Friday, December 28, 2007


Okay, SALLYACIOUS, I get it, you are in LONDON.




Damn girl, I hope you are having a freaking awesome time.

However, it has now been over a year and I still don't know how to f*cking get my sexy on.


Damn Justin Timbrelake. C*ck Sucker. F*ck you. I don't think I'll ever figure out how to get my sexy on, I mean, I had a year and I still can't get it.

Did ANYONE figure out how to get their sexy on this year? Because I could use some guidance.

Stupid Justin.

I hate you.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Post Party Wrap Up (And yes, I am the most paranoid dork ON EARTH)

I wish I could tell you that I made out with someone at my party, that people wound up naked in my pool and that I have blackmail pics to fund my retirement but no. Of the 25 invited guests eleven showed up. I think it is incredibly rude to RSVP for three additional guests and insist on bringing food only to cancel fifteen minutes into when the party is supposed to start but I guess I just must be old fashioned. Ah well.

We has some drinks, told some stories, and by 10ish people were already moving out. It lasted about three hours. I put lights on the tree and forced guests to decorate it for me. The tree looks fine, albeit horribly lopsided as after someone tried to "fix" it it started lilting to the left and fell over. I've secured it to the wall with nylons and picture screws.

I learned a few important things; I already knew that if you say six it means seven but now I know that even if someone totally RSVPs and absolutely gaurantees that they will be there this means nothing. I have learned that guest do no want veggies with dip, they want hot foods. I have learned that sodas look best if served in nice goblets, that real adults do not use plastic cups (damnit!) and that Oingo Boingo is more universal than I previously thought.

I'm still amazed at people. If they are asked to RSVP they won't. If they do they won't show and if they don't they will come with several friends and perhaps even small children. I just don't get it I guess.

Nothing got stolen. Nothing was broken. No one puked in my apartment. Overall? A success.

Now, if only I had gotten to randomly make out with someone. I guess there is always New Year's Eve.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

It turned out great

Am a dork.

A paranoid dork.

People actually showed up!


Trying not to cry

Okay, I know that six means seven but still. It is six thirty and no one is here.

The memorial sucked.

Someone who RSVP'd for THREE even though only she was invited just fucking flaked.

All the food is out.

All the candles are lit.

All the lights are out.

I'm going to cry.

No one is here.

9 hours and counting

'Til my soiree


I mean, no. I am a veritable mini Martha; calm, cool, level headed and liable to stab you if you so much as shoot me a sideways glance. I have a tree (If only I'd read Ms. Squirrel's comment first). I have wine glasses, a fair amount of booze, soft drinks, tea, coffee, mixers, gatoraide, milk and eggnog. I'm providing cheese, fruit, veggies, chips dip and some luncheon meats and demanded that other people bring hot foods.

My apartment isn't ready.

The food isn't totally ready.

I'm not ready.

My house is filled with food and there is nothing to eat for breakfast.

I'm terrified that no one is going to show up and I'll be left alone like an idiot and a loser trying to explain to maybe the one person that shows up why they were expecting a party and it is just the two of us. (I hope this one person is not male because I don't want them getting any ideas.)

Although, if you too are thrust into throwing a party filled with people you don't quite know, on a budget you don't have, in an apartment the size of a postage stamp then you too should call Maya and hysterically ramble for a few minutes. It helps. She is a wedding planner so I imagine she's dealt with socially phobic nut cases on a daily basis in her lifetime.

In the midst of this though life keeps trucking forward; I found out late last night that a relative lost her pregnancy pretty far along and there is a memorial today in just a couple of hours. I'm going to leave the pictures I planned to hang grouped on the floor as is, the kitchen floor is going to be swept instead of scrubbed and other little details will slide so that I may manage to make it to the church.

Hey Guys, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and hug your loved ones. (And pray, just a little for me, that at least five people show up.)

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Party at my place

Somehow I've been roped into having a holiday get together this weekend. In my tiny, tiny apartment. With my unmatched dishes.

I'm open to new things and if you've followed any permutations of my blog you know that having an active, healthy and exciting social life is one of my goals/dreams. However. I don't have a Christmas tree, a coffee maker much less coffee, bowls to put chips in, napkins, enough seating for over ten people (yikes!), soda, party food or a toilet seat that isn't cracked. I also don't have the money to buy any of these things.

I'm going to have to sell some of my blood at lunch or something today.

I also don't know how to entertain these people. Back when I used to throw huge holiday parties it was much easier; in high school and my early college years I just invited people, provided food, and let the fun begin. Now I have no idea what to do. Are people going to wind up hating me? Will I be known as the worst hostess ever? Will people awkwardly stand around since they don't know each other and may not get along and leave an hour after they came? What will I feed them? How will I afford to feed them? Is it okay to forgo the whole peel and eat shrimp, wine, cheese and fruit thing and instead order a few pizzas and tell them to bring their own beer? Most of these people don't really know the other people and I can't think of one dynamic funny person in the group so I don't know how to entertain people or ensure that they have a good time. Suddenly I know why there are libraries of books written on parties.

So while I am in the midst of total melt down freak out I am going to try to go shopping today and figure out a menu, pick up a tree, scrub the grout in my bathroom, wash my carpets, wrap all my Christmas presents, find some cheap wine glasses and a new toilet seat and oh yeah PANIC.

I bet other people are not as retarded as I am.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

I'm having a very hard time staying motivated with diet and excersize now that my office holiday party has come and gone. It is the season of bulky sweaters and some part of my mind is whispering that it is okay to be built like a mashed potato mound during the winter months. What this evil little part of my brain doesn't seem to understand is that the summer months follow right after the winter months and the fat doesn't see sunlight and just run away; it holds on for dear life.

On an unrelated note do you think anyone in the Spears family has ever heard of contraception? No? Gosh, me neither. You can take the girls out of the trailor but you can't take the trailer out of the girls I guess. I'm just so pleased that those little whores are inspiring a whole generation to pop kids out, forgo underwear, and then no take responsibility for their progeny. Yay pop culture!

Someone hand me a damn twinkee.

Friday, December 14, 2007

My subconscience might be a career-sabatoging whore

If I certainly don't plan to have anybody over tonight why did I clean my apartment?

If I certainly don't intend to show off any part of me other than my face and wrists why did I shave everything this morning and then choose hot lingerie to wear under my clothes tonight?

If I don't intend to do anything stupid at my office holiday party tonight why did I just drink a glass of wine before I'm ready to leave?

Why is my favorite perfume on?

Why am I wearing the jeans that make my ass look incredible?

Why did I put on liquid eyeliner and lip gloss?

Why do I have to keep reminding myself that my boss is married?



All I came home with was a hangover. I guess my conscience beat out my subconscience. Take that sub! I win!

Now if only they would get together and help me remember the night...

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Maybe I'll buy one for myself

For the first time in seven years I don't have a significant someone to buy a sexy argyle sweater vest for.

No one.

I'm rather into sweater vests, especially of the argyle kind. Slap in some glasses and graying hair and WHOOOOOOOO boy I'm knock-kneed and salivating. While doing my holiday shopping yesterday I stumbled across mounds of luxurious sweater vests displayed in nearly every store and felt, just a little, rather lonely and sad. Then I remembered that it is a good thing that I don't have a significant other in my life to buy one of these for because in the past seven years all the loves I've bought a sweater vest for have fallen out of my life, and now, alone, for the first time in my entire adult life, I am much happier than I've ever been before.

Someday I might again have a man to buy an argyle sweater vest for. He might hopefully be charming and funny, kind and compassionate, and understand my sense of humor. If fate likes me he will have glasses, be over six foot, and maybe, just maybe, have some gray at his temples.

Of course, I still may have surreptitiously buried my face in a pile of argyle sweater vests but that is between me and the security cameras that patrol the store.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Diet Delirium

How many days do you think I would have to go without eating to drop twenty pounds?

I know, I know. It is bad for my metabolism. I might just gain it all back. I'll be weak and shaky and nutty and semi delirious. It is stupid to do such a thing. The best way to lose weight is to aim for a pound or two a week while incorporating a sensible eating plan and regular exercise. I KNOW ALREADY.

But seriously, how many days? I mean, Nicole Richie and that blonde from that Blue Crush movie totally lost oodles of weight by not eating for only a few months. They went right down to svelte and sexy. Well, they went right down to that before they went skeletal but I'm not looking for skeletal: I'm looking for slender. Attractive. Not carrying saddle bags o' nacho cheese around my hips. Then of course I'll have to get breast implants since I don't have much on top to begin with and I imagine I may lose a bit of it during the no-eating process. I suppose I could get my forehead botoxed at the same time and just a little bit of lip plumping for good measure. My lips are nice, sure, but we're talking preventative now.

So what are we looking at here, three, maybe four months? That doesn't sound that bad at all. I'll be ready for bikini shopping by April.


Sunday, December 9, 2007

I still can't find my ironing board

Where have I been for over two weeks? Where you ask? Trying to find the re-arranged contents of my apartment and try to fit my life into a cohesive mesh with my fab new surroundings. Two friends got together, stormed my house last weekend and this weekend, and transformed my boxes of school work dating to the eighties and my piles of unwearable size zero clothes into a real, fabulous, and totally adult dwelling. People: We painted stuff. They hung curtains. I have a wine rack. It is amazing in here.

Unfortunately for all its swank poshness I'm having a hard time adjusting to my "new" place. I feel like I'm in someone else's very nice home and can't mess it up. I don't know where to put my makeup on anymore, I'm tempted to eat meals out in the hall of my building and I'm reluctant to even decorate for the holiday season because I just don't want to sully the goodness up. That, and I can't find anything. One would think that in a 600 square foot space there wouldn't be too many places to look for, say, your iron and spray starch but you would be both wrong and surprised.

During phase one of the Apartment Redevelopment Project, as I have just now decided to call it, the cat 5 network cable for my internet connection was mysteriously ruined so I lost internet connectivity. Four days later when my cell phone charger made a reappearance I was able to get back in contact with people but it took still several days more until I was allowed to install another network cable. You see, I couldn't just reconnect my PC, I had to have approval on placement, lighting, aesthetics and possibly lunar cycles.

I cannot complain, however, as I am now living the life of a *real* adult with place mats and everything. I even had a small get together last night with real people who admired the theme and then noticed my ugly dishes. My dishes are of the variety that my parents got for free from the grocery store utilizing some kind of antiquated stamp system that one reads about in history books. Among other things including the dishes now I need a computer chair, several lamps, art for over my couch and wall spackle. I may look into saving up for such luxury items after I sway the decorating duo from painting my place. I think it is enough that my bed is jacked eight inches up higher than it used to be, causing my knees an angry and unwelcome adjustment period, but paint is where I draw the line. I like white walls. My lease is up in May.

I can only hope to keep it clean and attractive a bit longer before I break down and do laundry, or worse yet, make a concentrated effort to find the new living place for my socks, my knitting and my mouthwash. Until such a time I am gingerly sitting on the floor near my couch, but not on it, and marvelling at what it feels like to have one aspect of my life in place.

Now then, what have all of you been up to?

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Samanth Who is a very dissapointing and boring TV show

Therefore you need entertainment:

Come on get in the boat! Fish! Come on get in the boat! Fish! Fish!

To clarify: The above is The below is There are two different links in here, I just didn't write well. What else is new?

Now, go visit my imaginary internet boyfriend. I love him. Go back to the very beginning of the archives and read all the way through. It is both educational and hilarious. Now if only he would return my calls...

Fish! Fish!

Monday, November 26, 2007

Quiet Monday

I did not make it out the other night. Had it been 1) Three hours earlier 2) didn't require an entire outfit in white which I did not own 3) wasn't a logistical nightmare (cabs are not so safe for a gal traveling alone in my city) or any combination of the above I so would have gone. Naturally that was probably my last chance ever to go out to a swank nightclub party and now I'll just wither and die alone but you know, whatever.

My wrist and forearm condition has been not nearly the trouble it was at my old job so being the FOOL that I am I tried to knit. I now have a scraggly three inch start to a scarf and I can hardly brush my hair much less type. It is not so much the pain; more the numbness. How do I know if I'm hitting the right keys if I can't feel them? Gah. I have a doc appt on Wednesday and I'll probaly have to go back to wearing my braces full time again. That is my excuse, albeit a very true and good one, for slacking on the comments and the posting.

Drink something for me tonight, I have to cut waaaaayyyyy back on the alcohol. Apparently a drink or five every night for two months equals ten new pounds. Hot.

Oh Bacardi, how I miss thee and your companion cranberry juice. *SIGH*

Saturday, November 24, 2007

I'm making you choose for me, but think fast, because I only have four hours to decide

Okay, do I want to try to drum up an outfit in white (which is impossible since I only own white dress shirts so would have to wear pants of some color) and get all dolled up to go out at midnight to a huge nightclub in downtown which will be a major logistical hassle to hang out with a group of people, only one on which I know, in a club that plays music so loud my ears will bleed but at least I am being freaking social;

Or, do I stay home, sip a cranberry bacardi and catch up on TV online thus proving once and for all that I am a hermit and not cut out for the fast life?

Which is it people?

Damn decisions.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

gobble gobble

Happy Thanksgiving My United States Peeps!

If you don't live in the good ole US of A may I recommend that you use today as an excuse to gorge yourself on food and be grateful for all the good things in your life?

Because really, we should all be spending every day we have grateful and thankful for the little things and at least once a month we should eat like gluttonous fools. Those are my rules for life anyway.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007


So guess who is drunk? On a work night? If you said Eris you would be right.

Tra la la so drunk.

And I have to work tomorrow. Damn people, they are bad influences. I didn't drink sake out ot a STRAW is all I'm saying.

Andy: But sake is actually quite good via straw. I'm quite, uh, tipsy at the moment. I tried a cool Jackie Chan-style get up off the ground and nearly failed miserably. My mind is babbling incoherent thoughts that my mouth and fingers refuse to type out of good taste. But I'm having an incredible time, as per usual. What's more... I am truly a bad influence. I mean, who wants to work tomorrow anyway. She looks sick. *cough cough* She looks terribly sick.

Eris: Oh yes, so damn sick. How did somehone force me to drink two large sakes and two or maybe three (who can remember) vodka tonics at that bar and now we may delve into cranberry barcardis. Maybe I made myself. I'm sorry, Tuesday, what is that? Are we drunk? Noooooooooo.. Okay, yes. Hell yes. We may wind up conceiving an unknown love child tonight. Does Eris have to work tomotorrow? Oh yes, so very much yes. Fuck this is a bad idea. My freshman highschool yearbook already made its way out. Andy had his digital camera out so it his turn...

Andy: I promise not to complain when the morning sickness kicks in. And for the record - said apartment looks 10x more fantasic that I could have bloody dreamed of. And I, for one, never realized that the third riech meant Germany. Oh, sorry, there I am quoting "The Producers" whilst drunk and in the middle of blogging. I haven't fallen over yet. But I'm sure that Eris is sick and will be unable to attend work on the morrow. I don't work until next week, at which time my job will be wine so I have no problems with the current situation... did that make sense? I cant' tell right now. My IQ seems to drop every time I stand up and wobble. But, for the official record, Eris is very beautiful tonight.

Eris: Awwwwwww, thank you. Maya wants to have babies with Andy but I'm not telling, Nooooooooooo, not at all. Her text says he is "hawt" and he has already offered to withstand morning sickness for ms so he wins the best guy ever award. We are still deciding who gets the couch and who gets the bed. Have I mentioned that I WORK TOMORROW? And Andy just gave me my bacardi and cranberry drink? Why doesn't anyone else ever come visit me from the blog world, I mean, I am a total blast here people. The drunkeness, the work tomorrow, the pictures, the highschool memories (real or drunkenly made up) we so rock. YOU LOVE ME BITCHES. Yo SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO wish you were shere.

Andy: I feel like a child right now. Well, a child raised like Drew Barrymore. I'm fairly buzzed and well on my way to completely inebriated. I drove back from the sushi place (and subsequent bar visit). That was rough. I know I'm a "good" drunk driver but therein lies the problem. Granted I have't been buzzed in months... but still. Alas, here be a damsel in distress. Work distress. And I shall save her! Work, as we all know, is for fools. And Eris is no fool. Thus, as logical statements go, since work is, in fact, for fools, and Eris is no fool, it seems as though we've reached the conclusion that she shan't go to work tomorrow. But seriously, you should see her, she's gorgeous!

Eris: Um, I have to work. Money good. OMG if you guys saw the typing errors I've committed you would cry. This is totally the first drunken post I've ever completed with someone. Can't type: totally horrid right now. Feh. Where was I? Should Any take the bed or the couch? He is lifting my 3 pound weights right now and making fun of me. MFer. I'm a lightweight okay? And so so so so so so drunk. Holy hell am I drunk. How the hell am I supposed to make it to work tomorrow. Andy was going to get his yoga certification. Now he is tryng to do some kind of crow pose. I may have to call the paramedics soon. Did you know that he was a paramedic once? And a personal massuese? Yeah, he was. Among otyher things. He totally did stand up comedy one time which I am wayyyyyyyyyy toooooo wussy to do but he did. Totally. I wasn't quite there but I am now. And I need more water. Gah.

Andy: Crow pose: unsuccessful. Perhaps due to certain balance issues at present. Perhaps. Otherly... I am quite skilled in the powers of persuasion. She won't go tomorrow. She'd rather do something fun like hiking or... or... damn, too drunk to make a list. Damn. Alas, what? Argh. My legs are sitting on the couch while I am across the room typing. It's amazing that my lower body can be more than ten feet from me and still function. I just watched my legs, from across the room mind you, cross at the knee (the "dude" way). I'm amazing and quite talented while drunk. What was I saying? Oh yeah! She couldn't possibly work tomorrow. Think of what she'd miss! Join me and say: "Eris! Are you crazy?! Don't go to work when you could have fun instead!" Thanks. I'm glad EVERYONE supports me on this.

Eris: Yeah but I need to pay BILLS. BILLs damnit, cannot call in sick. Gah. We will watch movie now. Movie good. Andy will post this in his blog now. Good. Eris so. veryily. drunk,..\

Monday, November 19, 2007

Where is Mr. Clean when you need him?

So tonight I get to spend the evening attemptin/pretending to clean my apartment (it is a bit hopeless right now) because I might have a guest coming to see me tomorrow. Just a wee bit stressed. There is no way to get this place in any kind of shape before I have to wake up at 5 tomorrow and work until 6:30. Ah well. At least this person won't call me to go out and then wait four hours to get ready.

So no big post tonight, I have a mop to hunt down. I don't even have Bacardi and cranberry juice to ease the ills of snazzing this place up. Do you think if I left the lights low he wouldn't notice the piles and piles of dirty clothes and dishes? No? Damnit.

Saturday, November 17, 2007


Someone please explain the dynamics of going out to me. Not on a date, but just out for the night. I've been ready and dressed since 6:00, I even put damn false eyelashes on, and my friend won't get here anytime before 10:00. Is this normal? I get it being normal in a town that doesn't suck and has an actual nightlife but certainly not here. Now I'm wasting a perfectly good pair of eyelashes. DAMNIT. I am never getting dressed up again, every time I do it sucks. Now I probably get to spend another awkward evening trying to find seats in a bar only to come home and be sad because I look nice for naught.


Thursday, November 15, 2007

I'm dreaming of a Silent Christmas; Or, Sleighbells Ring one more time and I'ma gonna get all crazy up in here

Let's compromise. I understand that the economy relies heavily on sales during this time of year, particularly holiday sales. I know that the name "Black Friday" for the shopping day after Thanksgiving does not refer to the sheer insanity of the entire nation piling into department stores and stabbing each other over sweater sales but rather to when accounting was done in ink and having your ledger balance represented by black rather than red meant you were finally out of the negative on your books. I've processed the message that consumerism stops terrorism and that buying name brand goods is the most patriotic thing I can do.

But you have made me hate Christmas music. And I hate the fact that Christmas goods are coming out in early September now and that stores are playing Christmas songs before the left over Halloween candy has had time to be marked down.

I can't handle two straight months of holiday tunes in every store I frequent.

I just can't.

It didn't used to be this way, therefore, I propose a solution; one that will keep me from boycotting this and all holiday seasons in the future and one that won't hurt your sales: Hold out on the damn Holiday items until six weeks before the appropriate holiday and NO FUCKING CHRISTMAS SONGS UNTIL DECEMBER FIRST. Is that too much to ask? I think not. Less is more my friends. Create demand. If diamonds paved the streets and came baked in bread they wouldn't be so damn precious would they? Make people want to buy your goods. Make people storm the stores at the end of November to snap up the precious goods you were keeping locked up until six weeks due time. I bet your sales will increase. The law of scarce goods and demand! My high school econ teacher was a drunken hippy who played Pink Floyd in ever single class and I still grasp the basics!

In trying to cram holiday cheer down my throat every year you have managed to instead motivate me to not buy a Christmas tree ever in my adult life, stop buying wrapping paper and use paper grocery bags instead, not buy any holiday themed crap whatsoever and punch every person I see carrying a red seasonal starbucks cup. That's right bitches, you're driving away a perfectly happy consumer.

I'm a single professional with a huge list of guilt gifts to buy. I'm the perfect demographic: young, free, and supposedly drowning in disposable income. Frankly you're just being fuckwits with the bloody Christmas crap out way too early and crammed in my face for way too long. You're doing this to a person who used to throw a huge carolling party every year. You've grinched me out and I can't be the only one. In an effort to somehow trick us into buying more I do believe you are creating a huge subset of people who are going to tell your singing Santa stuffed toys, out in time for labor day, to go Ho Ho Fuck themselves.

I see that it is only a matter of time before all holidays are conglomerated into a three month long Easter/Hanukkah/Stuff your fat face/toy orgy as foretold in Futurama. Which, whatever. Pick a decade to do it and put it on the books. Then I know which months to spend tending to my rock collection in Siberia. However, until said time I am doing all my shopping all the Dollar Store, the only retail outlet IN THE WHOLE CITY that hasn't already started in on the Christmas music bullshit. Granted, I'm going to be eating expired canned peaches and knock off candy (Tootsie Smolls) for the next couple of months but it is worth it just to not give any of you my business. If you won't comply with the plan layed out above you can bet that by next year I'll be growing tubers and grain in boxes on my balcony just to avoid having to shop in your horrid establishments for the quarter of a year in which you insist in covering your checkout stands in tinsel.

I think you'd be wise to listen to me. My argument is very clear, I offer a great compromise, and you don't want me taking more people with me. I have a blog people, I am obviously very important and influential. I also have matches and gasoline.

Either way, it is your choice. We don't want things to get ugly do we?

Monday, November 12, 2007

In Memory of

I thought of you often. Just the other day a memory of one of the stories you told popped in my head on the way home from work. I always thought that someday I would look you up but I thought you would think it was weird if the 16 year old punk you worked with, now grown up, tracked you down. I really enjoyed working with you. We bonded due to the lack of customers leaving us with hours to talk and I have always remembered each of your stories. You taught me about fear and loneliness and about hope and exhaustion. You showed me vulnerability and the infinite sadness that a human soul can carry, yet you were never truly down.

Our other co-worker found me and told me that you kept the pictures from so long ago; of my last day of work there, all of us smiling. It breaks my heart that I didn't keep in touch, even if I was worried you would think I was odd. Once upon a time I even had the thought that someday I would come back and find you, if you weren't doing well, and help you in any way I could. I thought there was time. I was certain our paths would meet again someday. They won't, not on earth, and I am sorry.

I always wished the best for you.

I am sorry you are gone.

I am sorry that life never treated you better.

I am sorry I missed your memorial.

I am sorry you went the way you did.

I am sorry that I will never get to see you again.

I am sorry.

I should have stayed in touch.

Goodbye. You were loved.

Friday, November 9, 2007

I wonder if they have adult themes shops in Saudi Arabia and if so, why are they looking me up?

May I just say, the comments from the last post rocked? The references to the phone being a portal out of the Matrix and the fact that someone remembered one of the best TV shows ever (I love you Pete and Pete!) made my day.

I love you guys. If only I could have you all over for bacardi cranberries and we could pummel the horn honker in the wee hours of the morning together.

But back to my regularly scheduled post.

Yesterday I was running an errand and wound up in a quaint, beautiful neighborhood. The streets were lined with adorable houses built before architecture got ugly, trees in full fall lustre with leaves blowing in the wind, real small town America sidewalks and a calm purple sky falling into sunset.

It felt very much like New England, or as I imagine it to feel like as I've never been. I paused to take in the serene scene as this is not something I get to see in my city. As I rotated to take in the full expanse of the beauty I noticed the huge neon sign less than one block over illuminating the dusk with the words "ADULT SEX...", the rest being cut off by a house. I realized that one street over is the seedy district filled with porn houses and sex shops. While I stood watching the sign flash its message to the night a guy came wandering up the sidewalk cursing and mumbling to himself. Being the only other person on the street, and in light of the fact that he was very big and very tweaked out, I took this as my cue to get the hell out of there.

Ah city living, such a joy.

I post this, of course, in full knowledge that the hits I've been getting from Saudi Arabia for "Quick Fast Fuc*ing" and "Blowjo* whores" are now only going to increase but that is the risk one takes in having a blog. Although, with all the sites dedicated to such things how the hell is google routing these people to this blog? I think they need to re-evaluate their web site search optimization, or perhaps I need to swear less. Still. The first hits I ever get from the middle east and they aren't what one would hope for. Much like my city the web is a mish mash of society; all pretty blog on one corner and seedy sex shops on the next.


*maybe if I don't type out the whole thing the hits will stop.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

The Phantom Ringing Phone

I have not had a land line in years. The room mate who left me high and dry and owing me a couple grand stopped paying our phone bill and left me with the debt, among others. I paid all that off and have done a good job rebuilding my credit but never needed a land line again until I needed the internet. I am now the proud owner of a phone number I can't remember for a phone line that will never be used for anything more than data. As an afterthought I plugged in a cheap analog phone when the line was installed and figured I would never think about it again.


Until the phone started ringing.

At first it was just around dinner time. Then it was daytime on the weekends. Then nights. Then 3am. I've since unplugged the bastard a few times. I've never answered it. No one knows the number and I've never given it out so I don't know who would be calling other than telemarketers or people looking for the person that the phone used to belong to. I don't need to hear from angry bill collectors or drunken exes, particularly when they aren't mine.

One would think that if I just left the phone unplugged the problem would go away. Naturally this is the easy solution so I leave the phone plugged in. I've never even considered answering it, I usually just watch it until it stops ringing; transfixed by the noise and distracted like a moth hypnotically drawn to light.

Telemarketers don't call at 3am so I'm pretty sure that something else is going on. What, I don't know. And I'll never know. Because I'm never answering it. It's much more fun to imagine scenarios. Maybe it is a portal to the dead. Maybe it is a confused yet bored millionaire who will give money to whom ever answers. Maybe it is punks pressing the buzzer outside the lobby because the land line is connected to the little phone outside that buzzes people in.

The phone was ringing when I walked in the door tonight. Per usual I stared at it until it stopped ringing and then went about my business.

I better register the number for the national do not call registry. That might help a bit.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

If you do that again I'm disconnecting the horn from the steering wheel and then your arm from your torso

I've pretty much loved my apartment the three plus years I've lived here.

For the first year I really didn't unpack and things were a hellish mess, I didn't even pull the furniture out of my hall for months; I just squeezed around it. I'm still not unpacked, or decorated, or organized, but each month it gets better. I've always felt mostly safe, which is hard for a single gal living alone, and I've not really had too much neighbor trouble.

The rent is okay. I have my own washer and dryer in my unit! The neighbor upstairs vacuumed every morning between 3 and 4 AM but I learned to find it comforting.

I still daydream about getting this place in order and having real people over and having a real dinner party, or cocktail party, or really, anything with real people. The only guest who I've ever really had over didn't scream in horror so I think I'm getting there.

I love the underground indoor parking, even if the garage looks like the setting in a horror movie before someone gets killed. I don't mind the spiders, the helicopter sweeps of my neighborhood, the pot smoking neighbors who sometimes make my house smell like a hippy camp or the view into a chiropractic office.

Suddenly, however, the neighborhood is getting even worse than it used to be. There is much more graffiti than usual, an upswing in stabbings, and now, every morning at 5AM, some JACKASS parks out on the street below my window and HONKS HIS DAMN HORN for what feels like hours but is really only TWENTY FREAKING MINUTES. Every. Morning. The hell?

This is sorta the last straw. I don't have a backyard, I've never been able to use our pool (no swimming alone!), my neighbors put things under my car to catch the oil when the cardboard was doing a damn fine job thankyouverymuch and occasionally people try to get into my apartment because they are too drunk/creepy to find their own. I mean, yeah, all the floors and doors do look the same but COME ON buddy, once is enough! But the early morning honking? Makes Eris Angry! Smash! Kill! Die! How rude do you have to be to honk the hell out of your horn before the sun is up?

Are you picking up a coworker?

Are you celebrating something?

Are you a flaming asshole who needs to be pummeled into a bloody pulp?

I run with the latter.

My lease is up in May. I don't know what will happen to me then. I don't know if I'll have enough money to leave this town and move on with my life. I don't know if I will even be given the option to re-up my lease. I don't know what I want to do, where I want to go or how I will do it. But I do know that the early morning honking has got to stop. I can handle the sirens all night long and the shootings across the street but the damned honking is where I draw the line.

Short of calling the police I don't know what to do. "Hello? 9-11? Yes, there is someone honking their horn. They do this every day. What's that? You're arresting me for calling in a non-emergency?" Great.

The title pretty much says it all.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Why must the sun shine on the other side of the globe now?

In the Northern Hemisphere it is dark. And by dark I mean DARK. At 4:30 pm. I don't handle this time of year so well in that, when it gets dark, my body says that it is late and I should be asleep. My body is then angry and confused when I explain no, there is this rotational thing with the earth and we need to go to the gym now. My body doesn't listen to me, which is disconcerting, because it is always demanding things like nacho cheese and pizza. Isn't my body supposed to be in tune with the earth? What with it being a biological substance and all? No? Well fine then.

It is 5:30 pm and I'm sitting in my pajamas drinking a glass of milk.

It is going to be a long winter.

I heard some lovely news about my old job, lovely in that the person who has my position now apparently swears really loud and punches things all day long and is *this* close to losing it. This is not good for the person who took my job but damn good for me as it is validation that I am not crazy, not hypersensitive and not deluded about how bad things really were. Looking back on some of my archives it feels like a horrid dream and I'm amazed I could work 7 days a week, 12 hours a day, be on call the other 12 hours a day and manage to make it as long as I did. My new job is so sweet that I'm counting my blessings hourly. I also noticed in my archives that my posts have been sorely lacking in frequency, or regularity. So. I'm going to do better on that. I'm not going all NaNoRamOBlamO on you or anything but I will be around more often.

Did you know I decided to start dating in sincerity again in JUNE? Yikes. It took me HOW LONG to get a date? Frightening. Here's to hoping that there is more where that one came from, I need to continue to meet new people, even if they are a bit touched in the head. Again, I can't judge a person's belief system but I can say that that person and I are not meant to be. Me? I don't believe that my car has feelings, but perhaps that is just because I fear a slippery slope. One day I'm treating my car to name bran gasoline and a wash and the next day I'm apologizing to my blender for not paying enough attention to it. Trouble people, trouble.

Monday, November 5, 2007

Post date update

Well then.

Date over.

We have nothing in common. He thinks cars are living beings. He almost cried, twice. He spent the whole time talking about himself, how his brother was the loved wonder child, how he has so much compassion for other people that he often cries, how he volunteers yet doesn't want people to know because that makes him a "boy scout", then he went on about his years as a boy scout. It was by no means bad, he was perfectly nice, but lordy. Not for me. I sortof have a thing with grown adults who can only eat certain foods and get sick at the sight of raw tomatoes. He was sweet and he paid but we are not compatible. Not that it matters: I'm back in the dating game! And I'd like to leave it again now, thanks.

I looked damn good though. I still look damn good. I don't want to take my makeup off or put my hair up, I want to feel nice looking just a bit longer.

He's so nice, I hope he finds someone soon. And maybe learns to not cry on first dates.

Oh, and I offered to pay but he insisted. He should have let me at least chip in.


Why am I so freaked out about a date? A simple little blind date? Okay, so this is my first blind date ever but STILL.

*little voice* I really hope he looks like Jim from the office.

or looks normal really.


Also, your comments from the last post told me that I should: let him pay (and order dessert damnit because I am worth it); offer to pay at the beginning; or, just pay because I am an independant woman. Thanks guys. I'm not confused at all.




We are meeting at the same place that I had my first date with my last serious boyfriend. Man, no bad vibes there.




Okay, must calm down and make self beautiful now.

Wish me luck.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Blindly going where pretty much everyone has gone before

Think skinny thoughts for me people! I have a date! Tomorrow!

I'll let you digest that for a bit.

You back?

Okay. It's a blind date, but I have talked with him on the phone and already plan on belly crawling out of the restaurant if he turns out super weird. Thing is, and I've realized this for awhile, I really really like be single. I like having my own space.

I'm not looking for Mister Right, or Mister Right Now. I'm just getting out there and being social.

That is a good thing.

Now the real question: Do I let the guy pay for the first date? What is the correct etiquette?

Monday, October 29, 2007

Art School or Jail, your choice

This weekend I noticed graffiti all over the outside of my apartment complex, the fence nearby, various cars parked on the street and pretty much any inanimate object that was unfortunate enough to be standing still. I'm convinced that had there been a napping cat or other living creature in a momentarily stationary stance they too are now covered in gang tags. I was annoyed but this happens sometimes. At least the graffiti wasn't accompanied by the normal stripped cars and piles of shattered glass.

I live in the kind of apartment building that you have to be 'buzzed' into. I like to exist in a pretend state where I imagine that none of the bad guys ever get into my complex. I still case my apartment every night, pepper spray in hand, but I don't think I'd sleep if I knew how easy it is to get into the building overall. This morning at 6 am I got into my elevator, humming a jaunty morning tune, healthy lunch in hand and smart outfit on, only to be greeted by some lovely tag art ALL OVER THE ELEVATOR.

Some jackass had drawn on the whole inside of MY ELEVATOR.


Isn't it enough that the whole neighborhood is covered in spray paint? Did someone really have to get into my building and tag the inside? Or better yet, does it really help that some tagging jackass lives in my building? Now I have an overwhelming urge to buy quadruple padlocks for my door and start carrying a gat, not just pepper spray.

That, or spray paint. Because I'd rather join them than be beat by them.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007


Anyone out there know anything about reformatting a Dell Dimension 2400?


I can't find the right driver for the display. The fonts are blurry and weird looking. I also can't find the driver for the speakers in the monitor. That is not as bad as the display issue. I've tried Dell support and every google search on EARTH and after five hours I'm ready to cry/smash computer to bits.



Andy: Macs are pretty and all (look at the colors!) but I can't afford one and also no business on earth uses them. Which sucks. What also sucks? Spending five days formatting a computer that doesn't belong to you. Gah.

Sally: Thank you for the offer. I actually learned quite a bit reformatting the dell so now I think I'll be able to better handle my laptop. Read: Moving to cave in Siberia where computers don't exist.

Cholly: I actually reformatted the whole hard drive. And as it turns out I just need to have one freaking grain of confidence in myself because I did the whole thing right, I was just working with a non-native monitor and had to change the resolution. Sometimes I hate that I don't trust myself.

Hollowsquirrel: I laughed so hard I inhaled Bacardi and cranberry into my brain at your comment.

CEO: {{{love}}}}

So@24: Try some Bacardi and Cranberry. It totally helps.

Thank you for the input guys. I was without my own (now beloved) laptop for several days while I reformatted a PC for my family. As it turns out I am a computer GENIUS but have no confidence what so freaking ever and couldn't trust that I did it right. I would up showing it to the tech guys at work and both garnered respect and also may have shown some major vulnerability because after they looked at it they were like "what were you worried about?" and I was like "I have no faith in my abilities" and they were like "but you are so brilliant when it comes to Simpsons quotes" and then we all laughed and laughed.

Can I hide now?

Saturday, October 20, 2007


My mom, a lovely and intelligent woman who never leaves the house, is convinced that there is a family curse on her side. If you examined her family from the outside looking in you would see that as highly possible. What I see is a long line of depressives, schizophrenics and alcoholics. Curse? Perhaps. However, such behavior and traits do not bring on happy things, ergo, I can see why they are convinced that they are "cursed". Several hundred years ago I imagine our clansman sitting around a cave drinking fermented grass juice and feeling woe about the overall state of things while the other clansman were out with Braveheart actually doing something about their situation.

It bothers me that my mom thinks she is cursed. Life is frustrating and trial-some and sometimes downright horrible, but just because you seem to be load balanced with an unfair share doesn't imply that one of your ancestors kicked a witch while she was down. I think it implies that life is a bitch; so deal with it. Well, I would, if sometimes I didn't feel cursed too.

I can write off the majority of bad things that happen in my mom's life as being totally random, and therefore not worth consideration, or totally relational cause and effect. Live a life focused on the negative and that is all you will see. I'm not going to go all "Secret" on you but even if there is no relation between positive thinking and good things, I would rather live a life with happy thoughts and crappy stuff than negative thoughts and crappy stuff. You can't change the crappy stuff but you can change the way you feel when you wake up in the morning. This is WAY easier said than done because somewhere in my nature, perhaps the genes from my mother's side, I have been programmed to be infinitely and interminably negative. It is my number one fault, a huge cripple, and severely depressing.

Perhaps that is the answer. My mother's family is not truly cursed: they are negative. I don't need a degree in, well, anything to tell you that negative people are unhappy people, unhappy people feel the brunt of their 'bad' decisions worse, and unhappy people lead unsatisfied lives. This isn't rocket science. It is common sense.

When my mother says something with an air of resignation in regard to "the curse" I react with anger and misery. "It isn't the curse damnit!" I want to scream, it is either random or due to negativity, and the only way to cope with it is to keep going forward. Don't dwell, don't let negative thoughts get the better of you, always look on the bright side of life! I cannot do this, however, because that may very well be the pot calling the kettle black. (Why do those two have an ages long rivalry?)

I am not responsible, no matter how hard I try, for anyone's happiness but my own. None of us are. That is likely the second greatest lesson I must learn. I cannot control anyone, nor the outcome of any situation. The only person I can lift the curse off of is myself. If only I knew a good witch doctor, I would be set.

I'm a full fledged adult now, damn wrinkles an all, and though I love my mother dearly along with my whole family, I need to distance myself and start living like an adult. Sure, I've been paying bills and being responsible for years, but there is much more to being an adult that resigning oneself to a 9-5 prison and settling in a city you don't particularly care for. There is the matter of actually growing up. And not being cursed.

Is there anyone in your life that carries a curse? Do you? How do you view it or deal with it? Should I start carrying crystals and sage around?

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Bacardi, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

How could one little needle hurt so much? Yikes! The flu shot I was administered yesterday has left me in a state of agony. I can't rotate my neck, my jaw aches and my arm is downright throbbing. It is ONE LITTLE NEEDLE. I could stab myself anywhere on my body with an ice pick and I doubt I could even come close to this pain. And never mind google, not only am I evil because I buy into the government inoculation conspiracy but I'm also THIS CLOSE to death; as apparently millions of people per year die within moments of receiving a flu shot.

The only thing that can kill this kind of pain?

Rum and Cranberry juice.

That's right.

In other news the tally for Halloween Costume suggestions is as follows:

Bartender (how does one dress for this?)
Secretary of State
Giant Cranberry
Alice in Wonderland (not slutty!)
Olympic Swimmer
Payroll Princess
Eris, Goddess of Discord (which, come now, I am this everyday)

The CEO has been all over this costume thing. You should go say hi, and tell him he should go as an Olympic swimmer for Halloween, as I imagine a person who suggests that is very toned, very tan, and does not live in a state where is snows.

Also, Anonymous has stopped by a bit, and I quite like them. Too bad they are anonymous. I think it may be a girl since last year they were the Payroll Princess, but you know what? That is a sexist assumption. So hello Anonymous! Have fun stealing candy from children this year!

You guys need to think more evil, Secretary of State not withstanding. Something witchy/warlocky/unholy undead-y.

Female grim reaper maybe? How would one dress for that?

Wednesday, October 17, 2007


The unscheduled lapse in my internet connection has been indefinitely postponed so I'm back! Again! Even though I was hardly gone! Yay!

Like all two of you care.

I must relate the following: Two weeks ago I decided to pick myself up some libations so I settled on Vodka and Tonic, my preferred drink choice, and wandered into a grocery store. Once there I had a powerful craving for vitamin C so I decided to go with Vodka and Cranberry Juice instead. I grabbed the first clear bottle of alcohol that I recognized, some Ocean Spray, and was on my way. At home I found the drink to be surprisingly tasty, I thought "Hey, Vodka Cranberries are surprisingly good" and drank up the whole bottle in this fashion over the course of about ten days. This Monday roles around and I decide again, that since the drinks were so good, I'd grab myself some more vodka. I went to the same place, grabbed the same bottle of clear alcohol, and was on my way. It wasn't until last night that I bothered to notice the bottle: Bacardi. Not only am I a drunk but I'm also a stupid drunk, I've been drinking rum this whole time.

Can I just say, however, that clear bacardi and cranberry juice is quite tasty? You should try it sometime. I know I'm a convert.

Anyone figure out what I should be for Halloween yet?

Monday, October 15, 2007

Due to unforseen circumstances I will again be without computer access for upwards of a week.

In my absence think happy thoughts and hug your loved ones.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Right or Left?

I cannot get the image to turn counter clockwise. No matter what I do.

Thank you Meg, for making my left brain seem pathetic and my right brain super huge.

Not Easy Like Sunday Morning

So, last night was FUN. And by fun I mean, of course, an extravaganza of crap.

Are your loved ones crazy? Hell bent on hurting each other and ruining their lives? Prone to calling you hysterical at 1 in the morning from a city two hours away and demanding that you come fix their (very real) problems? Have you even spent the wee hours of the morning alone contemplating calling the cops and or perhaps changing your phone number? Are your loved ones trying to kill you via means of slowly driving you mad? No? Then we have nothing to talk about. Moving on.

Due to the response I've received of late regarding my last few posts I feel I need to clarify some things: I was never a meth addict myself. In fact, I have never done an illegal drug in my life, including pot. Whereas the support I received for overcoming my addiction was very sweet and heart felt I feel I need to clarify. When I pointed out the parallels of my life with the girl I met up with for coffee I was referring to things like similar family backgrounds, having had the same surgery several times each and overall an aura of failure and doom that follows me, us, around like a sad little rain cloud.

To my recollection, according to a Rainbow Bright album I had once, if I sing "Paint a rainbow, inside of you, paint a rainbow, let the sun shine through! When it's cold and grey push the clouds away, paint a rainbow in your heart" then the little sad cloud should go away. I must not be doing it right. In between the friends that have passed and the friends who have become deathly ill over the last few years on top of my family self combusting in a brilliant and heart-breaking manner, my medical problems, subsequent debt and depression, I feel that Rainbow Bright is not entirely strong enough. I don't need to paint a rainbow. I need to fucking harness a rainbow and force it into a jar that I wear around my neck. I'll get right on that.

I need to take a shower now and then perhaps drag my comforter with my into my closet and hide for a bit. In theory hiding in my closet does sound nice, but in practice it isn't so much fun. I'll probably just take a nap seeing as how I technically got three hours sleep last night and have been up since the wee hours.

So, to be totally superficial and distract you from above: What on earth should I be for Halloween? I'm all tapped out on ideas and I need you to do my thinking. And no, I do not want to be Rainbow Bright.
Okay people! It is 2:30 AM. Why aren't you online to chat? I figured at least someone in the UK might be around. Sheesh.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Still No Title

I've been able to process a bit more since last night and I've come up with some conclusions:

The girl I met is likely a meth addict

There but for the grace of God go I


No Matter What, If You Have All Your Teeth You Will Always Be Okay

Today is her birthday and last night I told her I would meet up for a drink or something small if she wanted to. I did try to make it clear that I go to be very early on weeknights because I work so early the next day but I don't know if she would have picked up on it since, in between her non stop talking, twitching and jittering I am not sure that she picked up on much. It is about six my time and I am sorta hoping she doesn't call, only because I have a distinct feeling that she would show up high or wind up leaving our meeting to get high with her abusive ex husband who is not really her ex husband because although he is a meth addict and wanted on several warrants for his arrest she can't bear to serve him with divorce papers yet even though she has already had relationships since their "breakup." Yikes.

I am not about to leave anyone alone on their birthday, especially when they seemed so excited to be offered with a chance to do something, but I also think that this may turn out yucky no matter what. If she does call I will make an effort to go, provided it isn't eleven at night. If she doesn't call then I will hope that she is off surrounded by caring people who value and love her and aren't going to propagate a bad situation. As is stands I am going to change into okay clothes and meet up with another long standing engagement I have on Wednesday nights and after 8:30 I'm thinking the phone should go off, because that is just too late for me. If she hasn't called by now (I left her a message about two hours ago) then she probably won't call, right?

The thing is, I worked really insanely hard to get my crap together. The majority of what happened I had no control over, and though it has been hard as hell I've managed to do okay. But I wanted out. I wanted to be okay. I don't think she does. She talked about how she hadn't seen the abusive "ex" for months then let it slip that she'd just been there last week. I understand abusive relationships very well and no external influence will get you out until you want to be out. She doesn't want to be out yet. She is a nice girl but she just isn't there yet. Explaining what I had to do and how I got out may not make much a difference, but if she calls, I'll meet her for a drink. Of course, a drink may not be the best idea...

I hope she winds up okay. I hope I wind up okay. I hope we all wind up okay. I'll keep you posted.


It is now nine my time and I never heard from her. If she really wanted to meet up she had my number. Let us hope that there isn't a strange backlash at work (she is the daughter of a supervisor, remember?).

I'm going to bed.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

No title

I met for coffee. It was eye opening. I'm still not processing it.

How is it that two people could have such similar experiences and wind up so different?

All I ever, ever do is beat myself up. I'm a failure. I'm overweight. I'm a social retard. I'm unlucky. My life is pathetic.

It isn't. I'm not. I'm stupid for getting caught up in those thoughts, ever. I'm blessed. I'm lucky. And even though there are people I know who are living in New York city and flying to Paris every other weekend, living a movie perfect life, MY life is pretty damn good.

I'm not discounting the hell I've been through, or am going through, or how much I struggle (perceived or real) but the fact is I fared pretty damn well.

I've overcome major medical issues.

I've dug myself out of a debt hole so big that I didn't think there was an end, and now, I can see one faintly in the distance.

I have an apartment.

I have a family (as hard as that is right now).

I've managed to scrape together a few friends.

I have a job. I am damn lucky to have a job.

I measure my worth based on the people who have more than succeeded, and I also have this secret fear that if I allow myself to be happy with what I've got somehow I've failed or God will take it away from me. If I'm always miserable God can't punish me anymore, right? Things can't get any worse? Right?

The girl I met for coffee has had a life eerily similar to me. Same medical problems. Same debt problems. Same crippling set backs that seem cruelly unfair and insurmountable, yet, I sit in a damn nice apartment surrounded by things like furniture and books and clothes and internet and she didn't quite fair the same. Our lives do drastically diverge in several huge areas but short of that I could be in a very, very different place. It is odd, and I haven't really processed it yet. She is in the same place I was a few years ago; holding on to a really bad relationship because it was literally all I had, unable to get a good job, so jacked in the credit department that I couldn't even get power in my own name (thanks to my ex roommate who still owes my 2,500 bucks) and yet today, years later, I'm doing fairly okay. What was the difference? What makes me survive and even, daresay, prosper? I still have no money, I still struggle daily with my demons, but I look around and I just know, I'll be okay. Relatively speaking.

Even though she and I have had very similar life experiences we are totally, absolutely different people. We have everything in common and yet nothing in common.

She's a nice girl who is desperately lonely, very lost, and in a bad place. I suspect that she is doing drugs. She only works part time and dissapears for days. I didn't know what to say when she said that tomorrow is her birthday and she has no one to spend it with, would I please do something with her? Was I not in exactly the same place just weeks ago? Except, still, it wasn't quite the same.

It is a bad situation and I can't get involved, I don't even think I would feel comfortable being light acquaintances, every red flag I have is going off, yet I'm stuck. I can't just not talk to her. I also can't just turn someone down on their birthday when they have no one to hang out with, even if I feel like she is going to wind up with her ex doing drugs later that night.

My whole perspective has changed, conversely, however the big issue is that I'm very conflicted, what should I do?

Monday, October 8, 2007

Right now I feel like typing "Guava"


That last post, wow, you loved that one, didn't you. The whopping zero comments in garnered is astounding. Tap Tap, is this thing on? Yikes people. I hope you're all okay. Not that I'm writing anything for the sole purpose of comments, but still. It would be nice to know that someone was out there. Hell, it would be nice if someone were online to CHAT ever. I thought that getting the internet at home would connect me more with the world. It has, in fact, had quite the opposite affect.

Ah well.

Tomorrow I am supposed to meet up with the daughter of one of my bosses for coffee. It started out innocent enough; she is the same age as me and new to town. She is supposedly looking to meet people. Or so it goes. Until I find out more of the story. Even though we are the same age she has, er, issues. She disappears for days at a time with her parent's car and money and only shows up when she needs something. It got even better when I received a surly phone call from her at work. She sounded like one of the fifteen year old girls I worked with at the psychiatric hospital; angry, lost, and mean. She also sounded like the last thing on earth she wanted was to meet up for coffee with me. It doesn't have to be this hard, you're an adult sweetie, you don't have to meet up with me if you don't want to. I know I don't want to. Better yet I find out that the night before her parents lectured her that it was time to start hanging out with better people and they basically made her call me. Let me say, the hell?

IT IS COFFEE PEOPLE, why does it always turn out to be some weird mess? Now I'm hoping that she blows me off because I don't know what I would talk about with this girl and HELLO AWKWARD, she is the daughter of my BOSS. If I'm not a good influence on her is it going to affect her father's opinion of me? I know it is my fault since I walked right into it, but really? It was just supposed to be coffee. With a new girl in town the same age as me. Now I'm fearing that she might shive me if she does show up (believe me, I heard it in her voice, I've worked with people like this before).

What am I supposed to do? What would you do? I've googled "coffee with boss' delinquent full grown daughter" but I'm coming up with nothing. I like my boss, I just don't think that the daughter and I are going to get along. If she shows up. And the last thing I need is her hating me because she believes that I am in cahoots with her dad.

Sunday, October 7, 2007

2007 is shaping up to be a drought year

Trying to find a date is about as fun and performing my own dental work. It hurts like hell, I have no idea what I'm doing, and the results are going to be horrible, painful, and last a lifetime.

It doesn't help that I'm surrounded by people who think that I must have no trouble in this department. Friends, family, co-workers and always expressing interest in my love life and making cute little comments regarding the fact that I must have no trouble in this area. This bothers me deeply because, um, what are they seeing that I'm not? Am I blind to the bevy of non serial killer men just swooning to spend time with me? Am I missing subtle hints dropped by nonexistent men that I've never seen begging to feed me lobster and tell me I look pretty? WHAT AM I MISSING?

The folks who have twenty or thirty years on me are especially bothersome in such that they are convinced that I spend my weekends stringing along dozens of love struck men who live for my every word. Never mind that these people have all been divorced AT LEAST once, if not FIVE TIMES (I am not kidding, seriously) so I am in awe of their misplaced optimism. I can't find a freaking girl to meet for coffee much less a guy to meet up for a movie.

I'm cute, sure, but I'm not turning heads. If I am it is only the thrice divorced men who were born before my mom, and even then I'm a sucker for a guy in a sweater vest with grey hair so I wouldn't turn them down. It doesn't make a difference, though, because I'm not getting any bites. I would step up my lure but I'm tired of the idea that, on top of having a career, degree, spotless home, booming social life, interesting hobbies and a great car I have to be super duper hottie with boobs up to here, makeup that never comes off and an ass to bounce quarters off of. I recently read a quote somewhere to this effect; that in the seventies you had to be cute, in this decade you have to be cute, ready for sex any time, never have a period, love giving head and be a corporate dynamo. To this I say fuck you. I also say, lose the beer gut and clean out your damn car fatty. I'm cute as hell. We're all fucking cute as hell and you are a waste of oxygen.

Even the people who know me best somehow believe that I'm out trolling for hotties wearing a "heartbreaker" T-shirt all night long. What is this? Are people trying to live vicariously through me? Or anyone under forty? Do they not understand that the highlight of my weekend is getting laundry done and that my life is more pathetic and dry than stale wheat toast?

And if they do insist that I'm such a dating fiend why the hell aren't they offering to set me up with anyone? The hell?

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Hell Fucking Yes

Here Dove, just take all my money.
You earned it.
Thank you.
Hey internet, how are you?

No, really.

How are you?

I'm okay.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007


If the good lord had intended for me to be a programmer I sincerely believe he would have given me the brains for it. So why, then, is heavy technical stuff the only thing that seems to be offered to me?

The things I'm good at, or at least inclined for, are an endless uphill struggle from hell. Yet, the things I abhor, and am no good at, are the things that seem to fall into place. At the new job they want to move me into heavy, heavy tech stuff and are opening all kinds of doors for me. SQL? Here Eris! We'll train you, certify you and let you do whatever you want! Please! We think you are brilliant! Um? YIKES.

People. I can program ATM code like it is going out of style but that was based on necessity. Remember how long it took me to figure out basic html in the old (beloved) blogger? How long it took me to build a link list in my sidebar? Now imagine me building code for a STATE WIDE system that thousands of users will depend on. Crap people Crap.

Life is weird. You set out to do one thing and it pushes you toward another. I'm an English and Spanish major working on networking.

I'll never figure this out.

Monday, October 1, 2007


To the sullen bitch who took my rent check today, didn't say hi, didn't even look up when I walked in the office and then grunted at the rent check box: The hell? When I asked if you were at least going to date stamp it or something I didn't mean to interrupt your very important brooding, I am SO SORRY that you have a cush office job while other people are starving on the streets. I am also SO SORRY that I expected YOU, the front person for my rental company, to be some semblance of friendly, if not at the very least semi polite. I swear to the heavens that if my rent check turns up missing and they try to charge me a late fee I am so getting up in your face. I've seen a few commercials for Jerry Springer, don't cross me hood rat.

To the tattooed jackass with the Napoleon complex who bagged 28 pounds of groceries into ONE FREAKING BAG (hell yes I weighed it when I got home): the hell? Um, sorry I'm a consumerist bitch that won't buy your "reusable" grocery bags and demands paper, because, guess what? I reuse the paper bags until they literally decompose all on their own. My grand kids are going to get some of my paper grocery bags as part of their legacy. Don't give me bitch-ass attitude, particularly when you are SHORTER than me, when I ask for paper freaking bags. Also don't put all of my purchases in one bag, starting with the RICE CAKES on the bottom. This isn't a competition, I know I am likely more eco friendly than you you fucking poser, so give me more than one bag for my groceries. I will so call your manager and complain because I? I can be that way. Customer service is an art Sir, and you are no artist, no matter what you think your tattoos tell the world about you.

And finally, to Britney. Baby? We gotta talk. You were blessed with two beautiful children. I know that your life has been turmoil and a mess and I also know that society more than helped contribute to it, but I pray that you, and someone else close to me much like you, find strength and grow the hell up. I would be in awe if I somehow were blessed with children, much less given all the money in the world, and as much as I just want to beat the ever living shit out of you until you "get it" at this time you are just in my prayers. They took your poor kids away for a reason sweetie, don't make it worse. You are in my prayers in a way few have ever been before. Please don't go on a drug binge and please don't try to hurt yourself. We all fuck up, that is probably the meaning of life, but that means that we have to grow. Please be safe. Please. Because if you can then someone else I know might get better too.

Also, I would be the number one hater in your anti fan club but that performance you gave? The dead, soulless, high one at the VMA's? You were a horrific train wreck but you weren't fat. I'll give you that.

Peace out.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Who do you think is more reputible: Hoppy Harry's Used Car Extravaganza or the dealership where the guy dresses up as a giant crawfish?

I have to buy a new car. Well, a car that is new to me. My highest limit is $10,000.00 which will buy me approximately three specialty coffee drinks from Starbucks or a car with no wheels and three hundred thousand miles on it. My current car only has two hundred eighty thousand miles on it so you can imagine I am a bit stressed.

I've known that this was coming for awhile but that doesn't make it any more fun. Every time I attempt to look at cars online or even think about wandering over to a used car lot I wind up taking to bed, mildly ill, and having to sleep for a few hours depending on how long I actually spent contemplating the "new" car. As you can imagine this is becoming a huge handicap as I am sleeping away my weekends in three hour chunks and nodding off as I drive by dealerships on my way home.

There have been many things that I didn't want to do in my lifetime which I still did, but very few things I simply couldn't do, like cleaning up the bits of my dead baby hamsters after the mom decided that they made good snacks. You can equate my desire to locate, inspect, purchase and drive a new car with my desire to pick up the gruesome remains of a hamster murder scene when I was just a little kid. I simply can't do it. My mom had to be the CSI team that took care of that horror. I think my energy may be better spent trying to find someone else do this task for me as well. Unfortunately my mom knows less about cars than a thawed out cave man so I can't turn to her again in my time of weakness.

What I need is someone to locate said car, barter down said deal, find said financing and give me said keys. In turn I will pay for the car, drive the car, and be able to resume regular function of my day to day life. It doesn't need to be a good looking car, just a car that will be very reliable and run well.

I understand that in my price range I am only going to get an ugly car that will last me a few years until someday when I optimistically believe that I will be able to upgrade to something that has all matching doors. The car also has to be able to handle harsh weather; it has to be able to clear two feet of snow driving up over a mountain pass that gains 2500 vertical feet in a raging blizzard. Don't laugh, my 4runner has never had any trouble doing this. My cursed 4runner has has trouble with every other freaking task EVER except for this.

Is it okay if the car doesn't have air conditioning because though it would be nice in the over hundred degree (over 38C according to Google) weather I regularly experience when it isn't snowing, I haven't ever had a vehicle with air conditioning since moving here and therefore wouldn't even know what I was missing. The new car must also not get worse mileage than 21-26 mpg (I am not googling kilometer conversion, I've made you soft with the Celsius conversion already) as that is what I get now and cannot budget for less. I will be cutting holes in the floor of the driver's side and manually running the car around if I have to settle for less.

I am cognizant of the potential for how humiliatingly ugly that this car must be but that doesn't mean that my ego isn't aching a bit at the prospect. My current vehicle is mechanically shot but miraculously still looks pretty good from the outside. In the seven years that I have called it my own, after buying it outright from cash I had painstakingly saved from every job I'd ever had, I've replaced: three head gaskets, two engines, the entire cooling system twice, three clutches, every ball bearing several times over, all the belts several times over, the breaks once, the heater once and a litany of other parts. I suspect the only original bit is the driver's seat.

That damn cursed vehicle has cost me easily three times the original sticker price and buried me deep in debt. Yet it still looks pretty from the outside. Imagine this vehicle in white. It even manages to look as though I could shave a few years off of it; people regularly guess it to be a '98 or '99 when it is a '91. I can only hope that my future vehicle won't have spray painted curse words on it, be missing both fenders, the muffler, and have four mismatched wheels.

In my failing and pathetic pursuit to find friends and a date I fear that bumping up in my sweet sweet POS ride isn't going to help my case right from the get go. I'll be working even harder to overcome the plumes of smoke that follow me and the fact that I have to start the thing with a screwdriver by jimmying the distributor cap. You would think I might be better off with my current ride but you would be wrong. I have to get a "new" car very soon and I have no idea how I'm going to do it. I'm just not psychically or mentally capable. I'm making up excuses to stay away from my computer. My bookshelf has never been more alphabetized but I'm wasting daylight.

Augh. I have to lie down now. All this talk of attempting to buy a car is making me light headed and heavy hearted. I better start carving up a shank and practice walking long distances, the American public transit system is pretty bad.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

I'm just rambling here because apparently, I have forgotten how to compose a concise blog post

The only bummer with the internet is now everyone I want to chat with is offline by the time I get home. Y'all on the east coast need to stay up later. Or something. I could hunt down some west coasters, but then again, the few I do know seem to have lives. I mean, what is up with that?

So. Let's see. The last month. I started my new job and I am fairly happy. At first the transition from being senior management and supreme ruler (albeit totally ignored and not listened to ever) to being a lowly peon threw me for a loop. I had no idea how to take the level of stress down. Now, however, I feel I am adjusting quite nicely to not being in charge and not having every technical problem be blamed entirely on me. It is pretty sweet. Sure, I may sit in a cramped windowless room with three other people all day and I feel that my personal space is being greatly infringed upon but Much! Less! Stress! Seriously. Plus, these people kinda get me. It took years before I even let on my quirky sense of humor to people at the last job; at the new one I'm far more relaxed. Now, naturally there are retarded people and crazy stories to share but I can't: no blogging the new job. I actually care about keeping this one and prefer to not be found out. Sadly I shall have to save those for my memoirs.

My job now presents far less stress which is great! But this also means that the universe is not pleased, and naturally, decides to balance out my life by making things dramatically worse with my family. Fun. But such things shall not bother me right now for I am drinking and blogging for the first time ever! Drinking! And blogging! In my own living room! Hallelujah. As if this post wasn't rambling enough it is only going to get worse, so hold on to your hat.

More updates:


Nothing. Zilch. Remember my rules? No co-workers, associates of my ex or obvious crazies. Guess who are the only people who have offered interest? Guess who are the only people calling? AURGH. It has been months people. 2007 is shaping up to be the year of no dates. Where the hell am I supposed to be meet a nice dentist or something? WHERE? Not that this is a new or novel problem. There are entire magazines and publishing companies that have prospered for centuries based on this concept. I don't need Oprah telling me to dress nice when I go grocery shopping and leave myself open to new encounters. Grocery shopping is meant to be completed with unwashed hair in flannel pajama pants Oprah, don't make me feel all guilty that I'm not open to finding love in Walmart.


Um, already covered it.

Social Life:

I'm trying, still. I like to think that it is getting better but I still get discouraged. I still have a rough time constantly putting myself out there and feeling like I am a total loser because these are supposedly the care free fun times of my life and I am a dismal failure. Case in point: a girl I grew up with is living in New York City and jaunts off every. single. weekend. on fabulous trips around the world. She has designer clothes. She has a posh loft. Her damn parents send her the equivalent of my monthly salary to suppliment her income so DUH that helps, but good lord! I live in a shitty desert town and can hardly afford to pay all my bills every month. Wah Wah Wah pity party for me, I know, because I am truly grateful for what I have, but really, is a few groovy people to hang out with too much to ask? I'm not even looking to move out of my crappy city to some fab location, I just want people to laugh with over beers once or twice a month. Feh, moving on.

I can't remember anything else I need to update you on. It is the liquor. Now then, I am going to sit here and stare at my computer screen in hopes that someone will sign into some messenger program so that I can use the internet I can barely afford for contact with other human beings. Damnit people! Get thee online!

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Wedge Antilies

I'm back!

From outer space!

Yet my computer isn't so happy. Still. Something about 356 infected files. I'm not sure. I work in the tech field so you would think that I would begin have an idea about what I'm doing but no, that would not be the case. I can fix an ATM like you would not believe but personal home computing? What? If I don't need to build an exchange server for it I'm clueless. Don't blame me; I got my damn degree in Spanish. I didn't think that I would be going into the tech field. I thought I would be a writer of some sort, dividing my time between Spain and some fabulous flat in the states. I live in a shitty city in the desert and I work on computers. But enough already! Enough with the bitchng! I HAVE THE INTERNET!


Now then. I'm off to catch up on your damn archives. It's been too long.
The time draws near when I should have internet access once again. If my laptop repairs work and if my shady neighbors don't steal the modem that is being delivered (FINALLY) today and if there isn't some kind of freak power outtage or something I might, just maybe, have the internet again. Cross your toes people!

I need to take an informal poll in anticipation of said event. What do you use for your home connection to protect your internetness? You know, firewall, virus scan, etc. What works for you, what do you like, and what do you suggest? If it is free or cheap that is also a major bonus. My web company does not offer protection or a security suite so I'm left figuring it out on my own, which is where you, the internets, may be of some assistance.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

It's my party and I'll just sit alone, I guess.

Hello Birthday Well Wishers!

I hear, via phone text from another blogger, that the enchanting Ms. HollowSquirrel shared my birthday with the internets today. Thank you HollowSquirrel! When AT&T is done finding my missing phone and internet line order (that I PAID for two weeks ago, $120 freaking dollars) and actually hooking the damn thing up I might, MIGHT, for the first time in over a month be able to see blogs again. Oh sweet sweet jebus how I miss blogs. And the internet. This is being typed up in email, secret like, and mailed to my trusted posting pal who is keeping this miserable little site semi updated while I patiently await for the idiots at the phone company to sort out just why, exactly, they lost my order. Gah.

Anyhoo yay for birthdays! I'm going out for sushi tonight and if the people who said they were going to show up actually show up then it will be the best birthday ever. I would prefer to not be sitting alone eatting raw fish and crying salty tears into my saki so lets all hope that people don't flake, shall we?

I still miss you all!

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Hey All!

Loooooooong time, no blog.

I am okay, I still have no internet (which I am working on) and I am missing you all. I'm working on a solution but until said time be good and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Oh dear.

In between the weird way they paid my last check at my last job because I was salaried and the very bad way they are going to pay me at my new job because I am hourly I am going to be shorted a thousand dollars for the month.

Let me repeat that: One THOUSAND DOLLARS.

I am so infinitely screwed. I really, really hate the universe; more than words can describe even. The phrase “I am so fucked” has never rang more true. To say that I am more than just a little freaked out would also be true. Ironically I took the new job because it paid a little more and now it will take me literally months to even get back to the level where I was before the job change, never mind that I will not get to notice the difference in pay for nearly a year just to make up for this gap.

I’m taking it a wee bit, okay, colossally, bad because I now genuinely believe that everything I do, will do, or have ever done and that I am always permanently fucked.

I’m this close to the edge people.

So close to the edge, in fact, that I’m seeking professional help. We’ll see how that goes. In the meantime I can’t use the internet at work, I can’t order internet for home (hello negative cash flow) and my laptop isn’t working so hot so wifi is going to be a bit touchy. Um, extended blog vacation yet again? Except this time with more clinical depression and suicidal ideations? Yeah. Great. I’ll think of something. In the meantime please visit the people on my blogroll. I miss them and they will need company while I am sorting my freaking joke of a hellish life out.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Allo again!

Shhh, still using contaband internet. This could be dangerous, I may have to duck and cover anytime now.

In my part of the world my mind percieves my concept of linear time as being Saturday morning. I start my new job on Monday. Aside from the crippling nightmares I have had EVERY NIGHT about being trapped in my old job and unable to make my first day of work at my new job it has been a lovely bit of time off, but I am looking forward to getting home. I hope that after Monday the nightmares will cool off a bit and in turn I'll be able to eat solid foods again because I've kept my jaw clenched so tight in my sleep that I can't chew much more than applesauce. When I count my blessings I am glad that the majority of my time has been spent as the caretaker of a six year old, a three year old, a two year old and two ninety-five year olds because that means soft foods such as applesauce were in abundance. Someday, internet, someday I will take a vacation all my own. What luxury.

My grandparents, all their kids, all their kids' kids, and all their kids' kids' kids got together for a big family reunion. It was nice and I'm glad we were able to do it but I must be vain for a moment; we videotaped the event which took place at a beach and I am never eating again, holy hell. I'm at only 123lbs and I still looked like a damn beached whale. Camera adds ten pounds, blah blah blah, I wasn't tan, blah blah blah. Whatever. I don't understand how so little weight, comparitively to the rest of my obese country, can wear me so poorly. Keep in mind that I was under 100lbs for the majority of my life. Gah. Boo hoo, had to share my concerns with someone.

I'm quire nearly done with Harry Potter the 7th and I had already figured most of it. When I am done I may post my own epilogue but I'll warn of spoilers first.

Soon I'll have real access to real internet again. Yay!

Monday, August 6, 2007

shhhhhh am typing this super fast on parent's computer as they do not know about blog and the internet connection I had planned on using while on my vacation won't work. I start the new job on the 13th and as soon as it is safe to write again I'll update.

Gah. I feel 14 with all this sneaking.

Thank you for all the kind words!

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Quick Hey, but then I get all sentimental/crazy on you.

How ya doin?

Crazy? Because I am. It has been nothing but nuts the last few days what with trying to get my job in order and I have such mixed feelings. There isn't enough time to get these people trained on what they need to know yet I have been trying for two years so I guess there will never be enough time, it is some kind of paradox. Maybe. I could be using the word wrong. My brain is mush. I also have mixed feelings because it is like leaving an abusive realtionship; sure, he beats me, but he is all I have known for such a long time.

There are a few people I will truly miss but certainly not enough to stay. I can't let myself feel guilt over how bad things may get without me because A) that is ego, even if it is true and B) it is not my responsibility. Still. I am so good at being stressed about things that I absolutely cannot change.


You wake up one day and you spent how long in your job? Doing what? That you hate? Where did the time go? How the hell did I get stuck here and why didn't my very best efforts get me out sooner? What was the purpose of me wasting the last remains of my youth in a shitty job in a crappy town and winding up doing absolutly nothing for three years because I just couldn't escape? Why? Gah. Don't read this. It is drivel. I am crazy, as stated, and all up in mixed emotions and it may have more than a little to do with the 13 hour day I've already worked and the fact that I was forced to skip lunch. Trying to be rational and not all weepy on just the calories in an apple is not good.

But still.

What the hell am I doing with my life. Is this it? Why?

Monday, July 30, 2007

Woah there people! Could you cut down on the commenting just a little bit? I mean, you're going to crash the blogger server there!


Glad I don't own a gun/work in a post office

I fulfilled my civic duty this weekend by consuming mass quantities of quinine as to avoid picking up and then spreading malaria amongst the masses. I also made sure the stimulate the economy by purchasing ridiculously overpriced spirits mixed in with said quinine. Well, I didn't actually pay for one damn thing myself but someone did and overall I believe I am the model American right now.

More on that later.

I am too fucking pissed right now to see straight. At my job they have already started a rumor that I don't have another job to go to, that I was doing a shitty job all along and then one of the fucking C bitch whore motherfucking piece of shit slut managers made a lovely comment about how they wouldn't be getting much of anything out of me this week.



I worked my ASS off for you ungrateful motherfuckers for THREE FUCKING YEARS and I have been busting my ass this weekend (Yes, I worked BOTH DAYS) to ensure that everything I have to do gets fucking done before I leave. I have been nothing but mature and gracious and kind about leaving and have gone out of my way to be friendly, accommodating and nice.

I know I have to take the high road but seriously? So Fucking ready to walk the fucking hell out of this place right now. Too bad I am too broke to do it. Damnit. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing by leaving here with my head held high? I'm sorry, but I'm human, and the thought of continuing to bust my ass for this place, even if it is only another week, is really getting me down. At this point I can hardly see the reason to do anything; If I work my ass off, as I've pointed out to you all before, it won't make a lick of difference because those motherfuckers won't give one ounce of credit for what I did nor will they use any of it. If I don't do anything I am fulfilling their prophecy. FUCK! I am so happy to be getting out of here. I want so bad to walk right out, right now, and never come back. But I can't, right? Aren't I supposed to be mature about this?

Am I? It is a small enough town that I shouldn't go burning bridges, right? I need to know that I am doing the right thing by not packing up my bags and walking right out the fucking door right now, because I'm just not sure.

Friday, July 27, 2007


I really shouldn't be spending my time posting, much less doing anything other than rushing around like a speed addicted overachiever trying to get things in order during the one last week I have at work but I can't help it; I feel a responsibility to try to get things put in order before I go but I also feel a responsibility to over share my boring life with the blogosphere.

And let's face it, after my last day as a "Great Job Title Supervisor Person" at *Financial Institution* these fuckheads will never even crack open the binders and files I have worked diligently to create for them to help them after I am gone, no, they will be assholes and act like I left them high and dry and they will complain that they can't do their job because there is something I didn't do for them before I left and oh gob how put out can they be? As stated, they are fuckheads. You and I and every soul on the damn internets knows that even though I have laid out a perfect timeline schedule for the ATM install I won't be here to do (oh GOD that is so wonderful to say) that those fucktards will still manage to jack it up. Big time. It is actually a pathetic act in futility to do all of the stuff I am doing when I know damn well it will never be touched, used, or looked at, but I can't not do it. I just can't.

Just like I cannot not post. Man, my english skills sure have declined since working at this place, isn't that like a triple negative? I don't think they even let you do that in other languages.

Anywho the reason I am posting is to mention that since declaring my intention to date the universe has decided to call a moratorium on people asking me out. The only date offer I have received recently involves once again the guy who works with my ex. He tried about two months ago to ask me out and I just didn't call him back. If I wind up calling back someone I don't want to go out with I will find myself, in three months time, engaged to them and trying to figure out how to call off the wedding. I don't want to have a few kids with this guy before I am forced to just smother him to death in his sleep and dispose of his body in the Nevada desert, hence, I didn't initiate any contact with him at all. Naturally he took this to mean that he should call again in two months and leave me a ten minute long message about getting together this weekend for sushi. Sometimes guys can be weird, even if I tell them that I would rather copulate with a rabies infested baboon they still take it as a sign that they have a chance.

I plan to not call him back, again. I would solicit for suggestions but there are only two options: explain nicely that I am not interested and wind up trying to shake this guy for the rest of my life or just not call him back. He seems perfectly nice but there is no way, on a hot or cold day in hell, that I will date a colleague of my ex. That is just asking for trouble.

In between leaving the current job, taking a wee bit of time off to spend with family and starting my new job I don't even really have time for dating. Which, actually, is a silly thing to say because who can't make time to eat lobster and take moonlit walks on the beach? I mean, isn't that how dating works these days? eHarmony, in a fit of desperation to get me to sign up, has now offered me three months for the price of one, which means I would pay sixty bucks for ninety days of meetings with socially awkward shut ins and domestic abusers. Sweet. I'm almost considering doing it just to kick start my memoir titled "Holy Hell Internet Dating is the Scourge of Existence."

In the meantime I have my own little to-do list to finish before I leave.
1. Write thank you cards for all my co-workers
2. Find small thoughtful gifts for special co-workers
3. Take picture of my office/desk space (yes, am a dork, want to remember the
4. Find out which kinda co-worker someone wanted to set me up with once and accept a date with them JUST SO I FINALLY HAVE A DATE TO WRITE ABOUT for you guys, because, really, I am nothing if not a giver. Plus there is one kinda cute guy and I would maybe consider it now especially since I won't have to see him every day and it would be a great starter date.

That is it for now, other than I may be more than a little hurt that no one, not one person, asked me to guest post while they are at Blogher. Not one! Is it my use of the terms fuckhead, asshole, fucktard, monkeyfucker and bastard? Is it? I'm feeling kinda rejected here. Just know that if I had been asked it would have been the best post ever! Ever! But now you will never know because I hate all of you. Hate. Enjoy your stupid conference and see if I ever comment again fuck-bastard-tards.

Off to run reports now.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007


I have enough energy to go to the gym after a long day and actually enjoy it.

I have managed to stay up late, not pass out the second I get home, and even get to see a bit of nightime TV talk shows before I hit the sack.

I have energy.

I am happy.

I feel excited and content.

All these things for the first time in three years.


No exageration.

Did I mention I quit my job?

Yeah, that might have helped.

More on that later, after I put in my ridiculously over-booked two weeks and then a week vacation and then start my new job.

My new job.

Where the people seem really nice.

And they like me.

They really like me.

They like me so much that they worked hard to get me.

The pay is not great, only a dollar more an hour than I make now, but you know what? I haven't felt this good in years. I feel free. And safe. And not like doom is lurking around every corner. I can now sleep knowing that the company cell will not wake me up at 11pm, or 5am. Plus I get to work only 40 hours a week. You hear that? ONLY 40. They will not let me work more.

I am so relieved. And tired. But happy.

I'm not looking forward to the next two weeks but I am looking forward to starting a new chapter in my life.

It is about damn time.

Thank you for the good vibes. I believe I can actually feel them. :)

Monday, July 23, 2007

*fingers crossed*

Big things are afoot people, hence, I shall likely be missing in action for a few days. All I can say is hold your breath and pray for me! Send good vibes my way! I promise to update as soon as I can.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

So, in pursuit of punching up this blog and making things interesting (you know I do it all for you, internets) I decided to check out some online dating sites. I perused a bit and decided that I have no interest in baptist singles dot com, Match dot com or the local hook up site because they seem a bit seedy (sorry baptists, just keeping it real here). Of the horrid online dating sites at least eHarmony puts all kinds of time and effort into their marketing to make themselves appear a bit more genuine. I have already taken the eHarmony million question quiz, a long time ago, when I had literally run out of other internet quizzes to take, and they had REJECTED me. Bastards. Too bad they are the only online dating site that appears even remotely above board.

Aside from a desire for blog fodder I'm bored; and boring, as stated in this post below (have you left your nice thing yet?). Not only am I going to give the dating thing a go but I am also trying to not post about work as much; I need content, and what better way to speed things up than with the veritable smorgasbord of love that e-dating supposedly provides?

Lo and behold when I answered the slew of totally indeterminate personal questions this time around eHarmony somehow deemed me acceptable. I have taken a slew of personality tests for jobs lately and perhaps I was in the mindset to make things work. I love answering questions like "Have you ever shown up to work high on crack cocaine?" (This was indeed a real question on a real job application) because it gives me fodder to think about for days. First, who the hell would answer this with a positive? Second, why just crack cocaine? Is heroine okay? Should I write that one time I freebased meth right before my shift? Is it only the crack cocaine you are worried about or is cool if I bring in some of those amazonian tree frogs in to lick during my breaks? Sure, I take hits of LSD daily, but I never touch crack, that shit is just whack.

The eHarmony test is pretty much the same as the personality profiling tests that they now administer for every job in the Northern Hemisphere: I don't hear voices that aren't there. I don't think about suicide on a daily basis. I don't cut myself, have any sexual obsessions (save a young Robert Redford, but really, can that be called obsession?) and even as craptastic as my life is I am still pretty grateful to have it. I don't know if I was just in my test taking groove and that is why I passed the eHarmony slew of nonsensical questions this time and failed it before, but I passed, and that is all that matters.

Within a matter of moments eHarmony had given me five potential matches! Five! I quickly read their profiles and the generic answers they gave to the generic questions and then went on to more important business, being that my lunch hour had ended. By today eHarmony had flooded my email inbox with twelve new potential soul mates and several of them have even indicated an interest in meeting me, even though I have posted no picture. Being the good sport that I am I logged in again and filled out answers to the silly questions that were posed to me by the gentlemen that showed interest and hit submit. Small problem, I forgot that you have to pay for this crap.

I'm sorry, pay? I do not understand. This is virtually a Myspace knockoff that just asks a great deal more questions that can easily be lied about. The only thing differentiating eHarmony from the Craigslist random hook up page is that you have to suffer through three or four dates before you can ask the person to video tape you making love to a bologna sandwich. Why on earth would I pay for this? To make things even more ridiculous I looked at the price list. Go google it and come back to me.

It's cool, I'll wait.

Yikes! Sixty bucks for one month!?! The hell! If I sign up for a full year the price drops to roughly twenty bucks a month, or $250.00 a year. Let me reiterate: You. Must. Be. Freaking. Kidding. Me. I could use that twenty a month and go sit in a bar alone. I would likely wind up with the same quality of dates, if not a much larger quantity, and my hard earned money would be spent on something useful, such as vodka tonics, as opposed to a stupid dating site. My one twenty dollar splurge a month is Netflix and with that I know exactly what I am getting and when I am getting it. Could eHarmony, with all their in depth personality probing quizzes, even come close to the same guarantee from Netflix? I think not. I can't afford the name brand top ramen much less a stupid dating site. Pay to have creeps I don't know take me to secluded places alone? Great! Let me give you my account number so you can direct debit the money!

I'm tempted to doll myself up, find some cardboard and a black marker, and stand on the corner of an intersection holding a sign that says "eHarmony is way too expensive-email me!" smiling during rush hour. Why the hell not? It is damn close to the same thing, it doesn't cost a dime, and it would get me out of the house. I think this is brilliant. So long as I don't do it in the part of town frequented by prostitutes I think I'll be fine.

It is too bad that I'll never get to know Kevin, the 27 year old *attorney* (bullshit) who values romance and emotional intimacy above everything, or Larry, the 30 something who couldn't spell the word "financial" correctly in his profile to describe his career. This is the sort of site that would probably profit well from learning what nightclubs have known for years: Guys pay, women get in free. I'm not saying it is a fair world, or that I wouldn't like it to be, I am just saying that as long as I make far less money than guys do then I'm not paying to meet up with a bunch of those that couldn't get dates in real life.

I really do want to start dating and sharing my stories with the internet, I just think I am going to have to do it the old fashioned way; wait for someone to ask me out in person.

If you need me I will be at the gym pretending I don't know how to use the weights, dressed in a skirt at the local farmer's market, eating lunch alone with perfume on and getting myself a drink after work at any number of local bars. I'll be holding an unlit cigarette while leaning against a piano, standing next to my car on the side of the road with my hood popped open, struggling with some heavy objects on a set of stairs and pretending to be lost in the automotive parts section of a store. I'll be in heels at Home Depot, fishnets at a sports bar and standing next to a roulette table wearing a very low cut gown. Hmmmm. Maybe the eHarmony thing isn't so bad after all. Do you suppose I could find someone to pay the monthly fee for me?