The Mad Scientist

Alert the Presses! I'd do it, but I'm dead

2010-01-02T17:47:00.003-06:00

Besides, what's the point of minions if you guys are just lazing around all day eating bonbons and watching and trashy television while I do all the work? Earn your keep, already!

I am continually on a quest to feed my carnivore, er, my husband, vegetables. Seriously, I have no idea how the man does not die of scurvy, that is how hard it is to make a vegetable he will eat. There is no opening a can of whatever and heating it. He will not eat any canned vegetables that I have found till yet, unless they are carefully disguised in other foods (like those Chef Boyardee commercials where mothers are tricking their children into eating vegetables by feeding them cans of ravioli).

I can get him to eat frozen cream style corn, but lets be real here, that doesn't really count as a vegetable. I think nutritionally speaking, corn is the equivalent of ramen. There's calories and whatnot, it will keep you alive, but its generally worthless as a food item (unless its a spicy chowder or added to a relish for crunch and sweetness - neither of these is something he will eat). Also, once you add the cream and the butter and the salt...well, I feel like I might as well just feed him some fried lard and have done with it. Also, he will devour roasted red potatoes with rosemary and sea salt. Again, potatoes are not really brimming with nutrients. In fact, they aren't even really vegetables are they?

But! Last night, I had a craving for some sauteed spinach with walnuts and raisins and feta. OK, yes, my cravings are super specific. Anyway, I made some as a side with dinner. He LOVED it. He REQUESTED it for lunch today. I set a new land speed record for getting in the kitchen because he asked for a vegetable and then I died from shock. The End.

In conclusion: I have made a salad that even an anti-vegite will eat. I am a genius.

2010-01-01T23:29:00.002-06:00

My last post was a bit of a downer. And I wanted to start the new decade on a more positive note than that. So. A list of my favorite memories from the last decade:

1. Hiding from the police in a haunted hospital. Which SOUNDS awesome, but really, we were trespassing because it was supposed to be cool, the police came by because we weren't supposed to be there, we hid for about 5 minutes, they left, then we left. But it was a fun night.

2. My first Valentine's Day with Michael. There were some issues, and neither of us could drive. So we ordered a heart shaped pizza and watched 'The Jerk.'

3. Lying in the dark in a cramped dorm bed listening to Lou Reed's "Perfect Day."

4. Michael proposing. And when he did, I believe the phrase "I'm gonna buy you a diamond so big it'll make you puke" was used.

5. My first apartment.

6. Driving to Eureka Springs with Michael.

7. My best friend's first baby was born in Thailand. She had the baby completely by herself at home, and called me right after.

8. Michael was inviting people to our wedding right and left. Since we were eloping we sent out reception invitations and announcements after the fact. Some of our friends wanted to come anyway. Michael must have told 10 people the wrong date and time for our wedding.

9. I got poked in the eye TWICE at my wedding.

10. On our honeymoon, we ordered pina coladas on the beach in Cozumel. They were the size of my head, no lie.

11. When we first got to New Orleans for the wedding, we stopped at Pat O'Brien's for hurricanes. After the first one, I thought "Why does everyone make such a big deal about this? There's no alcohol in this at all!" So I ordered another one. And then I stood up to leave, tripped over the table, and don't remember how the heck we managed to get to the hotel.

12. San Antonio, New York, Zihuatanejo (best guacomole EVER), Memphis.

13. Dancing to blues in the park in Memphis. And eating the best fried chicken and mac and cheese on the planet at BB Kings.

14. One of my friends won $25,000 on Wheel of Fortune.

15. Dancing in the living room.

16. Getting the dogs.

There are more, but those are some highlights. What are your favorite memories for the last 10 years?

I Resolve

2009-12-31T01:46:00.002-06:00

I have a hole. Its a gaping, empty space that I hate. I try to fill the hole with things. When the things don't fill the hole, I start trying to spackle over it with superficial things. My resolution for the new year is to stop attempting to fill an internal hole from the outside.

I am going to continue to pay off my debt, and continue to practice living without credit cards. This year I learned a lot about the difference between need and want. I also saw that, as with my other obsessive compulsive behaviors, the best way to stop buying things I want all the time is through practice. I had to practice to be able to sleep with the closet door open, and I had to practice to learn to sleep even though the toilet needs to be cleaned or the dresser drawer isn't closed exactly right. I had to practice to stop the obsessive thoughts, some disturbingly dark and some just ridiculous. When I want something, sometimes it is a burning, almost frantic desire. But I am learning to ignore that. To remind myself that the thing I want will only be satisfactory for a short time. That delayed gratification really is better. That if I REALLY want it THAT badly, then I will still want it in a few months when I have had time to save for it, and that I will appreciate it more when I finally get it.

The really ridiculous part? Is that my OCD drives a lot of purchases. Then it drives a lot of donations of the SAME purchases because I cannot stand clutter, or for my closet to be stuffed full. Over the past year I have been working on stopping this cycle. I want to completely break that cycle this year.

Do you have any resolutions?

Have I Shown You My Crazy Lately?

2009-12-28T09:55:00.003-06:00

Its the time of year when I've put back on some of the weight that I worked so hard to lose, and I have to start thinking about losing what I put on. You might think that would be easy, just do whatever I did before that let me lose the weight. And that is true. If you are not completely insane. The thing that worked for me before, I've done that. Now I have to do something new. But I thought it would be interesting to review different things that have worked/not worked for me before.

1. In high school, it was a blend of anorexia and bulimia. Worked brilliantly, but as Neil Gaiman/Terry Pratchett wrote in Good Omens, that is handling your weight problem terminally, and I'm not really interested in that anymore.

2. Vegetarianism in college. That worked well at the time, because I was serious about it. When I decided to try that one again, I had lost much of my enthusiasm, but learned something that made it the AWESOMEST DIET EVER in the history of ever. Do you know what you can eat on a vegetarian diet? Cake. And cookies. And any pasta you want. Bread. Pancakes. Waffles. Also, ice cream.

3. The mediterranean diet. Which I loved because that's mostly how I eat anyway. But I get really bored with following steps and recommended meals after awhile. Also, I learned how to cook cheese enchiladas.

4. Oatmeal and yogurt. I don't really think I need to explain why I don't want to repeat this one.

5. Oatmeal and soup. Better than oatmeal and yogurt because there are more options in soups. I was definitely better nourished, but...meh. Sometimes I want things to chew. I started to feel like I was 80 and had no teeth.

I know that I could try something revolutionary like moderation and what-not, but my mother in law gave me the book In Defense of Food for Christmas. I think I will try eating all chemical free things. Since I am from a rural area, this should severely limit my choices and the weight should melt right off.

Scentsational!

2009-11-24T12:52:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, a woman came into our office wearing so much perfume you could still smell where she'd been three hours after she left. And then she came back in the afternoon, forever sealing my fate of going home nauseous and headachey.

Seriously, what is wrong with people? When I hit a certain age, my mother took me aside and gave me a few words of wisdom. Those words were these:

No one should be able to smell it unless they are within hugging distance.
You should not wear it to work (or a lot of places) because many people are allergic. (A point that has been re-iterated at certain times in my life. When I was in choir and drama we were told to NEVER, under any circumstances, wear perfume to rehearsal or onstage. In various offices I have worked in there has been a rule against perfumes/colognes in the handbook. Seriously, this rule is not some big beauty secret or whatever).
You should not be able to smell it on yourself after a few minutes.
You should not spray it directly on your clothes. In fact, perfume should come before clothes, and you really need an atomizer, and if you don't have one then you should spray it and walk through it. ONCE.

These are words I have taken to heart. Why do people feel the need to smell as if they have taken a shower in their scent? Is it to keep people at a distance? I didn't get within 5 feet of the woman and I was choking and coughing on this perfume. I can only imagine the respiratory gear necessary for the people who RODE IN THE CAR with her. Is that just being completely disrespectful, or do you think she just doesn't know?

Do you know anyone like that? What's the etiquette? Do you say something to them?

Peel Me a Grape, Would Ya?

2009-11-20T10:49:00.002-06:00

Mwahahaha. The first step in my Plan of World Domination is complete. On to step 2: Acquiring minions to do my bidding. Step 3: Decide what my bidding actually is. Step 4: Profit.

I am now, officially, a Master (of the Universe) (ok, of science) (whatever).

The line to fan me with palm fronds while hand feeding me fruit starts over there.
Minion applications should be filled out in triplicate and turned in over there.
And suggestions for tasks for the minions may be put in that box over there.

Poor AND Stupid, Its a Winning Combination, Yes?

2009-10-12T11:46:00.002-05:00

Are you a Nigerian e-mailer who would love to send me large sums of money for no reason? Apparently, I am the mark you are looking for.

I really thought I was savvy about this scam stuff, but I just got taken for $90.00. Supposedly, it will be returned to me, but it hasn't been returned to me yet, so I'm not holding my breath. Heck, it might be mostly legitimate but shady enough that I feel completely stupid. So.

The Background

I was suckered into a free "sample" after reading a story, supposedly posted by a reporter for CNN Online. The story was about getting whiter teeth for much less money. I got special promotional deals on the shipping and paid 99 cents. Please re-read. I paid 99 cents for a free sample. I will give you a minute to contemplate.

Anyway, I received the product. Just the product. No terms and conditions. No return information. Nothing. A tube in a box. Except for a little glossy sheet of paper with the words "risk free trial" and money back guarantee. Please note. This is important.

I used the product and hated it and put it away. I thought, "Its weird that says risk free trial, not free sample." Then I was distracted by something shiny.

Two Weeks Later

A charge for 87.62. And then, THEN I googled the company. (Tip: Always google first.) Hm, these people all got hit with multiple charges. Could not get their money back. I am an idiot.

So, I've jumped through all the hoops. Held my mouth just exactly right, clapped three times, turned in a counterclockwise circle, acknowledged the goddesses of the four corners, and stood on one leg. (I tried to send the package back to the return address on the website. Took it to the post office. Put it in the box. Then I called the company. This is the wrong returnaddress. But, its on your site... and the rep basically yawns and says, "What is your point? You are supposed to call first." So, I called the post office and the very pretty woman with the gorgeous skin and the fabulous hair pulled it for me ON A FEDERAL HOLIDAY and let me come pick it up. So I called the company back and got the correct address. And supposedly, if I call in a few days and its been delivered and give them the tracking number, I get refunded in 5 - 10 business days). Now, we will see. But I've never seen a more complicated return policy. I think the problem is, the more complicated they make the policy, the less likely people will manage to do it, and the less likely people are to get their money back. So, not exactly a scam, but not exactly NOT a scam either.

Please pray for me.

You Know Who You Are and You Know What You Did

2009-10-06T23:29:00.006-05:00

Hello Drivers of the Little Rock Metropolitan Area:

Can we chat? Because really. I don't know why you hate me, or why you seem hell bent on killing me every. single. day. We all drive the same way every morning right? We all get frustrated with the stand still traffic where no stand still traffic should exist. But the thing is, its your fault. As I said, we all drive the same way every morning. So we are all aware of the large stretch of construction that has been going on in the exact same place for over a year. We all know its there. We all know its not going to magically disappear over night. In fact, I think we all know that it is in fact NEVER GOING AWAY. So we should all be aware miles in advance that the left lane is closed and we need to merge. But were you aware that if you actually merged in advance, rather than speeding up and cutting in at the last minute, that we could all go the speed limit or close to it and not be standing still? It is your fault that I have to leave the house an hour before work every morning. Do you know what time that is? And do you know what time I have to actually drag myself from the warm embrace of my bed is? Its way too freaking early, that's what time it is. So, I'm already a little, shall we say, primitive? And then you pull this same maneuver EVERY DAY and one morning I will snap and I will rip your head off and spit down your neck. Please be advised. Knock it off.

Now, as to the luxury car drivers. I know you think you are more important than me because your car cost more than my house. But you are not. Get off my butt and cease with the frantic back and forth in the lane. Because surprisingly, this does not give me the ability to move the 10,000 other cars out of my way or give me the ability to fly in order to let your highness through. So sorry. Special note to That One Hag in the Lexus: yes. I am right next to you. No, I have not magically disappeared just because you decide that I am in your lane and need to be gone. Please do not look so shocked when I lay on the horn and make sure you are clear on what I think of you through the use of helpful hand gestures.

People who have nothing left to lose because your bumper is already dragging the ground and your car looks like it already went through the compactor? I'm sorry. Truly, I feel your pain. But I do not want to die, so could you express these feelings in a way that does not involve my wanting to drive with my eyes shut? Every time you guys make a stupid move, I have to inhale. And you make so many, it makes me need to hyperventilate and results in my being completely ragged out before 8 a.m. I need this to stop. Write angsty poetry while blasting Tool or something, would you?

Also, that wet stuff? Falling from the sky? Is rain. You have seen it before. The general rules of driving still apply. We do not need to go 80, but neither do we need to go 25 on the interstate. Please just remember the generally most important rule and we should all be fine: Remove head from sphincter. Then drive.

Thank you for your kind attention.

As you were.

For my next post I'll ask you how much you weigh and how much money you made last year

2009-09-29T16:42:00.002-05:00

So. Talking politics is usually a big no-no for me. However, I'm breaking my rule for two things:

Thing the first: I am so sorry to have to inform you, but it is not idealogically possible to be both a Nazi and a Communist. These are different things. You should look them up before you start throwing these labels around all willy-nilly and crazy like. As a subset of this, let's all agree to quit comparing modern political figures to Hitler. Unless or until someone begins the ritual extermination of an entire race of people and starts invading Poland, they cannot be compared to Hitler. Not to mention, its been done. Its boring and cliche and not as shocking as you seem to think it is.

Thing the twoth: Option. Please turn your Merriam Webster to page 516 with me:

1: The power or right to choose 2:a right to buy or sell something at a specified price during a specified time period 3: something offered for choice.

Now, let us apply that to the proposed health care choices. A public option would be a thing that you have the right to purchase or not to purchase. You can choose to purchase this, or you can choose to stick with the healthcare company and plan you already have. The purpose of this choice is to attempt to lower the cost of private healthcare through competition. That is not socialism. That is capitalism. Which brings us back to thing the first, and competing political ideologies.

I Think I Might Be More Insulted Than is Warranted

2009-09-23T16:24:00.004-05:00

What is it about me that attracts middle aged crack-heads like moths to a flame? What about me indicates in any way that I might be interested in a date with a homeless junkie? I'm just curious. Don't get me wrong, I sympathize completely with the plight of the homeless, and yes, they deserve love too, but I'm thinking there are more pressing things to be concerned about than lining up a Saturday night date.

Also, dude, when I try to shoot you down gently by pointing out that I am married? Respect. Do not insult me by suggesting that maybe he wouldn't have to know, like I'm some faithless bimbo who can be convinced that your wanting to get in my pants somehow makes me special.

Seriously, seriously barking up the wrong tree. That's all I'm saying.

Good morning

2009-06-22T11:34:00.002-05:00

It took me an hour and a half to get to work today because the interstate was blocked off while the state police rounded up pigs.

I really don't think there is anything to add to that.

Pigs. On the interstate.

Really a lot of nothing

2009-06-21T17:06:00.002-05:00

People in the fashion industry must have some seriously weird senses of humor.

Exhibit 1. Its 100 degrees here, already, and I cannot find a dress anywhere that isn't 80 lbs of polyester heat stroke on a hanger.

Exhibit 2. I cannot find any shorts that are work appropriate that are not made out of WOOL. What is the purpose of wool shorts, exactly?

Exhibit 3. Why are there shoes that look like sneakers with 5 inch spike heels? What is the appropriate occassion for these? Where does one need to be going to think, "its too casual for heels, its too formal for sneakers...I know! High heeled sneakers!"

Exhibit 4. Harem pants. Harem. Pants. HAREM PANTS.

Exhibit 5. Does anyone actually look good in a drop waist? Or in those pants that double as a support garment? Am I the only one who looks like Urkel in those?

Seriously. I had a very difficult time finding a garment I could put on my body yesterday without wanting to shake my fist at the sky and demand, "Why, God, WHY?!?!?" And yet. Somewhere out there is a girl in a pair of jeans that come up to her armpits, her high heeled sneakers, and some ridiculously complicated shirt. And she is thinking, "Finally, the fashion industry got some sense.

Okay, I don't know what this post is really about, but I'm sick of looking at the last one. Also, the Geico lady called me to inform me Geico was closing the claim and not paying the woman anything because another insurance company is covering it. But then she said, "Do you know this woman?" And I said no, I'd never even talked to the woman, not even at the accident scene. Apparently, the woman was IRATE and determined that Geico was going to pay her. She threatened to get a lawyer and everything. Which...the other company is paying out, so why does it have to be my insurance? But whatever. Far as I know its all over and done.

Pardon my French. Seriously, this post contains strong language that may be offensive to some viewers.

2009-05-06T15:55:00.003-05:00

You will recall that I recently had a car accident in which a gentleman hit me and then I hit a bus. That is the story, and that is the whole story. That's the story all parties involved told at the time.

The lying-ass bitch-faced whore of a bus driver is trying to claim that I hit the bus first and then the truck hit me. Fuck a bunch of that.

I know that people will try to take advantage of a situation, any way they can. I KNOW that. But it still pisses me off when people try to screw me over by lying and cheating. Especially when I WAS honest. To the point that I had to pay a fine because I ADMITTED to not wearing my seatbelt at the time of the collision. And in her situation, she had nothing to lose by telling the truth. I lost $60.00. That hurt. She didn't lose anything. Besides which, she DID originally tell the truth. Its in the police report that was taken on the scene. A MONTH later she decides to change the story.

All I can say is that that douchebag pile of shit can kiss my ass.

KISS MY ASS.

OK. I'm better now. Please forgive the cussing, its how you know I'm angry.

So over it

2009-04-22T22:43:00.002-05:00

I am so sick of hearing about how persecuted Christians are. In a country that is mostly made up of people claiming to be Christians. Get off it, people. Unless someone is planning to put your head on a stick or use you as a human torch because of your faith, you're not persecuted.

If Miss California really was de-crowned because of the whole not believing in gay marriage thing, that sucks. Because while I completely disagree with her, I do respect her honesty and her right to free speech. But that is not persecution. They didn't stone her or throw her to the lions. She doesn't have to sneak to church on Sunday. She wasn't silenced, she got to say what she wanted and she still is.

Free speech comes with consequences. Ask John Lennon or Johnny Rocket.

Night of the Living Yuppies

2009-04-21T11:27:00.002-05:00

So I had to drive to a place 45 minutes away, but I got an excellent deal on a used Volvo. No payment or anything, and the car is in great shape. And now I'd really like to go back to the place where they wanted to charge me $7,500.00 for a 2002 FORD TAURUS of all things (the car that reminds me of a rolling suppository), and where they told me I wouldn't be able to find anything much lower than that, and totally give them the finger.

Except that wouldn't be very Christian of me.

So, anyway, I have a car that is nicer than my old car and is really, really, really fun to drive. I know they kind of have a soccer mom-y, yuppie, status symbolly kind of reputation, but that sucker can HAUL.

So, we're all good here. I mean, I do sort of compulsively check under the seats for pods, but other than that, we're good.

Do you think it would help if I begged?

2009-04-13T11:58:00.003-05:00

I thought we were supposed to be in an economic crisis. I thought people would just be dying to sell me a car. Maybe I didn't think they would follow me around trying to underbid each other (well, maybe I kinda thought that), but I thought for sure someone would at least want me to look at their car and try to talk me into buying it.

No one wants to sell me a car.

If I lived anywhere near a place with reliable public transportation I'd be all over taking the money and not getting a car. Unfortunately, that's not an option.

I hate car shopping.

I love you

2009-04-02T14:42:00.004-05:00

So, Tuesday I hit a bus. Well, actually, I was slammed into a bus, but toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.

So, I hit the bus. My glasses went flying off my face and have never been recovered. My neck hurts, my ass hurts (that was some major clenching, let me tell you), and I have clearly suffered brain damage.

I called my husband from the scene and said, "Hey, honey, I just hit a bus, but I'm fine...no you don't need to come get me...I'll see you tonight. I love you." Luckily, my husband knows I am missing the panic gene and came anyway (once, when the oven caught on fire, he totally missed it because I said, "Hey, the oven's on fire." Just like that. Then I put out the fire.)

Today is my first day back to work, and I just told one of the truckers that I love him. That can't be going anywhere good.

Spiritual Journey

2009-02-04T14:32:00.005-06:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking about spiritual things, lately, and I want to try to put some of it on paper. Please bear with me. I am going to talk about my Christianity. But. Its okay. This is not one of those things that ends with me asking you if you know the Lord Jesus as your personal savior and then beating you about the head and neck with my tract until you agree or anything.

***********
As a child, I attended a small church set off a gravel lane in the middle of nowhere, in a middle of nowhere state. My uncle was the minister, and the congregation consisted of about 30 people. The church itself probably wouldn't have seated more than 60. The pews were shining golden pine, with blue cushions that were more for looks than comfort. The walls were cinderblock, and the windows were long and skinny with modest stained glass depictions of the stations of the cross. The alter was a small wooden table with the words "This Do In Remembrance of Me" carved into the lip on the front. The pulpit was small, plywood, and sat directly behind the altar. My uncle stood behind the pulpit, and a choir of about 15 (out of 30 members) sat behind him in their blue robes. My aunt played the simple standing piano, and occasionally another woman joined in on the ancient organ. We sang hymns about what a friend we had in Jesus and the victory we had in Jesus and how this was our Father's world. And we talked about Jesus and we had potluck. And pancakes.

The message was always about love and kindness to your fellow man. Maybe it was because it was such a small church, but it seems like the sermons were tailored to the audience. A sermon about God's help when someone was in trouble, a sermon about gratitude when people were doing well. I remember one sermon regarding the four different types of love. I remember a hundred about faith as small as a mustard seed and the love of God. The point is, that church was what churches are supposed to be: a family. And I guess my uncle just never felt it was appropriate to threaten his family with hell and damnation and the gnashing of teeth, or maybe it was because he understood that wasn't the important part anyway (it gets a lot of press, but most people actually believe its beside the point. I mean, we don't even agree on its existence, its nature if it does exist, and if it does exist we have no idea who will be there or why). Because he never did. No one was condemned to hell, ever. I thought all churches were like this.

Imagine my surprise.

When my uncle moved away to tend another flock, I began attending one of the churches you are probably more familiar with. The church with the balcony and the video cameras and the grand piano. The one where to get on camera you put on your constipated concentration face and squeezed out a few tears while mouthing along to the words with your hands in the air (a practice I still do not understand. What, exactly, does that signify? It strikes me as a little too showy to be supplication).

In my little church on the gravel lane in the woods you were required to be modest and clean. We weren't exactly Amish, but the basic idea was the same. You wore the best you had in deference to God, but if your best was a pair of old jeans with no holes, that was okay. Clothes were meant to do what they advertised to do, mainly clothe your body. They were meant to be functional and serviceable, and beyond that they were completely unimportant. In the new, different church it almost felt like I walked into a fashion show, not a temple of the Lord. You could tell who had a new dress by the way she posed until you noted how lovely her dress was, in intricate detail, and with more enthusiasm than was generally warranted.

In my little church, the offering plate was passed once on Sunday, almost discreetly, and occasionally the meaning of tithing would be discussed. In fact, the majority of people gave their tithe privately and quietly to the minister. Which is not as easily done in a larger church, but does seem to allow people to give what they can or want to give without competition or judgment. In this new church there was much hollering about giving to the church, giving to God, and the plate was sometimes passed on Sunday morning, Sunday night, and at Wednesday night services. There were more kinds of offerings than there were books of the Bible, it seemed to me.

The people didn't feel like a family, but rather like a large collection of cliques and exclusive groups. Looking back, I see some interesting parallels between high school and church. I didn't notice them at the time, because I pretty much quit going to church in high school. You were always on the lookout for who was judging you or what people were saying about you.

The biggest difference, though, and the most important one, was the fact that this preacher yelled. And I mean, a lot. His ears would turn red, then his face, and then he was bellowing about the wrath of a vengeful God who would in short order return to earth, take all the really-for-true-and-sure Christians (this was the first I ever heard of the possibility that I could think I was Christian, but not actually be a Christian, dear Lord I'm only 12, how do I know if I really know?) with him and leave everyone else to rot in a period of wars and fires and earthquakes and famine and pestilence.

I was petrified.

For the 100th time: YES. I AM SURE I AM NOT PREGNANT.

2009-01-09T10:18:00.002-06:00

So. I keep having this recurring (really frustrating dream) that I look down and realize, "Holy crap, I'm 9 months pregnant! And going in to labor (I think?) and this kid is going to have 6 tails because I have been drinking and smoking for 9 months!" I...do not know what this means. Probably nothing. I have zero psychic ability and I do not really believe in dream interpretation blah blah. Its probably related to the fact that many of my friends and peers have begun having babies. There's nothing mysterious about that.

But it was a little creepy when I got the baby in the king cake yesterday. I'm just sayin'.

2009

2009-01-06T14:09:00.002-06:00

If you will look to your right, you will notice one of my New Year's resolutions sitting in the sidebar, being mostly boring, except for the number of real life people who find it odd that I like raw green beans. I do not like raw carrots, but if you have never tried a raw greenbean you are missing out on sweet, crunchy goodness.

Usually, I try not to go overboard on the resolutions, and they are generally the same ones every year, mostly. This year, I kept the resolution about paying on my debt, and I am continuing that in '09 (and '10, '11, and '12, probably) except I am paying an extra $20 a month. Maybe next year it will be a little more than that so I can be done with the damn thing before my unborn children put me in the nursing home.

I resolve every year to eat better. I do this for awhile, and then off and on, and never really do it all the time. But I figure eating extra healthy for 3 months certainly can't hurt anything. It's gotta be better than eating extra healthy for no months. So even if I get lazy, I win. Although, I am reaching the age where demolishing an apple pie by myself is kind of a big deal because the pie does not immediately vaporize into nothingness causing me to lose 3 pounds. That was nice, when I really could eat anything and either not gain weight or lose weight, just by breathing. But alas, I'm not as active as I was then and of course I've screwed up my metabolism pretty badly with the whole eating disorder thing. So I'm trying again.

Finally, AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, I WILL finish my thesis project and get my damn graduate degree and NEVER HAVE TO STUDY AGAIN in '09.

And, I resolve to be kinder. This is another resolution I make every year because even if I fail, the attempt will have been worth something. In that vein, I have signed up for the cleaning crew at my church (instead of janitors they use members). This works in two ways: 1. you cannot be overly proud or self-righteous while scrubbing a toilet and 2. the money saved from not paying a cleaning service is put into mission work. That's $20 per member that goes to local homeless shelters, trips to Kenya to build and develop schools, local schools, and etc. I might go back to serving in the soup kitchen as well. Also, so far I have avoided office gossip (and man do I LOVE me some gossip) and have made friends by pitching in to help with jobs no one wants to do.

I don't really get the resolution thing, really. A lot of this stuff I actually started before the New Year. I try to do better when I notice something is off, not wait for a particular date to change it. But I like the newness and the freshness and the probably false feeling of a clean slate. So those are my resolutions.

What are yours?

Patent Pending

2008-12-28T20:16:00.002-06:00

Have you ever invented something, only you didn't actually realize you had invented something until you saw it in an infomercial? I have done this twice in my life, and both times were related to bras. I do not care to speculate on what that means about me, so let's move in.

The first time I "invented" something that someone else marketed was in high school. You see, bra cups used to only come in standard A, B, C sizes etc that correlated to a certain number of inches that your breasts stuck out from your body. Someone failed to inform my breasts that they were supposed to either stop growing or continue growing until they reached this standard number of inches, so the girls stopped somewhere in between sizes. This meant I could either purchase a slightly two small bra and have that truly sexy quadri-boob effect, or I could buy a slightly too large bra and never have to carry a purse because I could fit a lipstick, spare change, and a snack for later in the spare room in my bra. And because I have always WANTED to be a special and unique snowflake, but never really considered myself all that special or unique, it crossed my mind that bra sizes falling in between already set bra sizes would be a moneymaker. And then PlayTex put one on the market. Bless you PlayTex, and all your issue, down unto the 7th generation. Yea, verily.

The second one was more recent. See, my ladies are both small enough and big enough to make a bra necessary to me, especially in those oh so fraught adolescent years. And because I was into sports, I pretty much religiously wore a regular bra under my sports bra (look, they were small enough to make me look really flat under a sports bra and big enough to hurt if I ONLY wore a regular bra. So I wore both). Now, as you may or may not know, sports bras tend to be racer back as do uniforms. You could get a racerback bra, but I didn't own one, so my regular bra straps would show. Because I am classy and refined and sophisticate (cough) I felt that was tacky. So I would clip a barrett around the regular bra straps to pull them together and they fit perfectly under a sports bra without showing. Because there are bras available in racerback, I never thought of this as an invention, more a solution to my particular problem. Someone is selling this! Someone created a plastic thingy that hooks around the bra straps to pull them in under tank tops etc. I still don't really expect it to be a huge money maker, but if these people really pull in 19.95 for this piece of plastic when a $2 barrett or a strapless bra or a racerback bra work just fine, then I am going to be PISSED.

Anyone else ever have this happen? I'm curious about what you invented and then someone else actually marketed later on.

Last Part of 100 Things

2008-12-19T11:06:00.002-06:00

76. Danced to the blues in a park in Memphis
77. Seen Bill Clinton speak in person
78. Seen Ralph Nader speak
79. Had a conversation with Ralph Nader (what? I was in college, I was an Environmental Science major, he was running for President)
80. Seen Junior Brown in concert three times
81. Water ski-ed (what is the proper way to spell ski in the past tense?)
82. Been to Sun Records
83. Read the Bible (even Deuteronomy…all those obscure laws fascinate me. Also the rape laws will make your jaw drop)
84. Broken into a “haunted hospital” twice and almost gotten arrested both times
85. Seen the ducks at the Peabody
86. Scared the crap out of Kenny Rogers and Oscar de la Hoya by shoving a camera in their faces (Kenny Rogers was impressively orange. Oscar de la Hoya was impressively hot)
87. Been to a major league baseball game (Yankees v. Orioles…I don’t care about the Orioles but I HATE the Yankees)
88. Been to the World Trade Center site
89. Been to church camp (ya’ll don’t even know how much of an experience this really is)
90. Gone on vacation by myself
91. Flushed a cell phone down the toilet. While sober. In the middle of the damn day.
92. Tried…things….hallucinogenic things
93. Told off a fire chief
94. Won a drinking competition…well, I think I won…I drank the most and didn’t pass out. Is that winning? Because I did vomit. Which felt like losing…
95. Been to a foam party (they were the big thing when I was in college…some weird club fad)
96. Tutored an elementary school kid
97. Tutored a college student
98. Gotten really, really close to getting my masters degree (next semester, fingers crossed)
99. Built a model of a shower, complete with running water and everything
100. Put up a Christmas tree by myself

100 Things that prove that just because I haven't bungee jumped doesn't mean I sit around on my fat ass all day missing out on life.

100 Things Part 3

2008-12-13T15:49:00.003-06:00

51. Accidentally shoplifted and not returned the merchandise
52. Been camping
53. Kissed two boys on the same night
54. Become healthy after an eating disorder
55. Run 15 miles
56. Dated a guy with an accent, just for the accent (he was German, for the record, and really sweet, but he was a nihilist and that got old)
57. Sent a pizza as a Valentine's Day gift (it was heart shaped)
58. Learned to play the piano by ear (haven't played in 12 years, I don't know if it will ever happen again)
59. Painted a picture
60. Published a poem
61. Cried over a boy
62. Made a boy cry
63. Asked a guy out
64. Made the first move
65. Been a shoulder to cry on
66. Helped a friend make an ex jealous
67. Worked at a documentary film festival
68. Attended local art shows
69. Bought work from local artists
70. Eaten a whole cake by myself
71. And not felt guilty about it
72. Taken time to talk to a homeless person (really talk)
73. Changed a tire
74. Walked to a gas station and rescued my own damn self when I ran out of gas a few weeks ago
75. Been a vegetarian

100 Things Part 2

2008-12-13T15:38:00.002-06:00

26. Organized a canned food drive
27. Been to the top of the Statue of Liberty
28. Gotten married at a famous historical site
29. Visited a place in Mexico that no longer exists on a map
30. Been skinny dipping
31. Played strip poker
32. Gotten drunk on moonshine (which did not lead to the strip poker, interestingly)
33. Planted a tree
34. Rescued a baby bunny
35. Rescued about 4 stray dogs
36. Been followed home by a baby deer (no, I'm not a Disney Princess, actually...it was a pet the people up the road from us adopted and it followed my step sister and I home one day)
37. Had sex in a public place
38. Taught Yoga classes
39. Had a conversation in French (although, do not ask me to ever do this again, it was right after 4 years of French classes, and it was an exchange student. I cannot remember how to do it anymore)
40. Been in a play
41. Won a speech competition
42. Sung in the choir (these are accomplishments for me, because I hate public speaking, and I can't sing worth a damn)
43. Ridden the train on a vacation
44. Ridden the subway in New York
45. Walked on the River Walk in San Antonio
46. Had a street performer perform the wedding march at my wedding
47. Been blessed with a sacred piece of velvet from a statue of Jesus that mysteriously appeared in a small mountain town in Mexico
48. Eaten a banana split for lunch
49. Eaten dessert first
50. Danced in public despite my severe case of White-Baptistitis

100 Things Part 1

2008-12-11T22:52:00.002-06:00

So, there's this 100 things I've done list floating about in the innertubes. And I think its targeted to make people feel bad about themselves, because I have not done most of the things on the list. But I got to thinking...so I've never been kissed in the rain. So what? Standing in the rain, generally my first thought is something like, "What kind of moron stands around in the rain?" On my list of things to do in the rain, making out comes somewhere behind knit a sweater and stand on my head. I have been kissed in a shower. And a swimming pool. And a hot tub. And several other places in between, so why exactly do I feel bad about that? And so what I've never been to Paris? I actually may be the only person on the planet who has no interest in Paris.
Because the list makes me feel a little condescended to (you've never jumped out of a plane? My God, you poor poor boring slug ) I decided to start my own list of 100 things I have done in my life...here's the first 25. Start your own list.

1. Hiked to the top of a mountain in Hawaii.
2. Seen the Maya ruins.
3. Eaten caviar (hated it) and escargot (loved it)
4. Ridden a horse on the beach
5. Walked on the beach at night
6. Seen a Broadway play (seen three, actually)
7. Bought a homeless man dinner
8. Gone to drama night at a coffee shop
9. Been invited backstage to meet the Red Hot Chili Peppers (I did not actually get to meet them)
10. Sunk a canoe
11. Been deep sea fishing
12. Caught a fish
13. Shot a can
14. Shot clay pigeons
15. Shot a snake
16. Touched a shark
17. Touched a sea turtle ---in the wild
18. Snorkeled
19. Won a race
20. Won a spelling bee
21. Won a writing contest
22. Ridden a roller coaster
23. Caught fireflies
24. Massacred fireflies
25. Served in a soup kitchen

He claims he would divorce me if I did this. So I'm thinking I'm gonna do it.

2008-12-06T22:42:00.003-06:00

So, this Christmas is going to be light. With Michael's layoffs and me trying to pay off credit card debt, we set a limit that's way below our normal limit. The receptionist at work thinks its still a high limit, but we have no kids and the limit includes mothers and Michael's sister, so its really pretty low. We aren't spending more than $300 between the two of us this year. Last year, I spent at least that just on Michael's present. So, it feels weird to be getting smaller things this year, since I have a tendency to over do and want to out do myself each year. Which completely misses the spirit of Christmas in the first place, and why the holiday has moved way down on my list of favorite holidays (isn't that odd how that happens? As a kid, Christmas blew all other holidays out of the water. If I had made a list of my favorite holidays at 10, it would have read Christmas, Christmas, Christmas, Easter, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Christmas. And the holiday that didn't even make the list? The one that I would have placed behind Columbus Day on the list of best holidays? Is now my favorite. Thanksgiving).

Anyway, so I was googling for some gift ideas. Michael's not very helpful this year, he doesn't have a burning desire for anything, and I can't afford a PlayStation 3. So, I'm googling. And I find this list of romantic, free Christmas gifts. And so I check it out. Starts out with things like write a poem, do a photo collage, yada yada. And I'm thinking, these are things I haven't considered romantic since high school. Waste of time, yawn. And then. Then. The item that may have made my weekend.

Sock puppets.

That is the awesomest awesome that ever awesomed. I am still laughing.

And also? Thinking about doing it maybe a little bit.

Its not Norman Rockwell, exactly, but its ours and we like it well enough

2008-11-28T18:12:00.002-06:00

Please excuse my absence, I have been eating myself into a coma.

This was the first year my mother has done Thanksgiving in a really long time. To encourage her to do it this year, I helped a lot. Now I finally know how to make my grandmother's dressing, which is the only dressing I have ever liked in my life. Its just the right amount of moist and flavorful for my mouth, without a lot of weird textures or random items thrown in (oyster dressing? Can someone explain the appeal of that, please? I do not like snot in my dressing.)

Anyway, since my mom moved into this little housing complex filled with little old ladies, we decided to invite the entire complex. We had like 9 random little old ladies, but it felt like real Thanksgiving, because many of those ladies had no where else to go. I guess it felt like, you know, showing gratitude because we shared with people who had less.

But the truly exciting part was the night before. My mom has this little clubhouse space next to her apartment where we were going to have the meal, so we were carrying things over around 1 in the morning. We stepped out the door to carry the twice baked potatoes over to the fridge to slide in the oven and melt the cheese the next day. As soon as we stepped outside, it sounded like there was a riot in the neighborhood. Dogs going crazy barking, people shouting, and so on. All of a sudden there's a loud shot. It gets quiet for a minute, and the riot resumes. Then we hear this one woman, louder than everyone else, and she's shouting, "Oh my God! What happened? What happened? Is he dead?" Then there's another shot. The barking stops at this point. We turned around and went in and called 911, of course, but from the way these people were behaving, I don't THINK we heard a person get killed. I think possibly they were fighting dogs and shot at least one of the dogs. This is a terrible thing, of course, but I would hate to think the criminals in my state were so stupid they would kill a person and stand around shouting over the corpse. Or maybe I do want them to be that stupid, because it increases my chances of survival, but I don't want anyone to be dead.

Now I have to go digest, because we start all over tomorrow with Michael's whole family. And its probably a good thing I don't own a handgun, because there is a distinct possibility I will want to shoot one of those people. (They are mostly lovely, don't get me wrong, but some of them are a little hard to take in large doses. Although the one aunt that always makes out like there's a competition between Michael and her son will probably be less likely to compare them and piss me off, because her son just got a divorce. Interesting story there, the first day we moved into our house she came over with Michael's mother ostensibly to "help" us move in. She spent the whole time comparing it to her kids' house, how much smaller it was etc, etc. Which, of course, I mean they are older and more established in careers and whatnot. I told Michael the other day, when we were discussing how he thinks most of them disliked his dad and that's why he was left out of a lot of family stuff, that I would take his dad over his aunt any day, because at least he didn't try to make me be part of a competition I wanted no part in. He said, "Don't worry about it. Her 'kids' just got divorced. We win." To which I replied, "Dude, you're right! Let's go!")

Selling out? Moving on up? Too weird? Really Common?

2008-11-06T16:32:00.002-06:00

Alright, ya’ll. I need some advice. I had a really weird morning. I received a phone call from someone I’ve never heard of before. It was a wrong number, but it turns out he is looking for a receptionist/personal assistant. He really liked my phone voice and started telling me about the job. Which sounded way too good to be true, because the money is way more than what most receptionists get paid, the hours are awesome, and the work is really light.

But I cultivate a suspicious nature, so at first I was like, thanks but I don’t think so. Then I talked to Michael and he said it sounded odd, but why not call back and see if I could set up an interview and take it from there. Sound advice. So I called the guy back and it sounds like an AWESOME job. Except.

Firstly, the guy was commenting on my “sexy” voice, asking me for a personal description, and telling me he liked his assistants to dress a little sexy. This makes me a little squirmy, because, ew? But on the other hand, the company is a marketing firm and I don’t think it’s that unusual for “sexiness” to be a little bit of a job requirement. But then.

He started telling me how he sometimes will take his assistant shopping. And buy her clothes. Which? Is across the line for me. My husband wouldn’t like that very much. Apparently, the last woman to have the job just…didn’t tell her husband about it. And that won’t work for me. If I feel like I need to keep it from my husband, its probably not something I need to be doing.

Then, of course, is the issue of I love what I do and I’m good at it, even if the salary is poor. And being a personal assistant has nothing to do with what I do and what I want to be doing in the future. Then again, with Michael being laid off, maybe money is a more important consideration than job satisfaction and personal goals? Finally, I’m a little uncomfortable with the whole idea of being hired to be sexy. I want to be hired because I’m smart, organized, good at what I do. Also? I know that I can deal with the smarminess of this guy for awhile. I’m not sure how long. The thing is, I’m not one of those people who freaks over every inappropriate comment. I’ve worked around that, and I’ve worked in an environment where I was truly sexually harassed…where the guy really did use his position to get cheap sexual thrills. This feels…somewhere in between. Like I might need to take a shower every day after work, but then again, I don’t really think he’s going to be the type to get all gropey in the office.

What’s ya’lls take? Michael said the guy sounds a little creepy, but that if I was comfortable with it and wanted to do it, he would support that. He said definitely no private shopping trips though, because that would bother him (also, he’s not a jealous guy, so if that seemed inappropriate to him as well, I’m guessing it probably is). Of course, he also reminded me that I would have a graduate degree and be working as a personal assistant. But the salary is commensurate with a graduate degree salary, so…would I be selling out? Does the guy sound creepy to anyone else, or am I just being a big prude? Would you schedule an interview anyway, and see where it went?

ETA: YA'LL. I called my mom with this, because she really has an awesome BS detector. She says this guy had called HER a while back. Same story. Same deal on the wrong number (calling someone else, off by one digit...). So. Nevermind.

Ya'll pray

2008-11-04T21:19:00.002-06:00

Okay- so my state is trying to pass an act that outlaws gay adoption. Which is awful. But worse? Its worded in a way that it includes any adoption by any unmarried person. Which means, if the person you felt was best able to care for your children in the event of your death was single, you cannot leave your children to them. I cannot even find the words to express how much the whole thing offends me, how strongly I feel it violates basic human rights, and how much it makes me want to spent, and its WINNING. Please pray. Or clap your hands and say I Believe. Or wish on a star. Or whatever. Just help.

Also? My surprisingly typically blue state is completely red at this point. McCain totally swept it.

I may need to move.

I Have Got to Get Over Myself

2008-10-27T16:13:00.003-05:00

Currently drowning in depression.

Local news anchor Anne Pressly died after being attacked in her home. In case you are wondering why you might be interested in that, she played Anne Coulter in the recently released movie "W."

I cannot afford a debt consolidation program. I also cannot afford my monthly minimum payments. Some lube would be nice. Also? I see no way I will be able to buy Christmas presents. The really fun part is that I also cannot afford my anti-depressant. My mother also cannot afford her anti-depressant, and we probably should not speak to each other until this situation is remedied.

I'm having an I Hate My Body period (these generally occur right around the time I feel like I'm drowning in suckitude in my life and can't see a way out). Food restrictions have begun and are beginning to get ridiculous. Which I know, but cannot seem to stop. Honestly, I'm not even hungry.

And I'm sick of hearing myself whine. I feel like one of those emo/goth/whatever they are now kids on MySpace. Coming soon: bad poetry about suicide, blackness, and death. Also, possibly an entry about cutting myself and how NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME and my new love of Tool.

(Just to clear things up: I do not actually cut myself and I do not actually enjoy Tool. This is just my type of humor when things are yucky).

Oh, so very, very wrong

2008-10-22T15:16:00.002-05:00

So, the "lady." Who tried to rip off my mom? Remember her?

Yeah, okay.

So. She had the NERVE to call my mother the other night. Another one of those Telex calls. And she starts off all polite, how are you, how is your family, blah blah blah. Which is making my mother see red, really, so you can't totally blame her for going against what the police recommended she do (also, I will have to remember to tell some stories about my mom getting angry that will help you understand this more. But later for that). And the woman finally gets around to asking when we will be shipping her merchandise and the check and all that? And my mother, bless her heart, couldn't NOT say something to her. So, she tells the operator the story on the fraudulent check, and the operator passes it on, and...CLICK. The "woman" hung up on them.

So my mother says to the operator, "Do you believe me?"

And the operator says, "Well, ma'am....really not my place...blah professional blahdy blah...but yeah."

And THEN! Then she says! "The "woman" is not even deaf."

Which yeah, okay, you guys are probably like..."no shit, Sherlock." But for me that was like, are you kidding? I mean, I get that she's been lying to us from the beginning and all, and that she lied about the cancer and whatnot for sympathy. But seriously?

There are so many levels of wrong here, people, so many levels.

Brain Full

2008-10-22T09:27:00.002-05:00

So. I do not even know where to start. I could talk about how my brakes went out because I'm an idiot, and I didn't even flip out when the mechanic called me sweetheart and spoke to me like he was wondering how I managed to dress myself in the morning and if I was really allowed to wander around by myself. You know, out in public, where I might have access to sharp things. I also didn't flip out when he quoted the bill and pretty much straight up told me that if I WASN'T a complete moron, the bill would have been like a 10th of what it was. So there's that.

Or, I could tell you about how I am pretty sure I gave us a mild case of food poisoning. Because I was trying to save money and bought the manager's special in the meat display case, because dude! Its like half price! Why is no one else jumping on this? And two days later, I began to understand as I prayed for death and cursed those damn butterfly porkchops. So there's that.

Or I could talk about the bounced checks (D'oh!) because I am a moron. Or the insurance woes related to being a moron. Or SO MANY OTHER THINGS. Like my grandmother's aversion to middle names and why that is interesting. Or about the collection's guy who keeps calling the office and yelling at anyone who answers the phone. Or about the heater in my house that is still broken WTF and how it is now dipping into the 40s and 50s (F) and because I am a delicate southern flower, this is way too cold.

But my brain is really too full to talk about much of anything right now, so consider this a bookmark with a list of things I want to talk about eventually. As soon as my head empties out a little more.

Be Warned!

2008-10-17T09:28:00.003-05:00

Moving on to something lighter, because usually writing things down lets me get them out of my system, but this time, the longer that post is visible to me, the angrier I get. So in the interest of my peace of mind…

My husband and I made a HUGE mistake. We didn’t realize it was going to turn out to be such a huge mistake until it was too late to rewind and take back the entire conversation. We discussed our Lists. You know, the list of celebrity “freebies” or just list of celebrities we find especially attractive. Whatever. It is supposed to be fun. Unfortunately, I think he is repulsed by my choices and I have lost a significant amount of respect for him after hearing his. Significant.

So…here’s our lists, with resulting commentary.

My List:

Jake Gyllenhaal

Michael says: But he’s gay! He was in the gay cowboy movie!

Megan says: He is not gay. Also, while I thought Brokeback Mountain was waaaaay overrated, I am giving him a pass. He took a risk. I like that in a guy. Also, I respect a guy who is comfortable enough with himself to forever be known as one of the those guys in the gay cowboy movie.

Michael says: I may never have sex with you again.

Clive Owen

Michael says: Ew.

Megan says: I knew I shouldn’t have gone first.

Daniel Craig

Adrian Brody

Michael died. He sort of gasped something about his wife being a freak and then he choked and he died. It is hard to respond to a dead man.

Michael’s List:

Megan Fox

Megan says:…blink,blink,blink…

Michael says: What?

Megan says: Are you…for real? Did you hit your head? I don’t even know who she is, except she’s the girl who claims to have had a lesbian relationship with a Russian stripper? Is that what she is famous for? Do you have a death wish?

Michael says: Yes, but she has great…eyes. Really great…eyes.

Scarlett Johansson

Megan says: You know she allegedly slept with Benizio Deltoro in an elevator, right? Do you really want to go where he has gone before you?

Michael: Allegedly. Allegedly gone before me. And even if he DID go before me, do you really think there's anything she would say no to after Benizio Deltoro in an elevator?

Megan: You...actually make a reasonable argument. But all the same...ew.

Katherine Heigl

Megan says: I am sensing a theme here…I am also sensing that I will never be naked with you again.

Other names on his list did not bother too much (Elisha Dushku (sp?) and Natalie Portman) but there was not a single name on mine that he didn't take exception to.

And now we can never have sex again.

I have never literally wanted to cut someone before. The feeling is...unusual. Sort of like a burning and fizzing sensation.

2008-10-14T16:47:00.002-05:00

People completely suck sometimes. Which is a weird thing for me to be saying, because I tend to be of a generally trusting mindframe, and in general believe the best of everyone until they prove me wrong. I’m also aware of this, so I do take precautions that prevent me from being robbed blind or giving my entire life savings to orphans who don’t exist.

My mom has been trying to sell some of her things to make some money to pay the rent. I help as much as I can, but I can’t help with all of it, so…anyway, she gets a call from a woman about some items we have listed in the paper. The woman is deaf and wants to work out details over e-mail because those tty calls are sort of weird and expensive. My mom no longer has internet, so I handle the e-mails.

First red flag: this woman wants to pay $600 for stuff we have for sale and is allegedly deaf, but cannot write an e-mail with a coherent sentence. First thing I thought was, reads like spam. (Look, I just figure a deaf person has to be able to write fairly well in order to communicate with a lot of people and also if you have $600 to spend on luxury items I’m guessing you are not going to be an uneducated person. However, since I could be wrong about both of those assumptions, I ignored the little red flag).

Second little red flag: she never asked for pictures. She was buying some expensive items and she was just going to take our word for the quality? That seems…weird. But, you know, maybe she’s just kooky.

Third little red flag: she doesn’t want us to pay for shipping. She is going to pay for the shipping. No, really, she wants to pay for the shipping. Okay, so she’s kooky like Renfield was kooky. Still. Her money’s still green, and all that.

Fourth BIG RED FLAG: she finally sends the information for how to get her extra money to the shipper. Western Union transfer to London. We are shipping within the continental US here, why are you wanting me to send money to London? (Which brought me back to my original thought that it was a like spam scam).

Fifth HUGE ENORMOUS RED FLAG: The check arrives, the woman’s name is nowhere on it, and the damn thing is made out for $1,100 more than the asking price. So we are supposed to wire transfer $1,100 to the UK for…shipping? That right there ain’t right.

And the bank says: FRAUDULENT CHECK. Quelle surprise, at this point.

I am very, very angry right now. My mom was counting on the money to pay her rent and get some food and medication. It’s not like this woman just cheated her out of some vacation money or something. My mom really needs that money. And that lying ass bitch got us hopeful that maybe something was going to work out okay.

I would like to physically harm her. I am a completely non-violent person, and I could get great glee from smashing my fist into her face over and over and over again (MEGANSMASH).

Do not fuck with the people I love, is all I’m saying. And also, watch out for e-mail scams even in real life.

If it was an evil plan, I suspect someone would be Mwa-hah-hahing right about now. Although that someone would not be me.

2008-10-09T11:45:00.003-05:00

Monday, my husband was laid off from his job. I am still pissed about this, so we won't speak of it except to say that the economy is hurting people and I will never tease him about saving and being thrifty again.

Last night, I almost killed my dogs (to which my husband says, "Megan, you can't even kill the fleas." Boggled look here). I got new flea stuff to try on them. I put it in the areas the directions told me to. 30 minutes later my house is covered in foamy, sticky vomit and my dogs are still puking. 2 hours later we are forcing water down dog throats because they are so severely dehydrated they are having spasms and unable to walk in a straight line. They aren't speaking to me after the whole force feeding of water thing, but they are alive to hate me, so there's that.

Tonight I plan to make my husband sick with some suspect pork from the fridge (the breaker tripped and the fridge was off for an undetermined length of time). And for my finale maybe I will break my great aunt's hip and do something awful to my mother.

And Another Thing!

2008-10-03T14:35:00.002-05:00

Shut up, Pat Buchanan! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! What does Sarah Palin being attractive have to do with her ability to be Vice President of the United States? And also! Quit saying Biden was boring because he kept backing up his statements with facts! That is the purpose of a debate! Not to be the most attractive, but to use facts to back up your argument! Seriously, finding the facts boring is what got us George and his messed up priorities and his messed up budgets and his truly skewed perception of reality. We don't need any more of that! Please, let us have facts back. A few facts would have been helpful to Ms. Palin when she was discussing "safe, nuclear weaponry." Safe nuclear weapons? I'm pretty sure those only exist in her imagination, but if she had some facts that supported that statement I might not have thrown a pillow at her head last night. I'm just saying.

Do not feed the animals. They are cranky.

2008-10-03T14:04:00.003-05:00

1. Sarah Palin needs to quit referring to her family as middle class. Her family is not middle class. They are wealthy. Sarah Palin also needs to study some basic political history and political science. Also? There are other quote worthy people in the world. Not every quote you use is required to come from Ronald Reagan.

2. My insurance company needs to go sodomize themselves. I just got a bill for $360 after a routine checkup because the insurance company said either I was not a member or I was not covered at the time. I was covered at the time. $360.

3. People need to stop coming in to work sick. I catch EVERY respiratory infection to come my way. Keep your germs to yourselves, people.

4. I cannot eat anything right now because everything makes me nauseous. Which is making me cranky. But really, everyone needs to stop telling me I am pregnant because of this. I am not stupid and I am not pregnant. I know my body better than you do, random co-worker. Not to mention the 99% effective birthcontrol I use, along with the fact that even if I were trying to get pregnant I most likely couldn't. So, not only are you risking your life in approaching me in the first place, your jokey little comments bring up some painful issues for me and while I know you mean well, you might as well wear a suit of steaks while poking a sleeping wolverine. The end result is pretty much the same.

5. Who taught people to use commas whenever they would pause in speaking? Who? Because I would like to beat them with a grammar book. You do not use commas everywhere you would pause in speaking! There are reasons for this. For one, maybe you never pause and you are oneofthosepeoplewhotalksreallyfastanddoesn'tevenpauseattheendofasentence. Or maybe you are William Shatner and you,pause really, a, lot, even when, its, completely, unneccessary. Secondly, that was never really the intention of the comma, and thirdly, speaking is not writing. Do you use semicolons when you talk? Stop it. Stop it right now.

6. Its Friday and nobody brought any donuts. I am sad. Although, this may be for the better because I would probably just throw it up anyway, and that would make me really sad.

7. Stop telling me how busy you are! I am busy too! But I am doing what I need to do, not going off on everybody about how busy I am. Also? I am not your personal assistant. I do not have to drop everything I am doing (which is important whether you get it or not) to help you. Get over yourself.

8. The fleas are our new overlords. They win. I have tried everything. I am cramming brewers yeast down the dogs throats, I'm washing sheets and dog blankets everyday, I am vacuuming with mothballs in the vacuum bag every day, then throwing away the bag. My floors have been salted so often you could salt a margarita glass. I have dusted the mattress and the couches and sprayed the yard every two weeks for 2 months. The dogs have been bathed in lemon joy, dipped with that organic orange smelling stuff, and sprayed with tea tree oil (have you ever smelled that stuff? Its godawful). They stink and they have the worst gas I have ever smelled in my life. And still we have fleas. What the hell kind of mutant fleas are these? They should be dead. Instead I am about to have to be committed because my only other option is to BURN DOWN the house and the yard and all of our stuff, and start over.

So, its Friday, I'm cranky, I'm hungry and nauseous and limp, and clearly I needed to get things off my chest. On the plus side, its Friday, no one got fired for the first time in weeks, and there are three excellent Netflix selections waiting for me to get home and set up camp on the couch with the puppies and the husband. But swear to God, if he denies me the chance to watch movies because he is playing the Game Cube or because we have to watch the Razorbacks fail on an epic scale (we suck this year-we are going to lose any major conference game. There's only so much I can stand), there may not be a husband any longer.

My life is a low budget indie film...

2008-09-23T11:25:00.002-05:00

You know how a lot (ALOT) of independent films sort of suck because they are basically like real life with one or two surreal moments thrown in that have nothing to do with anything and the movie is basically depressing and boring because its too much an exact imitation of real life, except trying to make some really obvious point in a really pretentious way?

That's my life.

The other night I was picking up laundry detergent in Target (I may also have bought some running clothes, and some sleepwear, and some underpants...) and I was just minding my own business, thinking and walking (my friends really should not let me do that, its more dangerous than drinking and driving) when I walked directly into an ENORMOUS man in a kilt. With the shirt with the medals or whatever on it and the boots and some strappy things across his chest. We said excuse me to each other and continued on. Which is fine for him, I'm sure he sees medium height women in jeans and t shirts everyday. But I was completely non-chalant and I NEVER see men in full on Scottish garb (is Scottish correct by the way? Are we supposed to say Scots or Scotsman or some such? I know Scotch is wrong, that's the drink...). Anyway, WHY oh why did I NOT ask the man about his attire? Now I am dying to know. What if the story was awesome? What if it was something like, he got drunk at a friend's wedding in Edinborough and woke up on a plane crossing the Atlantic decked out in traditional garb with some random bridesmaid with haggis breath or something?

But no. Like those bad indie movies, I just acted like there was nothing unusual in it and now the audience is sitting there going, wtf? What is that supposed to mean?

My trash might have been your treasure!

2008-09-15T14:23:00.003-05:00

Hello! How was your weekend? Mine was fine, thank you. I spent my time alternately watching the weather channel for news of the weather in Houston, and how we would be impacted by Hurricane Ike, and trying unsuccesfully to convince strangers that they really, really needed the purple chenille rug that I used in my dorm room in college (complete with 8 year old college dust and fuzzies! You need it, too! Apparently, I have not always been as OCD as I am today).

Yard sales are a funny thing. Its demoralizing to realize that while you may have paid upwards of $100 on a stereo, the general public believes they should be able to obtain it from you for around a nickel. But its also uplifting to realize that someone is willing to give you $5 for something you were prepared to toss in the trash.

Also, the people who frequent yardsales are endlessly amusing. My favorite from Saturday: a woman in a long black skirt, button down blue shirt, and white collar, with a gray headcovering like a novitiate. But, as I found out when I chased her down as she was leaving (in order to donate somethings) she was not a nun. No explanation was forthcoming for the garb, just, "I'm not a nun." So...nun impersonator! At my yard sale! That we decided to have on a weekend with wild tornadoes, etc. as a result of winds from Ike!

You wish you were me, don't you?

While I'm Bitching Today

2008-09-08T15:07:00.002-05:00

Let me throw in a little I Hate You Health Advantage while I'm at it. When the doctor prescribes a medication to prevent severe and debilitating pain I don't really consider it ELECTIVE to take that medication. Seriously? My choices are to be in extreme pain or to pay 80 bajillion dollars for a medication?

Basically, I am screwed either way, and I STILL don't get to enjoy it.

FLEE

2008-09-08T12:20:00.002-05:00

Fleas are of the devil. They are evil and I hate them even more than roaches. That is a lot of hate. They are small and fast and impossible to kill and they are keeping me awake at night because both dogs are shaking the damn bed with the chewing and the licking and the slurping. Ugh.

I have sprayed my yard. Three times.
I have sprayed my carpet. Twice.
I have sprayed the dogs. Eleventy gazillion times.
Still.

Still with the fleas. I am running out of options here, people. Yesterday, my mom told me about a friend of hers who had to deal with the problem by spraying her dog, PUTTING IT IN A GARBAGE BAG, and waiting for the fleas to run to the dog's head, where she manually picked them off. There is no way I would ever be able to get either of my dog's in a garbage bag. One would fight hard enough, but they can work together when they want to, and then...they are like RAPTORS people. It's frightening.

Please. Send help before the fleas take over my body.

I swear I will get off of American politics eventually

2008-09-08T09:19:00.000-05:00

Okay, I officially don’t like Palin. Apparently, she tried to have books removed from the public library and then attempted to have the head librarian fired when she would not comply.

I also don’t like the way this appears to be going in interviews. All the McCain camp has done is question Barack Obama’s experience. But when questioned about Sarah Palin’s experience? The response is that the questions are “over the line.” Seriously? They are going to use the fact that she’s a woman to avoid answering any pertinent questions.

I call bullshit.

I Give Up

2008-08-29T12:29:00.003-05:00

I really didn't want to like Obama. It felt like jumping on a bandwagon, like he was just saying too many of the right things (if it seems to good to be true, it probably is), and I really didn't want to base my vote on a purely emotional reaction to the man's speeches.

But hot damn he has some good ideas and he's not afraid to at least try. He really is something different, and its so refreshing. It feels good to be reminded of what America used to be about. About hope and dreaming big and working hard.

I like Biden. I like many of Obama's policy ideas. Will he be able to accomplish all of it? Probably not. But if he accomplished one tenth of what he wants to, we'd still be in better shape than we are now.

So. Obama 08. Woohoo!

How could you not love it here? Always free entertainment available.

2008-08-27T09:45:00.003-05:00

My neighborhood is one of those neighborhoods where the area we live in is pretty nice, with lots of older people and families. We are about 3 blocks from a historic neighborhood, which is great for my running because the streets are shady, its low traffic, the sidewalks are nice, and the houses are interesting. Of course, we are also about 3 blocks from several low income housing apartment complexes, duplexes, etc. We do have some crime in the area and we hear sirens in the neighborhood a few times a month. My mother is petrified (its not the projects, but it might as well be as far as she is concerned).

But I love this neighborhood.

Last night I ran into the 24 hour Walgreens down the street to grab about 6 gallons of shampoo and some prettifying products (and possibly a bag of chips). As I am getting ready to pay a woman comes in the front door in her head wrap, her bathrobe, and her slippers (I am assuming she was wearing a nightgown underneath). She had forgotten a bag from when she was in earlier, and remembered it apparently about the time she was ready for bed. I know this because she told the ENTIRE store. And she was laughing, and I was laughing, and the woman in the silk blouse and designer shoes was laughing...everyone was laughing. It was completely bizarre, but it was a good kind of crazy. And that's the kind of stuff that happens in my neighborhood pretty regularly.

How could I leave all that?

The Most G-Rated Sex Related Rant on the Internet. Bet.

2008-08-25T14:39:00.002-05:00

Attention, Ladies (you will know who you are)!

We need to chat. Now, I may be seriously crazy here, and have, in fact been told by many, many, many, many, many various male friends, relatives, and husbands (well, only the one husband. Who do I look like? Liz Taylor?) that I actually think more like a guy, so bitch slap me if you must...but there are a few things I think we need to get straight.

1. When you are constantly checking up on your man, checking his call log, accusing him of cheating on you, blah, blah, blah-you are exponentially increasing the odds of the guy cheating on you. Think about it. Nobody likes to get in trouble for something they didn't do. At some point, a lot of people are going to say, "You know what? She's already constantly mad at me for cheating when I'm not, so what the hell." Please do not cry to me about this any more. I would like to feel sorry for you, but there are too many girls who get treated badly without this irritating behavior, and I am saving my sympathy for them.

2. Dear God, please stop bitching that your husband wants to have sex. This is a part of the deal. He does want to sleep with you more than 3 times a year (his birthday, Valentine's Day, and Christmas). He has every right to expect that you also want to sleep with him at least on a weekly (hell, even monthly) basis. If the guy wanted to practice celibacy he would have become a priest (or stayed single). Why are you upset about this? Here's the thing-I understand maybe you have a low...drive...for that particular activity. Medication, life, whatever causes this to happen to all of us. However, there are other...activities...that will make him happy, as long as you pretend to be at least a little enthusiastic when you...participate...in these...activities. Seriously, honey, he is not unreasonable. You are gonna have to compromise in some way.

3. If he constantly does something in bed that you hate? Please quit telling ME, because I cannot do anything about it. Perhaps you should tell...I don't know...HIM?! Possibly because you act like you like it and never tell him you don't like it, he is under the impression that you actually do like it, and that's why he keeps doing it (THE NERVE!).

4. Speaking of pretending you like things? Stop faking please. You are confusing them, and you make them sort of neurotic for the next girl.

This has been a public service announcement.

As you were.

Holy Mary Mother of God. Somebody hold me.

2008-08-22T16:16:00.002-05:00

I went to visit a friend and her spawn last night (cutest spawn, ever, by the way). It was the first time I had been to her house (I am a great friend! She's lived there more than 2 years! Now you wish I was YOUR friend!) Anyway, now I know why I haven't been out there.

You know you live in a rural state when the directions could read look for Dueling Banjos, go about two miles, and turn left at You Shore Do Got a Purty Mouth, and you could still find your way with almost no problems. Seriously, I had to stop for gas and I was waiting for the clown from House of a Thousand Corpses to take my money (Consolation prize: the woman who actually took my money was not dressed as a greasy clown, but she was missing all of her top teeth!) As I was pumping gas I kept waiting for the Children of the Corn to pop out of the woods.

Basically, I lived through every horror movie I have ever watched on this trip. Nothing actually happened to me, and yet I am thisclose to sitting under my desk rocking myself and singing the Pinochle song

....the worms go in, the worms go out, the worms play Pinochle in your mouth...

I think the moral of this tale of absolutely nothing is that I should stop watching horror movies and reading scary stories.

On the other hand, that trip would have been really boring otherwise...(except for the cutest baby in the history of all cute babies ever. I think she is trying to lure me into motherhood. That might be scarier than the horror movies).

My Space: High School v.2.0

2008-08-21T15:44:00.002-05:00

So. I have a shameful secret. God, it's just so awful...okay, here goes.

I am 26 years old and I have a My Space page. I can't ever bring myself to actually check it, but I have one (Peer Pressure! I still haven't learned to Just Say No!)

Initially, I thought, hey, maybe I can get back in touch with people I haven't seen in years and it will be awesome! But then...I remembered why I didn't keep in touch with these people in the first place. I log on and I start looking around. And suddenly, hey isn't that the girl who told everyone in high school I was a slut? And she has 800 friends! And I only have 34! I lose. And isn't that the guy I humiliated myself over and he told everyone? And what is he, married to a supermodel? And...didn't that chick once try to tell everyone my best friend had sex with the baseball team? And that guy used to smack my ass every day! And that girl told me she couldn't wait till I was fat! Log off! Log off!

I log on as a rational, reasonably confident, reasonably happy woman and I log off a quivering, neurotic mass of 16 year old insecurities. In my day to day life I feel that I am pretty well past the shitty things people did in high school. It was high school, after all, where the most important thing we learn is that sometimes life sucks for LONG STRETCHES AT A TIME and we all did something shitty at one time or another (intentionally or not). But I must not be completely over it, because whenever I am on My Space and see those people, I am right back there again in high school. Except with more glitter.

There's one girl who has been counting down to the 10 year reunion since graduation day. The thing is, I always thought I would go so I could SHOW THEM. But show them what? Why do I care if that guy who broke my heart sees me with my husband? Do I think he'll be jealous and realize what he missed? Do I care if he does? I didn't marry Michael to get back at ex-boyfriends. And will it really make me happy if I'm more successful than that brown-nosing little bitch who thought she was so much better than me? What is the measure of success, after all? And does it make me feel good to want other people to feel bad? Not really. That's not who I want to be.

But still...I'm pretty sure it will be really fun to tell that girl who wants me to be fat to kiss my skinny ass.

Bonus Awesome Business Name

2008-08-18T11:33:00.002-05:00

Tobacco, Clothes, & More!

Yes, the punctuation is part of the title. I would go in to see what kind of clothes might be purchased in a tobacco shop (and what the "more" might entail) but...I'm a little frightened. What if its not nearly as awesome as it sounds? The disappointment could kill me.

Boooooooorrrrrrreeeeeddddddddd

2008-08-18T10:45:00.002-05:00

1. How tall are you barefoot?
If I stand up straight on my left foot I'm 5'7. If I stand up straight on my right foot I'm a little over 5'6.

2. Favorite movies?
True Romance, Garden State, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

3. Do you own a gun?
Janie's got a gun, but I don't. Unless you count the shotgun Michael keeps in the closet.

4. Who is your biggest enemy?
I'm a lover not a fighter.

5. Favorite Scent?
Honeysuckle and fresh cut grass. Or coffee, even though I don't drink it.

6. Do you like hot dogs?
Do you know what they put in those? Gross.

7. What’s your favourite Christmas song?
O Holy Night and What Child is This

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning?
Diet Dr. Pepper

9. Do you do sit-ups?
If they ever want to torture information out of me, the quickest way to do it would be to make me do situps. So that would be a no.

10. Brothers & sisters?
No, thank you

11. What’s your most liked piece of Jewelry?
Either the pearls that my mother got from her first husband and then gave to my husband to give to me as a wedding gift, or the wooden bangle bracelets my aunt gave me from her time as a regular at the go-go clubs.

12. What do you take for pain relief?
I don't take anything unless its after surgery pain relief and then I take all of whatever they give me.

13. What is your secret weapon to lure in the opposite sex?
My husband frowns on my attempts to lure the opposite sex.

14. Do you own a knife?
I have a set of steak knives that were ordered from some infomercial. So, yes, I own many knives.

15. Do you have A.D.D.?
Can you develop this as an adult? Because I didn't used to, but now my attention span is...look! Something shiny!

16. Middle name?
Jayne. After my Granny Jane, except fancier.

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment.
My thoughts don't have names-should they? Cell phones should be banned in the office-if I have to listen to that chick's phone ring inspirational music one more time I will be decidedly unChristian about it. What am I going to have for lunch?

18. Name the last 3 things you have bought.
A new to me top at Goodwill, a vintage purse, and contact lenses

19. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink
Diet Dr. Pepper, water, green tea

20. What time did you wake up today?
6 a.m, 6:15 a.m., 6:30 a.m., 6:45 a.m., and 7 a.m.

21. Current worry?
My mother's continued joblessness and the odds of her moving into my house with me where I live

22. Current hate?
Why we all gotta hate? Why can't we all just get along? Everyone join me in a rousing chorus of Imagine now.

23. Your favorite place to be?
Porch swing, fall weather, good book

24. Least favorite place to be?
My cubicle. Its pink. Its really, really pink. Who decided to make pink cubicle dividers, really?
Maybe that's who I hate.

25. Where would you like to go?
Sicily

26. Do you own slippers?
I used to. Then the dog ate them. So I replaced them. Lather rinse repeat about 5 times. Currently, I own no slippers nor do I intend to until the damn dog's teeth fall out.

27. What shirt are you wearing?
A green one with brown hippie style embroidery on it.

28. Do you burn or tan?
I tan when I think about the sun. In fact, I have not found a sunblock yet that keeps me from tanning. Leather bag face here I come!

29. Least favourite color?
Pink.

30. Would you be a pirate?
Who wouldn't?

31. Last time you had an alcoholic drink?
I can't remember. What the hell?

32. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Somewhere over the Rainbow is in heavy demand at the moment. Also, the itsy bitsy spider.

33. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child?
Rapists, murderers, and the ghost of Elvis (my hand to God this is true).

34. What’s in your pockets right now?
I've got something in my pocket....its a great big Brownie smile!

35. Last thing that made you smile?
I smile a lot. Its like baby smiles. It doesn't really mean anything. Except maybe gas...

36. Best bed sheets you had as a child?
I had no interesting bed sheets. Although, in my dreams it was New Kids on the Block Sheets.

37. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
I had a car wreck and sliced my chin open on...something?...and had to have 18 stitches in my face.

38. What is your favorite pet?
Sunny, the sweet one that does not eat house shoes or pee in my house or steal my underpants.

39. How many TV’s do you have in your house?
Two, but just one with cable.

40. Who is your loudest friend?
Miss M, you know I'm looking at you.

41. Who is your most silent friend?
The other Miss M, you know I'm looking at you.

42. Does someone have a crush on you?
Sure, why the hell not?

43. Do you wish on stars?
Only shooting stars

44. What is your favorite book?
The list would go on forever, but I have re-read A Prayer for Owen Meany and East of Eden the most times.

45. What is your favourite candy?
Peanut butter filled Hersheys bars, which, thankfully, they do not appear to make any longer.

46. What song do/did you want played at your wedding?
Louis Armstrong What a Wonderful World, Etta James At Last, Billie Holiday It Had to be You. I am a cliche.

47. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Wonderful World Louis Armstrong

48. What were you doing at 12 a.m. last night?
Hiding from a stalker who was trying to kill me and watching from the third story window while my neighbor shoveled dead rabbits into my yard...

49. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up?
Please stop chewing your butt! There are no tootsie rolls up there!

50. Do you have a favorite charity?
Yes, but its local and you haven't heard of it...its called Stewpot, which is a sort of travelling soup kitchen. It goes around to all the local soup kitchens and a few other areas.

Personal Hair Designs

2008-08-17T15:37:00.001-05:00

This is the name of what I assume is a hair salon in my neighborhood. Am I the only one who thinks it sounds vaguely...odd?

No Controlled Substances Were Used During the Creation of This Post. Although, You Might Want Some When You're Done

2008-08-14T15:59:00.004-05:00

6:00 a.m. %$##%#$%*(&%^$@#$%^

6:15 a.m. !!@#$%^$%@#$%^&^&*

6:30 a.m. $%^#@%@#%^*^%^

(Usually, this is the point where Michael gets hit in the head with my pillow, because, DUDE! Turn off your &*!!@# alarm already!)

7:00 a.m. I'm up. I'm...on the floor. OK. OK. Only x days till you can take a break. Dogs. Pee. Outside.

7:30 a.m. dum dumd dum dum I'M THAT GIRL YOU LIKE dum do do deed do do...I'M THAT GIRL YOU LIKE. (Yes, I sing horrible pop songs I don't know the words to at the top of my lungs in the car on the way to work. Occassionally, I pause to swear at other drivers and fuss for a few seconds, but then its back to the bad pop really loudly). That guy is totally laughing at me. Screw him! Loudness is the key! Someday I will be discovered on my daily commute to work and then I will win a grammy and I will TOTALLY CALL HIM OUT in my acceptance speech for laughing. THAT WILL SHOW HIM).

8:00 a.m. ....

10:30 a.m. God its humid today. Maybe we will start to develop gills as the next step in our evolutionary process. Like Kevin Costner in Waterworld, except without drinking pee. That's so gross. I would like to be like a lungfish, that's kind of cool. Except, more attractive than a lungfish...wait, is that arrogant? No. I'm pretty sure its acceptable to consider yourself more attractive than a lungfish, that's just fact. Unless you ask a lungfish...

1:00 p.m. Burger and fries! Burger and fries! Burger and fries!

1:10 p.m Shit. Why do I always come here? The Wendy's Wench always hands me my burger and fries. She's judging me. I know she is. Those cannot be real, seriously. But they are awesome. Would it be weird if I asked the name of her doctor? Probably. Besides, I can't think about the plastic surgery thing. I'd end up looking like Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers' love child and then my nose would fall off. That would suck.

1:30 p.m. Burger and fries are probably why I have a natural muffin top. I think I am the only person on the planet who takes off her pants and still has the muffin top. How can my waist and thighs be bigger than my hips? That can't be right. Wendy's Wench probably doesn't even have a muffin top in evil low rise jeans. I kind of hate her.

2:00 p.m Hi ho hi ho its back to work I go...whistling while I work is not helpful. Damn Dwarves lied to me...

3:00 p.m Hi! My name is Joe. I have a wife and 3 kids and I work in a button factory. One day, my boss comes to me and says Joe are you busy I says no. Turn this button with your right hand...Should he actually be turning the buttons? I mean, they make the buttons right? So, when you get them from that factory they are actually used buttons. No offense, Joe, but I don't want a button that has had your foot all over it...

5:00 p.m Home! Going home! OK, to do: Call Mom, decide what to cook, thaw meat while running, cook, work on thesis, tv, bed.

5:30 p.m. Okay, lard ass, put on your running clothes. Burger and fries and muffin tops, oh my, remember?

6:00 p.m Breathebreathebreathebreathebreathebreathebreathe, 1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2,1,2...(yes, I count steps while running, it helps me keep my pace).

Its pretty much downhill from here. I think about dinner (raw meat is disgusting. Its not that hard to be a vegetarian when you have to cook dinner for the carnivore on the couch). I watch tv or read or work on my thesis, and I take a bath and I go to bed. The dog wakes me up at 3 a.m like clockwork. Then I go back to bed. Where I dream insane things about meeting up with someone who's blog I read and her husband and she fight and have sex in front of me and take me to odd non-existent places and then I wake up and start all over.

Don't you wish you were me? Good Lord.

This post will totally make you want a dog. Really.

2008-08-12T22:31:00.004-05:00

People keep telling me, "Meg, your dogs are not hunters. They are modern dogs, all that has been bred out of them."

To which I reply, "I don't think anyone told them that..." Of course, I know you can't tell them anything, really. I mean, I tell one of them all the time that you cannot actually survive on meals composed of underpants and Mama's best shoes, but she just continues to ignore me.

So, I tried to tell the toads. One night as Sunny, Duchess of Everything, was chasing the toads around the yard, I said, "Not to worry, Toad. She is not a hunting dog." The toad was strangely uncomforted.

Then I tried with the opossum the tank we call "Stormy" cornered in the yard. I said, "Please stop hissing and spitting, O Creepy One. She is a modern dog. Modern dogs do not have hunting instincts. " But I don't think the opossum could hear me over the snarls of fury, because it continued to hiss and spit.

I also suspect all the "presents" I have been given would not feel comforted by this news (that's 8 million baby rabbits, 6 thousand toads, 1 and 1/2 birds, an uncountable number of bugs, 1 lizard, and 1 rat for those of you playing along at home-as an aside within an aside, can I just say, if you can manage to get my dogs to listen to you maybe you could suggest Tiffany's for presents in the future? That would be much appreciated).

So, to sum up, please stop telling me my dogs are not hunters. Clearly, you are making it worse and they feel the need to overcompensate to prove to me that they are, indeed, hunters. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go dispose of a rat.*

(* Seriously, this made even my very manly, not bothered by anything husband shudder uncontrollably. RAT!!!)

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

2008-08-11T12:03:00.004-05:00

Secret Work Vocabulary:

Make me a copy of this: v. to save photos to Photoshop, edit, arrange, create PDF file, print 6 copies of photos, and give to the woman who is working on the semi-annual status report.

How is that coming?: v. Hurry and give this to me even though I only asked for it 5 minutes ago and its a 2 hour project. Syn: Why aren't you done with this yet?

Are you busy?: Syn: I have something for you to do, I don't really care if you are busy.

Priority: n. As in: this is a priority. Generally, untrue. Syn: I'm more important than everyone else; I have no patience and don't want to wait my turn because I'm more important than everyone else; I like the word priority.

Team: n. A group of people who claim credit for one person's work.

NYC

2008-08-06T18:32:00.012-05:00

Michael and I took approximately 8 million pictures between so I just loaded a sample. Mostly its just pictures, because a picture is worth a thousand words. All of these were taken by Michael because I still like old fashioned film cameras, and I am too lazy to scan them in.

Anniversary dinner. Um, we split a bottle of wine, and that is the only explanation I have for this face...(Aside:we have a picture of a man we don't know out on the dance floor doing the MOST ENTHUSIASTIC old white guy dance ever. It was awesome.)

Fabulous Greek restaurant that was not as expensive as we thought it would be. If you are here, go to Kellari's.

Self explanatory I'm sure, but anyway, Strawberry Fields. Also, represents one of my all time favorite songs ever.

Greenwhich Village, which was our favorite place in the city, and where we plan to stay next time. (Clarification: we are not planning to stay in this bar, just in the neighborhood. Hi! I get paid to write for a living!) We found a great little place for empanadas, unfortunately, we never actually got the name of the place. But the bartender is an Asian Vietnam vet, and definitely worth visiting with. We did not get his name either. Because names are obviously unimportant in our world-seriously, if we'd gotten his name neither of us would have remembered it 30 seconds later. We are bad people.

MOMA. Me and Girl with a Ball. I believe we had not been here long, and I was recovering from the overheard bum conversation in the line outside. It's probably good I'm blurry.

(Conversation consisted of the guy talking out loud to himself about how he didn't think something looked like ecstasy, didn't look like X to him at all).

Yankees game. The Orioles won. Which, yay I guess. I don't really care about the Orioles, but I hate the Yankees. We mostly went because this is the last season in the house that Ruth built.

The subway ride was interesting, but even with all the people in New York touching my ass, preferable to the death defying cab rides to and from the airport.

Brooklyn Bridge. I really have nothing to add to this. No one tried to sell it to us (thank you, I'm here all week).

Times Square. The world's monument to advertising and consumerism.

We had such a wonderful time. We ate the city, pretty much, so if you are headed there, sorry. (In all seriousness, also eat at Ipanema, where you can feed your entire family all the fish in the ocean for $20 and they are seriously awesome). We stayed at the Muse hotel, which was fine, but not really anything special. Although, if you have any problems with the toilet they will send an Eastern European man to yell at you about the wet floor.

Oh yeah- one last semi-interesting thing. Apparently, I am about 12 in New York years. I have not been carded this much ever. I mean, I get carded at home all the time, but not like this. This was insane. Also, they all seemed to think my id was false, because they would peer at me suspiciously and ask me information from the card. What really killed people was the fact that Michael and I have been married for three years. Michael finally asked one group, how old do you think she is? And, my hand to God, the guy was totally serious when he said 15. FIFTEEN! (Please understand, I am neither insulted nor flattered by this, just really, really incredulous).

So! Go to New York where the bums are much creepier, street vendors will pick fights with you, men from Eastern Europe will yell at you about how you need to get the water off the floor with a mop or wet vac (good thing I stuck that in the carry on at the last minute!), and you will look younger than most of the teenagers!

I Honestly Think "Bitch" Would Be Better

2008-08-05T16:32:00.002-05:00

You know, I work in a male dominated field. Also, I'm young and, while not what you would call girly, I AM feminine. I try to downplay it, but it's there. It's just part of who I am. So I accept a certain amount of honeys and sweeties and darlin's in general conversation with clients. Today, however, we have reached a new low.

Babydoll. Some guy I've never met just called me babydoll.

New rule: if you are not married to me, and you call me anything similar to any of the above mentioned words (including but not limited to honeybun, sweetheart, cutie pie, and baby), you will henceforth be known as "That Jackass."*

*Maybe not to your face, though, because I like my job. Or at least, I like my paycheck.

First Day Back

2008-08-04T16:50:00.002-05:00

Before lunch I edited about 8 reports...all with the words chrushing and relinguished in them, and all with the longest run-on sentences known to man. When I left, they were using an illegal amount of commas. Now they are boycotting all punctuation.

Lovely.

What I Would Be Doing if I Weren't Going to be in NYC

2008-07-27T18:54:00.002-05:00

1. Editing about 20 reports by guys who can spell "polychlorinated biphenyl" in their sleep, but are determined that they "chrush" drums in the "chrusher."

2. Thinking, why, so, many, commas?

3. Writing a transaction screen. Stream of consciousness while this occurs: Site geology-no one reads this part. I bet I could say supercallifragalisticexpealidotious and no one would ever notice. Government records-geez, who knew so many places were so dirty? This place has had 8 billion gasoline releases. Thanks for pouring it down the storm drain, guys, would you like to set my paycheck on fire while I watch too? I wish that chick would get off the cell phone. She's not supposed to be selling makeup while she's here anyway. Probably why she loses all my invoices. And has to have everyone help her with billing because she is always on the cell phone. Is it time for lunch yet...

4. Pause to answer the phone. Typical conversation:

(Insert name of company here) may I help you?
I'm sorry she's on the other line. Would you like her voice mail?
No, sir, I do not know how long she will be...(do I sound like the Psychic Network?)
I understand sir that you just talked to her a few minutes ago, but she has called someone else now...

5. Scan some closed files. I really, really need my degree for this because just any monkey with an opposable thumb could not handle it.

Is it time for lunch yet?

6. More editing...seriously, they will not run out of commas, you do not have to use them all. Also, I am pretty sure some of these words are MADE UP. (Looking in dictionary). Yes, they are in fact not words at all. If I left them, would anyone else actually notice?

7. Write a Phase I, all the same thoughts apply.

8. Answer bizarre questions related to computer programs such as, how do you insert an extra line into an Excel document, and how do you make the letters bigger, and how do you attach a document? (Our partners are a little...computer challenged).

So, you can see, I deserve to go to New York and celebrate my 3rd anniversary and not have to tell someone (who is serious) that yes, one of our partners does have the same name as a famous lounge singer, but no, he is not actually the lounge singer, and no, I would not recommend teasing him about this.

So long suckers

2008-07-27T16:31:00.003-05:00

I am going to New York tomorrow. This makes me better than you and also cooler, despite the fact that I could probably act out Heathers for you, with all the lines correct.

One of my dogs is a vicious killer.

This is her:

Frightening, no?

She may be psychotic. I don't know if you remember a couple years ago when I was complaining of a gift my other dog gave me in the form of dead baby bird. At the time, I thought there was nothing worse to be given. Um...yes, I was wrong. Do you know what's worse?

Half a bird.

The little nutjob up there brought me half of a dead bird. One moment while I stop myself from thinking about what happened to the OTHER half of the bird....

Anyway, I think that was some kind of warning sign and we stupidly ignored it. (Other signs include the whole sale destruction of my underwear, shoes, computers, etc and the various bug bodies I have stepped in recently in various stages of dismemberment). The next week someone left our gate open and the little shit did her version of "Born Free" (which is pretty similar, except chubbier). Some random teen across the street was helping me round her up. He caught up to her first and bent to pick her up. She apparently did not WANT to be picked up so she bit him. Right across the nose. Which began to bleed like a stab wound. I think she's escalating her behavior and I'm frightened. The other night I dreamed she was actually a shark that could walk around on her fins and didn't need to be kept in water.

I'll have to tell my mom to sleep with one eye open while she is watching the dogs, or she might wake up with that face hovering above her and a knife in the ribs.

I think "thesis" is the Latin for "Evil in the Form of Paper"

2008-07-22T16:49:00.002-05:00

Arggghghhghghghghghghghghgh.

I cannot even get the %$&*!! thing constructed because it is un-possible and I would like to quit, except my OCD will not let me quit and also ARG.

I am constructing a model shower which should not be that complicated, except I want to introduce really harsh chemicals so I cannot use metals or the tubing that is easily accessible. Have you ever tried to make a shower head out of something that will spray water, not drip water, without any metal being present? Also the tubing I need can only be obtained by kneeling in the dark of the moon on the third Saturday after Mercury is in retrograde and singing the entire Star Spangled Banner backwards and upside down. And then there are the three advisors who keep telling me three different answers to one question.

Thank goodness we are going to New York next week or I'd just go ahead and move into the crawl space and start plotting against the neighbors.

It doesn't help that its about 1100 degrees here and I have no air conditioning on my 30-45 minute commute. I'm pretty sure that if Hannibal Lecter were going to eat my liver it would already be fully cooked, and he could just worry about the fava beans being done. My point is, this is not something that is conduciveness to thinkiness or being smart or even conscious.

Now who wants to send me $400 USD to get my air fixed? Bueller? Bueller? Anyone? Bueller?

Someday I will post here and not bitch and piss and moan. And someday I'll also have more money than debt, a graduate degree, a promotion, and world peace. So take that as you will.

I think the histamines might have been holding me together

2008-06-26T12:16:00.003-05:00

I have had an ear ache off and on for the past month, so I decided to go to the doctor. You would think this was a good idea, but I have my doubts.

First, I of course waited the requisite 12 times as long as the appointment would actually take. Then he told me I was confused, my ears weren't bothering me but I had congestion and allergies (apparently he could tell by looking in my ears? I'm unclear on how or why he arrived at this diagnosis). Anyway, I thought it was a little odd, because I hadn't noticed anything particularly wrong with anything other than my ears, but whatever, he has a medical degree (possibly from Tahiti!) So I took the samples he gave me and paid them their $20 for looking in my ear with a flashlight for all of 2 minutes,went home, and I have been taking my medicine like a good little drone. And I today I feel like crap.

I think I would like my $20 co-pay back now.

Bonus Quackery!

The pills that he gave me were an antihistamine thing he has samples of, so I got the meds for free. Unfortunately, the samples don't come with the handy fact sheet you get at the pharmacy. The fact sheet that tells you what not to take with the meds, what side effects to look out for etc. Side effects like confusion, trouble thinking, incoherency, hallucinations (*FORESHADOWING).

Know what you aren't supposed to take this with? Anti-depressants. The same anti-depressant I got a re-fill for while at the SAME APPOINTMENT. Guess what happens when you take them together? Increased confusion, trouble thinking, incoherency, hallucinations (**MORE FORESHADOWING).

Honestly, I thought I was okay, that I dodged a bullet so to speak, until I was actually required to think and do work today. Generally, I don't have to stare at the copier for 10 minutes wondering why nothing is happening (you have to put the original in and hit the button...TOO HARD TODAY). Also, my mother called and in the course of conversation asked me if I was high. Because I was talking non-sense. Because I was talking non-sense in a very floaty, dreamy voice.

Yea gods I need a new doctor.

I would call it Good Idea, Bad Idea but I don't think I've had any good ideas today

2008-06-09T15:17:00.008-05:00

Bad Ideas I Have Had Today:

*Two hours of sleep is plenty. I do not need to call in, I can take some diet pills.

*Taking two diet pills. Basically, I went through a few hours of my heart beating faster than a hummingbird on crack only to crash and feel worse than I did in the first place. Probably the fact that I HAVE diet pills is a bad idea, considering the whole anorexia thing.

*This shirt I am wearing, which is constricting my ability to breathe, and probably not helping with the so tired I am dizzy and about to pass out thing. Also, I keep seeing people out of the corners of my eyes. People who are not there. Hallucinating: not as much fun as you think it would be.

*Speaking.

*Lying down at lunch. Lying down at lunch in my car. Lying down at lunch in my car that has no air conditioning. Lying down at lunch in my car that has no air conditioning when it is 300 degrees outside. And humid. Humid like I imagine the arm pit of a 700 pound hairy man to be humid. You know, wet and suffocating and gross. I am no mathmagician, but I am thinking overdose of caffeine, plus extreme heat and sweating, equals the worst idea I have had today. For some reason, I am not feeling all that refreshed.

*Breathing.

EDIT: I do not know why this won't format the way I want. At this point, I do not give a rat's furry heiny, though.

2008-05-29T10:44:00.002-05:00

Five Things In My Possession That Are Incredibly Embarrassing

1. About sleventy thousand Beyer's horses, along with an entire collection of Saddle Club Books. This wouldn't seem so bad if it didn't remind me of how I was "the Horse Girl" in my class. Also, it reminds me how a couple of other girls and I started a horse club. We held meetings. I find this sad.

2. A letter written by my oldest friend and me when we were about 10 years old. I have blocked out much of it, but I do recall seeing the phrases "Fight against Lucifer" and "Thank you for being a valuable resource." The gist was, we felt we should boycott certain television shows, as they were apparently against family values. Such shows included (but were not limited to) The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (which I watched religiously, by the way, and which...wuh? There was nothing wrong with that show), My Two Dads (which I watched religiously), Empty Nest (loved it), some commercials for Pepe Jeans and Bugle Boy (????), and the best one, in my opinion, wait for it. Wait. For. It........

Star Search. What. The Hell. Was My Problem?!

(Bonus embarrassing fun: we thought more acceptable programming would include the Dick Van Dyke show, Patty Duke, and the Honeymooners. Yes. We thought a show where a guy constantly threatens to punch his wife promoted better family values than a show where a wealthy family takes in their nephew so he can get a good education.)

3. Adolescent poetry. I do not believe this needs any further explanation. In fact, if I have to talk about it, I may prove that it actually is possible to die from embarrassment.

4. Orange Candy's with wooden soles. These are the most uncomfortable shoes ever made. I bought them when they first came out because I thought it would be "retro." Actually they are fairly cute shoes, but they are orange. Really orange. I do not recall what I wore them with, but I can say with 99.9% certainty that they didn't really go with whatever it was.

5. A mix tape with musical gems such as "This is How We Do It," "Lollipop," some Spice Girls, and also some Ace of Base ( I saw the sign, I opened up my eyes I saw the sign...).

Bonus embarrassing thing: Ace of Base reminded me that I still have my kneelength cheerleading uniform from 8th grade. I also have the cheerleading culottes uniform from 9th grade. I can still fasten them onto my body. I wouldn't say they fit, exactly, but I can get in them and zip them up. Anyway, the fun part of this story is that I remember when we begged our coach to let us do a routine to Ace of Base's I Saw the Sign. Permission denied, because Baptists believe that a bunch of undeveloped girls in knee length uniforms doing a stiff, uncoordinated routine to a bad pop song is the first step on a slippery slope toward fornication, greasy stripper poles, and illegitimate children. Clearly.

So, what do you still have that brings back embarrassing memories, or just is embarrassing in the first place?

Some complaints and then some thankfulnesses (what? that's the plural)

2008-05-21T19:24:00.004-05:00

Complaints (so we end on a happy note)

1. Racist guy at Walgreens. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but, no, it would seem you are just racist. Its not that I can't see your point so much as how much double standards of any kind are guaranteed to send me into conniptions. If its okay for you, its okay for me. But in real life, what seems to be okay for you is most definitely NOT okay for me.

2. Gas prices. 'Nuff said. If it wasn't 6 miles to my nearest bus stop I'd take public transportation. With the smelly cat people. But by the time I walk 6 miles to the station, ride the bus, and walk 6 miles to the office on Monday, it will actually be Wednesday. While I may be willing to ride with the smelly people, the scary people are a different story.

3. Stupid IBS. I hate the term IBS, too, it makes it sound like my bowels are merely displeased. They have gone way beyond "irritable" and are most assuredly PISSED OFF.

4. I locked my keys in my car. I have NEVER done this before. And not only did I lock my keys in my car, I made sure to do it the one day it was guaranteed to bring pissing and bitching and moaning from Michael.

5. The 5 creepy guys stalking me in their truck while I am trying to run. Seriously, its not cute, I am not going to suddenly notice how hot you are and voluntarily get in the truck, and its a little frightening that I am pretty sure 5 of you against 1 of me would win.

6. In fact, also the moron who barked like a dog to get my attention while I was running the other day. Dude, that's so not funny. Have you ever been chased by a large dog? I have. You almost gave me a heart attack.

7. In fact, everyone who honks, hoots, hollers, or otherwise tries to get my attention while I'm running. Firstly, I'm honestly not sure if you are trying to make fun of me or trying to hit on me, but either way, knock it off. By the way, I know what I look like when I run, so I'm leaning toward the mocking side of things. In which case, screw you, at least I'm trying. You couldn't run 6 miles if you were being chased by the aforementioned large dog.

8. Dude who speeded around me and cut me off in order to arrive at the stoplight 10 seconds before. What bothers me the most is I don't think you get how ridiculous this is.

9. For the love of Pete, people, yield means to slow down and look and wait. Not try to run the person with the right of way off the road.

10. Stupid no air conditioning in the damn car AGAIN. Seriously, I hate you.

11. Peanut butter filled Hershey's bars. You are the reason I can't get rid of this 13 pounds.

Thankfulnesses

1. Peanut butter filled Hershey's bars. You make life worth living.

2. We think maybe my mom found an affordable apartment and a part time job so she won't have to move in with us. This is still up in the air a bit, but its something.

3. Unexpected check from when I closed out my 401K at my other job to put towards my debt. Seriously awesome.

4. Guy who runs shirtless in my neighborhood. You are performing a public service. Seriously. Keep up the good work.

5. A husband who will bring me my spare set of keys even though it is the worst time in the world for him to have to do it. I can forgive the gnashing of the teeth, I guess. At least he did it.

6. People who have bought stuff from my e-Bay and Etsy stores. You are contributing to my mother not living with me. Can I kiss your feet. Would you like some of my peanut butter filled Hershey bar?

7. My dogs, who can make me laugh on my worst days.

8. Bibliolatry, which is mentioned in the sidebar, because she makes great recommendations and has recommended some great Gothic books.

9. Gothic books.

10. The new love seat. Or as my husband calls it, the Megan-sized sofa. Its perfect.

11. Awesome anniversary trip to New York. We were going to go to Scotland but then taxes, and my mom needing to move quickly from her apartment, and other unexpected expenses kind of put an end to that for now. But New York is totally awesome, too, and maybe this time I will get to see it in an enjoyable way, instead of as part of one of those tours where you run past everything at 90 miles an hour. Seriously, when I got home from that my mom asked me what I saw and I was like...um? I think there was a green blur that might have been the Statue of Liberty? And there are some playbills in my pocket, so maybe some Broadway plays? And I think the Eiffel Tower?*

There's more on both lists, but just thought I'd get some of it out of my head a little bit.

(*I know the Eiffel Tower is not in New York. Its a joke. Which is maybe not that funny since I feel the need to explain it. Oh well.)

We are not country, no not at all

2008-05-08T16:04:00.002-05:00

In case you ever wondered about the place I work, let me tell you a little story.

Firstly, imagine several of us standing around (the partners are gone, par---uh, we are still working really very hard) discussing critter problems. I was complaining about the 'possum that is definitely trying to give my dogs rabies, and my suicidal bunnies. Another woman was discussing her racoon problem.

So one of the guys wanted to help her set a trap to catch her 'coon. He was very excited about this. At one point he told her he was going to call her every couple of hours. Then he stated he would be willing to take the animal for...mysterious reasons, that ended with him realizing the racoon into the woods behind his house.

Ya'll. Ya'll.

He is going to eat it. He is going to eat the racoon. His wife is going to cook it (in a CROCKPOT) and they are going to eat it. Apparently, racoon is her favorite. Her FAVORITE.

And the sad part is? I am not all that appalled that they are going to eat the racoon. I have eaten it myself, at one of those functions where they serve "exotic" foods. The sad part is, I do not understand how it could be anyone's favorite thing to eat. It tastes neither all that good nor all that bad, but racoons are sort of cute and furry and actually quite smart, and I react to the idea of eating it much the same as if someone suggested I eat feral cat.

Which is to say, not no, but hell no, thanks anyway.

26

2008-05-05T12:35:00.002-05:00

Today I am officially closer to 30 than 20. I'm no longer in my early 20s, and being older is creeping up on me. Surprisingly, I don't mind that much. I have found that women in my family feel they were not their best until their 30s and 40s, and this has apparently inspired me to look forward to getting older, rather than dreading it. I am glad to leave 25 behind. There was lots of changing and growing, and anyone who knows me knows I don't particularly care to change or to grow, so there was also some pain and gnashing of the teeth. I am happy to be able to look back on it and see that the gnashing of the teeth was definitely worth it though, because really good things have come out of a lot of that pain.

Things that I expect to better at 26:

1. Body image. I have slowly been learning to appreciate my body for what it can do and not what it looks like. It took some uncomfortable health issues to get me here, but I can now look at myself and when I start to think, "My arms are so big," I can now turn it into a positive and say, "But that makes my right hook more impressive." My body can run, and punch, and contort into interesting non-human shapes, and this makes me happier than being a size 0. This also makes me more interesting that being a size 0.

2. Money. 25 was the year I decided to quit ignoring the huge hump under the rug that was my debt, and really look at what I owed and why. I have learned to recognize my compulsion to buy unnecessary things as exactly that, a compulsion. I have learned if I wait a week it doesn't feel so life or death to buy whatever it was I wanted in the 1st place. I have learned to save for things that I want, to live without credit cards, and to appreciate delayed gratification more than instant gratification. My debt isn't gone, but I am starting to see results, and hopefully it will be gone before I'm 30.

3. I've finally figured out what I want. Emotionally, career wise, spiritually, whatever. Some of what I want I am still working to realize is impossible, but I feel better wanting the impossible than not knowing what I want at all.

There are several smaller lessons I've learned this past year, but those are the big ones. How about you? Ever felt like your birthday was a true milestone, or are you like I usually am, where your birthdays haven't made you feel any different since you were a little kid?

You women who want your men to talk more? Are crazy.

2008-04-24T14:43:00.004-05:00

My husband went to the doctor last week to discuss some mild anti-anxiety/antidepressant like Zoloft.

There must have been a mix up at the pharmacy, and I think he actually ended up coming home with crack instead (you know how you can never read the doctor's handwriting).

I'm glad he is feeling so much better after only a little over a week, but do you people know how many times I've been dragged to Lowe's in the past 4 days? 4. 4 times in 4 days. Suddenly, he feels like doing all the home improvement stuff we've been putting off for a couple of years and it has to be done now now NOW. And every time we go to Lowe's he comes up with 18 more things he wants to do.

You guys, he has not shut up in over a week. Not once. His mouth is constantly open and things are constantly coming out of it. It is like living with a 5 year old. "...and did you know what? We can get pavers for the patio. And did you know what? If we do that we should line the flower beds with rock instead of railroad ties. What are the dimensions for the patio? How do you make the pavers stick? This weekend I'm going to repair the rotten wood and then paint the house and then re-do the flower beds and then...do you think we need to prime the wood?...did you know what? We can get some sod and some fill dirt for the backyard and for our anniversary maybe we can do a new bathroom counter and maybe the kitchens and do you want to sell our house and buy this 100 year old house in the historic district that looks like the Amityville house but we don't really want to do this we'll fix up our house and then...did you know what? We can do all this ourselves!"

The other night? As I'm trying to go to sleep? I innocently mentioned the drip in the bathroom sink was getting worse. So at midnight he is fixing the drip. Which is great except, um, can it not wait? Last night he spent two hours in the shed playing with a circular saw. He came in at 8, asked about dinner, said he was going to clean up, and went back out. 2.5 hours later I had to drag him into the house to feed him and get him to consider that he might want to go to sleep. And not talk. Sunday morning? He pulled down the old ugly mantle, ordered a new mantle, mowed the yard, and was planning for the trip to Lowe's. Before 10:00 in the morning. He got up at 8:30. Monday night he was in the attic at 10:00 repairing some of the ducts that were leaky or something. And he talked the whole time.

I do not know which will cause me to hemorrhage from my brain first: Lowe's or the talking. But I envision a scene in Lowe's tonight (yes, we are going back). In this scene we are at Lowe's and he is talking. My brain finally snaps, crackles, pops, and blood and smoke seep out my ears. I hijack a nail gun and climb the sign and begin shooting at innocent passers-by while shrieking to drown out the sound of the talking. And he will still be talking.

"And you know what else we can do?"
"Blegger blarg kill kill kill hate arg!"
"No! We can put in a railing on the front porch!"

And then I'll jump from the sign in order to end it all and as I lay twitching and bleeding and dying, my dear, loving husband will gaze down into my face, and...

"And you know what else we can do?"

Two things that are entirely unrelated except that they take place in the same town

2008-04-17T18:07:00.003-05:00

We just got a Savers about a block from my house, and I was so excited to go I thought I might burst something. And then I went.

I hated it. I should have loved it. It was what might happen were Goodwill and TJ Maxx to mate and produce a child. Savers would be that baby. I love Goodwill and TJ Maxx. But when I went, it felt sort of like it does when I go to Wal-mart. It was too big, too crowded, and there was just too much. It felt like it would take days to find anything. Like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I will remain loyal to Goodwill. I love my Goodwill. I have just the right amount of anonymity, while still feeling like people there know me. Several of the cashiers know me by name but they never bother you. Goodwill is exactly the right size to let me find things while still giving me that good feeling of having worked to find that thing. Its like the mom and pop of thrift store shopping, and I vow to you here and now I will never stray again.

Entirely unrelated- I joke that we live in suburbia, because our town has all of the trappings of a suburb. More chain restaurants and stores than should be legal, lots of family oriented neighborhoods with SUVs in the driveways, and not a lot of economic disparity. But North Little Rock is not really a suburb, despite the name, location, and apparent belief by everyone within the state that we are. But North Little Rock is starting to attempt to get some of its individuality back, and my husband is a part of that, and I am so proud and excited I am really just very obnoxious. There are more and more plans for restaurants that aren't chains, and neighborhoods that aren't all laid out on a grid, and funky stores run by crazy people, and coffee shops that intimidate me because I have never have been that cool.

Vive la change! And I never thought I would say that.

Do you think my health insurance covers situations like this?

2008-04-02T15:02:00.006-05:00

I think I might secretly be a man.

No, really. I have realized over the past month that I am missing some crucial girly feminine gene, and may actually be a man.

Some examples:

I hate weddings, I hate receptions, I hate baby showers, and basically anything where the point is to be dressed up and in awkward social situations that require me to give gifts for occasions I have next to no experience with.

I like to look pretty, but my definition of pretty is fairly lax. I mean, look, my hair is clean and I brushed it and I am wearing a cute top and shoes and everything, but that's about it. I don't care if I haven't plucked my eyebrows in a couple weeks, or if my freshly brushed hair looks exactly like it did 15 minutes before I woke up, or if you can see a couple of blemishes on my face.

I also had never realized all of the things that are considered unattractive that friends of mine obsess about. For instance, I am 25 years old and never gave much thought to the veins in my hands. They tend to pooch out a bit, they always have, that's what they do. This has never bothered me. A friend with a similar problem was recently lamenting her "man hands" because her veins did this. I thought that was the way everyone's hands were? Have I been missing stressing about a major deformity for all this time?

Another thing I've been missing: People keep telling me my hair color is too dark for me...what does this mean? This is the hair color I was born with and after the incidents with purple (unintentional), red which looked like I dumped orange paint on my head(unintentional), and black (momentary insanity) over the years, I have no intention of changing it anytime soon. I do not understand why this offends so many people?

I hate pedicures, which is apparently the ultimate in girl luxury. All this time I thought they were an archaic form of torture.

Also, I don't love figure skating, but I love mixed martial arts competitions. I'd rather watch boxing than most chick flicks, and I don't hate Jennifer Love Hewitt with all the fury of the fires of hell (which, according to my husband, all women actually do. Hate Jennifer Love Hewitt, I mean. Is that true? What's the big deal about hating her?)

So, in conclusion, I am a man. A man with awesome shoes and a really great bag.

A partial list of random things I have been anxious about since Sunday

2008-03-25T11:09:00.003-05:00

1. My husband is going to leave me for not being perfect. He is going to get sick of the amount of time I spend in my hometown with my mother, and remember that we had takeout 4 times last week, and peanut butter and jelly twice, and he's going to see realize he made a huge mistake when he married me.

2. My mother is going to live in a box. Alternately, my mother is going to live with me. Bonus guilt: Not entirely being sure which I think is worse. I love my mother, but I do not know if I could handle living with her again.

3. I'm going to get fired and be destitute.

4. I am crazy. Seriously, none of this stuff is even remotely based in reality.

5. I have diagnosed my mother with alzheimers. I...am not sure why. But every time she forgets a movie we have watched together, or forgets something she told me last week, I decide its early onset alzheimers, and what am I going to do? Seriously, its not impossible my mother could develop this disease, but I'm pretty sure her not remembering a couple things in the face of her day to day stress is not all that significant. Shoot, I tell my husband the same thing three times in the course of an hour without ever realizing I do it. Maybe I have early onset alzheimers.

6. I am going to have a horrific car accident leaving me horribly disfigured, and with broken teeth. The broken teeth being the biggest worry for inexplicable reasons I suspect are related to all of my dental trauma as a child. But for whatever reason, if you asked me to choose between a terrible scar all over my face I will take the scar. Which is ridiculous because teeth can be fixed so it looks as if nothing ever happened (with a minimum of pain) but the scar might not be all that improvable.

I am thinking the Lexapro is not working. I am also thinking its giving me an awful hangover. Its working at night before I go to bed. At what used to be the time I would be the most anxious I am now quite calm. Unfortunately, I wake up with a splitting headache and the anxiety pretty much in place. For now I am going to try to reduce my caffeine intake (because apparently I don't make simply associations without the instructions of my prescription drawing me a little picture) and try to play through the pain till it has time to build up in my system and then see what happens. If I could feel like I do before bedtime all day it would be worth it.

Blast from the Past

2008-03-22T18:38:00.003-05:00

My mom has saved all my homework and notes and such from my grade school days. Since we are trying to reduce the amount of crap in our lives, my mom sent this home with me. I've been going through it all to determine what I want to keep and what can go. Most of it is fairly straightforward. There are a few kind of funny things I am keeping, like the picture I drew labeled "Horse Attitudes" that shows, as mentioned, the attitudes of horses. But then there is my veriest favorite thing, a thing I have no memory of, and which is the most inexplicable thing I have found so far. It is a note on an index card, in my handwriting, and it says: Palatal Bar Duh.

I have no idea why I might have expected someone to know the answer to a question was palatal bar. I know I HAD one, I'm just not sure why I felt the need to be that admanant about it.

2008-03-18T14:43:00.003-05:00

Dear Random Republican Guy That I Work With But Have Never Met:

Hi! Hello! Please stop sending me smug, self-righteous political e-mails! I do not like them!

Please understand: I am not offended by your e-mails because I am a staunch democrat or anything. I am very open to arguments from all parties. But there is a catch. I am open to well thought out arguments that do not insult my intelligence or talk to me as if I have the logic of a 2 year old.

For example: your latest offering shows a very simple comparison of the tax rates during the Clinton administration and the Bush administration. Admittedly, the taxes are lower in the Bush administration. Congratulations on your ability to compare numbers and determine which is smaller! However, your e-mail makes the leap from lower taxes to Bush=greatest president ever. I need to argue with that. See, the thing is, those higher taxes you are upset about? Actually resulted in a budget surplus, increased employment, and more money for things like public schools. After 8 years of lower taxes we have increased unemployment, a budget deficit that is frightening, and cuts to things like public schools and research for alternate energy sources. Did your school perhaps benefit from lower taxes? Or did you skip class the day they taught logic? Or maybe you just like sitting in the dark and arguing with people with bargain basement educations?

Furthermore, do you really think its appropriate to trumpet your political opinions in the work place? Especially when you are going to be condescending and basically pepper your arguments with all the things that causes people to "get their dander up", so to speak? Please, for your own safety, and in order to prevent others from stroking out as their blood pressure approaches numbers that don't even register on the blood pressure cuff, cease and desist.

Thanks a million.

Magnet

2008-03-17T10:59:00.002-05:00

I am a crazy magnet. I do not know why. Someday I will have to record all of the stories of my encounters with the crazies, and then you will believe me. Until then, believe my husband who sometimes fears to go in public with me because someone insane will stop me and tell me their life story, and also take this anecdote as evidence:

Friday night we decided we needed to eat some southwestern eggrolls. Say what you will about Chilis and the suburbs and the end of the world, and you are probably right. But sometimes you need a southwestern eggroll, and if you don't, then maybe we cannot be friends. I'd have to think about it.

Anyway, I picked up my eggrolls without incident. I even paid for it with my husband's credit card like a good little suburban wife (this sometimes prompts people to tell me I am breaking the law, but no! I am not! I have signing privileges!) Anyway, I am looking both ways before crossing the street, as my mother taught me to do when I was small. And a woman is crossing in the other direction. She is coming toward me. She does not seem crazy. Maybe vaguely unwashed, but then so was I. So I do not know what happened or how it happened. All I know is, suddenly she is behind me and her breasts are pressing into my back. Her breasts. In full contact with my formerly innocent and also somewhat bony back.

How? Why? My first thought was: world's worst pick-pocket, so I checked my pockets and they were decidedly un-picked. Husband's credit card? Check. My bank card? Check. Cell phone? Check. All still there. So now I am thinking world's weirdest lesbian? That makes no sense. I know plenty of lesbians. None of them walk around pressing their fleshy, enormous breasts into unsuspecting strangers backs. (Note: also I asked a few and they said if they were desperate for a little semi-sexual contact my back is not what they would have "accidently" brushed against).

So I honestly have no clue. It couldn't have been accidental. She was walking the opposite direction. And after the incident she was still going in the opposite direction.

But damn, those eggrolls were good.

Into the Wild

2008-03-17T10:13:00.003-05:00

I watched Into the Wild with my mother this weekend. I was not expecting to like it because, frankly, I found the book tedious and boring and in some instances downright ridiculous. I did in fact enjoy the movie more than the book, but I want to say something that will probably be wildly unpopular and make me seem cold and hearless:

I had to read this book as a summer reading assignment the summer before my freshman year of college. Apparently, I am the only person who read this book who did not think this poor kid was a revolutionary rebel with an exceptional cause. I think he was a brilliant, sweet, sensitive, well-intentioned but misguided little brat.

Look, I get that his parents sucked. And he was tired of living his life for them, and maybe he was better off to break off ties with his family completely. He went to college and made good grades because they wanted him to, and then he did what he wanted to do. I think that's fine, and interesting, etc. However, many people in the world have crappy parents. Or crappy pasts. And they learn to let it go, to grow up, to move on. If he had stopped there, if he had simply chosen to live this hobo life and let that be that, I think he could have contributed to the world in ways no one would ever imagine some hobo could. I think he touched a lot of lives in his time on the road, and he could have continued this at the very least. But no. He decides he is going to do what he wants no matter whether its a well informed decision or not, and he up and dies in his 20s. For no reason except he was going to have it his way and no one could possibly know better than him.

Also? It is not hard to up and leave your life and responsibilities. Any one can do this. Most of us don't because those responsibilities may actually be more important than selfish desires for freedom. And trust me when I tell you that I know about this one. It would be a lot easier for me to just ditch my car on the side of the road one day and start walking and never tell anyone where I was going. I dream of doing this at least every other day, because it is easier than dealing with life. And yet I don't, because there are things that are more important than wanting life not to be hard. Conversely, so many people wish they didn't have to live that way it seems wasteful and ungrateful to just chuck it all in the trash (to be fair he did donate his life savings to charity so this one doesn't bother me as much).

Finally, the guy didn't invent this. He read too much Thoreau, too much Jack London, and too much Kerouac. It was not an original plan, or something he invented. He didn't do something that others hadn't done before him. And maybe, if he died happy, I could forgive the rest. But his journal entries indicate he was scared, and starving, and definitely not happy when he died. So really the whole thing just feels like a huge waste.

2008-02-08T13:07:00.000-06:00

In case anyone still ever checks in here occassionally: I AM NOT DEAD! I am only a little insane right now with working on my thesis and angling for a promotion and planning a trip to Scotland at the end of April.

Just to let you know how insane:

I woke up upset in the middle of the night because my grandmother, and my great aunt, and my mother had all dropped in unexpectedly and Michael hadn't made it home yet and it was 3 in the morning so I felt like there was some serious trouble brewing. Also, it was upsetting because my mom is supposed to have a job interview today. So, I was very upset by all of this until I woke up enough to realize that my grandmother has been dead for 5 years, my aunt doesn't drive, and my husband was sleeping and not missing at 3 a.m. In facy he had only hours before been watching tv and trying to comfort me as I screamed gibberish at the computer screen. It took me an embarrassingly long time to put all this together.

So I am keeping the crazy away from the blog because it is frankly very boring crazy that mostly involves me grunting in frustration and rending my hair and whining pitifully.

What are we going to do today, Brain?

2007-12-20T16:43:00.000-06:00

Yesterday began with poop. Not mine. One of the sneaky little devil spawn we call our dogs had some sort of intestinal malfunction in the night which required said little devil spawn to SHIT A RING AROUND THE BED. I am not kidding. There was diarrhea everywhere. Have I mentioned that without my contacts I am BLIND AS A BAT? So there was an obstacle course of liquid poo. Can I just say that is no way to start the day? If it weren't for this cold I might be dead; as it is I could not smell it, although I still almost vomited as I cleaned it up.

And then, when I thought it could not be any worse, they woke me at 1, 3, and 5 to go outside. Guess what I found at 3? Crap in the dining room. Wall to wall crap. Crap as far as the eye could see. And not just any crap; sick dog crap. Lovely.

Sidenote- I suspect the sickling was Stormy, She Who Puts Everything in Her Mouth. Its like that book Are You My Mother except its Are You Food? Anywho, she managed to eat an entire soft taco from Taco Bell without anyone knowing until hours later. I am pretty sure Taco Bell is Not Good for Puppies. Thus, I am blaming Taco Bell.

Ed.: The very next day I caught the little sneak poncing about with a half a pb&j I had set down to go fetch a Coke. And Sunny in the background is all like "I never should have trusted that idiot with the sandwich...No, Mama, I had nothing to do with it, see how I'm over here?" I just know the whole scene played like this:

Sunny: OK, you go grab the sandwich. I'll head back to the bedroom. You come back a few minutes later with the sandwich and we'll split it.

Stormy: Cheese!

Sunny:...

So anyway, at this point ya'll are like, this what you get for having dogs. Why would you ever have a dog? And I present to you the answer:

How do you not love this squinchy dumb sweet face? (Oh, ya'll- she's so dumb...)

Please to pretend you cannot see me in my whale pants and my glasses. And then tell me how you say no to the snuggliness?

Stormy: I haz a bone! Bone! I haz it!

Sunny: I shall possess the bone, and it shall be mine. As soon as that woman turns off the camera.

Stormy: I like rocks!

Stormy: Is you food? I can eats Sunny?

Here's to a green (and socially aware) Christmas

2007-12-15T22:30:00.000-06:00

Just posting something so Lusty Linda there moves down the screen a little.

So, everyone ready for the holidays? I'm not. No decorations out or anything. I haven't ordered the food. I haven't wrapped the gifts (although I am done purchasing them). I meant to post about my gifts earlier, but...I didn't. So this is of absolutely no help to you. But. I wanted to recommend some internet shopping sites with reasonably priced items that also go to support good causes.

For instance, at the Hunger Site you can purchase gifts such as this raw silk scarf:

or a wooden bracelet like one of these ( I LOVE wood jewelry):

and the proceeds go toward providing a certain number of cups of food to the hungry.

At the Rainforest site you can purchase gifts that come from the rain forest, such as this one:

and it goes to purchase and protect a certain number of square feet of rainforest.

I like the idea of a socially conscious Christmas. As a Christian I have always been uncomfortable with the commercialism of Christmas. Don't get me wrong, I love to get gifts and to give them, but when the founder of your religion (and the reason you celebrate the holiday at all) is a poor carpenter who taught we should give up all our worldly goods, it feels a little false to spend a lot of money on stuff. This kind of shopping doesn't make it better, but I feel like I am following the spirit of the season a little more closely.

Other kinds of sustainable gifts are "recycled," which can include either bags made out of recycled materials, such as these (available at http://www.greenwithenvy.com/):

or it can mean buying vintage and actually recycling something. Good sites for this are:

Poshvintage.com (pricey)

Etsy.com

Or even your local thrift shops.

Okay, and also this

2007-11-28T14:47:00.000-06:00

November 28, 2007

From Feministing:

More in misogynist pencil products (who knew?)

Apparently there's more than one woman-hating pencil product out there. First there was the headless doggie-style sharpener, and now Shakes shows us this: Lusty Linda the pen holder.

You'll note from the packaging that Lusty Linda can utter "8 lusty sayings," which fall into one of two categories—"good mood" or "bad mood," controlled by the click of a switch. Says one site (screen cap) that sells Lusty Linda, "too bad all women did not have such a switch." Ho ho ho!

Her "bad mood" sayings include "Ow," "Help, Help!" and "Get out you, you dirty old man." You know, because rape is hilarious.

Recently "men's rights activists" scoffed at the idea that we were offended by the pencil sharpener, which blogger Glenn Sacks wrote "depicts a conventional, common sex act which women enjoy." (What woman enjoys fucking without her head, I don't know.) I wonder if they'll find more excuses as to how "Help!" and "Ow!" are actually cries of unabashed pleasure.

Cara puts it well:

This promotes rape. If you buy one of these things, you are promoting rape. If you laugh at one of these things, you are promoting rape. If you don’t laugh but still think that it’s a harmless joke, you are promoting rape. If one of your friends has one, or thinks it’s funny, and you don’t say anything about it, you are promoting rape.

How many more times do we have to say it? Rape is not funny.

(Personal aside: I do give Glenn-referenced above-credit for stating the pencil sharpener is offensive. The knife block pictured on his site is also offensive. However, I do take exception to the implication that the knife block's offensiveness somehow takes away the offensiveness of the pencil sharpener. Also, Glenn, many men enjoy that position as well. Does that mean it would be okay if there was a pencil sharpener depicting it? I'm thinking no.)

So rambly its not really worth reading, but you can try anyway

2007-11-28T14:20:00.001-06:00

I am going to preface this post by saying, I am not crazy about PETA. I think they have and do accomplish some very good things, but I do not condone many of their methods (most especially the destruction of property that is not theirs when they protest certain designers or events). I also think many of the more outrageous stunts are done more to draw attention to themselves than to their cause, but that is JUST MY OPINION, so Pamela Anderson please don't come after me. I also think that if I ever were to meet Ingrid Newkirk I would dislike her intensely.

However, I do have to give the woman some pretty damn grudging respect. For one thing, she and another person started a little organization in an apartment decades ago and managed to turn it into an influential, if not well loved, organization that is known all over the world. I also have to respect the woman's dedication to her goals. I may think she is a psychotic publicity slut, but I cannot doubt her dedication or her sincerity when it comes to her cause. I also admire that she doesn't give a damn what I think about her. She may not be likable and she may not be understandable, but she is a strong woman.

And say what you will about some of the more ridiculous aspects of the organization (and as a science student and one who has worked in labs I promise you they have some ridiculous ideas*), they have accomplished some things that were worthwhile. For one thing, lab animals are treated better. I realize they want to do away with animal testing all together, and while a part of me is all in favor, the scientist in me realizes this is not possible. Some things have to be tested on animals because you cannot test on humans and you cannot just unleash things on the public without testing (little side note: I do find it interesting that Ms. Newkirk, while protesting animal testing, has undergone at least one unnecessary medical procedures that I PROMISE you, was tested on animals first).

Also, while I think its ridiculous to try to do away with agriculture (my country girl roots are showing. oh my) I do think there are too many instances of animals raised for food being treated in unnecessarily cruel ways. This is coming from a person who refuses to eat veal or chicken house chickens (my great grandfather just rolled over in his grave- he was a chicken farmer). I think free range chicken and beef just taste better, and I feel better about flesh consumption if the animals were at least treated well. In my opinion, we should all take a lesson from kosher agriculture.

In conclusion: Ingrid Newkirk is weird, but has redeeming qualities. Animal testing and agriculture are not going to go away, but they can be made more humane.

*Once, I was working in a toxicology lab and we used water fleas as the test subjects. Water fleas (or daphnea, if you wanna get technical) live in stagnant pond water. Thus, the experiments were conducted in stagnant pond water. The PETA rep wanted to know why they were not being cultured and tested in, I kid you not, distilled water. Because they would die, the end. Although, you have to admire the way they are equal opportunity animal rights nuts, not just cute fuzzy animals rights nuts.

Greedy moneysucking capitalists who are truly grateful for the luxuries they have

2007-11-26T08:15:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving might be my favorite holiday. I am a person who needs the reminder to stop looking around at all the things I WANT and look at all of the things I HAVE. I have way more than I'll ever need, and I often forget that fact because my goodness, I don't have THAT. My life would be complete if I only had THAT. Which, of course, is never the end. There's always one more THAT that I need to make my life complete. Its kind of a relief to look around and think, you know what? My life may not be COMPLETE (cause you know, I'm not actually looking to die yet) but I am definitely full up on good stuff, and one more thing is actually not necessary.

Of course, I also love the irony of following up a day of gratitude and gratefulness and giving to others with a day of greed and grabbiness. The biggest sale day of the year follows the holiday intended to represent being happy with what we have. And that big sale day generally starts earlier and earlier every year (4am this year, what the heck?). So, we have people who are already ready to put their sensible pump in your neck for that last 60% off cashmere sweater, they have just spent an entire day with their family, and then it seems prudent to deprive them of sleep so they will be that much more generous and friendly. If by generous and friendly I mean "resembling angry bears." And I do.

I never participate in Black Friday. For one thing, I generally hang on to my Thanksgiving goodwill at least through another favorite holiday, New Years. So I feel no need to stab someone trying to get a good deal on something I don't need either for myself or as a gift. I only know about Black Friday because of last year, when I apparently suffered a head wound and decided to go out and do my Christmas shopping. My mother never took me shopping the day after Thanksgiving due to her own childhood trauma of almost suffocating every year when my grandmother would take she and my uncle out into the insanity of the BIGGEST SHOPPING DAY OF THE YEAR!!!! Civilized Southern women would smoosh a child into the glass pressing to try to be the first through the door to hide things from their friends and snarl over glassware like wolves fighting over a deer carcass. So, of course, I thought I was deprived of something magical. I was. The magic of normally very nice people devolving into savages who would gleefully cut a bitch. I got home and felt thankful all over again; thankful that I had escaped with my life.

But somehow, I kind of like it. Even though I will never participate in it EVER AGAIN, for any amount of money. It seems to me it perfectly sums up America, and everything everyone in the world loves and hates about us.

It ain't wearing white gloves and dancing with mops, that's for damn sure

2007-11-23T23:04:00.000-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, we have a rat.

Not a mouse. A rat.

I know I have a tendency to exaggerate and overdramatize. I am not overdramatizing.

The thing is, mice don't bother me. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly want to share living space with one. But when I was in college we had mice in my school furnished apartment. We set out traps, we called housing, we plugged holes. We still had mice. For the whole of my senior year. You just kind of get over being horrified at mice. They are small, and kind of cute, and when you don't really cook at your apartment anyway, its just not that big a deal. Besides, mice happen. They just do. I think its pretty obvious that statistically, you will have a mouse in your house at some point. But rats? They are different. Rats are disgusting and mean and not as common in a clean house. Which, have I mentioned my OCD? My house is clean. Rats spread bubonic plague and who knows what all (okay, I know mice spread crap too, but still...). Also? Would have no fear unleashing the dogs against mice. With a rat, I'm a little reluctant to let them have it. Especially since its about half their size. I have a feeling it would put up a fight worthy of a trip to the vet.

And then my husband had to go and say, "I hope we don't find a nest of rats in the Christmas tree." Thanks, honey. I needed to think about that. I was already thinking about how many times I've gone out into the laundry room in my bare feet and indiscrimantely stuck my hands into dark closed in places out there. And I was already mentally calculating exactly how long we've been hearing that scratching in the walls. And also thinking about how it was using a major pipe hole to transport itself, and wondering if it was possible that it could travel out the spout in the bathtub. I really needed to be thinking about an ENTIRE NEST OF VERMIN IN MY FREAKING CHRISTMAS TREE.

The one bright spot is that I have provided comedic entertainment for my entire family every time I have to go out to the laundry room. I generally take the broom, open the door, knock around, alot, and yell, "Okay, Rat, I am coming out. Here I come. I am coming." Then I run out in my shoes and gloves, do my thing, and run back in screaming with my hair on fire.

This year I am thankful for D-Con Mice and Rat poison.

It is hard to splutter in a title

2007-11-12T09:49:00.001-06:00

I think people should read this, but I think no one should read this. I am so angry my head is spinning. My hands are shaking. If this guy was standing in front of me right now I'd kick him in the face. Repeatedly. With a pair of pointy toed stilettos.

If someone has a legal, non-violent idea for how to punish this guy, let me know. I'm all over it.

http://feministing.com/archives/008060.html

November 08, 2007

Because assaulting "chubbies" makes for a great commercial

Via Jezebel, we find out about perhaps the world's biggest asshole, Michael Karolchyk.

Karolchyk owns a gym in Denver that he calls an "anti-gym.

It has numerous slogans, from "Too chubby; Never find a hubby," to "Have Sex With The Lights On" to "Save The Chubbitos" to "No Chubbies." It also has numerous amenities, including "live DJs, cage dancers, and our elite co-ed Ravish Room." The Ravish Room turns out to be a sauna that admits only members who have reached a sufficiently low body mass index, but you also have to be screened to so much as join his gym, where motivational techniques include having cupcakes hurled at you on the treadmill...

Charming. But nothing, nothing, beats this horrific commercial, "Hottie" in which Karolchyk physically assaults a "chubby" crying woman by pushing her onto a couch (so that her cake smashes up against her full humiliation style) while yelling "Moo!" at her. And that's just the tip of the asshole iceberg. If you can't watch the full commercial, a breakdown is after the jump.

It's stuff like this that makes me just fucking hate people.

Oh, and by the way, if you have the audacity to contact the "Anti-Gym" about their disgusting ads and vile owner, you are a "bearded lady."

The commercial starts with a woman sitting on her couch watching television. The TV shows a news report of a not-model-skinny woman about to kill herself by jumping off a bridge. A young woman in the news report screams, "Oh my god! She's going to start a tidal wave!"

It cuts back to the woman on the couch who hears her husband come home. ("Honey, I'm home!") But as the woman runs up to her hubby, a skinny porntastic looking woman pushes her aside, takes her man and starts making out with him. They leave together, and the dog follows.

Enter Karolchyk, who busts through the woman's refrigerator, wearing a shirt that says "No Chubbies," screaming: "Look at you! Moo! Moo! You're never going to have a hubby if you're a chubby! So forsake the cake!" (He pushes the woman on the couch, crying.) As the scene fades to the gym info, Karolchyk says, "Pathetic! No chubbies!"

Posted by Jessica at 01:27 PM | in Body Image , Television , Violence Against Women

I also like Natalie Dee's husband

2007-11-07T15:33:00.000-06:00

toothpastefordinner.com

I Hate Halloween

2007-10-30T14:18:00.000-05:00

I hate Halloween.

I just don't get it. If I want to dress up as a slutty nurse I will do so in the privacy of my own home, thank you.

(That sound you just heard was my husband running down to the costume shop as fast as his little feets will carry him).

Also, in my neighborhood, trick or treaters are more like...panhandlers. Seriously, people. If you drove yourself to my house wearing ratty sweats you do not deserve candy. Although, I will still give it to you because I don't want to clean egg off of my house. Or blood out of my carpet. Or whatever.

I do, however, like to scare the piss out of myself by watching Most Haunted and scary movies. This year, we have On Demand. And the Fear Network. So no settling for the craptastic swill left on the shelves of Blockbuster, or waiting anxiously for the NetFlix to arrive three days late.

Mwahahahaha.

Anyway, this year I am planning to be all Scrooge-like and not turn on the porch light or answer the door. Partly, because last year was very disappointing, and partly because the new puppy...she likes to escape. And run into other people's garages. And try to eat their cats. So, we either have to grab her every time we want to open the door and wrestle her to the ground (she does not LIKE that) or we can not open the door. Not opening the door requires fewer stitches, so...that's how it is going to go.

Have a fun safe Halloween, and if you hear shrieking, that's just me watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre again.

2007-10-24T16:33:00.000-05:00

nataliedee.com

2007-09-10T16:45:00.000-05:00

100 Things About Me

I almost always stay up way too late reading. I love to read, and I always have.
If I had to pick 5 authors to take with me to a deserted island they would be: John Irving, Anne Patchett, Joshilyn Jackson, Wally Lamb, and Nick Hornsby. Runners up would be Michael Chabon and Flannery O’Connor, which would be really interesting, since she’s dead.
I am currently reading Patron Saint of Liars, and it is wonderful. I would like to weep just thinking of it.
I just finished the Magician’s Assistant, which was also wonderful. But it had parts that made me go, “Huh?” It wasn’t nearly as beautiful. All the beauty was tainted by my not really understanding the heroine that well.
Yes, I really say “huh” though I try not to. I also say, “Do what?”
I was born and raised in the South, and I definitely have an accent with my family. However, strangers tend to think I am a Yankee.
There are about 5 meals I can cook that taste gourmet and only take 20 minutes. I always let people think they were more complicated to make than they were. (In case you are interested, they are shrimp scampi with garlic cheddar mashed potatoes, Mediterranean stuffed pork chops with couscous, broiled tilapia parmesan, chicken carbonera with bruschetta, and fried chicken).
I used to be a vegetarian, until I married a carnivore.
I know that people are generally omnivores, but my husband believes vegetables are fancy garnish.
I am thinking of going back to being a vegetarian, after learning how chicken nuggets are made. And seeing the giant, mutant chickens.
I was never a very self-righteous vegetarian; I would eat meat if someone had worked hard to cook a free meal for me, or if no veggie options were available.
I believe every one has to make their own choices, and I believe its not my place to act holier-than-thou.
I love animals, and I’m an environmentalist.
I hate PETA and Greenpeace. I think their tactics are exactly like tactics used by terrorists everywhere. I also think they don’t understand all the facts about their causes.
When I was little I wanted to be either a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader or a fairy princess.
I can not remember being bored more than a handful of times in my life; inside my head is a pretty interesting place to be. I go there often. Loving to read also comes in handy here.
I am trying to learn to stick to a budget and not go for instant gratification so much.
I have a lot of debt as a result of the search for instant gratification.
My favorite ice cream type dessert is a pralines and cream concrete from Shakey’s.
My favorite color is green. Any color of green.
My favorite perfume is Marc Jacobs Grass. I also love Burberry Brit and Dolce and Gabana Sicily.
My biological parents are from Sicily. I’ve never met them, and I don’t speak Italian. I have 6 or 7 brothers and sisters, somewhere in the world.
I was raised as an only child, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
In fact, I only want one child.
As a small act of rebellion, I love to watch America’s Next Top Model while eating Oreo’s. It is my way of thumbing my nose at conventional beauty standards. Even though secretly the show makes me want to stop eating altogether. Which I have done, and flirt with doing again.
I love Kung-Fu movies and mobster/gangster movies. They are my favorites. Ever. EVER.
I love the blues. Freddie King, BB King, Etta James, and on and on and on.
I like Elvis more than the Beatles.
My favorite Elvis song is Suspicious Minds, followed by Kentucky Rain.
My favorite song ever is Imagine.
My favorite Beatles song is All the Lonely People.
I think DJ Qualls is sexy. If you don’t know who that is, trust me when I say you would think I’m insane.
I have a girl crush on Maggie Gyllenhaal.
I am the only person I know who takes notes in church. But I think if a test in a class is important enough to take notes for, this test should definitely be important enough to take notes for.
My favorite hymns are This is My Father’s World and A Closer Walk with Thee.
I love to travel. My vacations are split between seeing the US and seeing the other parts of the world. So far that includes various parts of Mexico.
I want to see Sicily, Scotland, Greece, Morroco, the Caribbean, and Africa.
I plan to own a horse again someday.
I love riding. It is my favorite form of exercise. I miss it. (Don’t worry. This isn’t going to turn into a story about a girl’s love for her horse or anything).
When I was younger I had 3 imaginary friends. My mom is still not sure if they were so much imaginary as they were…invisible. My mom fully believes to this day that I used to talk to dead people.
I’m not 100% convinced, but I don’t think she’s crazy, either.
After my grandmother died I believe she came to see me. She stopped when I told her it was freaking me out. I believe my grandpa has been a couple of times too.
I will eat a tomato if it is sun-dried, processed into ketchup, cooked in to a sauce, or fried green, but I will not eat a raw tomato.
I think they taste like vomit when they’re raw. You’re welcome.
I have not touched lobster since I learned they are kissing cousins to cockroaches.
When I was 5 I wrote and illustrated my own book in an old notebook of my mom’s. It was a literary masterpiece called George the Mouse, which told the moving allegory of the horrible things that happen to mice who don’t listen to their mother. Spoiler: the trap, that’s what happens. It is my greatest literary achievement to date.
When I was 9 I won honorable mention in a writing contest. I did not actually write the piece that was submitted. My mom’s best friend did.
I was in 2 little miss beauty pageants when I was little, and one pageant in high school. I was runner up in two of them. One of them awarded me $2000 for school.
I was a cheerleader at Baptist school in junior high. The first year we wore homemade uniforms. The next year we wore knee length shorts.
I warmed the bench for volleyball, but ran just about every event in track.
My senior year I ran the mile for my last race in the state tournament and got 4^th place overall. I ran a 6 minute mile. I was a total rockstar.
I eat my macaroni and cheese covered in balsamic vinegar.
I do exceptional addition, subtraction, fractions, and percentages in my head. But I suck at math for the most part.
The only test I ever failed was a math test. They let me re-take it and I aced it.
I was #4 in my graduating class. Apparently, 4^th place is my place.
I did win my regional spelling bee twice.
It is from all the reading. I have always read a lot.
I hate small talk and I hate when people ask me to talk about myself. Not because I mind talking about myself, but because I don’t think well on my feet. By the time I post this I will have been working on it for a week.
I have always had wild dreams and I remember them for years.
I have nightmares when I’m stressed. My first nightmare was when I was in college.
It was about vampires. Everyone around me was being turned into vampires.
Sometimes I have nightmares in cartoon format. Once was an episode of Scooby Doo and once was an episode of South Park.
I took piano lessons for 6 years. I cannot play the piano. At all.
I have not spoken to my dad in almost 2 years.
This does not bother me at all.
In fact, it makes my life better.
My father was an abusive alcoholic. He is now sober and is not abusive to his new wife. However, he has never offered any sign of remorse at what he did to us.
Once my dad put his fist through the window of the car. With me and my mom inside. The fist came through on my side of the car.
Once he locked me in a closet.
I never walked in on my parents having sex, but on one of my dad’s custody weekends we got a hotel room. I woke up to him “wrestling naked” with a random woman I had never seen before and never saw after.
This memory probably explains why I had no interest in sex until college.
He did not come to anything associated with my wedding.
He did not tell us congratulations or send a card.
I paid for my wedding myself.
Never, ever, ever touch my feet. I hate it. You will get kicked.
I hate pedicures. See above.
I think feet are freaky looking. Like weird mutant hands.
I still like college food: Ramen noodles, Spaghetti-Os, frozen pizza.
I do not like to be touched. I don’t mind it if I know you, but mostly, I just don’t like to be touched. I don’t like when strangers put their hands on my back or shoulders, I don’t like acquaintances to hug me, I don’t want anyone to play with my hair unless they are a trained professional. Please just don’t touch me.
My nicknames include: Punkin, Meggie, Meg, Sunshine, Sweet Patootie, Goose, and Bubba. My mom used to call me Punkin and Meggie. Now she calls me Meg, mostly. If anyone else calls me Meggie I will vomit on their shoes and punch them in the throat. My dad called me Sunshine. My grandpa called me Sweet Patootie, and my mother’s best friend called me Goose. My uncle called me Bubba (or the village idiot).
I have obsessive compulsive disorder. A mild case. I cannot sleep if the closet door is opened or drawers are shut crooked. It will drive me crazy all day if the corner of the fitted sheet is pulled loose from the mattress and I don’t fix it before leaving. I cannot concentrate if my house or desk is messy. There are other behaviors where I feel as if everything will go wrong if I don’t do those things, or I think I have to keep thinking about it to keep people safe. Mostly this has been helped by prescription drugs.
I hate the Sound of Music. And Grease. And Grease II. And West Side Story. And pretty much all musicals in general. Hell is a hot room where the only thing to do is watch musicals. And talk on the phone.
I HATE the phone. Hate.
I would rather e-mail or talk in person.
Possibly because I sound like a 7 year old on the phone. On crack.
One of my dogs is the anti-Christ. Who knew it would be a cuddly puppy with an all black face?
The anti-Christ destroyed our laptop.
While it was on top of the desk.
She may have lost my entire thesis. My ENTIRE thesis. The one I have been working on for over a year, the one that was almost finished.
Did I mention she is the anti-Christ?
It was sort of fun telling my advisor my dog ate my laptop, though.
Other evidence of her Satanic heritage includes: whereas our other dog killed a baby bunny accidentally, this one has killed two, on purpose, and proceeded to…well, do unpalatable things to them. The other day she caught a bird, out of the air, and killed it and brought it into the house.
She truly is the underpants gnome. All of my underwear are suddenly crotchless. No exaggeration. All of them. Because she can get in the laundry hamper. Without knocking it over. True story.
I should really invest in an external jump drive.
I love thunderstorms.
I love the smell of ozone when it rains after a long dry spell.
Dewy mornings around 8 or 9 o’clock always remind me of daycare, and recess.
My least favorite time of day is late afternoon when the sun is still out but going down. I find it really depressing and sad for some reason.
I cannot eat any meat that resembles the animal it was before it died. This includes trout, crayfish with the heads still on, lobster with the head still on, crab, whole chicken, or anything else that stares at me while I eat it.

100. This officially took a week, and anyone who reads this far gets extra life points. Or something.

This should keep you busy

2007-08-29T14:40:00.000-05:00

So, no serious posts for awhile as I am taking life advice from the movie Hustle and Flow and attempting to "walk the walk" in certain areas of my life, rather than blabbing on incessantly and not doing anything about it. Um, which is part of the walking thing, actually, since I hate when people bitch and moan about their lives and never try to change anything. So. Working on it.

In the meantime, I have a few fun time killers. Firstly, seven songs I can't stop listening to right now:

1. Fun Lovin' Criminal The Fun Loving Criminals
2. Sleeping Lessons The Shins
3. Walking in Memphis ??? (We are going to Memphis for Labor Day weekend. Its mood music).
4. Pictures of You The Cure
5. One Girl Revolution Saving Jane (embarrassing, but...yeah, just embarrassing).
6. Song 2 Blur
7. Congratulations Blue October

Three psychotic things I've pondered recently:

1. You know that old jump rope rhyme about Cinderella? Cinderella dressed in yella went upstairs to kiss her fella made a mistake and kissed a snake how many doctors did it take?

It just occurred to me there are several ways to take the whole mistakenly kissing a snake thing. I have outlined them for you here:

Prince Charming is not as handsome as we have been lead to believe, if he is that reptilian looking.

Cinderella is dumb as a box of rocks, and can't tell the difference between her "fella" and a limbless vertebrate.

Cinderella "accidentally" kissed something other than his lips. Such as everyone's favorite one-eyed trouser snake. And by "accidentally" I mean "on purpose."

Cinderella is dumber than a bag of hammers and the prince convinced her his lips were not on his face, as it were, but somewhere a little lower.

Cinderella is clumsy and she tripped and fell and kissed his "snake."

Followed up by how many doctors...depending on how you interpret this either the dummy got what she deserved for confusing a man and a snake, or prince charming really gets around. How is that appropriate for children?

2. Secret Passion: Dog Dancing
Why do I love this so much? I spend a lot of time rocking out to various iTunes and forcing my dogs to dance with me. I'm not sure if this is a sign of deep rooted mental illness, or not. But dude. Its hilarious. They love it. They think it is the most awesome thing ever, until I start singing and dancing. Then they inexplicably either run away, try to drown me out (not kidding- the louder I am, the louder they are), or attempt to lay on my face or otherwise cover my mouth. Which is also hilarious. Tell the truth: how sick am I?

3. I've spent more time than I care to contemplate comparing the non-sensical lyrics of Bush to the non-sensical lyrics of Nirvana. I have come to the conclusion that though Nirvana is still not one of my favorites there is a certain art to the non-sensicalness. Cobain could at least occassionally string together a grouping of words that would produce an actual emotion or give a startling image. Bush...is there such a thing as a random word generator. Cause I'm pretty sure that's how their songs were written.

Speaking of Kurt Cobain, I often wonder if he had cleaned up and not committed suicide, what would his career be like now? Would he have "sold out" as we think of it? Would he have gone mainstream rock? Would he be on a reality dating show on VH1? What would they call it? Smells like Love? Heartshaped Box of Love? Think about how awesomely bad that could be. Courtney Love could come on to try to decide which girls were "for real" and then maybe stab one of the contestants or something. (By the way- this conversation with my husband devolved into a discussion of all kinds of dead rockers. Michael thinks Jimi Hendrix would totally be on something like Flavor of Love or Rock of Love or Chachi is Old and Unfaithful and Wonders Why He's Not Married).

And the list of movies I have watched recently:
Saved- totally awesome. Michael wasn't as impressed, but he didn't go to Christian school for the greater part of his school experience. Trust me, it was so like this.

Neverwas-still deciding. Awesome premise, I'm not too sure about the execution although I heart Ian McKellan.

Carlito's Way- not as good as I remember, especially the end (SPOILER: dude gets shot in the heart from three feet away with a shotgun. The cops are ten feet away but for some reason don't arrest Gunny McShooty, even though he kills a 2nd person at point blank range. Then even though the guy was ostensibly shot in the heart, he lives like 15 more minutes). But I have a soft spot in my heart for mob/gangster movies, so what the hell.

Books to not read:
1. American Pastoral Phillip Roth. Just couldn't make it to the end. And we are talking about a main character whose daughter plants bombs in protest of the Vietnam War, Angela Davis, and all that jazz. And still its boring. The main character has no personality which is part of the point but also pisses me off. I'm sick of this whole suburbanite middle class Americans are boring and have no soul. Bite me, okay? Because I am sick of people in goth makeup with thriftstore clothes talking about how judgmental I am because of where I live. You don't know me. I buy all my stuff at Goodwill too. I am more likely to walk up and talk to you and get to know you than you are to do the same to me. Shove your damn hypocrisy up your ass, I'm sick of it and I don't deserve it.

Whoa.

Got a little bitter there for a minute.

I just find it odd to be judged on some preconceived notion that people have that I am judging them.

2. Middlesex was okay, but not really what I wanted it to be.

3. I know everyone was all hot and bothered for A Spot of Bother a while back, but I have been trying to read this for 5 months now. Still not even a fourth of the way in.

Books to read:

1. Shantaram
2. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
3. Agnes and the Hitman

Yeah okay, so I'll be seeing you around the internets...

Can't...stop...laughing...

2007-08-24T11:45:00.001-05:00

Dogs and dogs and dogs

2007-08-21T17:47:00.000-05:00

It occurred to me I have not mentioned the new puppy lately. I can't remember if I told you about the time she pulled down the miniblinds. Or shredded the curtain. Or learned to get laundry out of the closed hamper. Or pulled the hamper around the room. And then chewed through the bottom for easier clothes access (oddly, she's never destroyed any of the clothes, except my underwear). I call her the underpants gnome. Because she's like that one episode of South Park: Step 1. Steal underpants. Step 2. Step 3. Profit.

Anyway, we always jokingly said Sunny's secret superhero name was Destructo and her super power was the total destruction of anything and everything. But. Stormy may be taking over. The dog can destroy things at a molecular level.

Well, this was all happening when we left and the vet said it sounded like separation anxiety. Which is not unusual for a puppy that's been abandoned and ignored. So we got a crate. Problem pretty much solved. She loves it and somehow she associates it with us coming home. Thank the good Lord.

We haven't got a feel for how smart she is yet, but we are leaning towards idiot savant. Like Rainman. She has no concept of what the "edge" of something means. She falls off furniture at least once a day, and she seems to be ADD. At least she is distracted by anything shiny. Or moving. Or breathing.

She has an amazing brain for hunting. Whereas Sunny pouncing is for show and usually takes an average of three hops to actually hit the target, Stormy can pounce on something from across the room with unerring accuracy and precision. Of course, poor Sunny has to go cross eyed to see anything directly in front of her face because of the googly eyes on the side of her head. Also, I think Stormy plays dumber than she is to get her way. Which actually makes her a genius. But she listens pretty well, and its better every day she is with us.

Now I just have to figure out how to keep her from sleeping on my face, and we're golden.

2007-08-20T21:25:00.000-05:00

So, apparently I don't blog when things are going well and I'm happy. Work has been eating up a lot of time, and I love it. I feel useful and appreciated. And I think they like me, even though I have broken the copy machine, the printer, and the postage meter since I've been there. Me and office equipment never have gotten along. Maybe I have weird electrical fields or something, but I can walk by something like a fax machine and it will self destruct.

Michael and I are going to Memphis for Labor Day weekend and we have to find someone to keep the dogs. I think it might be easier to find two people to keep one dog apiece, rather than one person to keep both.

I have been thinking about statistics lately. Like, driving in Memphis is a horrifying experience. No kidding, those people drive like drunken toddlers. Anyway, so some genius is like, don't worry most car accidents happen within a certain distance of your home. And I'm thinking, that is one of the most misused statistics. Like more people die in car crashes than plane crashes. Strictly its true, but have you ever considered how often you fly versus how often you drive? For me, I'm in my car twice a day every day. I'm on a plane twice a year. So if I drive 365 times more than I fly, and if most people do to, then of course the odds of dying in a car crash is more likely. But its not because flying is so much safer. And the thing with most accidents happening within a certain distance of home...I would say that I am rarely outside of 10 miles from home on any given day. Since that's where we are, that's where we have accidents. So...yeah. Not really comforting, and actually kind of irritating. Not helpful.

So what weird things have been on your minds lately? You can tell me. It can't be weirder than my irritation over statistics. Or more nerdy, for that matter...

Some thoughts on leaving (Bittersweet Symphony)

2007-07-19T13:26:00.000-05:00

Not too long ago my husband told me, "You know, when I came up to you in the school cafeteria to ask for your number, that was the most words I had ever heard you say."
This is significant because I had known him for a year in high school. He and his friends all called me "Mute" because I never opened my mouth. I say this to point out to you that I have a history of painful shyness and severe introversion.

I have lately mastered the art of small talk even though I hate it, and socializing like a "normal" person even though it gives me a headache. I have learned to stop making people feel uncomfortable with silences, even though I feel as if I will vomit if I have to say one. More. Word. This was probably the hardest for me, as I have never met a silence I consider uncomfortable, or that I didn't like. I believe we are not quiet enough, most of the time. However, I want others to be at ease as well, so I have learned to help fill most silences.

I still have a long way to go. I have not mastered the fine art of bragging on myself. I don't feel a need to come into the office and tell everyone I stayed up until the wee hours so a project could be finished. I don't feel its necessary to point out every good idea I had while doing the work, or how invested I am. I still believe actions speak louder than words. Unfortunately, in a corporate setting you have to know how to brag on yourself every once in awhile. No one will notice unless you tell them. This has been made abundantly clear to me in conversations at work where I have been told, "We feel like you just aren't dedicated enough. We feel like you don't care." And I want to scream, "If I didn't care do you think I would be here after one hour of sleep?! If I didn't care do you think I would have worked on this project at home when I could be reading/eating/sleeping/playing with puppies/dancing like a maniac with my husband?!" Unfortunately, I don't even say that. Let alone scream it.

There are a lot of things that have occurred recently at this job that could make me bitter if I would let them. I am trying not to dwell on those things because I don't want to be a bitter person. I am trying to take responsibility for the things I should. The things that I had/have no control over I am trying to use as positive reinforcement for leaving. I am trying to cling to good memories and the gratitude I feel for having been offered a position I wasn't qualified for right out of college. I am trying to focus on the good friends I made in my 2+ years here while trying to forget the people who have been rude or made me feel useless or stupid. I know that some of the problems are my fault and some are not. In a nutshell I am warping Eleanor Roosevelt's famous quote and trying to remember that no one or nothing can make me bitter or make me feel bad without my express permission. This is a surprisingly hard thing to do, as someone who is ready to believe the worst of themselves and is skeptical of compliments in general.

Trying to be a better person is a total bitch.

A Long and Winding Road

2007-07-16T12:33:00.000-05:00

Saturday, the gift Michael ordered for "me" for our anniversary arrived. He gave it to me two weeks early because he couldn't wait for "me" to get to play with it. It is an actual for truly iPod. So "we" spent much of the weekend loading it up with music from iTunes and cds. As "we" are doing this, Michael is getting a little frustrated because he is paying for songs he used to own on cd before one of his sister's upstanding citizen boyfriends stole about 50 cds from his mother's house. (As a side note, this is the same pillar of the community who totaled her car twice, introduced her to hard drugs, stole everything Michael left at his mom's that wasn't nailed down, and gave one item to his drug dealer when he was short of cash. Side, side note: when Michael got angry about this, his mother said, and I quote, "Well you shouldn't have left it here if you cared about it." Um. Okay. But please note that one thing that was stolen was a shotgun, which Michael couldn't very well keep in the college dorm or the rental house with his drunken buddies. Side, side, side note: the kid actually sold that to someone who recognized it and returned it to Michael.) Anyway, he was a little frustrated about paying for some of that stuff twice.

Also, "my" iPod now has a lot of music I could give a flip about, but ah well, that's sharing I guess. I mean, its not BAD music, just not my thing. I'm more of a punk/indie/alternative/folk girl and he's more of a classic rock, classic country, rap kind of guy. Case in point: Eric Clapton is...fine. Its okay. But I do not get heart palpitations every time I hear him, and I can only listen to Cocaine so many times before I want to rip my ears off. Ditto Freebird, The Gambler, and

Anyway, we did make sure to get some stuff we both like, and this brought about a discussion of favorite songs, and what's in our top 10 list.

So here's mine, its actually more eclectic than I realized:

1. Imagine (John Lennon)
2. Suspicious Minds (Elvis)
3. Say it ain't so (Weezer)
4. Together (The Reconteurs)
5. Seven Spanish Angels (Willie Nelson and Ray Charles- okay, I love Willie and I will compromise more on the classic country than the others)
6. Mental Illuminations (Sprout)
7. Congratulations (Blue October)
8. Dramamine (Modest Mouse)
9. No Rain (Blind Melon)
10. Sleeping Lessons (the Shins)

Songs that are thisclose to being on the list: Simon and Garfunkle Bridge Over Troubled Water, Johnny Cash's cover of the NIN Hurt, Bob Dylan Dust in the Wind, Joanie Mitchell Paved Paradise, Joan Jett cover of Angel of the Morning, Ramones Garden of Serenity, Heart Magic Man, Blondie Heart of Glass, and a few from Soundgarden, Sonic Youth, the Pixies, and some others, but really that's cheating.

So, what are yours? Leave em in the comments or on your own blogs, however you want.

It would be a MIRACLE if I did what I said I was going to do

2007-07-12T19:28:00.000-05:00

So I guess I'm going to try for twice a month on the writing right now, what with all the other excitement in my life and all. But I have a thought for today:

What do you think a miracle is? How do you define it? Do you believe in them? What qualifies as a miracle to you?

I have some ideas about this. I'm not sure I can define a miracle, but I think that people expect to much from miracles. As a Christian, I do believe in miracles, and I believe that God set up the rules for the universe. So, if God set up these rules why wouldn't he follow them? I mean, why can't miracles have scientific explanations?

I personally believe that babies are miracles. Its astounding anyone ever manages to get pregnant considering how exactly the right the timing has to be. Its a miracle babies are ever born when you look at the rates of miscarriage and all the things that can happen to a fetus (exposure to chemicals the mother can't avoid, random combinations of genes that result in diseases or lack of development, etc), and its a miracle that something so small and defenseless can survive.

So I think I have a laxer (yes, its a word. Its like lax, but -er) views on what miracles are than most people. I want to know what other people think. If you don't believe in God, do you still believe in miracles? What do you believe causes a miracle? Chance? The universe?

So...talk to me.

The PHONE! Finally! Rang!!!!

2007-07-08T20:28:00.000-05:00

I got a job! I got a job! I got a job! I got a job! I got a job!Jobjobjobjojbojbojob!

Hey did I tell you I got a new job? I will be a technical writer for an environmental assessment company.

Happy happy happy!

I have been dissatisfied with my current job for sometime now, and I finally got sick of my own complaining and went out and cold queried a company and 3 weeks later they offered me a job.

Geez, I'm good. Or else I am using all my job finding luck up early and later I will never be able to find a job. Or something. Whatever.

I got a job! I got a job! I got a job!

(Please hear the above in the form of a song and picture an accompanying dance of glee, which resembles the Roger Rabbit with more happy hip action).

2007-07-06T08:13:00.001-05:00

Blogger hates me and today's post is located under June 23rd for anyone who is interested. Sorry.

PS- Apparently I am the only one who finds gender issues remotely interesting

2007-07-03T15:01:00.001-05:00

Really? No one telling me I'm wrong? About how I'm going to hell?

No one trying to negate any of my thoughts? Or offer better supports? Nothing???

K, then. Just file it under navel gazing and we'll all soldier on.

New work on Friday, just like I promised. This one is a personal account of my own anecdotal experience and is in no way intended to make an argument or do anything other than provide a little insight into me and a certain portion of the population. There are no facts, just feelings.

But please do not be put off from critiquing. The subject matter may make you reluctant to do so, but please please please tell me your honest opinions.

See you Friday.

Tomorrow is a holiday. Ha ha.

2007-07-03T14:46:00.000-05:00

We have a new dog. We named her Stormy because 1) She roars around like a hurricane 2) our other dog is named Sunny and 3) yes, we really are those people who have matching names for their dogs. Look, it was either Stormy or Cher, okay? I couldn't name the dog Cher, I just couldn't. Because then I would be singing "I Got You Babe" all the time and then immediately following with "If I Could Turn Back Time" and really, no one wants that. No one.

So far, she seems to think that Sunny is the greatest thing since sliced cheese, and Sunny thinks possibly the newbie is mildly retarded. Sunny also thinks Stormy should not be allowed to eat food, drink water, pee in the yard, or, um, breathe. So that's been interesting. However, so far the puppy has proven to be housebroken and she has not destroyed anything yet.

I left before Michael this morning and as I shut the door I heard a couple of sad furry thuds. I thought she was just jumping at the door. Apparently, she was trying to get out the window to get to me. Sunny doesn't like me to leave but she's never flung herself at the window, which is, by the way, a good four feet off the ground.

(Do you still have If I Could Turn Back Time stuck in your head? You're welcome).

Anyway, she did pretty well with the sleeping arrangements, although she has a tendency to believe that anything under the covers is not actually there. She about gave Sunny a heart attack when she scrambled over the Sunny-lump and settled on her head.

She's a sweet little dog, which is a relief, and she seems to have a lot of personality. Unfortunately that personality seems to include flinging herself full force at whatever happens to be in front of her and doing backflips. She has absolutely no grace. Non. Nada.

Its amazing. The clumsiest person in the world managed to find the two clumsiest dogs in the world and we are all living in the same house.

Pray for my husband, I suspect he shall need it.

Such a slacker, already with the procrastinating

2007-06-29T10:26:00.000-05:00

I have had an insane week so already I am cheating on my project. That means you must be doubly hard on me next week because I will have used double time to accomplish something.

However, some random things:

Thing the first: We are getting the dog. When it was mentioned that the only other option was taking it to the pound I caved and we want her.

Thing the second: Something that really fascinates me is the use of animal names as verbs. The list I have come up with so far includes the following:
swanning around, haring off, chickening out, pigging out, snaking through, bird dogging something, butterflying porkchops...please include more in the comments.

Thing the third: I have been having alot of dreams involving snakes, especially cobras lately, so I looked into it. They can either be a reflection of my creative energy or an enemy working against me. In the dream with the snake eating the giraffe, the giraffe stands for either a warning against interfering in others' business or a warning that I am a huge liar. So, either my creative energy is eating my interference in anothers business or it is eating my lying (Maybe? because fiction is actually lying?) or its an enemy working against me and I am a huge liar or a busybody and my enemy is eating me? I do not know. Also, I have a dream where a giant cobra turns into a dinosaur. The dinosaur representing a fear of no longer being needed (which would make sense in light of the fact that I feel unneeded at work and feel like they are trying to get rid of me- I don't believe this is TRUE, I just think this could be what my brain made of my feelings?) and I also have a dream about a shark, which is either a greedy unscrupulous person, or a difficult emotional period for me- which, yeah. Why the people in the dream were outlining the choice cuts of their flesh and anchoring themselves down as food for the shark, I'm not sure. Any dream gurus have an opinion? People sacrificing themselves to a greedy person? People sacrificing themselves to a difficult emotional period? Maybe I'm sacrificing myself to feelings of hostility against certain people? Could be. Could be mumbo jumbo too. I am generally of the opinion that my dreams are more like blowing off excessive creative energy, but it is weird that these dreams have something of a common theme all in the same two weeks...

Still here?

Thing the fourth: There is something I can't talk about yet, but I am dying to, but I ABSOLUTELY cannot, so suffice it to say that when you are waiting for the phone to ring it never rings. A fact I learned in high school. Cute boys only called when they said they would if I made plans not to be home. So, either I will tell all next week, or never. Depending on what happens with the phone ringing and all.

This argument is in no way linear, barely sensical, and maybe trite, but here is a glimpse of the inside of my head anyway

2007-06-27T10:03:00.001-05:00

Lately, I have been reading alot about gender issues, about what gender is, and even having discussions with my transgendered cousin about different gender related themes.

Firstly, I read this novella, The Lockpick Pornographer, which is not for the faint of heart, but under all the graphic language and destructive descriptions of a self-destructive life raises some interesting questions. For one thing, is gender a societal construct or is it real?

I would say the answer to that is: both. Certain aspects of gender are decided by our hormones, and certain aspects are determined by the society we live in. For instance, in the modern American culture make-up, nice clothes, spending time primping is considered "feminine" or "girly". Not all societies view this to be the case. In fact throughout history and even in modern times you can find many examples of societies where the men do the dressing up and the primping and such just as much as, if not more than, the women. This is also true in nature, which brings about the argument for gender as a real scientific fact. The males of most species seem to be the most beautiful and spend the most time preening or showing off.

Also, I think if gender were completely a societal construct we would not have purely homosexual or purely heterosexual relationships. We would probably tend much more toward bisexuality. My reasoning for this is that, as a straight woman, I can believe that gender is a construct but that does not mean I will be sexually attracted to a woman. If gender is not real, then it shouldn't matter, and we should be more attracted to the person than to the package. Unfortunately, I don't believe it works that way. Also, gender is something of a scientific necessity as we need men to be attracted to women and women to be attracted to men in order to procreate and ensure the continuation of the species...

Also, if gender wasn't somewhat real I don't believe we would have transgendered people. People who believe they are the opposite gender from what their body says they are. Which is another topic that fascinates me, because of cultures that see these folks as a third gender, completely natural, and in some societies, closer to God or the universe because they incorporate both halves of themselves. Although this is a different issue for a different day because there is so much more to it, and also the issue of the higher suicide rate among completed transexuals etc. I'll have to come back to this another day.

On the other hand, many things people attribute to gender are completely constructed. Things like enjoyment of sports, manicures, spas, cars, and plenty of other totally superficial things have nothing to do with hormones, biology, etc. Testosterone is more plentiful in men and makes them tend towards a higher level of aggression, but this is not always the case and an aggressive girl is still a girl and she does exist. Of course this raises the issue of how important are hormones? Does a woman stop being a woman after a total hysterectomy and she stops producing estrogen? My instinct is to say no, but she may become less "feminine."

This argument is getting long, its plenty circular and I don't bring it up to propose any answers. I just wonder what other people think of this. So? What do you think?

Because what I really, really need is something else to be responsible for

2007-06-25T14:08:00.000-05:00

We might be getting a second dog. Well, a puppy anyway. Sort of a dog for our dog, if you will. Except I think she will hate us if we do that. A guy at work has a housebroken puppy that he needs to give away because his wife is pregnant with their second child and has enough trouble trying to keep up with one kid let alone one kid, a puppy, and a baby.

So. I smoked something really good apparently and decided it would be great if we took the dog. That my dog will hate because she likes to have us all to herself and does not share her toys well with others and may pout under a bed for 3 months.

We will be having a little meet and greet sometime this week to see how everything goes, and then we will make a decision.

Maybe I'll be off the crack by then and remember why one dog is sometimes one too many.

But really who could not want to at least meet this face?

How to save a life

2007-06-23T00:50:00.000-05:00

I am 5'7 and I think I weigh 145 pounds. This was the number on the scale the last time I was at the doctor's office a few months ago. I do not have a scale in my house. Scales are dangerous for me, because I have an eating disorder.

Most people would call my disorder anorexia. But its not quite that simple. My pattern is to go as long as possible without food, then binge, then starve. All the while working out at least two hours every day. Today, this year, these past few years I have eaten like a normal, healthy woman. But almost everyday is a battle.

I cannot remember a time when I ate regularly. I cannot remember a time before the disease. I remember being 12 and catching a stomach flu. I was happy about this because it meant I would lose more weight. That sounds vain, and self absorbed, and it is. But not in the way people tend to think. It was never about the size of my jeans. It was never about the number on the scale. The number on the scale became a dictator that indicated whether each day was good or bad. Good meant losing more weight, bad meant staying the same or gaining weight. When you are 5'7 and 110 pounds of bone, skin, and hair you don't lose a lot of weight; there aren't very many "good" days.

I looked awful. I knew looked awful. But I believed I looked awful in the first place, so it wasn't much of a deterent to stop what I was doing. I hated myself. I felt I was worthless, unattractive, and a waste of space. My goal was not to be thin and beautiful, my goal was to exert control over my own life and do what I wanted. What I really wanted was to disappear. My father was an abusive alcohol who showed barely a passing interest in my life. My mom was recovering from a nervous breakdown. My stepfather was an emotionally abusive jerk who never quite knew what to do with me. All my friends at school whispered about how weird I was, and how no boy would ever like me. It was passive suicide, and it was a torturous suicide because that's what I believed I deserved. If I died without enough punishment, it would be wrong somehow.

This continued through college. Along the way I made friends with people who encouraged this in me and participated in it themselves. We competed to see who could eat the least and exercise the most. Strangely, we never shared our weight with another, even as we all obsessively weighed ourselves.

When I met my husband I was beginning to believe this needed to end. I needed to shit or get off the pot, if you'll pardon the expression. He took me out on dates and I would eat because I didn't want him to know what a neurotic mess I was. He asked me to eat lunch with him just about every day, and I did. I began to work out more like a normal person. I still didn't feel I was worthy or of any value at all, but I began to see that maybe that wasn't entirely true, and if it was true then I still had time to change it. I hid the illness from him, and pretending to be normal and healthy helped me toward actually being healthy. However, Michael was never a dummy. We had a fight one night over my self-image. We almost broke up. At the time, I thought he was overbearing, controlling, and ridiculous. I mean, my God, its my self image and I'm entitled to any opinion of myself I want. It was weeks before I heard what he was really saying. He didn't want to get any more involved with someone who hated themself as much as I did. He didn't know the specifics, but he saw that my image of myself could lead to me harming myself. He would stop it if he could, but he wouldn't stick around for the trainwreck.

I started saying what he wanted to hear. I still couldn't see myself as beautiful or good. But the more I repeated it, the more I began to believe it. I started volunteering, and I started to think of other people more than myself. I started to believe that I was contributing to something important, something bigger than myself. Maybe what helped the most was volunteering at the soup kitchen. Seeing all these people involuntarily starving made me really think about all the food I had wasted and all the advantages I had. I learned to be grateful for my body in a way that had nothing to do with my looks. Both of my legs and both of my arms worked perfectly, my lungs were healthy, and I was capable of doing anything I wanted.

I still have control issues, I still have issues with my self-worth. But I have learned that sometimes confidence is not something that is given to you. Sometimes you have to fight for it. And today I can look you in the eye and tell you that I am beautiful, that I am a good person, and that I am not worthless.

It is a battle I fight every day, and so far, I'm winning.