
10:20-12:30 - Magical Katie Hair Time
12:30 - Stare at Myself in the Mirror and See Glammed Up Self and LOVE IT!!!!!!
12:31-2:30 - Go Home, Switch Laundry, Eat a Jackie Warner Approved Lunch, Gather Frau Millie, and Go Jaunting Through the Park.
2:30 - Return Home, Finish Laundry, Run Dishwasher (I never run the dishwasher while I'm not home... a bad plastic lid burn experience has ruined me from trusting this machine ever again), Clean off Kitchen Table, Start Ridding Myself of Cluttery Chotchkies (good bye foam hand and potato heads :( )
5:00 - Empty Dishwasher, Start Packing for Chicago (ROAD TRIP WOOT WOOT)
6:00 - Go Over Father's House at his Request for Daughter-Father Bonding Time (which essentially means that we talk each other's ears off about all subjects under the sun and go eat somewhere - Jackie Warner approved of course!)
9:30 - Return Home. Complete Night Time Rituals. Watch Diary of a Wimpy Kid (Netflix is going to start getting annoyed for how long I've had it... I feel their judgement).
11:30 - Night Night.
Lovely day huh???? Sounds exciting and productive, right?
Here's how the day really went:
7:30 - Wake Up (no birds. no chirping. no woodland creatures.)
7:31 - Decide that I WAY Overestimated My Wake Up Time and Go Back to Bed (pffft. I can do all the stuff I planned in like 5 minutes....if I hurry)
9:30 - Peel Myself Out of Bed, Decide that laundry can wait another day and that my bed can be done later cause I thought I heard that it was supposed to get warm later this week and I don't want to get hot because I HATE to hot sleep (yeah. I didn't really believe it either, but I'm a very good negotiator and actress and when I give myself a valid argument - I have to listen. Because I'm that good)
10:20 - Arrive for Hair Appointment (I'm never late. Ever. For Spa Services. The last thing I want is to piss the person off who is going to be coloring my hair, performing my pedicure or doing my massage. Tardiness does not a good 'Girl Day' make.)
10:40 - Discuss Highlighting and Cut with Katie, The-Uber-Fantastic!!!
12:30 - Get the REVEAL (aka - put my glasses back on) and Make a GASP (in a bad way) Sound and Say, "oh....wow..." (just for the record - I said right-above-the-shoulder-bob and then showed EXACTLY the length that meant right-above-the-shoulder to me and pointed out ALL (3) of the colors that I wanted used in my hair... what I got is some flat My Life as Liz, Liz haircut and I'm pretty certain that she just foiled my head for no reason because I'll be damned if I can see any evidence of color usage) Katie, The-Deaf-and-Blind, is lucky I didn't go bananas on her ass. Deep Breaths. DEEP. BREATHS. Peace and Love In. Anger and the Ability to Murder Someone with Highlighting Tools Out.
12:31 - Pay for My New Life as Liz.
12:32 - Realize That I'm Starving Because I Didn't Eat My Jackie Warner Approved Breakfast
12:45 - Arrive Home and Call Out for an AMAZING Chicken Salad from the Local Pizza Joint (all of the Jackie Warners on my Jackie Warner Workout DVDs turn their heads and start to weep quietly) and say, "oh wait! Can you add a small sausage and pizza too?" (the Jackies are now consoling each other and are openly weeping and screaming, "WHY GOD?!?!" from their boxes)
2:00 - Finish the Salad (hahaha how is anything with ranch dressing, cheese, french fries, and chicken called a salad??) and a couple of slices of the sausage and cheese pizza.
2:02 - Decide that a nap would be just the thing to work off my full tummy
4:00 - Wake Up and Get Hooked on Daytime Tv
5:00 - Run the Dishwasher and Resume Daytime Tv Watching
6:00 - Go Over to Father's House (decline dinner due to a "big lunch")
11:30 - Go Home. Eat Icecream (OMG I found this new icecream that claimed to be exactly like Gelato... you know. Italian Gelato. The BEST icecream in THE WORLD. Don't get your panties in a twist though. Because it wasn't. Not even close. But I ate it anyway.) Crawl into Bed. And Die. (If you listen closely, you can still hear the Jackies quietly sobbing in the distance)
Happy Thursday!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Mr. Clean! Mr. Clean!
I went to bed last night with a goal: to rid myself of clutter (this always happens after I watch an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive!). But now that it's time to set to work, I kinda just wanna go watch some Ellen and let all of my useless chotchkies live for another day. I mean, come on, that giant Rock On Bowling for Soup Foam Rock On Hand isn't hurting anyone while it's perched on a dresser. Those KISS Mr. Potato Heads still in their box? Definitely essential to my well-being and life, right? The yoga mat that's been sitting in it's plastic for 4 years (don't give those eyes!) in the trunk of my car (yes, in my trunk probably giving off cancerous fumes as it baked in the summer sun time and time again). You never know when an impromptu yoga session will come about, and I would hate to be without my [favorite] mat (hahaha it sounds ridiculous to me too).
*sigh*
I know.
I know!
Sheesh! I hear you! Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok
O...K
I'm on it. As soon as I'm done posting this message for all of you lovelies, I'll get to it.
Maybe.
Well, you see, it's raining outside. And no one wants to start lugging bags of their precious belongings to give to Goodwill in the rain. It's a fact. No one. Not even the Hoarders that have bugs crawling around in their favorite coffee cups, beds, etc. Even they can live with their...disease... for another day. And just for the record, I'm am definitely not at HOARDER LEVEL MAXIMUS. I sit, with all of my wax figurines from Michigan and squished penny collection, at CROWDED SHELF LEVEL - which is still in the SAFE-TO-HAVE-PEOPLE-OVER-WITHOUT-THEM-VOMITING-OR-RUNNING-AWAY-IN-REVULSION REALM.
Dang you Hoarders: Buried Alive for once again inspiring me to declutter only to be faced with environmental road blocks (like rain and power outages... I swear my electricity just went out as I was typing environmental road blocks... I swear. Well played, Great Being. Well played.). Anyway! So now I have to go reset all of the clocks in the house and perhaps circle the property for unsightly twigs and branches and then drink a cup of tea because I'll be cold when I come back in and then go on a hunt for my 'winter socks' because my feet will be cold and the tea will not warm them and then curl up in my snuggie to readjust to my body temperature and while doing that, turn on The Price is Right so that I can practice my price honing skillz just in case I should ever be invited to 'Come on Down!!!!'. Afterall - I would hate to waste time and let the day melt away from under me.
Ciao!
P.S. When is Starbucks going to come out with the signature hot chocolates?!?!? I am jonesing for that salted chocolate drink.
*sigh*
I know.
I know!
Sheesh! I hear you! Ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok
O...K
I'm on it. As soon as I'm done posting this message for all of you lovelies, I'll get to it.
Maybe.
Well, you see, it's raining outside. And no one wants to start lugging bags of their precious belongings to give to Goodwill in the rain. It's a fact. No one. Not even the Hoarders that have bugs crawling around in their favorite coffee cups, beds, etc. Even they can live with their...disease... for another day. And just for the record, I'm am definitely not at HOARDER LEVEL MAXIMUS. I sit, with all of my wax figurines from Michigan and squished penny collection, at CROWDED SHELF LEVEL - which is still in the SAFE-TO-HAVE-PEOPLE-OVER-WITHOUT-THEM-VOMITING-OR-RUNNING-AWAY-IN-REVULSION REALM.
Dang you Hoarders: Buried Alive for once again inspiring me to declutter only to be faced with environmental road blocks (like rain and power outages... I swear my electricity just went out as I was typing environmental road blocks... I swear. Well played, Great Being. Well played.). Anyway! So now I have to go reset all of the clocks in the house and perhaps circle the property for unsightly twigs and branches and then drink a cup of tea because I'll be cold when I come back in and then go on a hunt for my 'winter socks' because my feet will be cold and the tea will not warm them and then curl up in my snuggie to readjust to my body temperature and while doing that, turn on The Price is Right so that I can practice my price honing skillz just in case I should ever be invited to 'Come on Down!!!!'. Afterall - I would hate to waste time and let the day melt away from under me.
Ciao!
P.S. When is Starbucks going to come out with the signature hot chocolates?!?!? I am jonesing for that salted chocolate drink.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Frau Millie
So as I mentioned earlier - I'm "training" for a 10k. HAHAHAHA I know. I think it's pretty hilarious too. I still can't believe that I've committed myself to doing something so... ... ... athletic. I'm just not that girl, you see. When other girls were playing softball or being intense about dance or cross country or whatever - I was busy doing my nails, perfecting my mad bang cutting skillz (oh how I got em!), and on a quest to find the perfect outfit to accessory ratio. All of which don't require much athletic ability, but did leave me gloriously quaffed, fluffed, and puffed. Yay!
So knowing myself all to well and my attraction to all things 'oh so pretty!' - I've enlisted the help of one, Frau Millie. She has a lot of the same qualities as Jackie Warner (minus her liking for other females - I think). She is tireless, has a killer body, doesn't take no for an answer, always works out to intensity, and has somewhat of a nurturing streak while trying to torture you.
Without further delay, it is my honor to introduce Frau Millie:
She may only be 8 lbs, but she knows how to workout. Hard. Yesterday, her and I went on a 2 mile jaunt through a park near my house. She literally would go as far her leash would allow (without strangling her) and then wait for me to catch up only to run off as soon as I got to her. Think of a 2 mile game of tag... with me being the only one who was 'it'. Today we plan to do it again, only faster.............(Yikes!!!).............and accompanied by an incredible ab work out.........(OWIE!!!).........
The Frau has spotted me typing and not warming up! Got to go before I need to give her 20 more!!!
Ciao for now!
P.S. Remember the pancakes that I said I was going to have the other day?
So knowing myself all to well and my attraction to all things 'oh so pretty!' - I've enlisted the help of one, Frau Millie. She has a lot of the same qualities as Jackie Warner (minus her liking for other females - I think). She is tireless, has a killer body, doesn't take no for an answer, always works out to intensity, and has somewhat of a nurturing streak while trying to torture you.
Without further delay, it is my honor to introduce Frau Millie:
 | ||
| Frau preparing for our ab workout. She said that only 'fit' people get to lay in the sun while doing it... Meanie. |
 | |||
| "Time to workout!!!!!" She said with maniacal laughter |
 |
| "You call that 'to intensity'?!?!?! I can't even look at you, you slow poke!" |
She may only be 8 lbs, but she knows how to workout. Hard. Yesterday, her and I went on a 2 mile jaunt through a park near my house. She literally would go as far her leash would allow (without strangling her) and then wait for me to catch up only to run off as soon as I got to her. Think of a 2 mile game of tag... with me being the only one who was 'it'. Today we plan to do it again, only faster.............(Yikes!!!).............and accompanied by an incredible ab work out.........(OWIE!!!).........
OH NO!
The Frau has spotted me typing and not warming up! Got to go before I need to give her 20 more!!!
Ciao for now!
P.S. Remember the pancakes that I said I was going to have the other day?
These are them:
 |
| The 'lady's' stack..... Imagine what the 'mancakes' look like!?! |
and I only at 2. :)
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Housewives of....
Oh how I love me a good dosage of Housewives! All week I have been waiting for The Real Housewives of DC Reunion Part 2. Part 1 was insane. Part 2, I imagine, is going to be like watching feeding time at the zoo. Michaele and Tareq don't even stand a chance! Not a single, itty bitty chance. And I swear if he does that annoying pucker lip thing tonight, I'm going through the tv Willy Wonka style to let him know that only models, Lisa Rinna, and Angelina Jolie can purse their lips together and make it look normal. When normal people do it, we look stupid. Super stupid. Amazingly brain cell deficient.
Anyway - back to the Housewives!
Isn't it funny to think that when The Real Housewives of Orange County appeared we thought that they were scandalous and crazy???? Oh how we were wrong!!! I think we have built our reality tv tolerance up so high that unless these bitches are downright screaming at each other and flipping tables, we aren't interested anymore. For example, today Bravo was airing all of the previous Housewives' Reunion specials and when I heard the OC group snip and snap at each other - it didn't quite have the bite that I like when I'm watching The Housewives.
I mean, come on. Sladefornicating dating 3 housewives? Eh. Happy Herpes! The women talking about all of the work they haven't had done to their faces and bodies? Ladies, you'll never be pretty enough if you don't start loving yourself first (and btw - EVERYONE knows that you've had work done. You don't get the large chested, high cheeked, bloated lip, pinched nose, mile high eyebrow look without some major anesthesia). Most of the families bragging about how much they have and spending TONS of money on stupid stupid things and then declaring bankruptcy? Pffft. Old news and pay your bleeping bills like most everyone else on the planet.
I think Bravo! should think outside the box and start featuring REAL housewives. Like The Real Housewives of Some Village in Africa... don't you think it would be mesmerizing to watch all of the housewives slaughtering guinea pigs and using their blood as make up?? Or how about The Real Housewives of 8 Mile? I'm sure it would be riveting to watch those bitches smack a ho or teach their children about how to get the perfect combination of gin and juice. I cannot wait! I'm going to call Andy Cohen and pitch him my ideas.
Alright! Got to go! Time to get my pitch on!
May I present, exhibits 1, 2, and 3.
And just to prove that I'm not the only one who thinks pursed or puckered lips look stupid - go to The Puckered Lips - verry funny!
Isn't it funny to think that when The Real Housewives of Orange County appeared we thought that they were scandalous and crazy???? Oh how we were wrong!!! I think we have built our reality tv tolerance up so high that unless these bitches are downright screaming at each other and flipping tables, we aren't interested anymore. For example, today Bravo was airing all of the previous Housewives' Reunion specials and when I heard the OC group snip and snap at each other - it didn't quite have the bite that I like when I'm watching The Housewives.
I mean, come on. Slade
I think Bravo! should think outside the box and start featuring REAL housewives. Like The Real Housewives of Some Village in Africa... don't you think it would be mesmerizing to watch all of the housewives slaughtering guinea pigs and using their blood as make up?? Or how about The Real Housewives of 8 Mile? I'm sure it would be riveting to watch those bitches smack a ho or teach their children about how to get the perfect combination of gin and juice. I cannot wait! I'm going to call Andy Cohen and pitch him my ideas.
Alright! Got to go! Time to get my pitch on!
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Legally (Strawberry) Blonde
"Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. What? They just don't!"
So the last time we spoke (aka I posted), I was feeling quite down on myself. I know that age is just a number. I know that how you feel inside is more important than the number on your driver's license. I know that I should look at the glass as half full because I have a lot to be thankful for... but at that time - that number was plaguing my soul. I felt a million years old. And it was hard to be thankful for anything cause all I could see were my newly procured crows feet in my 10X mirror. I have come to the conclusion that NO ONE should see themselves that up close and personal. From now on, I'm standing 3 feet back from my bathroom mirror and only looking getting the Monet version of myself. Yay!
Anyway - this blog has a point - I think - so I should get to it.
In my last blog I whined about not having enough carpe diem in my life, and how in my 27th year, I was going to get this Unemployed Diva out of her comfort zone and try some new things... Aftermany alcoholic beverages much consideration, I have decided that I am going to start training for a 10k. That's 6.2 miles people. Now let's not forget that I am... shall we say... not a natural runner.
Ok.
Fine.
I'm more prone to sit on the couch with some Ben and/or Jerry watching Housewives (any of them!) than eating carrot sticks and drinking water to cool myself off after an intense workout.
But here I am. And this is my new goal. So as of tomorrow - I'm gonna be following this schedule:
And how do you know that I'm going to stick to this schedule??? Well I printed it out, yo. And if I took the time to print it out, it must be important, right??? Right!
Alright time to go have a hub cap sized pancake at our favorite local breakfast joint. :) Don't runners carb up before their big race?? I think I might have to do some more research so I don't kill myself or pop a lung in this process. hahahaha.
Happy Sunday!
So the last time we spoke (aka I posted), I was feeling quite down on myself. I know that age is just a number. I know that how you feel inside is more important than the number on your driver's license. I know that I should look at the glass as half full because I have a lot to be thankful for... but at that time - that number was plaguing my soul. I felt a million years old. And it was hard to be thankful for anything cause all I could see were my newly procured crows feet in my 10X mirror. I have come to the conclusion that NO ONE should see themselves that up close and personal. From now on, I'm standing 3 feet back from my bathroom mirror and only looking getting the Monet version of myself. Yay!
Anyway - this blog has a point - I think - so I should get to it.
In my last blog I whined about not having enough carpe diem in my life, and how in my 27th year, I was going to get this Unemployed Diva out of her comfort zone and try some new things... After
Ok.
Fine.
I'm more prone to sit on the couch with some Ben and/or Jerry watching Housewives (any of them!) than eating carrot sticks and drinking water to cool myself off after an intense workout.
But here I am. And this is my new goal. So as of tomorrow - I'm gonna be following this schedule:
Beginner Runners' 10K Training Schedule
| Week | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday | Sunday |
| 1 | Rest | 1.5 m run | CT or Rest | 1.5 m run | Rest | 2 m run | 25-30 min EZ |
| 2 | Rest | 2 m run | CT or Rest | 2 m run | Rest | 2.5 m run | 25-30 min EZ |
| 3 | Rest | 2.5 mi run | CT or Rest | 2 m run | Rest | 3 m run | 30-35 min EZ |
| 4 | Rest | 2.5 m run | CT or Rest | 2 m run | Rest | 3.5 m run | 35 min EZ |
| 5 | Rest | 3 m run | CT or Rest | 2.5 m run | Rest | 4 m run | 35-40 min EZ |
| 6 | Rest | 3 m run | CT | 2.5 m run | Rest | 4.5 m run | 35-40 min EZ |
| 7 | Rest | 3.5 m run | CT | 3 m run | Rest | 5 m run | 40 min EZ |
| 8 | Rest | 3 m run | CT or Rest | 2 m run | Rest | Rest | 10K Race |
http://running.about.com/od/racetraining/a/10Kbeginner.htm
And how do you know that I'm going to stick to this schedule??? Well I printed it out, yo. And if I took the time to print it out, it must be important, right??? Right!
Alright time to go have a hub cap sized pancake at our favorite local breakfast joint. :) Don't runners carb up before their big race?? I think I might have to do some more research so I don't kill myself or pop a lung in this process. hahahaha.
Happy Sunday!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Another Year Wiser
I vividly remember when I was 16 thinking about how my life was going to look when I was older... (to 25 and BEYOND!) At 16, I thought that by my age now, I would have been finished with college, thinner (read: waif sized), and well on my way to starting a family... As 27 looms a mere 1 and a half hours away, I can't help but think how I've disappointed myself.
It's not that I'm not happy with some of the things that I have accomplished in these past 11 years... it's just that I wish that I had accomplished more. I'm sad because I have not seized the day. There has been a major lack of carpe diem in this Unemployed Diva's life.
I realize now that I have spent most of my life living in fear.
As children, fear wasn't really an option... We plowed through life jubilant and carefree. We took risks and made mistakes, and that was ok, because tomorrow was a new adventure. Tomorrow! Was another opportunity to try again.
Over this next year, instead of acting more like a grown up, I'm going to try and act more like a child. I'm going to seize the day and not let fear paralyze me. So tomorrow, on my 27th birthday, I'm going to do at least one thing that takes me out of my comfort zone to start this new year off right... I have no idea what that is now, but I'll keep you posted. :)
It's not that I'm not happy with some of the things that I have accomplished in these past 11 years... it's just that I wish that I had accomplished more. I'm sad because I have not seized the day. There has been a major lack of carpe diem in this Unemployed Diva's life.
I realize now that I have spent most of my life living in fear.
- Fear of disappointing people.
- Fear of others' judgement and criticism.
- Fear of failing.
- Fear of losing people.
- Fear of stepping outside of my comfort zone.
- Fear of saying how I really feel.
- Fear of letting people in.
- Fear of being too much or the complete opposite of not enough.
As children, fear wasn't really an option... We plowed through life jubilant and carefree. We took risks and made mistakes, and that was ok, because tomorrow was a new adventure. Tomorrow! Was another opportunity to try again.
Over this next year, instead of acting more like a grown up, I'm going to try and act more like a child. I'm going to seize the day and not let fear paralyze me. So tomorrow, on my 27th birthday, I'm going to do at least one thing that takes me out of my comfort zone to start this new year off right... I have no idea what that is now, but I'll keep you posted. :)
Perhaps I'll:
Thank you DC Skydiving Center for the photo
Go skydiving?!?
Thank you Studios W10 for the photo
Take a pole dancing class?!?
Thank you dailynews.com for the photo
Start training for a 10k?!?
Glory be! I have some decision makin' to do!
Now it's time for bed before I change my mind and delete this whole post!!!
Hahaha!
I would never!
Ok.
I might.
But.
Not today.
:)
Saturday, October 9, 2010
DNA Follies
Sharon: Those drivers are all whistledicks!!!! Tell them to move! Especially that one.
Me: Calm down! And what's up with... (long pause as I contemplate really breaching this subject with my mother) you and whistledicks today??? This is like the 4th time you've said it in an hour. Is 'whistledick'' (pronounced with extra pronunciation this time) your new word???
Sharon: No. Whistledick. Is. Not. My. New. Word. Insert my Full. Name. Here.
Me: Oh. Ok. Just wondering.
:::Uncomfortably Long Silence:::
Sharon: 'Jackass' is!!!
Me: 'Jackass'... is... what?
Sharon: My new word (said in a tone implying that I'm new here and I should have known exactly what she was talking about DUH).
Me: Oh.
:::Uncomfortably Long Silence Take 2:::
Me: Well you know that 'jackass' isn't a new word, right? It's been around awhile....
Sharon: God Dammit! My Full Name Here!!!!!!! Mind your own business.
And this is why, friends, that I hesitate procreating.... if there is any chance that I will turn into that or produce something like that, I think I would rather take my chances with small animals and imaginary friends....... Imagine what she's going to be like when she hits old old age???? Yeeesh.
Me: Calm down! And what's up with... (long pause as I contemplate really breaching this subject with my mother) you and whistledicks today??? This is like the 4th time you've said it in an hour. Is 'whistledick'' (pronounced with extra pronunciation this time) your new word???
Sharon: No. Whistledick. Is. Not. My. New. Word. Insert my Full. Name. Here.
Me: Oh. Ok. Just wondering.
:::Uncomfortably Long Silence:::
Sharon: 'Jackass' is!!!
Me: 'Jackass'... is... what?
Sharon: My new word (said in a tone implying that I'm new here and I should have known exactly what she was talking about DUH).
Me: Oh.
:::Uncomfortably Long Silence Take 2:::
Me: Well you know that 'jackass' isn't a new word, right? It's been around awhile....
Sharon: God Dammit! My Full Name Here!!!!!!! Mind your own business.
And this is why, friends, that I hesitate procreating.... if there is any chance that I will turn into that or produce something like that, I think I would rather take my chances with small animals and imaginary friends....... Imagine what she's going to be like when she hits old old age???? Yeeesh.
Happy Saturday!!!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Darn You Nectar of the Gods!
Hello. My name is The Unemployed Diva. And I have a problem.
It all started a week ago. The fall weather flourishing... my comfy autumnal hued sweater on (accompanied with a pair of jeans that has been plaguing me but fit amazingly that day) and perfectly accessorized... hair beautifully quaffed... make-up applied to accentuate my hazelish eyes and cherubic face... I decided that the only thing that could make that day anymore wonderful was to stop by my local Barstucks (hahaha) and partake in a autumnal coffee drink. Oh how naive I was!!!!!!!!!
You see, back in my employed days, I was quite the Barstucks aficionado. I would visit The Temple of Coffee at least 4 times a week... In my unemployed status, I have tried to cut some of my luxuries (specialty coffee, manicures, pedicures, highlights, EYEBROW WAXING) to make the American Dollar go a bit further. It saddens me to say, but it's been almost 3 months since the last time I went to The Mecca.
When I walked in my senses went into overload. All of a sudden, I was a kid in the candy story, but taller and with my own atm card. In my fit of bliss, I ordered 2 drinks and a pumpkin scone. Forgive me Jackie Warner, for I have sinned as I'm pretty sure that none of that is considered "clean eating" and condoned by her. I think I would be able to forgive myself if I stopped there, but the problems started AFTER I drank the heaven in the 2 perfectly designed recycled paper cups and ate the pumpkin scone. The next morning I awoke with a jonesing like no other. Seriously, people. I'm pretty certain that only crackheads and meth addicts know the jonesing that I'm talking about. It was so bad that I pleaded with the Manfiriend to pull over at the nearest coffee dispenser (a GAS STATION!!!) so that I could get a fix.
The shame meter went to a new high that day.
To be clear - it's not getting coffee from a gas station that I'm ashamed of. There is a lot of good coffee out there served in gas stations. It's the fact that I asked him to pull over to a gas station when we did not need gas and used a voice and tone similar to one that a twitching, sniffing junkie would use when trying to score their next hit.
Darn you Barstucks! and your delicious coffee laced with caramel and toffee and mocha and nutmeg sprinkled on top!
As of today the shakes have stopped, but I'm considering going into some kind of recovery program so that innocent bystanders - Manfriend included - don't get hurt by my coffee ways.
With my fingers crossed, let's hope for the best, shall we?
It all started a week ago. The fall weather flourishing... my comfy autumnal hued sweater on (accompanied with a pair of jeans that has been plaguing me but fit amazingly that day) and perfectly accessorized... hair beautifully quaffed... make-up applied to accentuate my hazelish eyes and cherubic face... I decided that the only thing that could make that day anymore wonderful was to stop by my local Barstucks (hahaha) and partake in a autumnal coffee drink. Oh how naive I was!!!!!!!!!
You see, back in my employed days, I was quite the Barstucks aficionado. I would visit The Temple of Coffee at least 4 times a week... In my unemployed status, I have tried to cut some of my luxuries (specialty coffee, manicures, pedicures, highlights, EYEBROW WAXING) to make the American Dollar go a bit further. It saddens me to say, but it's been almost 3 months since the last time I went to The Mecca.
When I walked in my senses went into overload. All of a sudden, I was a kid in the candy story, but taller and with my own atm card. In my fit of bliss, I ordered 2 drinks and a pumpkin scone. Forgive me Jackie Warner, for I have sinned as I'm pretty sure that none of that is considered "clean eating" and condoned by her. I think I would be able to forgive myself if I stopped there, but the problems started AFTER I drank the heaven in the 2 perfectly designed recycled paper cups and ate the pumpkin scone. The next morning I awoke with a jonesing like no other. Seriously, people. I'm pretty certain that only crackheads and meth addicts know the jonesing that I'm talking about. It was so bad that I pleaded with the Manfiriend to pull over at the nearest coffee dispenser (a GAS STATION!!!) so that I could get a fix.
The shame meter went to a new high that day.
To be clear - it's not getting coffee from a gas station that I'm ashamed of. There is a lot of good coffee out there served in gas stations. It's the fact that I asked him to pull over to a gas station when we did not need gas and used a voice and tone similar to one that a twitching, sniffing junkie would use when trying to score their next hit.
Darn you Barstucks! and your delicious coffee laced with caramel and toffee and mocha and nutmeg sprinkled on top!
As of today the shakes have stopped, but I'm considering going into some kind of recovery program so that innocent bystanders - Manfriend included - don't get hurt by my coffee ways.
With my fingers crossed, let's hope for the best, shall we?
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Dear God,
Make me a bird so I can fly far far away from here.
I don't know what's in the air these days, but I'm starting to think that Jenny (of Forrest Gump fame) had it right. She wanted to be a bird. To fly, far, far away. From here. Granted, she was being abused by her father and had Forest as her only friend, but the general gist feels so right, right now. I would love to take off and just fly away. Perhaps return to Italy and spend a countless number of days eating and climbing steps (the Italians had to find some way to burn off all of those carbs...) Some (trained professionals) would argue that these flight instincts are my body's way of avoiding some topics.... Pfffft! Now what would I want to avoid????? The fact that I am unemployed? Am still living with my mother who is crazy as a loon (honestly folks... certifiably crazy)? Am quickly reaching a level of cynicism Dr. House worthy?And am currently eating my way through my unemployment which is causing me to... perhaps... avoid wearing my usual confident diva garb and choose pajamas and oversized t-shirts? Pffft. Nothing to avoid there. haha.
The truth, my internet friends, is that while I never defined myself as my career, I did put a certain value on what I did for a living. I felt useful and needed and now, not so much. Deep down I know that I have more value than what I did and what I will go into next. At this very moment though, it's hard to see past it all. Super hard in fact to overcome the feeling that I am now somehow damaged goods and without a purpose.
Wait a minute? What's that I hear? The world's tiniest violin playing me tune? Yup.
I guess the only thing I can do is try to turn my frown upside down and find one thing to be thankful for today - because as we know (from daytime tv), that it could be SO MUCH WORSE... So, I leave you with this: Today I am thankful for Judge Milian because she rules fairly and does it with her latina gold hoops in and nails done every time.
I don't know what's in the air these days, but I'm starting to think that Jenny (of Forrest Gump fame) had it right. She wanted to be a bird. To fly, far, far away. From here. Granted, she was being abused by her father and had Forest as her only friend, but the general gist feels so right, right now. I would love to take off and just fly away. Perhaps return to Italy and spend a countless number of days eating and climbing steps (the Italians had to find some way to burn off all of those carbs...) Some (trained professionals) would argue that these flight instincts are my body's way of avoiding some topics.... Pfffft! Now what would I want to avoid????? The fact that I am unemployed? Am still living with my mother who is crazy as a loon (honestly folks... certifiably crazy)? Am quickly reaching a level of cynicism Dr. House worthy?And am currently eating my way through my unemployment which is causing me to... perhaps... avoid wearing my usual confident diva garb and choose pajamas and oversized t-shirts? Pffft. Nothing to avoid there. haha.
The truth, my internet friends, is that while I never defined myself as my career, I did put a certain value on what I did for a living. I felt useful and needed and now, not so much. Deep down I know that I have more value than what I did and what I will go into next. At this very moment though, it's hard to see past it all. Super hard in fact to overcome the feeling that I am now somehow damaged goods and without a purpose.
Wait a minute? What's that I hear? The world's tiniest violin playing me tune? Yup.
I guess the only thing I can do is try to turn my frown upside down and find one thing to be thankful for today - because as we know (from daytime tv), that it could be SO MUCH WORSE... So, I leave you with this: Today I am thankful for Judge Milian because she rules fairly and does it with her latina gold hoops in and nails done every time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)