31 December 2008
Tonight you're falling in love
Let me go now
This feeling's tearing me up
Here we go now
~ “Shake It” by Metro Station
Last night, after my second job, I went to the sports bar next door where I go every Tuesday night. I ordered a Sam Adams Boston Lager (in a glass) and asked for a menu. Normally, I don’t ask for the menu; but I was damn hungry and the thought of fast food turned my stomach. I always sit at the bar, so I can chat with “Bartender Bob” and “Pretty One”, my brother’s girlfriend. The guy sitting next to me was kind of chatty (and kind of intoxicated) so I was lucky enough to hear the history of Duck Tape.
The Duck Tape story was not as random as one would think, since the guy had a roll of Duck Tape sitting on the bar in front of him. I usually distance myself from guys who bring Duck Tape into social settings; however, I was among friends, so I wasn’t too worried. He explained that he used the tape to “fix” the door until he could come back and actually “repair” it. It seemed like a plausible explanation. Then he kept talking – and shared the entire history of Duck Tape which can be summarized as this – Defense Dept contacted 3M during the Vietnam Conflict – water beads off Duck Tape like Water on Duck’s Back – Air Condition Repair People Changed the Name to Duct Tape – and now you know the rest of the story. . . in response to his story, I asked him a question that was presented to me earlier in the evening, which was, “What did Plato really mean when he was talking about the type of love which we now refer to as ‘platonic’”? Watching a drunk person attempt to articulate a philosophical response is quite amusing. In essence, though, he knew the answer, which was non-homoerotic love for a fellow Greek.
As he is explaining this information, my friend, ‘Mr. Amazing’, walks into the place. Here is where the night got interesting. ‘Duck Tape Guy’ looks at me waving, and then looks at ‘Mr. A’ and glares. Not an annoyed look – but an all-out EVIL EYE GLARE! He then watched ‘Mr. A’ sit down next to me, called “Bartender Bob” over, asked for his tab, signed it quickly, grabbed his coat and stormed out. I called out a “see ya later”, which I know he heard – but he didn’t respond. I then turned to ‘Mr. A’ who was laughing apologetically. I was way confused by the change in attitude, as I hadn’t been encouraging him beyond agreeing to hear his silly Duck Tape story.
The rest of the evening was the norm, two friends hanging at the bar, talking to ‘Bartender Bob’, ‘Pretty One’ and even my brother who came over for a while. ‘Mr. A’ left early, as he had cooler people to see (hee hee). I was home before 10:30, and in bed by 10:45.
PUBLIC NOTE: Tonight is New Years Eve. Please celebrate responsibly; stay out of jail, the hospital, and the morgue!
PERSONAL NOTE: Have fun playing in the sheds tonight!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: You are going to realize just how much of a nerd I am when you see the research I did.
30 December 2008
I feel so untouched
And I want you so much
That I just can't resist you
It's not enough to say that I miss you
I feel so untouched right now
I need you so much somehow
I can't forget you
Been going crazy from the moment I met you
~ “Untouched” by the Veronicas
I brought Gracie from the old house to the new one last night. She always does fine in new locales – however, she does not do fine being transported from one place to another. I didn’t want to put her in her carrier because the stress on me to do so is terrible. She is like a cartoon cat, claws reaching for the carpet, all four limbs spread, to prevent being stuffed into the little Kitty Cab. It is traumatic for all parties.
Using the genius brain with which I have been blessed, I decided that just packing her up in a cardboard box was a better option. She was already playing in one; it seemed so simple. First off, she did not enjoy me interlocking the lid flaps. My roommate suggested I use the carrier; but I was insistent that this plan would work. I put the box in the front seat and went around to the other side of the car. As I fastened my seat belt, Gracie’s head popped through the box flaps, I told her to stop and attempted to push her head back down. She complied, until I made it to the bottom of the driveway. At that point, she used her super feline strength to open the box, and then jump onto the dash. BLOODY HELL!
I couldn’t drive anywhere with her on the damn dash. It was then that my roommate approached the car, knocked on the window, and once again, suggested the carrier. This time she offered to load Gracie into it to minimize the stress. I agreed, out of necessity. Sure enough, she held Princess Grace by the scruff of her neck and locked her in the carrier. Pride wounded, Gracie remained quiet until we were a block down the road.
She then began wailing and meowing, not stopping until I let her out of the carrier at my parents’ house. She digs her new digs though. Her litter box is hidden so Ebie cannot disturb it, and she is getting showered with attention and affection from my sister and Mi Madre. Ridiculously spoiled!
Last night, I actually was quite productive. I hung some curtains, moved and unpacked 4 boxes, washed my bedroom linens, and took a shower. Plus, I fell asleep a little after 9pm. Of course, falling asleep that early meant I was awakened at 3:30am, by Elizabeth whining to go outside. So, she and I trekked outside. I was wearing my feetsy pajamas, so I barely noticed the cold. Once Elizabeth was finished, I stumbled back inside, down the stairs, and into bed, with her little paws pit pattering behind me.
Tonight, I work and am thankful that new Years day is less than 48 hours from now. Cannot wait until 2009!
PERSONAL NOTE: You never told me what the kids thought of the San Diego trip!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Intelligence is an aphrodisiac. Don’t ya think?
29 December 2008
Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, or will you think of me?
Will I shake this off, pretend it's all okay
that there's someone out there who feels just like me?
~ “There Is” by Box Car Racer
Christmas was interesting, as I fell ill Wednesday night and stayed in bed until Saturday at Noon. I was attacked by the Influenza Outbreak of 2008. Luckily for me, I caught it first – before the rest of my family. Poor dears. They have it now, and I am enjoying the warmer weather (by Antarctic standards)!
Like I said, Saturday I was able to get out of bed and actually run some errands. The first and most important errand was to go tanning, as I haven’t been in some time, and we all know how relaxing it is to sit under the heat lamps! After my 10 minute tropical vacation, I hopped in Marcus Aurelius and proceeded to drive through the parking lot. It was unfortunate that I chose that particular moment to leave, as a bright blue 1995 Eagle Talon, driven by a 19 year old girl, decided that cutting around a truck and across the empty parking spots seemed to be the most viable option to get to Bed, Bath, and Beyond ‘just a little faster’!
My first thought was, “Bloody Hell! SERIOUSLY?!?!?!”, quickly followed by a string of curse words which reminds one of Ralphie in the Christmas Story during his fight scene. I turned the ignition off and opened my door. I attempted deep breathing exercises as I was sure I was going to dive over my injured car and attack the other driver. She also opened her car door, and before I could say anything, she was apologizing left and right, telling me she didn’t see me, etc. Obviously, she didn’t see me; otherwise she wouldn’t have driven into the front end of my vehicle.
All I could mutter was “it’s a new car . . . it’s. . .” Then she looked at the damage and said, “Well, if it helps, my car looks worse off than yours.” No, that didn’t help, but she was young and I couldn’t bear to see her cry. I looked at Marcus Aurelius and sighed. The damage was confined to the front bumper. All superficial damage. All her fault. We exchanged information and called her insurance company immediately, verifying that she was at fault and I was an innocent party. I am supposed to get a phone call today from her insurance company. I have already called and left the adjustor messages. I will not rest until justice is served – or until they get the damn car fixed. Grrrrrr!
On other fronts, I am practically moved into my new place – but not practically moved out of the other. Still, Gracie will be moving today, so she can start adjusting to yet another place to live. At least she will have 2 bedrooms, a storage room, and a living area in which to run around. She can escape from Ebie and still be comfortable. Elizabeth loves her new home, but hates going outside for extended periods of time. Therefore, if she sees me through a window, she will begin barking and not stop until I let her indoors. I try to be strong; but the neighborhood society is a very real threat . . . and everyone knows that you don’t mess with the neighborhood society EVER!
Hopefully, things will quiet down now that Christmas is over. I just wish I could wake up on time so that I am not always running around the house like the White Rabbit.
PERSONAL NOTE: Had a great time at sibling night! Thanks again!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Oxytocin (IPA: /ˌɔk.sɪ.ˈtoʊ.sɪn/) (Greek, "quick birth") is a mammalian hormone that also acts as a neurotransmitter in the brain.
22 December 2008
I'll just take a deep breath and I'll look in your eyes
This is how I feel
And its so surreal
I got a closet filled up to the brim
With the ghosts of my past and the skeletons
And I don't know why
You'd even try
But I won't lie”
~ “Hero/Heroine” by Boys Like Girls
So, yesterday, my sister. Mi Madre, and I went to the mall to pick up a few necessities for the house. We stopped in to see my brother who works in the retail world. The store where he works caters to a very specific clientele; the very cool and those who want to be very cool! When we walked in, I believe the median age doubled. LOL The place was hoppin’ with customers and stressed sales associates. It reminded me why I don’t work in retail. We found a cozy little area by the coats and watched little bro in ‘worker mode’. He looked pretty damn awesome, helping people, wearing his ‘cool kid’ clothes, and being followed around by all the girl customers.
While standing there, Mi Madre hands me the most incredible looking coat. It was a step right out of 1958 and looked like Doris Day may have just set it down, waiting for me to pick up and try on. After I tried it on, I asked to look at the price tag. *GASP* -- 50% off!!! It was my lucky day! Then I saw the wall of hats/beanies. I saw one that had to be mine. On principal (and also because my head is perfectly round) I am not a hat person. But, the coat needed a hat . . . and when I saw this perfect ROXY beanie just hanging there on the wall, I had no choice but to try it on. Then, when little bro said, “Hats are 50% off too” I was sold. Still, a bargain does not guarantee a good look, so I called a family meeting right there in the store and demanded honesty. All 3 gave my new look a thumbs up.
I went and looked in a mirror and may (or may not have) caught a glance from some cute sk8r boi! After I made my purchases, I asked my brother for some last minute advice on the hat. First, I verified that I can wear it indoors and not look like a dork. He confirmed this! Second, I made sure I was wearing it right. He suggested I turn it a little to the right, altering the coolness factor of the hat by vast amounts. I had a new zest for life in my new ensemble.
Unfortunately, as with most things, a book should not be judged by its cover. A dork is still a dork, no matter what they are wearing. As I walked down the mall, when I would see people wearing beanies I waited for some sort of acknowledgement, such as eye contact or the ever-affirming “head nod”. I mean, I was a part of their club now. I was sure, absolutely positive in fact, that my new look would transcend social boundaries. But, no one gave me a nod. Not one beanie wearing cool-kid. In fact, not even the beanie wearing toddlers wheeling by in their strollers acknowledged my hat. Where is the camaraderie?
I mentioned this to my sister, who being the sweetheart she is, acted surprised that more people were not nodding at me. Later, when we had a lunch break with my brother, I mentioned it to him as well. He also acted surprised, though I swear he and my sister shared a look of “really? Just humour her.” I gave up on the mall-faring beanie wearers.
Though, later that evening, when my sister’s friends came over to help us move furniture, one walked in wearing a beanie, and I gave him the head nod, figuring if I acknowledged first, he’d realize that I AM actually part of the club. Yeah, that didn’t work. He most likely thinks I have some sort of nervous disorder which makes me nod my head.
No worries though! I am still wearing the beanie and will continue to do so until someone gives the head-nod!
PERSONAL NOTE: Thank you for being the best book smuggler ever!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I did as you asked. Even used it in context! Ha!
15 December 2008
Let's fall deeper into sleep
Our dreams become fake reality
I wake I hope
I'm on my way to a coast
Where I know the roads like
The back of my hand
~ “Familiar Landscapes” by New Found Glory
The high today is a balmy 7 degrees, Fahrenheit. 7 degrees. S-E-V-E-N. When I awoke this morning, the weatherman said it was -4 degrees outside. Though, this is not entirely accurate because the wind is blowing out of the northwest at a comfortable 15 mph, resulting in a wind chill factor of somewhere in the neighborhood of -20.
I bundled up in my coat and gloves, then went out to start my car and walk Elizabeth. First off, Marcus Aurelius sputtered before starting, which was a concern. Apparently, even brand new cars get a little chilled in this weather. Secondly, the coat and gloves may as well have been still inside for the lack of warmth they afforded. The wind blew through the fabric and chilled my entire body within 15 seconds of being outside. And poor little Ebie. I think her pee may have actually frozen before she was finished going. She looked miserable; shivering and whining. Her ears were folded over and scrunched and her tail was literally between her legs as she ran back to the door. I feel like an awful pet owner when I have to bring her out in this ridiculous weather.
The cold front which is now torturing the Midwest arrived overnight Saturday/Sunday. Going out in it was just as bad yesterday. In fact, last night, instead of being at home bundled up, I went to the Photography Studio’s Christmas party. Elizabeth was my date, as I didn’t have a human equivalent. She enjoyed herself, as she was the center of attention – plus she was given baby carrots to eat. She loves raw baby carrots. I don’t know if she likes the crunch or the flavor; but either way, she was quite pleased to be there snacking on them.
I am currently wrapped in a blanket, wishing that I were home in bed . . . well, kind of. I suppose ‘home’ is a relative term. Still, I would like to be in a heated blanket, reading a book and feeling content with the world.
PERSONAL NOTE: What day should we rent the U-haul?
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Your donation would be greatly appreciated.
09 December 2008
i want to save you
i need you
to save me too
i want to save you
and she won't sleep
she won't sleep
and she won't sleep
~ “I Want to Save You” by Something Corporate
Give me space but I can't breathe
Give me space but I can't sleep
Give me just one inch I swear that's all I need
~ “Space” by Something Corporate
Travel. I love to travel. And now that my fear of flying seems to have abated, I am doing far more travel than I originally thought I would. As 2009 approaches, I look at my travel itineraries and smile at the thought of all the places I will be going. In January/February/March, I will be visiting Orlando, Fort Worth, New York, and Las Vegas. I also hope to finagle a weekend in Phoenix/Scottsdale, if budget and time permit. I’ve never been to Arizona.
I also need to figure out where I want to live and in what direction my life needs to go. I have a plan – but since even the best laid plans go awry, I may need several contingencies.
Yesterday, I finally went to the courthouse and paid my court fees and fine from my accident. The county and I are straight! The girl in front of me was not so lucky. She was in paying the fine for her boyfriend and had to call him because she didn’t know his birth date. I don’t know about you, but I would never pay someone’s fine unless I knew their date of birth by heart. Paying court fines seems to indicate a level of familiarity which requires the knowledge of a birthday.
Birthdays are funny things. I have friends who revere their birthday while others pretend that they don’t have one. My family has always been one that celebrates birthdays with no inhibitions. We drop “hints” to everyone around us . . . so that everyone remembers to celebrate in our honor. And when asked to do something by a family member, we call “birthday rule” as soon as we possibly can – generally a week or two before our actual birthday. This means that we cannot be expected to do anything we don’t want to do. It’s great if there is a movie you’ve been dying to see that no one else does, because you can say “birthday rule” and they have to go with you. Ha – no free will for you, non-birthday person!
On that note, my birthday is August 24. I’ll be 33. I’m cool with it.
PERSONAL NOTE: We need to talk. I want to hear about court!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I will hold you to that promise. Have no doubt.
04 December 2008
So little time
Try to understand that I'm
Trying to make a move just to stay in the game
I try to stay awake and remember my name
But everybody's changing and I don't feel the same
~ "Everybody's Changing" by Keane
GRRRRRRR. I woke up this morning. That was my first mistake. From there, it all went downhill. First off, I overslept AGAIN! Meaning that I have crazy hair at work – which makes me look like a preschooler who refused to have her hair brushed. It's all up in a clip, which confines the craziness, but doesn't really mask it from view. It truly is my own fault for going to bed with wet hair. I think matters were complicated by Gracie nesting in my hair last night while I slept. I woke up several times while she was kneading my head and hair. When I would move her, she simply meowed, then returned to her original location on my pillow. Ridiculous cat!
When I did hop out of bed, Ebie growled and groaned, not wanting to get up. Her reluctance was nothing compared to her reaction to the bitter Antarctic cold that greeted us when we went out for her morning potty break. She turned to run back inside, only to find the door closed. Hey, I was out there suffering with her. I started the car to warm it up and she leaped over me to land in the passenger seat. She really did not want to be outside. I had to coerce her out of the car with promises of unlimited cinnamon twists from Taco Bell. She will not be pleased to know I lied. Not one bit.
My housemate has a down comforter that can keep a human warm in temperatures well below zero degrees Fahrenheit. I don't have such a comforter. I sleep on a heating pad and under two comforters. I wear ridiculous looking footie pajamas and a beanie to bed each night. I huddle against my dog for warmth. I was so not born to live in a place where the cold permeates the bones and the psyche. Honestly, I think that the frigid air may destroy my sense of morality. I may actually steal 'Veggie Girl's' comforter and leave her with nothing but a sheet!
At work, I am wrapped in a flannel blanket while sitting at my desk. I am tempted to put on my gloves, but figure that they will inhibit my typing ability. Heaven knows I don't need anything which will make me type worse than I already do.
On a more serious note – as if me freezing to death isn't serious enough – I am moving again soon and could sure use some assistance. Anyone? Anyone? *crickets chirping* Bloody Hell!
PERSONAL NOTE: Hope you got that pizza dough situation worked out.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Congrats on getting laid!
01 December 2008
Buy me a shiny new machine
that runs on lies and gasoline,
And all those batteries we stole from smoke-alarms,
Disassembles my despair.
It never took me anywhere.
It never once bought me a drink.
~ "Reconstruction Site" by the Weakerthans
Thanksgiving was amazing with my family. Though something was brought to my attention that I hadn't quite realized. . . I am very tan. Yes, for those of you who haven't seen me lately, compared to my normal, pale, ghostly self, I look 'sun-kissed'. You see, I have been tanning; but not for the normal reasons other people tan. I don't care if I look dark or light. I'm Irish for goodness sake, I should be translucent.
However, I am not translucent. I am a golden color that can only be achieved through many 10 minute sessions under fake sun rays (or in the sun, if you have an actual sun to use). I am in the middle of an Omi-ha-ha winter and no sun can be found. Therefore, the only place I can truly warm up is in the tanning bed. I admit it; I tan because I am a wimp in the cold.
So, my sister's boyfriend, 'The Writer', arrives at Thanksgiving dinner and says, "Wow, you look great. Love the tan." Apparently he had been expecting me to look corpse-like. This prompted 'The Pretty One' to comment as well. It was then that I had to explain to my family that I am paying a ridiculous amount of money each month going to a tanning salon so I can actually be exposed to warmth and Vitamin D. I lie there in the well-lighted-coffin, also known as a tanning bed, and pretend that I am on the beach, with the wind blowing (courtesy of the cooling fans) in my face. It's almost like being in Paradise for 10 minutes. Almost.
PERSONAL NOTE: That truly was the longest minute ever . . . still it is to be expected from someone known for letting people go after receiving a beep via call waiting.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Your first confidential note. I want free books! LOL
26 November 2008
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my favourite holiday. For as long as I remember, each Thanksgiving morning has been the same. I wake up early; make breakfast; and sit down in a comfy chair to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I always watch it in my jammies (pajamas) and wrapped in a blanket – no matter how warm it is outside. I will not tolerate people changing the station to watch anything else during commercials. I prefer the NBC coverage – but am willing to watch CBS if coerced.
Later in the day, I eat a traditional Thanksgiving dinner, have dessert at my aunt's, then go to a movie. This year, I am altering it a little, as I am bypassing the movie to go to a concert with a friend. Still, the concept is the same. Thanksgiving is a day of relaxation, joy, and entertainment with friends and family. In the grand scheme of things, these are what makes us most thankful.
24 November 2008
My sister and I went to Vegas. The flight out, I slept. She was harassed by a dentist sitting next to her.
The flight home was turbulent as Hell. I slept, on the shoulder of the poor kid next to me and took up the feet room of the guy on my other side. We flew Southwest so open seating sucked. I hate the middle seat.
We returned to freezing cold weather. I slept most of the day away today. We still have money, our kidneys, and our arms. We are not married.
Great trip. Going back in a couple months. Yay us!
20 November 2008
It just gets hard to believe
That God sent this angel to watch over me
Oh my angel, she don't receive my call
Says I'm too dumb to fuck?
Too dumb to fight
Too dumb to save
Well, maybe I don't need no angel at all
It looks like darkness to me
~ "Miami" by Counting Crows
Tomorrow I leave for 3 days in Las Vegas, Nevada – Sin City. And for some reason that I cannot comprehend, I have had many people, Mi Madre included, tell me to not get into too much trouble. I lead a dull life. I do not know why anyone would think that I could find myself in any trouble while there. In fact, I commented to Mi Madre that I would "watch over" my sister while we are there, and she seemed more worried about that, stating straight out that I have a wild streak. Wha? Me? Seriously, I am so vanilla!
Plus, like in all aspects of my life, I have rules. These are official Vegas Trip rules that Kabie and I have agreed on.
1. Stay Together
2. No one gets married* (unless the person is a celebrity that will result in picture being on cover of magazine)
3. No one rides in someone's personal vehicle * (unless the person is a celebrity that will result in picture being on cover of magazine)
4. Begin drinking upon arrival and do not stop until departure.
5. No crying or drama over anyone PERIOD! * (unless the person is a celebrity that will result in picture being on cover of magazine)
Simple rules. Easy to follow. We'll be fine.
We'll post pictures after our trip.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: If you change your mind, you know where we'll be!
19 November 2008
I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say.
I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be.
But if you'll wait around awhile, I'll make you fall for me,
I promise you, I promise you I will.
~"The Promise" by When in Rome
I started out the day in my Feetsy pajamas. I love Feetsy pajamas. They are so warm and comfy. I never used to be a big PJ person; but living with another human in the house combined with the ridiculously cold weather that Nebraska is displaying, - well it creates the need for pajamas with more substance than I am used to wearing. I'd post a pic of me wearing them; but I look like a giant 5 year old. They are damn warm though. Just sayin'!
For the past two days, I have been doing a modified version of the Slim-Fast diet. Y'all know how much I love the caramel Slim-Fast bars. Well, Target was out of them; so I was forced to buy the High Protein Chocolate Chip Granola ones. First things first – they taste healthy. If I wanted a diet aid that tasted healthy I would just start eating healthier. Secondly – they are very dry. The little coating of chocolate is a teaser and doesn't actually aid in the consumption. Of course, every time I eat one I tell myself how yummy they are and force it down, just like I have to do with yogurt. I realize that the whole process could be less dramatic; but I have so little drama in my life as it is. Plus, eating these ever-so-tasty treats enables me to have 2 cans of Mountain Dew every day – which is caffeine must!
In two days, I leave for Las Vegas with my sister. I am hoping that we come back with our arms intact. Urban legend states that some girls go to Vegas and wake up in bathtubs filled with ice – and no arms! I need my arms. How else will I hug people and feed Ebie and wave? It is really fecking hard to wave without any arms. Grrrrrr. Damn arm thieves! If they make it so my dog starves and people feel unloved – I will kick some a$$. And I'll still have my feet to do so!
Back to the Slim-Fast bars – the high dosage of protein is supposed to control my hunger for "up to 4 hours". I want to see if I can hold out for at least 4 hours and 15 minutes before I eat another one. I'm a maverick like that! Pushing the limits! Going to Extremes!!!!
I want to send a shout out to my newest reader, E-Money from New York City! Enjoy the Riverwalk and Remember the Alamo this weekend!
To the rest of you, hugs and kisses!
PERSONAL NOTE: We need to talk, soon, no excuses!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: *silence*
17 November 2008
I think you like to be their simple toy
I think you love to play the clown
I think you are blind to the fact that the hand you hold is the hand that holds you down
You do what you do
Yeah you say what you say
You always try to be everything to everyone
~ "Everything to Everyone" by Everclear
Saturday morning was an exciting one. Marcus Aurelius got his first oil change. 5,300 miles into owning him and FINALLY the Oil Change light went on. We arrived to the appointment five minutes early. As usual, I was hesitant to release the keys, even though I knew the O'Daniel Honda service team would take good care of him.
Mr. Service Guy took the keys and also took a minute to show me what the codes meant on the instrument panel so I knew what type of maintenance was necessary. My code was A1 – which meant an oil change and a tire rotation. I agreed to the expense and then stood there, looking at my car. Mr. Service Guy smiled, similarly to how an adult smiles at a small child who is scared, and said, "We'll take good care of him. It'll be fine." I sighed, and then walked inside the showroom to wait.
Enjoying an English Toffee cappuccino (free of charge, courtesy of O'Daniel Honda), I walked onto the sales floor to see if 'Joe Cool' was working. Luckily for me, he was. He was standing at a sales desk with another sales guy, "Man w/ a Band". Joe appeared genuinely pleased to see me and even returned my Psych DVDs, which made me happy.
Joe introduced me to 'Salesman w/ a Band' and much to my surprise, he already knew who I was and that I hate Superiority Complex Honda. Apparently, I am quite the celebrity amongst the Honda sales elite. Hee hee We sat and chatted about Marcus Aurelius and how I am now a Honda pusher to all my friends. I did not tell them that I should be charging them for advertising – as I want to encourage people to buy Hondas for their own enjoyment – not so I can collect cash.
I found out that Mrs. Cool had the baby – so now there are two little Cool Girls in the world. Congrats, Joe and family! I also found out that 'Salesman w/ a Band' has a real band and that they are performing at the Saddle Creek Bar this coming Thursday Night. Cover is $10.00 for a night of music. I am 90% sure that the band is called 'Anatomy of a Riot'. Anyway, the sales guy is cool, so his band must be. Go see him! Tell him I sent you – and maybe he'll give you a good deal on a Honda as well!
I realize that I may be a tad too attached to my car. If you knew Marcus, however, you would become just as attached. Plus, unlike most of the other males in my life, Marcus hasn't ever let me down!
If you only remember a few things from this blog, please make them be the following:
1. Only Drive a Honda – you can get one at O'Daniel Honda in Omaha, NE
2. Marcus Aurelius is a car AND a Roman Emperor
3. Thursday Night, go see the band that "Salesman w/ a Band" is in
PERSONAL NOTE: I am glad you are not dead!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I desperately need your advice.
13 November 2008
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath a landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath a landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova
~ "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis
I have been suffering from Writer's Block; which explains why there are no blog entries over the past several days. It also explains why I have been unable to write any more of Eidetic Vision, even though I vowed to finish it this month. Grrrrrr.
My cousin, Jack, gave me a book once called "The Writer's Block" and it is just a cube shaped book filled with ideas and triggers to prompt writing. Lately, I haven't even been able to use that book to help me. I am not sure what the issue is. I have words in my head, but when I try to put them down on paper or on the screen, they flitter away like flutter-byes on a summer day.
Even this entry is giving me a difficult time. The words won't flow. They seem forced and contrived.
This is also why I haven't sent any cards or letters out this week. I seem to be in neutral – just not able to move forward – even though I want to. Time keeps passing, yet I seem unable to make the changes I need to make. I'm not sure if it is fear or denial or laziness.
And this inability to act has lost me two friends in the past 2 weeks. I am sure more will follow. I know, I can be withdrawn. I work really hard at showing emotion. It's just really difficult. Last week, with the help of a new friend, I pushed through quite a few barriers and actually embraced an emotion. It felt like my heart and brain did a "restart". I do prefer feeling 'something' over being numb – at least that is the epiphany I had last week.
Blah. Are you actually still reading this drivel? This is the lamest blog entry I have ever written.
I need your help. Give me a topic to write about. I'll select one and go with it tomorrow.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I love you. For now and for always!
10 November 2008
99 dreams I have had, every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standing pretty in this dust that was a city
I could find a souvenir just to prove the world was here
And here's a red balloon, I think of you and let it go
~ "99 Red Balloons" by Nina
On a website, I auction off haikus and postcards for points. It's fun for me and for the recipient, as they get a cool postcard (plus 17 syllables of nonsense poetry). I wanted to share a few – in hopes it will inspire a haiku explosion! They are so fun to write that I believe everyone should write one and send it off to some unsuspecting soul who will smile upon its receipt.
Boys are dumb sometimes
Not sure why they get that way
Must be genetic
Raindrops kiss her face
She laughs as they splash her feet
Arms out; face to sky
Warm breeze; sun beats down
Children laugh in the cold surf
A day at the beach
Recently, a good friend and I had a misunderstanding and it has damaged something that was really great. As with all things, I am hopeful that it will heal with time; but I am impatient for it to do so, as I miss our candid conversations, laughter, and banter. I even wrote a little haiku to show how sorry I am:
Was hurt; but took it too far
Sometimes I do that
In the winter I tend to get dry skin. It starts off a little chapped, and then before I know what is happening I resemble a leper as my skin is flaking off with every scratch. I bought this truly amazing lotion from Bath and Body Works. It is called, "look ma, new hands". It is advertised as a softening hand lotion with paraffin. It smells citrusy and clean. I love the stuff! In high school and college, I was a sports medicine trainer and used to prevent this sort of dry skin by dipping my hands in the melted paraffin machines, which were used for treating some injuries. Those were the days!
Filling ice bags; fun
Football practice almost done
'Get me some ice, now'
I need to go to the post office and get some stamps. Bloody hell!
PERSONAL NOTE: Thank you for the tickets on Friday night. The show was amazing!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Let's put those photography skills to work!
04 November 2008
"If being with you here makes me sane
I fear I'll go crazy if you leave my side
You've got wits, you've got looks, you've got passion
But are you brave enough to leave with me tonight?"
~ "As Lovers Go" by Dashboard Confessional
Sunday morning was a reminder that I am not conditioned for non-stop drinking and partying. I felt as if someone had beaten me while I slept. I was a tad crabby and knew that consuming alcohol before noon would NOT improve the mood. We decided that we would spend our early afternoon in the French Quarter buying souvenirs and enjoying the sites before we drove out to City Park for our final day of Voodoo.
I bought a miniature license plate for a dear friend, because I thought it would make him laugh. I also invested funds into several small trinkets. Lastly, I bought t-shirts for the twins and a ton of postcards to mail out. Then when the sun actually passed the "noon" mark, we headed over to everyone's favourite daiquiri place, Mango Mango, where Ali-Son bought RPN and me White Russians. She bought a Hurricane for herself. Crossing the street, we walked into a PoBoy shop for lunch. There was far too much food and we could have easily split our orders. That's New Orleans for you!
We did a little more shopping then left for Voodoo. When we arrived, Dashboard Confessional was singing. We found a place by the fence line where we could spread our blanket. The day was sunny and in the mid eighties. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the sunshine. We were sitting in front of a small group of teenagers. They were pretty quiet until one of their friends arrived. We'll call him "Dr. MJ" because he was the utmost expert on marijuana use. Seriously, the kid may have had a PhD in narcotics based on the conversation he had with his friends.
He explained that his 250 dollar glass bong was custom-made for his personal use. He went on and on about his trip to Amsterdam with his sister and how he has connections in California to acquire medicinal-grade pot that is the best one can get here in the States. His words – not mine. It wasn't until he started talking about pot chapstick and eye drops (yes, eye drops), that make your eyes bright and white, while still getting you high. His buddy said in all seriousness, "really? I need those for work." And then, when the bong was passed back to Dr. MJ, he declined, saying, "no thanks, I don't need anymore, I'm all kinds of fucked up". By this time, we three girls had a case of the giggles that could not be quelled. The kid was absolutely hilarious. Ali-Son turned around and said to him, "You need to have your own TV show". And he grinned responding, "I know. Totally. My friends all say I could write a pot sitcom." Unfortunately, we had to relocate stages, forcing us to leave Dr. MJ and his entertainment crew.
Our new location was soft and comfy in the grass. I took a nap in-between flirting with the guys next to us and drinking Sparks which is an alcoholic malt beverage mixed with an energy drink. It tastes nasty as hell – but is still somewhat enticing to drink. After Lupe Fiasco, I woke up and we went to get dinner in the food vending area. We ate while watching panic at the Disco. The flies were everywhere – but luckily for us, they preferred the eaten corn cob to us. At one point, there must have been 20 flies feasting on the abandoned corn. We found it fascinating!
The sun was going down by this point and we were regretful that we had forgotten our hoodies in the morning. It was getting chilly, fast. I decided that it was time to call in a favor. I texted California Guy and asked him if he would mind driving down to City Park and bringing me a long sleeve shirt. And he agreed. So, during REM, I walked out to meet him and get the shirt. Once REM was over (which was earlier than expected because they cut the show short), he walked us girls back to the car and verified that we were safely ensconced in the Hyundai.
Thanks to Ali-Son's amazing compass in her brain, we shortly thereafter found ourselves crossing a bridge and heading into "the lower 9th ward". For those not familiar with New Orleans – this is not where three unarmed girls want to find themselves late at night (or during the day). The best part was when Ali-Son looked up at a sign and said, "Ohhhhhhhhhhh, we're in the 9th ward. This is not where I meant to go." Roly Poly Nicoly and I just laughed at the absurdity. On our way OUT of the neighborhood, we saw a handwritten sign that said, "see ya lata" followed by a picture of an alligata.
The rest of the trip is confidential. If you want details, you'll have to think of creative torture methods. Because I am sworn to secrecy!
03 November 2008
you tear down all my reason
you see through all i hide
you make me perfect
help me get inside
~ "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails
Saturday Night at Voodoo Fest was NOT my first concert-going experience. That being said, the large amounts of alcohol must have altered my good judgment because I thought it would be a 'smart move' to wear $1.00 flip-flops from Target to the show. Granted, they were my Little Miss Naughty flip-slops that I bought in San Diego, and I thought they could possibly inspire me to be a little naughty and get Trent Reznor's attention. Still, they were flip-flops.
Once the show started, I knew that I had to move forward into the crowd if I wanted to see Trent better! Ali-Son and RPN wanted to stay back – so we agreed on a meeting point and I took off for the front. It was a slow process, as people were packed tightly and I was wearing shoes that were not conducive to moving forward at a rapid pace. On my trip forward, a girl grabbed my hand and asked if I could help her move up in the crowd. I agreed; but warned her that if she let go of my hand, I was not going back for her. She kept up for a while, until the crowd got pretty rough, and unbalanced. I asked her if she was okay, she acknowledged that she was but that she was not going any further. I bid her farewell and started to take another step when my damn right flip-flop broke. Bloody Hell!
I had to make a choice – do I stay where I am and remain with the shoe?; do I leave the shoe behind and risk my right foot?; or do I attempt to repair the flip-flop?
I went with door number 3. I asked the guy next to me how old he was. He said 20 – which meant I did not feel badly holding on to him while I stood on one foot and picked up my broken shoe with the other. Luckily for me, these particular flip-flops are quite durable and I was able to make a patch-work repair. And, as a way of saying thank you to the guy who kept me upright while I made the repairs, I asked him if he wanted to move up more. He did, so I grabbed his hand and we were soon within 5 rows of people to the stage. It is always easier for girls to move forward in the crowd than guys – so he was appreciative of our new vantage point.
I spent the rest of the show, in front of 20 year old boy and next to the most beautiful transvestite I have ever seen. She was gorgeous and in a costume similar to what you would see in the musical Chicago. I laughed when she asked if I wanted to feel her rabbit fur. Turns out, she really had rabbit fur on her costume, and it was rather soft.
The show was long and I was gross and sweaty from the New Orleans heat and the tightly packed people. Still, the show was incredible and while I did not actually get to touch Trent Reznor, I know that he wanted me to have done so. Maybe when he is here in a few weeks. I won't wear flip-flops next time.
After the show, I caught up with the girls and we headed to the Haunted Mortuary. It is truly a haunted mortuary; but it is also a haunted house attraction for Halloween. California Guy texted several times during the show and asked us to come over for a party they were having. Ali-Son and RPN said that maybe after we went through the mortuary we could swing by the party. I let him know.
Once we arrived at the attraction, we got in line and waited to buy tickets. It was then that I had a horrible feeling rush over me. And that feeling clearly told me to get out of line and NOT go in that building. I love haunted houses, but I trust my intuition. I told Ali-Son that I was not going in. She asked me if I was serious. I told her that based on the gut feeling I had; there was no way in hell I was walking through there. I let them know I would wait outside for them and got out of line.
Sitting by the flagpole, I patiently waited. Four Army soldiers were guarding the area and they asked me where my smile was. They then called me over by them and we spent the next 40 minutes or so talking and laughing. California Guy called me and one of the soldiers elected to talk to him. It turns out that CG wasn't comfortable with me just standing by myself on a New Orleans street at midnight. The good sergeant explained that I had 4 armed guards until my friends came out of the haunted house. And they all agreed with me for not going in there if I had a bad feeling. We had fun and I really did feel pretty safe with 4 army guys keeping watch over me.
Ali-Son and Roly-Poly Nicoly came out and we bid farewell to the soldiers. Of course, they were too tired to go to the party, so we headed home and I called CG and explained that I was under lock-down and could not leave. I also spoke to his roommate and his brother – all of whom tried to talk me into going over anyway. But, in the end, I obeyed the directive given to me and stayed where I was.
Eventually, we all fell asleep and dreamt about what Sunday would bring.
Please turn the page for Part Five.
31 October 2008
I don't want to get you all worked up
Except secretly I do
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have designs on you
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have designs on you
~ "Designs on You" by Old 97's
Waking up Saturday morning was not a treat! First off, Ali-Son kept stepping on my sleeping mat; second, I think I was still drunk – yet experiencing a hangover at the same time. Our first stop was "Brothers" a convenience store that Ali-Son plans on buying and renaming "Cousins". We bought Dr. Pepper, some batteries for the camera, and a 1/5 of Bacardi, which I was somehow going to sneak into the park since the thought of more Hurricanes turned my tummy.
It was Roly Poly Nicoly's turn to be in the front seat, so I sat in the back, rearranging our belongings into our nylon Voodoo Fest backpacks. We stopped at New Orleans Hamburgers for lunch. There, we witnessed all kinds of shenanigans, including a vomiting 3 year old; two little boys who were very familiar with Obama; a little boy with the more gorgeous blue eyes and blonde curls; oh, and a Papa, with his daughter, and grandson. The food was good – unfortunately, the sunlight beat down through the windows and terrorized my hangover. I was so ready to leave when we were finally walking back to the car.
We had three goals for Saturday!
Be in the very front for the Old 97's (MY goal); throw panties and telephone number to Lil Wayne (NOT my goal); touch Trent Reznor in ways that cannot be discussed in this blog (MY goal).
Once we arrived at City Park, we recapped our goals and began the not quite as long of a trek. When we were by the sculpture garden, still a block or so from the entrance, a troupe of teenagers (gaggle; group; gang; whatevs), approached us and asked if we would be interested in some "E". At first I thought they had kidnapped my dog and were holding her for ransom; but then clarity happened and I realized that the youngn's were trying to cut a deal of a less nefarious sort.
I laughed at their offer and said they were sweet for caring; but that we'd be alright. Then one piped up, "you and me could have some fun with it". I literally laughed out loud and said, "Honey, you're a tad young for me I think." He disagreed and said that he was old enough to satisfy me. Ha ha ha Of course, I took the bait and asked him just how old he was. . . "I'll be 17 tomorrow". This gave me another case of the giggles as I told him I was driving before he was out of diapers. We wished them good luck in their drug dealing adventures and walked toward the gate.
I slipped the Bacardi into my jeans, and prayed it wouldn't fall through as security dug through our bags. We made it inside without incident and I began my day of Bacardi and Pepsi while RPN and Ali-Son bought more of those blasted hurricanes. It was already 2:30 or so by this point. We perused the vending tents for a half an hour or so. Some minor purchases were made. At 3, I told the girls I was heading over to the Old 97's stage and that they could join me or they could go get ready for Lil Wayne who was scheduled to go on at 4:20. Imagine that time choice!
They said they'd go check the crowd and come back if it wasn't too bad. I did NOT expect to see them again until after Lil Wayne. I wished RPN good luck on her panty throwing bit and I finished off my second Bacardi and Pepsi before walking to the SoCo stage where Rhett Miller would soon be playing guitar and singing directly to me.
Most of the audience was seated on blankets in the grass, which made my trip to the front an easy one. I stood directly in front of Rhett's microphone and waited, patiently for the Old 97's to take the stage. A guy standing next to me, wearing a Cracker shirt (the band, not the food), asked if I'd ever seen them live. I explained that it just hadn't been in the cards for me until that point and he explained that he'd seen them lots of times. We continued talking about bands and shows we'd seen until 3:30.
I screamed like a school girl when the show finally started. And several times, Rhett Miller looked directly at me with those incredible blue eyes and smiled. They were phenom and my voice was hoarse by the end. I have a ton of pictures and video footage of the Old 97's if anyone is interested. As Cracker-boy and I walked away from the stage, I could hear Lil Wayne in the distance. The thought of actually having to sit through that show nauseated me, so I elected to drink another Bacardi and Pepsi instead. Imagine my surprise when Cracker-boy accompanied me wherever I went for the next 2 hours.
It got to the point where I texted 2 different friends to call me and help me out of the situation – but both of those people FAILED me. And I know both of those people are reading this now and laughing at the uncomfortable situation in which they left me. All I can say to you two is payback is hell, bitches!
It wasn't until Ali-Son and RPN found me that I was able to detach the nice; but unsolicited appendage from my side. I think he would have been fins to chill with all day had he not kept pointing out people's tennis shoes and telling me which model number they were. It really got a little creepy after a while.
We needed to return to the car to drop some stuff off and run to get dinner before the Nine Inch Nails show. I found out on our walk to the car that RPN did not throw her panties – but she did almost end up in a huge fight with some big girls who didn't like the fact that she was closer to Lil Wayne than they were. Poor Roly Poly Nicoly – always getting picked on!
The End of Part III. Part IV will commence shortly!
29 October 2008
I'd like to say that you're my only fear
And when I dream, it slowly disappears
And when I awake, I'm right here by your side
To feel your heart beat in and out of time
~ "My Only Fear" by Angels and Airwaves
Parking near City Park is a trick – as there are over 10,000 other people also trying to park for the shows. But Ali-Son is a miracle worker and she found us parking within 6 blocks – PLUS it was free. We climbed out of the Hyundai, complimented her on her parallel parking skills, and started walking toward the park. Thanks to the White Russian daiquiri and the Sex on the Beach shot from Mango Mango, I was well on my way to being quite the happy concert-goer. As we are walking, I told my companions that I desperately needed to go to the bathroom. I believe my exact words were "seriously y'all, I gotta pee". Every house we passed, I was tempted to pay the owner for the use of their facilities. I believe there was also a short discussion about using someone's potted planter as a loo – but my plan was vetoed by common decency.
Finally we were in line for the festival. I could see the row or clean porta potties right past the guy handing out wristbands. When he secured mine on my left wrist I commented how these were so much better than last year's, which were tearable. Not "terrible" but "tear-able" as in able to be torn. Of course, I felt obligated to explain what I meant and the guy was laughing at me. The helpful Voodoo volunteers handed us a band schedule and we were in!
Armed with antibacterial wipes, the sunglasses I purchased in Columbia, and a full bladder, I made my first of MANY visits to the bathroom. Ali-Son and Roly Poly Nicoly were patiently waiting when I returned to them a few short minutes later. Our first stop was the Frozen Daquiri stand where we purchased our first of MANY Hurricanes. We perused a few booths before heading over to the Main Stage where we met up with Ali-Son's cousin to watch Angels and Airwaves. They were very good. And I never realized how good looking the lead singer was until I saw them live.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with music and vendors and more alcohol. We left the park to head back to the French Quarter so we could enjoy a very expensive seafood dinner – also known as Prince Charles (Shrimp Charles). Our waiter was from Mississippi and had a southern drawl which could make a girl's heart melt. I think I would have followed him through Hell had he asked. He called me Darlin', Sweetheart, and Love. I was lost. I eventually ran out of reasons to call him over to our table.
The table next to us was occupied by 3 guys our age. They were also having Shrimp Charles. This led the 6 of us to begin engaging in conversation. One of the guys had just moved to New Orleans from Southern California. The other two had helped him move and were returning home on Sunday. They were drinking beer (beer which tasted awful, I may add, since I asked for a taste of it). We were drinking shots. We forcefully requested they join us.
Soon, California Guy, Big Brother, and Chico were buying us more shots and chatting away. California Guy and I eventually began exchanging insults, much to the entertainment of our friends. Drunk or not, I can still hold my own in a battle of wit and sarcasm. Finally, we were ready to leave and go enjoy us some Stone Temple Pilots! As we said our goodbyes and I paid a bill which was beyond exorbitant, CG asked for my digits (after being prompted several times by his friend and brother). I made some comment about him being lucky I was drinking as my standards were lower than normal. He responded with, "Actually, you're lucky I have no standards at all". Laughing, I gave him my cell phone number and assumed I'd never hear from him again.
We went back to City Park in time to see STP take the stage. Scott Weiland put on one hell of a show. Not doing Heroin has been good for him. He has gained some weight and his voice has improved. I don't know how many more beers and hurricanes we drank; but eventually the show was over and it was time to find the car. Thank goodness Ali-Son has a built-in compass in her head. She led us through a very dark City Park, over the bridge, through the neighborhood and directly to the Hyundai. Roly Poly Nicoly and I were less than sober and found the entire trek extremely humorous. We kept making comments about uneven sidewalks (which they were), potted plants (which were everywhere), and how badly I had to go to the bathroom. Seriously, I must have peed 15 times at the show and still had to go.
On the way back to the apartment I received a text from CG and his friends. They were on Bourbon Street. They were drunk. They wanted us to join them. We declined out of sheer exhaustion. Back at the apartment, we crashed . . . and I was once again reminded how much I love beds and hate sleeping mats. Grrrrrrrrrr.
This concludes Disk B. Please insert Disk C to continue . . .
28 October 2008
Hey, I remember the way we would both say we'd be together forever and a day
Well I guess that day came sooner than late
'Cause now we're a part and a way
And it feels so stra-n-g-e, wouldn't you say?
I used to call you babe, and you used to obey
~ "Hey America" by Lil Wayne
Our magical carpet ride commenced at 5:45am on Thursday morning. Three Girls, one Hyundai, One trip to Starbucks, "a latte" of energy pills, and 18+ hours in the aforementioned Hyundai. Did you know that even though one drives through several states to get from Omaha to New Orleans, a majority of the mileage is spent in Misery, I mean Missouri? Did you also know that when someone tells you that you can just drive the Missouri part and they'll cover the rest of the states, that you are getting royally screwed? Well, it's true on both accounts.
Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Twenty-Four, Exit One Two Four -- Exit 124 in Columbia, MO is a rockin' exit. There is a Steak and Shake, a Wal-Mart, a traffic-light that NEVER-EVER changes to Green, a store where you can find bargains that you cannot possibly turn down (though we turned them all down), and a Toys R Us. There are lots of other things too – but those are the important ones. Trust me on this. The Steak and Shake service is mediocre – but the food is pretty damn good. Don't believe the pictures on the menu though. The Vegetable Beef soup is NOT that chunky and they are stingy with the crackers.
The driving rotation was disorganized and consisted primarily of one of us saying "my eyes are getting sleepy – someone else drive". Funny thing though – the driver only gets to pick the music if that music is rap. If the music is not rap – then the driver has to sneak in a CD after everyone else falls asleep. And when they wake up – it will return to rap. There is a huge rap following in Hyundai drivers, apparently. It was quite frightening.
Arriving in New Orleans around 1am on a Friday morning means only one thing – "let's go to Bourbon Street and drink "a latte" of alcohol. One visit to Mango Mango provided us with daiquiris and free shots. The street was crowded – the bars were crowded – the weather was perfect. Once Ali-Son's cousin was off work, we found ourselves at her apartment, where the space was limited and my extra comfortable sleeping/camping pad was no longer comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.
Our first morning was spent at Café du Monde (only after a visit to Mango Mango). White Russian Daiquiris are delicious when combined with Café au Lait and Beignets. After we had eaten our fill of fried dough covered in powder sugar we went to City Park for Day One of Voodoo Fest! I'll be sure to fill you in on everything in Part 2. I can promise you this, though – there will be several more drinks; some music; more drinks; "a latte" trips to the Port-a-Potty; and more . . . stay tuned!
22 October 2008
** My heart starts aching
My hands keep shaking
And you know, you know, you know
* It would take a strong, strong man
To ever let you go (to ever let you go)
To ever let you go
~ "It Would Take a Strong, Strong Man" by Rick Astley
I am printing a disclaimer on this post. Normally this is not required – but today – well, it is. The following may contain – strike that – will definitely contain – brutal truths that could be construed as less than PC or conducive to perpetuating existing friendships. If you read it and get your panties in a bunch due to what I write – well, that is unfortunate. The truth sets us free, bitches!
To start off, I received a text from Kickboxer last night. It said, "How is Nebraska?" Seriously? How is Nebraska? Not, "hey, sorry about that whole apple juice and emotional attachment misunderstanding. Sorry that I broke the rules then bailed because you didn't respond with love and adoration." Just "How is Nebraska?" So I responded with, "Cold and rainy" – then I followed it up with "You abandoned me in Fort Worth never to talk to me again. Why do you care about the weather here?" No response. Guess he really didn't care about the weather.
For those who don't know the Kickboxer story – you're missing out on some hilarity and drama and an ending of which legends are made. I did what I could. I tried to feel something for him. Anything beyond the all-consuming lust that only a 23 year old professional MMA fighter can create. But it wouldn't happen. I could not develop one real emotion for the kid. Definitely not sorry it's over – but do wish it would have been a little more FINAL; as in him not texting me yesterday.
Now, a quick moment on my favourite topic, "pie crust promises". Easily made – easily broken. I do my best not to make them or break them. Inevitably, I will continue to fail at this. It may be a mistake – but bloody hell – can't you see that you're worth the risk of making a mistake of that magnitude? Still, the pie crust is intact!
Moving on – for those of you who can only have emotional conversations by quoting song lyrics – don't have the hypocrisy to berate me because you think I am hiding my emotions. Get over yourself. I am not angry or filled with hate – like you suspect – I am INDEED an emotional void. I truly just don't care. Guess what? . . . It didn't work for lots of reasons, NOT just because I do not have the capacity to feel. I tried to feel. And you sucked the bloody life out of me – good fun. Glad we're still friends. Let's have lunch.
Oh and in case none of that made sense to you, here is the message again, in lyrical form (courtesy of Papa Roach).
"I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
Our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you goin' down
But you never realized
That your drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassion's in my nature
Tonight is our last stand
I'm drunk and I'm feeling down
and I just wanna be alone
You shouldn't ever come around
Why don't you just go home?
Cause your drowning in the water
and I tried to grab your hand
and I left my heart open
but you didn't understand
but you didn't understand
GO. FIX. YOURSELF.
I can't help you fix yourself
But at least I can say I tried
I'm sorry but I gotta move on with my own life"
That's all I have to say about that.
p.s. If you wanted funny today – here you go. . . a very short story – just for you.
Once upon a time, an imprisoned princess sent a series of desperate letters to her fiancee, the handsome and brave, Prince Phillipe. Below is a sampling of correspondence, which clearly illustrates their love and devotion.
Dear Princie Poo,
I am still locked in the bloody castle of your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend. You claim to have been looking for me; but apparently you have yet to locate the return-address on the envelopes of the letters I have been sending you. In addition, I have included maps and a guide on several occasions. I cannot, for the life of me imagine what could be taking you so long. While I confess my confusion at the situation, I'd also like to address a few other issues. First, how in the world did your second-cousin's step-brother's best-friend happen to know that I would be on my way, without guard, to meet you at our secluded love spot at precisely 1:17pm in the afternoon on a Tuesday? Does he have psychic powers I am not yet aware of? I mean, he knew exactly when to jump out of the tall Oak and ambush me. Had I been half a second late, he'd have landed on the ground. Second, why haven't you paid the ransom? I provided you with my account information, as well as a hefty line of credit from "Ye Olde Tyme Bank and Trust". It is important that you pay the ransom soon, before he changes his mind and just throws me into the alligator infested moat. Lastly, and most importantly, do you know why my kind, thin, and beautiful little sister has not yet sent me a letter, inquiring about my health? I know that you have been a good friend to her in the past. Please, verify that she is healthy and safe. I would hate to find out that she has been kidnapped as well.
I suppose I should close this letter, as the candle is almost completely melted and it is very dark, here in the dungeon. Please send your forces soon so we can be together again.
Princess Winifreida xoxo
p.s. I am writing this in blood, since I ran out of ink several days back.
After several weeks, imprisoned in the dungeon, the princess received a response to her desperate pleas. With much anticipation, she ripped open the envelope and began to read.
To My Sister, Winnie,
I am sorry it has taken me so long to write you. I have been away on my honeymoon. Princie Poo sends his regards. Give our love to the alligators. Thanks for all the letters.Kiss Kiss,
p.s. Please don't send any more letters written in blood. The last one made the dogs act all crazy-like.
21 October 2008
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
~ "The Scientist" by Coldplay
In 48 hours I will be in a car driving South! I am really looking forward to being in New Orleans this weekend! There is nothing quite like road tripping with Ali-Son. She is one of those friends who will let you get wild and crazy – while keeping you 100% safe. And unlike last year, where I was rather tame and wanted to enjoy and remember my first trip to New Orleans, this year I am ready to remember nothing.
We should be pulling into the city around Midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning –just in time to grab a drink or four on Bourbon Street then head over to Café Du Monde for some beignets and café au lait! I don't have any idea where we are staying or with whom. I don't care, actually. Like I said, I trust Ali-Son to take care of me.
This time around, however, I do have some goals.
1. Do not trip and fall on a public street.
2. Know where the car keys are at all times.
3. Use feminine wiles to avoid long lines for alcohol at Voodoo
4. Take pictures
5. Find the Praline lady
These are not lofty goals – well, except the first one – but they may still present a challenge as the weekend goes on. I also need to buy some sunglasses before I go since I have misplaced my fake Versace's and broke the ones I bought in San Diego. This situation is why I refuse to invest more than 20 bucks in a pair of sunglasses. I am looking forward to warm weather, friendly people, southern drawls, and some incredible music!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I cannot explain it either - but that's okay. I don't need an explanation for it to 'just make sense'.
For those who missed it – here is a recap of our trip from last year:
"[28 Oct 2007 | Sunday]
There's One Less Fall Out Boy Fan in the World Tonight
Current mood: drained
This weekend was a whirlwind of music and sights and more music. I spent my first trip to New Orleans on Bourbon Street and at New Orleans City Park – for the Voodoo Music Experience. An experience, it definitely was. In fact, it ended at 5am this morning, as I pulled my friend's car into my apartment complex – just in time to get an hour nap before getting ready for work.
Here is a quick rundown of the weekend – in Awards Show format.
Most Graceful Moment: Crossing the street – heading into City Park, I apparently missed the curb – started to fall – quickly recovered, then tripped again – sending me careening in slow motion towards the asphalt. Luckily my karate skills kicked into high gear and I spread the impact throughout my entire body. I skinned my knee and scraped up my palms pretty badly – but I didn't break anything and the only laughing witnesses have been disposed of. It was New Orleans after all.
Best Breakfast Ever: The Café Du Monde Beignet and Café au Lait. A beignet is a square piece of dough, fried in vegetable oil and lavishly covered with powdered sugar. The Beignet is also known as the French Market Doughnut, and is the Louisiana State Doughnut. They use Cottonseed oil at the Café Du Monde. I could have eaten there for days. Yummers!
Most Surprising Act at Voodoo: Paolo Nutini. I watched him because my friend, Veggie Girl, loves him. He is a Scottish Songwriter. Though he danced like he had to pee during his entire performance, his show was fantastic. I am now a fan. Plus, his Scottish accent is kind of sexy – though I could not understand a single thing he said besides "thank you".
Best Miracle of New Orleans: Long story short – Sunday (Day 3 of the festival) – we are leaving the park, after 8 non-stop hours of musical extravagance. And Ali cannot find her keys. Seriously – we emptied her purse, pockets, etc, no keys. 5 sets of keys at the Lost and Found – none of which were hers. We walk through the very dark, very scary park toward her car, where I open the back door (oooops – no locked door) and there are no keys. Then she says, "No Way!" There are her keys, sitting ON the trunk of her car, in plain sight – on a very busy intersection in New Orleans – for 8 fricking hours! We did a 'praise Jesus' dance in the street, and thanked the SoCo beads for their part in it all.
Most Disappointing Old School Band: 'Smashing Pumpkins'. Billy Corgan looked old, tired, and like he felt he was entitled to fandom – without any work. He was "God awful – we left after song 2" said one former- fan. We stayed a little longer than that – but it was a huge disappointment. They should have stayed broken up. Bloody Hell!
Performance that lived up to All the Hype: Plain White T's. They were fantastic. They had energy, a sexy-yet-nerdy look, and that boy can sing. Wow! They played at 11:45 in the morning, and you would think they were headlining a sold-out crowd based on the energy and effort they put into their too-short show. I was so pleased that these boys from Chicago could put on a show of that caliber. Plus – who doesn't love "Hey there, Delilah"?
Friendliest People: The guys who shared their blanket so I didn't have to lay my head on the ground in a muddy field – the people who didn't rob me while I slept during 'Clap Your Hands and Say yeah' and that girl at the ATM who posed with me in a photograph for those guys who also hated the Smashing Pumpkins show!
Worst Live Performance Ever: Hands down, this award goes to 'Fall Out Boy'. They sound great on my iPod – but that is where it ends, folks. These dreamers cannot play their instruments – they cannot sing for shit – and even Pete Wentz (the Emo-poster child) only impressed me with his ability to wear all black – including a ragged hoodie – on a very hot day. They sucked. 'Gym Class Heroes', 'Plain White T's', and 'Cute is what we aim for' should abandon the tour and form their own before the crappiness plagues them as well.
And that, my friends, was my weekend. See ya next year at the 10th anniversary -- VooDoo Musical Experience 2008 – New Orleans."
20 October 2008
I'm running through your veins
Like a habit you can't kick
Here's a secret confession
From a lifelong obsession
As I'm staring out your window pane
~ "Body Language and Bad Habits" by Just Surrender
So, last night G3 and I went to dinner and then to Scary Acres – a haunted "acreage" with 4 haunted attractions. I LOVE haunted houses. Though you wouldn't know it by the way I scream like a school girl while going through them. We started out with the Haunted House on the Hill. Just walking up the damn hill was creepy. Once in the house, however, my heart was racing. There were tons of twists and turns and mad people. I do fine with gore and ghoulish stuff – but mad people scare the bejeezus out of me.
We walked through one room where there were baby dolls nailed up all over the wall and a girl in bloody pajamas hopping around requesting quite loudly that we leave her room. Then I did what one should never do in these situations, I made eye contact with her. She jumped in my face and just started screaming. I flew back and slammed into the wall behind me and started telling G3 to get us the hell out of that room. Laughter ensued from everyone except the mad girl and me.
From there we went to the Dark Woods where some bad stuff went down – but luckily for us, 'Sam' the teenager behind us took the brunt of the abuse since the evil doers found out his name. He was definitely scared. Again, I did fine with all of them except the mad ones. Stupid mad people!
With half the attractions out of the way, we decided to head over to the Stalks of Terror, which was a maze of wheat or straw or something growing. I was just happy it wasn't a cornfield – because that wouldn't have been happening. No Isaac and Malachi run-ins for me. The maze was not inhabited by any character actors. Instead, it really was just a maze, but patrons would hide and try to scare each other – for fun. We were searching for the exit when I saw two girls coming down part of the path. I motioned for G3 to duck down and I crouched low and hid behind some wheat, waiting for their approach. Then, when the timing was right, I jumped up and . . . said, "Hi." WTF!?!? They looked at me with curiosity, and then walked past without a word. G3 was laughing. . . "Hi?" He asked. "Really? You hide in the Stalks of Terror then jump out and say, 'Hi'?" Needless to say, my attempt at being scary was not successful.
The rest of the evening, which included over an hour in line for the Master's Castle, included the frequent mockery of jumping out and saying, "hi"! Nice! My haunted legacy will consist of friendly greetings!
Overall, the night was a lot of fun – and I handled the scariness like a trooper. No tears or rocking back and forth begging for my mommy. Hopefully I'll get a few more haunted houses in before Halloween.
The rest of my weekend consisted of an amazing opera, tequila shots, vodka, steak, humus, more vodka, a hangover, Chinese food, screaming 2 year old, grilled cheese sandwiches, an emergency shopping trip, holding a girl's hand, drunk married guy hitting on me, finding a quarter, and quality time with Marcus Aurelius!
PERSONAL NOTE: Still cannot believe it was only 10 bucks! A miracle!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Your present should arrive today or tomorrow. Wish I could have delivered it in person – for more reasons than one!
17 October 2008
So I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever, I especially am slow
But I realized how I need you
And I wondered if I could come home
Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning?
And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed
You felt as if you just woke up
~ "First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes
I love songs by artists who are from Omaha. While this city is not my Mecca – I will never stop appreciating the art and music scene here. There are some very talented humans from right here in the middle of America. I am especially partial to Zack Hexum and Conor Oberst. Not because they are easy on the eyes – but because they have voices which invoke an emotional response.
You know what else I love? Smart people. Clever people. People like DustoMcNeato on YouTube. He is a frickin' genius. Plus, he is a great voice mimic and wicked hot!
Here is a sample of his work:
Take on Me - Literal Video
The problem is this. . . I have been listening and watching his You Tube stuff for over a week and am starting to worry that I may get fired if I continue. I mean – I am still working, don't misunderstand. . . I work a lot of hours and I am getting stuff done – but my PC still plays a cycle of DustoMcNeato clips. My favourite part in the "A-ha" video is when he sings "you know you like it when I'm flirting with you". Because he's right . . . that girl does like it. You can tell just by looking at her. She likes flirting with an animated man. And why not? Who's to say that an animated man isn't as good, if not better, than a 3-D man? Let's not be biased against the 2-D hero. I used to be infatuated with Jonny Cage from Mortal Kombat – the video game. There's no shame in it.
Okay, maybe there is a little shame in it. Maybe I need to not share these types of secrets with the general public. Maybe I was just making it up. Maybe I don't even own a Jonny Cage action figure . . . it's just a hypothetical like Joe the Plumber talking about not wanting to share his wealth above and beyond what is fiscally dictated by the IRS (even though the US Gov is a little pissed that he hasn't even paid his legal share of taxes – but quite pleased he chose to come out on national television so an example can be made. Say it ain't so, Joe. . .)
Tonight, I am going to the Opera. I love the Opera. The Opera makes me emotionally respond to music in a way that no other artistic media can. I intend to laugh and be merry with a bunch of singing and dancing pirates tonight! Does life get any better than that?
PERSONAL NOTE: I am so happy that we talked this morning and that we got caught up on each other's lives. I miss you!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: *singing* 'I want something else to get me through this semi-charmed kind of life, baby, baby'. -- It's your special day – enjoy it.
16 October 2008
Instead of with the masses
Time and time again, she spreads her arms
While her mind wraps the rope around and around
‘Tighter this time’
She doesn’t want to slip
She doesn’t want to fall
Circulation drops; hands turn red
She waits, and waits, and waits
Fingers throbbing, pressure mounting
They see her now
Hanging there; a sacrifice of her own making
A nameless face tugs on her skirt
Then her skin; pinching and scratching
Blood and tears; tears and blood
They take what is offered and more
Rape and Brutality; never satiated
They’ve already forgotten her
She sighs at the irony
His hand extends as she turns away
Dark purple disappearing in a shadow
Drawing a glance, sliver of light
Cheshire grin watching over, observing
She shakes her head; finger hushing
Wings whisper, then upward
His charge far below
Dry tears do not cleanse
While the Blind refuse saving grace
All for ‘Nothing’
You've been known to obsess over the future.
Do you think you'll get away from the past?
As you stone yourself just to make it through 'til midnight
consider what you might have found.
~ "Topeka" by Ludo
My attorney called me yesterday. My young, attractive, clever, amazing attorney. This perfect defense attorney charged me a paltry sum and vowed to make a very big problem go away. You see, for those of you who may have forgotten, in August I had a little mishap with a PT Cruiser, a Fire Hydrant, and the laws of physics. Apparently, this special combination creates the need for a Reckless Driving citation.
Reckless Driving is a misdemeanor in the state of Nebraska – resulting in 5 (yes, 5) points being taken off one's operators license. It is accompanied by a possible license suspension; a hefty fine; probation; AND 0 – 60 days incarceration in the city jail. I would not survive in jail, people. My passive aggressive tendencies and irreverent humor would not be appreciated by the other ladies in the Pokie (that's 'prison' for those who are not up on the latest slang). As it is, these personality traits are barely appreciated by my friends and family.
So, Mr. Attorney Rock Star (MARS) spent the early part of the week hunting down my police report and file in the City Prosecutor's office. Using his skillz of persuasion, MARS talked Mean City Prosecutor into reducing the charge to Careless Driving, which only strips my license of 4 points AND carries a maximum fine of $500.00. No jail. No license suspension. No probation. Compared to the alternative, this is a friendly slap on the ass. No problem!
I get to go to court on October 28 (accompanied by MARS), plead guilty (with MARS standing next to me), pay a fine to the clerk (hopefully still accompanied by MARS), then go to work (without MARS) – never again fearing the orange jumpsuit and metal handcuffs.
PERSONAL NOTE: Sunday will be interesting.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Speaking of handcuffs. . . you game?
15 October 2008
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some--
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again
~ “On the Radio” by Regina Spektor
I remember as a teenager I would daydream about the ideal song for my first dance at my wedding reception. It alternated between “You’re the Inspiration” by Chicago and “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. For years I never wavered away from those two selections. Then, when it came time to actually sit down and select a wedding song, I went with one from left field, “Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion. Looking back, I wonder if I knew, deep inside, that after my divorce, I would never be able to listen to the song again – prompting me to select one that had no meaning to me.
I didn’t dance at my second wedding. It was a private affair, with close friends and family. We had a song though. It was ‘our song’ – of course. I have not heard it in a very long time. I don’t know whether or not I would feel anything if I did hear it again. I don’t intend on finding out. Some things are better left undiscovered.
Someone told me the other day that they don’t know how I went through two divorces. I wanted to explain that it takes mad skills, patience, and that you just have to take it one marriage at a time. Life happens – and sometimes what we plan goes awry – leaving us with pieces to pick up and reconstruct. I am not Miss Fix-It by any means; but I can use logical reasoning to patch things up enough to move on. It’s what we do as humans.
Resiliency is strictly a human trait. I believe it is what makes us different than our animal counterparts. In the wild, the weakest are picked off – survival of the fittest, etc. But humanity – wow, the things we force each other to endure. We are the cruelest species on earth, yet we keep living AND loving. There is something to be said for that. For every dark event there is a light which encourages; the silver lining, I suppose. For every heartbreak, there are two lovers who find one another. It’s an eternal cycle. For every death there is a birth.
Mi Madre gave me a plaque which says, “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” This is a Seneca quote – but it is also a song lyric by Semisonic. Who would have thought they were fans of Seneca? Anyway, I digress. The quote makes a very valid point – that nothing is infinite, except change. Things begin and things end. What matters most is that periodically along the way; we stop, look around, and take a snapshot in our minds.
I am not sure why I decided to venture to this depth today – I really had planned on being amusing and light-hearted. Like I said, plans often go awry.
PERSONAL NOTE: Cannot wait to see you tonight!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Thank you for the encouragement and your faith in my ability. I will really think about your suggestions. Love to the Missus!
14 October 2008
I'm a go-getter guy with a gun on my hip
I'm just searching for that someone to be firing it
I've narrowed down the field and I'm taking a glance
And I'd say you've got a pretty good chance. . .
To be my girlfriend.
~ "Go-Getter Greg" by Ludo
It is no secret that crazy people are drawn to me. Over the past 18 months, I have been amused by late night phone calls and random text messages from people I do not know – though they clearly know me. The numbers are not familiar and no matter how I try, I cannot seem to identify the culprits. Trust me, I have tried. I have these numbers saved in my phone with names such as "No Idea", "Prankster", and "Borat". The last label was due to a call I received in January.
Sometimes the texts are interactive, where we actually engage in conversation.
Text Message: 'Hi, how was your day?'
My Response: 'Fine, and yours, crazy stalker boy?'
Text Message: 'Mine was good, thanks for asking.'
And sometimes they are one sided –
Text Message: 'I am having dinner now.'
Text Message: 'You still having problems sleeping?'
Text Message: 'Are you going out tonight?'
Then there are the days where I am feeling clever –
Me: 'I am having lunch'
Or Inquisitive –
Me: 'Who are you?'
Or Irritated –
Me: 'Just tell me who you are, damnit!'
In the end, however, nothing new is discovered. They know my name, where I work, the kind of car I drive, etc, and I know nothing – except they like to say their name is Joe or Dave or Chris or whatever name suits their fancy.
Since I have moved back to Omi-ha-ha, the texts had actually been sparse. That is, until the other night, when I was sick, and lying in bed at my parents' house. A NEW number appeared on my phone display. I clicked on the text message, only to discover it is yet ANOTHER secret admirer. This one is funnier than the rest, however. So, I am going to dub him 'Go-Getter Greg' [G3] like the Ludo song above. He has given me his name, well, a first name, and while I would normally be disinclined to believe him, he has an auto-signature set up on his phone and it is a nickname which coincides with the first name he provided me.
And, unlike the others, this one has come up with a confusing, yet imaginative back-story.
'We met at work. I work at *** with you. I am always too shy to say anything. Or maybe you gave me your card after spending an hour telling me your life story in Aisle 5 (or maybe it was the Deli) at Bakers – and if you don't shop at Bakers, then it was Hy-Vee. Or somewhere else. I remember it vividly – but not all the details. You are pretty.'
LOL -- WTF!
And when I told him I was sick, he offered to bring me soup or cook me dinner because he can be really sweet (so he claims). Last night, 'G3' texted me that he wanted to take me to dinner. And y'all know that someone taking me to dinner is a dream come true, even if they are a crazy stalker guy. But, when he texted, he also admitted that he had been drinking and that perhaps our "first' meeting shouldn't be when he was three sheets to the wind. Wait a minute, our FIRST meeting? I thought we have met before . . . oh, that is when he back-peddled to his 'too shy to actually speak to me' story. He asked me out for Wednesday night – I explained I had to work. For Thursday night – I explained I already have a date. (This excuse didn't deter him in the least – he responded with 'yes, a date with me.' -- 'um, no, with someone else') Friday night, I am going to the Opera.
No worries, though, because he was up bright and early, texting away, this morning. Some people would say that I shouldn't encourage the attention. He could be a dangerous psychopath. Though, last I checked, serial killers didn't have auto-sigs set up on their text messaging. Plus, I really don't believe that he will ever actually take me to the dinner he has promised. It's all part of the game. And playing the game is far more fun than celebrating the outcome!
PERSONAL NOTE: Now you are a celebrity!
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I am happy to hear that your headache has improved. Did you check that weekend yet?
13 October 2008
I don't have to sell my soul
He's already in me
I don't need to sell my soul
He's already in me
~ "I Wanna Be Adored" by Year of the Rabbit
Today was day one without Prince Harry in the office and I must admit it was a bad day for it, as I forgot my security badge and could not get into the annex. Previously, I would have been able to knock on the glass and he would have been right there to mock me, and then let me in; not today. Bloody hell! At least I have the framed memento on my desk to serve as a reminder of him being here. Isn't that what all mementos do? Serve as reminders. I think that statement may have been redundant; however, I don't care enough to research the proper grammar. I do hope he was able to sleep in today, though – which seemed to be all he talked about for his last two weeks with the firm.
I leave for New Orleans in 10 days. Today I highlighted the bands that I MUST see at VooDoo Fest. I also need to come up with a plan to win Trent Reznor's attention. I mean, I know he was getting all kinds of tail in the 90s when NIN was at its peak – but now, almost 20 years later, . . . are there that many women who want to be *censored* like an animal? Most likely not! This is good news for me. ;)
Today, Elizabeth is still at my parents' since I stayed there last night. It is cold and rainy – so she is probably cuddled up with the boys under the deck, where it is both warm and dry. This morning when I opened the door for her to go out, she stuck her head outside, then backed up and refused to budge. I had to coax her out the door – then close it right behind her. She will be a muddy mess when I pick her up today. No matter, as she gets to go to the groomer tonight, anyhow.
I started looking at Eidetic Vision again last night. I think I am ready to finish it. I'll resume working on it this weekend. I just need someone to read it and give some feedback. Hmmmmm. Anyone interested in being in the mind of a serial killer? Let me know!
PERSONAL NOTE: Your Magic 8 Ball works much better than mine.
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: Don't let your guard down.
12 October 2008
Anything you desire
I will set at your feet
With a kiss in the air
For the gods to receive
~ "Don't Let Go" by Weezer
Grrrr. I hate call waiting. It is the world's rudest invention. Truly. It enables us as humans to tell another person, 'hey, your time is not important to me . . .instead, I am going to put you on hold so that I can see if I would rather talk to this person instead of you!" I admit, I am guilty of utilizing call waiting – but I seldom actually let the person go to talk to someone else. Still, I am just as rude as everyone else. It's why I think I am going to call Verizon and request they take the call waiting off my phone line.
This weekend, I have been ultra-sick. Influenza is a beating. I slept almost the entire weekend away while house-sitting for my parents. In fact, tonight I was going to head home and Mi Madre said I was to stay here tonight so that I could be taken care of. She even loaned me her favourite shirt to wear to work tomorrow since all I have here are two tank tops, a DMB shirt, and a Blues Traveler shirt – none of which are work-appropriate.
I did buy Marcus Aurelius a car wash this weekend, as he was pretty dirty and spotty from the recent rains. Plus I vacuumed the seats and car mats. Elizabeth had shed a bit in the backseat. Plus, his dash says that his oil life is down to 30% - meaning I will get to return to Honda soon and see 'Joe Cool. Yea!!! I miss my car salesman.
So, it appears that I am now the 'divorce expert' and that friends send their divorced friends to me for a pep talk of sorts. I think that my job is to convince the newly divorced that there is life to be had after our worlds fall apart. I mean, as the legend goes, 32 year old women who have been divorced TWICE are gurus and have achieved some sort of clarity and nirvana. Whatevs! Still, this weekend I shared my wisdom with a newly divorced human. And I think after a few more sessions with Dr. Genius, 'Red Eye' will be as good as new and ready to take on the world – or at least the local sports bar.
Even if nothing I said is the least bit helpful or enlightening, I made a new friend – and that is better than a stick in the eye!
Also, this weekend, while I was sleeping and praying to the gods that someone would come over and pet my hair while I was miserable and sick, an old friend stopped by and brought me apple juice, Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, and copies of 4 CDs I had been wanting. Good friends are hard to come by – and I am so blessed to have so many people I can call 'friends'. *insert cheesy music here*
I hate to digress – but back to the concept of phone etiquette – I would rather someone just say, "Hey, I am going to let you go now" instead of telling me that someone else is calling them. I'd rather think I am boring than think I am MORE boring than someone else. Ya know? Bloody Hell!
All that being said, at this very moment in time, I am actually very content. I am lying in my own bed (in my parents' second guest room, but still it is my antique bedroom set which inspires the décor). I love this bed. It is so comfy and beautiful and perfect. It almost makes me want to move back in with my parents, just so I can sleep in this bed every night instead of the twin bed I have at my own place. Not to say that the twin bed is not comfortable, it just isn't this comfortable. Plus, Ebie and I can sleep without pushing each other to the edge.
I am listening to Weezer at the moment and I still really like that Buddy Holly song. Even though I think my affection for the song stems from the amazing video – because I really like the show 'Happy Days'. Wow! Did I really just say that? Does anyone actually admit to really liking that show? I liked it better though, before Joanie was old enough to date. She and Chachi were a stupid story line. And I still want to know what ever happened to their older brother. He was there for a year, and then nothing. Not another word. It's like the little sister in "When Boy Meets World". She disappeared for two seasons, then returned, as if she had always been there. WTF! That does not happen in real life – it shouldn't happen in a sitcom.
On that note, I need to go – I am being bombarded by song lyrics via Google Talk and I have to catch up!
PERSONAL NOTE: Someone in the mood for some peppermint????
CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I gave you the set. . . but not the match. Bring your 'A' game next time. I need a challenge!