I am losing it. I came home from work, a half an hour early because we had a working lunch because of the state stuff and like I said, this morning's run killed me. I felt like I wasn't going to even make it to five, so I had to leave.
I left. I left and came home, had some delicious baked mac and cheese and laid in my bed and slowly drifted off to dream land. My alarm was set for 9pm.
7:12 p.m.- My eyes shoot open.
What is that God-awful noise?! The basement door is open and there is no muffling of the upstairs noises. I hear everything. People are screaming, literally screaming, yelling each other's names, belting out songs, banging on the piano, and I know I sound like the fun killer right now, but please please people, just close the damned basement door.
Why are you jumping up and down in the house like you are jumping rope? What are you doing up there? Murdering someone? I don't understand how all this noise is being produced or why. I want to die.
I lay there for a second thinking about whether I am going to contribute to the hub-bub of things and I decide that I should just get up and close the basement door even though I know the risk is wide eyed cranky werewolf-ishness.
It has begun. I am the crankiest girl you ever did meet at this moment. Please. Stay away.
I feel like a werewolf because I feel like I am slowly turning, my shoulder twitching up to my ear and chin as my head simultaneously tilts and turns to the left. My senses become heightened, my eyes squint. I'm thirsty for blood and the next person that gets in my way will fall prey to my new super human strength aka I'm effing irritated. Poor victim was my unsuspecting, unoffending little brother. He walks down the basement steps and I bark to him to make sure the door is closed when he goes up as I am about to lose it. He earlier closed the door for me and doesn't realize that it has been open for forever now and says how it has been closed and I inform him, no, I just closed that. He gets a little offensive.
He comes down again. I apologize and am now zombie eyed in the bed as my werewolf is beginning to wear off-only slightly. I am seated up right in my bed looking absolutely crazy as I complain to my brother about the raucous above us. He agrees. Thank God for blood and a life before this. Hell thank God for a life after this.
He ventures above ground again leaving me alone to deal with the still so loud noise party above even with the muffling of the floor boards. Next thing I know someone is screaming another person's name which I don;'t get because why can't you just go looking for the person? The house is not at all that large. Soon I will be implementing the ringing bell so that if you hear the bell you will have your attention captured instead of this top of the lung screaming business. Needless to say, I can't keep in my werewolf any longer and howl a so nasty howl that sounded something like oh my God, but very strangled and full of distress.
I then hastily grab my trusty CareBear blanket which has been half way across the world with me and an oversized pillow. One of my stepsisters is at the top of the stairs as I reach the bottom and she is wondering if I am ok, if I am hurt. Physically I am not. Mentally there may be a sprain somewhere that if isn't treated will most definitely lead to a break. My mother is wondering what is going on and as I look completely haggard as I did just get up from my bed, she appears quite concerned.
I exclaim that I am moving out. I then proceed to the front of the house, past the living room and out the front door with pillow and blanket in tow. As I attempted to lay down and sleep in the driveway I realize that this is a bit unreasonable and with my disorientation circle my mother's car twice thinking only about car keys, my car keys as I opt for the comfort of my car. I then remember that my keys are in the basement lair and I don't care to venture back down there and so I walk back through the front door, past the living room, through the kitchen, through the sliding door that leads me to the garage. We have a love seat out there that I have decided to lay in. I still hear my mother and my brother and I realize defeated, that I give up. I return back to the house while suggestions to close the garage door and what not are thrown at me.
Enough. You win. I lose. And I am wide awake. The search for apartments begins.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
New Low
Running is beginning to ruin my life. It is bringing down my self esteem and I really just want to never do it again, but as I sit here in these size 11 pants and they give me toasty baker's goods spilling over my waistband, I realize that I must, because I refuse to go a pant size higher (although I do own those larger sizes). I have also part way ruined my run as it is ruining me because I ate a sprinkle frosted donut just to spite the mother. Ha! Take that. You don't control me! I must admit that I will be a slave to the weight machine tonight and that tomorrow morning I will rise again and try to distract myself as I run for those tortuous three miles. Oh did I say that I drove in my car to clock the mileage? That is how I know it is three miles. It seemed like it took forever to do that even in my vehicle. Who invented running? Whomever they are, they should be shot. Just a thought.
So I ate out last night with the bestie celebrating her first day at a new job and of course we stop and talk to everyone on the streets because we are on Elmwood and she knows everyone. I realize that I am just an introverted hermit crab. I don't care to know people and I don't want to know people. I would actually prefer if you stopped talking to me. Thank you.
That night we are snapping pics and trying to find a place to have dinner. The first place the service sucked and so we left. The next place is a traditional pick as we are always heading there for special occasions like graduations and birthdays and goodbyes and what not. So we head there and our server is amazing. She laughs with us. I'm sitting around with my lawyer looking best friend and I'm sitting there with gladiator sandals and my rayon blazer, which as my new gay man friend tells me that rayon is a nice little material as it is a natural fabric being a component of wood. Well, personally I think rayon sucks because you wash it once and then that article of clothing is dunzo. Done like through. I need my items to last a few years. Just saying.
Well we are sitting and chatting and the poor other diners are no longer having a nice quiet slash peaceful dining experience since we have walked in the doors. We are yucking it up and just enjoying ourselves thoroughly. Now there is this one topic that comes up and I can't help but laugh as it takes me completely off guard. My friend ends up telling me how she thinks that this girl we know mutually has something wrong with her. This makes me laugh because the population that she deals with is a little touched (please excuse my political incorrectness). When we initially met the girl, we found that she had a bit of social awkwardness about her seemingly highly uncomfortable in social situations and thus not knowing how to conduct herself.
My friend learned first hand that she led a very sheltered life and has decided that she isn't sure if she can be friends with her any longer due to the fact that a lot of what she said at their last meeting was highly offensive. I may save that until later. Needless to say there are different types of friends. You have real friends, the rarest to find. These people will be right in the thick of things with you and typically are life long companions. Now you may also come across fake friends. These are the worst kind, but come in throngs. You can always find a faker. They will be in your face when things are good, but let things get not so good and if they haven't high tailed it out of there, then they are most likely just adding to the drama and your stress. Let them be aka let them go.
You may also encounter the middle friend. The middle friend doesn't (super)suck. You can do more with them than party. You can have conversations and share parts of your life with them. The issue with a middle friend is that they have a great way of making it seem like they are a real friend, when it doesn't go much farther than a few things and probably involves them in some way shape or form. These are people that you go to when you just want to vent and are in party mode because they are fun, just not always the most reliable. They are usually the people that you can go without talking to and not even notice. Fakers can be like that too, except Fakers are so malicious and good at their jobs that you will want to be around a Faker and be (real) friends with them. Hell you probably think that you already are. They are scary. Watch out for them.
Associates will also come into play, they are like a combination of middle friends and fakers. You usually just party with thes people and don't share much of who you are in part to the fact that what makes them an associate is that you don't spend very much time with them. I likd associates.
That girl has been demoted from middle friend to associate. Shame.
I am so looking forward to this work day ending. I am not making it. That run did me in this morning. I am also staring at my phone like a desperate ninnie. I think I may need to flip it over and attempt to do some work. Yes. Work. That is why I get paid isn't it? Because all this that I am talking about is not nearly that interesting.
Sorry.
Oh, right, I thought that I should also inform you that I put deodorant on this morning before I left the house instead of at the office. I'm also not wearing a bra. Professionalism, here I come!
So I ate out last night with the bestie celebrating her first day at a new job and of course we stop and talk to everyone on the streets because we are on Elmwood and she knows everyone. I realize that I am just an introverted hermit crab. I don't care to know people and I don't want to know people. I would actually prefer if you stopped talking to me. Thank you.
That night we are snapping pics and trying to find a place to have dinner. The first place the service sucked and so we left. The next place is a traditional pick as we are always heading there for special occasions like graduations and birthdays and goodbyes and what not. So we head there and our server is amazing. She laughs with us. I'm sitting around with my lawyer looking best friend and I'm sitting there with gladiator sandals and my rayon blazer, which as my new gay man friend tells me that rayon is a nice little material as it is a natural fabric being a component of wood. Well, personally I think rayon sucks because you wash it once and then that article of clothing is dunzo. Done like through. I need my items to last a few years. Just saying.
Well we are sitting and chatting and the poor other diners are no longer having a nice quiet slash peaceful dining experience since we have walked in the doors. We are yucking it up and just enjoying ourselves thoroughly. Now there is this one topic that comes up and I can't help but laugh as it takes me completely off guard. My friend ends up telling me how she thinks that this girl we know mutually has something wrong with her. This makes me laugh because the population that she deals with is a little touched (please excuse my political incorrectness). When we initially met the girl, we found that she had a bit of social awkwardness about her seemingly highly uncomfortable in social situations and thus not knowing how to conduct herself.
My friend learned first hand that she led a very sheltered life and has decided that she isn't sure if she can be friends with her any longer due to the fact that a lot of what she said at their last meeting was highly offensive. I may save that until later. Needless to say there are different types of friends. You have real friends, the rarest to find. These people will be right in the thick of things with you and typically are life long companions. Now you may also come across fake friends. These are the worst kind, but come in throngs. You can always find a faker. They will be in your face when things are good, but let things get not so good and if they haven't high tailed it out of there, then they are most likely just adding to the drama and your stress. Let them be aka let them go.
You may also encounter the middle friend. The middle friend doesn't (super)suck. You can do more with them than party. You can have conversations and share parts of your life with them. The issue with a middle friend is that they have a great way of making it seem like they are a real friend, when it doesn't go much farther than a few things and probably involves them in some way shape or form. These are people that you go to when you just want to vent and are in party mode because they are fun, just not always the most reliable. They are usually the people that you can go without talking to and not even notice. Fakers can be like that too, except Fakers are so malicious and good at their jobs that you will want to be around a Faker and be (real) friends with them. Hell you probably think that you already are. They are scary. Watch out for them.
Associates will also come into play, they are like a combination of middle friends and fakers. You usually just party with thes people and don't share much of who you are in part to the fact that what makes them an associate is that you don't spend very much time with them. I likd associates.
That girl has been demoted from middle friend to associate. Shame.
I am so looking forward to this work day ending. I am not making it. That run did me in this morning. I am also staring at my phone like a desperate ninnie. I think I may need to flip it over and attempt to do some work. Yes. Work. That is why I get paid isn't it? Because all this that I am talking about is not nearly that interesting.
Sorry.
Oh, right, I thought that I should also inform you that I put deodorant on this morning before I left the house instead of at the office. I'm also not wearing a bra. Professionalism, here I come!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Looking Up From the Ground
Already this morning, I have managed to burn my pinky finger and narrowly escape the grips of a huge nasty centipede that has been taking over my basement living space.
This is the second time that I have seen the nasty bugger and the second time that he has just vanished into thin air. It's like he knows I am going for the shoe because every time I pick it up and aim and point, gone and then all I can think is where the hell did he go? Did he just drop down to the ground? Is there a hole in the wall and if so am I going to step on him? Does that mean he has a family? Basically I think that not only will I eat spiders in my sleep, but that the centipede will be crawling overhead of me and then decide to just drop down as it so conveniently does when I am trying to kill it. Why doesn't he just want to die? Just meet my shoe already. Gheeze.
Now yesterday, I watched Rise of the Planet of the Apes. I told you without explanation that I was no longer allowed to watch love sappy movies because they are ruining my life? Well they are. Who cries during Bridesmaids (what I saw the day the disclaimer went out) and Planet of the Apes? Worst part is that they are not even intentionally love sappy movies. There main purpose is not the portrayal of love, but comedy and suspense. How do I find the undertones of love in everything?
Needless to say, I found myself crying and screaming at the television, "Just tell him you love him!! You know you do! Just tell him!" I also found tears in my eyes more than once. Caesar touched and tugged at my heart strings with his above average intelligence and animal instincts rolled into one. How come the human wasn't able to express something so fundamental in relationship building? Affection is natural and necessary. Man is a social creature. Just saying. I also yelled when whatever his name is came to get Caesar out of the hell hole for primates and Caesar closed the door on him. I had to yell that he better not walk away!! Did he walk away? Of course. Caesar would have gone right on home with you if you would have fought just an inch, an inch. That is not a big measurement, but that simple thing would have made all the difference, especially when the other individual is hurt and believes that you don't care in the first place. It was killing Caesar to make that move, but in the end it was best for him because scientist guy just wasn't strong enough to handle such a sensitive soul.
See? What was that? I have some serious issues. I'm sure it is because I am a sappy helplessly hopeless romantic. I make myself sick. I may also need to discuss this with someone with a degree and a couch.
So. To add to my list of morning things done, I have also severed the remaining part of my nail entirely from the nail bed. It is hanging by a side thread. The bandaid that I have now plastered to my finger is making it entirely difficult to type this here information. I may have to stop. I don't think I can. Now the trouble with this all started back in my London travels. My best friend came to visit and literally something like the first or second day she came to visit we had already put a few drinks back and the next thing you know I want to kill her and another girl because they are singing chorale songs and we had things to do besides sing and I have this intense aversion to singing and whistling at times. I think my influence intensified this new found dislike and so I run to the back of the apartment, but I don't quite make it. I end up eating it instead and somehow my entire body weight landed upon my wittle tiny ring finger on my right hand.
That fall resulted in one of the most painful and longest aftermath consequential issues since I had to get stitches. When first examining the tip of my finger it look like I had fingertips that were made of strawberries. I had burst capillaries in my finger and so I had red blotches covering the tip of my finger. My nail looked as I described it in the first two weeks like Two-Face from Batman. It was a healthy and deep shade of bruised up black and blue, but I said Two-Face because it was only half my nail. As it healed and I thought I was out of the thick of it, my nail was referred to as the man with out a face. Two Face wasn't healed and looked more raw, which my nail did in the beginning but Mel Gibson with only half a good face healed and scarred over was what my nail soon began to resemble.
I had to take extra care as after some time I began to realize that the nail was not only discolored, but it was also dead, so half of my nail could be lifted from the nail bed, trapping things under there contributing to the overall grotesque nature of the damaged finger and there was always the fear of getting things caught under there. This fear was soon realized as one day at work I noticed a hair of unknown origin wedged under the flap of my dead nail and the healing nail bed. I was sure of an infection, but as it would be the lifting nail soon found itself ripping at the side and getting caught on things and ripping deeper into my healthy undead nail and nail bed. This was becoming quite painful and so one night, as it was disrupting my sleep, I simply clipped away as much of the dead nail without hurting the undead. This left me with an L shaped nail with an exposed bed as if I bit my fingernail for a living, the bad biting.
I have had a manicure with that L shaped nail and it looks disgusting to say the least and it is a bit embarrassing, but I was beginning to get over that have had three different nail colors to hide the rest of the dead nail and boost morale. Well today would be the day that as I am lifting a box and try to place it down that it so happens to catch and lift back the good part of my bad nail. What gives? Blood dripping everywhere and I still can't manage to get this typing thing down. It is taking me significantly longer and I keep trying to bypass that finger by using another one which messes me up because I can't find the home keys as easily since I am mixing them up. I need a caretaker, because clearly I am a walking disaster. So much for the morale boost.
So I managed to do a bit of work today aka help hang up a sign promoting HIV testing since the state is coming in today. I was raising my arms and I don't smell, but of course I haven't put any deodorant on today and so I have come to realize that the no deodorant thing is reaching a new high or low, however you want to look at it. I am beginning to question why people like me. I don't wear deodorant on a daily basis( I did put some on after the arm raise, feeling a bit insecure), I don't always shave my legs or my armpits especially if it is winter time ( I need all the extra warmth)-imagine what else can go untamed, I wash my face in the shower, but probably not how most people do. I think that boogers are gross, but aren't dirty and apparently I pick my nose on many occasions. I like to pop pimples, being barefoot is best, and sometimes I won't shower for a few days. Gross, gross, gross. But, people still like me and I don't know why.
I think it might be a good thing that I don't wear make-up since people like me now without it while knowing about all those gross things. Imagine if I was super pretty. I could do so many gross things and totally get away with it. Thinking about some of them just made me throw up a little in my mouth.
I swallowed it.
This is the second time that I have seen the nasty bugger and the second time that he has just vanished into thin air. It's like he knows I am going for the shoe because every time I pick it up and aim and point, gone and then all I can think is where the hell did he go? Did he just drop down to the ground? Is there a hole in the wall and if so am I going to step on him? Does that mean he has a family? Basically I think that not only will I eat spiders in my sleep, but that the centipede will be crawling overhead of me and then decide to just drop down as it so conveniently does when I am trying to kill it. Why doesn't he just want to die? Just meet my shoe already. Gheeze.
Now yesterday, I watched Rise of the Planet of the Apes. I told you without explanation that I was no longer allowed to watch love sappy movies because they are ruining my life? Well they are. Who cries during Bridesmaids (what I saw the day the disclaimer went out) and Planet of the Apes? Worst part is that they are not even intentionally love sappy movies. There main purpose is not the portrayal of love, but comedy and suspense. How do I find the undertones of love in everything?
Needless to say, I found myself crying and screaming at the television, "Just tell him you love him!! You know you do! Just tell him!" I also found tears in my eyes more than once. Caesar touched and tugged at my heart strings with his above average intelligence and animal instincts rolled into one. How come the human wasn't able to express something so fundamental in relationship building? Affection is natural and necessary. Man is a social creature. Just saying. I also yelled when whatever his name is came to get Caesar out of the hell hole for primates and Caesar closed the door on him. I had to yell that he better not walk away!! Did he walk away? Of course. Caesar would have gone right on home with you if you would have fought just an inch, an inch. That is not a big measurement, but that simple thing would have made all the difference, especially when the other individual is hurt and believes that you don't care in the first place. It was killing Caesar to make that move, but in the end it was best for him because scientist guy just wasn't strong enough to handle such a sensitive soul.
See? What was that? I have some serious issues. I'm sure it is because I am a sappy helplessly hopeless romantic. I make myself sick. I may also need to discuss this with someone with a degree and a couch.
So. To add to my list of morning things done, I have also severed the remaining part of my nail entirely from the nail bed. It is hanging by a side thread. The bandaid that I have now plastered to my finger is making it entirely difficult to type this here information. I may have to stop. I don't think I can. Now the trouble with this all started back in my London travels. My best friend came to visit and literally something like the first or second day she came to visit we had already put a few drinks back and the next thing you know I want to kill her and another girl because they are singing chorale songs and we had things to do besides sing and I have this intense aversion to singing and whistling at times. I think my influence intensified this new found dislike and so I run to the back of the apartment, but I don't quite make it. I end up eating it instead and somehow my entire body weight landed upon my wittle tiny ring finger on my right hand.
That fall resulted in one of the most painful and longest aftermath consequential issues since I had to get stitches. When first examining the tip of my finger it look like I had fingertips that were made of strawberries. I had burst capillaries in my finger and so I had red blotches covering the tip of my finger. My nail looked as I described it in the first two weeks like Two-Face from Batman. It was a healthy and deep shade of bruised up black and blue, but I said Two-Face because it was only half my nail. As it healed and I thought I was out of the thick of it, my nail was referred to as the man with out a face. Two Face wasn't healed and looked more raw, which my nail did in the beginning but Mel Gibson with only half a good face healed and scarred over was what my nail soon began to resemble.
I had to take extra care as after some time I began to realize that the nail was not only discolored, but it was also dead, so half of my nail could be lifted from the nail bed, trapping things under there contributing to the overall grotesque nature of the damaged finger and there was always the fear of getting things caught under there. This fear was soon realized as one day at work I noticed a hair of unknown origin wedged under the flap of my dead nail and the healing nail bed. I was sure of an infection, but as it would be the lifting nail soon found itself ripping at the side and getting caught on things and ripping deeper into my healthy undead nail and nail bed. This was becoming quite painful and so one night, as it was disrupting my sleep, I simply clipped away as much of the dead nail without hurting the undead. This left me with an L shaped nail with an exposed bed as if I bit my fingernail for a living, the bad biting.
I have had a manicure with that L shaped nail and it looks disgusting to say the least and it is a bit embarrassing, but I was beginning to get over that have had three different nail colors to hide the rest of the dead nail and boost morale. Well today would be the day that as I am lifting a box and try to place it down that it so happens to catch and lift back the good part of my bad nail. What gives? Blood dripping everywhere and I still can't manage to get this typing thing down. It is taking me significantly longer and I keep trying to bypass that finger by using another one which messes me up because I can't find the home keys as easily since I am mixing them up. I need a caretaker, because clearly I am a walking disaster. So much for the morale boost.
So I managed to do a bit of work today aka help hang up a sign promoting HIV testing since the state is coming in today. I was raising my arms and I don't smell, but of course I haven't put any deodorant on today and so I have come to realize that the no deodorant thing is reaching a new high or low, however you want to look at it. I am beginning to question why people like me. I don't wear deodorant on a daily basis( I did put some on after the arm raise, feeling a bit insecure), I don't always shave my legs or my armpits especially if it is winter time ( I need all the extra warmth)-imagine what else can go untamed, I wash my face in the shower, but probably not how most people do. I think that boogers are gross, but aren't dirty and apparently I pick my nose on many occasions. I like to pop pimples, being barefoot is best, and sometimes I won't shower for a few days. Gross, gross, gross. But, people still like me and I don't know why.
I think it might be a good thing that I don't wear make-up since people like me now without it while knowing about all those gross things. Imagine if I was super pretty. I could do so many gross things and totally get away with it. Thinking about some of them just made me throw up a little in my mouth.
I swallowed it.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Who Does Diets?!
I am starving. I decided that I would only bring cherries, grapes, a cucumber, and a tomato to work with me today. I think I hate myself.
I have been running. Ran again today and not the drunk gotta go running, but the healthy down the street running. Went with mom this morning and I love her, but never again. She stops and walks, then runs again and I can't. When I stop I think that the run is over. My body thinks we are stopping for good and that inner monologue that I had going gets all jumbled and I lose my place and then my feet start to drag and I become very aware of how effing tired I am and how my muscles are screaming at me because they are sore and hurt and I nearly found myself run over by a car this morning. Not a good look. And so thanks to all this new found running, I am attempting to eat in a healthy manner, but I want more substance. I thought the fruit would make me happy, but I am just sad.
Yesterday, I have to head out to my babysitter family's house and so I go, things are fine, just checking up because they are going on a Disney cruise to Alaska. Jealous for one, but for two we are just going over things as they left today and I won't be seeing them until they return next Tuesday. Well anyways, just hanging out chit chatting then I decide ok, I am all the way out here (Orchard Park), I may as well head to the wonderful Tj Maxx out here. I haven't been interested in carrying bags lately and so I am contemplating whether I should bring one in with me to the store. I choose yes, but I happen to have two bags in my junkard of a car and so I choose the smaller of the two. Mistake. As I place my phone, my passport (don't ask) and my wallet in this tiny satchel, I lock the doors, close them and walk maybe ten feet away. It is then that I look in the little bag searching for keys, that I undoubtedly know I left in the car seeing that I do this quite often. The only good part about this situation, with my keys staring at me through the passenger window fitted nicely into the ignition, was that I was in the Tj Maxx parking lot. If I had been else where I am not sure how this situation would have gone.
Now I say that I chose the wrong bag because my larger bag had the spare key that I helped myself to the morning of the panty flagging and what not at the gas station. It would happen that I would not replace the spare thinking that it wouldn't be necessary. Hello self!! Have you not met your-self?! I'm going to need me to get that together.
I have currently been at work since 9:15 am. It is now 12:15 pm. Three hours. I have five more to go. I am not sure I will make it. I have also done maybe twenty minutes of work. I have been half working, half searching for fall shoes to purchase and then place on my feet. I have shopping issues. It is decided.
I need to input 14 things into the system which shouldn't take long at all, but I need to start for it to get done. I need a vacation. The state is coming in here tomorrow. We have a grant from them that funds our HIV initiative and so they want to make sure that we are not only implementing it effectively, but also properly and at all. So stressed. So much to do in preparation and I feel as if I am the only one cleaning things up. Hello?! Whatever. Lame.
I lied, I have also been filling myself with artificial sugars in the form of juicy tangy fruity skittles. Damn the little buggers.
I have also been propositioned the selling of my vehicle. I don't believe that I am ready to give her up yet. The other day I looked at her and it was like looking at an old family pet who hobbles up and down the stairs, looking at you with the pitiful eyes as if to question you, why, oh why did you have stairs put here? Well that was how my baby was looking, pitiful and sad and beat up and worn down and just plainly and simply, old. My baby is old. She has skin cancer on her front hood and no amount of wax is going to help her. Key lesson that sunscreen is very important. She can't go as fast as she used to, just a slow little gal. Makes me so sad, but at the end of it all, she was my first car and I love her. I can't imagine driving any other car. I don't think I'd fit in them. I just love my baby. The Money Maker. She's a trooper. That's what her name should really be. Trooper. Sounds rugged and manly, which I will switch to androgynous. Just saying.
The whole point of me thinking back on my baby like that is because someone said that they wanted to purchase her and they can't!! I love her too much. I can't let her go! It is too difficult to think of. I can't say that anyone would in their right mind want to purchase and that is the key word, purchase my car. She is old and nearly ready to fall apart, well I think she has a year or two left in her still, but I don't think that she should be switched over owners. The depression may set in and then it will all be downhill. I love her and she loves me. We are good for each other. Everyone knows it is me coming down the street. I just love her. I can't do it. I can't. I have to break the news to the potential, who no longer has potential, buyer.
I think that I must either get some work done or go to lunch. Tough decision.
I also just received a phone call from a vision center. Darnation. Seeing that I haven't been able to contact my patient for the past week now. It makes me quite sad. I must admit that I hate cricket telephones. They do me no good.
I have decided to be productive. Maybe now I will have my cucumber.
I have been running. Ran again today and not the drunk gotta go running, but the healthy down the street running. Went with mom this morning and I love her, but never again. She stops and walks, then runs again and I can't. When I stop I think that the run is over. My body thinks we are stopping for good and that inner monologue that I had going gets all jumbled and I lose my place and then my feet start to drag and I become very aware of how effing tired I am and how my muscles are screaming at me because they are sore and hurt and I nearly found myself run over by a car this morning. Not a good look. And so thanks to all this new found running, I am attempting to eat in a healthy manner, but I want more substance. I thought the fruit would make me happy, but I am just sad.
Yesterday, I have to head out to my babysitter family's house and so I go, things are fine, just checking up because they are going on a Disney cruise to Alaska. Jealous for one, but for two we are just going over things as they left today and I won't be seeing them until they return next Tuesday. Well anyways, just hanging out chit chatting then I decide ok, I am all the way out here (Orchard Park), I may as well head to the wonderful Tj Maxx out here. I haven't been interested in carrying bags lately and so I am contemplating whether I should bring one in with me to the store. I choose yes, but I happen to have two bags in my junkard of a car and so I choose the smaller of the two. Mistake. As I place my phone, my passport (don't ask) and my wallet in this tiny satchel, I lock the doors, close them and walk maybe ten feet away. It is then that I look in the little bag searching for keys, that I undoubtedly know I left in the car seeing that I do this quite often. The only good part about this situation, with my keys staring at me through the passenger window fitted nicely into the ignition, was that I was in the Tj Maxx parking lot. If I had been else where I am not sure how this situation would have gone.
Now I say that I chose the wrong bag because my larger bag had the spare key that I helped myself to the morning of the panty flagging and what not at the gas station. It would happen that I would not replace the spare thinking that it wouldn't be necessary. Hello self!! Have you not met your-self?! I'm going to need me to get that together.
I have currently been at work since 9:15 am. It is now 12:15 pm. Three hours. I have five more to go. I am not sure I will make it. I have also done maybe twenty minutes of work. I have been half working, half searching for fall shoes to purchase and then place on my feet. I have shopping issues. It is decided.
I need to input 14 things into the system which shouldn't take long at all, but I need to start for it to get done. I need a vacation. The state is coming in here tomorrow. We have a grant from them that funds our HIV initiative and so they want to make sure that we are not only implementing it effectively, but also properly and at all. So stressed. So much to do in preparation and I feel as if I am the only one cleaning things up. Hello?! Whatever. Lame.
I lied, I have also been filling myself with artificial sugars in the form of juicy tangy fruity skittles. Damn the little buggers.
I have also been propositioned the selling of my vehicle. I don't believe that I am ready to give her up yet. The other day I looked at her and it was like looking at an old family pet who hobbles up and down the stairs, looking at you with the pitiful eyes as if to question you, why, oh why did you have stairs put here? Well that was how my baby was looking, pitiful and sad and beat up and worn down and just plainly and simply, old. My baby is old. She has skin cancer on her front hood and no amount of wax is going to help her. Key lesson that sunscreen is very important. She can't go as fast as she used to, just a slow little gal. Makes me so sad, but at the end of it all, she was my first car and I love her. I can't imagine driving any other car. I don't think I'd fit in them. I just love my baby. The Money Maker. She's a trooper. That's what her name should really be. Trooper. Sounds rugged and manly, which I will switch to androgynous. Just saying.
The whole point of me thinking back on my baby like that is because someone said that they wanted to purchase her and they can't!! I love her too much. I can't let her go! It is too difficult to think of. I can't say that anyone would in their right mind want to purchase and that is the key word, purchase my car. She is old and nearly ready to fall apart, well I think she has a year or two left in her still, but I don't think that she should be switched over owners. The depression may set in and then it will all be downhill. I love her and she loves me. We are good for each other. Everyone knows it is me coming down the street. I just love her. I can't do it. I can't. I have to break the news to the potential, who no longer has potential, buyer.
I think that I must either get some work done or go to lunch. Tough decision.
I also just received a phone call from a vision center. Darnation. Seeing that I haven't been able to contact my patient for the past week now. It makes me quite sad. I must admit that I hate cricket telephones. They do me no good.
I have decided to be productive. Maybe now I will have my cucumber.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
One of Many
I am a runner. No, I haven't been running since Thursday night or whenever that was, although I will go today (hopefully), but I am a runner. I find myself in situations and then I run.
Last night I am hanging with a new group of kids and I get super awkward in new situations. Some people find my awkward really endearing or they think that I am not so awkward and that it is super cool and other people take my awkward as jack off. I don't like the last one since I promise you I am pretty far off from a jack off (most days).
Well last night I am thrown into this new situation and I realize that I am quite opinionated and I was told that apparently I need people to do things for me aka I am a control freak and it is either my way or no way. I blame my mother for this. Because of her I think that there is only one way to do things and that one way is not only the right way, but it is also my way. Poor lady. Her new husband was driving and she says, "I wouldn't have gone this way." Translation- Why the hell did you go this way?! It is wrong. Not only was his way not the wrong way, but it was actually less out of the way than the route my mother would have taken. So not only do we think we are always right, but we are more often times not. I have found myself in similar situations. People can't even peel potatoes around me. I have issues. Admittance is the first step. I believe I am making progress.
Who invented skittles in a cup? Terrible invention. Tasty, but terrible. Shwasted and shmammered (nearly) after two cups of that. That is called a problem. Who's idea was that? And my poor friend, Tiny Tim that she is, Tiny Tim should have no cups to half cups, but not two cups. Just an observation-if you weren't aware, I am trying to come away from the 'just saying' since I say it ALL the time, but back to the cup o skittles. Damned things had me running away since I was blithering and blathering about nonsense about who knows what and I am sure that if I were 647, which I usually am, I would find me very entertaining. That may be part of it. I also felt extremely not in the mood for strip clubs and there was a rumbling in my belly.
I did say strip club, which I later found out was closed? I place a question mark there as I can not believe that a strip club would be closed as no matter the season there are always lonely or not so lonely, but pervy horny men who would much rather escape into dimmed down lights where they could, but are encouraged not to, touch the women that they will touch themselves too. They aren't on the tv which makes them much more attainable and why would someone close a place like that? Men need a get-a-way too and they don't have many men friendly spas. Just saying. I guess that guy won't go away.
Well as I was blabbering, the thought came into my head that I would much rather be in my bed than looking at tricks on a pole-hilarious since the people do tricks, but some might call them that. Funny by accident. The best way to be. So, from this realization I decided that it was time to go and so I ran. I ran home and it wasn't until this afternoon when I groggily awoke from the depths of a deep and unfulfilling sleep that I was questioned as to my whereabouts. I felt bad at first, but then when I was told that while the boys ventured into the agreed upon destination, filled with hood rats, which apparently is a difficult thing to define, the girls stayed behind and found themselves asleep in the vehicle. Who does that? I have decided that in my old age I am unhangable. I have also realized that it happens to the best of us.
Now last night, there was a topic of conversation that just could not be settled and I realize that I may also be a nasty lady (as in rude not loosely). This hood rat thing, which I find to be synonymous with a Buffalo girl. Well there was this one character there and he decided that he didn't want to agree with anything that I had to say, I think mostly for entertainment value, which I grossed at $0. Apparently we didn't agree on much. Well everyone is talking about these girls and hood rat and Buffalo girls (stereo-typically speaking) and I must admit they exist. Mid-definition which was originally playful in manner, character boy decides to let me know that aren't I a Buffalo girl being a female residing in Buffalo? Well, no. That is not what distinguishes a Buffalo girl from other females as I am clearly making a distinction that to me wasn't seemingly as simple as residency and gender.
Right, did you hear the nasty lady in there? I don't know where she comes from sometimes. I think stupid people make her think it is ok to come out and play. I should tell her otherwise.
I was then later told or rather asked why I wasn't a Buffalo girl?, because I dress a little differently and don't talk a certain way? Well, no again, not quite character boy. I wouldn't classify myself as a Buffalo girl because I am an individual, not a cookie cut out. I also am not satisfied with being pacified by the ideas that run the streets telling me that I need to act like I don't have thoughts in my head that will lead me away from the bull and down the road to success. I also don't need to take out my bamboos once a week to go whoop some other girl(or guys) ass. I also don't chew gum like it may be the last piece of gum I will ever see in my lifetime and I do have better things to do than go out and get the latest sneakers and then a matching purse, hair color, and or belt. My discussions revolve around more than how some girl was giving me the stink eye. I know that this may sound a certain way, but it isn't like that. Hard to explain.
Whatever. Going to kill myself running. I hate running. Eff.
Last night I am hanging with a new group of kids and I get super awkward in new situations. Some people find my awkward really endearing or they think that I am not so awkward and that it is super cool and other people take my awkward as jack off. I don't like the last one since I promise you I am pretty far off from a jack off (most days).
Well last night I am thrown into this new situation and I realize that I am quite opinionated and I was told that apparently I need people to do things for me aka I am a control freak and it is either my way or no way. I blame my mother for this. Because of her I think that there is only one way to do things and that one way is not only the right way, but it is also my way. Poor lady. Her new husband was driving and she says, "I wouldn't have gone this way." Translation- Why the hell did you go this way?! It is wrong. Not only was his way not the wrong way, but it was actually less out of the way than the route my mother would have taken. So not only do we think we are always right, but we are more often times not. I have found myself in similar situations. People can't even peel potatoes around me. I have issues. Admittance is the first step. I believe I am making progress.
Who invented skittles in a cup? Terrible invention. Tasty, but terrible. Shwasted and shmammered (nearly) after two cups of that. That is called a problem. Who's idea was that? And my poor friend, Tiny Tim that she is, Tiny Tim should have no cups to half cups, but not two cups. Just an observation-if you weren't aware, I am trying to come away from the 'just saying' since I say it ALL the time, but back to the cup o skittles. Damned things had me running away since I was blithering and blathering about nonsense about who knows what and I am sure that if I were 647, which I usually am, I would find me very entertaining. That may be part of it. I also felt extremely not in the mood for strip clubs and there was a rumbling in my belly.
I did say strip club, which I later found out was closed? I place a question mark there as I can not believe that a strip club would be closed as no matter the season there are always lonely or not so lonely, but pervy horny men who would much rather escape into dimmed down lights where they could, but are encouraged not to, touch the women that they will touch themselves too. They aren't on the tv which makes them much more attainable and why would someone close a place like that? Men need a get-a-way too and they don't have many men friendly spas. Just saying. I guess that guy won't go away.
Well as I was blabbering, the thought came into my head that I would much rather be in my bed than looking at tricks on a pole-hilarious since the people do tricks, but some might call them that. Funny by accident. The best way to be. So, from this realization I decided that it was time to go and so I ran. I ran home and it wasn't until this afternoon when I groggily awoke from the depths of a deep and unfulfilling sleep that I was questioned as to my whereabouts. I felt bad at first, but then when I was told that while the boys ventured into the agreed upon destination, filled with hood rats, which apparently is a difficult thing to define, the girls stayed behind and found themselves asleep in the vehicle. Who does that? I have decided that in my old age I am unhangable. I have also realized that it happens to the best of us.
Now last night, there was a topic of conversation that just could not be settled and I realize that I may also be a nasty lady (as in rude not loosely). This hood rat thing, which I find to be synonymous with a Buffalo girl. Well there was this one character there and he decided that he didn't want to agree with anything that I had to say, I think mostly for entertainment value, which I grossed at $0. Apparently we didn't agree on much. Well everyone is talking about these girls and hood rat and Buffalo girls (stereo-typically speaking) and I must admit they exist. Mid-definition which was originally playful in manner, character boy decides to let me know that aren't I a Buffalo girl being a female residing in Buffalo? Well, no. That is not what distinguishes a Buffalo girl from other females as I am clearly making a distinction that to me wasn't seemingly as simple as residency and gender.
Right, did you hear the nasty lady in there? I don't know where she comes from sometimes. I think stupid people make her think it is ok to come out and play. I should tell her otherwise.
I was then later told or rather asked why I wasn't a Buffalo girl?, because I dress a little differently and don't talk a certain way? Well, no again, not quite character boy. I wouldn't classify myself as a Buffalo girl because I am an individual, not a cookie cut out. I also am not satisfied with being pacified by the ideas that run the streets telling me that I need to act like I don't have thoughts in my head that will lead me away from the bull and down the road to success. I also don't need to take out my bamboos once a week to go whoop some other girl(or guys) ass. I also don't chew gum like it may be the last piece of gum I will ever see in my lifetime and I do have better things to do than go out and get the latest sneakers and then a matching purse, hair color, and or belt. My discussions revolve around more than how some girl was giving me the stink eye. I know that this may sound a certain way, but it isn't like that. Hard to explain.
Whatever. Going to kill myself running. I hate running. Eff.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Forest Gump
I did it. I ran. I ran yesterday for 22 minutes. That was the longest twenty-two minutes of my life. I managed to coax myself into work out clothes and then to remove myself from sitting in front of the television where I was watching Bravo. Dallas's Most Eligible was keeping me immobilized since it has such a high entertainment value. My mother is also hooked. I finally got up from the couch, stretched and ran. I told myself that when I came home that I was allowed a hearty glass of wine for my hard work. That kept me quite motivated.
So the no deodorant thing coupled with working out... Yeah, they shouldn't get together anymore. I think I may need to start wearing deodorant, which I realize that I do on ocassion as I did last night, but I clearly have this new thing where I feel that I don't need to wear under garments. Yes this includes bras. Why, I haven't reasoned yet. I think that it may have something to do with the fact that I think I never need to do laundry because I still have things to cover my body, so why layer. You don't get a show, because you just don't know. I need to stop it or I need to find my stash of hidden away panties from before I left the states.
So my friend tells me last night that she wants to go to this thing called BigAssDrinkNight-BADN. This was once a favorite of mine. Every Monday and Thursday you can walk in and get a big ass drink for, well now $6, but it used to be $5. When it was $5 it was sweet. Now it is just ok, thank God the drinks are still big. All I know is that they use the lowest of the bottom shelf liquors aka gasoline and rubbing alcohol and make a huge mason jar more than 3/4 full of that turpentine and then some other non-alcoholic stuff for coloring. I have come to realize that I am not as young as I once was and so I can do what I once did. BADN, I believe that we are no longer friends.
Well in the course of a night, I called a girl ugly numerous times, made many threats, lost a pack (full) of cigarettes, then somehow recovered them, sold a cigarette for a kiss, made wonderful gay guy friends, and made an unreported case of alcohol abuse. I watched drinks spill and shatter, I watched myself try to keep my composure, and I watched myself lose it. I wanted to be sleeping by 10 pm after that run and I didn't sleep until 3. I also had to shimmy around my house since I was locked out of it and was contemplating crawling through a window when by chance the sliding door happened to be unlocked. Sheer luck. All of this was without a bra or panties. I think I might rule.
Except that I was a half an hour late to work. How does that happen? Discussed sweaty vagina smell with my mother which is just gross and then proceeded to walk out of the door with a glass of water that has been comforting me all morning.
I was happy to see that I still had my passport and smokes in the car this morning. Oh and I have to run again this evening as I skipped this morning. Damn BADN.
So the no deodorant thing coupled with working out... Yeah, they shouldn't get together anymore. I think I may need to start wearing deodorant, which I realize that I do on ocassion as I did last night, but I clearly have this new thing where I feel that I don't need to wear under garments. Yes this includes bras. Why, I haven't reasoned yet. I think that it may have something to do with the fact that I think I never need to do laundry because I still have things to cover my body, so why layer. You don't get a show, because you just don't know. I need to stop it or I need to find my stash of hidden away panties from before I left the states.
So my friend tells me last night that she wants to go to this thing called BigAssDrinkNight-BADN. This was once a favorite of mine. Every Monday and Thursday you can walk in and get a big ass drink for, well now $6, but it used to be $5. When it was $5 it was sweet. Now it is just ok, thank God the drinks are still big. All I know is that they use the lowest of the bottom shelf liquors aka gasoline and rubbing alcohol and make a huge mason jar more than 3/4 full of that turpentine and then some other non-alcoholic stuff for coloring. I have come to realize that I am not as young as I once was and so I can do what I once did. BADN, I believe that we are no longer friends.
Well in the course of a night, I called a girl ugly numerous times, made many threats, lost a pack (full) of cigarettes, then somehow recovered them, sold a cigarette for a kiss, made wonderful gay guy friends, and made an unreported case of alcohol abuse. I watched drinks spill and shatter, I watched myself try to keep my composure, and I watched myself lose it. I wanted to be sleeping by 10 pm after that run and I didn't sleep until 3. I also had to shimmy around my house since I was locked out of it and was contemplating crawling through a window when by chance the sliding door happened to be unlocked. Sheer luck. All of this was without a bra or panties. I think I might rule.
Except that I was a half an hour late to work. How does that happen? Discussed sweaty vagina smell with my mother which is just gross and then proceeded to walk out of the door with a glass of water that has been comforting me all morning.
I was happy to see that I still had my passport and smokes in the car this morning. Oh and I have to run again this evening as I skipped this morning. Damn BADN.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Walk the Plank and Other Coming of Age Tales
They say you don't know what you have until it is gone. What if even then you don't realize? What if you let something truly amazing pass you by and you never even know? That to me sounds like a terrible scenario. What if you do realize, but you don't want that person to know that you know that they are the best thing to come into your life? What if you never let them know just how special you believe them to be and they walk? They walk away and you, you can't help but think how could they, when really, you probably made it one of the hardest/easiest things for that other person to decide. Just wondering.
Have you ever kissed someone and even though you liked them entirely much pre kiss, post left you feeling a bit deflated? A kiss can say more than any words can. Kisses are a make it or break it kind of thing. I mean I can remember there was this one time that I really liked this kid and we got along so nicely and so of course we are going to kiss and I'm in highschool so heck yeah, fast as ever, well not too fast, but kissing, yeah. So we kiss and not to say that I am a pro or anything, by no means, but this kid is knocking teeth and too much tongue, gross. Isn't it bad enough that your spit is in my mouth? Why must it also be on my face where I can tell that it is coating my skin because it is warm and drying and wet and disgusting. Yeah, no. Seriously? I can't. So needless to say I had to hightail it out of there and we were soon nothing more than friends again.
Have you ever broken up with someone and they used to do this one thing during kissing or some other intimate time and then they did something new and all you could think was, wait where did you learn this from, when they have been swearing up and down that they haven't been doing anything but sitting at home in the dark with tear stained faces lamenting over you. Right and I am the Queen of England. I had been thinking about these things, so I just thought I would share.
Now I'm not sure, but I think I have lost my funny. I think I lost it along with my drive to do anything. Remember that bit about me possibly being a sloth? Yeah, I really think it is true now. For the last three days I have been urging myself to start this running thing again, I even found myself running in the office this afternoon from my little area to the back of the building to pick up something I printed and I got a little worried because I didn't want to stop. I ran half the way back and then had to tell myself to stop, that I was wearing grown up clothes at a grown up job. That did the trick. So, this morning, like it has been for the past three mornings, my phone goes off as the first of three alarms at 6:24 am. I give myself three just in case the first is too early for me. The next alarm is set for 6:33 am and the final one is set for 6:43 am. Now, instead of letting them all play through like I did the first morning, this morning I woke to the first alarm and subsequently switched all the other alarms to a seven o'clock time instead of the six. I decided as I have been doing ever other day, that instead of running, I would rather sleep that extra hour. I am a lazy something or other. I need to get motivated. As if fitting into my clothes wasn't enough motivation or a flat stomach opposed to the muffin top. We shall see.
I also believe that I may be an alcoholic without the meetings. My coworker just came into my office and handed me a shotter of Puerto Rican Rum and then told me that she knew it would make me happy. I think there is a problem when people see alcohol as my gateway to happiness, although I would really like a nice cold beer right about now. It would make me a bit happy. Does my enjoyment of alcohol and my use of it to relax constitute itself as a problem? Or does the fact that I took the little mini shot bottle back nearly the second I realized what it was the problem? I also told my mother on my lunch break today that I wanted a glass of wine. She has scolded me time and time again on drinking on the job, even if it is on my lunch break on the job and so I retracted the statement quickly and then proceeded to walk out the door.
My mother thinks I have a problem. I think we should discuss it over drinks.
Have you ever kissed someone and even though you liked them entirely much pre kiss, post left you feeling a bit deflated? A kiss can say more than any words can. Kisses are a make it or break it kind of thing. I mean I can remember there was this one time that I really liked this kid and we got along so nicely and so of course we are going to kiss and I'm in highschool so heck yeah, fast as ever, well not too fast, but kissing, yeah. So we kiss and not to say that I am a pro or anything, by no means, but this kid is knocking teeth and too much tongue, gross. Isn't it bad enough that your spit is in my mouth? Why must it also be on my face where I can tell that it is coating my skin because it is warm and drying and wet and disgusting. Yeah, no. Seriously? I can't. So needless to say I had to hightail it out of there and we were soon nothing more than friends again.
Have you ever broken up with someone and they used to do this one thing during kissing or some other intimate time and then they did something new and all you could think was, wait where did you learn this from, when they have been swearing up and down that they haven't been doing anything but sitting at home in the dark with tear stained faces lamenting over you. Right and I am the Queen of England. I had been thinking about these things, so I just thought I would share.
Now I'm not sure, but I think I have lost my funny. I think I lost it along with my drive to do anything. Remember that bit about me possibly being a sloth? Yeah, I really think it is true now. For the last three days I have been urging myself to start this running thing again, I even found myself running in the office this afternoon from my little area to the back of the building to pick up something I printed and I got a little worried because I didn't want to stop. I ran half the way back and then had to tell myself to stop, that I was wearing grown up clothes at a grown up job. That did the trick. So, this morning, like it has been for the past three mornings, my phone goes off as the first of three alarms at 6:24 am. I give myself three just in case the first is too early for me. The next alarm is set for 6:33 am and the final one is set for 6:43 am. Now, instead of letting them all play through like I did the first morning, this morning I woke to the first alarm and subsequently switched all the other alarms to a seven o'clock time instead of the six. I decided as I have been doing ever other day, that instead of running, I would rather sleep that extra hour. I am a lazy something or other. I need to get motivated. As if fitting into my clothes wasn't enough motivation or a flat stomach opposed to the muffin top. We shall see.
I also believe that I may be an alcoholic without the meetings. My coworker just came into my office and handed me a shotter of Puerto Rican Rum and then told me that she knew it would make me happy. I think there is a problem when people see alcohol as my gateway to happiness, although I would really like a nice cold beer right about now. It would make me a bit happy. Does my enjoyment of alcohol and my use of it to relax constitute itself as a problem? Or does the fact that I took the little mini shot bottle back nearly the second I realized what it was the problem? I also told my mother on my lunch break today that I wanted a glass of wine. She has scolded me time and time again on drinking on the job, even if it is on my lunch break on the job and so I retracted the statement quickly and then proceeded to walk out the door.
My mother thinks I have a problem. I think we should discuss it over drinks.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Is it Friday Yet?
I have decided that woman was the worst invention ever. No offense God, just saying. I mean why would bleeding for 5 to 7 days have to be a requirement that women meet? Personally, the little demons that burst from their unnatural womb by using dull sporks to eat away at my inner linings and descend upon my ovaries with a voracity that is nonetheless startling, but also highly painful, that I could do without. I could also do without the bleeding in general seeing that I never pay attention to it so I never know when it is coming. Trying to play laser tag last night and next thing you know I laugh and it feels like my water is breaking. Nope, no worries, not a baby on board, just one leaving since my egg was never able to make friends. Personally, I don't think my eggs need friends. Hell they have each other and the demons that come to keep them company once every 28 days. Isn't that enough? Whatever.
So the best friend and I, we decide that even though we are alums and have other things to do with our lives, like sleep, we think that we should join the incoming freshmen of our scholarship program and play laser tag. Oh, did I also mention that it was free? Oh free how I love thee. Now when the night starts, chick is looking super sweet. hair pulled back with some out and a braid in there. I happen to notice that under that cheetah print cardigan there are Olivia Newton John black spandex leggings. So I inquire wondering who the hell she is trying to give multiplying chills to. Oh, she lets me know that we are going to play laser tag as I stand there in ballet flats, a tank and a button up denim shirt with some burgundy linen pants on. I later found that this super cool look would be my super fool look. If only I knew.
After our briefing on no running, no gum chewing, and no laying down during laser tag all I see when we walk into the game arena emerging from the smokey entrance is a vest and eyes. No body, I do see the shoes, but everything else you can't see because she is wearing all black looking like Cat Woman or Laura Croft. The chick's arms are all out, gun cocked to the side and the nickname she gives herself? Tammy Guns. Yeah, that's right. She's not running, not fast walking, she is taking her time hitting our base all day because of course we would be on opposing teams. I hit her. I did. And I laughed when I did it too. Last game of the night and we both are high score scorers!!! Whoot whoot!! She was proud of me. I had a tear in my eye. It was a good way to start the night off.
Now here comes the not so fun part. Pizza. Digiorno pizza. I like Digiornio because it isn't delivery. This was imitation Digiorno. Looked good, tasted like paper. Cardboard had too much of a flavor for this. Anyways after the one slice of pizza is through and I needed more than one-starved and I just sweated through my tank and bra ( I lost, well had to remove, my button up after round one), hence my outfit of fool, we go play some arcade games. Doing good so far except for the stupid motorcycle game that ate my tokens and wouldn't give them back no matter how many times I pushed the token slot. Stupid motorcycle game. On to air hockey. Let me tell you, one session is enough. Do not go for round two. Same thing with bowling. One game is enough because once you hit the second you begin to complain and things start to hurt. Same in air hockey. You try to hit the puck so hard, I don't know why though because you can't control it and then you are jerking your arm so fast and hard and God that thrusting motion. Thrusting hurts.
We finished air hockey and on to go kart racing. So there are words on the back of each car that say in bold letters, NO BUMPING. I also before we started being first in the starting gate, reminded everyone that there was no bumping as I hate go karts and really did not want to be bumped. Not even thirty seconds after we leave the start gate and this kid, not in the program bumps me so hard I swear I thought my head was going to roll onto the raceway. Can the kid not read? Is he also deaf? I am just wondering, because there were verbal warnings and visual aides to prevent such things. Rude. After that I distanced myself from the other racers and decided that it was a much better idea to be last place and safe. I appreciated my grandma driving. These little kids on the sideline however did not. I was constantly yelled at to use my turbo boost. I had no desire. It wasn't until the fourth race where I became competitive again and used 2 out of 3 power boosts. I still came in fourth to last place. Almost sounds like I came in fourth place the way I worded that. Clever huh?
The night ended well and then of course I find myself back here in the morning. I was late again as usual. Then I try to do some real work, some online training and I can't hear anything because everything today seems to be on max volume. My coworker is goofing off as usual doing a lot of nothing but annoying me and talking about damn sports while having the sports channel on his internet radio. I wanted to kill myself, so I began to shop for shoes. Yup, then I am into my training again and my supervisor pulls us into this impromptu meeting because she doesn't know what is going on so she brings us in there and all I am thinking is that I was actually trying to do some work and that this meeting has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with me or my coworker. Next thing I know, we are in the CEO's office. Hate my coworker. I think I am going to be fired. Just saying. I think I need to go to lunch. I feel like my water is breaking again. Damn demons.
So the best friend and I, we decide that even though we are alums and have other things to do with our lives, like sleep, we think that we should join the incoming freshmen of our scholarship program and play laser tag. Oh, did I also mention that it was free? Oh free how I love thee. Now when the night starts, chick is looking super sweet. hair pulled back with some out and a braid in there. I happen to notice that under that cheetah print cardigan there are Olivia Newton John black spandex leggings. So I inquire wondering who the hell she is trying to give multiplying chills to. Oh, she lets me know that we are going to play laser tag as I stand there in ballet flats, a tank and a button up denim shirt with some burgundy linen pants on. I later found that this super cool look would be my super fool look. If only I knew.
After our briefing on no running, no gum chewing, and no laying down during laser tag all I see when we walk into the game arena emerging from the smokey entrance is a vest and eyes. No body, I do see the shoes, but everything else you can't see because she is wearing all black looking like Cat Woman or Laura Croft. The chick's arms are all out, gun cocked to the side and the nickname she gives herself? Tammy Guns. Yeah, that's right. She's not running, not fast walking, she is taking her time hitting our base all day because of course we would be on opposing teams. I hit her. I did. And I laughed when I did it too. Last game of the night and we both are high score scorers!!! Whoot whoot!! She was proud of me. I had a tear in my eye. It was a good way to start the night off.
Now here comes the not so fun part. Pizza. Digiorno pizza. I like Digiornio because it isn't delivery. This was imitation Digiorno. Looked good, tasted like paper. Cardboard had too much of a flavor for this. Anyways after the one slice of pizza is through and I needed more than one-starved and I just sweated through my tank and bra ( I lost, well had to remove, my button up after round one), hence my outfit of fool, we go play some arcade games. Doing good so far except for the stupid motorcycle game that ate my tokens and wouldn't give them back no matter how many times I pushed the token slot. Stupid motorcycle game. On to air hockey. Let me tell you, one session is enough. Do not go for round two. Same thing with bowling. One game is enough because once you hit the second you begin to complain and things start to hurt. Same in air hockey. You try to hit the puck so hard, I don't know why though because you can't control it and then you are jerking your arm so fast and hard and God that thrusting motion. Thrusting hurts.
We finished air hockey and on to go kart racing. So there are words on the back of each car that say in bold letters, NO BUMPING. I also before we started being first in the starting gate, reminded everyone that there was no bumping as I hate go karts and really did not want to be bumped. Not even thirty seconds after we leave the start gate and this kid, not in the program bumps me so hard I swear I thought my head was going to roll onto the raceway. Can the kid not read? Is he also deaf? I am just wondering, because there were verbal warnings and visual aides to prevent such things. Rude. After that I distanced myself from the other racers and decided that it was a much better idea to be last place and safe. I appreciated my grandma driving. These little kids on the sideline however did not. I was constantly yelled at to use my turbo boost. I had no desire. It wasn't until the fourth race where I became competitive again and used 2 out of 3 power boosts. I still came in fourth to last place. Almost sounds like I came in fourth place the way I worded that. Clever huh?
The night ended well and then of course I find myself back here in the morning. I was late again as usual. Then I try to do some real work, some online training and I can't hear anything because everything today seems to be on max volume. My coworker is goofing off as usual doing a lot of nothing but annoying me and talking about damn sports while having the sports channel on his internet radio. I wanted to kill myself, so I began to shop for shoes. Yup, then I am into my training again and my supervisor pulls us into this impromptu meeting because she doesn't know what is going on so she brings us in there and all I am thinking is that I was actually trying to do some work and that this meeting has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with me or my coworker. Next thing I know, we are in the CEO's office. Hate my coworker. I think I am going to be fired. Just saying. I think I need to go to lunch. I feel like my water is breaking again. Damn demons.
Monday, August 22, 2011
We've Reached Our Expiration
Mondays. Oh how I love Mondays. Can we begin by talking about that I haven't slept since three something this morning? Yeah. Losing it.
Ok, before we get into today, let's recap the weekend beginning with Friday. Friday oh Friday. How I hate thee. Actually I am a liar, nothing big happened on Friday. Saw a long lost friend--- I must interject. I am going to be fired from my job. I know I say this nearly every time that I write, but it is true. Currently I am writing my blog like I usually do during my days at work now, except I just tested a couple of people, yes I do testing, and instead of inputting their information into the system, I am telling you about my lack luster Friday. Well, back to it. Friday, Friday was a lot of nothing. Had a girls night out for dinner. Talked about everything from the coworkers that want to eff, to the creeper, and my troubles on the forefront. The night was uneventful and I found myself sleeping by eleven. I love sleep. She is my new best friend (sorry).
Now on Friday I left work a little bit early because 1-I hate my job and 2----- Well, I guess there is no other reason, but since I had an event to do on Saturday with the creeper, I needed to pick up some fun items since we would be catering to children. I was looking for frisbees (do they exist anymore?), hula hoops-which are nearly impossible to find this time of year, and jump ropes-easily found and purchased. Now I had no knowledge that we would even be doing this event any longer as I had been trying to contact the lady in charge for over two weeks and I heard nothing until the day before at dinner with the girls. Rude. Regardless I find out Thursday that this is still happening. I am then asked by the creeper if I will be attending and since yes then had I thought of any games for the kids to do. Whoa, did you not just tell me about this now? I am wondering, because did you think of any games? Just wondering. Oh no. Oh ok. Mind you, I did already have ideas, those of which I had expressed when first partnering for the event, so what do you mean and yes clearly of course. I am always prepared.
Well, I thought I was leaving work early to also retrieve the fun items. It didn't work out that way and so Saturday morning I am running around all of Niagara Falls searching for hula hoops and frisbees--I purchased the jump ropes the night before. All I can think while on this wild goose chase (with a nice little break to TJ Maxx for some much needed retail therapy) is that I feel disgusted that things are always turning out this way and falling on me. I need people to stop looking at me as the go to savior lady. I can't always save the day. I'm sorry, but it is true. I have come to realize that I am happy that I do not have a pistol permit in addition to a pistol. I may have to go to jail for shooting someone. I don't think they would go too easy on me. Plus, I don't think that I would fair well in the prison system. Also, just as a side note, I think I have HIV/AIDS all the time. I want to test myself like every month. And I don't even do anything! My job has made me quite paranoid. I may have to find a new one. Oh right, and I took a test on Friday.
So Saturday comes. Saturday was a shit show. Yes. A shit show. I go to the event in Niagara Falls, feeling uncomfortable the entire time and wondering why on earth I needed to really be there in the first place. We did not need two people and I did not need to give the tolls one and a half American dollars (one half was part Canadian). Ok, kicker from the event, the creeper decided to make an inappropriate joke. Don't. I hate inappropriate jokes. Especially from creepers. This little girl no older than ten places a pair of handcuffs on our table while she blows bubbles(my substitute for the frisbees) and then leaves, without the handcuffs. Too much excitement, which is understandable seeing that there was a police dog demonstration going on aka the officer was having his arm being bitten by a killer dog. And then people wonder why no one likes German Shepherds. Just saying. But, back to the story. So creeper sees the cuffs and comments to the effect that isn't the girl too young to have those. Whoa. Whoa. Did you really just make that comment? Gross aka you are such a creep. So a few minutes pass and I am talking to people at the table, creeper is about to leave and I go to move the cuffs onto one of the chairs that happens to have my phone and sunglasses on it and creeper, thinking he is so funny says, "Got plans for them for later?" Har har. Very unfunny and inappropriate and I am pretty sure that I will not be the only one searching for a new job. Again, just saying.
Fast forward to Saturday night. Head to a friend's house which was pleasantly empty at first, I must say I am not the best of company or entertainment, but I rarely get to see this friend alone so it was kinda really nice. I then proceeded to drink (my life away) which is what we tend to do. More people showed up and we are playing card games. Doing good so far except that the first food that I had eaten that entire day was barely digested in my stomach as I was chewing and drinking simultaneously. Not a good look. I continue to be picked on and given drinks. Dunzo. Yeah. Not a good look. The rest of the night just goes down hill from there. I think I lost two friends aka I am a jack off. One stormed away, right when I was getting to a good place and the other sent me a text the next day saying that I was mean and drunk. Drunk yes, mean I try not to be.
Sunday I recapped my Saturday night with my best friend, not sleep, and hung my head in shame a little, then I tried to move on (I still feel bad) and tried to feel better. I looked crazy for half the day. Bought some more clothes and food for my cat. Poor thing didn't have food for an entire day, so she got treats too. I also paid for breakfast which made me feel like such a big girl. Too nice. I then decided that I needed to work out because even though my butt has gotten bigger, I need the girl to perk up. I have also come to realize that my boobs are HUGE. They need to stop growing. Going running tomorrow morning. Mom said she was going to be my work out buddy. Looking forward to that.
So today. Today I look great, feel enh, and am ready to leave. Gonna take a late lunch. Going to lazertron tonight. Oh yeah!! I suck at that guy, but hey, maybe I will be a quick learner. Another gross thing, my outfit today is sick, well not sick, but I really like it and so I needed some flats to wear with it (only thing that would look right) and the only pair of black pointy tipped black flats that I have are so old and worn and weathered and gross aka they smell so bad!!! I swear I could kill people with the way these shoes smell. After today I may need to give them up aka throw them out.
Glad our computers are working again. Now if only my phone would get on board. I thought the Verizon strike was over because I am tired of my phone going in and out of 3G service aka no internet for me and how on earth does it say that my current location is Laluenga which is a municipality located in the province of Huesca which is part of Aragon aka Spain. If only.
I should also point out now that I am weak and so yes I gave in. Oh right. Other epic part about Saturday night. I'm a wreck. I think it is time for my silent retreat.
Ok, before we get into today, let's recap the weekend beginning with Friday. Friday oh Friday. How I hate thee. Actually I am a liar, nothing big happened on Friday. Saw a long lost friend--- I must interject. I am going to be fired from my job. I know I say this nearly every time that I write, but it is true. Currently I am writing my blog like I usually do during my days at work now, except I just tested a couple of people, yes I do testing, and instead of inputting their information into the system, I am telling you about my lack luster Friday. Well, back to it. Friday, Friday was a lot of nothing. Had a girls night out for dinner. Talked about everything from the coworkers that want to eff, to the creeper, and my troubles on the forefront. The night was uneventful and I found myself sleeping by eleven. I love sleep. She is my new best friend (sorry).
Now on Friday I left work a little bit early because 1-I hate my job and 2----- Well, I guess there is no other reason, but since I had an event to do on Saturday with the creeper, I needed to pick up some fun items since we would be catering to children. I was looking for frisbees (do they exist anymore?), hula hoops-which are nearly impossible to find this time of year, and jump ropes-easily found and purchased. Now I had no knowledge that we would even be doing this event any longer as I had been trying to contact the lady in charge for over two weeks and I heard nothing until the day before at dinner with the girls. Rude. Regardless I find out Thursday that this is still happening. I am then asked by the creeper if I will be attending and since yes then had I thought of any games for the kids to do. Whoa, did you not just tell me about this now? I am wondering, because did you think of any games? Just wondering. Oh no. Oh ok. Mind you, I did already have ideas, those of which I had expressed when first partnering for the event, so what do you mean and yes clearly of course. I am always prepared.
Well, I thought I was leaving work early to also retrieve the fun items. It didn't work out that way and so Saturday morning I am running around all of Niagara Falls searching for hula hoops and frisbees--I purchased the jump ropes the night before. All I can think while on this wild goose chase (with a nice little break to TJ Maxx for some much needed retail therapy) is that I feel disgusted that things are always turning out this way and falling on me. I need people to stop looking at me as the go to savior lady. I can't always save the day. I'm sorry, but it is true. I have come to realize that I am happy that I do not have a pistol permit in addition to a pistol. I may have to go to jail for shooting someone. I don't think they would go too easy on me. Plus, I don't think that I would fair well in the prison system. Also, just as a side note, I think I have HIV/AIDS all the time. I want to test myself like every month. And I don't even do anything! My job has made me quite paranoid. I may have to find a new one. Oh right, and I took a test on Friday.
So Saturday comes. Saturday was a shit show. Yes. A shit show. I go to the event in Niagara Falls, feeling uncomfortable the entire time and wondering why on earth I needed to really be there in the first place. We did not need two people and I did not need to give the tolls one and a half American dollars (one half was part Canadian). Ok, kicker from the event, the creeper decided to make an inappropriate joke. Don't. I hate inappropriate jokes. Especially from creepers. This little girl no older than ten places a pair of handcuffs on our table while she blows bubbles(my substitute for the frisbees) and then leaves, without the handcuffs. Too much excitement, which is understandable seeing that there was a police dog demonstration going on aka the officer was having his arm being bitten by a killer dog. And then people wonder why no one likes German Shepherds. Just saying. But, back to the story. So creeper sees the cuffs and comments to the effect that isn't the girl too young to have those. Whoa. Whoa. Did you really just make that comment? Gross aka you are such a creep. So a few minutes pass and I am talking to people at the table, creeper is about to leave and I go to move the cuffs onto one of the chairs that happens to have my phone and sunglasses on it and creeper, thinking he is so funny says, "Got plans for them for later?" Har har. Very unfunny and inappropriate and I am pretty sure that I will not be the only one searching for a new job. Again, just saying.
Fast forward to Saturday night. Head to a friend's house which was pleasantly empty at first, I must say I am not the best of company or entertainment, but I rarely get to see this friend alone so it was kinda really nice. I then proceeded to drink (my life away) which is what we tend to do. More people showed up and we are playing card games. Doing good so far except that the first food that I had eaten that entire day was barely digested in my stomach as I was chewing and drinking simultaneously. Not a good look. I continue to be picked on and given drinks. Dunzo. Yeah. Not a good look. The rest of the night just goes down hill from there. I think I lost two friends aka I am a jack off. One stormed away, right when I was getting to a good place and the other sent me a text the next day saying that I was mean and drunk. Drunk yes, mean I try not to be.
Sunday I recapped my Saturday night with my best friend, not sleep, and hung my head in shame a little, then I tried to move on (I still feel bad) and tried to feel better. I looked crazy for half the day. Bought some more clothes and food for my cat. Poor thing didn't have food for an entire day, so she got treats too. I also paid for breakfast which made me feel like such a big girl. Too nice. I then decided that I needed to work out because even though my butt has gotten bigger, I need the girl to perk up. I have also come to realize that my boobs are HUGE. They need to stop growing. Going running tomorrow morning. Mom said she was going to be my work out buddy. Looking forward to that.
So today. Today I look great, feel enh, and am ready to leave. Gonna take a late lunch. Going to lazertron tonight. Oh yeah!! I suck at that guy, but hey, maybe I will be a quick learner. Another gross thing, my outfit today is sick, well not sick, but I really like it and so I needed some flats to wear with it (only thing that would look right) and the only pair of black pointy tipped black flats that I have are so old and worn and weathered and gross aka they smell so bad!!! I swear I could kill people with the way these shoes smell. After today I may need to give them up aka throw them out.
Glad our computers are working again. Now if only my phone would get on board. I thought the Verizon strike was over because I am tired of my phone going in and out of 3G service aka no internet for me and how on earth does it say that my current location is Laluenga which is a municipality located in the province of Huesca which is part of Aragon aka Spain. If only.
I should also point out now that I am weak and so yes I gave in. Oh right. Other epic part about Saturday night. I'm a wreck. I think it is time for my silent retreat.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Working Together
So yesterday morning I have to be to work at 8:30 a.m. for an inservice meeting. People? I am always late to work. It does not matter what time I wake up. It does not matter what I do. I am always late. Not even just to work. To life. I will be late to my own funeral. Something will happen where the hearse with my body does not show up on time because that is just the way things work for me. I am never on time to a damn thing. My friends secretly and sometimes not so secretly hate me for this. I sometimes secretly hate myself for it too, but most times I think it is an uncanny ability. Like a hidden talent. Yeah... a hidden talent. I mean, I feel that somebody has to be quite gifted to be late the way I consistently am. Consistently.
Well so I walk into the meeting about 7-9 minutes late. No one really says anything. A couple looks, but nothing big and I am lugging this tote that after about fifteen minutes of listening to nothing, I leave to bring into my office. I return only to leave about 15 minutes later so that I can check my emails, make a quick call and return to the meeting again. This return only has me sitting there on my cellular device responding to texts and checking facebook.
I have to get up again. This time I find myself in the hall and about five minutes after I have been out there, a nurse comes rushing out of the room exclaiming that she has got to go to the bathroom and she is looking entirely distressed. Whoa. I couldn't help but laugh, and I am tired. Yes, of course I am going to laugh. A few minutes later, maybe two or three all you hear from the bathroom, which is right next to the room where the meeting was, is spffff spfffffff spffff. This would be the sound of a can of air freshener being used. I almost lost it. After you hear the water shut off and she emerges from the lavatory, she mumble under her breath coupled with a sigh of relief, "That feels better." She said it so matter of factly and with such a sense of relief, I knew that I was about to lose it in her face if I did not look away. That is the key. To not laugh at someone in their face you either 1-look away and hold that sucker in or, and I usually take this route, 2-remove yourself from the situation so you can let that sucker out. Sitting suckers just get sticky and messy. I would rather release myself from that possible embarrassment.
Yesterday I was at a friend's house and watched Law and Order for the first time. I couldn't stop laughing and criticizing the way that things just fell so neatly into the detective's laps. It was quite hilarious. I am also very confused by people. Have you ever had someone who you were laughing with all night and then you say one thing and they go stone face on you like they can't believe you would try to make a funny? That happened to me last night, except I didn't feel bad and retreat into a shell, I just began to laugh harder because I was in such disbelief at the stink eye that was handed to me.
Well it was time to leave and so I get into my vehicle, tired as ever and I am singing along to the radio when all of a sudden I feel this feeling on my inner thigh. That feeling was a spider. As I go to make the 'feeling' stop I feel in the cup of my hand a creature with a number of legs and he is scooped to the floor as the stopping motion picks up in speed once my brain registers the 'feeling' as more than just a feeling. I had my thigh lifted in the air for the next six minutes which felt like the longest six minutes of my natural life.
Anyways, today I had a presentation to do at my old school encouraging students to study abroad. Cake walk, mostly since it was an enjoyable topic to talk about and also because one of the girls that I was working with is an absolute angel. I swear. God sent her from above because she basically did everything. I mean everything. Love her. But, that was fun, I didn't have to do much of anything.
So again I am at work today and I feel that I don't want to be. It is nearly 3:30 and I am ready to go. I will not be able to until the earliest four thirty. I thought I had so much more to say but clearly not. Maybe I shall have to resume this at a later date. Hmmm... Nope. Got nothing. Oh, no I do.
So on Tuesday, I have an educational piece to do for a group of about thirty in a rehab clinic. The topic was HIV and AIDS, yes I am the HIV educator, so yes it would make sense that I would have this be something that I do. I am not sure if you know me, but let me tell you, I hate talking in front of people. Some of you may find this difficult to believe, but nonetheless it is true. The day before when I found out that I had to do this presentation, I was freaking out. Heart palpitations all over the place. I woke up that day having a knot in my stomach in five minutes before the actual moment of doom, I not only thought I was going to throw up, but I also wanted to. When you feel like you have to, doing it always makes you feel better. Just saying. Needless to say, I did not throw up even though the desire was there. I did however sweat profusely, which is a problem at times since I frequently forget to apply deodorant to my underarms. Why you ask? Don't because I don't know why. When I start smelling then I will start wearing the stuff, until then I will just sweat at these occasions and fear that I may begin to smell.
I realize that I do a lot of weird and gross things. When the laundry starts to pile up, but I still have clothes to wear, I will run out of underwear thus forcing me to either go commando or do my laundry. My thinking is that since I still have clothes to wear, the laundry doesn't really need to be done. I know when I am reaching that fork in the road of panties or no panties when I begin wearing thongs. Thongs are the panties of last resort. Unless I am trying to-ahem-look sexy for a designated amount of time, I do not wear them. They suck. They make me feel as if I have a constant wedgie and my hand is time and time again finding its way to the back of my pants relieving the tension between my butt cheeks and the dental floss that has found itself lodged in between them. Thongs were the invention of a devil man. Devil. He was angry at his girlfriend. Just saying.
Yes, I do a plenty of things wrong. I over eat, hence the mom comments, I over shop--- Ooh, but today I found myself in a pair of cute little booties all for twenty bucks. I am on a shopping kick and I get paid tomorrow? Oh yeah. Excited about that. Hoping to find some good stuff. Ok. I need to get back to work now. Since I have been doing none of it all day. None. Yes none. Ok. I go now, the creeper is here and I want to be away from him. Oh God, blog world doesn't know about the creeper.
The creeper has kids in college, is crossing his legs in front of me while rubbing his hands together like an evil villain and he looks at people like he wants to put them inside of his stomach. Gross. He is so damn creepy. "Let me show you the eateries." Maybe I am just not used to chivalry, but in this situation I feel as if it is not necessary so if he holds another door open for me and stares at my chest once more, I feel that I may scream while opening the car door to sustain injuries that will place me in the hospital, far far away from him. What a creep. Yuck.
Ok, now I go.
Well so I walk into the meeting about 7-9 minutes late. No one really says anything. A couple looks, but nothing big and I am lugging this tote that after about fifteen minutes of listening to nothing, I leave to bring into my office. I return only to leave about 15 minutes later so that I can check my emails, make a quick call and return to the meeting again. This return only has me sitting there on my cellular device responding to texts and checking facebook.
I have to get up again. This time I find myself in the hall and about five minutes after I have been out there, a nurse comes rushing out of the room exclaiming that she has got to go to the bathroom and she is looking entirely distressed. Whoa. I couldn't help but laugh, and I am tired. Yes, of course I am going to laugh. A few minutes later, maybe two or three all you hear from the bathroom, which is right next to the room where the meeting was, is spffff spfffffff spffff. This would be the sound of a can of air freshener being used. I almost lost it. After you hear the water shut off and she emerges from the lavatory, she mumble under her breath coupled with a sigh of relief, "That feels better." She said it so matter of factly and with such a sense of relief, I knew that I was about to lose it in her face if I did not look away. That is the key. To not laugh at someone in their face you either 1-look away and hold that sucker in or, and I usually take this route, 2-remove yourself from the situation so you can let that sucker out. Sitting suckers just get sticky and messy. I would rather release myself from that possible embarrassment.
Yesterday I was at a friend's house and watched Law and Order for the first time. I couldn't stop laughing and criticizing the way that things just fell so neatly into the detective's laps. It was quite hilarious. I am also very confused by people. Have you ever had someone who you were laughing with all night and then you say one thing and they go stone face on you like they can't believe you would try to make a funny? That happened to me last night, except I didn't feel bad and retreat into a shell, I just began to laugh harder because I was in such disbelief at the stink eye that was handed to me.
Well it was time to leave and so I get into my vehicle, tired as ever and I am singing along to the radio when all of a sudden I feel this feeling on my inner thigh. That feeling was a spider. As I go to make the 'feeling' stop I feel in the cup of my hand a creature with a number of legs and he is scooped to the floor as the stopping motion picks up in speed once my brain registers the 'feeling' as more than just a feeling. I had my thigh lifted in the air for the next six minutes which felt like the longest six minutes of my natural life.
Anyways, today I had a presentation to do at my old school encouraging students to study abroad. Cake walk, mostly since it was an enjoyable topic to talk about and also because one of the girls that I was working with is an absolute angel. I swear. God sent her from above because she basically did everything. I mean everything. Love her. But, that was fun, I didn't have to do much of anything.
So again I am at work today and I feel that I don't want to be. It is nearly 3:30 and I am ready to go. I will not be able to until the earliest four thirty. I thought I had so much more to say but clearly not. Maybe I shall have to resume this at a later date. Hmmm... Nope. Got nothing. Oh, no I do.
So on Tuesday, I have an educational piece to do for a group of about thirty in a rehab clinic. The topic was HIV and AIDS, yes I am the HIV educator, so yes it would make sense that I would have this be something that I do. I am not sure if you know me, but let me tell you, I hate talking in front of people. Some of you may find this difficult to believe, but nonetheless it is true. The day before when I found out that I had to do this presentation, I was freaking out. Heart palpitations all over the place. I woke up that day having a knot in my stomach in five minutes before the actual moment of doom, I not only thought I was going to throw up, but I also wanted to. When you feel like you have to, doing it always makes you feel better. Just saying. Needless to say, I did not throw up even though the desire was there. I did however sweat profusely, which is a problem at times since I frequently forget to apply deodorant to my underarms. Why you ask? Don't because I don't know why. When I start smelling then I will start wearing the stuff, until then I will just sweat at these occasions and fear that I may begin to smell.
I realize that I do a lot of weird and gross things. When the laundry starts to pile up, but I still have clothes to wear, I will run out of underwear thus forcing me to either go commando or do my laundry. My thinking is that since I still have clothes to wear, the laundry doesn't really need to be done. I know when I am reaching that fork in the road of panties or no panties when I begin wearing thongs. Thongs are the panties of last resort. Unless I am trying to-ahem-look sexy for a designated amount of time, I do not wear them. They suck. They make me feel as if I have a constant wedgie and my hand is time and time again finding its way to the back of my pants relieving the tension between my butt cheeks and the dental floss that has found itself lodged in between them. Thongs were the invention of a devil man. Devil. He was angry at his girlfriend. Just saying.
Yes, I do a plenty of things wrong. I over eat, hence the mom comments, I over shop--- Ooh, but today I found myself in a pair of cute little booties all for twenty bucks. I am on a shopping kick and I get paid tomorrow? Oh yeah. Excited about that. Hoping to find some good stuff. Ok. I need to get back to work now. Since I have been doing none of it all day. None. Yes none. Ok. I go now, the creeper is here and I want to be away from him. Oh God, blog world doesn't know about the creeper.
The creeper has kids in college, is crossing his legs in front of me while rubbing his hands together like an evil villain and he looks at people like he wants to put them inside of his stomach. Gross. He is so damn creepy. "Let me show you the eateries." Maybe I am just not used to chivalry, but in this situation I feel as if it is not necessary so if he holds another door open for me and stares at my chest once more, I feel that I may scream while opening the car door to sustain injuries that will place me in the hospital, far far away from him. What a creep. Yuck.
Ok, now I go.
Friday, August 12, 2011
World, Stop Spinning. Please?
Car accidents. Who really gets into car accidents? I blame 647. If it hadn't been for 647 and a dead phone brought back from the dead, then my attention would not have been on trying to interpret the coded, cryptic, confusing text of a message that was not just one, but four 160 characters long. If not for 647, I would have noticed that the car in front of me was no longer moving and that I should not be then too. If not for 647, I wouldn't feel then, as I do now, as if there was a foreign invader in my stomach running around as if there was a hamster wheel attached to my inner lining. That feeling now may also be in part to the fact that I haven't eaten anything since 8 or 9 last night. I did although, have a satisfying fag this morning (I have always wanted to say that).
Needless to say, there is part of my license plate holder somewhere in a garbage can in the depths of South Buffalo and the impression of my license plate along with a piece of my front bumper straggling along on the back side of a yellow Ford Focus. It's a shame to see such Ford on Ford violence. And the real kicker, the mother just drove off. Now I understand we were on the on ramp of a highway, and that the damage was minimal, but golly, were you drinking? Do you not have a valid license? Do you not have insurance? The last is a bit irrelevant seeing that it was entirely my fault, but really? They have shoulders for a reason. Please people, let us learn to utilize things that have been put in place for such occasions.
On another note, I happen to find myself waking in the middle of the night all the time. People continuously try to diagnose this odd occurrence and I must say, stop (in the nicest way). I understand the limits to my condition and the onset. Soon enough I will sleep and things will be merry once more. Moreover, I usually fall back to sleep within a half hours time. No big. Although my sleep disruption may contribute to my slothlikeness during the day time hours. I have lately been told that I and I quote, "... suck bawls." Yes. I thought those days were long gone and behind me, but I see they will not let me be.
I have transformed into a state of grandmotherly-ness without the sweetness and sorry, no cookies and this has not been by right or birth seeing that I do not even possess the title of being in the state of motherhood, but it is true and I have been scorned and ostracized being flung from my party circle with a duntz cap on for former funly turned lame. I admit it!! I am what I loathe!! I am a LAME! Well, that felt much better than I thought it would. Wow, actually I feel a lot better. So what if I am a lame? I am the coolest lame you will ever meet. Maybe you are too willy nilly. Huh? Ever thought about that? Well I did and I am tired, so I will sleep. It is good for my mental health and so I do not find myself in a state of psychosis, I think it is needed and beneficial for all. Rather a sane lame than a loony roonie.
Yeah, clearly I just wanted that to rhyme. Right. I think it may be time for me to put the blog down and considering that today is kind of humdrum so far, I think I may be taking an early break. I feel that maybe I need to relax and read a few pages out of a book and be out in the sun. Maybe I will get my work done first and then take an early break. Either way I need to occupy myself. Or I suppose I could work until 12 and then take an early break. I do have plenty to keep me busy until then. Well no. I will take a quick fifteen minute. Go clear my head, now that 647 is walking around again. Bollocks.
Needless to say, there is part of my license plate holder somewhere in a garbage can in the depths of South Buffalo and the impression of my license plate along with a piece of my front bumper straggling along on the back side of a yellow Ford Focus. It's a shame to see such Ford on Ford violence. And the real kicker, the mother just drove off. Now I understand we were on the on ramp of a highway, and that the damage was minimal, but golly, were you drinking? Do you not have a valid license? Do you not have insurance? The last is a bit irrelevant seeing that it was entirely my fault, but really? They have shoulders for a reason. Please people, let us learn to utilize things that have been put in place for such occasions.
On another note, I happen to find myself waking in the middle of the night all the time. People continuously try to diagnose this odd occurrence and I must say, stop (in the nicest way). I understand the limits to my condition and the onset. Soon enough I will sleep and things will be merry once more. Moreover, I usually fall back to sleep within a half hours time. No big. Although my sleep disruption may contribute to my slothlikeness during the day time hours. I have lately been told that I and I quote, "... suck bawls." Yes. I thought those days were long gone and behind me, but I see they will not let me be.
I have transformed into a state of grandmotherly-ness without the sweetness and sorry, no cookies and this has not been by right or birth seeing that I do not even possess the title of being in the state of motherhood, but it is true and I have been scorned and ostracized being flung from my party circle with a duntz cap on for former funly turned lame. I admit it!! I am what I loathe!! I am a LAME! Well, that felt much better than I thought it would. Wow, actually I feel a lot better. So what if I am a lame? I am the coolest lame you will ever meet. Maybe you are too willy nilly. Huh? Ever thought about that? Well I did and I am tired, so I will sleep. It is good for my mental health and so I do not find myself in a state of psychosis, I think it is needed and beneficial for all. Rather a sane lame than a loony roonie.
Yeah, clearly I just wanted that to rhyme. Right. I think it may be time for me to put the blog down and considering that today is kind of humdrum so far, I think I may be taking an early break. I feel that maybe I need to relax and read a few pages out of a book and be out in the sun. Maybe I will get my work done first and then take an early break. Either way I need to occupy myself. Or I suppose I could work until 12 and then take an early break. I do have plenty to keep me busy until then. Well no. I will take a quick fifteen minute. Go clear my head, now that 647 is walking around again. Bollocks.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
On My Knees
By 8:38 this morning, I was on my knees in the parking lot of a gas station. No it wasn't anyone's lucky day, but I had found myself locked out of my car. Yup, keys left right in the ignition staring at me from behind locked doors. I was left with a few options, the best landing me on my knees on the oil stained pavement of the gas station with my panties flagging people down and my eyes darting away from the concerned eyes. I was on my knees because thank the heavens my step-father placed a spare key on the under carriage of my vehicle so my moments of shame were just that, mere moments.
After that ordeal I am in my final day of my mental health training. Things are not much different from yesterday seeing that the woman is still as stupid sounding as before and spliff lady? Yup, looks like she had about 8 before she walked in here this morning. Get some rest. Seriously.
Oh and I think I have borderline personality disorder. Fun.
Interesting Fact(so far at least)-
The number one ethical violation in counseling and therapy is sleeping with the patient.
Figures.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Powers of Cognition
I've come to a lot of realizations today.
1. I love being outside of the office. It greatly improves my mood.
2. I know more than I think I do which is actually more than the average bear.
3. I am easily irritated.
4. In accordance with 2., people = stupid.
5. I have a low attention span.
Oh right and this may be the most important of all(although the list does continue)-
6. I am no longer allowed to watch love sappy movies. They are ruining my life.
Now it is time for me to tell you how I came about these wonderful realizations. I wasn't in the office today due to training at the Red Cross. SCORE!! I was in the best mood ever today. On my lunch I had to go to work and brag because I did something amazing without even realizing how amazing it was and as it was work related and I felt like a manic-depressant, which I must confess I know would now be diagnosed as having bi-polar disorder, I felt the utter urge to traipse into that wonderful place I would like to call my home away from home and share my good mood and good news.
As I was smiling, everyone was concerned. Not because I in-particular was smiling, but because it was too much happy for anyone to handle, especially after lunch time. I think that happiness makes people nervous sometimes. You may as well be talking to yourself on a street corner. "Oh my... That women said hello to me! What ever is the matter with her? Poor dear. She must have the happies. Tsk Tsk." I imagine it goes something like that. You don't see many happy people nowadays let alone a smile. But, I digress, that is beside the point. The point is I was in a good mood due to being outside of the office and because of my awesomeness which provided me with bragging rights which will be lasting me the remainder of the week and extending to a partial duration of the next as well.
Now this training was a real eye opener and not necessarily on the topic being presented because although I learned, well was refreshed of the many mental illnesses that are out on the market today, that wasn't what kept my interest. What kept me awake, surprisingly enough was those falling asleep around me and the idiot things that people say and the seeming lack of knowledge they possess. It's like a hidden wart, that isn't really so hidden and yes, I am repulsed. Go freeze it off. By all means, you should really talk to a doctor about that. Needless to say, it was a rough day.
Basically today was a big day for me to learn about myself. I found myself judging a woman across from me who I had assumed to be an educated black woman, until of course she opened her mouth and compelled me to change my mind with her slow speech and struggle for words that ended up stringing themselves along in forms of "they was" and "preach teachah." I felt that if she asked another question or tried to do another funny, that I might have to resign from my seat of silent staring and take a walk to high five her face. It was the least I could do.
In the middle of being lectured I found myself doing kegels. Yes I was kegeling. I'm sure you're jealous or doing them right now as you read this. One of the two, but there I was front row as my younger years have taught me, straight backed and counting reps of ten kegels. I heard not a word my presenter said for those 6-8 minutes. I had to focus on my muscle control. Who does that?!
Before I began the kegels, and so I blame my thighs or my toes, whichever is up for the brunt of shame, I was trying to contain my fidgety ways by crossing my legs and delicately placing my hands about my knees in a very professional lady like manner. I soon realized that I can no longer cross my legs for extended periods of time as the weight of my thighs has exceeded the desired weight for resting upon one another. It was much too overwhelming and so my toes even protested by falling asleep. As I write this my toes are again off to dreamland as I foolishly haven't learned a thing. Just a fleeting realization that results in the most unpleasant tingling sensation. I must uncross now though, as my knee is also beginning to snooze. Stupid thighs.
At one point I thought that today was the BEST DAY EVER, feeling quite inspired being in a lecture and wanting to go back to school and feeling that I had such good things to say in today's blog, I clearly have forgotten them all, that I was racing home to compile this bit together. This balloon was successfully deflated once I returned from lunch where it appeared that everyone had the 'itis.' I laughed at the girl across from me as her head lolled back and forth and her eyes appeared as if she had been smoking marijuana with no ventilation for a month straight. No breaks. Yup, that's what she looked like. Her colleague came quickly into a second place in the race for who can hit the table first as he began to put his feet on his chair, bringing his knees to his chin and resting his cheek there with eyes closed. I'm sorry, how old are we? Oh right. I was the youngest. Everyone else was late twenties, early thirties young and everyone else was just old(er).
I'm not sure, but I think I am kind of a big deal. I mean so people may look at it as an issue, but hey I don't pay attention in training, I may be really quite uncomfortably close to being fired from my job, I mean what else can I get away with? I think I may try for not reading like back in the old days of college. Oh, right. I have homework from the training I didn't pay attention to, but right now, I would rather sleep. So I think I might do that, but only after this-
Interesting Fact
Many infections can not pass through the blood-brain (yes I said blood-brain) barrier, leaving your brain safe and intact while your body fights a raging war. HIV can.
Yes, my title is HIV Educator. I am filled with interesting facts. Time to learn more so that I can educate the masses.
Hmmmm, so I know on some level this is such a stupid thing to think and ask, but why can't the educator already be inherently learned? Why must the teacher learn if he must also teach? The teachee has it good, all they have to do is learn. Slacker.
1. I love being outside of the office. It greatly improves my mood.
2. I know more than I think I do which is actually more than the average bear.
3. I am easily irritated.
4. In accordance with 2., people = stupid.
5. I have a low attention span.
Oh right and this may be the most important of all(although the list does continue)-
6. I am no longer allowed to watch love sappy movies. They are ruining my life.
Now it is time for me to tell you how I came about these wonderful realizations. I wasn't in the office today due to training at the Red Cross. SCORE!! I was in the best mood ever today. On my lunch I had to go to work and brag because I did something amazing without even realizing how amazing it was and as it was work related and I felt like a manic-depressant, which I must confess I know would now be diagnosed as having bi-polar disorder, I felt the utter urge to traipse into that wonderful place I would like to call my home away from home and share my good mood and good news.
As I was smiling, everyone was concerned. Not because I in-particular was smiling, but because it was too much happy for anyone to handle, especially after lunch time. I think that happiness makes people nervous sometimes. You may as well be talking to yourself on a street corner. "Oh my... That women said hello to me! What ever is the matter with her? Poor dear. She must have the happies. Tsk Tsk." I imagine it goes something like that. You don't see many happy people nowadays let alone a smile. But, I digress, that is beside the point. The point is I was in a good mood due to being outside of the office and because of my awesomeness which provided me with bragging rights which will be lasting me the remainder of the week and extending to a partial duration of the next as well.
Now this training was a real eye opener and not necessarily on the topic being presented because although I learned, well was refreshed of the many mental illnesses that are out on the market today, that wasn't what kept my interest. What kept me awake, surprisingly enough was those falling asleep around me and the idiot things that people say and the seeming lack of knowledge they possess. It's like a hidden wart, that isn't really so hidden and yes, I am repulsed. Go freeze it off. By all means, you should really talk to a doctor about that. Needless to say, it was a rough day.
Basically today was a big day for me to learn about myself. I found myself judging a woman across from me who I had assumed to be an educated black woman, until of course she opened her mouth and compelled me to change my mind with her slow speech and struggle for words that ended up stringing themselves along in forms of "they was" and "preach teachah." I felt that if she asked another question or tried to do another funny, that I might have to resign from my seat of silent staring and take a walk to high five her face. It was the least I could do.
In the middle of being lectured I found myself doing kegels. Yes I was kegeling. I'm sure you're jealous or doing them right now as you read this. One of the two, but there I was front row as my younger years have taught me, straight backed and counting reps of ten kegels. I heard not a word my presenter said for those 6-8 minutes. I had to focus on my muscle control. Who does that?!
Before I began the kegels, and so I blame my thighs or my toes, whichever is up for the brunt of shame, I was trying to contain my fidgety ways by crossing my legs and delicately placing my hands about my knees in a very professional lady like manner. I soon realized that I can no longer cross my legs for extended periods of time as the weight of my thighs has exceeded the desired weight for resting upon one another. It was much too overwhelming and so my toes even protested by falling asleep. As I write this my toes are again off to dreamland as I foolishly haven't learned a thing. Just a fleeting realization that results in the most unpleasant tingling sensation. I must uncross now though, as my knee is also beginning to snooze. Stupid thighs.
At one point I thought that today was the BEST DAY EVER, feeling quite inspired being in a lecture and wanting to go back to school and feeling that I had such good things to say in today's blog, I clearly have forgotten them all, that I was racing home to compile this bit together. This balloon was successfully deflated once I returned from lunch where it appeared that everyone had the 'itis.' I laughed at the girl across from me as her head lolled back and forth and her eyes appeared as if she had been smoking marijuana with no ventilation for a month straight. No breaks. Yup, that's what she looked like. Her colleague came quickly into a second place in the race for who can hit the table first as he began to put his feet on his chair, bringing his knees to his chin and resting his cheek there with eyes closed. I'm sorry, how old are we? Oh right. I was the youngest. Everyone else was late twenties, early thirties young and everyone else was just old(er).
I'm not sure, but I think I am kind of a big deal. I mean so people may look at it as an issue, but hey I don't pay attention in training, I may be really quite uncomfortably close to being fired from my job, I mean what else can I get away with? I think I may try for not reading like back in the old days of college. Oh, right. I have homework from the training I didn't pay attention to, but right now, I would rather sleep. So I think I might do that, but only after this-
Interesting Fact
Many infections can not pass through the blood-brain (yes I said blood-brain) barrier, leaving your brain safe and intact while your body fights a raging war. HIV can.
Yes, my title is HIV Educator. I am filled with interesting facts. Time to learn more so that I can educate the masses.
Hmmmm, so I know on some level this is such a stupid thing to think and ask, but why can't the educator already be inherently learned? Why must the teacher learn if he must also teach? The teachee has it good, all they have to do is learn. Slacker.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Right, on to more of real life.
So, I've never done a blog before and as a result of it I may get something like fired seeing that I want to tell about my day today. I am currently at work. I was a moment before (more like many many moments before as I have been back at work for an hour now) not at work.
I have never had this feeling before. I have never been in such a state of disarray. I feel literally like a chicken with its head cut off. What am I to be doing? Well, there are plenty of things to do and they will most likely not be done within the next half an hour in part to the fact that I would rather complain about it than do it, but I swear, I will make my phone calls, I will keep sleep at bay and soon, yes very soon I will leave this dungeon hell hole that confines me longer than the peaceful walls of my wanted bedroom aka basement living space.
I feel as if I am 93 years of age. My back hurts, my heart hurts-thank you smoking- my eyes hurt-thank you computer, and I believe that I am beginning to develop that lovely thing called carpal tunnel. Thank God for labor laws. Thank God for salary aka no one wants to stay late then. What's the point? I read this stat the other day about this girl working a non salary job saying that she worked too hard and didn't get paid enough. Knock, knock I am working way too hard and not getting paid enough because even though I don't want to work overtime, yeah, I do. Happens. It happens and of course me, I need to get it done or I will form an ulcer that will grow hands and fingers so that even when I am doubled over in pain, I can still get the work done. I think I have a serious problem here people.
And to top this all off, I think I need a vacation. Most people say they need a vacation, but what they are really saying is that they deserve one, that they have done such hard work that they need some form of compensation and what better way than a nice cold drink someplace sunny for a week? No, not me. I don't deserve this vacation. I need it. I am in great danger of compromising my mental health if I do not have a full day off soon where there are no children, no meowing cat, no nasty raging hormoned little brother, and definitely NO dog. Just me in a room with fluffy pillows all around so I can sleep and the occasional food by my bed so I need do nothing but lift my arm and pivot it into the hole in my face.
That is what I need, hell I would sleep in a dungeon as long as the dripping water didn't keep me awake. I am tired of being tired. My mother and her mother are pestering me to go get a blood test and no, they know that I am one of them, but they have to see how closely related. The blood test is to see if I have a thyroid condition which runs in the family and would account for my excessive languid nature. And when I say languid I mean, naps shouldn't last 6 hours and night time sleeping should be 7 to 8 hours not 9 to 12. What is wrong with me?
Well now that I have sufficiently for the moment gotten all of this off my chest. I would like to make my phone calls so that I can leave this place and yes, you got it, go to my bed. The weight training of yesterday is kicking my rear and literally. My gluttes are sore. Mighty.
I have never had this feeling before. I have never been in such a state of disarray. I feel literally like a chicken with its head cut off. What am I to be doing? Well, there are plenty of things to do and they will most likely not be done within the next half an hour in part to the fact that I would rather complain about it than do it, but I swear, I will make my phone calls, I will keep sleep at bay and soon, yes very soon I will leave this dungeon hell hole that confines me longer than the peaceful walls of my wanted bedroom aka basement living space.
I feel as if I am 93 years of age. My back hurts, my heart hurts-thank you smoking- my eyes hurt-thank you computer, and I believe that I am beginning to develop that lovely thing called carpal tunnel. Thank God for labor laws. Thank God for salary aka no one wants to stay late then. What's the point? I read this stat the other day about this girl working a non salary job saying that she worked too hard and didn't get paid enough. Knock, knock I am working way too hard and not getting paid enough because even though I don't want to work overtime, yeah, I do. Happens. It happens and of course me, I need to get it done or I will form an ulcer that will grow hands and fingers so that even when I am doubled over in pain, I can still get the work done. I think I have a serious problem here people.
And to top this all off, I think I need a vacation. Most people say they need a vacation, but what they are really saying is that they deserve one, that they have done such hard work that they need some form of compensation and what better way than a nice cold drink someplace sunny for a week? No, not me. I don't deserve this vacation. I need it. I am in great danger of compromising my mental health if I do not have a full day off soon where there are no children, no meowing cat, no nasty raging hormoned little brother, and definitely NO dog. Just me in a room with fluffy pillows all around so I can sleep and the occasional food by my bed so I need do nothing but lift my arm and pivot it into the hole in my face.
That is what I need, hell I would sleep in a dungeon as long as the dripping water didn't keep me awake. I am tired of being tired. My mother and her mother are pestering me to go get a blood test and no, they know that I am one of them, but they have to see how closely related. The blood test is to see if I have a thyroid condition which runs in the family and would account for my excessive languid nature. And when I say languid I mean, naps shouldn't last 6 hours and night time sleeping should be 7 to 8 hours not 9 to 12. What is wrong with me?
Well now that I have sufficiently for the moment gotten all of this off my chest. I would like to make my phone calls so that I can leave this place and yes, you got it, go to my bed. The weight training of yesterday is kicking my rear and literally. My gluttes are sore. Mighty.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Elephants in the Room
Since finishing school about two and a half months ago I cannot get London off my mind. I was lucky enough to be able to spend my last semester abroad and I absolutely fell in love with the lifestyle. There was so much history and the arts and I couldn't help but fall. So I have been devising a plan with a friend that I made over there to move back in a years time. Things have been falling in place and by the end of August I should know whether I am making a permanent move or if I will just work there for two years.
My family and friends are unimpressed by the idea seeing that they did just get me back not too long ago. That doesn't bother me. The fact that my mother, just as I am leaving the house to head back to my headache of a workplace, that we will be discussed later, makes a comment that is sticking to my ribs like hot fudge sundaes to the cheeks of small children is what is bothering me.
While I was in London, I didn't have the best diet seeing that I never had the best eating habits to begin with, but put that on a college students budget whose money has been depleted by the gross conversion of dollar to pound and you will find that what you can and cannot eat to be even more limiting.
Needless to say, I gained a bit of weight. I didn't think it too dramatic, most likely due to the fact that I see myself everyday in the mirror and in the shower and other places where I, unlike the masses am able to take full advantage of the nakedness and proportions of my figure. I also was greeted with many oohs and ahhhs over this new found body seeing that it had provided me with a lovely new ass-essory. I also found myself spilling over in areas that were usually quite controlled. I took to this with the giddy glee of a junior high girl who has blossomed over the summer just in time for high school to begin. I was pleased, but with those added assets, it was bound to be that I no longer had a washboard stomach, which to be honest, I hadn't had since I was in junior high.
I gave it little thought until I returned home and all the clothes that I wanted to throw in the air (minus heavy denim as the heavy implies possible pain) and have rain upon me in utter ecstasy for having a full wardrobe with a plethora of options again, managed barely just past my new and shapely thighs. Having to tuck in shirts that began to portray an uncanny resemblance to the tops of muffins (hence muffin top) raised an eyebrow of concern, but again not much was done. I had a butt!!
It was not until yesterday when my physical strengths were tested that made me realize that I wanted to get back into shape, not because I knew my weight, which I later made the mistake of finding out, but because I wanted to get my strength back having in previous years prided myself in the hidden talent of being able to carry old school 32" televisions without help from shirtless testosterone riddled males, although the visual would have been a treat. I could still lift heavy things, but my arms had lost their definition and when working out with Jillian Michaels, who I yelled at from on the floor, I was barely able to do five push ups without my arms burning as if someone was holding blue fire torches underneath them. It was awful!!
Ok, enough of the background, let's get to the kicker. So as I am leaving to head back to work from break and my mother comes in and says, "So, if you move back to London and then you come back home, when you come back will you be 500lbs?"
If you are reading this and you know me personally, then you can only imagine the face that i had on at that point. All I could manage was, "What?" Completely taken aback, oh right. I guess now would be a good time to say that I weigh more than my mother. Yes, it's true. I'm not proud of it, but it is true. I hear that things like this happen all the time, soon it shall come to an end and one day we will laugh about this, but now it is time to be serious. So after my confused what, my mother explains to me that she is concerned about my health. Yeah, ok. Got it. Me too. My mental health and so I don't lose it right now in the middle of the day with still three more hours to go, I think that I should just walk out the door. Thanks mom. That really was great for my self esteem. Ego-0. Mom-2.5 (the point 5 is for her sneaky delivery and a .25 for the attempted clean up at the end) New score- Ego- still 0, Mom-2.75. Fantastic.
All I want to do now is order a $10 pizza deal from pizza hut.
My family and friends are unimpressed by the idea seeing that they did just get me back not too long ago. That doesn't bother me. The fact that my mother, just as I am leaving the house to head back to my headache of a workplace, that we will be discussed later, makes a comment that is sticking to my ribs like hot fudge sundaes to the cheeks of small children is what is bothering me.
While I was in London, I didn't have the best diet seeing that I never had the best eating habits to begin with, but put that on a college students budget whose money has been depleted by the gross conversion of dollar to pound and you will find that what you can and cannot eat to be even more limiting.
Needless to say, I gained a bit of weight. I didn't think it too dramatic, most likely due to the fact that I see myself everyday in the mirror and in the shower and other places where I, unlike the masses am able to take full advantage of the nakedness and proportions of my figure. I also was greeted with many oohs and ahhhs over this new found body seeing that it had provided me with a lovely new ass-essory. I also found myself spilling over in areas that were usually quite controlled. I took to this with the giddy glee of a junior high girl who has blossomed over the summer just in time for high school to begin. I was pleased, but with those added assets, it was bound to be that I no longer had a washboard stomach, which to be honest, I hadn't had since I was in junior high.
I gave it little thought until I returned home and all the clothes that I wanted to throw in the air (minus heavy denim as the heavy implies possible pain) and have rain upon me in utter ecstasy for having a full wardrobe with a plethora of options again, managed barely just past my new and shapely thighs. Having to tuck in shirts that began to portray an uncanny resemblance to the tops of muffins (hence muffin top) raised an eyebrow of concern, but again not much was done. I had a butt!!
It was not until yesterday when my physical strengths were tested that made me realize that I wanted to get back into shape, not because I knew my weight, which I later made the mistake of finding out, but because I wanted to get my strength back having in previous years prided myself in the hidden talent of being able to carry old school 32" televisions without help from shirtless testosterone riddled males, although the visual would have been a treat. I could still lift heavy things, but my arms had lost their definition and when working out with Jillian Michaels, who I yelled at from on the floor, I was barely able to do five push ups without my arms burning as if someone was holding blue fire torches underneath them. It was awful!!
Ok, enough of the background, let's get to the kicker. So as I am leaving to head back to work from break and my mother comes in and says, "So, if you move back to London and then you come back home, when you come back will you be 500lbs?"
If you are reading this and you know me personally, then you can only imagine the face that i had on at that point. All I could manage was, "What?" Completely taken aback, oh right. I guess now would be a good time to say that I weigh more than my mother. Yes, it's true. I'm not proud of it, but it is true. I hear that things like this happen all the time, soon it shall come to an end and one day we will laugh about this, but now it is time to be serious. So after my confused what, my mother explains to me that she is concerned about my health. Yeah, ok. Got it. Me too. My mental health and so I don't lose it right now in the middle of the day with still three more hours to go, I think that I should just walk out the door. Thanks mom. That really was great for my self esteem. Ego-0. Mom-2.5 (the point 5 is for her sneaky delivery and a .25 for the attempted clean up at the end) New score- Ego- still 0, Mom-2.75. Fantastic.
All I want to do now is order a $10 pizza deal from pizza hut.
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