So there I was... surrounded by the chill of the early morning on the coldest day in Florida in 10 years. (No, I'm not sure about that, but it was FREAKIN cold.) Anyway, so I'm making my coffee and my yummy toaster waffles in this freezing weather. My coffee was started and finished first because let's be honest, toaster waffles take 2 minutes tops. I'm minding my own business stirring this delicious creamer (Italian creme if you are so interested) waiting for the pop of the toaster.
waiting... take a sip....
waiting... take a sip....
waiting... take a *POP* "Omigod"
Yup, spilled coffee all over my face, almost burned my eyebrows off.. its a good thing my eyes are lighting quick in closing or my friends, I could be blinded. That would not only suck because now I'm blind, but I'm blind and it's self-inflicted, no wait, I'm blind, it's self-inflicted AND it was a freak hot coffee accident. There is no way to live down that story. Like ever.
Just in case you were wondering, yes, that woke me up and no longer felt cold due to the adrenalin rush the popping of the waffle sent through my body.
Anyway, which brings me to the topic of startling myself. Everyone knows I hate getting scared. I find practical jokes, not funny - even mean. I find scary movies unsettling, and yes, my subconscious still works against me (I get nightmares). I've dealt with this, so I oft wonder (yes, I said oft, instead of often because I'm changing my vocabulary... it'll catch on, watch - mayhaps did)... so I oft wonder if I should blame my parents for this fear of fearing things... Going on, I hate getting scared because I can scare myself just fine without pyrotechnics, digital mastery of any kind, and masks. Some things are worse when you know they are coming.
Let me explain:
First story: (THIS IS A SPOILER FOR A REALLY OLD MOVIE) So I was watching a movie on USA at a friend's house, called Deep Blue Sea where this shark has the brain of a smart person, no not really a horror movie hence why I was watching it, anyway, there is this scene where Samuel L. Jackson does this whole Braveheart speech moment... you know, where there should be a slow clapper in the background. I'm kinda like, "ok, I get it, let's get this fucking fish"... not, one second later, the SHARK FLIES OUT OF THE WATER AND SWALLOWS SAMUEL L. JACKSON WHOLE! It scared the bejezzus out of me! So much so, I screamed, jumped, and somehow turned the TV off in one movement. Wrecked the movie for everyone else because they were watching it too, but they were laughing at me because I scared them more than the actual scene... whatever.
Second story: I like to read. Books don't usually scare me. I can get into a book and see it in my head like a movie. I love it when it happens because the hours just pass by and its so much more intense. So I'll sit there reading something awesome like Harry Potter fighting with wands, running down the endless hallway, oh no, and there's Bellatrix... WATCH OUT SIRIUS! *RRRRRIIIIINNNGGGG* I jump, 5 feet because my phone rings. I might as well been jinxed because now I'm pretty sure I have to change my underwear.
This isn't even the normal stuff that scares me. When I'm driving and I see flashing lights out of nowhere, my heart goes into my stomach, I swerve for no reason in particular, then I realize there was a bump in the road behind me and the lights weren't even flashing. OR if it's nighttime and I forget I have dogs around me and one of them barks because of the TV and I go flying off the couch.... yeah that sucks and I get irrationally mad at the dog that was warning me from an alien invasion.
The worst though, I must admit has been something I have been afraid of since childhood. It's stupid, but I still have to have someone else do it for my fear is so intense.
Yes, people... popping open a cinnamon buns can.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Never ever shake a baby...
So there I was... surrounded by 17 three years olds... Ok, I can handle a LOT of things, usually these same children... but not today. Today these children were taken over by the devil and I needed a priest. First, three of the angel children I usually have decided to get an attitude and repeatedly said "I want my mommy", "..but I'm COLD", and "AHHHHHH", not in that order but just as annoying... THEN my usual "misfits" decide to go the extra mile and start hitting people, throwing jackets and mulch for the fun of it... I couldn't get control of these kids without an electric collar. Luckily, I did get help (yes, other people realized how overwhelmed I was) and 4 kids were taken out. I'm ok with that.
My problem is:
1) My experience level with this many small people (at that age).
2) My ways of "solving" an issue
Ok, I don't yell if I can help it. I don't think yelling solves much except to tell this kid, "This is my limit... please keep pushing." I am better at not reacting than reacting. Trust me, when a kid becomes super dramatic, they hate people like me.
KID: "I WANT THAT TOY!!!!"
Me: "Well, someone else is playing with it"
KID: "BUT I WANT IT!!!"
Me: "I hear you but its not an option"
KID: "I WANT IT!!"
Me: "I hear you but its not an option"
(that refrain might be repeated a dozen times or so)
Then-
KID: "I WANT MY MOMMY"
Me: "I do too, she'll be here later, I promise"
Kid: ".....oh....k...."
That's how it usually happens anyway. I just don't want to yell and my distracting tactics are muddled in my brain so I can't think on my feet like I used to (thanks Alcohol, you're a great help, next time kill the brain cells that remember "diarrhea incident"). On days like this I totally remember why I don't have kids. Though in all fairness, I can spank my kids if I need to (although that is not my main punishment).
Anyway, it like threatening them is the only way to get my way, "no more housekeeping for you if you continue", "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to hold on to your sticker until you decide to behave again", "I think you'll have to sit by me or go inside the 2 year old room and sit with the babies" - all effective but I don't feel comfortable doing it.
I mean, I like to give choices:
a) come sit down with me
b) go sit down inside away from your friends
Stubborn dirty hands
A) Wash your hands and eat snack
B) I'll wait to until you have clean hands to give you snack
Kids fighting over toys
a) Do you want to go to time out?
b) Do you want me to put the toy in time out?
I feel like if they have more control over their destiny they are more likely to comply (which I know to be true for lots of children), HOWEVER, I find myself wanting to say stupid things like, "Oh, I'm sorry you cannot play with my toys", or "No dinosaurs FOR YOU!", or "I control the stickers, you control your behavior" (They are three and while the first two they'll understand, I feel like they will mimic these mean things to other children and then the whole, "You're not my friend," "you can't come to my birthday party" begins.
Of course, I always fall back to, "oh, if we are not friends, we cannot play" then all of a sudden, Jesus is resurrected and all is fine again. Truly, the mind of a three year old is awesome, I just wish I could squash it sometimes...
So today, I went back to the mantra that I have learned that keeps me peaceful and reminds me of how precious these children really are:
"Never EVER shake a baby"
My problem is:
1) My experience level with this many small people (at that age).
2) My ways of "solving" an issue
Ok, I don't yell if I can help it. I don't think yelling solves much except to tell this kid, "This is my limit... please keep pushing." I am better at not reacting than reacting. Trust me, when a kid becomes super dramatic, they hate people like me.
KID: "I WANT THAT TOY!!!!"
Me: "Well, someone else is playing with it"
KID: "BUT I WANT IT!!!"
Me: "I hear you but its not an option"
KID: "I WANT IT!!"
Me: "I hear you but its not an option"
(that refrain might be repeated a dozen times or so)
Then-
KID: "I WANT MY MOMMY"
Me: "I do too, she'll be here later, I promise"
Kid: ".....oh....k...."
That's how it usually happens anyway. I just don't want to yell and my distracting tactics are muddled in my brain so I can't think on my feet like I used to (thanks Alcohol, you're a great help, next time kill the brain cells that remember "diarrhea incident"). On days like this I totally remember why I don't have kids. Though in all fairness, I can spank my kids if I need to (although that is not my main punishment).
Anyway, it like threatening them is the only way to get my way, "no more housekeeping for you if you continue", "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to hold on to your sticker until you decide to behave again", "I think you'll have to sit by me or go inside the 2 year old room and sit with the babies" - all effective but I don't feel comfortable doing it.
I mean, I like to give choices:
a) come sit down with me
b) go sit down inside away from your friends
Stubborn dirty hands
A) Wash your hands and eat snack
B) I'll wait to until you have clean hands to give you snack
Kids fighting over toys
a) Do you want to go to time out?
b) Do you want me to put the toy in time out?
I feel like if they have more control over their destiny they are more likely to comply (which I know to be true for lots of children), HOWEVER, I find myself wanting to say stupid things like, "Oh, I'm sorry you cannot play with my toys", or "No dinosaurs FOR YOU!", or "I control the stickers, you control your behavior" (They are three and while the first two they'll understand, I feel like they will mimic these mean things to other children and then the whole, "You're not my friend," "you can't come to my birthday party" begins.
Of course, I always fall back to, "oh, if we are not friends, we cannot play" then all of a sudden, Jesus is resurrected and all is fine again. Truly, the mind of a three year old is awesome, I just wish I could squash it sometimes...
So today, I went back to the mantra that I have learned that keeps me peaceful and reminds me of how precious these children really are:
"Never EVER shake a baby"
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Beginning in the childcare business
So I was sitting there surrounded.... by little kids in cots. Naptime, one of the blessed things about being three... Anyway, I usually sit next to the children that move around and wiggle and calm them down. An adult sitting next to them will usually do it. Well, this one little boy was wiggling so much I sat down by him, covered him with a blanket and started rubbing his back. He became a small turtle and covered his head, but he stopped moving.
A few minutes go by and I hear this little "ow". I look at him and he opens the blanket with something on his thumb. It looked like it was skin pulled from an old sunburn. She shows it to me, and I take it off his thumb and examine this skin/scab looking thing... I'm examining it, wondering how I didn't notice the scab before... I'm like, "are you ok?"
He looks at me with these huge brown eyes that were slightly watered and goes:
"it came out of my nose"
Thanks kid real nice.
Another funny little thing happened this week... See, sometimes when you work with three year olds, you get the drama queens. Boys and girls... Yes men, once you got hurt you became a flaming crying sack of baby criers.... Which is ok. My response is usually, "Do we need to stop playing and go to the hospital?" Amazingly enough, only one kid was like, "yes", so I said, "ok, we need to go inside and call your mom"
"umm... I'm ok now"
I'm a big believer that moms should be more scary than hospitals.
Anyway, so there was this little girl who pulled a nail off and it took a little bit of skin off the top. I get it, it hurts and it sucks. She began saying that it hurt and started crying. So I washed it and asked if she was ok... of coure she isn't, it's red so OF COURSE she's dying by loss of blood. She keeps screaming that it hurts... After about 2 minutes (trust me, that's a long time when a child is screaming), I was like, ok, I think you are fine.
She assured me she still wasn't.
WELL, we were getting ready for lunchtime (then nap time) so I sat her down and continued getting everyone else ready. We were saying blessing while this girl was yelling and then she noticed we were praying.
Did she stop?
No, she's three.
She joined in... screaming the blessing. "...THANK HIM FOR OUR BREAD... AAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNN"
You know, as much as I couldn't believe that she was screaming the prayer, I was impressed with the need to conform. Good for her, however, after she ate, she realized she could continue and started yelling again. Then finally, one of the other workers looked at her and said, would a band-aid make the pain go away? OF COURSE
Why did I not think of it? I have no idea, call it lack of sleep or my experience with people with psychosomatic symptoms... Band-aids solve all problems.
Three year olds are so wily.... but still it gets me thinking...
I wonder if a Band-aid would work on Lindsey Lohan?
A few minutes go by and I hear this little "ow". I look at him and he opens the blanket with something on his thumb. It looked like it was skin pulled from an old sunburn. She shows it to me, and I take it off his thumb and examine this skin/scab looking thing... I'm examining it, wondering how I didn't notice the scab before... I'm like, "are you ok?"
He looks at me with these huge brown eyes that were slightly watered and goes:
"it came out of my nose"
Thanks kid real nice.
Another funny little thing happened this week... See, sometimes when you work with three year olds, you get the drama queens. Boys and girls... Yes men, once you got hurt you became a flaming crying sack of baby criers.... Which is ok. My response is usually, "Do we need to stop playing and go to the hospital?" Amazingly enough, only one kid was like, "yes", so I said, "ok, we need to go inside and call your mom"
"umm... I'm ok now"
I'm a big believer that moms should be more scary than hospitals.
Anyway, so there was this little girl who pulled a nail off and it took a little bit of skin off the top. I get it, it hurts and it sucks. She began saying that it hurt and started crying. So I washed it and asked if she was ok... of coure she isn't, it's red so OF COURSE she's dying by loss of blood. She keeps screaming that it hurts... After about 2 minutes (trust me, that's a long time when a child is screaming), I was like, ok, I think you are fine.
She assured me she still wasn't.
WELL, we were getting ready for lunchtime (then nap time) so I sat her down and continued getting everyone else ready. We were saying blessing while this girl was yelling and then she noticed we were praying.
Did she stop?
No, she's three.
She joined in... screaming the blessing. "...THANK HIM FOR OUR BREAD... AAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNN"
You know, as much as I couldn't believe that she was screaming the prayer, I was impressed with the need to conform. Good for her, however, after she ate, she realized she could continue and started yelling again. Then finally, one of the other workers looked at her and said, would a band-aid make the pain go away? OF COURSE
Why did I not think of it? I have no idea, call it lack of sleep or my experience with people with psychosomatic symptoms... Band-aids solve all problems.
Three year olds are so wily.... but still it gets me thinking...
I wonder if a Band-aid would work on Lindsey Lohan?
Friday, December 10, 2010
Throw back 10
Journal 10 - not much people
Jul 16, 2007
Aight - nothing going on.
But to let my readers know what is going on with me, I'll think of something.
I will be heading to Paris in late July. The Tour de France should be finishing up. My roomies are excited about that... but truthfully, a bunch of guys riding bikes working on testicular cancer doesn't exactly seem my kind of fun but y'know I'm open to the experience. (not testicular cancer, the watching the guys riding bikes part, just in case clarification was needed.)
OH! In case you didn't know about the "house rules" one more was created this weekend. They are as follows:
1. You don't bake a grilled cheese.
2. We don't rape old women.
3. Fuck urine.
Ok, now. These rules are golden and they should be followed by everyone. I shall explain how they came a-boat (canadians people - laugh). We were drinking one night (surprise surprise), and my roommate Nikesha wanted to play the card games so instead of grilling the grilled cheese she started to bake it. Well, Michael - my other roommated - flipped. He said it was unamerican to do such a thing and he proceeded to make another sandwich, stopping the entire game because of such a blasphemy. It was awesome. Anyway, rule 1 created and written down.
Rule two. Now to be honest, I cannot remember how this rule came about specifically, but I do remember that I was reading a story about an assault on this grandmother... and describing how sick a person has to be to do something like that and said, "he's rapping old women, " (really, like raping young women is ok..?) well, that's not what I meant but my roommates made it a rule just the same.
Rule three - happened this weekend and a marine party. Ok, so we were again, imbibing in some spirits... and there were peanuts on the bar. Me with my account of useful knowlege in these situations stated, "did you know more people eat those peanuts than wash their hands? There is urine all over those." My roommates again, were surprised and Michael and Patrick stated, "Rule 3 - we don't do urine" Then me being me stated, "Yeah, fuck urine" and rule 3 was voted on and born.
I just remembered, kind of shamefully because they were great seats - but I saw Lion King. CRITIC CORNER: It was pretty - odd, eccentric, but sadly the story line seemed lacking. I would still recommend it for the experience because it was cool as hell - but once is enough. Wicked is still WICKED AWESOME!
Finally, the best thing happened to me twice. I saw TWO norfolk terriers!! YES TWO - one was the first time I went to the Marine house. I about took the guy down but he looked like a freakin' body gard for the puppy... I don't blame him though. Those things are $2000 a dog. If that puppy knew how much I would love it, it would've broken free - i just know it. The second was an actual puppy (with a long tail which is not like the breed) but it was still adorable as hell. I stopped the guy so I could pet it and show it my love... Just as good as WILL RIKER! My life is complete, well almost - I need one - NO, they need me. Oh! the humanity!
I'm almost done in Londontown. See ya'll soon.... well in Aug.
Jul 16, 2007
Aight - nothing going on.
But to let my readers know what is going on with me, I'll think of something.
I will be heading to Paris in late July. The Tour de France should be finishing up. My roomies are excited about that... but truthfully, a bunch of guys riding bikes working on testicular cancer doesn't exactly seem my kind of fun but y'know I'm open to the experience. (not testicular cancer, the watching the guys riding bikes part, just in case clarification was needed.)
OH! In case you didn't know about the "house rules" one more was created this weekend. They are as follows:
1. You don't bake a grilled cheese.
2. We don't rape old women.
3. Fuck urine.
Ok, now. These rules are golden and they should be followed by everyone. I shall explain how they came a-boat (canadians people - laugh). We were drinking one night (surprise surprise), and my roommate Nikesha wanted to play the card games so instead of grilling the grilled cheese she started to bake it. Well, Michael - my other roommated - flipped. He said it was unamerican to do such a thing and he proceeded to make another sandwich, stopping the entire game because of such a blasphemy. It was awesome. Anyway, rule 1 created and written down.
Rule two. Now to be honest, I cannot remember how this rule came about specifically, but I do remember that I was reading a story about an assault on this grandmother... and describing how sick a person has to be to do something like that and said, "he's rapping old women, " (really, like raping young women is ok..?) well, that's not what I meant but my roommates made it a rule just the same.
Rule three - happened this weekend and a marine party. Ok, so we were again, imbibing in some spirits... and there were peanuts on the bar. Me with my account of useful knowlege in these situations stated, "did you know more people eat those peanuts than wash their hands? There is urine all over those." My roommates again, were surprised and Michael and Patrick stated, "Rule 3 - we don't do urine" Then me being me stated, "Yeah, fuck urine" and rule 3 was voted on and born.
I just remembered, kind of shamefully because they were great seats - but I saw Lion King. CRITIC CORNER: It was pretty - odd, eccentric, but sadly the story line seemed lacking. I would still recommend it for the experience because it was cool as hell - but once is enough. Wicked is still WICKED AWESOME!
Finally, the best thing happened to me twice. I saw TWO norfolk terriers!! YES TWO - one was the first time I went to the Marine house. I about took the guy down but he looked like a freakin' body gard for the puppy... I don't blame him though. Those things are $2000 a dog. If that puppy knew how much I would love it, it would've broken free - i just know it. The second was an actual puppy (with a long tail which is not like the breed) but it was still adorable as hell. I stopped the guy so I could pet it and show it my love... Just as good as WILL RIKER! My life is complete, well almost - I need one - NO, they need me. Oh! the humanity!
I'm almost done in Londontown. See ya'll soon.... well in Aug.
Throw back 9
Jul 9, 2007
Journal 9, the birthday
Current mood: sick
K ya'll. I know you expected me to go freaking crazy on my 25th... well, I got SICK! I mean throat hurting sick not puking like I should be sick. Let me start from the beginning...
I worked on my birthday. Not so bad... actually, I had a good day. My co-workers got me a card and these obnoxious yellow flowers that were larger than if I made my arms into a circle. I have never gotten such perfect flowers that suited my personality before. They even got me a chocolate cake - again awesome. Then I went to the Texas Embassy, a tex mex place- because of the margaritas, not the food. Food sucks. So anyway, on my way there, I had these obnoxious flowers, I was sweating hard core in the tube and taking so much space with these flowers. Well, I got off the tube station and have no idea where I am supposed to be heading. I call my roomie Michael from this massively populated area. I mean, people were just chillin in this square... for no reason (Piccadilly Circus, if any of you know where that is) and he doesn't know where I am, then it hits me, "I'm surrounded by Londonites, why don't I ask a complete stranger..." Well, I did. They were tourists. damn. Then this guys asks me how much I want for my flowers, and I told them they weren't for sale because they were my birthday flowers. Then all these people started wishing me happy birthday - this guy (tattoos, piercings, tank top and YES people a MULLET) offered me something sketch out of a big 'ol juice bottle. As tempted as I was, I had to refuse and instead asked for directions. Thankfully, they were right and I arrived right in front of the Texas embassy.... BUT WAIT! What was this, the damn tour de france is in London? They are peddling right in front of the texas embassy? ....They are blocking my way of getting MY birthday margaritas!!!!!! Fuck the bicyclers... Btw, doesn't even start till the 7th... WHY ARE THERE BARRACADES PREVENTING ME FROM GETTING TO THE ALCOHOL!?!?! Well, I start asking the police man how I was going to get across, he kept blowing me off, and then I started to get impatient... so i kept asking and asking, then finally he opens the barracades, and apparently they had a make shift walkway, they just needed people to get out of the way...
Sheepishly I make my way across the street to Michael and my margaritas... all these people were supposed to meet me there, did they? no! Only the true blue roomies... which is ok though. I was happily tipsy and i got hit on by a canadian waiter, from Ontario. I think we got him in trouble... which leads me to the second part of my night.
I went out with a bunch of marines... I preface this with the story of how we met.
I called Post one. Out of nowhere, I just felt the need. Well, and I told my roommates I'd see what they were up to for the 4th of July. Here's the conversation:
"Post one" - "hi, this is going to be a weird request so hear me out."
"ok" - "ok, my name is athena, I'm go to FSU and I'm currently going to school here." - "ok" - "ok, and my parents work at the embassy in bucharest, and i know you guys usually do something for the 4th of july..." - "yes" - "ok, I know you have to do that ambassador thing, but usually the marines go out afterwards and party" -"yes" - "well, I was wondering if my roommates and I could party with you..." "ummm... hold on"
Dead silence *athena thoughts* These guys think I am completely crazy...
"hello" -uh, different guy -"hi" - "what was your question again?" I repeat myself. "ok, there is a guy that always goes out, let me give you his number" (Background - get her number, don't just give my number out!) - "how about i give you my number..." "heard that did you?" "yeah..."
Anyway, we got together and got drunk, the turtle appeared... good times.
Ok, so we end up going out with the marines on my birthday. Long story short, we were there past curfew, who ever was in charge told me to stand down when i introduced myself... who fucking does that? anyway, so they probably got in trouble but i haven't talk to them, because I got sick on Sat. morning...
Which brings me to the guy smoking crack in the telephone booth... never seen anyone do that before... i wanted to scare him by attacking the phone booth, but Maegan (my sick partner) wisely told me not to mess with the guy with crack...
ok, so far that's it. I'll let you know how this cold goes.
love you.
Journal 9, the birthday
Current mood: sick
K ya'll. I know you expected me to go freaking crazy on my 25th... well, I got SICK! I mean throat hurting sick not puking like I should be sick. Let me start from the beginning...
I worked on my birthday. Not so bad... actually, I had a good day. My co-workers got me a card and these obnoxious yellow flowers that were larger than if I made my arms into a circle. I have never gotten such perfect flowers that suited my personality before. They even got me a chocolate cake - again awesome. Then I went to the Texas Embassy, a tex mex place- because of the margaritas, not the food. Food sucks. So anyway, on my way there, I had these obnoxious flowers, I was sweating hard core in the tube and taking so much space with these flowers. Well, I got off the tube station and have no idea where I am supposed to be heading. I call my roomie Michael from this massively populated area. I mean, people were just chillin in this square... for no reason (Piccadilly Circus, if any of you know where that is) and he doesn't know where I am, then it hits me, "I'm surrounded by Londonites, why don't I ask a complete stranger..." Well, I did. They were tourists. damn. Then this guys asks me how much I want for my flowers, and I told them they weren't for sale because they were my birthday flowers. Then all these people started wishing me happy birthday - this guy (tattoos, piercings, tank top and YES people a MULLET) offered me something sketch out of a big 'ol juice bottle. As tempted as I was, I had to refuse and instead asked for directions. Thankfully, they were right and I arrived right in front of the Texas embassy.... BUT WAIT! What was this, the damn tour de france is in London? They are peddling right in front of the texas embassy? ....They are blocking my way of getting MY birthday margaritas!!!!!! Fuck the bicyclers... Btw, doesn't even start till the 7th... WHY ARE THERE BARRACADES PREVENTING ME FROM GETTING TO THE ALCOHOL!?!?! Well, I start asking the police man how I was going to get across, he kept blowing me off, and then I started to get impatient... so i kept asking and asking, then finally he opens the barracades, and apparently they had a make shift walkway, they just needed people to get out of the way...
Sheepishly I make my way across the street to Michael and my margaritas... all these people were supposed to meet me there, did they? no! Only the true blue roomies... which is ok though. I was happily tipsy and i got hit on by a canadian waiter, from Ontario. I think we got him in trouble... which leads me to the second part of my night.
I went out with a bunch of marines... I preface this with the story of how we met.
I called Post one. Out of nowhere, I just felt the need. Well, and I told my roommates I'd see what they were up to for the 4th of July. Here's the conversation:
"Post one" - "hi, this is going to be a weird request so hear me out."
"ok" - "ok, my name is athena, I'm go to FSU and I'm currently going to school here." - "ok" - "ok, and my parents work at the embassy in bucharest, and i know you guys usually do something for the 4th of july..." - "yes" - "ok, I know you have to do that ambassador thing, but usually the marines go out afterwards and party" -"yes" - "well, I was wondering if my roommates and I could party with you..." "ummm... hold on"
Dead silence *athena thoughts* These guys think I am completely crazy...
"hello" -uh, different guy -"hi" - "what was your question again?" I repeat myself. "ok, there is a guy that always goes out, let me give you his number" (Background - get her number, don't just give my number out!) - "how about i give you my number..." "heard that did you?" "yeah..."
Anyway, we got together and got drunk, the turtle appeared... good times.
Ok, so we end up going out with the marines on my birthday. Long story short, we were there past curfew, who ever was in charge told me to stand down when i introduced myself... who fucking does that? anyway, so they probably got in trouble but i haven't talk to them, because I got sick on Sat. morning...
Which brings me to the guy smoking crack in the telephone booth... never seen anyone do that before... i wanted to scare him by attacking the phone booth, but Maegan (my sick partner) wisely told me not to mess with the guy with crack...
ok, so far that's it. I'll let you know how this cold goes.
love you.
Throw back 8
Jul 2, 2007
Journal 8 - aren't you lucky?
Current mood: hungry
Ok guys, so this weekend involved a few things. Honestly though, the only cool thing worth mentioning was the gay pride party going on down the street from where I live.
People were crazy. Gays were everywhere. It was kinda awesome. I do have a question, which I pondered and asked about, and still wonder the relevance. Why do the S&M people come out? It isn't synonmyous with being gay... I mean it is with being weird but not so much gay. Also, the Transvesitites were out in abundance, really ladies - it's terrible how they know how to do makeup better than I do. AND WAIT!! I saw a bunch of lesbians, but I don't quite understand the need to look male just because you like females... I was looking for some hot lesbians because, let's face it, everyone wants to see a hot chick kiss another hot chick, and well... disappointment is where I landed. I did see some chicks going at in on the street but I threw up in my mouth a little. And I don't think I've ever been asked so many times if I was a lesbian. When I told people I was straight, they seemed kinda relieved - the gay guys I was with told me lesbians usually stick to themselves, which I found to be true. They had their own section of SoHo and rarely exited that area. Weird. Oh and apparently most lesbians are bitchy... can't say I had any experience with that.
I hung out with my friend Robert who has some amazing friends (not to mention loaded) and apparently hung out with the stylist that does Marylin Manson's ex wife's make up and hair (her name is like Diter or something) and a pop star from the '80s. Yeah, don't really know him, but his song entered at No. 5 in Britain when it came out. By the way, HUGE guy - like muscle huge. Oh and I got to ride in his Jag.
So I had an experience to say the least. Not so much funny as it is thought provoking. I was exhausted though by the end of it all, i found the gays draining. They have more energy than a two year old on crack.
Love you.
Journal 8 - aren't you lucky?
Current mood: hungry
Ok guys, so this weekend involved a few things. Honestly though, the only cool thing worth mentioning was the gay pride party going on down the street from where I live.
People were crazy. Gays were everywhere. It was kinda awesome. I do have a question, which I pondered and asked about, and still wonder the relevance. Why do the S&M people come out? It isn't synonmyous with being gay... I mean it is with being weird but not so much gay. Also, the Transvesitites were out in abundance, really ladies - it's terrible how they know how to do makeup better than I do. AND WAIT!! I saw a bunch of lesbians, but I don't quite understand the need to look male just because you like females... I was looking for some hot lesbians because, let's face it, everyone wants to see a hot chick kiss another hot chick, and well... disappointment is where I landed. I did see some chicks going at in on the street but I threw up in my mouth a little. And I don't think I've ever been asked so many times if I was a lesbian. When I told people I was straight, they seemed kinda relieved - the gay guys I was with told me lesbians usually stick to themselves, which I found to be true. They had their own section of SoHo and rarely exited that area. Weird. Oh and apparently most lesbians are bitchy... can't say I had any experience with that.
I hung out with my friend Robert who has some amazing friends (not to mention loaded) and apparently hung out with the stylist that does Marylin Manson's ex wife's make up and hair (her name is like Diter or something) and a pop star from the '80s. Yeah, don't really know him, but his song entered at No. 5 in Britain when it came out. By the way, HUGE guy - like muscle huge. Oh and I got to ride in his Jag.
So I had an experience to say the least. Not so much funny as it is thought provoking. I was exhausted though by the end of it all, i found the gays draining. They have more energy than a two year old on crack.
Love you.
Throw back 6.5 and 7
• Jun 13, 2007
This is not really a journal entry...
Current mood: contemplative
Dear all,
I write this letter with disgust. Something happened yesterday that I just could not believe so I must tell all of you.
I cried at work.
I can hear the gasps from here. I was a baby and cried, balled - really. What was so horrible that I needed to cry like a angry hungry baby... was there an emergency? did I deal with a difficult client? did someone die? umm... no. I cried because I was "overwhelmed" with paperwork. Me. cried. over paperwork. Not only did co workers see, my boss came to FIND me... humiliation and disgust came over me so quickly I'm suprised I didn't grow wings and fly away. I can't believe it - and now, neither can you. This will be a moment in my life, I will be ashamed to remember. The reason I'm telling you... because if I can't laugh about it later, I'm not over it.
Well, let's just say I went to trampoline class and jumped my frustration away. Go me! I threw some dirt on it and continued on my way.
That was my bad day. :) glad that shit's over.
• Jun 27, 2007
Journal 7?
Current mood: contemplative
Ok, people. I know it's been awhile... here's why.
My roommate was sick. I didn't sleep for three days. You guys all know how grouchy I get when I don't sleep... oh it was bad. I handled it well though, all my roommates have all their limbs and heads. Good for me. Then I slept all weekend. Then I partied all week, then slept all weekend...
One of those Sundays I went to Camden to shop. I went a bit crazy. I bought this weird shirt with holes in it, boots (of course, i miss mine bad enough), and something else. I in my haste to run as fast as possible away from Tally-ho, I didn't bring my freakin going out clothes... WHAT WAS I THINKING? I'm a Tatum dammit. Oh the shame. Well apparently that is also the Goth part of time... It was interesting... OH and I bought a corsette... like a real one, that LACES... Problem is - no pants. I can't be perfect.
Last weekend, also went to a popular pub... trust me guys, a pub is a pub... what the hell is the difference. I did meet some interesting fellows by the bathroom. At first, I thought they were tripping, because they asked me if I've seen an owl in the bathroom... but then we got to talking and they were just shitfaced. Lots of fun, but I left them at the bar. In fact guys, because I was talking to them BY the bathroom, my friends thought I was missing and went looking for me IN the bathroom but somehow missed me standing outside of it. They sent out a search party and got the Bartender involved. It was a full scale rescue mission - then I popped up and ruined everything. They were like forming plans and shit, and here I am "hey guys, who're we looking for?"
The other times were mainly playing cards at the house and enjoying Sainsbury whiskey (which would be like Winn-Dixie whiskey if you can imagine it). Gotta love my standards.
I also changed my flight, I am going to Romania for the month of August. I will be in Orlando the 21st... then Tally and then I don't know where. I have no idea what's going to happen. Yes, Athena has NO plan. In my desperate attempt for sanity, I called Ariel... You know it's bad when I need Ariel to bring me back to the sane world (hahahahahah!! iloveyou). Well, I must give credit where it is due - she talked me down from the blubbering idiot I was to the semi-blubbering idiot I became. She also brought me to some conclusions that didn't occur to me with my fairly amazing brain capacity. Which was, "why am I worried about what happens AFTER London?" She said "Enjoy the moment" or something else Buddah-like and all of a sudden I was Bill and Ted when they finally get that they don't have to be losers - this epiphany came over me and this sudden peace settled over me. (Yes, like the movies when the music changes.)Then in her infinite wisdom, she continued, "Athena, life is not limitless, think about what you want to accomplish before you die... like 3 major things that YOU - YOU ALONE - want to do." I was dumbfounded. Can you believe I have never really thought about it like that... Well, I posed this question to many people and hear are some of the answers:
1. Swim with Sharks/ snorkle at the great barrier reef (I think there was some indecision)
2. African Safari (actually this one was mentioned more than once)
3. To have sex with everyone I've ever wanted to have sex with.... (this one is a more obvious answer so I had to narrow it down to - before you die, not knowing you are going to die soon, like if you had cancer and they were going to operate in 6 months and your chances of living are 50-50, you don't want to then die of the Hiv - that would be depressing)
4. Box a kangaroo - yes, this was an actual answer, and I laughed my ass off.
5. Get something published
6. Live in the Amazon
7. To live long enough to see my children become successful (this I will say was a good one, but it was decided that saying stereotypical depressing things like, i want a career and a family was bogus because you have to eat, and eventually most people will create spawn. This actual answer was different because your kids might not be so successful, they might end up in jail, in which case, you don't want to live that long, get it? good.)
8. Create a legacy - also a good one
9. To change someone's name (as in last name, as in getting married) - like that is EVER going to happen to me...
I'd like to know everyone's three things. I think it'll be interesting - not to mention - i don't know what mine are... I do have one - Learn to surf.
Any ideas guys? I'll probably post something and ask the millions out there. In the mean time, I'm brainstorming... too bad it's like running the mile with no legs. We'll see. Love you guys.
This is not really a journal entry...
Current mood: contemplative
Dear all,
I write this letter with disgust. Something happened yesterday that I just could not believe so I must tell all of you.
I cried at work.
I can hear the gasps from here. I was a baby and cried, balled - really. What was so horrible that I needed to cry like a angry hungry baby... was there an emergency? did I deal with a difficult client? did someone die? umm... no. I cried because I was "overwhelmed" with paperwork. Me. cried. over paperwork. Not only did co workers see, my boss came to FIND me... humiliation and disgust came over me so quickly I'm suprised I didn't grow wings and fly away. I can't believe it - and now, neither can you. This will be a moment in my life, I will be ashamed to remember. The reason I'm telling you... because if I can't laugh about it later, I'm not over it.
Well, let's just say I went to trampoline class and jumped my frustration away. Go me! I threw some dirt on it and continued on my way.
That was my bad day. :) glad that shit's over.
• Jun 27, 2007
Journal 7?
Current mood: contemplative
Ok, people. I know it's been awhile... here's why.
My roommate was sick. I didn't sleep for three days. You guys all know how grouchy I get when I don't sleep... oh it was bad. I handled it well though, all my roommates have all their limbs and heads. Good for me. Then I slept all weekend. Then I partied all week, then slept all weekend...
One of those Sundays I went to Camden to shop. I went a bit crazy. I bought this weird shirt with holes in it, boots (of course, i miss mine bad enough), and something else. I in my haste to run as fast as possible away from Tally-ho, I didn't bring my freakin going out clothes... WHAT WAS I THINKING? I'm a Tatum dammit. Oh the shame. Well apparently that is also the Goth part of time... It was interesting... OH and I bought a corsette... like a real one, that LACES... Problem is - no pants. I can't be perfect.
Last weekend, also went to a popular pub... trust me guys, a pub is a pub... what the hell is the difference. I did meet some interesting fellows by the bathroom. At first, I thought they were tripping, because they asked me if I've seen an owl in the bathroom... but then we got to talking and they were just shitfaced. Lots of fun, but I left them at the bar. In fact guys, because I was talking to them BY the bathroom, my friends thought I was missing and went looking for me IN the bathroom but somehow missed me standing outside of it. They sent out a search party and got the Bartender involved. It was a full scale rescue mission - then I popped up and ruined everything. They were like forming plans and shit, and here I am "hey guys, who're we looking for?"
The other times were mainly playing cards at the house and enjoying Sainsbury whiskey (which would be like Winn-Dixie whiskey if you can imagine it). Gotta love my standards.
I also changed my flight, I am going to Romania for the month of August. I will be in Orlando the 21st... then Tally and then I don't know where. I have no idea what's going to happen. Yes, Athena has NO plan. In my desperate attempt for sanity, I called Ariel... You know it's bad when I need Ariel to bring me back to the sane world (hahahahahah!! iloveyou). Well, I must give credit where it is due - she talked me down from the blubbering idiot I was to the semi-blubbering idiot I became. She also brought me to some conclusions that didn't occur to me with my fairly amazing brain capacity. Which was, "why am I worried about what happens AFTER London?" She said "Enjoy the moment" or something else Buddah-like and all of a sudden I was Bill and Ted when they finally get that they don't have to be losers - this epiphany came over me and this sudden peace settled over me. (Yes, like the movies when the music changes.)Then in her infinite wisdom, she continued, "Athena, life is not limitless, think about what you want to accomplish before you die... like 3 major things that YOU - YOU ALONE - want to do." I was dumbfounded. Can you believe I have never really thought about it like that... Well, I posed this question to many people and hear are some of the answers:
1. Swim with Sharks/ snorkle at the great barrier reef (I think there was some indecision)
2. African Safari (actually this one was mentioned more than once)
3. To have sex with everyone I've ever wanted to have sex with.... (this one is a more obvious answer so I had to narrow it down to - before you die, not knowing you are going to die soon, like if you had cancer and they were going to operate in 6 months and your chances of living are 50-50, you don't want to then die of the Hiv - that would be depressing)
4. Box a kangaroo - yes, this was an actual answer, and I laughed my ass off.
5. Get something published
6. Live in the Amazon
7. To live long enough to see my children become successful (this I will say was a good one, but it was decided that saying stereotypical depressing things like, i want a career and a family was bogus because you have to eat, and eventually most people will create spawn. This actual answer was different because your kids might not be so successful, they might end up in jail, in which case, you don't want to live that long, get it? good.)
8. Create a legacy - also a good one
9. To change someone's name (as in last name, as in getting married) - like that is EVER going to happen to me...
I'd like to know everyone's three things. I think it'll be interesting - not to mention - i don't know what mine are... I do have one - Learn to surf.
Any ideas guys? I'll probably post something and ask the millions out there. In the mean time, I'm brainstorming... too bad it's like running the mile with no legs. We'll see. Love you guys.
Throw back 6
• Jun 10, 2007
Journal 6
Current mood: satisfied
Ok people - so drunk girl came out in abundance this week. I know many of you think, why is drinking the big thing? Well, because I don't really do it. My normal day is boring and I would hate to bore my audience with my lack of antics. I will say, during this whole time, my calves hurt because I worked them out on Tuesday then Trampolined for 2 hours. Oh - good story. Then after the class we went out with the instructor and people from my class and had a few bottles of wine. Didn't go home till they kicked us out, which luckily was around 1. *Bad idea, work SUCKED the next day.
The next day it was a normal wed. The day was cool and long and I was sleeping on the couch. BAM! I wake up four hours later. There are people in my house that I have never met before and they are all going out. In my sleepy haze, they somehow convinced me this was a GLORIOUS idea... so of course, I go. Well, the problem wasn't the place, or the dance floor, or the people... the problem was it was the cheapest drinking I've had since I've been here. Jack Daniels was flowing into my mouth like Sally Struthers eating donuts. Not only that, oh no, when I get home - sleep somehow didn't seem like a good idea. Instead staying up with my roommates til 5 in the morning somehow did. Oh wait, then I just HAD to call Pat and talk to him till 6 A.M. and I had to work that day. Well, luckily I was working late that day so I came in at 12 instead. I still hated myself. I hopefully have learned THAT lesson but for some reason, you would've thought the day before lesson would have appeared in my brain... my shoulder angels - "we're both leading you down the path that rocks!" I don't have a good one apparently.
Anyway, Friday comes along. We went out. Usually we choose Saturday but I guess it was meant to be. We went to this place called the Royal Crown. The cheerleader in me was begging to get out. People, I did backhandsprings on the streets of London, drunk as crap. Not only did I do that, I convinced, a bunch of British people that Tallahassee is the place to be.... yeah, Tallahassee. what was I thinking? For some reason, I told them "hey American ladies will throw themselves at your feet because of your accents and you can drink all the top shelf you want for $10 on Fridays." Which means they would HAVE to go as soon as they get home. I seriously had them pondering how much it would be to get there... So if you guys meet some nice blokes in Tallyho and they are confused because the night life is only big 4 nights a week and girls really won't be throwing themselves at them - tell them I send my regards.
Going on, well, at one point I ran out of money. I only brought £10 which is $20 and it's expensive so no more drinks for me. Little did I know I had an untapped resource (hahahaha, funny guys get your mind out of the gutter). No, not that. My roommates were talking about me flipping all over the place so guys started offering to buy me drinks if I did some flips. So I did. And Jack and me reunited. I only got one drink, but it was one too many. See, because I got home - again I had to call my pat. Patrick, unaware of my shenannigans, asked me to call him back in 5 minutes. Oh, I said yes, but my body, my body was telling me no. My roommate Patrick (different guy) asked me how to wash his dress shirts. I told him where to find the tag if it wasn't on the back of the neck. He went in his room grabbed his shirt, looked at the tag and came in to tell me he found it and *WHOOSH* I was out lpased out on the couch. Yes, I passed out in less than a minute. Rare, but amazing. I woke up at 10:30 the next morning and was like, "CRAP! I have to call PAT!" At five his time, I wasn't so surprised he didn't pick up.
The rest of my day was spent chillin. We even watched Waterboy and this weird movie Magnolia... Tom Cruise was crazy in it... his best role ever... I wonder why... Sunday came, I went to the gym, did laundry, had free pizza. I say it was a good day. OH and those that have been reading this journal like its your bible - I found some wax and relieved myself of this hair problem. Finally, I feel like I've been cleansed of some unholy demon that was taking over my body - the demon - Hair-magnanimous. Ok too far? not too funny? ah well. I couldn't find a cute way to insert "el Chupacabara" with the word hair.
That is my social life. If you want details about my work, I can give it but most of it is administration and depressing stories so... I'd rather keep it light. Hope this will give you an Athena fix for another week. I love you. Keep the comments coming. I like knowing I'm not just putting this into space for no reason.
Journal 6
Current mood: satisfied
Ok people - so drunk girl came out in abundance this week. I know many of you think, why is drinking the big thing? Well, because I don't really do it. My normal day is boring and I would hate to bore my audience with my lack of antics. I will say, during this whole time, my calves hurt because I worked them out on Tuesday then Trampolined for 2 hours. Oh - good story. Then after the class we went out with the instructor and people from my class and had a few bottles of wine. Didn't go home till they kicked us out, which luckily was around 1. *Bad idea, work SUCKED the next day.
The next day it was a normal wed. The day was cool and long and I was sleeping on the couch. BAM! I wake up four hours later. There are people in my house that I have never met before and they are all going out. In my sleepy haze, they somehow convinced me this was a GLORIOUS idea... so of course, I go. Well, the problem wasn't the place, or the dance floor, or the people... the problem was it was the cheapest drinking I've had since I've been here. Jack Daniels was flowing into my mouth like Sally Struthers eating donuts. Not only that, oh no, when I get home - sleep somehow didn't seem like a good idea. Instead staying up with my roommates til 5 in the morning somehow did. Oh wait, then I just HAD to call Pat and talk to him till 6 A.M. and I had to work that day. Well, luckily I was working late that day so I came in at 12 instead. I still hated myself. I hopefully have learned THAT lesson but for some reason, you would've thought the day before lesson would have appeared in my brain... my shoulder angels - "we're both leading you down the path that rocks!" I don't have a good one apparently.
Anyway, Friday comes along. We went out. Usually we choose Saturday but I guess it was meant to be. We went to this place called the Royal Crown. The cheerleader in me was begging to get out. People, I did backhandsprings on the streets of London, drunk as crap. Not only did I do that, I convinced, a bunch of British people that Tallahassee is the place to be.... yeah, Tallahassee. what was I thinking? For some reason, I told them "hey American ladies will throw themselves at your feet because of your accents and you can drink all the top shelf you want for $10 on Fridays." Which means they would HAVE to go as soon as they get home. I seriously had them pondering how much it would be to get there... So if you guys meet some nice blokes in Tallyho and they are confused because the night life is only big 4 nights a week and girls really won't be throwing themselves at them - tell them I send my regards.
Going on, well, at one point I ran out of money. I only brought £10 which is $20 and it's expensive so no more drinks for me. Little did I know I had an untapped resource (hahahaha, funny guys get your mind out of the gutter). No, not that. My roommates were talking about me flipping all over the place so guys started offering to buy me drinks if I did some flips. So I did. And Jack and me reunited. I only got one drink, but it was one too many. See, because I got home - again I had to call my pat. Patrick, unaware of my shenannigans, asked me to call him back in 5 minutes. Oh, I said yes, but my body, my body was telling me no. My roommate Patrick (different guy) asked me how to wash his dress shirts. I told him where to find the tag if it wasn't on the back of the neck. He went in his room grabbed his shirt, looked at the tag and came in to tell me he found it and *WHOOSH* I was out lpased out on the couch. Yes, I passed out in less than a minute. Rare, but amazing. I woke up at 10:30 the next morning and was like, "CRAP! I have to call PAT!" At five his time, I wasn't so surprised he didn't pick up.
The rest of my day was spent chillin. We even watched Waterboy and this weird movie Magnolia... Tom Cruise was crazy in it... his best role ever... I wonder why... Sunday came, I went to the gym, did laundry, had free pizza. I say it was a good day. OH and those that have been reading this journal like its your bible - I found some wax and relieved myself of this hair problem. Finally, I feel like I've been cleansed of some unholy demon that was taking over my body - the demon - Hair-magnanimous. Ok too far? not too funny? ah well. I couldn't find a cute way to insert "el Chupacabara" with the word hair.
That is my social life. If you want details about my work, I can give it but most of it is administration and depressing stories so... I'd rather keep it light. Hope this will give you an Athena fix for another week. I love you. Keep the comments coming. I like knowing I'm not just putting this into space for no reason.
Throw back 5
• Jun 3, 2007
Journal 5
Current mood: chipper
Ok people, sad to say - not much going on this time around.
Pathetic has reached an all time low this weekend with two things.
1) I stayed in and went to bed early on a Friday night. Yes, I am getting old.
2) My spelling has started to go. I like skip letters or something... I HATE bad spellers and now God is on to me.
I will say that I did go out Sat. night after a day of laundry. I met some UF people, and one UCF person. They were nice. There wasn't much of a rivalry... how can there be when you are a million miles away and football season is over. It was good stuff. We ended up going to this place O'neil's in Chinatown. Yes, I said "O'neil's in Chinatown." Crazy brits. It was three stories and kinda cool looking. I went home early though because my roommate had to work Sunday and I was kinda tired anyway. The strangest thing came over me though. I NEEDED subway. The way you need to take a shower after you've been working out. It was almost like my life depended on it. I got a footlong thinking I could save some for lunch. That didn't happen. I ATE the whole thing. I couldn't stop myself. I called Pat and told him to call me on my home phone and went to bed. Someone called later and freaked the hell out of my roommates because no one could figure it out.
*Side note: Last week, at 3 am, a random guy called a couple of times and wanted to talk to my roommate Nikesha. When my other roommate told him that she was sleeping, the caller INSISTED that he wake her up. So being the nice guy he is, he went and woke up her. She went downstairs and talked to the guy. He ended up just whispering "You have six days to live" and then hung up. In retrospect, it sounds dumb and stupid, but in a haze after waking everyone up, it freaked us out a bit. Who does that? Regardless it didn't come true because it's the sixth day and she's happily still alive.
Going on, we had a picnic at Regents Park today. I brought veggies - they were yummy. Check out facebook if you want to see the pictures. There was some tree-hugging-hippie-festival going on. Save the earth or something... Just kidding, it was like this "be organic" thing. Cool thing was, easy access to bathrooms, bad thing was, no toilet paper. I mean COME ON HIPPIES! I don't need to go that natural. Slightly annoying. Oh and a slightly funny thing happened to my roomie Kathryn, who is the most accident prone person ever. She's sweet, just shit happens to her. Anyway, so we were walking and this bulldog (cute) was carrying a stick bigger than him. I was surprised it fit in his mouth. So the bulldog was there and everyone saw him, except Kathryn so of course the dog ran the stick right into her leg. I felt bad but it was kinda funny. I guess it wasn't that funny, I'm re reading this and no laughter bubbled up. Damn. Oh well.
That was my short weekend. I didn't go anywhere during the week or have anything happen to me that is worth mentioning. OH!!! Two things - 1) found some wax... oh yes, the hair will grow and I will rip it out with relish. Now I have to play the hairy Theeny game again. It's ok, I always win - except that once where I had no control and my mom didn't know about my waxing excitement. 2) I found a 99p store. SWEET!! My cheap ass can go and find toilet paper and paper towels and not have to give my first born for them. I guess my goal for this week is to make a British friend. Let's see how that works out for me... also, I'm looking up jobs so if you guys hear of anything that I might find interesting - let a girl know. Love you guys.
Journal 5
Current mood: chipper
Ok people, sad to say - not much going on this time around.
Pathetic has reached an all time low this weekend with two things.
1) I stayed in and went to bed early on a Friday night. Yes, I am getting old.
2) My spelling has started to go. I like skip letters or something... I HATE bad spellers and now God is on to me.
I will say that I did go out Sat. night after a day of laundry. I met some UF people, and one UCF person. They were nice. There wasn't much of a rivalry... how can there be when you are a million miles away and football season is over. It was good stuff. We ended up going to this place O'neil's in Chinatown. Yes, I said "O'neil's in Chinatown." Crazy brits. It was three stories and kinda cool looking. I went home early though because my roommate had to work Sunday and I was kinda tired anyway. The strangest thing came over me though. I NEEDED subway. The way you need to take a shower after you've been working out. It was almost like my life depended on it. I got a footlong thinking I could save some for lunch. That didn't happen. I ATE the whole thing. I couldn't stop myself. I called Pat and told him to call me on my home phone and went to bed. Someone called later and freaked the hell out of my roommates because no one could figure it out.
*Side note: Last week, at 3 am, a random guy called a couple of times and wanted to talk to my roommate Nikesha. When my other roommate told him that she was sleeping, the caller INSISTED that he wake her up. So being the nice guy he is, he went and woke up her. She went downstairs and talked to the guy. He ended up just whispering "You have six days to live" and then hung up. In retrospect, it sounds dumb and stupid, but in a haze after waking everyone up, it freaked us out a bit. Who does that? Regardless it didn't come true because it's the sixth day and she's happily still alive.
Going on, we had a picnic at Regents Park today. I brought veggies - they were yummy. Check out facebook if you want to see the pictures. There was some tree-hugging-hippie-festival going on. Save the earth or something... Just kidding, it was like this "be organic" thing. Cool thing was, easy access to bathrooms, bad thing was, no toilet paper. I mean COME ON HIPPIES! I don't need to go that natural. Slightly annoying. Oh and a slightly funny thing happened to my roomie Kathryn, who is the most accident prone person ever. She's sweet, just shit happens to her. Anyway, so we were walking and this bulldog (cute) was carrying a stick bigger than him. I was surprised it fit in his mouth. So the bulldog was there and everyone saw him, except Kathryn so of course the dog ran the stick right into her leg. I felt bad but it was kinda funny. I guess it wasn't that funny, I'm re reading this and no laughter bubbled up. Damn. Oh well.
That was my short weekend. I didn't go anywhere during the week or have anything happen to me that is worth mentioning. OH!!! Two things - 1) found some wax... oh yes, the hair will grow and I will rip it out with relish. Now I have to play the hairy Theeny game again. It's ok, I always win - except that once where I had no control and my mom didn't know about my waxing excitement. 2) I found a 99p store. SWEET!! My cheap ass can go and find toilet paper and paper towels and not have to give my first born for them. I guess my goal for this week is to make a British friend. Let's see how that works out for me... also, I'm looking up jobs so if you guys hear of anything that I might find interesting - let a girl know. Love you guys.
Throw back 3 and 4
• May 20, 2007
Journal entry - san
Current mood: excited
Alright, here goes:
Things are AWESOME! I'm homesick, but that's nothing new. My job is pretty cool but I'm depressing my roommates with facts and figures such as: Every week two women die because of domestic violence in London - More women died at the hands of their husbands during the Vietnam war, that American soldiers during the same time. (American women, and that's not including those that died at the hands of their boyfriends.) So, my roommates think I'm dreary, like the weather here. I haven't been working out, but I have been cooking!! Yes, edible food. I know all of you are proud of me. I'm growing up and saving China. OH!! and I ordered a Jack and Coke (on my own, my choice) because any other drink in the damn country is weak as all hell. I know the Southern boys would be giving me high fives right now.
I work all week. The people are cool, I'm doing tons of admin work, but I like it. I even like filing because I know where everything is. The problem comes with answering the phones because I'm supposed to be empathetic and I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing on the line.... I am amazed at the system here, it really is extremely well done. People are massively nice, and I'd like to say that I'm a busy little bee and work. The only thing is, no one really cracks jokes so it's kinda killing my mojo a bit. Everyone is friendly but I need a joker and I think I'm in the wrong environment for that.... and everyone says "literally." I hate it because they use the word wrong. "It's lilterally five seconds away" No, it's not, 1-2-3-4-5. It's not here. grrr....
Enough about work, I went to Buckingham palace. Too many people there, we were there at the changing of the guards and I swear everyone thought the queen was going to come out and wave. It was so chaotic. So instead, we went to one of the royal parks. It was really pretty - until we saw a guy peeing on a tree! I was like, "dude, and they say Americans have no respect, that guy is probably from this country" We couldn't stop watching him, it was horrible but fascinating at the same time... My roommate Maegan wanted to take a picture but he finished up to fast... dammit. I also saw a homeless guy sleeping facedown in the grass... I wanted to be him. He was asleep on royal property, probably shitfaced, under a shaded tree at noon. Cool guy.
Ok ok, so I'm getting to the good part - I SAW WICKED!!!! (high pitch annoying squeal entering here) AAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!! It was more titilating than I thought it was going to be and I thought it was going to be phenominal. Hullo, it was WICKED AWESOME!!! It explained EVERYTHING - the cowardly lion, the tin man, the scarecrow... why everyone hated her, why she was considered evil, how her sister was evil... (I guessed that part, but it was still good). Be jealous people because i'm jealous of myself. I'm telling you, SO worth the money, I'd see it again and again and again. And again. :) I was on cloud 9 the whole night and never wanted to come down. I have picture of my roommies and I going but I haven't connected them to computer yet... but I have them. Y'know, not that it means much to you.
I'm heading off to the British Museum now so I have to get going. I wonder what experiences I'll have there. Anyway, Let me know if you want me to write about anything specific... otherwise, I'm keeping it this way. Coming soon: Athena's return back from Romania
Love you guys - me.
• May 30, 2007
Journal patru, I don't know how to spell it
Serves me right for trying to speak Romanian...
Ok, back from home. This is how it went:
I woke up at the but crack of dawn to get on a plane to visit the 'rents in RO. I get to see Germany for the first time - as I fly over it - btw, looks like all other countries from 2.5 miles up. Aw well, so, as I'm sitting there, I decide that the guy next to me is funny, so I start talking to him, or he talks to me, I wasn't sure. Anyway, he and his skater friend (I found out later) are playing Rummy. Yes, I finally learned to play a card game that doesn't involve drinking of any kind. The cards were first class, soft porn all the way. I think the guy next to me, Dominic, was slightly embarrassed at first but I was too focused on trying to win a game I really didn't notice them after the first few minutes. Oh ironic that my first British friend is one I met on the way to Germany. Go figure. He is a photographer for the skater guy... Anyway, after a bit of a chat, we parted ways - I gave him my number so we could "catch a pint." Eww... beer.
So I get there, Dad and Mom are both there and they both didn't notice me until I was in their face. Mom was half asleep and Dad was playing on his phone... Well, fun times just the same. I think we went to Arcade that night (with Yonie and Mike) and it was good. I got the couch, which wasn't a big deal because I sleep there anyway, even if I have a bed. All my roomies, here and in Tally know this. Something about a couch and keeping people from sitting on it.
Ok, so the next day was Friday!! I'm-getting-waxed-day!! I've been waiting for months!! Well not for months but long enough so that I am thoroughly disgusted in myself. I am so excited I'm jumping up and down to find out Mom didn't make a reservation (though I did ask her to a week before hand) and we couldn't get one at my normal place. You know me, I'm like, Let's DO this! Mom, the maid - Adrianna, Mike and I went on a mission to find a salon. Let's just say after 4 we gave up. No, it didn't happen. I even started looking for do-it-yourself wax because I do that at home... NONE. No wax, no freakin wax anywhere. So I'm hairy, disappointed and hungry. BAD combo. So Mom took Mike and I to Pizza Hut. It was yummy, though I was still disappointed and hairy. So the first thing I did when I got home was violate my rule of waxing-only when I'm that hairy and used, yes, a razor... and a sucky razor at that. Oh! the humanity!!!! You know it's bad when you feel shame when you are in the shower by yourself apologizing to your legs, pits and vajayjay for their disappointment.
Well, we had stopped by the Embassy, and who do we see? Charlie! He saved us from the boredom of the night. We went out that night to B52's. The music was good and Yon, Mike and I got tipsy. Then we went to Planters, where I'm sure that's when I headed down the path that rocks.
The next day, Yon and I were still giddy... which turned quickly into feeling like crap, but we faked it because Dad repeatedly reminded us of the trip to Bran and Peles Castle. Nicki drove and we all layed down. Not really, though I tried.
We stopped by little stores so mom could buy animal skins with furs on them "they had to be spotted." We first visited Bran, where Mike, Yon and I stood at the base doing the "Captain" pose. (Refer to myspace picture.) Also, I saw a metal penis, I did not put that on myspace but I can send it to you if you would like. Yeah, what it has to do with a Bran Castle, I still haven't figured out.
On to Peles, where I took tons of pictures of a building, which I never do because I never think they are interesting but DUDE, Kings are crazy about the shit in their house. I mean, there was a staircase made for looks, a hookah room (which was awesome), a table and chair made out of the "iron" of wood that took THREE generation of woodmaker men (yes, carpenters) to complete... Not to mention the 4,000 pieces of war gear this guy owned. I think he was compensating but that's just me... Crazy awesome... well, the most Wicked thing that happened to me in my whole life was I GOT SCRATCHED BY A LION! YES, A REAL LION!! Ok, so she was 7 months old - she still was bigger than me and had a vicious set of teeth. I went to pet her and she tried to kill me!!!! No, I'm lying, I think she was playing but dammit, she ALMOST broke skin... hahahaha... Yon and Mike pet her too... they can tell you their versions.
Anyway, we went out with Charlie again that night. This time to a bar, and then to a salsa club I think. I drank more than I should of, let's just leave it at that shall we? I had a great time, but I think everyone knows I had a great time. It reminded me of crazy nights at Stetsons but not getting kicked out. Good times. Yeah, again I met more British people there than I have here.
Sunday was a real chill day. I slept till about noon and hung out with Mom and Dad. I watch the BEST show in the WORLD - firefly. I kept telling Mike he was "SO LUCKY HE WAS GOING TO HAVE THIS EXPERIENCE!!" and he was. Yon felt like crap the entire day, then she had cramps. See, that's what happens when you hang out with Satan, I keep telling her he's bad news... I also talked to Dad a little about what I'm going to do... if you guys have any ideas, I'm all ears. I don't have a freakin plan yet... grrr...
Ok, then I got up at 4 AM and got on a plan and somehow 8 hours later arrived in London at 11:30. I just went back to bed. Oh and somehow I read three romance novels in all that time. Gotta love Mom giving me my crack. I'm back in the swing of things... Hopefully, we're going to see that play Equunox or something- y'know the one with Harry Potter getting naked. I don't know much about it, but hey if Potter gets naked - I'm there. Till the next shennanigans occur -
Love you,
me
Journal entry - san
Current mood: excited
Alright, here goes:
Things are AWESOME! I'm homesick, but that's nothing new. My job is pretty cool but I'm depressing my roommates with facts and figures such as: Every week two women die because of domestic violence in London - More women died at the hands of their husbands during the Vietnam war, that American soldiers during the same time. (American women, and that's not including those that died at the hands of their boyfriends.) So, my roommates think I'm dreary, like the weather here. I haven't been working out, but I have been cooking!! Yes, edible food. I know all of you are proud of me. I'm growing up and saving China. OH!! and I ordered a Jack and Coke (on my own, my choice) because any other drink in the damn country is weak as all hell. I know the Southern boys would be giving me high fives right now.
I work all week. The people are cool, I'm doing tons of admin work, but I like it. I even like filing because I know where everything is. The problem comes with answering the phones because I'm supposed to be empathetic and I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing on the line.... I am amazed at the system here, it really is extremely well done. People are massively nice, and I'd like to say that I'm a busy little bee and work. The only thing is, no one really cracks jokes so it's kinda killing my mojo a bit. Everyone is friendly but I need a joker and I think I'm in the wrong environment for that.... and everyone says "literally." I hate it because they use the word wrong. "It's lilterally five seconds away" No, it's not, 1-2-3-4-5. It's not here. grrr....
Enough about work, I went to Buckingham palace. Too many people there, we were there at the changing of the guards and I swear everyone thought the queen was going to come out and wave. It was so chaotic. So instead, we went to one of the royal parks. It was really pretty - until we saw a guy peeing on a tree! I was like, "dude, and they say Americans have no respect, that guy is probably from this country" We couldn't stop watching him, it was horrible but fascinating at the same time... My roommate Maegan wanted to take a picture but he finished up to fast... dammit. I also saw a homeless guy sleeping facedown in the grass... I wanted to be him. He was asleep on royal property, probably shitfaced, under a shaded tree at noon. Cool guy.
Ok ok, so I'm getting to the good part - I SAW WICKED!!!! (high pitch annoying squeal entering here) AAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!! It was more titilating than I thought it was going to be and I thought it was going to be phenominal. Hullo, it was WICKED AWESOME!!! It explained EVERYTHING - the cowardly lion, the tin man, the scarecrow... why everyone hated her, why she was considered evil, how her sister was evil... (I guessed that part, but it was still good). Be jealous people because i'm jealous of myself. I'm telling you, SO worth the money, I'd see it again and again and again. And again. :) I was on cloud 9 the whole night and never wanted to come down. I have picture of my roommies and I going but I haven't connected them to computer yet... but I have them. Y'know, not that it means much to you.
I'm heading off to the British Museum now so I have to get going. I wonder what experiences I'll have there. Anyway, Let me know if you want me to write about anything specific... otherwise, I'm keeping it this way. Coming soon: Athena's return back from Romania
Love you guys - me.
• May 30, 2007
Journal patru, I don't know how to spell it
Serves me right for trying to speak Romanian...
Ok, back from home. This is how it went:
I woke up at the but crack of dawn to get on a plane to visit the 'rents in RO. I get to see Germany for the first time - as I fly over it - btw, looks like all other countries from 2.5 miles up. Aw well, so, as I'm sitting there, I decide that the guy next to me is funny, so I start talking to him, or he talks to me, I wasn't sure. Anyway, he and his skater friend (I found out later) are playing Rummy. Yes, I finally learned to play a card game that doesn't involve drinking of any kind. The cards were first class, soft porn all the way. I think the guy next to me, Dominic, was slightly embarrassed at first but I was too focused on trying to win a game I really didn't notice them after the first few minutes. Oh ironic that my first British friend is one I met on the way to Germany. Go figure. He is a photographer for the skater guy... Anyway, after a bit of a chat, we parted ways - I gave him my number so we could "catch a pint." Eww... beer.
So I get there, Dad and Mom are both there and they both didn't notice me until I was in their face. Mom was half asleep and Dad was playing on his phone... Well, fun times just the same. I think we went to Arcade that night (with Yonie and Mike) and it was good. I got the couch, which wasn't a big deal because I sleep there anyway, even if I have a bed. All my roomies, here and in Tally know this. Something about a couch and keeping people from sitting on it.
Ok, so the next day was Friday!! I'm-getting-waxed-day!! I've been waiting for months!! Well not for months but long enough so that I am thoroughly disgusted in myself. I am so excited I'm jumping up and down to find out Mom didn't make a reservation (though I did ask her to a week before hand) and we couldn't get one at my normal place. You know me, I'm like, Let's DO this! Mom, the maid - Adrianna, Mike and I went on a mission to find a salon. Let's just say after 4 we gave up. No, it didn't happen. I even started looking for do-it-yourself wax because I do that at home... NONE. No wax, no freakin wax anywhere. So I'm hairy, disappointed and hungry. BAD combo. So Mom took Mike and I to Pizza Hut. It was yummy, though I was still disappointed and hairy. So the first thing I did when I got home was violate my rule of waxing-only when I'm that hairy and used, yes, a razor... and a sucky razor at that. Oh! the humanity!!!! You know it's bad when you feel shame when you are in the shower by yourself apologizing to your legs, pits and vajayjay for their disappointment.
Well, we had stopped by the Embassy, and who do we see? Charlie! He saved us from the boredom of the night. We went out that night to B52's. The music was good and Yon, Mike and I got tipsy. Then we went to Planters, where I'm sure that's when I headed down the path that rocks.
The next day, Yon and I were still giddy... which turned quickly into feeling like crap, but we faked it because Dad repeatedly reminded us of the trip to Bran and Peles Castle. Nicki drove and we all layed down. Not really, though I tried.
We stopped by little stores so mom could buy animal skins with furs on them "they had to be spotted." We first visited Bran, where Mike, Yon and I stood at the base doing the "Captain" pose. (Refer to myspace picture.) Also, I saw a metal penis, I did not put that on myspace but I can send it to you if you would like. Yeah, what it has to do with a Bran Castle, I still haven't figured out.
On to Peles, where I took tons of pictures of a building, which I never do because I never think they are interesting but DUDE, Kings are crazy about the shit in their house. I mean, there was a staircase made for looks, a hookah room (which was awesome), a table and chair made out of the "iron" of wood that took THREE generation of woodmaker men (yes, carpenters) to complete... Not to mention the 4,000 pieces of war gear this guy owned. I think he was compensating but that's just me... Crazy awesome... well, the most Wicked thing that happened to me in my whole life was I GOT SCRATCHED BY A LION! YES, A REAL LION!! Ok, so she was 7 months old - she still was bigger than me and had a vicious set of teeth. I went to pet her and she tried to kill me!!!! No, I'm lying, I think she was playing but dammit, she ALMOST broke skin... hahahaha... Yon and Mike pet her too... they can tell you their versions.
Anyway, we went out with Charlie again that night. This time to a bar, and then to a salsa club I think. I drank more than I should of, let's just leave it at that shall we? I had a great time, but I think everyone knows I had a great time. It reminded me of crazy nights at Stetsons but not getting kicked out. Good times. Yeah, again I met more British people there than I have here.
Sunday was a real chill day. I slept till about noon and hung out with Mom and Dad. I watch the BEST show in the WORLD - firefly. I kept telling Mike he was "SO LUCKY HE WAS GOING TO HAVE THIS EXPERIENCE!!" and he was. Yon felt like crap the entire day, then she had cramps. See, that's what happens when you hang out with Satan, I keep telling her he's bad news... I also talked to Dad a little about what I'm going to do... if you guys have any ideas, I'm all ears. I don't have a freakin plan yet... grrr...
Ok, then I got up at 4 AM and got on a plan and somehow 8 hours later arrived in London at 11:30. I just went back to bed. Oh and somehow I read three romance novels in all that time. Gotta love Mom giving me my crack. I'm back in the swing of things... Hopefully, we're going to see that play Equunox or something- y'know the one with Harry Potter getting naked. I don't know much about it, but hey if Potter gets naked - I'm there. Till the next shennanigans occur -
Love you,
me
Throw back - 1 and 2
Here is a series of letters i wrote when i was in London. So for those of you who have read it, just let it go. For those of you who haven't, enjoy.
May 3, 2007
Got here alive and well, Journal 1
Current mood: sleepy
Ok my friends. I'm here in London. Safe. I'm tired. I'm not even hungry.... I have a headache though. I have two roommates. It's weird sharing a room, OH MY GOD! My poor bathroom is so small, I feel like it has a inferiority complex. It's so sad.I have no idea how I'm going to shave my legs in there.... It's cooler than I thought it would be and I packed way too much stuff for this trip. I couldn't help myself though. I really do think I'll wear it all. I miss you guys, I hope you are doing well. I feel like I need to pick up a British Accent already. Ah well, maybe after my nap (that they tell you not to do....). You know what I say, WHAT-ever. The bed is calling out to me.
Love you guys,
Athena
May 6, 2007
Journal entry 2
Here's the scoop. 3 days in London. I found that its expensive. I went a club and it was £10 to get in, that's like $20. I miss my Stetson's already. Here are three things that I'm happy about:
1. Milk doesn't taste bad
2. I can understand everyone
3. The accents are hot
It's busy. I haven't been touring much. I want to start working. I came here to do that. I know it's London so it's supposed to be this whole experience but I've been to other countries and partied. I want to work dammit. I have this graduation thing I want to do.
I did see Les Miserables, it was awesome. It was a small theater which I found I liked better. People here are really friendly. Walking is the best way to get anywhere. I like it, I just need more flat shoes. People trip all the time on the freaking sidewalk. Someone should really do something about that... :) what else? what else? The people here don't celebrate Cinco de Mayo... So the Americans did. Gotta love my people. It was fun. I did a walking tour around my block. It was nice. We have some cool things around here. We are like almost in the theater district. (It's considered the "posh" side of town.) The gay district is close-by as is the strip joints. Crazy isn't it? It is a lot like New York suprisingly. It's busy.
Strangely, I miss ol' Tally. I guess I got used to the slower lifestyle. Well, that's it for now.
Whoosh....
May 3, 2007
Got here alive and well, Journal 1
Current mood: sleepy
Ok my friends. I'm here in London. Safe. I'm tired. I'm not even hungry.... I have a headache though. I have two roommates. It's weird sharing a room, OH MY GOD! My poor bathroom is so small, I feel like it has a inferiority complex. It's so sad.I have no idea how I'm going to shave my legs in there.... It's cooler than I thought it would be and I packed way too much stuff for this trip. I couldn't help myself though. I really do think I'll wear it all. I miss you guys, I hope you are doing well. I feel like I need to pick up a British Accent already. Ah well, maybe after my nap (that they tell you not to do....). You know what I say, WHAT-ever. The bed is calling out to me.
Love you guys,
Athena
May 6, 2007
Journal entry 2
Here's the scoop. 3 days in London. I found that its expensive. I went a club and it was £10 to get in, that's like $20. I miss my Stetson's already. Here are three things that I'm happy about:
1. Milk doesn't taste bad
2. I can understand everyone
3. The accents are hot
It's busy. I haven't been touring much. I want to start working. I came here to do that. I know it's London so it's supposed to be this whole experience but I've been to other countries and partied. I want to work dammit. I have this graduation thing I want to do.
I did see Les Miserables, it was awesome. It was a small theater which I found I liked better. People here are really friendly. Walking is the best way to get anywhere. I like it, I just need more flat shoes. People trip all the time on the freaking sidewalk. Someone should really do something about that... :) what else? what else? The people here don't celebrate Cinco de Mayo... So the Americans did. Gotta love my people. It was fun. I did a walking tour around my block. It was nice. We have some cool things around here. We are like almost in the theater district. (It's considered the "posh" side of town.) The gay district is close-by as is the strip joints. Crazy isn't it? It is a lot like New York suprisingly. It's busy.
Strangely, I miss ol' Tally. I guess I got used to the slower lifestyle. Well, that's it for now.
Whoosh....
Monday, November 22, 2010
The wedding date
So there I was.... surrounded... by strangers in a church, and it occurred to me: Being a wedding date can really suck sometimes. Mind you, not this particular time, but sometimes yes. (In this fashion, I mean, YOU aren't the one invited - you are the DATE, the plus one, the significant other, the extra entree... whatever.)
Furthermore, I have this thing against dates - I've gotten over it as my boyfriend's wallet can vouch. BUT I used to hate them.
These are some various reasons why:
1. It's an initial interview - and that's not really who you are, so I feel like its a waste of time. I.e. I don't usually wear makeup or heels... why would i do it for a first date? Because I am sheep.
2. I have to eat in front of you, meaning you have to eat in front of me AND maintain a conversation, without awkward flow. (Oh and NO I don't order a salad as an entree unless I really want a salad for an entree... screw you, I'm hungry)
3. I can't get away from you if you are a terrible conversationalist.
4. I can't get away from you if you drove.
5. The end of the date... does anyone really know how to get out of that? I mean, I usually make a point to talk about the end of the date so that I don't have to think about it later.... or I just run away from you. <----always works
Well, wedding dates are always a little awkward to begin with because you are at a sacred ceremony tying two people together for life (which as you know, gets me a little nervous anyway.)
Hey would you like to join me at an occasion where love and forever is the topic of conversation with family members and priests (or deacons, judges etc.) even though I don't know you that well....
Now, I've been a wedding date twice... the first time, it was a STUPID STUPID idea. I went with this guy, who I did not know that well, because he had just moved to Tally (and occasionally my brain shuts off and I forget that sometimes I don't have to be nice.... stupid manners) and it was for a wedding where I knew NO ONE, because he was OLD friends with the bride and groom, like he knew them 10 years ago or something. There wasn't even a middle person to talk with because HE didn't really know anyone... but not only that but the guy was AWKWARD anyway... I mean, I wasn't interested in him like that, I thought I was just being a friend because that's how he phrased the "wedding date question", but NOPE.
He wanted some Theen.
Great so now.
a - at a wedding where I know NO ONE except my awkward date.
b - trapped with a guy that might make a move, thinking I'm one of those girls who's underwear falls off at the sight of a white dress. (yeah he really didn't think this one through)
So what did I do??
I went to the bar. And to my surprise, they were older men. Yup, that's who I made friends with. The older men were the best "make a move" repellent ever. Yes, people, I found an out. Men don't want to look like asses in front of OLDER men.
I didn't move from that spot once, til we were leaving, which I made as soon as I could without being rude. And yes, by that point, the "time to make a move" passed because "I was pooped". :)
For the record, it was beautiful, but when beautiful mixes with uncomfortable, weird, awkward... well it's like that joke. "You build a million bridges, you're a bridge builder... but you suck one dick...."
HOWEVER, I can honestly say that I enjoyed my last "wedding date" experience. The people were awesome and outgoing so that helped. But really there are a few things that I really need to mention to get the juices flowing for those "dates": guys listen up. (Girls, well you know what to do)
1. Open bar - the answer is always yes. (Or in most of my cases, a date that knows to keep your beverage filled - if it's cash bar, boys pony up.)
2. Correct table pairing. This matters, I had the greatest people at my table. They laughed and my jokes, THEY were funny, they agreed to take shots... :)
3. A DJ that takes requests and can keep people alive.
Nothing like dancing, with a drink in your hand, with your new friends, singing "FREE FALLING".
Oh, and having an understanding boyfriend helps. By that I mean strong... and able to lift your body and carry you to the house...
Furthermore, I have this thing against dates - I've gotten over it as my boyfriend's wallet can vouch. BUT I used to hate them.
These are some various reasons why:
1. It's an initial interview - and that's not really who you are, so I feel like its a waste of time. I.e. I don't usually wear makeup or heels... why would i do it for a first date? Because I am sheep.
2. I have to eat in front of you, meaning you have to eat in front of me AND maintain a conversation, without awkward flow. (Oh and NO I don't order a salad as an entree unless I really want a salad for an entree... screw you, I'm hungry)
3. I can't get away from you if you are a terrible conversationalist.
4. I can't get away from you if you drove.
5. The end of the date... does anyone really know how to get out of that? I mean, I usually make a point to talk about the end of the date so that I don't have to think about it later.... or I just run away from you. <----always works
Well, wedding dates are always a little awkward to begin with because you are at a sacred ceremony tying two people together for life (which as you know, gets me a little nervous anyway.)
Hey would you like to join me at an occasion where love and forever is the topic of conversation with family members and priests (or deacons, judges etc.) even though I don't know you that well....
Now, I've been a wedding date twice... the first time, it was a STUPID STUPID idea. I went with this guy, who I did not know that well, because he had just moved to Tally (and occasionally my brain shuts off and I forget that sometimes I don't have to be nice.... stupid manners) and it was for a wedding where I knew NO ONE, because he was OLD friends with the bride and groom, like he knew them 10 years ago or something. There wasn't even a middle person to talk with because HE didn't really know anyone... but not only that but the guy was AWKWARD anyway... I mean, I wasn't interested in him like that, I thought I was just being a friend because that's how he phrased the "wedding date question", but NOPE.
He wanted some Theen.
Great so now.
a - at a wedding where I know NO ONE except my awkward date.
b - trapped with a guy that might make a move, thinking I'm one of those girls who's underwear falls off at the sight of a white dress. (yeah he really didn't think this one through)
So what did I do??
I went to the bar. And to my surprise, they were older men. Yup, that's who I made friends with. The older men were the best "make a move" repellent ever. Yes, people, I found an out. Men don't want to look like asses in front of OLDER men.
I didn't move from that spot once, til we were leaving, which I made as soon as I could without being rude. And yes, by that point, the "time to make a move" passed because "I was pooped". :)
For the record, it was beautiful, but when beautiful mixes with uncomfortable, weird, awkward... well it's like that joke. "You build a million bridges, you're a bridge builder... but you suck one dick...."
HOWEVER, I can honestly say that I enjoyed my last "wedding date" experience. The people were awesome and outgoing so that helped. But really there are a few things that I really need to mention to get the juices flowing for those "dates": guys listen up. (Girls, well you know what to do)
1. Open bar - the answer is always yes. (Or in most of my cases, a date that knows to keep your beverage filled - if it's cash bar, boys pony up.)
2. Correct table pairing. This matters, I had the greatest people at my table. They laughed and my jokes, THEY were funny, they agreed to take shots... :)
3. A DJ that takes requests and can keep people alive.
Nothing like dancing, with a drink in your hand, with your new friends, singing "FREE FALLING".
Oh, and having an understanding boyfriend helps. By that I mean strong... and able to lift your body and carry you to the house...
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
I've been having trouble
So there I am surrounded... by cookbooks and paper... I started this writing "thing" that is supposed to be like non-stop-going-crazy-whatever-you-want-to-say... and I realize something. I don't want to SAY anything. I don't create my own stories with my imagination... I experience life then exaggerate about how it went down.
NO plot
NO in-depth characters
NO antagonist (unless I somehow make it myself)
NO hero (ummm... yeah, I'm never gonna be a hero)
NO ending...
I just usually have a setting and some thoughts (or unfortunate circumstance) and go.
Crazy dogs - YES
CRAZY people- YES
Poop..... yess....
So instead of writing about my Halloween because it was just a party time, I'm going to write a story about my friend Limo, because this really happened... and it's funny
H'ok. You must know by now, I have some great friends and this is why:
My boyfriend's parents live in this like huge house, by that I mean mansion... the size of the pool area is as big as my old apartment... (please don't think this a reflection on my bf, who i love dearly, because he currently lives in a kinda small room filled with his stuff, NOT in said mansion....)
Well, my friend Limo, his gf (Soprano) and Dev and I crashed after Halloween. The next day, I'm feeling surprisingly ok. but... my ass hurts. Ok, not my ass - more my asshole. AND YES, the first thing I did was accuse my bf of a personal foul... he said, "NAY friend, Nay." And I believe him, mainly because I remembered what happened that night. I'm laying on the bed, contemplating my hurt asshole, when Limo comes in. Limo is built like a Mac Truck, me, I'm more of a mini coop.
Limo played by Mac Truck: Hey, what's going on?
Me - mini coop: Oh, nothing.... by that I mean my asshole hurts and I'm afraid to poop.
Limo: SO... about that....
Me: ......
Limo: You know how there's like a million zillion bathrooms in this place....
Me: uh huh.....
Limo: Dev showed me like two upstairs, then two downstairs... he like gave me the options and tried to guide me there. When I finally found one, well wouldn't you know I had to go, y'know, and well, I used the only one in the entire house that won't flush.
Me: BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA !!!!!!!!
After a minute of me laughing:
Me: dude that sucks.
Needless to say, it turned out all right. Toilet did flush (thank the toilet lords of the drain), but man, I had to tell everyone then laugh again.
We went to breakfast (which was amazing) and I hung out with the fam. I made sure they knew that my ass hurt and that Limo's poop is infamous.
But it reminded me of another story that happened the day before that I CAN'T believe I didn't mention. OK, so Limo and Soprano drove down to come hang for Halloween. We totally had a Rock Band 3 party and it was AWESOME. I was a backup singer but most importantly I was the Hookah Manager. (For the rest of you, no, not pot... I don't do that crap, for shizzle.)
Well after a night of going crazy with the Jackson 5 and Coheed, it was time to turn in. My sister's husband is on the couch fast asleep - I'm about to head to bed, Limo just went to grab something to eat, and Soprano is smoking the hookah... Limo sits down and CRASH!!!BOOM!POW!!! (not really but you get it)
THE HOOKAH HAS TIPPED OVER AND IS NOW BURNING THE COUCH!
Everything happens at once - Limo jumps up so he won't get burned in the back, while Soprano jumps up to save Limo and the Hookah (dude, the fact that it didn't break is remarkable.) My bro-in-law flies to a standing position throws off the cushions like he's Hulk Hogan. Limo speeds to grab the coals with a plastic wrapper; no sooner had he picked it up Soprano yells, "THAT'S PLASTIC," Limo screams in pain (yet remarkably threw the coals on the glass table without missing), and I look around for something to stop the burning... (Yes, friends I'm a bit slower, but only because I was the furthest away). I see my barcardi/coke and water... What do you think I threw to save the day?
Water, you idiots.
What is this? Amateur hour? (Soprano, 2010)
Anyway, that was the fastest 15 seconds in the world and started the weekend. Nice right?
Oh wait, I know you are wondering, so what happened to your asshole? Did you fall on a cone shaped contraption? Did your boyfriend play with the no fly zone? Did you sit in a middle seat that wasn't really middle seat? I think everyone knows.
I was abducted by aliens and they gave me an anal probe.
NO plot
NO in-depth characters
NO antagonist (unless I somehow make it myself)
NO hero (ummm... yeah, I'm never gonna be a hero)
NO ending...
I just usually have a setting and some thoughts (or unfortunate circumstance) and go.
Crazy dogs - YES
CRAZY people- YES
Poop..... yess....
So instead of writing about my Halloween because it was just a party time, I'm going to write a story about my friend Limo, because this really happened... and it's funny
H'ok. You must know by now, I have some great friends and this is why:
My boyfriend's parents live in this like huge house, by that I mean mansion... the size of the pool area is as big as my old apartment... (please don't think this a reflection on my bf, who i love dearly, because he currently lives in a kinda small room filled with his stuff, NOT in said mansion....)
Well, my friend Limo, his gf (Soprano) and Dev and I crashed after Halloween. The next day, I'm feeling surprisingly ok. but... my ass hurts. Ok, not my ass - more my asshole. AND YES, the first thing I did was accuse my bf of a personal foul... he said, "NAY friend, Nay." And I believe him, mainly because I remembered what happened that night. I'm laying on the bed, contemplating my hurt asshole, when Limo comes in. Limo is built like a Mac Truck, me, I'm more of a mini coop.
Limo played by Mac Truck: Hey, what's going on?
Me - mini coop: Oh, nothing.... by that I mean my asshole hurts and I'm afraid to poop.
Limo: SO... about that....
Me: ......
Limo: You know how there's like a million zillion bathrooms in this place....
Me: uh huh.....
Limo: Dev showed me like two upstairs, then two downstairs... he like gave me the options and tried to guide me there. When I finally found one, well wouldn't you know I had to go, y'know, and well, I used the only one in the entire house that won't flush.
Me: BWAH HA HA HA HA HA HA !!!!!!!!
After a minute of me laughing:
Me: dude that sucks.
Needless to say, it turned out all right. Toilet did flush (thank the toilet lords of the drain), but man, I had to tell everyone then laugh again.
We went to breakfast (which was amazing) and I hung out with the fam. I made sure they knew that my ass hurt and that Limo's poop is infamous.
But it reminded me of another story that happened the day before that I CAN'T believe I didn't mention. OK, so Limo and Soprano drove down to come hang for Halloween. We totally had a Rock Band 3 party and it was AWESOME. I was a backup singer but most importantly I was the Hookah Manager. (For the rest of you, no, not pot... I don't do that crap, for shizzle.)
Well after a night of going crazy with the Jackson 5 and Coheed, it was time to turn in. My sister's husband is on the couch fast asleep - I'm about to head to bed, Limo just went to grab something to eat, and Soprano is smoking the hookah... Limo sits down and CRASH!!!BOOM!POW!!! (not really but you get it)
THE HOOKAH HAS TIPPED OVER AND IS NOW BURNING THE COUCH!
Everything happens at once - Limo jumps up so he won't get burned in the back, while Soprano jumps up to save Limo and the Hookah (dude, the fact that it didn't break is remarkable.) My bro-in-law flies to a standing position throws off the cushions like he's Hulk Hogan. Limo speeds to grab the coals with a plastic wrapper; no sooner had he picked it up Soprano yells, "THAT'S PLASTIC," Limo screams in pain (yet remarkably threw the coals on the glass table without missing), and I look around for something to stop the burning... (Yes, friends I'm a bit slower, but only because I was the furthest away). I see my barcardi/coke and water... What do you think I threw to save the day?
Water, you idiots.
What is this? Amateur hour? (Soprano, 2010)
Anyway, that was the fastest 15 seconds in the world and started the weekend. Nice right?
Oh wait, I know you are wondering, so what happened to your asshole? Did you fall on a cone shaped contraption? Did your boyfriend play with the no fly zone? Did you sit in a middle seat that wasn't really middle seat? I think everyone knows.
I was abducted by aliens and they gave me an anal probe.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
No, its ok.... I'm with the band.
So there I was surrounded.... by a loud speaker system. You are thinking this is about music, don't you?
Nay, my friend.
Those speakers were attached to my sister's television - which is awesomeness. I got to thinking about how much TV I actually watch, and let me tell you... one would think I had no social life with the amount of television I not only watch, but KNOW. I mean like ESP.
Let me explain. See, I've got a few shows that I absolutely love. I'll name a few: Firefly (canceled and FOX I'm still upset about it), criminal minds, the closer, Law & Order (old school, which I'm ok with the cancellation even though its like losing long lost babysitter), Law & Order SVU, the Good Wife, Castle, House, Grey's Anatomy, and Lie to me... like I said - just to name a few. Going on, well, my family is pretty hardcore about our shows. (Yeah, I joke that my family are like olympian couch potatoes..... but its so true - like, we really could win something)
ANYWAY, I have rules and little things that may seem weird to the normal folks, but to me make absolute sense:
1. Don't call me during my show and expect me to hold a conversation. Yes, I'll pick up the phone, but then be P.O.d that you called me. Don't ask why.
2. When I pick up and tell you my show is on, I expect the following:
a. You to understand.
b. You to keep the conversation less than 15 seconds. "Hi, love you, talk to you later, uh-huh, bye" (The PERFECT CONVERSATION during a show.)
c. You to wait for the commercial break. I'll call you during the commercial break but will hang up mid-sentence if my show comes back on and you are talking too much. "Really? are you ok? do you need me to... do you... nope gotta go, shows back on"
3. If people are over and they are talking during my show, I will mute the show and read the captions - completely ignoring you/people. (My roommates could not believe this ability until it happened.... repeatedly.) AND I slant my eyes at them when i can spare it, (I'm watching in caps, I can't really look away).
Ok, now it's a little weird, but I'm better than SOME people.... I won't name names, but the person who is related to me and lives with me - gets so annoyed with background noise she will PAUSE the show, regardless of who is watching it and if they have the ability to ignore everything else.
Or my most favorite female who gave birth to me pretends she's listening to you while watching her show and completely starts making comments that have no relevance. "well, you know how that goes" or "That's craziness"... no mom, me telling you i love you is not that crazy.... (LOVE YOU!)
Now you ask: WHY? Why spend so much time in front of a TV? Why invest so much emotion into a written script? Why pretend like the show matters? Why hasn't my ass become completely flat?
No one knows - I'm a freak of nature.
But serial .... i think it's because of this: "I'm with the band" mentality.
I get so wrapped into a show - I'm like THERE. I mean, I watch criminal minds and I'm part of the team! "Hotch, dude, I really think we should hold on to this profile, something is not sitting with me right" And when I'm right and they are slow - I'm like, DUDE I TOLD YOU!!! Yeah, and I feel like I should heckle my teammates for slowing the show down.
Or I'll watch another show, like Lie to Me, and study the faces like I'm a student and then make my guesses.... but yeah, I'm trying to read faces...
OR like Law and Order, I really do figure out what the motivations are and what questions the detectives need to ask... and again, get annoyed when i'm ahead of the game. "Come on guys.... that was TOO predictable... you know better, that guy looked totally creepy" "HULLO, a bit character played by a well known actress? Of course, she's the killer!"
In a strange way, these characters are my buddies in helping fight crime. I'm a crime fighting, puzzle solving, quick witted side kick that can eat while she's doing it!!!!! I get SO happy when I solve a case, hell even when I'm wrong all the way through and the case gets solved - I still get that feeling of completion. "TAKE THAT YOU DIRT BAG!"
No gonna lie, sometimes, it just feels good to beat the characters out of the big arrest or big confession or I'd say big disease (but honestly, I've never actually solved a House case, he's so wily). But you get the picture.
i'm there with them, making the televised world a better, safer place to live. Little Timmy would thank me for Lassie and I putting our brains together to find him in that well. I'm just saying maybe my television watching is a powerful tool. I mean, wouldn't you want me on your crime fighting team?
Nay, my friend.
Those speakers were attached to my sister's television - which is awesomeness. I got to thinking about how much TV I actually watch, and let me tell you... one would think I had no social life with the amount of television I not only watch, but KNOW. I mean like ESP.
Let me explain. See, I've got a few shows that I absolutely love. I'll name a few: Firefly (canceled and FOX I'm still upset about it), criminal minds, the closer, Law & Order (old school, which I'm ok with the cancellation even though its like losing long lost babysitter), Law & Order SVU, the Good Wife, Castle, House, Grey's Anatomy, and Lie to me... like I said - just to name a few. Going on, well, my family is pretty hardcore about our shows. (Yeah, I joke that my family are like olympian couch potatoes..... but its so true - like, we really could win something)
ANYWAY, I have rules and little things that may seem weird to the normal folks, but to me make absolute sense:
1. Don't call me during my show and expect me to hold a conversation. Yes, I'll pick up the phone, but then be P.O.d that you called me. Don't ask why.
2. When I pick up and tell you my show is on, I expect the following:
a. You to understand.
b. You to keep the conversation less than 15 seconds. "Hi, love you, talk to you later, uh-huh, bye" (The PERFECT CONVERSATION during a show.)
c. You to wait for the commercial break. I'll call you during the commercial break but will hang up mid-sentence if my show comes back on and you are talking too much. "Really? are you ok? do you need me to... do you... nope gotta go, shows back on"
3. If people are over and they are talking during my show, I will mute the show and read the captions - completely ignoring you/people. (My roommates could not believe this ability until it happened.... repeatedly.) AND I slant my eyes at them when i can spare it, (I'm watching in caps, I can't really look away).
Ok, now it's a little weird, but I'm better than SOME people.... I won't name names, but the person who is related to me and lives with me - gets so annoyed with background noise she will PAUSE the show, regardless of who is watching it and if they have the ability to ignore everything else.
Or my most favorite female who gave birth to me pretends she's listening to you while watching her show and completely starts making comments that have no relevance. "well, you know how that goes" or "That's craziness"... no mom, me telling you i love you is not that crazy.... (LOVE YOU!)
Now you ask: WHY? Why spend so much time in front of a TV? Why invest so much emotion into a written script? Why pretend like the show matters? Why hasn't my ass become completely flat?
No one knows - I'm a freak of nature.
But serial .... i think it's because of this: "I'm with the band" mentality.
I get so wrapped into a show - I'm like THERE. I mean, I watch criminal minds and I'm part of the team! "Hotch, dude, I really think we should hold on to this profile, something is not sitting with me right" And when I'm right and they are slow - I'm like, DUDE I TOLD YOU!!! Yeah, and I feel like I should heckle my teammates for slowing the show down.
Or I'll watch another show, like Lie to Me, and study the faces like I'm a student and then make my guesses.... but yeah, I'm trying to read faces...
OR like Law and Order, I really do figure out what the motivations are and what questions the detectives need to ask... and again, get annoyed when i'm ahead of the game. "Come on guys.... that was TOO predictable... you know better, that guy looked totally creepy" "HULLO, a bit character played by a well known actress? Of course, she's the killer!"
In a strange way, these characters are my buddies in helping fight crime. I'm a crime fighting, puzzle solving, quick witted side kick that can eat while she's doing it!!!!! I get SO happy when I solve a case, hell even when I'm wrong all the way through and the case gets solved - I still get that feeling of completion. "TAKE THAT YOU DIRT BAG!"
No gonna lie, sometimes, it just feels good to beat the characters out of the big arrest or big confession or I'd say big disease (but honestly, I've never actually solved a House case, he's so wily). But you get the picture.
i'm there with them, making the televised world a better, safer place to live. Little Timmy would thank me for Lassie and I putting our brains together to find him in that well. I'm just saying maybe my television watching is a powerful tool. I mean, wouldn't you want me on your crime fighting team?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Yes, my underwear
So there I was.... surrounded by loads of laundry. I, unlike most people I know, enjoy the monotony of folding. It's soothing, like when I fill out paperwork... yes, paperwork. Something about doing something that I don't have to think about, calms me down... which explains my Masters in Public Admin. (NO, not that it was brainless... that I enjoy paperwork and research... jeez, haters)
Anyway, I was folding my underwear, yes my underwear, and noticed something quite shocking... my underwear... its getting bigger.
You: WHAT?!
Me:I know I'm astounded as well.
I'm not saying my ass is getting bigger, mayhaps it is as well... but that my actual underwear does not consist of just strips of cloth or string. Where did they all go? Did they disappear with the socks? (Actually, my dog Pookah, has this thing for shredding thongs - true story - its gross.)
Then it hits me - I'm gonna tell you because one day this will make sense to others if they have not already - you will go through the transition to comfy undies. I stopped replacing, buying, or even looking at thongs.
You:WHAT?
Me: I am astounded as well, no... well, actually I'm not.
Most girls: "No, I find thongs more comfortable", "they are sexy", "I hate panty lines", "it makes pole dancing easier"...
You are brainwashed. Think back, WAY back to your first thong. Here I'll tell you about mine:
(My mom is played by Lois from family guy, I am Meg without glasses and that stupid hat.)
Meg (me): Mom, I need a thong because my underwear and bloomers are the same size, and it looks bad.
Lois: Ok, honey. I'll pick some up later after work. (She worked at Macy's.)
LATER
Lois: Here baby, I brought you two kinds.
Meg: What is that?
Lois: These are thongs. This one is mesh and this one is cotton blend.
Meg: wait a minute... Is that even really considered underwear? Seriously? It only covers the diamond in the rough... And why would you even wear a mesh thong? You can see right through it... see? (Meg, looking through the mesh thong, waving at Lois)
Lois: Ummmm... this is a thong, sweetheart.
Meg: Fine, I'll wash it and try it on later tonight, I'll suffer for my sport (which was cheerleading - refer back to my previous confusion of why I thought I was the shit).
LATER TONIGHT
Meg: Mom, this goes up my butt.
Lois: It's supposed to dear.
Meg: It feels like rope burn.
NOW
I remember grinning and bearing it because it was what was expected of my bum and modern underwear wearing teenagers. In fact, until I got to college, I was a thong wearer UNTIL (boys you may want to look away) it turns out that your girl parts can get infections. Yeah, I went there. Be grossed out because I WAS. And do you know WHY thong wearers are more prone to infection?
(Fellas, look away or I'll destroy your thong wearing world)
THAT STRIP OF CLOTH RUBS THE SEWER WITH THE PLAYGROUND! In fact, it's a GYNECOLOGICAL NIGHTMARE.
It makes it temporarily out of order... or in my case, constantly. AND for another fun fact, a MAN created the thong. Of course. OK, so I didn't like the idea of my limited thong wearing time when I first was put on my thong diet, but who really likes a diet? But just like eating healthy (no disgusting pun intended), I got used to it. So used to it, almost every guy I've ever dated probably remembers my underwear as anything but a thong. But now, I hate it when my butt gets cold. Seriously, it's a pet peeve of mine, things like that will keep me up late at night. Another true story.
That's not to say I didn't try out the boy shorts. I like them and I still wear those types but seriously because I don't wear cheerleading uniforms, business suits, and skin tight jeans that often anymore (cheerleading uniform not for YEARS), I don't see the point in wearing a thong.
So while I'm folding these underwear that are "full bottom" (NOT waist high, I still wear low rise and mayhaps with cute little things on them... I have standards), I realize I have crossed over another line of being comfortable over being sexy. At first, I felt shame, then I remember that most 28 year olds don't have my sweet ass and I feel better. :)
To all of my 5 loyal readers, I say this: (standing with hands on my hips)
I stand proud in my full bottom low ride cotton underwear.
(Turning) And you can see that it is toasty warm.
Anyway, I was folding my underwear, yes my underwear, and noticed something quite shocking... my underwear... its getting bigger.
You: WHAT?!
Me:I know I'm astounded as well.
I'm not saying my ass is getting bigger, mayhaps it is as well... but that my actual underwear does not consist of just strips of cloth or string. Where did they all go? Did they disappear with the socks? (Actually, my dog Pookah, has this thing for shredding thongs - true story - its gross.)
Then it hits me - I'm gonna tell you because one day this will make sense to others if they have not already - you will go through the transition to comfy undies. I stopped replacing, buying, or even looking at thongs.
You:WHAT?
Me: I am astounded as well, no... well, actually I'm not.
Most girls: "No, I find thongs more comfortable", "they are sexy", "I hate panty lines", "it makes pole dancing easier"...
You are brainwashed. Think back, WAY back to your first thong. Here I'll tell you about mine:
(My mom is played by Lois from family guy, I am Meg without glasses and that stupid hat.)
Meg (me): Mom, I need a thong because my underwear and bloomers are the same size, and it looks bad.
Lois: Ok, honey. I'll pick some up later after work. (She worked at Macy's.)
LATER
Lois: Here baby, I brought you two kinds.
Meg: What is that?
Lois: These are thongs. This one is mesh and this one is cotton blend.
Meg: wait a minute... Is that even really considered underwear? Seriously? It only covers the diamond in the rough... And why would you even wear a mesh thong? You can see right through it... see? (Meg, looking through the mesh thong, waving at Lois)
Lois: Ummmm... this is a thong, sweetheart.
Meg: Fine, I'll wash it and try it on later tonight, I'll suffer for my sport (which was cheerleading - refer back to my previous confusion of why I thought I was the shit).
LATER TONIGHT
Meg: Mom, this goes up my butt.
Lois: It's supposed to dear.
Meg: It feels like rope burn.
NOW
I remember grinning and bearing it because it was what was expected of my bum and modern underwear wearing teenagers. In fact, until I got to college, I was a thong wearer UNTIL (boys you may want to look away) it turns out that your girl parts can get infections. Yeah, I went there. Be grossed out because I WAS. And do you know WHY thong wearers are more prone to infection?
(Fellas, look away or I'll destroy your thong wearing world)
THAT STRIP OF CLOTH RUBS THE SEWER WITH THE PLAYGROUND! In fact, it's a GYNECOLOGICAL NIGHTMARE.
It makes it temporarily out of order... or in my case, constantly. AND for another fun fact, a MAN created the thong. Of course. OK, so I didn't like the idea of my limited thong wearing time when I first was put on my thong diet, but who really likes a diet? But just like eating healthy (no disgusting pun intended), I got used to it. So used to it, almost every guy I've ever dated probably remembers my underwear as anything but a thong. But now, I hate it when my butt gets cold. Seriously, it's a pet peeve of mine, things like that will keep me up late at night. Another true story.
That's not to say I didn't try out the boy shorts. I like them and I still wear those types but seriously because I don't wear cheerleading uniforms, business suits, and skin tight jeans that often anymore (cheerleading uniform not for YEARS), I don't see the point in wearing a thong.
So while I'm folding these underwear that are "full bottom" (NOT waist high, I still wear low rise and mayhaps with cute little things on them... I have standards), I realize I have crossed over another line of being comfortable over being sexy. At first, I felt shame, then I remember that most 28 year olds don't have my sweet ass and I feel better. :)
To all of my 5 loyal readers, I say this: (standing with hands on my hips)
I stand proud in my full bottom low ride cotton underwear.
(Turning) And you can see that it is toasty warm.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Compromise...
To me that word is as scary as a few others that raises the hair on my neck...
1. Commitment (or like FOREVER or ETERNALLY)
2. Matrimony (or Marriage - though if i had a choice marriage is less scary only because I've seen "marriages" like Britney Spears and wedding shows like bridezilla and its really not as serious sounding as matrimony when they show it.)
3. Meningitis. Even spelling it give me the willies. Yes, it's more scary to me than the letters HIV... but not as scary as the letters AIDS...
4. Warrant - not because I've ever gotten one, but because it's always serious on tv when people do get one and if someone handed it to me, I would freak. I wonder if crying would get me out of it...?
"Please officer, I NEVER LEARNED TO READ!"
Hey, it's worth a try.
I am just kinda terrible at compromise. Hell, AND I know that most of the time guys hate it that girls cry and that is one ace in my pocket. I could use it over and over again, yet, I can't lower myself to do it to get my way. It's like my shoulder angels look at me and the devil is like "you're better than that" and the angel is like "yeah that's pretty pathetic".
Thanks alot assholes, why take the easy way?
(FYI: They've got names: Bad shoulder angel - Rocco, Good shoulder Angel - George.)
So instead, I just get angry (though I can proudly say I have not gone all "Latin Rage" as C-had used to say). I get angry and a slant my eyes and I think of all the ways I could argue myself out of it. I used to be worse... It was like I was loading up my holster with brain grenades and psycho-launchers ready to do a mental battle where mind bullets were just not enough. Sometimes I even had a wit time bomb, yeah, I played it only when I knew I could level an entire argument with either shame, guilt, or just plain stupidity.
Problem was my devil shoulder angel (Rocco) was always like, "here use this" and handed me a machete or said "Good one Theen!" after I've taken another part of your humanity. I'm not proud of it, and my good angel stood there and not even bothering to say, "You're going to hell", nope. He stood there filing his nails and saying, "yeah, I can't believe I'm getting overtime for this".
Bad George - trust me, his review is going to be scathing when I get to St. Peter. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Well... that was then, I said I USED to be like that.
In the last few years, that good angel (George) has been coming at me with avengence - I watch "Hoarding" on A&E and yeah, I teared up - like a panzy-ass. Oh OH!!! And that stupid Animal abuse commercial with Sarah McLachlan singing Angel in the background... It's 1 minute of pure torture! Everytime I see that commercial I break down and tear up like someone is slowing pulling out my eyelashes or making me watch the bachelor - it's painful! STUPID George. He's so wily. He's filled me with empathy to my ears, that sometimes I feel like a pregnant woman watching a lifetime movie.
Going back to compromise - it's not that I don't know how to do it, I've got three sisters. I'm pretty good at it sometimes. When it comes to boyfriends, I just need to have certain things my way.
1. I control the TV always.
2. I eat anything I want - always
3. I win... always
See? It's SO HARD! ARGH!! And that matrimony word has like all these other words that I don't like ALL put into ONE meaning.
As defined by Theen's all knowing vocab of wonderment and wiles:
Matrimony (n.)- Commitment, compromise, FOREVER, share, split your time, divide half, group decision making. (...I think more than one is a group in this case as apparently independent decision making causes some issues as I have found out in previous relationships - like that time I decided to move to London...)
Jeez... no wonder divorce is America's new past time. Which is another word I hate more than matrimony but since I have not yet passed go on THAT score, I think I'm ok from the big D word.
That's not to say that I'm not loving. I never said that. If you thought that, check yourself. I'm a very loving person, I just like to love things on my terms.
I.e. I love that sweater on the rack, take it off, it looks like shit on you.
Just kidding - that was not really part of this discussion but kinda funny :)
I'm slowly learning, begrudgingly. I suppose that's why I date men with patience... Are you surprised I date? Seriously?
Here's another word: Sex.
1. Commitment (or like FOREVER or ETERNALLY)
2. Matrimony (or Marriage - though if i had a choice marriage is less scary only because I've seen "marriages" like Britney Spears and wedding shows like bridezilla and its really not as serious sounding as matrimony when they show it.)
3. Meningitis. Even spelling it give me the willies. Yes, it's more scary to me than the letters HIV... but not as scary as the letters AIDS...
4. Warrant - not because I've ever gotten one, but because it's always serious on tv when people do get one and if someone handed it to me, I would freak. I wonder if crying would get me out of it...?
"Please officer, I NEVER LEARNED TO READ!"
Hey, it's worth a try.
I am just kinda terrible at compromise. Hell, AND I know that most of the time guys hate it that girls cry and that is one ace in my pocket. I could use it over and over again, yet, I can't lower myself to do it to get my way. It's like my shoulder angels look at me and the devil is like "you're better than that" and the angel is like "yeah that's pretty pathetic".
Thanks alot assholes, why take the easy way?
(FYI: They've got names: Bad shoulder angel - Rocco, Good shoulder Angel - George.)
So instead, I just get angry (though I can proudly say I have not gone all "Latin Rage" as C-had used to say). I get angry and a slant my eyes and I think of all the ways I could argue myself out of it. I used to be worse... It was like I was loading up my holster with brain grenades and psycho-launchers ready to do a mental battle where mind bullets were just not enough. Sometimes I even had a wit time bomb, yeah, I played it only when I knew I could level an entire argument with either shame, guilt, or just plain stupidity.
Problem was my devil shoulder angel (Rocco) was always like, "here use this" and handed me a machete or said "Good one Theen!" after I've taken another part of your humanity. I'm not proud of it, and my good angel stood there and not even bothering to say, "You're going to hell", nope. He stood there filing his nails and saying, "yeah, I can't believe I'm getting overtime for this".
Bad George - trust me, his review is going to be scathing when I get to St. Peter. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Well... that was then, I said I USED to be like that.
In the last few years, that good angel (George) has been coming at me with avengence - I watch "Hoarding" on A&E and yeah, I teared up - like a panzy-ass. Oh OH!!! And that stupid Animal abuse commercial with Sarah McLachlan singing Angel in the background... It's 1 minute of pure torture! Everytime I see that commercial I break down and tear up like someone is slowing pulling out my eyelashes or making me watch the bachelor - it's painful! STUPID George. He's so wily. He's filled me with empathy to my ears, that sometimes I feel like a pregnant woman watching a lifetime movie.
Going back to compromise - it's not that I don't know how to do it, I've got three sisters. I'm pretty good at it sometimes. When it comes to boyfriends, I just need to have certain things my way.
1. I control the TV always.
2. I eat anything I want - always
3. I win... always
See? It's SO HARD! ARGH!! And that matrimony word has like all these other words that I don't like ALL put into ONE meaning.
As defined by Theen's all knowing vocab of wonderment and wiles:
Matrimony (n.)- Commitment, compromise, FOREVER, share, split your time, divide half, group decision making. (...I think more than one is a group in this case as apparently independent decision making causes some issues as I have found out in previous relationships - like that time I decided to move to London...)
Jeez... no wonder divorce is America's new past time. Which is another word I hate more than matrimony but since I have not yet passed go on THAT score, I think I'm ok from the big D word.
That's not to say that I'm not loving. I never said that. If you thought that, check yourself. I'm a very loving person, I just like to love things on my terms.
I.e. I love that sweater on the rack, take it off, it looks like shit on you.
Just kidding - that was not really part of this discussion but kinda funny :)
I'm slowly learning, begrudgingly. I suppose that's why I date men with patience... Are you surprised I date? Seriously?
Here's another word: Sex.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Out of shape - the signs of aging
Ok, so by now you've all heard my schpeel about getting old. I'm over it. Seriously, 27 was the "omigod, I'm so old" age for me. I heard it's 30 for most, but dammit, I want to enjoy my big 3-0 birthday.
Going on, I came back to my college town home - and I was magically transformed into college brain. By that I mean, I immediately realized I was not "toned" or "tan enough". What's worse it that I feel like I could drink like I used to.
No, I can't and there is VIDEO, thank Terminator - now I REALLY can't run for office or the PTA.
And before you think I'm exaggerating. I was a cheerleader. I used to pull my leg to my face for fun... why humans do shit like that and think its cool, I have no idea - but there I was showing my crotch to 80,000 fans thinking I was awesome.
Not so much in retrospect.
Nope, still wondering why I did that.
Anyway, so to say I was in good shape is an understatement. WELL, so I was stretching to get ready for this kickass ASS and ABS class, you know, lean this way, lean that way, pull up to the sky.....
and yup, pull the right side of my abs. stretching. it hurt. The guy was all, "all right, good stretching, let's get started" and I'm all like, "I need 100 milligrams of Motrin and a heating pad STAT!!!" It unfortunate that the only person that heard me was the devil on my shoulder who laughed and said I deserved it. Bastard.
The class started and I was like, ok, I'll work through it. The girls around me were doing it, I'm not in BAD shape - I can do this.
So I spent the whole class shaking. Involuntary muscle spasms every time I had to lift my leg. oh yeah. I was shaky McShakerson like I was in an African Dance Troupe. That was until we did this on-all-fours-lift-your-leg-thing.
Then I charlied my ass. Yup, left side went down in a ball of flames. My butt is screaming "Just let it go - SAVE YOURSELF!!!!" I'm being Sly Stallone in cliffhanger, trying to hold on for dear life while my left butt cheek is contorting into a tight ball of agony. So I did what any sane person would do and completely collapsed. Screw the girls next to me, who are looking at me like I'm the midget wrestler trying to get back into the game. I HAVE PERFECT FORM.
Whatever, so thank god that class ended and I started to Zumba. It's like a latin dancing cardio class. I was like, "yeah, I'm mexican, my hips don't lie, I'm working hard for the money, Sharkira ain't got shit on this girl - try to stop me." Until we started, then *POOF* skinny white girl with no rhythm pops out.
You: WHAT?! No....! WHAT?!?
Me: Yes.
What happened? No idea. My kick ball chain was this mess skip trip turn. No reason. I just couldn't follow the teacher. I kept looking at my friend, and I could pick it up, but the teacher. Nope. And my arms were like octopus-bird flailing stroke victim. It was horrendous to watch in the mirror yet, I couldn't stop myself. It was like watching ducks chasing enemies off their land. Squaking with all their glory. You can't help but watch.
My fancy footwork went from decent to pathetic. I felt out of sorts. Luckily, Terminator's wifey (who was with me) just laughed and didn't say much. I would have attempted a walk of shame but I probably would've messed that up too.
Ah, the feelings of getting older. Well. I'm not sore too much right now, but I have a feeling, the tightness in my rear will become rockhard tomorrow to where stairs become mountains.
Whatever, I'm staying young. I'm grabbing a pillow case and sliding down the stairs instead, AND THEN grabbing a martini. :)
Going on, I came back to my college town home - and I was magically transformed into college brain. By that I mean, I immediately realized I was not "toned" or "tan enough". What's worse it that I feel like I could drink like I used to.
No, I can't and there is VIDEO, thank Terminator - now I REALLY can't run for office or the PTA.
And before you think I'm exaggerating. I was a cheerleader. I used to pull my leg to my face for fun... why humans do shit like that and think its cool, I have no idea - but there I was showing my crotch to 80,000 fans thinking I was awesome.
Not so much in retrospect.
Nope, still wondering why I did that.
Anyway, so to say I was in good shape is an understatement. WELL, so I was stretching to get ready for this kickass ASS and ABS class, you know, lean this way, lean that way, pull up to the sky.....
and yup, pull the right side of my abs. stretching. it hurt. The guy was all, "all right, good stretching, let's get started" and I'm all like, "I need 100 milligrams of Motrin and a heating pad STAT!!!" It unfortunate that the only person that heard me was the devil on my shoulder who laughed and said I deserved it. Bastard.
The class started and I was like, ok, I'll work through it. The girls around me were doing it, I'm not in BAD shape - I can do this.
So I spent the whole class shaking. Involuntary muscle spasms every time I had to lift my leg. oh yeah. I was shaky McShakerson like I was in an African Dance Troupe. That was until we did this on-all-fours-lift-your-leg-thing.
Then I charlied my ass. Yup, left side went down in a ball of flames. My butt is screaming "Just let it go - SAVE YOURSELF!!!!" I'm being Sly Stallone in cliffhanger, trying to hold on for dear life while my left butt cheek is contorting into a tight ball of agony. So I did what any sane person would do and completely collapsed. Screw the girls next to me, who are looking at me like I'm the midget wrestler trying to get back into the game. I HAVE PERFECT FORM.
Whatever, so thank god that class ended and I started to Zumba. It's like a latin dancing cardio class. I was like, "yeah, I'm mexican, my hips don't lie, I'm working hard for the money, Sharkira ain't got shit on this girl - try to stop me." Until we started, then *POOF* skinny white girl with no rhythm pops out.
You: WHAT?! No....! WHAT?!?
Me: Yes.
What happened? No idea. My kick ball chain was this mess skip trip turn. No reason. I just couldn't follow the teacher. I kept looking at my friend, and I could pick it up, but the teacher. Nope. And my arms were like octopus-bird flailing stroke victim. It was horrendous to watch in the mirror yet, I couldn't stop myself. It was like watching ducks chasing enemies off their land. Squaking with all their glory. You can't help but watch.
My fancy footwork went from decent to pathetic. I felt out of sorts. Luckily, Terminator's wifey (who was with me) just laughed and didn't say much. I would have attempted a walk of shame but I probably would've messed that up too.
Ah, the feelings of getting older. Well. I'm not sore too much right now, but I have a feeling, the tightness in my rear will become rockhard tomorrow to where stairs become mountains.
Whatever, I'm staying young. I'm grabbing a pillow case and sliding down the stairs instead, AND THEN grabbing a martini. :)
Monday, August 9, 2010
Dog Trauma
I know I promised some stories about how I traumatized Pookah but I've been traumatized today.
Ok, I know I'm a bit crazy - everyone knows. It's just well, I think of the best side of everything before I make a determination that this person/thing is the spawn of all evil and needs to be put down... usually. Well, today is Monday and when I say I haven't had one of THOSE Mondays in a while, I mean it. I don't work. Why is Monday any different than Saturday? OH BUT IT WAS.
I'm taking care of my sister's dogs. All of my sister's dogs. Yon has three dachshunds that bark when startled, excited, scared and hungry. (Really, if 2 of them were allowed, they'd be like pigs that just eat and lay in the mud all day, they LOVE food. Like, I'd say they need to go to a over eater's anonymous meeting if they'd understand it enough not to eat the chairs.)So they are barky dogs named Boo, Bebe, and Bruiser. Bebe is the smallest vicious one, and the most barky. It's kinda scary considering her eyes are like the characters of Precious moments dolls... until she attacks you - you probably think she's the cutest thing ever. Truly, in a house, they do not bother me that much - and they usually stop barking and being food gluttons after I start screaming like a mad woman so it works out.
I also have my older sister, Yelly's, beagle Rodney. The sweetest dog... except when he smells shit and zero's in on the dead squirrel in the yard. Then he's a force. His whole body becomes a nose looking for coke. So yes, I've got two over eaters - a dog psychopath and an addict. Then there is mine, which previously stated, is traumatized. She is mine, so she listens to me most of the time and sticks close to me. I get her, probably because I did the traumatizing with the millions of plane rides, car rides, people, and the lone 4th of July firecracker fiasco. HEY, she's doing fine, really, nothing a little benadryl can't fix.
just kidding... I haven't doped her since her first plane ride.
Anyway, so the three little dogs and mine go in the backyard to get their business done. They rarely run away though if it rains I have to throw them back there. (Fun fact, Pookah, my dog, is the only dog that doesn't seem to mind the rain.) WELL, Rodney is a known runner. And not like a hey-i'm-gonna-go-down-the-block, no he's a escaped-from-a-mad-house runner. I know this. KNOW it. YET, I let him in the yard without a leash - swear he's been good the last two times.
Picture this: me with five dogs - I'm in sweat pants and a black shirt and flips- and they are in the backyard...
Me: C'mon little doggies, time to go inside. Rodney - inside.
*Rodney starts coming back
Random kids in another backyard: OMIGOD DOGGIES!!
Ok, now from like 2 kids there are like 10 kids. They are swarming with their grubby hands and screeching like banshees towards the dogs. ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
Pookah starts running towards Rodney - Rodney books it, knowing it will be his one and only escape from his terrible life of eating and sleeping. The two fatties are running back and forth from the porch to the end of the yard barking at the kids like the porch has some protective barrier that will prevent children (although both my sister pray this is true - it is not.) Then Bebe, queen of cuteness and viciousness, starts after the kids.
Now, I've gotta make a choice. Chase after a dog that I KNOW is stupid enough to go into traffic after smelling the best roadkill known to beagledom, OR save the children from the dog that I'm pretty sure can rip them to shreds with her cute but remarkably sharp baby teeth. Yes, I save the children. I scream to the dogs to get in the house. The fatties book it, they know hungry when they see it, and those children and eager for dachshund haunches. Pookah, is running around in a paranoid frenzy wondering where up is. And I'm chasing after the little one before children go yelling to their parents with one arm. I get the 4 in the house but last I saw Rodney he was running far away and to the left.
Crap.
So i'm like, ok, I watch crime movies - the first hour missing is the most important. No, it is NOT the same thing but I do think it has some relevance - those FBI guys know what they are talking about.
Anyway, I start a frantic search across the neighborhood wearing the hottest thing I own in 98 degree weather. I run FAST and like I was getting the last beer at a fraternity party, can't find him.
I start going through my options:
1. Call 911, yes, my first thought, thank you Kindergarten.
2. Check all yards.
3. Get in car check roads
4. Ask anyone you see if they've seen a dog.
5. Call Witness Protection because my sister is going to kill me.
Luckily #4 panned out. There was the neighbor with Rodney. Worst 20 minutes ever, maybe longer - I have no idea - my brain can't handle the concept of time.
I thank said neighbor, but now I'm emotionally drained. I'm starving, and useless while ALL the dogs are coming down from this adrenalin rush that I've completely missed out on. I try to get my day on a roll... nope. Roll is gone.
Yeah, so that evil comment I was talking about earlier. Oh no, I don't blame Rod - it's those DAMN kids with their hands of pain and panic....
Instead, I'm going to watch serial killer movies to make me feel better about my life.
Don't judge me.
Ok, I know I'm a bit crazy - everyone knows. It's just well, I think of the best side of everything before I make a determination that this person/thing is the spawn of all evil and needs to be put down... usually. Well, today is Monday and when I say I haven't had one of THOSE Mondays in a while, I mean it. I don't work. Why is Monday any different than Saturday? OH BUT IT WAS.
I'm taking care of my sister's dogs. All of my sister's dogs. Yon has three dachshunds that bark when startled, excited, scared and hungry. (Really, if 2 of them were allowed, they'd be like pigs that just eat and lay in the mud all day, they LOVE food. Like, I'd say they need to go to a over eater's anonymous meeting if they'd understand it enough not to eat the chairs.)So they are barky dogs named Boo, Bebe, and Bruiser. Bebe is the smallest vicious one, and the most barky. It's kinda scary considering her eyes are like the characters of Precious moments dolls... until she attacks you - you probably think she's the cutest thing ever. Truly, in a house, they do not bother me that much - and they usually stop barking and being food gluttons after I start screaming like a mad woman so it works out.
I also have my older sister, Yelly's, beagle Rodney. The sweetest dog... except when he smells shit and zero's in on the dead squirrel in the yard. Then he's a force. His whole body becomes a nose looking for coke. So yes, I've got two over eaters - a dog psychopath and an addict. Then there is mine, which previously stated, is traumatized. She is mine, so she listens to me most of the time and sticks close to me. I get her, probably because I did the traumatizing with the millions of plane rides, car rides, people, and the lone 4th of July firecracker fiasco. HEY, she's doing fine, really, nothing a little benadryl can't fix.
just kidding... I haven't doped her since her first plane ride.
Anyway, so the three little dogs and mine go in the backyard to get their business done. They rarely run away though if it rains I have to throw them back there. (Fun fact, Pookah, my dog, is the only dog that doesn't seem to mind the rain.) WELL, Rodney is a known runner. And not like a hey-i'm-gonna-go-down-the-block, no he's a escaped-from-a-mad-house runner. I know this. KNOW it. YET, I let him in the yard without a leash - swear he's been good the last two times.
Picture this: me with five dogs - I'm in sweat pants and a black shirt and flips- and they are in the backyard...
Me: C'mon little doggies, time to go inside. Rodney - inside.
*Rodney starts coming back
Random kids in another backyard: OMIGOD DOGGIES!!
Ok, now from like 2 kids there are like 10 kids. They are swarming with their grubby hands and screeching like banshees towards the dogs. ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.
Pookah starts running towards Rodney - Rodney books it, knowing it will be his one and only escape from his terrible life of eating and sleeping. The two fatties are running back and forth from the porch to the end of the yard barking at the kids like the porch has some protective barrier that will prevent children (although both my sister pray this is true - it is not.) Then Bebe, queen of cuteness and viciousness, starts after the kids.
Now, I've gotta make a choice. Chase after a dog that I KNOW is stupid enough to go into traffic after smelling the best roadkill known to beagledom, OR save the children from the dog that I'm pretty sure can rip them to shreds with her cute but remarkably sharp baby teeth. Yes, I save the children. I scream to the dogs to get in the house. The fatties book it, they know hungry when they see it, and those children and eager for dachshund haunches. Pookah, is running around in a paranoid frenzy wondering where up is. And I'm chasing after the little one before children go yelling to their parents with one arm. I get the 4 in the house but last I saw Rodney he was running far away and to the left.
Crap.
So i'm like, ok, I watch crime movies - the first hour missing is the most important. No, it is NOT the same thing but I do think it has some relevance - those FBI guys know what they are talking about.
Anyway, I start a frantic search across the neighborhood wearing the hottest thing I own in 98 degree weather. I run FAST and like I was getting the last beer at a fraternity party, can't find him.
I start going through my options:
1. Call 911, yes, my first thought, thank you Kindergarten.
2. Check all yards.
3. Get in car check roads
4. Ask anyone you see if they've seen a dog.
5. Call Witness Protection because my sister is going to kill me.
Luckily #4 panned out. There was the neighbor with Rodney. Worst 20 minutes ever, maybe longer - I have no idea - my brain can't handle the concept of time.
I thank said neighbor, but now I'm emotionally drained. I'm starving, and useless while ALL the dogs are coming down from this adrenalin rush that I've completely missed out on. I try to get my day on a roll... nope. Roll is gone.
Yeah, so that evil comment I was talking about earlier. Oh no, I don't blame Rod - it's those DAMN kids with their hands of pain and panic....
Instead, I'm going to watch serial killer movies to make me feel better about my life.
Don't judge me.
Monday, July 19, 2010
You are supposed to work out at a gym, right?
Apparently, not always is the right answer.
I walked into the gym today with my capri workout pants and a t-shirt. I do feel that majorly short shorts are not in my workout routine anymore, mainly because I use machines more and your ass sticking to the seat sucks.
ANYWAY, I walk in with my soon-to-be-nemisis. Why? She's like 40-50 years old, truly, I can't tell. She wears hot pink (always) with make-up with her hair down and goes straight to the eliptical machine. Since I've been gone I didn't know but apparently hot pink is THE color to wear at the gym for older ladies. Seriously. All old ladies wear pink, obnoxious pink. Fun FACT: teenagers wear black (they must continue to show rebellion while conforming to gym standards) and normal work-out chicks wear clothes that look like they've been doing this for awhile, by that I mean they look like they are there to rock and roll not pose for playboy. Going on to my lady in pink, I think she probably is nice. She smiles ALL the time, at other people, at herself in the mirror. But I find myself studying her in between my reps because she seriously poses while walking on the eliptical and checks herself out. She is WALKING on it for like 40 min AND not sweating. AT ALL. Mayhaps she feels it would wreck her hair. The more I look at her, the more I just don't like her species procreating. I mean, she's the modern version of Narcissus. Ok, she might have a reason to walk for 40 min, maybe she has a limp, and maybe it's the only exercise she can do for right now, but Picture this, she DROPS her right shoulder and puffs out her chest and swings her hair EVERYTIME she looks in the mirror. It is FREAKING unnecessary. We all laugh at you and wonder why you waste your money on a gym membership when you should just get yourself a webcam and video tape yourself watching tv.
Another thing I don't understand, while it doesn't completely annoy me, I just feel bad for these women (and maybe some men) who waste their time. I watched a girl and her mother walk in, she might have been 17... mom was about 40 but looked WAY older and both slightly overweight. Good for them coming into the gym with each other for support. Wait, they did one revolution on some machines (ONE- one exercise each) and walked for 10 minutes and left. (Insult to injury they took one of my machines WHILE I was doing my intervals so I had to switch up... it's ok, I survived.) They were doing weights that were less than mine (yes, I'm buff but I'm also little) and did not even break a sweat either. I wanted to go over and say, NO use the 10 lb weight so you'll at least build more muscle and burn more calories if you are going to only do this once.... and the poor 17 year old was afraid to be by a machine by herself. I TOTALLY understand that. If you don't know what the hell the machine does, you are pretty sure it will eat you and spit out your bones. But her mom wasn't helping and I wanted to take pity on her and show her how but she never left her mom's side... it was kind of a "are-you-my-mother?" moment.
I'm not knocking people for going to the gym, that in itself is hard, i get it. I HATE going myself but I love my abs. I'm also at an age where I'm spending money going to this place I might as well take advantage.... but I mean, if you are going to get dressed, grab all your shit, drive there, and get on a freaking treadmill... go for sweating like a pig.
NO you will not get hit on there (most likely if you look like me at the gym "NOT NOW CHIEF, I'M IN THE FUCKING ZONE"), but you will look good in your jeans next time you go out and hell, put some sour cream on your taco and don't feel bad about it.
Oh and for those ladies who go soley to look at the guys working out, be aware:
1) If they have rocking hard bodies, they go there ALOT AND if they date you, they will still go there WITHOUT you. Meaning, expect gym time to be permanent.
2) If they are serious about working out, they look like shit too.
3) He might be gay. Just sayin.
4) You might get hit on, but probably not if you are acting like those people above, the guys will make fun of you too.
I walked into the gym today with my capri workout pants and a t-shirt. I do feel that majorly short shorts are not in my workout routine anymore, mainly because I use machines more and your ass sticking to the seat sucks.
ANYWAY, I walk in with my soon-to-be-nemisis. Why? She's like 40-50 years old, truly, I can't tell. She wears hot pink (always) with make-up with her hair down and goes straight to the eliptical machine. Since I've been gone I didn't know but apparently hot pink is THE color to wear at the gym for older ladies. Seriously. All old ladies wear pink, obnoxious pink. Fun FACT: teenagers wear black (they must continue to show rebellion while conforming to gym standards) and normal work-out chicks wear clothes that look like they've been doing this for awhile, by that I mean they look like they are there to rock and roll not pose for playboy. Going on to my lady in pink, I think she probably is nice. She smiles ALL the time, at other people, at herself in the mirror. But I find myself studying her in between my reps because she seriously poses while walking on the eliptical and checks herself out. She is WALKING on it for like 40 min AND not sweating. AT ALL. Mayhaps she feels it would wreck her hair. The more I look at her, the more I just don't like her species procreating. I mean, she's the modern version of Narcissus. Ok, she might have a reason to walk for 40 min, maybe she has a limp, and maybe it's the only exercise she can do for right now, but Picture this, she DROPS her right shoulder and puffs out her chest and swings her hair EVERYTIME she looks in the mirror. It is FREAKING unnecessary. We all laugh at you and wonder why you waste your money on a gym membership when you should just get yourself a webcam and video tape yourself watching tv.
Another thing I don't understand, while it doesn't completely annoy me, I just feel bad for these women (and maybe some men) who waste their time. I watched a girl and her mother walk in, she might have been 17... mom was about 40 but looked WAY older and both slightly overweight. Good for them coming into the gym with each other for support. Wait, they did one revolution on some machines (ONE- one exercise each) and walked for 10 minutes and left. (Insult to injury they took one of my machines WHILE I was doing my intervals so I had to switch up... it's ok, I survived.) They were doing weights that were less than mine (yes, I'm buff but I'm also little) and did not even break a sweat either. I wanted to go over and say, NO use the 10 lb weight so you'll at least build more muscle and burn more calories if you are going to only do this once.... and the poor 17 year old was afraid to be by a machine by herself. I TOTALLY understand that. If you don't know what the hell the machine does, you are pretty sure it will eat you and spit out your bones. But her mom wasn't helping and I wanted to take pity on her and show her how but she never left her mom's side... it was kind of a "are-you-my-mother?" moment.
I'm not knocking people for going to the gym, that in itself is hard, i get it. I HATE going myself but I love my abs. I'm also at an age where I'm spending money going to this place I might as well take advantage.... but I mean, if you are going to get dressed, grab all your shit, drive there, and get on a freaking treadmill... go for sweating like a pig.
NO you will not get hit on there (most likely if you look like me at the gym "NOT NOW CHIEF, I'M IN THE FUCKING ZONE"), but you will look good in your jeans next time you go out and hell, put some sour cream on your taco and don't feel bad about it.
Oh and for those ladies who go soley to look at the guys working out, be aware:
1) If they have rocking hard bodies, they go there ALOT AND if they date you, they will still go there WITHOUT you. Meaning, expect gym time to be permanent.
2) If they are serious about working out, they look like shit too.
3) He might be gay. Just sayin.
4) You might get hit on, but probably not if you are acting like those people above, the guys will make fun of you too.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I love America, the beginning
When I say "I love America" I mean it. Many of us don't realize what make us awesome, but I'm going to tell you because I don't think you are aware of the awesomeness that is us.
1) Supermarkets - I walked into Target and said, "I fucking love America". One - it's huge AND the aisles make sense. The make-up is next to other inedible things AND I have more than one choice of lipstick. I don't have to go to a separate store. Trust me, it's awesome to have a one stop shop. Oh, PLEASE don't let me forget to talk about all the different choices you have. I will admit, it's a bit annoying to me right now, because I seriously don't know if I want Fiber one, Fiber plus, fiber plus with berries, fiber plus with berries and yogurt, or cheerios. It's a lot to take in. I seriously stared at the dog food for like 5 minutes deciding which food my DOG would like best and have the best deals.... she's a dog, some of them eat poop and I'm wondering if she needs more omega three or more protein... But, trust me, in other countries, you are lucky if they have a cereal you want to eat, and yes milk tastes different everywhere - it affects the taste of the cereal. Ass cereal, NOT GOOD.
2) Random stuff - I looked around the store and it's amazingness and realized Americans don't notice weird stuff anymore. Case in point, why would anyone need neon pink duct tape. I was like, "As an American, I'm glad I have that choice" but no one else around me seemed to notice or think that me staring at it was weird. You guys, you have no idea what it feels like to need something as simple as cream cheese and NOT be able to find it but show up in America and they have 50 million types (the garden is especially good). I could find envelopes or regular light bulbs (which in Prague were by the cars...?) and now I can find them with cool colors and "eco-friendly" messages. I feel unique AND save the world.
3) Plastic bags. Yeah, the rest of the world has already gone green. Imagine you are in Walmart buying a month worth of groceries and they don't give you plastic bags unless you pay for them... crazy, but it forces you to think about bringing bags and what you are going to buy.... seriously. I missed having plastic bags for poop, for random lunch trips, for leftovers, for reasons I can't fathom - there is a security with having 40,000 plastic bags in your house. Yeah, I got annoyed when I couldn't find them in my old house - to the point, I almost broke down in a plastic bag fury... it was scary, thank god my mom was rational and threw a backpack at me.
4) Fast food. Yes, America we are fat, and I know why. It's SOOOO easy. I freakin LOVE being able to drive 5 min any direction and pay 3 dollars for 500 + calories. Of course, our sizes are much bigger too which makes me happy because I'm like, for $3 I get ALL OF THIS?!?! Yeah, so what if I can eat my entire day's caloric intake in one meal - I NEVER have to eat again. Of course, as Americans, THAT option isn't really an option. I mean, we still do the whole 3 meals a day thing. I can say that I used to cook more for myself in Prague, AND more healthy, but really? who wants that? For a single person, really, eating fast food and cooking isn't much of a comparison, i mean, it's no fun cooking for yourself. (well, considering I prefer never to cook, it's more of a true statement, but having someone else EAT it with you makes you feel better - they're willing to die too).
5) Finally, but not the last thing, because this may become a small series as I get better acquainted with america again, the radio. I've only been here two weeks and already I know lyrics to songs that I didn't even know existed till I got here. They play everything a million times, just to make sure I know it's a popular song - BUT there are like 100s of stations that i can change to if I don't want to listen to that particular song at that time. It's odd, they play songs continuously but they also have stations who play songs that most people haven't heard in years... I heard "kiss from a rose" by Seal and was STOKED! It's like when I play old school on my ipod, I get super excited because really, they were good songs, they just aren't popular anymore. Well, they are popular in my heart.
Ok, I'll stop babbling now. Next, week (or tomorrow) will be Pookah: trauma in the dog world.
....great white buffalo.... (hot tub time machine)
1) Supermarkets - I walked into Target and said, "I fucking love America". One - it's huge AND the aisles make sense. The make-up is next to other inedible things AND I have more than one choice of lipstick. I don't have to go to a separate store. Trust me, it's awesome to have a one stop shop. Oh, PLEASE don't let me forget to talk about all the different choices you have. I will admit, it's a bit annoying to me right now, because I seriously don't know if I want Fiber one, Fiber plus, fiber plus with berries, fiber plus with berries and yogurt, or cheerios. It's a lot to take in. I seriously stared at the dog food for like 5 minutes deciding which food my DOG would like best and have the best deals.... she's a dog, some of them eat poop and I'm wondering if she needs more omega three or more protein... But, trust me, in other countries, you are lucky if they have a cereal you want to eat, and yes milk tastes different everywhere - it affects the taste of the cereal. Ass cereal, NOT GOOD.
2) Random stuff - I looked around the store and it's amazingness and realized Americans don't notice weird stuff anymore. Case in point, why would anyone need neon pink duct tape. I was like, "As an American, I'm glad I have that choice" but no one else around me seemed to notice or think that me staring at it was weird. You guys, you have no idea what it feels like to need something as simple as cream cheese and NOT be able to find it but show up in America and they have 50 million types (the garden is especially good). I could find envelopes or regular light bulbs (which in Prague were by the cars...?) and now I can find them with cool colors and "eco-friendly" messages. I feel unique AND save the world.
3) Plastic bags. Yeah, the rest of the world has already gone green. Imagine you are in Walmart buying a month worth of groceries and they don't give you plastic bags unless you pay for them... crazy, but it forces you to think about bringing bags and what you are going to buy.... seriously. I missed having plastic bags for poop, for random lunch trips, for leftovers, for reasons I can't fathom - there is a security with having 40,000 plastic bags in your house. Yeah, I got annoyed when I couldn't find them in my old house - to the point, I almost broke down in a plastic bag fury... it was scary, thank god my mom was rational and threw a backpack at me.
4) Fast food. Yes, America we are fat, and I know why. It's SOOOO easy. I freakin LOVE being able to drive 5 min any direction and pay 3 dollars for 500 + calories. Of course, our sizes are much bigger too which makes me happy because I'm like, for $3 I get ALL OF THIS?!?! Yeah, so what if I can eat my entire day's caloric intake in one meal - I NEVER have to eat again. Of course, as Americans, THAT option isn't really an option. I mean, we still do the whole 3 meals a day thing. I can say that I used to cook more for myself in Prague, AND more healthy, but really? who wants that? For a single person, really, eating fast food and cooking isn't much of a comparison, i mean, it's no fun cooking for yourself. (well, considering I prefer never to cook, it's more of a true statement, but having someone else EAT it with you makes you feel better - they're willing to die too).
5) Finally, but not the last thing, because this may become a small series as I get better acquainted with america again, the radio. I've only been here two weeks and already I know lyrics to songs that I didn't even know existed till I got here. They play everything a million times, just to make sure I know it's a popular song - BUT there are like 100s of stations that i can change to if I don't want to listen to that particular song at that time. It's odd, they play songs continuously but they also have stations who play songs that most people haven't heard in years... I heard "kiss from a rose" by Seal and was STOKED! It's like when I play old school on my ipod, I get super excited because really, they were good songs, they just aren't popular anymore. Well, they are popular in my heart.
Ok, I'll stop babbling now. Next, week (or tomorrow) will be Pookah: trauma in the dog world.
....great white buffalo.... (hot tub time machine)
Thursday, June 17, 2010
My relationship with our OLD dog
Ok, before I start with this rant, I need you to know a few things about Dog.
First, his name really is Dog, yeah, sometimes we call him Max, but for the first few years he was with us his names were: Lucky, Thumper, Dog, Pestilence, Max.... the list goes on. Nothing really stuck. Well, now we just call him Old Man. Trust me, its the only name that really fit. He's like 14 years old (98 in dog years).
Second, he's a bit ornery on occasion like, when I don't have food, when I'm not my mom, when I tell him to come inside... when he farts and leaves the room. Yeah, seriously, he does that and THEY STINK BAD.
With all of those things, you gotta love him. He still acts like a puppy when you take him out... he jumps totally defying gravity considering he's half cow. You have to laugh at him when you ask him to do something and he looks at you like YOU are crazy... I swear, he has no idea that he's a dog. He even fights with my little sister for affection when my mom is in the room then gives her the evil eye when she wins.
Getting to my point: Old Man has been sleeping in my room. Yes, his farts do stink but thankfully he doesn't do them as much because he can't leave the room either. He'll jump on my bed so that I can pet him (which I swear I'm afraid he's going to break something everytime he does it). Well, one evening I was petting his massively protruding belly. (so what if we feed him too much? he's old and deserves to live his life in a fatty bliss!) I notice that he has this bump... I'm like, how have I not noticed that? I touch it and it doesn't seem to hurt him, but it looks like a hernia. One of my previous puppies had one and it was in the same place.
I, of course, do what any sane person would do, I told my mom. She's worried and now i'm worried... he hasn't shown any symptoms and I remember my dad's hernia hurting him so I'm a bit worried about taking him to the vet. It's like a mile, maybe two walk. Well, if you know my dog, he LOVES to pee on everything that will prove he is still a male as virile as ever. I'm a little freaked out because I want to take him in but my mom needs to work and really, I should be able to get him there, even if we walk slowly. My mom and me agree that he hasn't been acting out of the ordinary... then bam! OMIGOD he could have cancer. WHAT? He can't have cancer! He's my dog! he's a survivor- THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS!!! (star trek reference). I'm like trying not to freak out and start thinking - it HAS to be a hernia, he's fat and does shit no fat dog should do.
So I walk the poor dear and he starts running. Ok, last time I walked him, he practically collapsed in the neighbor's yard from heat exhaustion and I felt guilty about that. NOW i'm FREAKING out that he's going to pull something and hurt himself even more. Seriously, how fast can a fat dog run...? wow, jiggly fast. I'm like, I should let him run, he could be dying... seriously, he's 98, fat and might have cancer, if I could give him balls back I would so he could live it up.
I finally get him to the vets office and go to show her the hernia/cancer. I put him on the table and the little fucker won't show her his belly. She finally sees it but he is fighting for all he's worth (which considering my size, and his size... he's got a chance). Well, we call the other the lady in and we have to PIN him to the table. I look at his poor face and his eyes are so wide that it's like he's about to get hit by a car. My heart is in my throat.
The vet starts looking at it and then pushes it and touches it... you know in that doctor way... "hmmm.... it jiggles this way, it jiggles that way... it's still connected and under the skin... maybe if I pinch it, it'll just pop..."
And she goes, "ok, you can let him go" and I'm like "ok, doc, give it to me - i'm almost 28 I can handle it... just hand me a tissue." I'm expecting at least a surgery: hernia, exploratory, death.
Doc: "Max is fat"
(silence)
Me: "Yeah, I know, what is that thing?"
Doc: "It's fat. It's a fat ball, they get kinda hard sometimes..."
Me: "It's not a hernia, or cancer?"
Doc starts laughing: "Ummm... no, it's just fat."
Well, great.
I was preparing myself ALL day. Trying to figure out how to break it to my mom, my dad, my sisters... how I was going to feed him chocolate, make some ribs JUST for him. I was going to give him a beer or the good whiskey so he could see what it felt like to be a real man...
nope. he's not dying. He's just a farty, fatty cow.
First, his name really is Dog, yeah, sometimes we call him Max, but for the first few years he was with us his names were: Lucky, Thumper, Dog, Pestilence, Max.... the list goes on. Nothing really stuck. Well, now we just call him Old Man. Trust me, its the only name that really fit. He's like 14 years old (98 in dog years).
Second, he's a bit ornery on occasion like, when I don't have food, when I'm not my mom, when I tell him to come inside... when he farts and leaves the room. Yeah, seriously, he does that and THEY STINK BAD.
With all of those things, you gotta love him. He still acts like a puppy when you take him out... he jumps totally defying gravity considering he's half cow. You have to laugh at him when you ask him to do something and he looks at you like YOU are crazy... I swear, he has no idea that he's a dog. He even fights with my little sister for affection when my mom is in the room then gives her the evil eye when she wins.
Getting to my point: Old Man has been sleeping in my room. Yes, his farts do stink but thankfully he doesn't do them as much because he can't leave the room either. He'll jump on my bed so that I can pet him (which I swear I'm afraid he's going to break something everytime he does it). Well, one evening I was petting his massively protruding belly. (so what if we feed him too much? he's old and deserves to live his life in a fatty bliss!) I notice that he has this bump... I'm like, how have I not noticed that? I touch it and it doesn't seem to hurt him, but it looks like a hernia. One of my previous puppies had one and it was in the same place.
I, of course, do what any sane person would do, I told my mom. She's worried and now i'm worried... he hasn't shown any symptoms and I remember my dad's hernia hurting him so I'm a bit worried about taking him to the vet. It's like a mile, maybe two walk. Well, if you know my dog, he LOVES to pee on everything that will prove he is still a male as virile as ever. I'm a little freaked out because I want to take him in but my mom needs to work and really, I should be able to get him there, even if we walk slowly. My mom and me agree that he hasn't been acting out of the ordinary... then bam! OMIGOD he could have cancer. WHAT? He can't have cancer! He's my dog! he's a survivor- THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS!!! (star trek reference). I'm like trying not to freak out and start thinking - it HAS to be a hernia, he's fat and does shit no fat dog should do.
So I walk the poor dear and he starts running. Ok, last time I walked him, he practically collapsed in the neighbor's yard from heat exhaustion and I felt guilty about that. NOW i'm FREAKING out that he's going to pull something and hurt himself even more. Seriously, how fast can a fat dog run...? wow, jiggly fast. I'm like, I should let him run, he could be dying... seriously, he's 98, fat and might have cancer, if I could give him balls back I would so he could live it up.
I finally get him to the vets office and go to show her the hernia/cancer. I put him on the table and the little fucker won't show her his belly. She finally sees it but he is fighting for all he's worth (which considering my size, and his size... he's got a chance). Well, we call the other the lady in and we have to PIN him to the table. I look at his poor face and his eyes are so wide that it's like he's about to get hit by a car. My heart is in my throat.
The vet starts looking at it and then pushes it and touches it... you know in that doctor way... "hmmm.... it jiggles this way, it jiggles that way... it's still connected and under the skin... maybe if I pinch it, it'll just pop..."
And she goes, "ok, you can let him go" and I'm like "ok, doc, give it to me - i'm almost 28 I can handle it... just hand me a tissue." I'm expecting at least a surgery: hernia, exploratory, death.
Doc: "Max is fat"
(silence)
Me: "Yeah, I know, what is that thing?"
Doc: "It's fat. It's a fat ball, they get kinda hard sometimes..."
Me: "It's not a hernia, or cancer?"
Doc starts laughing: "Ummm... no, it's just fat."
Well, great.
I was preparing myself ALL day. Trying to figure out how to break it to my mom, my dad, my sisters... how I was going to feed him chocolate, make some ribs JUST for him. I was going to give him a beer or the good whiskey so he could see what it felt like to be a real man...
nope. he's not dying. He's just a farty, fatty cow.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Why being a girl is hard
I'm sick and tired of the battle of the sexes and how guys are like, girls get it easy... etc. The reason I was thinking about this is because I was waxing. Yes, Hair on girls is apparently disgusting... Why do I do it? Because I'm used to it. Because I fall into the social norms of what is pretty. I will say though, I'll wax any guys hoo-hoo and that'll be enough for you to just get over the battle of the sexes. Trust me. It's not because you have more hair that it's painful. In fact, the skin gets numb after awhile. In case you are wondering how painful it can be, check out 40 year old virgin when all he did was his nipple.
I'll start with the few things that guys say girls get away with:
1) Speeding tickets - I will have to say this one is true because of the one time I got away with it. However, this will be null and void later. And no I did NOT cry...
Picture this: I'm driving along in Speedy (which for those of you that remember, my 1981 green volvo, yes older than me) and the tail lights are out. I had NO idea. Cop behind me. There goes the sirens... freakin great. Cop pulls up and my registration - NO JOKE - two years out of date. How did that happen? It was my dad's car, and he LEFT the country... I do end up crying to my dad who honestly made me feel worse.... not in front of the cops though.
Copper: License and registration please.
Me: Here...
Copper: This is like two years out of date...
Me: WHAT?! Are you serious? Are you freakin serious?!? This is my DAD's car, he lives in Romania - he didn't update the registration?!?! Omigod...
Copper: Yeah... I'll be right back. (Copper goes back to talk to his buddy - something is up I can tell. Copper returns.)
Copper: Is this you?
Me: Yes.
Copper: Umm... are you really 4'8''?
Me: Yeah, really.
Copper: Wow...
ME: Would you like me to step out of the car officer?
Copper: Really?! If you wouldn't mind....
I step out of the car, do a little turn. Copper turns to his buddy and points at me, and the buddy starts laughing. I'm thinking, "I'm getting a ticket and being made fun of, this tops one of the best days ever...."
Copper: Wow, thanks. Ummm... I'm going to let you off easy. I'm just going to say this was a non-traffic violation but we've got to leave first k?
Me: really? yeah, ok.
This has nothing to do with me being female and everything to do with my carnie height.
2) Ladies night. Really guys. Let's be honest. In the whole animal kingdom, the guys are supposed to be impressing us. This at least gives us free drinks, while you strut your stuff. You don't have to BUY us drinks. We still have to wear high heels, make-up and shave. You don't even have to shave.
3) Paid maternity leave - I will kill anyone who says we don't deserve this... Stretch your special parts to the point they rip and an alien comes out.... you'd need some time too.
4) Girls get laid easier. Ummm, yeah. Because if something should happen, we are going to have 9 months to regret it and a child that looks like YOU. You had better look good. If I have to primp... yeah YOU had better too.
If you want, I'll wax your nipple for free. :)
I'll start with the few things that guys say girls get away with:
1) Speeding tickets - I will have to say this one is true because of the one time I got away with it. However, this will be null and void later. And no I did NOT cry...
Picture this: I'm driving along in Speedy (which for those of you that remember, my 1981 green volvo, yes older than me) and the tail lights are out. I had NO idea. Cop behind me. There goes the sirens... freakin great. Cop pulls up and my registration - NO JOKE - two years out of date. How did that happen? It was my dad's car, and he LEFT the country... I do end up crying to my dad who honestly made me feel worse.... not in front of the cops though.
Copper: License and registration please.
Me: Here...
Copper: This is like two years out of date...
Me: WHAT?! Are you serious? Are you freakin serious?!? This is my DAD's car, he lives in Romania - he didn't update the registration?!?! Omigod...
Copper: Yeah... I'll be right back. (Copper goes back to talk to his buddy - something is up I can tell. Copper returns.)
Copper: Is this you?
Me: Yes.
Copper: Umm... are you really 4'8''?
Me: Yeah, really.
Copper: Wow...
ME: Would you like me to step out of the car officer?
Copper: Really?! If you wouldn't mind....
I step out of the car, do a little turn. Copper turns to his buddy and points at me, and the buddy starts laughing. I'm thinking, "I'm getting a ticket and being made fun of, this tops one of the best days ever...."
Copper: Wow, thanks. Ummm... I'm going to let you off easy. I'm just going to say this was a non-traffic violation but we've got to leave first k?
Me: really? yeah, ok.
This has nothing to do with me being female and everything to do with my carnie height.
2) Ladies night. Really guys. Let's be honest. In the whole animal kingdom, the guys are supposed to be impressing us. This at least gives us free drinks, while you strut your stuff. You don't have to BUY us drinks. We still have to wear high heels, make-up and shave. You don't even have to shave.
3) Paid maternity leave - I will kill anyone who says we don't deserve this... Stretch your special parts to the point they rip and an alien comes out.... you'd need some time too.
4) Girls get laid easier. Ummm, yeah. Because if something should happen, we are going to have 9 months to regret it and a child that looks like YOU. You had better look good. If I have to primp... yeah YOU had better too.
If you want, I'll wax your nipple for free. :)
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I'm inappropriate
Nothing particular happened today. I was just reflecting on my life... and well, I think I'm managing to alienate people here more so than normal. I forget that sometimes I just say things that are well, not normal.
I'm open. I can talk about depression, sex and serial killers without batting an eye. Hell, I talk about my period and guys FREAK out. What? I know you have morning wood... you know I bleed (ok, menses), what the hell is the difference if we talk about it? The problem is not that I can, but on occasion, I do. Those are some topics, but really, I think its my reactions that get me in trouble MOST of the time. I mean, honesty is supposed to be the best policy.... Seriously. I'm not scared.
OK, remember Karaoke night with Dev (refer to that blog if you don't), I had a good time. I asked Dev if we could go earlier and he said yeah, so we were heading out. Well the strangers I made friends with at the bar, were like, "WHAT? You're going home! Why are you going home so early? That's so gay."
ME: "I'm going home to have sex with my boyfriend." Yup, I said it - try me.
Guy: "TMI!!! Omigod, TMI!" (too much info)
Me: "Then why did you ask and then give me shit if you didn't want me to tell you?" You're lame not me.
or that time (in the previous blog again) that the 6 yr old kid asked me about if the dog carrier would protect the dog if the airplane crashed, and I practically said no, we'd all die.
Or the time that I was teaching pre-school, and a 2 yr old little girl noticed her "jewel" if you will:
Thumblina: what is that?
Me: That's where you go pee.
Thumblina: NO! What is that? (now pointed to her vagina)
*well, my mom never used fun little words, she always said it was better to say the anatomically correct way
Me: "That's your vagina"
Thumblina: oh, ok.
Now, I had to tell my supervisor just in case I have expanded this little girl's vocabulary a bit much. And she said, "why didn't you just say private parts?!?!?"
oh. Yeah. That would've worked too.
Now, I get sometimes that I'm inappropriate in my advice even if I don't know someone. Seriously, I mean I can't tell you how often I say, "no glove, no love" to people I have met that night at a bar. (NOT for me, for OTHERS). I figure even if it works one time, the guy or girl might think, "wow, that short girl just kept me from getting Herpes." and YES I did save you from getting swollen blisters on your hoo-hoos.
Hell, I even get the nickname Debbie Downer on occasion. When someone (USED to anyway) asks, "what do you do for a living?" I said, "I work in an outpatient mental health facility." "Wow, so you deal with some crazy people, huh?" "no, not really.... I mean I've only had to call the cops a few times, and only once did someone threaten me with bodily harm..."
Or the worst thing ever is when someone is joking and I come up with a fun fact that well is NOT fun. Imagine this guy just sitting there waiting for his girlfriend at a bar. Having a nice little drink and me sitting there next to him-
Guy: "Man, sometimes I could just kill my girlfriend"
Me: "50% of men in jail who killed women, killed their partners, and 2/3 of women fatally shot were by their, you guessed it, partners" Yeah, he was really going to guess...
Now uncomfortable Guy: "yeah, I gotta go"
I don't mean to do it.
Or the biggest thing is that I'll tell stories about me (you know the kind... so there I was...), in front of GOD FORBID my mother. Dude, she thinks I'm funny. Who cares if I'm telling a story of the first time I saw an anal plug the size of a can of coke? Or when I thought I had breast cancer when I finally started growing boobs... or how I explained "69" to my mom.... yeah, people I did that. Because I love my mother, and to keep up with jokes, she needs to know these things.
Seriously, I told the "shit-girl story" at Miller's Ale house to a bunch of House Representatives... with hand motions and running...
All I'm saying is, when did honesty and important facts become impolite? I mean, I LIKE to hear about things that make some people uncomfortable. I'm serious when I want to hear about your ex-girlfriend, or that time you shit your pants in third grade... I like hearing about the crap that went on in your life to make you YOU. We all have these stories...
(yeah, I used to be able to fart on cue - NOT kidding. And they stunk, but one time, I was a little sick and Yell came home and wanted me to do it, she was always seeing if she could catch me once NOT being able to do it, and I almost shit my pants... that's the end of the fart story and me "trying" to fart on cue. Ask Yell, she'll tell you I could.)
See? it's funny. Disgusting - but doesn't it just make you see a little bit more about me. :)
I'm open. I can talk about depression, sex and serial killers without batting an eye. Hell, I talk about my period and guys FREAK out. What? I know you have morning wood... you know I bleed (ok, menses), what the hell is the difference if we talk about it? The problem is not that I can, but on occasion, I do. Those are some topics, but really, I think its my reactions that get me in trouble MOST of the time. I mean, honesty is supposed to be the best policy.... Seriously. I'm not scared.
OK, remember Karaoke night with Dev (refer to that blog if you don't), I had a good time. I asked Dev if we could go earlier and he said yeah, so we were heading out. Well the strangers I made friends with at the bar, were like, "WHAT? You're going home! Why are you going home so early? That's so gay."
ME: "I'm going home to have sex with my boyfriend." Yup, I said it - try me.
Guy: "TMI!!! Omigod, TMI!" (too much info)
Me: "Then why did you ask and then give me shit if you didn't want me to tell you?" You're lame not me.
or that time (in the previous blog again) that the 6 yr old kid asked me about if the dog carrier would protect the dog if the airplane crashed, and I practically said no, we'd all die.
Or the time that I was teaching pre-school, and a 2 yr old little girl noticed her "jewel" if you will:
Thumblina: what is that?
Me: That's where you go pee.
Thumblina: NO! What is that? (now pointed to her vagina)
*well, my mom never used fun little words, she always said it was better to say the anatomically correct way
Me: "That's your vagina"
Thumblina: oh, ok.
Now, I had to tell my supervisor just in case I have expanded this little girl's vocabulary a bit much. And she said, "why didn't you just say private parts?!?!?"
oh. Yeah. That would've worked too.
Now, I get sometimes that I'm inappropriate in my advice even if I don't know someone. Seriously, I mean I can't tell you how often I say, "no glove, no love" to people I have met that night at a bar. (NOT for me, for OTHERS). I figure even if it works one time, the guy or girl might think, "wow, that short girl just kept me from getting Herpes." and YES I did save you from getting swollen blisters on your hoo-hoos.
Hell, I even get the nickname Debbie Downer on occasion. When someone (USED to anyway) asks, "what do you do for a living?" I said, "I work in an outpatient mental health facility." "Wow, so you deal with some crazy people, huh?" "no, not really.... I mean I've only had to call the cops a few times, and only once did someone threaten me with bodily harm..."
Or the worst thing ever is when someone is joking and I come up with a fun fact that well is NOT fun. Imagine this guy just sitting there waiting for his girlfriend at a bar. Having a nice little drink and me sitting there next to him-
Guy: "Man, sometimes I could just kill my girlfriend"
Me: "50% of men in jail who killed women, killed their partners, and 2/3 of women fatally shot were by their, you guessed it, partners" Yeah, he was really going to guess...
Now uncomfortable Guy: "yeah, I gotta go"
I don't mean to do it.
Or the biggest thing is that I'll tell stories about me (you know the kind... so there I was...), in front of GOD FORBID my mother. Dude, she thinks I'm funny. Who cares if I'm telling a story of the first time I saw an anal plug the size of a can of coke? Or when I thought I had breast cancer when I finally started growing boobs... or how I explained "69" to my mom.... yeah, people I did that. Because I love my mother, and to keep up with jokes, she needs to know these things.
Seriously, I told the "shit-girl story" at Miller's Ale house to a bunch of House Representatives... with hand motions and running...
All I'm saying is, when did honesty and important facts become impolite? I mean, I LIKE to hear about things that make some people uncomfortable. I'm serious when I want to hear about your ex-girlfriend, or that time you shit your pants in third grade... I like hearing about the crap that went on in your life to make you YOU. We all have these stories...
(yeah, I used to be able to fart on cue - NOT kidding. And they stunk, but one time, I was a little sick and Yell came home and wanted me to do it, she was always seeing if she could catch me once NOT being able to do it, and I almost shit my pants... that's the end of the fart story and me "trying" to fart on cue. Ask Yell, she'll tell you I could.)
See? it's funny. Disgusting - but doesn't it just make you see a little bit more about me. :)
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