Words cannot express how deep my horror and sorrow is for all the people in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama.
Things will never be the same.
8.30.2005
Pay It Forward
On my way home from work on Monday, I witnessed a car accident on north-bound I-97. A lady a few car lengths in front of me tried to make a lane change but lost control of her gray Saturn, swerved across a few lanes and did a 180 in the middle of the road. Another lady in a Jeep tried to swerve, but was unable to avoid hitting her.
I immediately pulled over when I saw what happened and ran to give assistance if it was needed. A few other people pulled over and stayed with the lady in the Saturn. I ran up to the lady in the Jeep. Her left front fender was decimated and her windshield was cracked. She was understandably shaking and upset.
To make a long story short, I stayed with her and kept her calm thru the process with the EMTs and police and waited with her until her husband got to the scene.
When I flipped my car a couple of months ago, about 10 cars pulled over to offer assistance. They called 911, helped me out of the car, got the stuff from my purse together (because its contents went flying) and even made sure I had my keys and cell phone and shoes before I was strapped into the neck brace and back board and hauled away in the ambulance. I even used a stranger's cell phone to call R and call C to tell him to get the girls from daycare.
In the days that followed the accident and dealing with the whirlwind of insurance and the towing company and a totalled car, along with being extremely sore, there was one thing that bothered me... I never got to thank the people that helped a stranger out of the kindness of their hearts.
So when the lady in the Jeep thanked me profusely for everything I had done, I told her about my own experience. Because in my eyes, I was doing the only thing I could do...
Paying it forward.
I immediately pulled over when I saw what happened and ran to give assistance if it was needed. A few other people pulled over and stayed with the lady in the Saturn. I ran up to the lady in the Jeep. Her left front fender was decimated and her windshield was cracked. She was understandably shaking and upset.
To make a long story short, I stayed with her and kept her calm thru the process with the EMTs and police and waited with her until her husband got to the scene.
When I flipped my car a couple of months ago, about 10 cars pulled over to offer assistance. They called 911, helped me out of the car, got the stuff from my purse together (because its contents went flying) and even made sure I had my keys and cell phone and shoes before I was strapped into the neck brace and back board and hauled away in the ambulance. I even used a stranger's cell phone to call R and call C to tell him to get the girls from daycare.
In the days that followed the accident and dealing with the whirlwind of insurance and the towing company and a totalled car, along with being extremely sore, there was one thing that bothered me... I never got to thank the people that helped a stranger out of the kindness of their hearts.
So when the lady in the Jeep thanked me profusely for everything I had done, I told her about my own experience. Because in my eyes, I was doing the only thing I could do...
Paying it forward.
8.29.2005
Toodledum
And no, I'm not talking about the lost triplet from Alice in Wonderland.
I'm talking about the hoo hoo, kitty, beaver, hair pie... the glorious vagina.
What is so embarrassing and taboo about using the word "vagina?" I don't know, but my sister and I weren't allowed to say it when we were younger. Instead, we were instructed to use the word "toodledum," thanks to my great-grandmother who used it with my mother, who in turn, used it with us.
Yessiree, folks... toodledum.
So, when we were little, we often heard phrases like "Wash your toodledum!" "Make sure you wipe your toodledum after you pee!" and the ubiquitous "Moooom! I got soap in my toodledum and it stings!" while painfully hopping around the bathtub and covering said toodledum with our hands... like that will get the soap out.
When we uttered this word, it was like some kind of magical word, spoken in hushed tones.
You know when you are little and take it for granted that everyone is just like you? So you assume that, of course everyone would say toodledum instead of vagina. But no, everyone else used a semi-normal and recognizable word. But not my family. Our friends would give us the strangest looks, and ask "What's a toodledum?!" Then we would giggle and point. Then they would say something along the lines of "Oh! I call that a pee pee."
Oh, to have used a normal word....
There is one particular memory that sticks out in my mind from my childhood, and that is me at about 4 years old, sitting on my dad's lap. He was trying to watch TV while I climbed all over him and picked at him like a monkey... noting differences in the hair on his arms, his big hands and feet against my little hands and feet, and his bellybutton being an 'innie' while mine was still a semi 'outie.' I then proceeded to stick my finger in his bellybutton.
What possessed me to sniff my finger following that, I'll never know. But I do clearly remember squealing,
"Eww! Your belly button smells like toodedum!"
I'm talking about the hoo hoo, kitty, beaver, hair pie... the glorious vagina.
What is so embarrassing and taboo about using the word "vagina?" I don't know, but my sister and I weren't allowed to say it when we were younger. Instead, we were instructed to use the word "toodledum," thanks to my great-grandmother who used it with my mother, who in turn, used it with us.
Yessiree, folks... toodledum.
So, when we were little, we often heard phrases like "Wash your toodledum!" "Make sure you wipe your toodledum after you pee!" and the ubiquitous "Moooom! I got soap in my toodledum and it stings!" while painfully hopping around the bathtub and covering said toodledum with our hands... like that will get the soap out.
When we uttered this word, it was like some kind of magical word, spoken in hushed tones.
You know when you are little and take it for granted that everyone is just like you? So you assume that, of course everyone would say toodledum instead of vagina. But no, everyone else used a semi-normal and recognizable word. But not my family. Our friends would give us the strangest looks, and ask "What's a toodledum?!" Then we would giggle and point. Then they would say something along the lines of "Oh! I call that a pee pee."
Oh, to have used a normal word....
There is one particular memory that sticks out in my mind from my childhood, and that is me at about 4 years old, sitting on my dad's lap. He was trying to watch TV while I climbed all over him and picked at him like a monkey... noting differences in the hair on his arms, his big hands and feet against my little hands and feet, and his bellybutton being an 'innie' while mine was still a semi 'outie.' I then proceeded to stick my finger in his bellybutton.
What possessed me to sniff my finger following that, I'll never know. But I do clearly remember squealing,
"Eww! Your belly button smells like toodedum!"
8.26.2005
Trelina's Worst Nightmare
Along came a spider..
Aug 25, 11:16 AM (ET)
BERLIN (Reuters) - A German woman was so shocked by a spider crawling across her face that she lost control of her car and crashed head on into a roadside tree, police in the western town of Rheine said on Thursday.
The 23-year-old woman screamed and let go of the steering wheel, causing her small car to veer off the road into the tree. The car was totally destroyed but the woman escaped with only slight injuries, a police spokesman said.
"She was shocked by the spider crawling on her face and lost control of her car," said the spokesman for the police in the small town near the Dutch border. The spider survived, he said.
"He crawled out of the window."
Aug 25, 11:16 AM (ET)
BERLIN (Reuters) - A German woman was so shocked by a spider crawling across her face that she lost control of her car and crashed head on into a roadside tree, police in the western town of Rheine said on Thursday.
The 23-year-old woman screamed and let go of the steering wheel, causing her small car to veer off the road into the tree. The car was totally destroyed but the woman escaped with only slight injuries, a police spokesman said.
"She was shocked by the spider crawling on her face and lost control of her car," said the spokesman for the police in the small town near the Dutch border. The spider survived, he said.
"He crawled out of the window."
8.25.2005
FUBAR
So, this morning I walk into work, and everyone is all in a tizzy.
Why?
Our software servers were down, meaning lots of irate guys from the Pentagon were calling, and at the same time...
WE LOST POWER.
Funny thing is, the servers taking a dump and the power outage had nothing to do with each other - our servers are at the Pentagon, and our actual office location is about 15 miles away. It was pure coincidence.
But being the anal little worker bees we are, people just about shat themselves.
Consequently, I have now tasked myself (with my supervisor's ecstatic approval) with making a disaster recovery plan with actual procedures to follow when something like that happens, so people aren't screaming like the world is ending when something like this happens again. Because we all know, if it happened once, it can happen again.
Murphy's Law is always in effect, especially in the IT field.
So for the next few days, I'm actually putting my OSHA training from the Air Force to good use.
Know what qualifies as hazardous work conditions in the exciting field of chairborne linguists? Electric shock and tripping.
Know what the hazardous work conditions are for most of the IT career fields? Electric shock and tripping.
And, yes, I have been electrically shocked.
During which I yelped really loudly and yelled "Motherfucker!" after throwing the offending object against the wall.
In a room full of people. Of course all heads turned and gaped at me and snickered.
What was I so gloriously shocked by?
My HEADPHONES!
Which I then had to report to the NCOIC.
Who then snickered.
I can't blame him. I mean, who the fuck gets shocked by headphones, for christsake?!
Well, apparently, I do.
And as for tripping...
I am the all time champ.
Yay me.
Why?
Our software servers were down, meaning lots of irate guys from the Pentagon were calling, and at the same time...
WE LOST POWER.
Funny thing is, the servers taking a dump and the power outage had nothing to do with each other - our servers are at the Pentagon, and our actual office location is about 15 miles away. It was pure coincidence.
But being the anal little worker bees we are, people just about shat themselves.
Consequently, I have now tasked myself (with my supervisor's ecstatic approval) with making a disaster recovery plan with actual procedures to follow when something like that happens, so people aren't screaming like the world is ending when something like this happens again. Because we all know, if it happened once, it can happen again.
Murphy's Law is always in effect, especially in the IT field.
So for the next few days, I'm actually putting my OSHA training from the Air Force to good use.
Know what qualifies as hazardous work conditions in the exciting field of chairborne linguists? Electric shock and tripping.
Know what the hazardous work conditions are for most of the IT career fields? Electric shock and tripping.
And, yes, I have been electrically shocked.
During which I yelped really loudly and yelled "Motherfucker!" after throwing the offending object against the wall.
In a room full of people. Of course all heads turned and gaped at me and snickered.
What was I so gloriously shocked by?
My HEADPHONES!
Which I then had to report to the NCOIC.
Who then snickered.
I can't blame him. I mean, who the fuck gets shocked by headphones, for christsake?!
Well, apparently, I do.
And as for tripping...
I am the all time champ.
Yay me.
8.23.2005
Nothing clever to say
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
I've had absolutely nothing clever to say lately. I don't even have any witty observations to make on OTHER people's writings.
Why? No particular reason, other than running around like a chicken with it's head cut off because it's "back to our regularly scheduled program" time of the year. School. Soccer. Brownies. Throw in divorce proceedings, my father's visit next week, Ashlyn's surgery consult next week and the resulting coordination of 3 doctors' input and CT scan reports and films... all I can say is ACK!
Now I have to pee.
I've had absolutely nothing clever to say lately. I don't even have any witty observations to make on OTHER people's writings.
Why? No particular reason, other than running around like a chicken with it's head cut off because it's "back to our regularly scheduled program" time of the year. School. Soccer. Brownies. Throw in divorce proceedings, my father's visit next week, Ashlyn's surgery consult next week and the resulting coordination of 3 doctors' input and CT scan reports and films... all I can say is ACK!
Now I have to pee.
8.19.2005
Best of Craigslist
This shit is too funny not to pass along.
Pseudo terrorism on the DC Metro:
I'm Brown, on the Metro and Messin with Your Head Oh My God this is fucking HILARIOUS
DC Metro Foils Al-Qaeda Plot So so so true
Masturbation Mishaps are funny, and people like to post about them:
Stories Better Left Untold Eeew Are all people from Phoenix like this?
I Don't Know About Blindness, But Masturbation Can Be Dangerous This is sooo something that would happen to me... if I were a guy, with a cat.
So, You're Showing My Apartment Minus the gay porn, an approximation of this HAS happened to me.
That's all, folks!
Pseudo terrorism on the DC Metro:
I'm Brown, on the Metro and Messin with Your Head Oh My God this is fucking HILARIOUS
DC Metro Foils Al-Qaeda Plot So so so true
Masturbation Mishaps are funny, and people like to post about them:
Stories Better Left Untold Eeew Are all people from Phoenix like this?
I Don't Know About Blindness, But Masturbation Can Be Dangerous This is sooo something that would happen to me... if I were a guy, with a cat.
So, You're Showing My Apartment Minus the gay porn, an approximation of this HAS happened to me.
That's all, folks!
Booty call
I made my first booty call EVER night before last.
Of course, it was to R, who was downstairs.
Hey, I never said I wasn't lazy.
I called him on his cell and asked if he could come upstairs for a few minutes - he thought I wanted something to drink or that I was mad about something. So he came upstairs all worried, and I pounced. I made a comment about a booty call, and we both busted out laughing.
Ahh... I love being a woman.
Of course, it was to R, who was downstairs.
Hey, I never said I wasn't lazy.
I called him on his cell and asked if he could come upstairs for a few minutes - he thought I wanted something to drink or that I was mad about something. So he came upstairs all worried, and I pounced. I made a comment about a booty call, and we both busted out laughing.
Ahh... I love being a woman.
8.17.2005
Whose your (baby's) daddy?!
I went and got my oil changed in R's Explorer today.
While I was waiting, The Maury Show was on, and it was one of those 'who is my baby's daddy' DNA shows. This idiot girl had been on the show previously trying to find out who the fathers of her three children were... TWELVE times.
How humiliating must that be? Why would anyone voluntarily do that on national TV?
I just don't get it.
While I was waiting, The Maury Show was on, and it was one of those 'who is my baby's daddy' DNA shows. This idiot girl had been on the show previously trying to find out who the fathers of her three children were... TWELVE times.
How humiliating must that be? Why would anyone voluntarily do that on national TV?
I just don't get it.
What's in a name?
Shamelessly swiped from my Soul Sistah.
1. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (Name of first pet / Street you live on):
Mitzy Candlelight
2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (Name of your favorite snack food / Grandfather's first name):
Oreo James
3. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (First word you see on your left / Favorite restaurant):
Clear Fuddruckers
4. EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice / Last Foreign Vacation Spot):
Cilantro Limerick
5. SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname / Town Where You First Partied):
Shelly-bean Tokyo
6. "FLY GIRL/BOY" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial / First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name):
M.Co
7. ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight / Any Liquid in Your Kitchen):
Soda Dawn
8. DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal / Where You Went to High School):
Squirrel Westwood
9. BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate / Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink):
Trailmix Kahlua
10. SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name / Street Where You First Lived):
Marie Alta Villa
11. ROCK STAR ALIAS: (Favorite Candy / Last Name Of Favorite Musician):
Mamba Morisette
12. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: ( First 2 letters of your first name and the first 3 Letters from your last name makes your first name. Take the first 2 letters of your mother's maiden name and the first 3 letters of the city you were born in):
Micov Gahei
My Star Wars name sounds like I'm choking up a hairball.
I like Mitzy Candlelight and Oreo James.
1. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (Name of first pet / Street you live on):
Mitzy Candlelight
2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (Name of your favorite snack food / Grandfather's first name):
Oreo James
3. YOUR FASHION DESIGNER NAME: (First word you see on your left / Favorite restaurant):
Clear Fuddruckers
4. EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS: (Favorite Spice / Last Foreign Vacation Spot):
Cilantro Limerick
5. SOCIALITE ALIAS: (Silliest Childhood Nickname / Town Where You First Partied):
Shelly-bean Tokyo
6. "FLY GIRL/BOY" ALIAS (a la J. Lo): (First Initial / First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name):
M.Co
7. ICON ALIAS: (Something Sweet Within Sight / Any Liquid in Your Kitchen):
Soda Dawn
8. DETECTIVE ALIAS: (Favorite Baby Animal / Where You Went to High School):
Squirrel Westwood
9. BARFLY ALIAS: (Last Snack Food You Ate / Your Favorite Alcoholic Drink):
Trailmix Kahlua
10. SOAP OPERA ALIAS: (Middle Name / Street Where You First Lived):
Marie Alta Villa
11. ROCK STAR ALIAS: (Favorite Candy / Last Name Of Favorite Musician):
Mamba Morisette
12. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: ( First 2 letters of your first name and the first 3 Letters from your last name makes your first name. Take the first 2 letters of your mother's maiden name and the first 3 letters of the city you were born in):
Micov Gahei
My Star Wars name sounds like I'm choking up a hairball.
I like Mitzy Candlelight and Oreo James.
8.15.2005
Hey Mom, I wanna go (but they won't let me go ) home!
I spoke with my mom yesterday and found out that she is moving to Texas with her boyfriend... in OCTOBER! I though they were going next year at the earliest, but they put a contract on a house and if it is accepted, they close in mid-September. Ack!
What is my point to all this?
After October, I no longer have a place to call "home." The house and even the town I consider to be the answer when people ask "Where are you from?" will no longer be mine. I will have no connection to them other than memory, because that house and my fractured family will no longer be there.
It is a very odd, sort of sad feeling.
I feel like a safety net has been removed from below me and I am unsteadily traversing the high wire, trying not to look down.
I just hope when I make it to the other side, in all my sequined glory, that the hands of my loved ones are there reaching out to help me onto the platform. Then I will triumphantly yell, "HEY!!"
Can someone toss me a balancing pole?
What is my point to all this?
After October, I no longer have a place to call "home." The house and even the town I consider to be the answer when people ask "Where are you from?" will no longer be mine. I will have no connection to them other than memory, because that house and my fractured family will no longer be there.
It is a very odd, sort of sad feeling.
I feel like a safety net has been removed from below me and I am unsteadily traversing the high wire, trying not to look down.
I just hope when I make it to the other side, in all my sequined glory, that the hands of my loved ones are there reaching out to help me onto the platform. Then I will triumphantly yell, "HEY!!"
Can someone toss me a balancing pole?
8.09.2005
Hope
After a long marriage and semi-messy divorce, at what point do you consider remarriage and the prospect of having more children?
The subject has come up in general conversation between R and I recently and I find myself feeling pretty ambivalent. My ambivalence is soley based on time - even tho there is no pressure to make any decisions from either of us. I HAVE been separated for a year and 7 months and am over what happened in my marriage to the extent that I am no longer assigning blame and feeling angry or sad. But I am not over the loss of hope that I experienced in my first marriage. That was devastating.
On one hand, the prospect of remarriage and possibly another baby scares the living shit out of me, considering my not-quite-final divorce (I've blogged extensively about the end of my marriage) . The last thing I want is another divorce. Add to that two formerly confused kids, one of which is still so young that the sleepless nights, breast feeding, and poopy diapers of a newborn and the frustrated, non-verbal communications of a howling toddler are still very recent and vivid memories, so the prospect of having a child with someone new holds no romanticized visions of family utopia.
But on the other hand, I have no doubt that I want to remarry. I feel that if your relationship is serious enough to live together with the intention of dealing with all of life's little ups and downs together, that you should be committed enough to each other to want to get married and make it work. And a marriage to someone that is supportive, patient, loving, and affectionate to me AND my girls could be the answer to my secret wishes for a semi-realistic happily-ever-after, and adding a another baby to the mix could just enhance that feeling, instead of detract from it.
I guess time will tell.
After all, hope springs eternal.
The subject has come up in general conversation between R and I recently and I find myself feeling pretty ambivalent. My ambivalence is soley based on time - even tho there is no pressure to make any decisions from either of us. I HAVE been separated for a year and 7 months and am over what happened in my marriage to the extent that I am no longer assigning blame and feeling angry or sad. But I am not over the loss of hope that I experienced in my first marriage. That was devastating.
On one hand, the prospect of remarriage and possibly another baby scares the living shit out of me, considering my not-quite-final divorce (I've blogged extensively about the end of my marriage) . The last thing I want is another divorce. Add to that two formerly confused kids, one of which is still so young that the sleepless nights, breast feeding, and poopy diapers of a newborn and the frustrated, non-verbal communications of a howling toddler are still very recent and vivid memories, so the prospect of having a child with someone new holds no romanticized visions of family utopia.
But on the other hand, I have no doubt that I want to remarry. I feel that if your relationship is serious enough to live together with the intention of dealing with all of life's little ups and downs together, that you should be committed enough to each other to want to get married and make it work. And a marriage to someone that is supportive, patient, loving, and affectionate to me AND my girls could be the answer to my secret wishes for a semi-realistic happily-ever-after, and adding a another baby to the mix could just enhance that feeling, instead of detract from it.
I guess time will tell.
After all, hope springs eternal.
Glutton for Punishment
Today, Lauren and Ashlyn are staying home with R, at Lauren's request.
heh heh heh
Of course, I hope this will be a bonding experience for them all, but I still can't help but chuckle because R has never had to play referee for more than say... 2 hours while I ran errands.
He is expecting no problems that he can't handle, and honestly, I don't foresee any problems either because he is a calm and fair guy who is used to dealing with them now, but the constant back and forth of a bossy 8 y/o and a bratty 4 y/o can try the patience of a saint.
In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny...
He don't know them vewy well, do he?
heh heh heh
Of course, I hope this will be a bonding experience for them all, but I still can't help but chuckle because R has never had to play referee for more than say... 2 hours while I ran errands.
He is expecting no problems that he can't handle, and honestly, I don't foresee any problems either because he is a calm and fair guy who is used to dealing with them now, but the constant back and forth of a bossy 8 y/o and a bratty 4 y/o can try the patience of a saint.
In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny...
He don't know them vewy well, do he?
8.08.2005
In walks the dog...
There you are, having a nice, quiet Sunday dinner with your in-laws and the minister and his wife... and in walks the dog.
No, that is not my dog or my dildo, but it is a hilarious picture. Thanks to Roger and Ron's blog.
Honestly, I don't really get the suction cup ones... I know how you use it, but I'm really tall and it would seem hard to position right, and there are only certain surfaces it would stick to... or maybe I'm just lazy.
Besides, it doesn't vibrate, so it's just another unemotional dick, am I right?
And yes, a situation similar to the above, if not as publicly horrifying, has happened to me.
Of course it has! It is ME we are talking about!
A couple of years ago, I was in the bathroom attached to the master bedroom doing girly stuff (plucking my eyebrows, if you really must know.)
In runs my then-2-year-old, Ashlyn, waving something around like a sword, yelling "Hiiiiii yaaaah!!! Mommy, I a pirate!!"
What, exactly, was my blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel waving around, you ask?
My VIBRATOR that I had left in my partially-open nightstand drawer after indulging in a little self pleasure the night before.
I have never snatched something out of my children's hands so quickly... not even steak knives.
The only ones who speak the truth are children and fools
This weekend was great. My two rugrats were home, so, R and the girls and I hung out and watched tv and made cookies and painted our fingernails and toenails hot pink (well, not R).
On Friday, the girls got some miniature Barbies in their Happy Meals and as soon as they got home, they had to find a male doll of equal size to play the boyfriend/hero/stinky-boy harrasser role. They found Mr. Incredible, aka Bob. R was quickly elected to play Bob. But mass confusion ensued when R chose to use Ralph as his name (said in a hero voice, of course), not Bob. "His name isn't Ralph, it's Bob!" echoed the chorus of giggling voices. After trading a few barbs, Ralph then proceeded to unceremoniously punch Fairy Princess Magical Pegasus Barbie in the face, thereby defeating her magical powers. (Ralph was playing the stinky-boy harrasser role this time.) Baaaad Ralph.
On Sunday, my little angels got into a waterfight while they were playing outside with a little neighbor girl (it was really hot) and drenched the house carrying water in and out, AND they ate what I was planning to have for dinner for a 'snack,' so they are grounded from tv and playing outside for the rest of yesterday and today. The bad thing about punishment is that it punishes the parents too, because you have taken away their normal modes of entertainment, which leads to much whining and squabbling. Sigh...
The most amusing part of the weekend occured on Saturday while I was sitting at the computer desk in our family room, surfing the web with R and Ashlyn sitting on the couch a couple feet away and Lauren standing behind me. I was on Yahoo's homepage, and there was a picture of Michael Jackson that accompanied an article dicussing how he was buying a home in Bahrain and planning to move there. Here is our conversation:
Lauren: Who is that?
Me: Michael Jackson
L: That's Michael Jackson?!
M: Yup. (chuckling)
L: He looks like a girl!
M and R: laughing out loud
L: And I thought he was black!
M and R: laughing uncontrollably
(I then proceed to google Michael Jackson's images to show her the differences.)
L (totally incredulous): I can't wait to tell all my friends what Michael Jackson really looks like!
Sometimes, an eight-year-old can show the wisdom of the ages.
8.05.2005
Friday I'm in love....
Yes, I am in love. I am in love with a chick leaving my job, because today we are having a farewell breakfast with fresh fruit, orange juice, coffee and Krispy Kreme donuts! YAY! Oh, and I love my boyfriend, my daughters, my family and my friends too, of course. But they are secondary to my Krispy Kreme and coffee orgasmic bliss right now. I'll think about them later.
**********************
I actually don't feel guilty blogging at work right now because I am LOCKED OUT of the network drive where my documents are stored. Why? I have no friggin' clue. It was fine yesterday, and my co-worker is able to access the drive today, but not me. So I will blog and read other blogs and read the news until my IT problem is solved by the IT guy who is never at his desk. Gee, what a shame.
I'm leaving work a couple hours early today anyway because both my girls have an eye check up.
***********************
Speaking of an eye check up, my oldest daughter has the same condition in her left eye, amblyopia, that I do. She has to wear glasses and a patch for a couple hours a day when she is at home to force her brain to use her left eye correctly. So far, she has taken the news in stride, because she thinks it's cool to wear glasses like her mom. But we shall see when she starts third grade.
My youngest daughter has an eye appointment today too. I always find these kinda funny on young kids because they can't READ an eye chart. The doctors try to use symbols on eye charts for young children, but that is hit or miss, too. So her appointment ought to be interesting.
When I was little, I HATED my glasses. I've had them since I was old enough to wear them, so for about 30 1/2 years. I hid my glasses in trees, I buried them, and once I even hid them in the neighbor's dog house. My poor mother could be seen walking around the housing complex on Ft Bragg, me in tow, about once a week asking "Do you remember if you played here? Did you take them off here?" And I would feign innocence and pretend that I had honestly lost my glasses and had no earthly idea where they were, when I secretly knew they were stuck in some tree. Of couse, by that time, I really didn't have a clue which tree they were in anymore.
This is when I perfected my "who... me?!?!" expression of indignation and incredulity.
It has served me well.
**********************
I actually don't feel guilty blogging at work right now because I am LOCKED OUT of the network drive where my documents are stored. Why? I have no friggin' clue. It was fine yesterday, and my co-worker is able to access the drive today, but not me. So I will blog and read other blogs and read the news until my IT problem is solved by the IT guy who is never at his desk. Gee, what a shame.
I'm leaving work a couple hours early today anyway because both my girls have an eye check up.
***********************
Speaking of an eye check up, my oldest daughter has the same condition in her left eye, amblyopia, that I do. She has to wear glasses and a patch for a couple hours a day when she is at home to force her brain to use her left eye correctly. So far, she has taken the news in stride, because she thinks it's cool to wear glasses like her mom. But we shall see when she starts third grade.
My youngest daughter has an eye appointment today too. I always find these kinda funny on young kids because they can't READ an eye chart. The doctors try to use symbols on eye charts for young children, but that is hit or miss, too. So her appointment ought to be interesting.
When I was little, I HATED my glasses. I've had them since I was old enough to wear them, so for about 30 1/2 years. I hid my glasses in trees, I buried them, and once I even hid them in the neighbor's dog house. My poor mother could be seen walking around the housing complex on Ft Bragg, me in tow, about once a week asking "Do you remember if you played here? Did you take them off here?" And I would feign innocence and pretend that I had honestly lost my glasses and had no earthly idea where they were, when I secretly knew they were stuck in some tree. Of couse, by that time, I really didn't have a clue which tree they were in anymore.
This is when I perfected my "who... me?!?!" expression of indignation and incredulity.
It has served me well.
8.03.2005
Elementary, Dear Watson!
This photo warning people what NOT to do in the London subway system is fucking great.
Too bad the guy was Brazillian and had nothing to do with the bombings, but you should NEVER act like a stupid asshole during a crisis who doesn't follow police direction and starts RUNNING, with a BACKPACK wearing a HEAVY COAT in JULY onto the London subways that were bombed by terrorists a few days earlier.
Hopefully a quintuple tap to the head will serve as enough warning for any other dumb asses with a bad attitude around the subways.
Take heed, because the London police ain't fucking around!
I think he should be nominated for the Darwin Awards.
Too bad the guy was Brazillian and had nothing to do with the bombings, but you should NEVER act like a stupid asshole during a crisis who doesn't follow police direction and starts RUNNING, with a BACKPACK wearing a HEAVY COAT in JULY onto the London subways that were bombed by terrorists a few days earlier.
Hopefully a quintuple tap to the head will serve as enough warning for any other dumb asses with a bad attitude around the subways.
Take heed, because the London police ain't fucking around!
I think he should be nominated for the Darwin Awards.
8.02.2005
Players only loooove you when they're plaaaaying
The original post title for this was "Goodbye Ruby Tuesday" - gotta love the Stones. But have you ever tried thinking of song lyrics for every day of the week? I'm okay with Monday and Friday - those are nice, vague lyrics. Tuesday... well, it's morning and I am not encrusted in gems, so the 'Goodbye Ruby' part of that title seems kind of bizarre. I am seriously fucked for Wednesday and Thursday, unless I choose the days of the week descriptions from "Friday I'm In Love," and I certainly don't want my heart broken today or tomorrow according to those lyrics (look it up, non-Cure fan losers), so I find myself in a quandry. Argh
**************************
So, as you can probably tell from the nonsensical bullshit about song lyrics stated above, I have been very scattered the last couple of days. Everything is a tangent. Heeellooooo ADHD. I started 2 posts yesterday and didn't finish/post them because *surprise* they make no sense.
**************************
My weekend was very good. Saturday was spent sleeping late, then just chillin' with R, my man, all day. Sunday we slept late again, then hung out and got ready and went to dinner with Trelina and Russ, my bestest bud and her hubby. This sounds dorky, but when you are part of a couple, it's always nice to have another couple with whom to hang out and chill. We went to La Palapa in historic Ellicot City - it was very cool.
And I have been a bad friend since R got home from school and have been ignoring my friends because I prefer to spend most of my time with him, so it was nice for ALL of us to get out of the house, get liquored up and chow down.
We all had a great time, I think, and my faith in humanity was renewed. :)
****************************
Speaking of R, things between he and I are going really well the majority of the time, which kind of surprises both of us, honestly, because we are around each other ALL THE TIME. I thought we would be sick of each other and the lack of privacy by now since we've been living together for 6 months, but we are both still eager to see each other every day. It's a nice feeling.
Our main problem with each other lies with other people. Other women he is/was involved with in my case, and other men I am/was involved with in his case.
I'm usually not the jealous type, but considering his past involvements WHILE he was dating me (allbeit long distance dating, so I have to cut him some slack there) I have some trust issues with him. From my point of view (because this is MY blog, dammit), he keeps in touch with so many women, alot of whom like him as more than a friend, that I feel like I'm part of a harem. What unsettles me the most is that sometimes I feel like if he and I were to split up, he would just roll right out of bed with me and into the next girl's bed, with no second thoughts or regrets. I mean, doesn't EVERYONE want to feel like they have more impact in their lover's life than that?
I reeeeaaaally don't like feeling insecure. I never really have before, so this is a new and unwelcome feeling. This is going to make me sound conceited, but in all my previous relationships, I always felt very very sure of the guy's feelings for me, and in most cases, that their feelings for me were stronger than my feelings for them. Which is just the way I liked it - in control. I always felt like I could walk away, no harm, no foul (at least to myself) and I always did.
I can think of three guys I dated (including recycled boyfriend and R.) that I didn't feel so secure with, and guess what? Those are the guys I liked/loved the most. In hindsight, I think I liked the challenge of trying to win them over and proving I was cooler, sweeter, and sexier than any other woman that was vying for their attention. I guess this is where competitiveness rears it's ugly head in my life. I'm not competitive in most things - sports, games, jobs, whatever. But in the game of love, I loooove to WIN.
For example, the weekend after I found out that R was cheating on me in Texas, he was due to fly into B-more for Thanksgiving. So what did I do? Pull the pathetic victim and meet him in tears? Noooooo. I met him at the airport in a tight sweater, wrap-around miniskirt, thigh high stockings, high heels, and no panties. I greeted him cooly at the security gate, we walked out to the parking garage, loaded his bag, and got in the car. Then I took his hand and slid it up my thigh to my freshly shaved kitty while I looked him in the eye and slowly smiled. His reaction? Instant arousal along with 'Holy shit, this girl is cool!' My thought process on this? 'I'll show him who to be begging to fuck, and it won't be some whiney, crying little bitch in Texas.' Needless to say, we didn't make it home for a loooong time, and I live 10 minutes from the airport.
You can't fuck with me, bitches, so don't even try.
**************************
So, as you can probably tell from the nonsensical bullshit about song lyrics stated above, I have been very scattered the last couple of days. Everything is a tangent. Heeellooooo ADHD. I started 2 posts yesterday and didn't finish/post them because *surprise* they make no sense.
**************************
My weekend was very good. Saturday was spent sleeping late, then just chillin' with R, my man, all day. Sunday we slept late again, then hung out and got ready and went to dinner with Trelina and Russ, my bestest bud and her hubby. This sounds dorky, but when you are part of a couple, it's always nice to have another couple with whom to hang out and chill. We went to La Palapa in historic Ellicot City - it was very cool.
And I have been a bad friend since R got home from school and have been ignoring my friends because I prefer to spend most of my time with him, so it was nice for ALL of us to get out of the house, get liquored up and chow down.
We all had a great time, I think, and my faith in humanity was renewed. :)
****************************
Speaking of R, things between he and I are going really well the majority of the time, which kind of surprises both of us, honestly, because we are around each other ALL THE TIME. I thought we would be sick of each other and the lack of privacy by now since we've been living together for 6 months, but we are both still eager to see each other every day. It's a nice feeling.
Our main problem with each other lies with other people. Other women he is/was involved with in my case, and other men I am/was involved with in his case.
I'm usually not the jealous type, but considering his past involvements WHILE he was dating me (allbeit long distance dating, so I have to cut him some slack there) I have some trust issues with him. From my point of view (because this is MY blog, dammit), he keeps in touch with so many women, alot of whom like him as more than a friend, that I feel like I'm part of a harem. What unsettles me the most is that sometimes I feel like if he and I were to split up, he would just roll right out of bed with me and into the next girl's bed, with no second thoughts or regrets. I mean, doesn't EVERYONE want to feel like they have more impact in their lover's life than that?
I reeeeaaaally don't like feeling insecure. I never really have before, so this is a new and unwelcome feeling. This is going to make me sound conceited, but in all my previous relationships, I always felt very very sure of the guy's feelings for me, and in most cases, that their feelings for me were stronger than my feelings for them. Which is just the way I liked it - in control. I always felt like I could walk away, no harm, no foul (at least to myself) and I always did.
I can think of three guys I dated (including recycled boyfriend and R.) that I didn't feel so secure with, and guess what? Those are the guys I liked/loved the most. In hindsight, I think I liked the challenge of trying to win them over and proving I was cooler, sweeter, and sexier than any other woman that was vying for their attention. I guess this is where competitiveness rears it's ugly head in my life. I'm not competitive in most things - sports, games, jobs, whatever. But in the game of love, I loooove to WIN.
For example, the weekend after I found out that R was cheating on me in Texas, he was due to fly into B-more for Thanksgiving. So what did I do? Pull the pathetic victim and meet him in tears? Noooooo. I met him at the airport in a tight sweater, wrap-around miniskirt, thigh high stockings, high heels, and no panties. I greeted him cooly at the security gate, we walked out to the parking garage, loaded his bag, and got in the car. Then I took his hand and slid it up my thigh to my freshly shaved kitty while I looked him in the eye and slowly smiled. His reaction? Instant arousal along with 'Holy shit, this girl is cool!' My thought process on this? 'I'll show him who to be begging to fuck, and it won't be some whiney, crying little bitch in Texas.' Needless to say, we didn't make it home for a loooong time, and I live 10 minutes from the airport.
You can't fuck with me, bitches, so don't even try.
Little things I like and dislike about men
Like a lot of women, I love lists. I make to do lists, bill lists, party lists, decorating lists... you name it.
So here is a list of things little things I find attractive, or not, in men:
Quirky Ons:
Facial hair, especially a nice goatee.
Hair on the chest and on the belly.
Nice ass, especially in jeans.
Tight legs.
Broad shoulders.
Short hair.
Men in uniform - i.e., military, cops, and firemen.
A guy who dances even though he knows he stinks at it but has a good time anyway.
Bedhead.
Banter and wit.
Intelligence.
Acknowledging that I am just as smart or smarter than he is.
Drinking a beer from the bottle.
Nice fingernails - doesn't have to be a manicure, just short and clean.
Someone who will shake my hand and look me in the eye like I’m an equal, not just a chick.
Manners.
Bald or shaved head, especially with a goatee.
Good cook.
Tattoos.
Deep voices.
Musky, spicy cologne.
Accents.
Worldly.
Open minded.
Says my name. A lot.
Tells me they are impressed by something I do or know and means it. Not saying it to just try and get in my pants.
Thinks about what I want in bed.
Quirky offs:
Guys who have long fingernails. (ouch!)
Bad skin.
Floral or soapy cologne.
Too much cologne.
Insincere compliments.
Treating me like I’m fragile or stupid.
Talking to me like I couldn’t possibly understand what you’re discussing.
Chain smoking. (Smoking while drinking is ok)
Being late without a phone call.
Dominating the conversation.
Telling me I shouldn’t curse so much because I’m a girl. (Fuck you!)
Telling me what to do, period.
Being too concerned about how he looks or what he’s wearing.
Patting my back or shoulders during hugs or affection - I feel like I'm being dismissed.
Unkempt hair.
Dirty hands.
No table manners.
Ignorance.
Close-mindedness.
Religious zealot.
Wears shirts with holes and stains out.
Ideas courtesy of Great Googly Moogly and Andie Pandie.
So here is a list of things little things I find attractive, or not, in men:
Quirky Ons:
Facial hair, especially a nice goatee.
Hair on the chest and on the belly.
Nice ass, especially in jeans.
Tight legs.
Broad shoulders.
Short hair.
Men in uniform - i.e., military, cops, and firemen.
A guy who dances even though he knows he stinks at it but has a good time anyway.
Bedhead.
Banter and wit.
Intelligence.
Acknowledging that I am just as smart or smarter than he is.
Drinking a beer from the bottle.
Nice fingernails - doesn't have to be a manicure, just short and clean.
Someone who will shake my hand and look me in the eye like I’m an equal, not just a chick.
Manners.
Bald or shaved head, especially with a goatee.
Good cook.
Tattoos.
Deep voices.
Musky, spicy cologne.
Accents.
Worldly.
Open minded.
Says my name. A lot.
Tells me they are impressed by something I do or know and means it. Not saying it to just try and get in my pants.
Thinks about what I want in bed.
Quirky offs:
Guys who have long fingernails. (ouch!)
Bad skin.
Floral or soapy cologne.
Too much cologne.
Insincere compliments.
Treating me like I’m fragile or stupid.
Talking to me like I couldn’t possibly understand what you’re discussing.
Chain smoking. (Smoking while drinking is ok)
Being late without a phone call.
Dominating the conversation.
Telling me I shouldn’t curse so much because I’m a girl. (Fuck you!)
Telling me what to do, period.
Being too concerned about how he looks or what he’s wearing.
Patting my back or shoulders during hugs or affection - I feel like I'm being dismissed.
Unkempt hair.
Dirty hands.
No table manners.
Ignorance.
Close-mindedness.
Religious zealot.
Wears shirts with holes and stains out.
Ideas courtesy of Great Googly Moogly and Andie Pandie.
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