30 June 2008

Decapitation is Not Funny

Saturday, in between the wedding and the reception, 'Boston' and I were reading Fark.com and there was an article about the Six Flags in Georgia, where a seventeen year old boy (on a church youth group trip) climbed a warning fence into a restricted area so he could jump up and grab the dangling feet of riders on the Batman ride.


As can be expected – these shenanigans did not end well. The kid no longer has a head.

While it is true that decapitation is not funny (see title of blog for verification), the comments on Fark were hilarious. And the situation in general is so ridiculous that risking eternal damnation and bad karma is almost worth it in order to find the giggle factor in this tragedy. I mean, really, if someone is dumb enough to ignore warning signs and attempt to grab something moving 70 mph, should we be too surprised that he ends up dead before his 18th birthday? I am surprised he lived as long as he did with the intelligence of a baseball bat.

To paraphrase the Six Flags ad, "No Head! One Flag! One Head, Six Flags!"

*UPDATE* - courtesy of the Associated Press

AUSTELL, Ga. (AP) — [Victim] died when he was hit by the Batman roller coaster at Six Flags Over Georgia on Saturday. The teen had climbed over two fences to enter a restricted area. The park closed the ride over the weekend out of respect for the family. . . Cobb County Police Sgt. Dana Pierce said an autopsy will be conducted Monday.

I am going to take a guess and say he died because his head was separated from his body. Not so sure the tax payers' money needs to be wasted on this one.

PERSONAL NOTE TO SOMEONE: I know you are still laughing at this – Welcome Home!

27 June 2008

Sans Culottes

Back Story:

Last July I was driving home from work on I-35W Southbound, when rush hour traffic came to a complete halt. Not surprised in the least (as I have gone through more brake pads than husbands since moving to Texas) I slowed my car down and came to a comfortable stop behind the black pickup truck. I could hear my drivers ed instructor's voice saying "wheels to pavement, always stop where you can still see the wheels of the car in front of you meet the pavement". While I was reminiscing in my head, my poor little PT Cruiser lurched forward from a rear-impact. My jaw clenched, I held down on the brake – only to feel a second impact. Seriously, did she just hit me again?

So, I pulled over, walked back to see the lady on her cell phone. I called 911 and asked her if she was injured. She shook her head. I asked for insurance info, and immediately called her insurance company. To make a long back story short – the bitch tried to say I cut her off – which was a lie. And her insurance company tried to fuck me. . . which was dumb. So, now I have a litigator and am seeing an orthopedic specialist for the non-stop pain I have had since the accident.

Like the attorney said to the claims adjustor when he tried to justify his ridiculous settlement offer, "Don't worry, you'll have more medical bills arriving shortly. Have a nice day!"

So, fast forward almost a year to yesterday. Now that I am back in Omaha, I have to see a specialist here AND return to Physical therapy. Woo hoo!

I arrived at the Spine Center with 5 minutes to spare. The lady at the front desk was very cordial. I was surprised. I handed her all my paperwork and she gave me a few other forms to sign. I did not bother reading them. So, if some guy shows up asking for a kidney – It'll be my own fault.

I sat down, after snagging a tootsie roll and a caramel square from the glass jar on the reception desk. I was flipping through Newsweek – when I hear my name from across the room. Startled, I grab my purse and follow the "patient escort" to another waiting room, where she weighed me on a very modern scale and recorded my height. I was asked to have another seat until my room was ready.

A few moments later, she brings me into a room and hands me a very short and worn cotton/poly blended hospital gown. "Leave your undergarments on, but everything else, including jewelry needs to be removed. The gown ties in back." Then she was gone.

UH-OH. Houston, we have a slight problem. The Good News is that I actually wore a bra yesterday – so that awkward moment was evaded. The Bad News is that, um, I really did not want panty lines yesterday. Bloody Hell! I have never had to disrobe for the damn orthopedic specialist before. What kind of operation were they running? What to do. . . what to do. Well, the gown was short – and no panties really was not going to be an option. I am looking around in desperation.

Maybe I could create some with the tissue paper that covers the patient bed. Wait – no, that would be really embarrassing. It'd crinkle every time I walked. My watch was ticking loudly (not really, but I am adding some dramatic license). That doctor was going to walk in while I was panty less – nothing to be done.

WAIT! My tank top. If I slide my tank top down, it could serve as an undergarment/skirt like thing. Better than nothing. Just in time, I took a seat on the exam table, and there was the quick 'knock then enter' that doctors tend to do. You know the one. . . where even if you were half naked – there is nothing stopping him from walking in – because you don't have time to respond to the knock.

So, in walks a young PA. He introduces himself and starts asking me lots of questions. I answer them all to the best of my ability. He asks me to stand up and face away from him. Now, I have heard that line before – but, I was hoping that this offer was on the up and up – if you catch my meaning. He then proceeds to shift the back of the gown so he can look at my spine. Now, whether he noticed that my panties were really a tank top, I cannot say – but I can tell you that I was a little confused when he asked whether I was Italian or Irish. But – my genius brain caught up with the convo and I responded Irish – remembering the Irish flag on my back.

He told me to have a seat again and that the X-ray tech would be in shortly. Sure enough, she arrived and asked me to follow her. I was all nervous walking around in this damn gown that I was pulling on it to cover myself better. OR NOT! She grabbed my hand and said, "oh, honey, don't pull that way." Apparently, I was opening the gown in back instead of pulling it closed. Fantastic! My tank top/skirt creation was flashed to the whole office. I turned bright red and walked without touching the gown again.

She took lots of x-ray pictures, which always make me nervous because she is behind a steel wall, and I am being inundated with radiation. The giant "If you are pregnant, tell the technician" sign was a flashing beacon across the room – reminding me that she could indeed be frying my ovaries while taking these silly radioactive pictures.

She escorted me back to the room at a quick pace, so that I could sit there twiddling my thumbs for fifteen minutes (I love all the waiting time in doctor's offices). By the time Dr. Fuller walked in, I had almost forgotten why I was there. He hits me with a mallet –comments on my impressive reflexes and suggests that I may be a little tense. Really? You think?

Then the nervous energy kicked in. Not only could I not shut my mouth – but I just kept babbling on about my accident and how fidgety I am and how I dislike taking meds and how I don't understand the abuse of pain killers since Vicodin makes me vomit – and that I don't plan on living here permanently – just for a while and dear God – it was like psychotherapy with one exception – he would look at me with this intense stare and be silent (making me talk faster and louder). He must think I am a lunatic.

Finally – it was over. I asked if I could get dressed, and he said yes, but that I need to refrain from stealing the gown. I think he was joking. Hee hee

End Result:

I get to do PT twice a week for 6 weeks, then return to see him again. I have a feeling that I will wear panties next time.

25 June 2008

Sorry to be such a Cramp in your Side

"Baby, can't you see
I'm Callin'
A guy like you
Should wear a warning
It's dangerous
I'm Fallin'"
~Toxic (as sung by Britney Spears)

Every time I hear this song, I think of exotic dancing. It is 100% - hands down - a stripping song – accompanied by a pole, stage lights, dollar bills, and crystal clear heels. Now, there may be some of you out there who are thinking, "the song is awfully fast for pole dancing". That, my friend, is an inaccurate assessment of the beauty of dancing in a Gentleman's Club. You see, strippers dance on the ½ beat – not the whole. Therefore, they can slow their movements down considerably, without seeming to be 'off beat'. I have a friend who used to 'dance for dollars'. She explained the whole concept one drunken night. She is the only 'expert' I know in the field of male entertainment, so I have to take her word for it.

Completely off topic, I am still in Omaha – not known for its exotic dancing or strip clubs. I think I am stuck here for a while. The borders have been closed due to quarantine. There appears to have been an outbreak of "intense boredom". Being under stimulated myself; I completely comprehend the precautions being taken. In three days, Boston (out of misguided guilt) and I are going to the wedding of a good friend of mine. We have been friends for 19 years. I love watching old friends get married. I always have such optimism for their happiness. In this particular case; the couple could not be better-suited. They are both brilliant, kind people. I hope to be invited to their Golden Anniversary party in 50 years. I may need a walker and a driver by that point – but I'll still attend.

Random Thought: On my desk is a jar of maraschino cherries. It is sealed and has writing on the label. They were a going away present from my D/BFF in Fort Worth. To many, over-processed fruit may seem to be an odd gift to receive. In my case, they are fitting. I love them. And, D/BFF and I have spent many a Happy Hour amazed at the number of those cherries I can eat while inebriated. Plus, there is nothing like asking a cute bartender if he can give me "a few extra cherries." I know, I am such a dork! It does give me the giggles every time, though.
On my way to work this morning, I passed a Registration and License checkpoint. The State Patrol did not wave me over to the shoulder because I have Texas plates on my car. According to the DMV, I have 7 days to change that situation. Perhaps I'll do it tomorrow after my doctor's appt. I am supposed to get a new DL and get my car inspected. What a beating! I don't want to surrender my Texas license. No more lone Star flag. No more pointing to the DOB because the bartender doesn't know where it is listed. What a sad, sad situation!

I suppose I need to stop blathering so you can get back to your daily routine. Hope to be in Fort Worth by Noon on July 3rd. *fingers crossed*

PERSONAL NOTE: Please remember the Grinch! Thanks much!

"We could be honeymooning south of the border
If, he'd just drop that restraining order."
~He Hates Me (as sung by Sarah Johns)

23 June 2008

I do not think that word means what you think it means.

In the past, I have been accused of being a lot of negative things. I have been called relentless, crazy, psychotic, strange, bitchy, immoral, and unfaithful (among others). And, I would agree that I have most likely been at least a few of the aforementioned words. In high school, I actively pursued a guy for 3 YEARS! We were friends – but I was 'in love'. I sent him letters and cards and gifts. His family adored me – he tolerated me. It was a learning experience. In college, I made out with a married man. Granted, they were separated, and he was filing for divorce; but, it could still be construed as unethical.

I take responsibility for those situations. However; lately, it appears that the new "IN" word to use as an insult is 'clingy'. The definition of 'clingy' is as follows:

cling (klĭng) Pronunciation Key
intr.v. clung (klŭng), cling•ing, clings

1. To hold fast or adhere to something, as by grasping, sticking, embracing, or entwining: [clung to the rope to keep from falling; fabrics that cling to the body.]
2. To remain close; resist separation: [We clung together in the storm.]
3. To remain emotionally attached; hold on: [clinging to outdated customs.]

n. Botany
A clingstone.

[Middle English clingen, from Old English clingan.]

cling'er n., cling'y adj.

I would like to share with you a text conversation where this word was used as an adjective to describe me. I would love your opinion on where the conversation went off roading.

Me: Do you want to go to the dog park this week?
Eejit: I am not interested tho
Me: Not interested in being my friend or in going to the dog park?
Eejit: Jillian. Relax. UR being clingy.
Me: No. I was not being clingy. I am not even into you. I know few people here and am rather bored with so few friends.

The Eejit did not respond. Which did not come as a big shocker to me! I must have destroyed his sensibilities with my 'clinginess'.

Now, I'd like to examine each line individually –

Me: Do you want to go to the dog park this week?
(no hidden meaning here. Just looking for someone to go to the dog park with Elizabeth and me)
Eejit: I am not interested tho
(did his words get cut off? Has he completed a thought? Is he talking to me?)
Me: Not interested in being my friend or in going to the dog park?
(I have not said or done anything to give him the impression that I am interested in him beyond the dog park, so I was not sure what he wasn't interested in and truly needed clarification)
Eejit: Jillian. Relax. UR being clingy.
(First off, the little arrogant prick couldn't even spell out "you are" when insulting me. Second, I was not tense in any way. So, confused as to why I should "relax". Lastly, he used the word CLINGY!)

Which definition of the word 'clingy' was I guilty of?

Since it was via text – I could not have been guilty of definition number
1. To hold fast or adhere to something, as by grasping, sticking, embracing, or entwining:
Now, had I been in his presence, tying myself to him with twine or taffy or duct tape, he would have a case.

Could it be definition number 2?
2. To remain close; resist separation:
Was I resisting separation by wanting to go to the dog park together? The problem is, we have never been close. I barely know the guy.

That leaves definition 3.
3. To remain emotionally attached; hold on:
Okay. This entails that I give a flying fuck about this guy. I do not develop emotional attachments with boys under the age of 25. Actually, I'll go as far as to say under the age of 30. And, I can categorically say that I have not said one thing to this kid that should have given him the impression that I want to pursue an emotional bonding experience with him. I have only been in his physical presence 4 times in my entire life.

And I don't understand the botanist definition.

There are plenty of people who have earned the right to call me 'clingy'. But, in this particular case, I believe it is unwarranted. I am not stalking the 24 year old boy who still lives at home with mommy and daddy! Bloody Hell!

Why do I find all the nut jobs? I am so sick of the crazies. I do not want drama – yet it rides on my back.

PERSONAL NOTE: Make the bad man stop.

13 June 2008

How many bags will you be checking, today?

"Look what I had to overcome from my last life
I'll think I'll write a book
How long 'til my soul gets it right?"
~ Indigo Girls

American Airlines is now charging a fee for all checked baggage. What this will inevitably do, is increase the amount of carry-on baggage passengers begin dragging on the plane with them. It shouldn't be too long before airlines begin charging for carry on bags as well. I know that a lot of people are irritated with the changes in policy and feel like they are being nickel and dimed to death. The fact of the matter is – the airlines are doing what they should have been doing from the beginning – charging for the extra work/energy that is required when people have baggage.

I wish that I could do it. I would love to charge people for their baggage 'emotional or otherwise' when I have to deal with it. Can you imagine how much happier life would be if people were actually held accountable for the impact their baggage has on others? I'd wager that there would be a lot more soul-searching and a lot less, "but my mommy did not love me enough" excuses. Bloody Hell, people!

I am not saying that a bad childhood cannot influence who we become as adults. The thing is – for the love of Pete – there has to be a point where you stand up and take responsibility for your actions and reactions. Everyone had some trauma in their childhood. It is called 'life' and aspects of it could have seemed like Hell. Still, when is the time to stop blaming others for your issues? When do you get to start paying for your own baggage?

People need to carry around 'inventory lists' and hand them out when they meet new friends. That way, educated decisions can be made about beginning any sort of relationship (platonic or otherwise). At job interviews, prospective employees should submit a urine test AND an itemized emotional baggage inventory. That way it is obvious whether you are a meth addict or a codependent lunatic. I would hire the former over the latter.

I was asked the other day why I was writing a book about a serial killer. I tried to explain my reasoning; but I think it just came out as "because I am a crazy person". How does one explain that to exorcise the demons – it is necessary to give them a platform to tell their side? I need to give him a voice. Do I truly believe that a psychic serial killer has stalked me from the age of 12? Not in so many words. But, I also do not believe that his presence is just a figment of my imagination set to 'dream music'.

I have faith in past lives and the reincarnation of energy. I believe we will keep living in some form until we learn what we are supposed to learn. Maybe this is what is meant by "eternal life". That, I cannot fully comprehend with my simple human mind.

I have a lot of baggage to lose this time around. I am an over-packer – always have been. The difference between me and some people is that I acknowledge the baggage is mine. Yes, some of it was given to me by other people – but I have elected to hold onto it. Right now, I could walk away from it all. Start anew. I do not want to do so. I prefer to slowly go through it all and just leave pieces where I can.

Which reminds me; I need to get that shirt back.

Peace Out!

11 June 2008

Adu-mi vodca, curvo!

Actually had someone initiate a conversation with me at the QT today. He must not be from Nebraska. We discussed the non-stop storms and the lousy summer, thus far. Very cordial. Guess my sunshiny disposition and smile encouraged him to come out of his shell. Woo-hoo!

I am glad someone was nice, because this morning was a disaster at home. I woke up late, after a night of tossing and turning – only to find out that two giant unnamed dogs had escaped from the basement in the night and tore the house apart. Garbage everywhere. I pray to high Heaven that neither of those dogs 'marked' the new carpet – or else my parents may go ballistic. I had to wake up my brother (and his girlfriend) to have them clean up since I was running late for work.

Poor little Ebie – having to hang out with such riff-raff. (*actually, I am just glad she was locked in my room so she couldn't join in the 'fun'.) Got in the car and realized that my blurry vision was because my contacts were in the wrong eyes. Exhaustion is a bee-yatch! I had to stop for caffeine on my way to work since I could barely keep my eyes open – even after switching the contacts.

Once at work, I realized that I have three days left of a personalized cubicle. I was informed yesterday that when we relocate to the new area, I am not permitted to hang fabric on my cubicle walls. Supposedly it is distracting! Distracting from what? The beta fish, plants, cartoons, magazine pictures, and decorations on everyone else's desk???? Yes, that makes pure logical sense. My grey fabric and black border ribbon is such a fother mucking distraction! Bloody Hell! How will people ever work with such a BOLD statement on my desk?

There are vendors in the building today – and three of them are sitting in my row, next to me. One of them has conversed more with me in one morning than anyone on my team has for the past 8 days I have been here. Seriously, people!

I know that I seem to have a negative attitude – but truly, I am so grateful for all my good friends – even though 95% of them don't live within 500 miles of here. Hee hee They keep me even tempered and forward-thinking.

Tomorrow, Ebie and I are going to the dog park – unless the sky continues to pour a deluge of water upon the city. Then I don't know what we will do. Though she does have a Day Care temperament interview on Friday afternoon. Yea!!!!!

I hope to start moving furniture into my new place on Friday afternoon after work. Perhaps I will eventually be able to move in. Only 22 or 23 (if my manager actually responds to my time-off request, I will know) days until I am back in Tejas for the 4th of July weekend!!!!!

My life ROCKS! No really, it does. Really!

If you haven't already donated to the 3-day - please do so now by clicking this statement.

PERSONAL NOTE TO A FRIEND: Steer clear of whores, malaria, and rabid dogs! Send my regards to Bollywood!

07 June 2008

Culture Shocked - Party of One

For those who know me; well, for anyone really, the question that is on the tips of tongues is, "Why did you leave Texas to move back to Nebraska?" Some people actually ask, while others give me that inquisitive look, without saying anything at all. I moved back for a lot of reasons. Am I drawn to Nebraska by some unidentified siren? Not so much. I am here because I have a family that needs me right now – and I needed to take a break from the memories.

Sometimes, we make choices that are in our best interest, even though we are not at all interested in making the choice. Self-preservation wins over desire and preference.

I am having some issues adjusting to the more reserved philosophy of living which permeates the Omaha culture. I mean, for example, many people who have only known me casually would most likely describe me as direct, focused, reserved, standoffish, and perhaps 'librarian-like'. Much like I see the people here.

Those who socialize with me can describe a completely different person. First off, I am damn funny. I mean, not comedian – let's take it on tour' – funny; but surprisingly amusing. I am also far more 'wild' than I am generally given credit. Ask anyone who has witnessed my behaviour at a Spazmatics show.

Still, it has taken me a long time to come out of my shell. A big thanks goes out to my D/BFF. Without her – well, I wouldn't have any idea how amazing it is to feel like I belong. I have felt more 'at-home' in my own skin these past 12 months than ever before. Thanks to her, I have often heard the phrase: "You are a lot more fun than I ever gave you credit for." And I like hearing that.

Anyway, my point is that I am doing my best to show Omaha my more fun and friendly side – even though people here are more reserved, in my experience. Thus far, I have startled a guy in the stairwell by saying, 'good morning', received several inquisitive looks when I say 'hello' to people walking past. And even the convenient store clerk was taken aback when I attempted to chit-chat while he was ringing up my iced cappuccino.

The most fun I have had since being here was last night with people from Fort Worth. That isn't to say that I am miserable. I am not. It's just. . . I guess I am homesick. I know it will pass. I also know that I cannot allow myself to crawl back into the safety of my reserved façade. It's lonely behind those castle walls.

PERSONAL NOTE: Love to my peeps in DFW! See you in a month!

05 June 2008

Noone Knows My Name

"Boston" by Augustana

In the light of the sun, is there anyone? Oh it has begun...
Oh dear you look so lost, eyes are red and tears are shed,
This world you must've crossed... you said...

You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,
She said
You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,

Essential yet appealed, carry all your thoughts across
An open field,
When flowers gaze at you... they're not the only ones who cry
When they see you
You said...

You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah,
She said
You don't know me, and you don't wear my chains... oh yeah,

She said I think I'll go to Boston...
I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,
I think I'll get a lover and fly em out to Spain...
I think I'll go to Boston,
I think that I'm just tired
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind...
I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of the sunset,
I hear it's nice in the Summer, some snow would be nice... oh yeah,

Boston... where no one knows my name... yeah
Where no one knows my name...
Where no one knows my name...
Yeah Boston...
Where no one knows my name.

04 June 2008

I understand. Truly, I do.

"Beautiful Disaster" by Jon McLaughlin

She loves her mama's lemonade,
Hates the sound that goodbyes make.
She prays one day she'll find someone to need her.
She swears that there's no difference,
Between the lies and compliments.
It's all the same if everybody leaves her.

And every magazine tells her she's not good enough,
The pictures that she sees make her cry.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between, a beautiful disaster,
And she just needs someone to take her home.

She's giving boys what they want, tries to act so nonchalant,
Afraid they'll see that she's lost her direction.
She never stays the same for long,
Assuming that she'll get it wrong.
Perfect only in her imperfection.

She's not a drama queen,
She doesn't want to feel this way, only seventeen but tired

She would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between, a beautiful disaster,
But she just needs someone to take her home.

Cuz she's just the way she is, but no ones told her that's ok.

And she would change everything, everything just ask her.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

And she would change everything for happy ever after.
Caught in the in between of beautiful disaster,

But she just needs someone to take her home
And she just needs someone to take her home.

Eidetic Vision

Main Entry: ei·det·ic Pronunciation: I-'det-ik Function: adjective : marked by or involving extraordinarily accurate and vivid recall especially of visual images - an eidetic memory Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, © 2002 Merriam-Webster, Inc.