Friday, December 05, 2003
Friday, have I told you lately, that I love you? As is usual on Fridays in my small office, the afternoon is dragging by. There is not much to be done, so I’ve been perusing (go me on the good word) the news. I’m about to get link happy. I’ll give a link to the article, my favorite line(s) and my comment. Ready?
Article 1: He and colleagues named it Colymbosathon ecplecticos, which means “swimmer with a large penis."
Okay, what are these guys, 12? I understand that this is oldest creature to have distinuishably male parts, but come on? And you know it was men, because otherwise it just would have been “swimmer with a penis.”
Article 2: "We will do everything we possibly can to get rid of this strange and ridiculous measure, which seeks to create a world without children,” said Felice Lioy, head of UPA, the main Italian association of firms that advertise.
Um, maybe the Italian government is just trying to create a world without advertising. Huh?
Article 3: I’m not gonna link this because I didn’t even read it. The title of the article is “Public Offered Chance at Free Trip to Iraq.” Who the hell came up with that great marketing ploy?
Article 4: A British breakfast television show was rapped by standards watchdogs Thursday for a feature on sex toys. ... [The Broadcasting Standards Commitee] dismissed another complaint about TV illusionist Derren Brown’s Russian roulette stunt on Channel 4 in October.
Well, at least we know that American’s are not the only ones with skewed people in media. *oozing sarcasm* Good thing they’ve got their priorities straight.
Article 4: I’m gonna post big bits of this one. Sorry.
Meiwes said there were “hundreds, thousands” of people seeking to fulfil their desires to eat humans or be eaten via Internet advertisements in forums called “Cannibal Cafe,” “Guy Cannibals” and “Torturenet.”
...Meiwes said he had kept his victim’s skull and plastic bags of flesh in his freezer. He ate about 44 pounds of the flesh, defrosting it bit by bit.
Meiwes said he became obsessed with wanting a younger brother—“someone to be part of me.”
Using the pseudonym “Franky,” he posted Internet ads saying: “If you are 18-25 you are my boy” or “Come to me I’ll eat your delicious flesh.”
Some 430 people responded to his e-mails within a year.
I think I’m gonna throw up. I mean, is this what the world is coming to? Is this the “progress” the internet has allowed us to make? You gotta be fcuking kidding me! I am appalled that this is going on. Okay, stepping off my moral high horse. I guess I shoud be happy that this didn’t happen in America. Yet.
And finally, I won’t even make any comments about this article. It’s hilarious and all women should read it. Men too. It will make you understand what we women go through for you.
...back to the highway.
Just two tidbits from my mundane life…
1. I went and got gas at lunch. I put the nozzle in and used the little hey you don’t need to hold this gadget, then trucked it inside to buy some smokes. So then I go back out, and I’m standing by the car waiting for the pump to click off. I hear a funky noise. I look down and there is gas pouring out of my tank, down my car and onto the ground. WTF? So I go back in and tell the guy that the pump didn’t shut off. He’s all “yeah, in cold weather that can happen because of” blah blah blah. Dude, don’t you think you could have told me this when I was inside 3 minutes ago? “Don’t worry, your car won’t blow up or anything,” he says. He’s missing the point. First, surely that isn’t good for the paint job. And Second, I’m glad I just had to pay for a $1.50 worth of gas that didn’t even go into my car, arsehole.
2. I am a enthusiastic waver. It makes me really frustrated when people don’t wave at you when you do something nice while driving. If I let you in front of me in bumper to bumper traffic because otherwise you’ll miss your exit, show me some love, dammit! Or, if you cut me off and I refrain from going Tiwanda on your ass, send a little wave of appreciation. Ya know? So I am a big waver. And today this lady let me in at a stop light and I waved at her once I was in front of her. And I was smiling. And I thought, how weird. She can’t see my face. I guess the act of the wave just made me happy.
i’m gonna do the lowercase thing today. because i can, and because i’m feeling a little introspective. not introspective in the delve into my soul sense, more like the i want to be quiet and curl into the fetal position sense. i think i just have a hangover.
last night was drummer boy’s last night. i’m sad. i wasn’t as close with him as i was with donut, but i’ll miss him none the less. i’ll miss the way i can’t understand a word out of his mouth when he’s sober. i’ll miss the way i can understand every word out of his mouth when he’s drunk. that’s a first for me. as with all american’s (who live in america) who meet people from other countries, i find it’s usually the other way around. with current man, for instance, it was weeks before i could understand him drunk. anway, i’ll miss those bright blue eyes and the way he speed talks when he’s excited. we sent him off properly - with a big american steak and lots of shots. every time current man and i said we were gonna leave, drummer boy would buy a round of shots. damn him! he knows we can’t resist free shots. i haven’t had that many goldschlagger shots in weeks, and it reminded me of one of the coolest gifts i’ve ever gotten.
this guy from the pub gave it to me. he’s funny. for the first three months or so that i knew him, he didn’t know my name. i was just “the babysitter”. i got this name from keeping not only current man, but all the scottish boys out of too much trouble in the pub. back before current man started drinking beer, we used to live on shots. we could take between 8 and 12 shots in a night. each. this was also during the period when we took cabs home every night. i am a goldschlagger girl. that is my number one shot of choice in a pub. current man used to be the same, but he’s switched to rumple (blecht!). once this guy finally learned my name, he gave me this shot glass to apologize for calling me the babysitter for so long.
the shotglass is one of the tall ones. the whole glass is made up of upward spiral-y things. and in gold letters it says:
find your
G
spot
Goldschlagger
you dirty boys and girls! you thought this was gonna be a sex post, didn’t you? come on admit it. i’m on to you!
...back to the highway.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
DISCLAIMER: This entire entry will consist of me bitching. If you are tired of hearing me moan about the world, don’t read it.
1. My energy company dropped me. I am being forced to go to Reliant. Today, I had to pay them $100.00 to keep them from turning off my electricity tomorrow. I cried, fcuk you.
2. Dragon Lady decided I needed to delete everything from QuickBooks and start over, reentering everything. That is how I spent my whole day. Fcuk you.
3. At work, we get two floating holidays a year. I didn’t become eligible to take mine until November 25. If I don’t use them before the end of the year, I lose them. Boss denied my request to have December 12 off, because he isn’t going to be here. It’s the day after my birthday, and a Friday. Fcuk You.
4. I have roll-o. This will lead to chowda. FCUK YOU.
5. I then asked Boss if I could have off December 15 instead (as he will be back and this would still allow me my three day birthday weekend). He said no because this is the busiest time of year for us, and we need to take care of the customers. Yeah, those three whole orders we will get that day will really damage business by going out on Tuesday instead of Monday. All well and good for you, Mr. I Only Come In for a Few Hours a Day. You and your I Have Nothing Better To Do wife. You know what I have to say to that?
FCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK YOOOOOOOOOOOU!
...back to the highway.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
I normally write in the mornings. Today, however, I couldn’t think of anything to say. Did I hit my peak to soon? Or even worse, did I drag myself up 1:37 mountain, walk around to the other side and then come rolling down, missing the peak entirely? I’m pretty sure it wasn’t either one.
I didn’t sleep well last night. Even when I do sleep well, I’m still usually tired, so having not slept well did not bode well for this day. Gordon and I went to the pub with Drummer Boy (Gordon’s roommate, for whom I finally have created a name) last night. I switched from my normal screw driver to a Colorado Bulldog. Sooooo tasty! It’s just a white Russian with a splash of coke in it. Normally I don’t drink these because they are dangerous. They taste like a (runny) chocolate milkshake and they go down smoother than water. Unfortunately, they give me really bad hangovers, so I tried to be good and I only had a couple. The reason for this sudden switch? My throat hurt. And not like I am getting sick kind of hurt. Like I’d been at the Notre Dame v. Nebraska game in 1999. I guess maybe my brain was screaming my thoughts so loud inside my head that my throat felt it should be raw. I don’t know.
Anyway, so upon getting home, Gordon passed right out. And then, just as I settled into bed, he woke back up. For some reason, he has taken to entertaining himself recently. No, not that kind of entertaining! He’s like a four year old. He makes up songs and sings them to himself and then bursts out laughing at his own geni-arse. This is a nice change from the grumpy man I used to get in the vodka and coke days.
Now that he has switched to beer once again, he has noticed a severe increase in his pissing frequency. Sorry, that’s probably TMI, but it’s my site dammit(!), and I’ll write whatever I want. I think in the hour between passing out the first time and the second time he went 4 times. That is a lot of pee. Anyway, we finally went to sleep. At 1 a. fcuking m. I wake up and blah blah blah I end up sleeping on the futon. I slapped him awake and asked if he would also like to sleep on the futon, but he said no. Ewww. I left the futon up like a couch and just laid down. So (with difficulty) back to sleep I went. Flash Forward two more fcuking hours. It is now a little after 3. And I am (unhappily) awakened once again. I find Gordon on top of me. Rather than wake me up nicely and tell me to get up so he could open the futon, he was on top of me, BOUNCING, trying to make room for himself. WTF?!?!?! I jumped up with a loud GOD DAGordonIT CURRENT MAN! And what does he have the balls to say to me?
Gordon: “Don’t you get pissy with me.”
MD: “Why the hell not, I asked if you wanted to sleep here and you said no.”
Gordon: “Oh yeah, (with a big stupid grin and a little giggle) Well the doors open. Bye c-ya.”
Now, I know I should have walked straight out… Well, put my clothes back on and walked straight out, but I didn’t. Mainly because if I had, I would have been really awake and would not have gone back to sleep once I got home. But this morning, I began to wonder. What was that giggle all about? Was he joking? Was he just pleased with himself for making sure I would hardly sleep at all? Was it a mean spirited giggle? Or should I take it for what it was: A drunken attempt to make me laugh. Most would not see this, but I know Gordon, and that’s exactly the kind of thing he thinks is funny when he’s Georged*.
My friends might ask (this is for you Sarah) why I stay with someone like Gordon. And they are right. I do put up with an abnormally big amount of shit. Even Cranky Barman and Sporty Barman have been amazed by me and my tolerance. Of course, the stuff that they say they couldn’t tolerate is the stuff that doesn’t bother me at all. I put up with Gordon’s shit, yes. But 99% of that shit occurs when he’s drunk. He usually doesn’t mean anything by it (which after 2 years I am well aware of) and he never remembers. I on the other hand am a jealous, slightly possessive, whining, bitch. I get pissed over stupid things. I rant. I cry. I get really whiny when I don’t get my way.
Some people will wonder what those two things have to do with each other. Well, I’ll tell you. When Gordon is giving me his drunken shit, I’m usually drunk too (which sometimes leads to me blowing said shit out of proportion, but often the alcohol just softens the blow of his shit storm). I on the other hand, throw all my shit sober. And he’s sober. And we both remember. And we both usually wish we could forget. And usually I do it, not necessarily on purpose, but knowing full well what I’m doing. I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone, but it does to me. It all balances out. We work well together. I understand and tolerate his bullshit and he understands and tolerates mine. Usually the shit we throw at each other is a direct reflection of stresses that have nothing to do with the other person. And we know that. And we just keep on keepin on.
*Georged: To be George-of-the-jungle-watch-out-for-that-tree Drunk.
...back to the highway.
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Sorry about my absence. Something was wrong with my site. Something about a missing slash or something. So. Here I am. And man, does it suck to be me at the moment. They aren’t kidding about that “when it rains, it pours” deal are they? In the last week and a half, my expenses have gotten a little overwhelming (can you ever just be whelmed?). That’s actually an understatement. They’ve become very overwhelming. After blowing a quick $120 dollars on my car inspection and registration (both of which were out of date, go me!), I got hit with another whopper last night.
I checked my mail and found a post card that said “Dear Customer, You have been switched over to Reliant Energy.” Huh? I love my energy company. They are cheap and they don’t really give you any hassle. Which I guess is why I’m in so much trouble. I called Company G and was told I had been booted for not paying my bill. I paid them (in full) last night. In fact, that is why I checked my mail, because I knew I needed to call that shit in. My bill was due November 25. While on the phone, they tell me that the process of booting me started November 17, but I didn’t officially get the boot until 9 a.m. yesterday morning. Fcuking 9 hours before I called! They told me I could appeal but that I needed to call back today at 8 a.m. to do so and they would transfer me to the appropriate person.
So I call Company G again this morning. The guy on the phone was a total arsehole. He kept saying that there was no one I could talk to about this, and that he was the appropriate person for me to talk to (I do not believe this for one minute). He told me he would send my appeal on to the appropriate people and that it would take 48 hours. Fine. He also said that they sent me two notices saying I was gonna get the boot. Um, no. I went through every piece of mail I could find, and nothing. He didn’t believe me of course, but for serious the first I knew about it was that damn post card in my mailbox.
Further inspection of my mail last night revealed a notice from Reliant saying that if I don’t send them a $100 deposit before December 1, they are gonna disconnect my power. WTF? There is nothing they can do apparently, to extend this date. They will not wait for the result of my appeal (which, btw, they say should take 48 DAYS, not 48 hours). I can not afford to pay them until I get my next paycheck, which won’t be until next Friday. Dammit!
Guess it’s gonna be pretty dark in MissDirected Manor pretty soon. I would say “no biggie” about this, but there are a few things I need power for. The first and most obvious is the TV. Kidding. It’s Sophie. She stays in her crate at my house all day long. I always leave a light on for her (since she’s in the laundry closet*) and I know she’s always warm. Oops. Also, my fish. No light, no air bubbles… And finally, not that I have a lot in my fridge and freezer, but what I do have there cost money, and I’m not willing to waste it. How about this, Reliant? I will cook all the food in my freezer and serve it up to you on a platter, and you waive the $100 deposit. Sound good?
This also wouldn’t be a big deal if I didn’t have a $100 phone bill. And since my parents are giving me my car insurance for my birthday (in 9 days), I can’t exactly ask them for money. Oh, and my car payment is due.
Fcuk me.
* Please don’t think I’m cruel to my dog. Off of the kitchen I have a room that would be where the washer/dryer went if I had one. It’s a long rectangle. The Washer is supposed to go in one end and the dryer is supposed to go in the other. There is a big long hanging bar that runs between them. The door stays open and the light stays on. I’m not trapping her in the laundry closet. Okay, well, I am, since she’s crated, but you know what I mean.
...back to the highway.
Monday, December 01, 2003
Well, it’s over. No more family fun for a full month. Yay! It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. It never is. I just dread going out to my parent’s house. This year I got a really good burn in on my mom which pretty much shut her up for the duration of my stay. Wednesday afternoon I got to leave early from work, so I went home, got packed, and headed for the pub. After several screwdrivers and several shots, it was time to head out to The Folks. Upon my arrival, we ate some tasty grub and just caught up with each other. I discovered that my cousin, who will hence be known as Cool Cousin is the most like me of everyone on that side of my family. Hopefully, Gordon and I will get to pay her a visit sometime soon. I ended up with a hangover long before I even went to bed, so I was grumpy when my (already) cranky mom asked me to help her make the bed. So here we are, trying to put sheets on an air mattress that hardly fits in the room, and Cool Cousin’s daughter is sitting where I need to be. She finally leaves and my mom yells at me. I make some witty retort and she says “You know what, you always have an excuse.” And I came back with, “Yeah, well you’ve always got a criticism--I wonder where I learned it from.” HooHah! She didn’t like that at all. It kept her off my back though, so it was worth it.
Turkey day was actually quite good. I went out to smoke a cigarette, and saw a strange car pull in my driveway. And who should hop out, but family I haven’t seen in about ten years! My aunt and her two kids. I was suprised at both how big the kids were and also that, despite the fact we all thought those two snotty brats would grow up to be selfish, spoiled hooligans, they both turned out really great. Very sweet, well spoken, and (damn them!) thin, tall, and cute. Everything was going great until about 6ish when I said I was gonna go home soon. I figured if I started then I would get to leave before 9. Wrong. If it’s one thing that sucks about Thanksgiving, it’s that your entire family is there to give you a guilt trip. Even my dad, who two weeks ago said he completely understood my desire to leave Thursday night because, and I quote, I “have a life and things [I] need to take care of at home”, was shoveling guilt onto me. I finally got out of the house around 9:30, and that is only because half the family was upstairs struggling to get The Energizer Bunny (Cool Cousin’s young daughter) to bed.
Once I was finally homeward bound, the weekend was great. I went to Gordon’s and found he wasn’t home. When I spoke to him around 1:00, he told me he was headed for the pub. I figured he would be passed the fcuk out. Nope! He restrained himself and took Sophie to the park instead. He was still at the pub when I got home, so I got to go and have a few drinks. Friday was great. We woke up pretty early and just laid around watching movies. Once we finally got up, we took Soph back to the park and watched her run through big puddles (which she loves) and then run around faster trying to dry off. She spent about 40 minutes just chasing dead leaves on the ground as the wind blew them. It was fun. Then, of course, we went to the pub. It was a fun time as usual. Then, we went home and yeehaw I got some more booty. This is a record. I haven’t gotten it two weeks in a row in probably a year.
Saturday, we got up early again. And then we didn’t move. We ordered in lunch, and we laid in bed all day. Gordon tried to torture me by making me watch some stupid video game all morning. When he had finally had enough of that, he put on some stupid movie that he knows I hate. I read my book through the whole thing. I started trying to get him out of the bed around 6 to go to the pub, but he wouldn’t budge. We created a new record for ourselves. We didn’t even get to the pub until after midnight! Cranky Barman went into shock when he saw us. It was weird being there that late. For starters, we hang out with the early crowd. So the late night crowd was completely unknown to us. Among them were a old lady dressed in stripper clothes and an up and coming rock star who’s been touring in L.A. (this story was confirmed by Cranky Barman, who went to high school with him). I guess the strangest part was not being the drunken fools. We got to make fun of other people for once. It was interesting. After they kicked us out of the pub, we went shopping at Wal Mart, went home and watched a movie. I nearly died when we crawled into bed and the clock said 4:58. I haven’t been up that late in ages! I suddenly felt about 90 years old. Oh well. Yesterday was another lazy day. Gordon cooked the turkey he got from his boss, along with roast tatties and chessy cauliflower. Yum.
Watched the new Tomb Raider movie last night. And I just have to put this question out there: Did it not look like that orb was just a yellow glass ball with dice inside? And why did she have to kill the cute Scotsman? Couldn’t she have just beat him up, knocked him out, and then pushed the box back in the gunk?
Wow. If I slept through my life it would be more entertaining.
...back to the highway.
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
I hate the holidays. I am going to The Folk’s house tonight. I’m dreading it. I will be seeing family I haven’t seen since last Thanksgiving, and I’m not even looking forward to it a little. I would rather stay home with a book and some vodka. Shit, I’d really rather be at the pub with Sarah, Gordon, and Gordon’s roommate. If I didn’t think it would cause world war three, I would bail on the fam and just go tomorrow. Unfortunately, that is not how my family works. I’m expected to be helpful, cheery, and talkative. Three things I’m not feeling at the moment. Any deviation from this will cause a catastrophic wave of fury and I will be reminded for years to come how I single-handedly ruined Thanksgiving 2003. Of course, this is due in part to the fact that my mother has recently spent about a million dollars upgrading the house. We haven’t had Thanksgiving at our house in almost 10 years, so my mom is really just using this as a showcase for the new house and so she can tell about all her hard work (she hired a decorator) and talk about how beautiful it all is. Was that a run on sentence, or what?
In addition to (and perhaps contributing to) my foul mood, Dragon Lady has been in the office all day. For five fcuking hours she sat practically in my lap (you think I’m kidding--she was about a foot or less away from me) and asked me to tell her every little thing I’m doing and then to justify why I’m doing it. I did something on her instructions, it came out wrong, and suddenly she was talking to me like I’m an idiot for trying such a stupid thing. AAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH!
On a totally unrelated topic:
Welcome zenwanderer" target="_blank" >http://mymonkeymind.blogspot.com">zenwanderer! To clarify my last statement of my last post…
Gordon and I do have a strong relationship, but it will not last. I’m not sure either of us wants it to. He doesn’t ever want to get married (for legitamate reasons that I understand). I don’t know if I do or not. He will not ever be in the same room with my mother. He doesn’t believe in God. I do, and he looks down on my intelligence because of it. No, I do not believe that we will stay together. He’s 32. I’m 24 (25 in 15 days!). People always ask me how I can date someone I know I won’t marry. I’m not ready for marriage. Not by a long shot. No women in my family marry until they are in their thirties, and I see myself going the same route. Why should I be trying to find “the one” right now when I am so sure I’m not ready to be somebody elses “one”? No point if you ask me. Until I think I’m ready, I’m just gonna have fun. And that is something Gordon and I have a lot of together. We make each other happy...for now.
...back to the highway.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
So here it is. Pretty much the only people who read this site already know this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to put it in print.
I never get any.
That’s right. Me and sex are mere acquaintances. This might not seem like a big deal to some, but when you’ve had a man for two years, you are expected to be getting regular booty. Not so.
When Gordon and I met, he had a girlfriend. I did not know this. He kept talking about all the girls all over the world that he was dating. I knew that was a lie just by the way he said it. We met on a Tuesday night--the anniversary of my breakup with the man I thought would be my husband. Through a strange turn of events, I ended up back at his hotel. We listened to The Cure and talked and held hands. We eventually went into the bedroom, and I told him straight up that he wasn’t getting any booty. And he said something that made me instantly want to see him again.
“It can wait. We have plenty of time.”
He was going out of town the next morning at 6:30 a.m. I had to go to work. I don’t think we fell asleep until about 5. I asked him, just before drifting off to sleep, if when he got back he wanted “to go out, like, on a date.” That moment changed both our lives. He has told me that if I had not asked him that, he would not have asked for my number. After two years, I have never been so glad I asked such a stupid question. He got back a week later, and (much to my surprise) called me. He asked if he could take me out to dinner. I don’t think I had ever been asked on a real date. I had the super perma-grin kickin. I cleaned my house. I bought some new threads. We went for mexican and then back to the pub. I asked him how many girlfriends he really had. And he sucker punched me with “One. But ask me again tomorrow.” Yowza. True to his word, he called up the girl, took her to lunch, and ended it.
And thus began the Georgia Alliance.
We didn’t sleep together for a while. We wanted it to be the right time. We wanted to be completely sober. And when it happened, it was heart on fire toe curling good. And it was also tears in the eye this world is a new and beautiful place kind of good. As I’ve said before, Gordon was never around, so the honeymoon period never really ended. Every time he came home it was like we were just meeting. Each time we got to know each other. Each time we rediscovered each other.
But then he stopped going away. And we found our comfort zone. Damn comfort zone! He got a promotion, and I lost my job. I was stressed. He was stressed. We were stressing about each other’s stress. It was a stressful time. Despite all the (sorry) stress, I remained hungry for him. I craved him. I wanted to feel loved, beautiful. I ached for his touch. And I did not get it. Eventually his stress passed, and I figured we would be back on track. And then, standing in my kitchen, he said words that will remain with me for the rest of my life.
“I’m just bored with the sex. Oh gosh, I’m sorry, don’t look at me like that please. It’s not you. I always get bored. It’s happened with every girl I’ve dated. In fact, normally, even going offshore, I’ve gotten bored long before now.”
And so ended some of the greatest sex of my life. Not that I’ve had an abundance, but it was good. I tried so hard to bring him back to me. His Christmas present came from Vicki’s. There were pig tails, big black boots, and hand cuffs. His birthday present came from the Triple X Mega Plex. He watched it without me. And then he criticized the filming, acting, and plot. There is nothing quite like feeling completely unattractive to someone you love. I don’t think I’m beautiful. I wouldn’t even call myself pretty. But feeling like he doesn’t think those things is gut wrenching.
Why stay with him? I’ll tell you.
Because he does think I’m beautiful. He loves me. He wants to be with me. And he shows it in a million ways. Just not that one so much anymore. Don’t get me wrong. From time to time (as evidenced by my post yesterday) I do get the good lovin. This weekend’s lovin’ was even prefaced by something I hadn’t heard in a while. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” (We were never big on the I love you’s). But everyone knows that life is about the little things.
He makes me tea when I’m sick after a night at Local Pub.
He cooks me dinner every night.
He always lets me pick the video, and he never gives me shit if it sucks.
He lets me win at pool (but only if he thinks I won’t notice).
Every time he stops at the Quickie Mart he asks if I need anything.
He watches Harry Potter every single night because it puts me right to sleep.
He even takes care of Sophie. He takes her to the park, feeds her, and bathes her when he knows I can’t.
It’s the little things. It’s him unlocking the door for me and volunteering to drive. It’s the fact that even if he’s running low on cash, if I have a bad day he takes me out for a drink. He let’s me cry. He holds me tight and let’s me sob for any reason at all. He hates my mom but doesn’t say much about it because he knows it makes me mad. He bought me a ticket to go to his home and meet his family. He even taught me how to say his sister’s name because he knew I didn’t want to sound like an arse. That may not sound like much, but it took me a long time to get it right. And I do get some stuff.
I get lots and lots of smooches. From the “Hi honey how was your day?” smooch to the “Damn baby you look good in that shirt” smooch and every thing in between.
Why stay? Because I have made some choices.
Would I rather have…
All the sex, none of the affection? No.
No sex, no affection? No.
All the affection, all the love, all the laughs, some of the sex? Damn right.
It may not be ideal, but it’s not forever either.
...back to the highway.
I have learned my first thing from this blog. I say okay. A lot. I mean, I feel like a broken record. Not really. And why do people say “broken record”? Broken would imply snapped in half. Shouldn’t it be “scratched record”? Sorry, off track. I’ve also noticed that I am a really choppy writer. I’m not always. If I plan what I’m gonna say then I can write perfectly smooth. I guess because this blog is mostly a live streaming of my thoughts… Oh, and one more discovery: I hate paragraphs. I would be more than happy to write an entire novel and have it all be one paragraph. I have to make a seriously conscious effort to make new paragraphs. Am I weird? I am getting better at that kind of stuff. I used to write all in lowercase and I wasn’t a big fan of punctuation. Did you know that is a sign that you are an introvert? Lowercase writing I mean. I’m on the line. When taking the introvert/extrovert test, I score exactly the same on both parts. I am weird. And I am having a serious sugar high crash.
Look! New Paragraph! After reading an abundance of other blogs, I have come up with one other discovery. I have nothing to offer at the moment. I have few deep thoughts. I am not quite ready to delve into the depths of my soul and find out things about myself. I am just short of ready to stand on the 10 meter platform, print my fears, mistakes, and insecurities, release them and dive off into a pool of freedom. I don’t lead a very interesting life. I have had no serious drama. Most of my life revolves around the pub (which is kinda sad). All I have to offer is a daily recount of my previous day’s victories and defeats. It’s not much. It’s not really exciting. It’s just me. And I think that’s enough for me.
Okay. So today is office Thanksgiving day. Unfortunately, I was not sent the email saying that we could wear jeans today, so I’m looking slightly uncool in an office sea of blue. I was informed that it is “Bring some good food so everyone can stuff their faces and get nothing done” day today. Unfortunately (again), we had a QuickBooks master out trying to fix our giant mess. My head is spinning and my brain hurts. I also have a “lord have mercy on drivers that piss me off” sugar high. Luckily, I won’t be driving today at lunch. The streets are safe from Road Rush today. Due to the nature of this week, I’m postponing my secret post from Wednesday til Friday. Heckle all you want, but as work is the only place I get to write these thoughts, I’m kinda in a bind. I’m going to The Folk’s house tomorrow night, so I will try and get in some writing there. Maybe even a drunk post. You know, that is the one thing that really sucks about Gordon not knowing about this site. I’m always with him when I’m drunk, so I never get to drunk post. As the queen of the drink and dial, I think this would be super fun (super dangerous, as well). So maybe Wednesday night. Drunkenness would make the post easier. Am I doing a good job with my teaser campaign? Aren’t you just itching to know what the hell I’m talking about? Oh well. You’ll have to wait. Hopefully, I’ll have another mindless moment to jot some more thoughts down later.
Monday, November 24, 2003
But that’s gone
We don’t think that way no more
That’s gone, turn around, turn the volume down
We’re counting the days down
Till the day when we live in a video
I’ll be stone-faced and pale
You’ll pout in stereo
24 hours every day of the year
Oh, what fun I can’t wait ‘til the future gets here
Cheery, huh?
Hoo Rah!!!! An excellent weekend. Well, mostly. Friday night we hit a little speed bump. Went to Local Pub for a few drinks. Gordon’s back was hurting, so we didn’t stay long. Maybe an hour and a half or so. So I get to the pub, and I run my checklist. Car: locked. Keys & Smokes: left jacket pocket. Cell: Right jacket pocket. Jacket: on. So in I go! After a few games of pool (which of course I lost miserably) I got hot and took my coat off. Now, on average I’d say we know 98% of the people in Local Pub at all times. Sometimes newbies come by, but they don’t usually stay long. So, I took off my coat and put it on my bar stool and then sat on it. Seems like a good way to keep my coat from being stolen, right? Yeah, my coat. Only my coat. So we’re leaving the pub and I get to the car and I decide to make a phone call. Left pocket: smokes (keys are in hand). Right pocket: empty. What? Empty? Who could commit such a heinous act as snatching someone’s life line to the outside world? Bastards. So alas, my cell phone was gone. Apparently, my good friend Irony was trying to kick my ass, since just Friday afternoon I was telling Sarah how much I loved my phone.
So after calling the three people whose number I had memorized to tell them my tragedy, I… More on that later.
Saturday morning (well, afternoon) when I finally dragged my unhappy butt out of bed, I called my phone service. Now, as I am both accident prone and I tend to misplace things, I know I paid for insurance on my phone. Well, not according to my service provider. Nope, they told me I would have to buy a new phone instead of insurance covering it and me just having to pay the difference in cost of the two models. So of course, I called my mom crying. I can’t really afford any extra expenses at the moment, and forking over a hundred bucks for a phone is not in my budget. Mom calmed me down and told me to cowboy up. So I did. I sent Gordon off to the pub and went to get a phone. I walked into the store, walked right up to the guy and said:
Me: “I need a new phone.”
Him: “Excuse me?” (Apparently they are not used to such blunt words)
Me: “My phone got stolen, I need a new one, and it needs to be cheap because I really can’t afford this right now.”
Him: “What’s your number?... Okay. That will be $20.”
Me: “WHAT?!?!?!”
Him: “You said it was stolen, right? Well that’s covered under your insurance.”
Okay, first of all, fuck you service provider man! They lied to me. They would have more than happily charged me $150 over the phone and sent me a new phone with many features I could care less about. Second, YAY! I got a new phone with tons of fun features that I don’t care about for a grand total of $21.64! I now have a fun color screen and games that include bowling. How cool is that? The only thing that still sucks is that I’ve lost all my numbers. Numbers I have no way of getting again. Bummer.
Sunday was a typical, wonderful Sunday. We watched movies, ate pizza, and were all around lazy bums. We took a 3 hour nap in the afternoon, which while great at the time, contributed to a very fitful sleep last night. Oh well.
However, the biggest news this weekend (and I’ll say it twice because I got it twice):
I got some boooooooooooo-tay! That’s right!
I got some boo-tay!
...back to the highway.
Friday, November 21, 2003
How stupid can you be? I mean, please people. If you want to giggle at the sheer idiocy of the human race, read this.
I am of course bored at work today, so I was cruising some sites. Then I remembered the blog that really started off my virtual peeping. There hasn’t been much activity on this site recently, but the older entries are worth a read.
And a great big, Texas sized YEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAAAAAW to me, because I become eligible for insurance at my company in 4 days. Insurance. Wow. I haven’t had insurance in 18 months. Good gawd. I can not wait to go to the dentist! No. I’m serious. Stop laughing. I have a really big thing about teeth. And after 18 months, my teeth are not looking so good. Okay, really they look fine, but I can seriously tell it’s been that long.
And damn. This guy just sneezed so loud it echoed around my office. He was not in the office when he did this. Okay. Here is your random thought for the day:
The average sneeze comes out of your nose at 100 miles per hour. If the entire population of China put their faces 2 inches from the ground and all sneezed at the same time, would the pressure on the earth be great and sudden enough to cause a tsunami?
Think about it.
...back to the highway.
Disclaimer: This post is really funny to me. As I told Sarah, I am tired, hungry, and hungover. I am at the point of delerium. The writing is kinda jumpy. I am not sorry, but I will pretend to be if you want me to.
This day sucks. I’m not even sure why. Normally, I love Fridays. I’m comfy in my favorite brown boots and a hoodie shirt. Dragon Lady (formally known as Boss’ Wife (thanks Helen)) is not here yet. I have actually been busy this morning, and a good kind of Friday busy at that. Mindless, repetitive, this is just taking up time work. I’m not sure what it is that’s making me so blecht. Okay, I do know a little bit.
Went for steakandbeer last night at Local Pub. Mad Dog (his real name, not an alias) was there. I love Mad Dog. He tries to spend money. He quietly told Cranky Barman to run his tab for open bar for an hour. WOOHOO! OPEN BAR! So, when no one was making a mad run for shots, he started buying shots for the bar. He bought 3 rounds of about 35 shots. We had our cheapest tab ever, since Mad Dog picked up most of it. So that explains the headache.
This morning, I happened to wake up and look over at the alarm clock. Holy Living Shit Storm! 7:55 (7:27 in real world time)! Gordon must have hit that button that resets the alarm! FCUK!!!! I hate waking up like that. It sucks. Threw my hair in a pony tail (side note: Why is it called this? Do we women look like horses?) and brushed my teeth and booked out the door. Luckily, I didn’t have to walk to Uzbekistan to find my car like I usually do. I surprisingly got a good parking spot. I don’t know what fucktards designed Gordon’s apartment complex, but I think they were stoned.
“Duuuuude! Let’s build a bunch of nice buildings, put them in a good part of town and like, charge people lots of money to live there!”
“Totally! Then, we can like, mess with ‘em. Hmm… How should we mess with them?”
* Drug induced pondering… *
“Oh man! I totally know! Let’s build apartments for four hundred people and then - get this - we’ll only have enough space to make like, one hundred and fitty parking spots!”
“Sweeeeeeeeet! Mmmm… Sweets… Got any like, donuts?”
Butt heads.
Gordon and I gave Cranky Barman his FCUK EWE shirt last night. He laughed hysterically for a few minutes and then rushed in the bathroom and put it on. I’m so happy he liked it! I passed out on the couch when we got home. Only a man would put the sheets in the wash before work and then not come home and put them in the dryer until 10:30 at night. And his dryer takes for - ev - er. We were watching Finding Nemo ("Oh, look at me! I’m gonna go and touch the butt!"). So good.
Let’s talk about fire alarms. Now, I am a woman that can sleep through just about anything. I once slept through a flood (for serious) in my dorm room. Screaming girls, screaming RA, screaming spanish speaking maintenance person. Me, out cold. My roommate and I used to regularly sleep through fire alarms. You know, the kind of 4 a.m. fire alarm designed to weed out drunk, passed-out men in the girls dorms. Okay, maybe you don’t know. I went to an all women’s college. That should explain a few things. So those were loud fire alarms. But today. Hoo-hah. They were testing the fire alarm at work. Ear piercing. “Standing within 100 feet of this building may cause deafness” kind of loud. Why is it that things like that always happen when you have a hangover headache? I mean, the only time you ever hear a jack hammer at a construction site, an 18 wheeler without a muffler, or a “Houston, we can hear you from the moon” fire alarm is when you already have a headache. Bummer.
You might be wondering about the title of this post. It pretty much refers to me being a chicken. There is something I want to write about, but putting in print, for anyone to see, is really hard for some reason. It’s not even something really bad. I’m just having a hard time with it. So I chickened out. However, I am vowing to myself that I will write this (very long) post before Wednesday, at 1:37 p.m. (an excellent time). Feel free to heckle if I don’t.
...back to the highway.
