I have discovered Facecrack (aka Facebook). The evil networking website that sucks you into its black hole of neverending status updates and "friending" (BTW Daddyfiles, I friended you).
When I first discovered blogging, I became addicted to checking my comments. Is it that obvious I crave human contact? I didn't have time to constantly log on to Blogger and check my comments (all 1 of them), so I had it forwarded to my email. (I still do). The euphoria I felt (and still do) when I receive comments was beyond words. It was my new natural high. Now that I have discovered Facecrack, I have become addicted to checking my wall and finding out who has "friended" me.
I know that Facecrack has been around for ages, but I purposely steered clear. I know me. Once I find a new site, I play with it for hours. So, I stayed away. Much like I have avoided My Space. But, I had been desperately trying to locate an old friend from high school and all my research search engines/programs were coming up empty. I decided to bite the bullet and log on. I found him in 30 seconds. 2 hours later we had set up a lunch date for Christmas Eve. It was that easy. Soon after that, I had joined a few groups from my high school and "friended" 2 more people that I had missed seeing. I was in heaven and very much enjoying the unattractive photos of the "I too good/popular to talk to you" girls from high school. I'm such a bitch. One of my friends from high school wrote me that I looked fabulous and we should laugh at all the people who "peaked" in high school. Oh, believe me....I'm laughing. I know it's very immature of me....but I'm still laughing.
Then I started getting odd friend requests from people I barely know, kinda know and other people that I really didn't like. I currently have over 30 "friend requests" waiting for my confirmation. I decided to take pity on Partner #1 & Partner #3 and grant their friend requests. I even friended Surfer Dude. He usually posts some embarrassing photos of himself, so that's fun for me. I'm sitting very comfortably with 13 friends. All of them people I know really well and would actually hang out with if given the chance. (Partner #3 would have to pay me, though) Fancy Pants let me on the secret.....the more friends you have, the more popular you seem to everyone else. Whatever. I don't care about being popular. I'm not friending some psycho that I knew in high school just because she wants to be "most popular" with 700 "friends"
And what is it with updating your status every 5 minutes. "I'm pondering"......"Now, I'm done pondering"...."I'm taking a shower"...."I'm done taking a shower". I'm lucky if I can complete the act. How and why would I have the time to tell everyone about it.
I also went against the norm on my photo post. I posted a photo of myself without kids, cars, significant others, sexy poses, alcohol or weird cartoons. I'm such a rebel! I grabbed a head shot from my wedding one year ago. This was out of desperation because that is the last time anyone has taken a picture of me that didn't involve rude hand gestures or inappropriate faces. I hate to have my picture taken. I usually ham it up. A favorite is to stuff balloons up my shirt. My grandmother could build an album with those pictures.
I'm totally addicted. I will need an intervention soon or TH might take away my laptop.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Avoiding the 100 Things with Resolutions.
It's my 100th post. YES!! It's about fucking time. I feel like I've been writing forever! My profile has been viewed over 600 times and I have 14 followers. I feel good about that.
15) I will watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's", "Monty Pythons Holy Grail" and "Casablanca". I've never seen these movies and really should.
20) I will bring my lunch to work at least 4 days a week. This will help me on the fat ass side of the equation and help pinch pennies as well. You wouldn't believe the money I spend on take out!
24) I will return personal emails promptly. I get a zillion work emails a day. If someone emails me on one of my personal accounts (I have 3), it might take me a day to get back to them. I feel terrible about this. I know how I would feel if someone did that to me.
25) I will have more fun. I'm always complaining that my life is so boring and I don't do anything. This year...........I will do things! I'm not sure what they will be, but I will do them.
Who else has got some?
In the spirit of the New Year and trying to avoid the "100 Things About Me" that so many of you did for your 100th post, I will offer up my resolutions for the coming New Year. I have a doozy for the first one:
1) I have purchased this book:
I have decided that I'm going to do everything in it. Once a week, I will pick something, do it and then I'll do a blog post on it. I figure it will keep me out of trouble for a few weeks and keep you all amused at the same time. "The Double Daring Book for Girls" is suppose to be out Summer 2009. Let's see if I can make it through this one first. Anyone who wants to join it, let me know!
I have decided that I'm going to do everything in it. Once a week, I will pick something, do it and then I'll do a blog post on it. I figure it will keep me out of trouble for a few weeks and keep you all amused at the same time. "The Double Daring Book for Girls" is suppose to be out Summer 2009. Let's see if I can make it through this one first. Anyone who wants to join it, let me know!2.) Obviously, I need to lose some weight/get in shape or Princess HASAY aka Casey will hunt me down and kick my lard ass. So, I will go to the gym at least 5 days a week.
3) I will own a pair of thigh-high boots. Yes, I'm sure I will look like a hooker, but I REALLY want a pair. I will make them classy, I swear.
4) I will clean out my work email inbox everyday. I currently have 438 emails in my inbox, many of them over a year old. They need to be sorted and cataloged. I haven't really gotten to it yet. That might be because I receive 350 more everyday.
5) I will be more touchy-feely with people. As you all know, I'm not a hugger and I hate to be randomly touched. I will try to accept "the hug" more often so I don't seem like a frigid bitch. The holiday season has been tricky. It seems that everyone wants to hug. From now on, I will hug more.
6) I will go to the Museum of Art in Boston for an exhibit. I keep saying I'm gonna go, but I never do. I will go.
7) I will finally order that silly how-to video and find my G-spot. I am the Queen of Naughty, but I have yet to investigate this. Truthfully, I haven't found the need. I'm getting that special toy too. (ya know, 'cause I've just gotta have just one more)
8) I will organize all my mementos/photos into scrapbooks. I have boxes and boxes of shit from the 10 years TH and I have been together; ticket stubs, programs, photo's etc. We've been married for over a year and I still haven't put all my wedding photos into an album. My sister gave me a framed wedding picture for Xmas this year because she is so pissed I haven't done anything yet.
9) I will make TH put a shower door in our master bathroom. We have a beautiful master bathroom that we can't shower in because we STILL haven't installed a shower door. We are currently showering in the guest bathroom and when we have guests, we have to share. It sucks.
10) I will go on a ducktours ride in Boston. According to my mother, I've already done this.....when I was 4 years old. Hmmmmm......I wonder why I can't remember. We have them on the Cape, but Boston would be more fun.
11) I want to climb the Bunker Hill Monument and walk the entire Freedom Trail. Mom says I've done this before too. Still not remembering....
12) I will have more sex. Seriously, I still think I need more. Poor TH.
13) I will design and post to my own website. I own the domain name. WTF! Why haven't I done it yet?
14) I will mock Partner #3 more. I don't do it enough. The man drives me insane and I only get in a few good digs now and then. I think I'll really lay into him this year.
15) I will watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's", "Monty Pythons Holy Grail" and "Casablanca". I've never seen these movies and really should.
16) I will start using eyecream. I'm gonna be 32 years old. I should have started years ago. I do the all over moisturizing, but I need to focus on the eyes.
17) I will send birthday cards out to everyone I know. I always want too, but never actually get them in the mail. I'm more of a call-on-that-day or e-card kinda girl. In fact, I will send out cards for just any old time. I love getting cards so I will send out more.
18) I will lay out my clothes the night before work. I spend 10-15 minutes deciding what to wear each morning. If I laid them out the night before, I wouldn't have to do it.
19) I will clean out the bottom left drawer of my desk. This is my junk drawer. It's where I throw things I don't want to deal with. It's a black hole.
20) I will bring my lunch to work at least 4 days a week. This will help me on the fat ass side of the equation and help pinch pennies as well. You wouldn't believe the money I spend on take out!
21) I will try to break my "work all the time" fetish. Even though I enjoy it and feel that I need to be there, I'm sure there is something better I could be doing with my time. I will stop logging on while I'm at home "just to check my email" or "just to finish one thing"
22) I will remember to put on deodorant BEFORE I leave the house. I dress to the nines everyday, but always forget the deodorant. I have to keep an extra in my car because I always remember on my way to work.
23) I will finally post my photo on this blog. It may take me a month or two. But, I'll come outta the closet soon.
24) I will return personal emails promptly. I get a zillion work emails a day. If someone emails me on one of my personal accounts (I have 3), it might take me a day to get back to them. I feel terrible about this. I know how I would feel if someone did that to me.
25) I will have more fun. I'm always complaining that my life is so boring and I don't do anything. This year...........I will do things! I'm not sure what they will be, but I will do them.
I intend to keep this resolutions this year. 2008 was such a downer. I plan to make 2009 so much better.
Who else has got some?
Monday, December 29, 2008
Strange Taste
Just like every other horny, red blooded American woman (and I'm sure a few million others around the world), I worship at the alter of George Clooney. I have seen Ocean's Eleven, Twelve and Thirteen about a billion times and I endure Alicia Silverstone's annoying acting skills so I can see him in that leather Batman suit. The man is a god. I've even watched "One Fine Day" just to view the scene where he is holding the kitten. Hot man, cute kitty....YUM!
Yes, that is Jack Black and yes, I've thought about seeking therapy. Whatever the reason, I think that this man is brutally hot. I have seen "The Holiday" a zillion times and not just because I think it's a great movie. I'm not watching it for Jude Law (who I personally think is a scuz), but for how hot Jack is! Just look at how he looks at her in this photo. 
Okay, now that I look at it again, he does look a bit psycho-killer. But, still hot.
If you thought that was bad, here are a few others that I lust after.
Kevin James. He was most adorable in "Hitch". I think that most of my crush is due to his comedy. And maybe his lips. Just look at that bottom one. Dontcha just want to bite it?
Chris Farley. I like his pre-psychotic meltdown days. I'm convinced if he and I had met, he would still be alive. He had self-esteem issues, I worshiped the ground he trod on. It would have been a perfect match! He's like a big teddy bear.
Vin Diesel. The man sets my loins aflame. You could grate cheese on those abs. Every time I see "XXX" I need to take a cold shower. (It's been on HBO alot lately so I'm very clean right now) He is the wallpaper on my office computer. The guys haven't noticed yet, but the time will come. I snagged a snapshot of him from the movie so I can say that I'm a fan of the film. Yeah....that's right....a big fan....a big fan of the scenes where he's shirtless. He does have these large man nipples that I overlook. Something just not right about that.
Sir Sean Connery. The older this man gets, the hotter he is. I've seen "The Rock" umpteen times and when he's wearing those fatigues....OMG! I get tingly just writing about it. Is it sick that he is old enough to be my grandfather and I have naughty fantasies about him reading to me? It's that accent. It's intoxicating. Some would say I have "daddy issues".
Sam Elliot. The man is a movie sex legend! I hate westerns! Yet, I have seen "Tombstone" more times than I care to admit. Val Kilmer does make it less painful, but Sam is so sexy. I've also watch "Roadhouse" a few thousand times. Not for Patrick Swayze, but for this mustached man-candy. He's a hundred years old too, but damn fine!
So my tastes are a bit eclectic and lean a bit towards the chubby side. I like my men meaty. Big K is appropriately nicknamed as he is built like a football linebacker. He's huge. He has big, hockey player legs and shoulders a midget could ski jump off of. Granted, he does need to loose a few pounds (or 35) to be healthy again. But, I find him to be incredibly hot.
So, when I'm not having naughty sex dreams about Pam Anderson (I have no lesbian tendancies and this dream is a constant problem. The guys at the office think it's hysterical), I'm lusting after chubby comedians, bald hotties and geriatric actors.
Anyone else have this issue? Or am I the only one bound for therapy.
But, the damp panties stop there. Instead of following the high level of estrogen to Brad Pitt, Harrison Ford, or Leonardo DiCaprio, I lust after this:
Yes, that is Jack Black and yes, I've thought about seeking therapy. Whatever the reason, I think that this man is brutally hot. I have seen "The Holiday" a zillion times and not just because I think it's a great movie. I'm not watching it for Jude Law (who I personally think is a scuz), but for how hot Jack is! Just look at how he looks at her in this photo. Okay, now that I look at it again, he does look a bit psycho-killer. But, still hot.If you thought that was bad, here are a few others that I lust after.
Kevin James. He was most adorable in "Hitch". I think that most of my crush is due to his comedy. And maybe his lips. Just look at that bottom one. Dontcha just want to bite it?Chris Farley. I like his pre-psychotic meltdown days. I'm convinced if he and I had met, he would still be alive. He had self-esteem issues, I worshiped the ground he trod on. It would have been a perfect match! He's like a big teddy bear.Vin Diesel. The man sets my loins aflame. You could grate cheese on those abs. Every time I see "XXX" I need to take a cold shower. (It's been on HBO alot lately so I'm very clean right now) He is the wallpaper on my office computer. The guys haven't noticed yet, but the time will come. I snagged a snapshot of him from the movie so I can say that I'm a fan of the film. Yeah....that's right....a big fan....a big fan of the scenes where he's shirtless. He does have these large man nipples that I overlook. Something just not right about that.Sir Sean Connery. The older this man gets, the hotter he is. I've seen "The Rock" umpteen times and when he's wearing those fatigues....OMG! I get tingly just writing about it. Is it sick that he is old enough to be my grandfather and I have naughty fantasies about him reading to me? It's that accent. It's intoxicating. Some would say I have "daddy issues".Sam Elliot. The man is a movie sex legend! I hate westerns! Yet, I have seen "Tombstone" more times than I care to admit. Val Kilmer does make it less painful, but Sam is so sexy. I've also watch "Roadhouse" a few thousand times. Not for Patrick Swayze, but for this mustached man-candy. He's a hundred years old too, but damn fine!So my tastes are a bit eclectic and lean a bit towards the chubby side. I like my men meaty. Big K is appropriately nicknamed as he is built like a football linebacker. He's huge. He has big, hockey player legs and shoulders a midget could ski jump off of. Granted, he does need to loose a few pounds (or 35) to be healthy again. But, I find him to be incredibly hot.
So, when I'm not having naughty sex dreams about Pam Anderson (I have no lesbian tendancies and this dream is a constant problem. The guys at the office think it's hysterical), I'm lusting after chubby comedians, bald hotties and geriatric actors.
Anyone else have this issue? Or am I the only one bound for therapy.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Merry Xmas To All
I wish all my bloggy friends a very Merry Xmas. Wish me luck today. I have taken your advice and will travel to my Grandmothers for Xmas torture. TH has even agreed to go with me! If any of you are in the Sharon, MA area and hear sirens and screams, don't be alarmed. It's just the sign that I've had enough and have finally stuck AH in a snowbank head first. If you wish to bail me out, please meet me at the police station.
I have included a photo of myself at my Grandmothers before the dreaded AH arrival.
Lola babe, you were the first person I thought of when I saw this! Cheers!
I have included a photo of myself at my Grandmothers before the dreaded AH arrival.
Lola babe, you were the first person I thought of when I saw this! Cheers!
Friday, December 19, 2008
My Expat Interview
If you haven't been over to see Expat at That Damn Expat, you must get your sweet ass over there now! Girlfriend is funny, insightful and needs our support now that she is getting marriage in less than 2 weeks and has the SIL from hell. I feel a kinship to her.
She got a fabulous meme and sent it over to me. Here's the 411:
Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
And here are my questions:
I'm a very new reader so please tell me about yourself, in five sentences or less. I am a loud, outspoken,"guys-gal" that likes sports, drinks beer and might occasionally belch within hearing of others. The girly-girl side of me requires a shoe collection that would make Imelda Marcos proud, I have a standing appointment for a mani/pedi every two weeks and I love to sit and chat over a glass (or five) of wine. I can say blow job without making a face and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I have googled "Jessica Alba naked pictures" to see if she really looks that good. I am choosy about those I associate with, but if I choose you....you will have a loyal, loving friend for life.
If you had to get rid of all your shoes except one pair, which pair would you save? These. (Sorry it's so fuzzy)
I got them at a designer clearance sale for $10.00. I've never seen anything like them. The heels are a bit shorter than I'm use to (under 4 inches), but women fall all over themselves when they see them. I've never received so many compliments!
What is the one thing you love the most about yourself? My unflappable ability to digest sensitive information. A friend can tell me just about anything and I will accept it and try to understand. TH says that I'm too PC and a bit naive. But, people will tell me their most precious, dangerous secrets and it doesn't change how I feel about them. If they're not hurting anyone, it's just another interesting thing about them.
What is the one thing you like the least about yourself? My total lack of self esteem. It fucks with my life sometimes and makes things very difficult.
I see you love Sex and the City. Which character is most like you? I LOVE Sex and the City. (In fact, I'm watching a rerun right now). I would say that I'm most like Samantha. I am very free-thinking about sex. BTH (Before TH), I was a little trampy. I love crazy fashion and have strong opinions.
There, I have successfully completed the interview. Is anyone game? Do you dare to offer yourself up to me and my crazy ways? Comment away!
She got a fabulous meme and sent it over to me. Here's the 411:
Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
And here are my questions:
I'm a very new reader so please tell me about yourself, in five sentences or less. I am a loud, outspoken,"guys-gal" that likes sports, drinks beer and might occasionally belch within hearing of others. The girly-girl side of me requires a shoe collection that would make Imelda Marcos proud, I have a standing appointment for a mani/pedi every two weeks and I love to sit and chat over a glass (or five) of wine. I can say blow job without making a face and I'm not embarrassed to admit that I have googled "Jessica Alba naked pictures" to see if she really looks that good. I am choosy about those I associate with, but if I choose you....you will have a loyal, loving friend for life.
If you had to get rid of all your shoes except one pair, which pair would you save? These. (Sorry it's so fuzzy)
I got them at a designer clearance sale for $10.00. I've never seen anything like them. The heels are a bit shorter than I'm use to (under 4 inches), but women fall all over themselves when they see them. I've never received so many compliments!
What is the one thing you love the most about yourself? My unflappable ability to digest sensitive information. A friend can tell me just about anything and I will accept it and try to understand. TH says that I'm too PC and a bit naive. But, people will tell me their most precious, dangerous secrets and it doesn't change how I feel about them. If they're not hurting anyone, it's just another interesting thing about them.
What is the one thing you like the least about yourself? My total lack of self esteem. It fucks with my life sometimes and makes things very difficult.
I see you love Sex and the City. Which character is most like you? I LOVE Sex and the City. (In fact, I'm watching a rerun right now). I would say that I'm most like Samantha. I am very free-thinking about sex. BTH (Before TH), I was a little trampy. I love crazy fashion and have strong opinions.
There, I have successfully completed the interview. Is anyone game? Do you dare to offer yourself up to me and my crazy ways? Comment away!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Drama Queen
As I have posted (numerous times), Partner #3 likes to drive me insane. He routinely crashes his computer, losing things 10 minutes after I hand them to him and calls me continuously through-out the day. He calls me on Saturday mornings and afternoons, 5 minutes after I leave the office, 5 minutes before I arrive at the office in the morning and other random times during my life. He calls with impossible projects, emergency tasks (life-sustaining to him, normal for others) and sometimes he's driving somewhere, gets bored, runs out of people to call and decides to call me and "chat". This would be fine if I wasn't in the middle of the 67 earth shattering projects that he asked me to do 3 calls ago. When he is in the office, he calls my extension endlessly and makes a zillion trips to my office. If I'm not in there, he will hunt me down.
He is a brilliant, successful, very sweet man but absolutely, most completely, in every way possible, totally maniacal. I spend everyday in a ball of anxiety....in panic....wondering what will blow up next. Always on the verge of an ulcer, I'm surprised I'm not doing shots of Pepto with my coffee.
He calls me when he's on vacation.....at least 4-5 calls during the morning of the first day. Then, the calls taper off to one every 3-4 hours. It doesn't matter if he's on top of a mountain preparing to ski down or lying on the beach. If he can get 1 bar of a wireless signal, he'll call me:
"I was just thinking....." "Could you find out....." "Call so-'n-so and tell them...." "Find this file, copy it and send it to...." "Do you know....?" "Have I....?" "Where is....?" "I need/want .....etc.
This doesn't even begin to explain the barrage of emails that flood my inbox through-out the day as well as the dozens of text messages.
Have you seen "The Devil Wears Prada"? That is my life. But without the free clothes and trip to Paris.
Just last week he went on a mini-vacation. So that means I get a "mini-break." The day before he departed, we spoke up until I left that evening and even on my ride home. Major projects had been completed that day and we had to finalize the final details....17 times. After that, he was gone!! I was free....well....sorta.
The next day, I came into the office expecting 3-4 voicemail messages and umpteen emails from him time stamped during the wee hours. But, there was nothing. My voicemail light was dark and my inbox was filled with the usual smut and assorted messages from the other associates. Nothing from Partner 3.
By 11 am, I was a bit nervous. No emails, no phone calls....not even a text. Had his plane been hijacked? Was he stuck on a layover some where with no wireless signal? Even then, he probably would chance a germy pay phone just to tell me about his experience.
At 1 pm, nervousness had turned to worried and utter panic. I was convinced that he was mortally wounded, lying in a ditch without a wireless signal. Nothing short of death would keep him from calling in to torment me.
At 4 pm, I had an epiphany! I have become addicted to this drama. I was so use to be being on the edge every moment of every day that without the constant adrenaline rush I was freaking out. I've never thought of myself as a drama queen, but here I was wondering where my daily anxiety shot was.
Needless to say he is back in the office this week and has returned to making my life hell. Thank God! Those 4 days without him made me crazy! I would rather know when I'm going to be tortured then sit and wonder where it is.
He is a brilliant, successful, very sweet man but absolutely, most completely, in every way possible, totally maniacal. I spend everyday in a ball of anxiety....in panic....wondering what will blow up next. Always on the verge of an ulcer, I'm surprised I'm not doing shots of Pepto with my coffee.
He calls me when he's on vacation.....at least 4-5 calls during the morning of the first day. Then, the calls taper off to one every 3-4 hours. It doesn't matter if he's on top of a mountain preparing to ski down or lying on the beach. If he can get 1 bar of a wireless signal, he'll call me:
"I was just thinking....." "Could you find out....." "Call so-'n-so and tell them...." "Find this file, copy it and send it to...." "Do you know....?" "Have I....?" "Where is....?" "I need/want .....etc.
This doesn't even begin to explain the barrage of emails that flood my inbox through-out the day as well as the dozens of text messages.
Have you seen "The Devil Wears Prada"? That is my life. But without the free clothes and trip to Paris.
Just last week he went on a mini-vacation. So that means I get a "mini-break." The day before he departed, we spoke up until I left that evening and even on my ride home. Major projects had been completed that day and we had to finalize the final details....17 times. After that, he was gone!! I was free....well....sorta.
The next day, I came into the office expecting 3-4 voicemail messages and umpteen emails from him time stamped during the wee hours. But, there was nothing. My voicemail light was dark and my inbox was filled with the usual smut and assorted messages from the other associates. Nothing from Partner 3.
By 11 am, I was a bit nervous. No emails, no phone calls....not even a text. Had his plane been hijacked? Was he stuck on a layover some where with no wireless signal? Even then, he probably would chance a germy pay phone just to tell me about his experience.
At 1 pm, nervousness had turned to worried and utter panic. I was convinced that he was mortally wounded, lying in a ditch without a wireless signal. Nothing short of death would keep him from calling in to torment me.
At 4 pm, I had an epiphany! I have become addicted to this drama. I was so use to be being on the edge every moment of every day that without the constant adrenaline rush I was freaking out. I've never thought of myself as a drama queen, but here I was wondering where my daily anxiety shot was.
Needless to say he is back in the office this week and has returned to making my life hell. Thank God! Those 4 days without him made me crazy! I would rather know when I'm going to be tortured then sit and wonder where it is.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Where's My Guidebook?
When you are born, your parents are there to tell you what's right or wrong, good or bad, and in my case to ground me every chance they got. They were there to make most decisions for you. But, now that you're an adult, what are you suppose to do when you need to make a decision or need some guidance? Yes, that's right....you have to make all those on your own. I think that as you graduate high school they should hand you a guide book along with your diploma. A guidebook entitled: "This Is What You Should Do If....."
I'm so tired of trying to figure out what to do. Why isn't there a Google like search engine that you can type in a query and magically the solution will appear. Everyone else thinks that they have the answers. But, what if you're lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking "What if.....What do I do.......How can I fix this.......?" Where is my guidebook? I'm not talking about the silly "Life's Little Instructions Book." H. Jackson Brown Jr. may take the lemons life brought him and whip up some lemonade. But, what if life has brought me a huge crate of fucking watermelons? Should I inject them with vodka, let sit overnight and begin munching in the morning? How does that help my troubles? Now, I'm drunk, I have a stomach ache and with that much watermelon and vodka in my system, intestinal distress can't be far behind. Jackson, why can't you write a book like "Life's Little Instruction Book On How To Tell Your Husband That He Needs To Take Better Care Of Himself Because You're Afraid He's Going To Have A Heart Attack Because He Stresses Himself Out and Eats Poorly." See if you can pen that up in time for Christmas.
Or there's that "Chicken Soup for the Whatever". These books are precious but not much help. I need one titled "Chicken Soup for the Problems You Have With Your Asshole Brother That Are Making You Not Want To Go To Your Grandmothers For Christmas And Now She Is Royally Pissed At You" They haven't come up with that one yet. I looked. There are 6 Bowls of Chicken Soup For the Soul as well as 2 Cups. I wonder how long I'll wait for mine.
I'm fairly happy with life, but apparently, I should be happier. "Climb your Stairway to Heaven:
the 9 habits of maximum happiness" David Leonhardt thinks that in 9 steps I could be happier. How about the "9 Steps To Figuring Out Why You Really Don't Feel Like Getting A Flipping Xmas Tree This Year And Would Like Everyone To Stop Bugging You About It" I'm sorry, David....you need to speak up on that one.
Marci Shimoff thinks that I should be "Happy for No Reason: 7 Steps to Being Happy from the Inside Out" Why would anyone want to be happy for no reason? If I'm happy, I want to know why and how come. This way, I can do it again. She isn't very helpful, is she? Marci, if I was happy for no reason do you think I would be bitching right now? How about this one: "7 Steps To Being Happy That Your Father-in-Law Judges Peoples Worth By Their College Degrees And You Only Have An Associates Degree That You Aren't Using"
There are self-help books, people giving advice, people telling you to "Look within yourself for the answer" That phrase pisses me off. If I knew the answer, it would be in me. I don't need to stick a camera up my ass and poke around for it. I would know if it was there. It's exhausting. There are guidebooks for marriage, but none that tell you how to tweak the little things. All of the books are written to save the marriage that is about to implode or the one that has already failed. There should be a book titled "Your Marriage is Perfect Except For One Tiny Thing That Is Driving You Up A Wall and We're Gonna Tell You How To Fix It" I have looked all over Barnes & Nobles and search Amazon daily. There is no book like that.
Why don't these authors write about something that I can use? There's lots of love and sunshine out there to spout off on. But, I've got some big ones here. Get typing.
I'm so tired of trying to figure out what to do. Why isn't there a Google like search engine that you can type in a query and magically the solution will appear. Everyone else thinks that they have the answers. But, what if you're lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking "What if.....What do I do.......How can I fix this.......?" Where is my guidebook? I'm not talking about the silly "Life's Little Instructions Book." H. Jackson Brown Jr. may take the lemons life brought him and whip up some lemonade. But, what if life has brought me a huge crate of fucking watermelons? Should I inject them with vodka, let sit overnight and begin munching in the morning? How does that help my troubles? Now, I'm drunk, I have a stomach ache and with that much watermelon and vodka in my system, intestinal distress can't be far behind. Jackson, why can't you write a book like "Life's Little Instruction Book On How To Tell Your Husband That He Needs To Take Better Care Of Himself Because You're Afraid He's Going To Have A Heart Attack Because He Stresses Himself Out and Eats Poorly." See if you can pen that up in time for Christmas.
Or there's that "Chicken Soup for the Whatever". These books are precious but not much help. I need one titled "Chicken Soup for the Problems You Have With Your Asshole Brother That Are Making You Not Want To Go To Your Grandmothers For Christmas And Now She Is Royally Pissed At You" They haven't come up with that one yet. I looked. There are 6 Bowls of Chicken Soup For the Soul as well as 2 Cups. I wonder how long I'll wait for mine.
I'm fairly happy with life, but apparently, I should be happier. "Climb your Stairway to Heaven:
the 9 habits of maximum happiness" David Leonhardt thinks that in 9 steps I could be happier. How about the "9 Steps To Figuring Out Why You Really Don't Feel Like Getting A Flipping Xmas Tree This Year And Would Like Everyone To Stop Bugging You About It" I'm sorry, David....you need to speak up on that one.
Marci Shimoff thinks that I should be "Happy for No Reason: 7 Steps to Being Happy from the Inside Out" Why would anyone want to be happy for no reason? If I'm happy, I want to know why and how come. This way, I can do it again. She isn't very helpful, is she? Marci, if I was happy for no reason do you think I would be bitching right now? How about this one: "7 Steps To Being Happy That Your Father-in-Law Judges Peoples Worth By Their College Degrees And You Only Have An Associates Degree That You Aren't Using"
There are self-help books, people giving advice, people telling you to "Look within yourself for the answer" That phrase pisses me off. If I knew the answer, it would be in me. I don't need to stick a camera up my ass and poke around for it. I would know if it was there. It's exhausting. There are guidebooks for marriage, but none that tell you how to tweak the little things. All of the books are written to save the marriage that is about to implode or the one that has already failed. There should be a book titled "Your Marriage is Perfect Except For One Tiny Thing That Is Driving You Up A Wall and We're Gonna Tell You How To Fix It" I have looked all over Barnes & Nobles and search Amazon daily. There is no book like that.
Why don't these authors write about something that I can use? There's lots of love and sunshine out there to spout off on. But, I've got some big ones here. Get typing.
Monday, December 15, 2008
So This Is How You Found Me
As an admitted Google whore, I can say with utter certainty that I have Googled just about everything. My name (Did you know that I was a very famous black slave in the Civil War and also a model?), my exboyfriend's names, TH's exgirlfriend's name (I was disappointed that she wasn't doing midget porn or something equally as weird). I've Googled for aerial maps, street maps, naked pictures of celebs (sometimes I get bored while eating lunch) and to find the answer to a burning questions like "What would happen if you crossed at a pear with a banana." (Again, bored during lunch) If someone can't find the answer to a question my immediate response is "Why don't you Google it?" How in the world did we ever survive without it?
After reading Badass's and Lola's posts about their top search queries, I decided to check out mine. After all, I am the queen of inappropriate posts. One can only imagine what search could drive a visitor to my blog.
Porn Golf Ball Washer - And you guys think I'm twisted! This was a search from our friends over in the United Kingdom. Kat....What the hell is going on over there? This is a new kinda kink! And wouldn't that hurt????
Orgasm in a Cup - I used this phrase once to describe a good cup of coffee. Why would anyone search for that? There are better ways to achieve that feeling.
Secretary Spread - The new year is upon us and people are looking to lose the secretary spread. Maybe Club HASAY can help them. I know I can't. I ate a mountain of beef stew over mash potatoes last night. MMMMmmmmmm! With buttered hot rolls tooooooooooo!!!!!
Rough Maid - Someone from Indonesia is looking for a housekeeper with a side of spanking. I'm not sure how I can help them. I hate housework. Even if you paid me, I would still hate it and if you tried to spank me while doing it I would probably shoot you.
Professional Letter of Praise - Why in the world would this lead you to my site? My guys abuse me, not praise me! And they would never take the time to write it all down in a letter. Sometimes I can't even get them to email me stuff.
Caffeine Is Bad for Orgasms - I've never had a problem. I drink a zillion cups of coffee a week and manage just fine, thank you. This was paired with Caffeine Orgasms. I wonder how that would work? If someone knows, please tell me! I would be happy all day!
Cheeseburger Duel - Apparently someone from Italy was hungry and feisty at the same time. They must have been surprise when they stumbled upon little old me. How does this work? Is it and eating contest or something?
Beer Allergy Sneezing - This would be the worst allergy. Get this person some Claritin Clear, STAT!!!!!!
My fucking ex blog - I'm not sure what to say about this one. Obviously someone has some pent up rage.
Patricia Diamond - Girlfriend is a porn star! (I had to Google her to find this out. I didn't see my blog on the search list, though) My fans in Hungary are searching for her. Sorry guys!
Turtleneck flip flop - So, is this a new kinda shirt or a new kinda shoes?
Fattie Dominatrix - Hey, we've all got our fetishes. Someone was looking to be abused by a dominatrix who is on the large side. What ever turns you on. Roll in flour, find the wet spot?
Fat Ass Diamond - Is this different than a Big Ass Diamond? Is someone looking for a diamond that is larger on the bottom than the top? What type of cut would that be?
Taco Bell - Oh the little lady who was looking for directions to her nearest Taco Bell might have stumbled upon my site. Do you think she was as horrified as Casey to find out that I've never been there?
Women "crotch watching" - Someone else is out there looking for camel toes too!
Most of the other search queries were too disgusting for me to post. All this proves it that I'm not the only one out there with a dirty mind! But, some of you are down right twisted! Happy Monday!
After reading Badass's and Lola's posts about their top search queries, I decided to check out mine. After all, I am the queen of inappropriate posts. One can only imagine what search could drive a visitor to my blog.
Porn Golf Ball Washer - And you guys think I'm twisted! This was a search from our friends over in the United Kingdom. Kat....What the hell is going on over there? This is a new kinda kink! And wouldn't that hurt????
Orgasm in a Cup - I used this phrase once to describe a good cup of coffee. Why would anyone search for that? There are better ways to achieve that feeling.
Secretary Spread - The new year is upon us and people are looking to lose the secretary spread. Maybe Club HASAY can help them. I know I can't. I ate a mountain of beef stew over mash potatoes last night. MMMMmmmmmm! With buttered hot rolls tooooooooooo!!!!!
Rough Maid - Someone from Indonesia is looking for a housekeeper with a side of spanking. I'm not sure how I can help them. I hate housework. Even if you paid me, I would still hate it and if you tried to spank me while doing it I would probably shoot you.
Professional Letter of Praise - Why in the world would this lead you to my site? My guys abuse me, not praise me! And they would never take the time to write it all down in a letter. Sometimes I can't even get them to email me stuff.
Caffeine Is Bad for Orgasms - I've never had a problem. I drink a zillion cups of coffee a week and manage just fine, thank you. This was paired with Caffeine Orgasms. I wonder how that would work? If someone knows, please tell me! I would be happy all day!
Cheeseburger Duel - Apparently someone from Italy was hungry and feisty at the same time. They must have been surprise when they stumbled upon little old me. How does this work? Is it and eating contest or something?
Beer Allergy Sneezing - This would be the worst allergy. Get this person some Claritin Clear, STAT!!!!!!
My fucking ex blog - I'm not sure what to say about this one. Obviously someone has some pent up rage.
Patricia Diamond - Girlfriend is a porn star! (I had to Google her to find this out. I didn't see my blog on the search list, though) My fans in Hungary are searching for her. Sorry guys!
Turtleneck flip flop - So, is this a new kinda shirt or a new kinda shoes?
Fattie Dominatrix - Hey, we've all got our fetishes. Someone was looking to be abused by a dominatrix who is on the large side. What ever turns you on. Roll in flour, find the wet spot?
Fat Ass Diamond - Is this different than a Big Ass Diamond? Is someone looking for a diamond that is larger on the bottom than the top? What type of cut would that be?
Taco Bell - Oh the little lady who was looking for directions to her nearest Taco Bell might have stumbled upon my site. Do you think she was as horrified as Casey to find out that I've never been there?
Women "crotch watching" - Someone else is out there looking for camel toes too!
Most of the other search queries were too disgusting for me to post. All this proves it that I'm not the only one out there with a dirty mind! But, some of you are down right twisted! Happy Monday!
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
3 Months or So
When I started this blog, I told myself that I would make it edgy. I wanted to cross the line, step into the red, and provoke. I'm satisfied that I have done just that. I admit I occasionally spout off something cutesy, sentimental and girlie. But, fuck it! I've got a bit of that rolling around in me and it sneaks out. I know Josh gets a bit frustrated when I become benign and he always calls me to tell me.
I also told myself that I would not be overly bloggy about my dogs. TH and I don't have kids and I'm not sure if we plan too. We're dog people and our dogs are our kids. We don't go overboard, planning doggy birthday parties and such (not meant to be an insult to those that do) but we really love them and they are part of the family. When TH and I hooked up, I was already in possession of my little Lab and our Boxer can later.
I was 19 and six months before I had just moved into my first apartment. Even though I had a boyfriend, it was lonely. I had grown up with pets and there were always animals around. When asked, my landlords were kind enough to allow me to adopted a dog. I eagerly went to the pound and was overjoyed when I discovered a litter of Lab/Border Collie puppies. I picked out the most precious one with a white spot on her nose and white socks on her feet. I took her home 2 days later.
She was a terror.
The first 2 nights she cried the whole time and I was 2 seconds away from shipping her back to the pound. She was making me miserable. She was a monster to housebreak and ate everything in sight. I was miserable. But, common sense and love prevailed and I made it through that terrible 2 weeks.
12 years later she is still making me nuts. She is smarter than smart, gets into everything and can some how manage to pull food off the counter even if it is 3 feet from the edge. Not only does she sleep in our bed if we forget to close the bedroom door, but she pulls the covers down and nests in the sheets. She is the only dog I know that actually watches TV and understands what's on. She barks at the dogs or any other animal. She has a weakness for perfume and "nice" smells. If there is a magazine with perfume samples in it she will pull it on the floor and roll around on it until it's in tatters. I haven't finished a Cosmo in months. She loves to get in the shower once we're finished and rub herself against the walls, enjoying the smell of soap and shampoo. She is a wacko. She is my baby. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a dog. She greets me at the front door every night, totally enthralled with the idea that I'm home and she will be able to follow me all over the house as I do my nightly chores. Then as I settle down on the couch to watch TV shows, she bypasses her comfortable, very expensive dog bed to lie at my feet or on my feet if they happen to be on the floor. She has to be near me at all times. Sometimes it drives me up the wall. Especially if she decides to curl up at my feet like a speedbump while I'm cooking on the stove.
It was during her yearly wellness appointment, 2 days before Thanksgiving that I got the news. She has liver cancer. The vet was almost in tears (he just lost his dog last year to the same thing) as he told me she's got maybe 3 months or so. In my typical stone faced emotionless expression that hits me when I get bad news, I started peppering him with straight questions: What can I do to make her more comfortable? Is she in pain? When do I know that it's "that time"? He regarded me with curiosity as I seemingly digested this news as if I was receiving a diagnosis on a problem with my car. He seems alarmed that I wasn't crying and flailing about. I was in business mode. There was no way I was going to break down in front of him.
I was fine for the next hour as I casually went to the market, picked up the Thanksgiving turkeys and drove home. Little Lab was with me the whole time, dancing around in the backseat, thrilled to be on a car ride. It wasn't until I got home that I lost it. She had wore herself out at the vet and in the car and had settled herself down in her dog bed to rest. Still dressed in my work suit and heels, I fell to my knees in her bed, dragged her into my lap and sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like hours. She looked at me with her hazy old lady eyes that have still have eagle-eye vision and seemed confused. Why was I carrying on this way and why wasn't I running around the house doing chores so she could be under my feet?
It's been a few weeks and she's shows no sign of stopping. She's still a huge pain in my ass and gets into everything all the time. But, now instead of yelling at her, TH and I just tisk tisk and let it pass by. On Thanksgiving she ate more turkey than we did and we no longer worry about giving her too much cheese (too much dairy isn't good for dogs). Her kibble days are no longer and she will be eating homemade food from now on. She's allowed to lounge on the incredibly expensive leather couch and always overstays her welcome on the bed. She has carte blanche on everything. I know her time is short and let her do whatever she wants.
I dread the day that it all will end. Even more, I dread how my reaction will effect my guys in the office. Not one of them is "dog" person, so no one will be able to understand how on that day my whole world will fall apart and it is more than likely I will have to take the entire day off. I'm sure that "It's just a dog" will be floating around as my absence is noticed and explained. I dread the false sympathy and the curious looks.
'Cause she's not just a dog to us, she's our family.
I also told myself that I would not be overly bloggy about my dogs. TH and I don't have kids and I'm not sure if we plan too. We're dog people and our dogs are our kids. We don't go overboard, planning doggy birthday parties and such (not meant to be an insult to those that do) but we really love them and they are part of the family. When TH and I hooked up, I was already in possession of my little Lab and our Boxer can later.
I was 19 and six months before I had just moved into my first apartment. Even though I had a boyfriend, it was lonely. I had grown up with pets and there were always animals around. When asked, my landlords were kind enough to allow me to adopted a dog. I eagerly went to the pound and was overjoyed when I discovered a litter of Lab/Border Collie puppies. I picked out the most precious one with a white spot on her nose and white socks on her feet. I took her home 2 days later.
She was a terror.
The first 2 nights she cried the whole time and I was 2 seconds away from shipping her back to the pound. She was making me miserable. She was a monster to housebreak and ate everything in sight. I was miserable. But, common sense and love prevailed and I made it through that terrible 2 weeks.
12 years later she is still making me nuts. She is smarter than smart, gets into everything and can some how manage to pull food off the counter even if it is 3 feet from the edge. Not only does she sleep in our bed if we forget to close the bedroom door, but she pulls the covers down and nests in the sheets. She is the only dog I know that actually watches TV and understands what's on. She barks at the dogs or any other animal. She has a weakness for perfume and "nice" smells. If there is a magazine with perfume samples in it she will pull it on the floor and roll around on it until it's in tatters. I haven't finished a Cosmo in months. She loves to get in the shower once we're finished and rub herself against the walls, enjoying the smell of soap and shampoo. She is a wacko. She is my baby. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a dog. She greets me at the front door every night, totally enthralled with the idea that I'm home and she will be able to follow me all over the house as I do my nightly chores. Then as I settle down on the couch to watch TV shows, she bypasses her comfortable, very expensive dog bed to lie at my feet or on my feet if they happen to be on the floor. She has to be near me at all times. Sometimes it drives me up the wall. Especially if she decides to curl up at my feet like a speedbump while I'm cooking on the stove.
It was during her yearly wellness appointment, 2 days before Thanksgiving that I got the news. She has liver cancer. The vet was almost in tears (he just lost his dog last year to the same thing) as he told me she's got maybe 3 months or so. In my typical stone faced emotionless expression that hits me when I get bad news, I started peppering him with straight questions: What can I do to make her more comfortable? Is she in pain? When do I know that it's "that time"? He regarded me with curiosity as I seemingly digested this news as if I was receiving a diagnosis on a problem with my car. He seems alarmed that I wasn't crying and flailing about. I was in business mode. There was no way I was going to break down in front of him.
I was fine for the next hour as I casually went to the market, picked up the Thanksgiving turkeys and drove home. Little Lab was with me the whole time, dancing around in the backseat, thrilled to be on a car ride. It wasn't until I got home that I lost it. She had wore herself out at the vet and in the car and had settled herself down in her dog bed to rest. Still dressed in my work suit and heels, I fell to my knees in her bed, dragged her into my lap and sobbed and sobbed for what seemed like hours. She looked at me with her hazy old lady eyes that have still have eagle-eye vision and seemed confused. Why was I carrying on this way and why wasn't I running around the house doing chores so she could be under my feet?
It's been a few weeks and she's shows no sign of stopping. She's still a huge pain in my ass and gets into everything all the time. But, now instead of yelling at her, TH and I just tisk tisk and let it pass by. On Thanksgiving she ate more turkey than we did and we no longer worry about giving her too much cheese (too much dairy isn't good for dogs). Her kibble days are no longer and she will be eating homemade food from now on. She's allowed to lounge on the incredibly expensive leather couch and always overstays her welcome on the bed. She has carte blanche on everything. I know her time is short and let her do whatever she wants.
I dread the day that it all will end. Even more, I dread how my reaction will effect my guys in the office. Not one of them is "dog" person, so no one will be able to understand how on that day my whole world will fall apart and it is more than likely I will have to take the entire day off. I'm sure that "It's just a dog" will be floating around as my absence is noticed and explained. I dread the false sympathy and the curious looks.
'Cause she's not just a dog to us, she's our family.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
I'm Grown up..and Apparently Forgetful Too!
Only BadAss caught my faux pas on yesterdays post. It was suppose to be a list of 25 things that made me a grown up and I only listed 12. I really hope that isn't a sign of things to come. Am I really THAT old that I'm forgetful? Or, is there a slight possibility that I was posting with my head up my ass. Hmmm.
The Rest of The 25 Things That Tell Me I'm Old
13. Your car insurance payments go down and your car payments go up. When I married TH I had to add him to my car insurance. He's had a "few" speeding tickets. My insurance went up $600/year. I was not pleased.
14. You feed your dog real dog food instead of leftover McDonald's. My dog has been in the most expensive dog food since she was born. If I fed her McDonald's she would gas me outta the house.
15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt. The only time I can sleep on the couch is if I'm totally exhausted. Right now might be a good time. Besides, we have the king of all sectionals. It is enormous and leather. I like it better than the bed.
16. You take naps. All the time. Mostly, they're involuntary. I'll wake up and the book I've been reading is on my face.
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the start of one. I'm lucky if I can get Big K to go out at all. He can be such a slug. If we go for a coffee I'm happy
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 am would severely upset rather than settle your stomach. If I am up at 3 am, I'm gonna find something better than chicken wings to eat.
19. You go to the drug store for aspirin and antacids rather than condoms and pregnancy tests. ....and birth control pills, makeup, face cream, etc.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "Pretty Good Shit". Hey, my favorite bottle of Merlot is $12.00. Some of those expensive wines suck.
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time. I love breakfast. I could eat it anytime. Breakfast burritos are the perfect food.
22. "I can't drink the way I use to" replaces "I'm never gonna drink that much again". Both of those phrases apply to me. I never learn from them, though.
23. 90% of the time you spend on the phone is for real work. Sure....yeah....right....ummm....that's true.
24. You drink at home to save money at the bar. Drinking at home is the warm up before going to the bar.
25. When a friend says she's pregnant, you say "Congratulations" instead of "Oh Shit, What happened". Again...I am reminded that I have no friends. I'm pathetic.
There you go! Head removed from ass and I have finished!
The Rest of The 25 Things That Tell Me I'm Old
13. Your car insurance payments go down and your car payments go up. When I married TH I had to add him to my car insurance. He's had a "few" speeding tickets. My insurance went up $600/year. I was not pleased.
14. You feed your dog real dog food instead of leftover McDonald's. My dog has been in the most expensive dog food since she was born. If I fed her McDonald's she would gas me outta the house.
15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt. The only time I can sleep on the couch is if I'm totally exhausted. Right now might be a good time. Besides, we have the king of all sectionals. It is enormous and leather. I like it better than the bed.
16. You take naps. All the time. Mostly, they're involuntary. I'll wake up and the book I've been reading is on my face.
17. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the start of one. I'm lucky if I can get Big K to go out at all. He can be such a slug. If we go for a coffee I'm happy
18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 am would severely upset rather than settle your stomach. If I am up at 3 am, I'm gonna find something better than chicken wings to eat.
19. You go to the drug store for aspirin and antacids rather than condoms and pregnancy tests. ....and birth control pills, makeup, face cream, etc.
20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "Pretty Good Shit". Hey, my favorite bottle of Merlot is $12.00. Some of those expensive wines suck.
21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time. I love breakfast. I could eat it anytime. Breakfast burritos are the perfect food.
22. "I can't drink the way I use to" replaces "I'm never gonna drink that much again". Both of those phrases apply to me. I never learn from them, though.
23. 90% of the time you spend on the phone is for real work. Sure....yeah....right....ummm....that's true.
24. You drink at home to save money at the bar. Drinking at home is the warm up before going to the bar.
25. When a friend says she's pregnant, you say "Congratulations" instead of "Oh Shit, What happened". Again...I am reminded that I have no friends. I'm pathetic.
There you go! Head removed from ass and I have finished!
Monday, December 8, 2008
OMG, I'm a Grown Up
This list was sent to me by Surfer Dude. I'm not sure he was rubbing it in my face that I'm a bit older (4 years) than him or if he is still doing all this . His adorable girlfriend says that his life should be titled "The Adventures of Man-Boy".
Anywhoo....this is a bit light for a Monday. I'm sure I scared everyone with my coochie story last Friday. I need something a bit blah today. It's fucking 15 degrees out here with a windchill of minus 0. Winter on Cape Cod, baby!
25 Ways to Tell If Your a Grown Up
1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them. I never grew pot but an ex boyfriend did. My houseplants are sort of alive when I remember to water them. I'm convinced that the ones that die have committed suicide.
2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question. I will have sex ANYWHERE. But, TH is a big guy and I'm not a petite little thing so a twin bed is a challenge. But, ya'll know me! I love a challenge.
3. You keep more food in the fridge than beer. I have a beer fridge in the garage. I'm a smart grown up.
4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed. I'm working out so hard these days I'm lucky if I can make it until 11:00 pm. It is a rare night when I'm up super late and it's usually because I'm checking on blogs.
5. You hear your favorite song in the elevator. I was brought up on every kind of music. I was a violinist and I'm sure I was one of the only 12 year olds that listened to Madonna and Glen Miller. I still do!
6. You watch the weather channel. I HATE the weather channel! TH puts it on all the time and it's like fingernails on a chalk board to me.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up." I don't have any friends. I'm probably the oldest living woman who has never been a bridesmaid or a maid of honor. I got teary eyed when I watched "27 Dresses". I was so jealous of her.
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14. Try 2 days. I have taken two full day off from work this year.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as dressed up. I only have 3 pairs of shows that aren't heels (not counting flip flops). I am always dressed up now.
10. You're the one calling the police because those fucking kids next door won't turn down the stereo. My neighbors play the drums and guitar. But, we don't complain. We're pretty loud too. I have called the police when the neighbors son has a party. He's an asshole. A 20 year old guy that lives with his parents and mooches off of them. He's friends were parked all over my front lawn.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you. Only my grandmother does this. Everyone else still treats me like I'm 6. My mother sometimes makes the comment "Are you old enough to be drinking that, young lady?" when she sees me drinking wine. It's sad.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore. I've never been to Taco Bell. I'm a Mexican food snob. But, there's not much I won't do for a Big Mac at 2:00 AM.
I'm such an old fart. Happy friggin' Monday!
Anywhoo....this is a bit light for a Monday. I'm sure I scared everyone with my coochie story last Friday. I need something a bit blah today. It's fucking 15 degrees out here with a windchill of minus 0. Winter on Cape Cod, baby!
25 Ways to Tell If Your a Grown Up
1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them. I never grew pot but an ex boyfriend did. My houseplants are sort of alive when I remember to water them. I'm convinced that the ones that die have committed suicide.
2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question. I will have sex ANYWHERE. But, TH is a big guy and I'm not a petite little thing so a twin bed is a challenge. But, ya'll know me! I love a challenge.
3. You keep more food in the fridge than beer. I have a beer fridge in the garage. I'm a smart grown up.
4. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed. I'm working out so hard these days I'm lucky if I can make it until 11:00 pm. It is a rare night when I'm up super late and it's usually because I'm checking on blogs.
5. You hear your favorite song in the elevator. I was brought up on every kind of music. I was a violinist and I'm sure I was one of the only 12 year olds that listened to Madonna and Glen Miller. I still do!
6. You watch the weather channel. I HATE the weather channel! TH puts it on all the time and it's like fingernails on a chalk board to me.
7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "break up." I don't have any friends. I'm probably the oldest living woman who has never been a bridesmaid or a maid of honor. I got teary eyed when I watched "27 Dresses". I was so jealous of her.
8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14. Try 2 days. I have taken two full day off from work this year.
9. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as dressed up. I only have 3 pairs of shows that aren't heels (not counting flip flops). I am always dressed up now.
10. You're the one calling the police because those fucking kids next door won't turn down the stereo. My neighbors play the drums and guitar. But, we don't complain. We're pretty loud too. I have called the police when the neighbors son has a party. He's an asshole. A 20 year old guy that lives with his parents and mooches off of them. He's friends were parked all over my front lawn.
11. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you. Only my grandmother does this. Everyone else still treats me like I'm 6. My mother sometimes makes the comment "Are you old enough to be drinking that, young lady?" when she sees me drinking wine. It's sad.
12. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore. I've never been to Taco Bell. I'm a Mexican food snob. But, there's not much I won't do for a Big Mac at 2:00 AM.
I'm such an old fart. Happy friggin' Monday!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
A Trip to Brazil by Way of Germany
I've often screamed at the top of my lungs about my love for the Brazilian bikini wax. It's not the pain I love, you naughty people. But, the after effects. So imagine the dismay and panic when my Brazilian Queen of Pain fell off the radar and I was without someone to tidy my lady bits. This is the same type of pain one might feel when their favorite hairdresser takes off. Hmmm...there's a bit of similarity here. Hair? I know that I have seemed obsessed with crotches lately; mine, David Lee Roth's stunt double, the girl with the frontal wedge etc. But, whattaya gonna do? I'm a bit perverse like that.
So, I'm freaking out and call the spa to see if there is someone else who can help me. This isn't like picking a new hairdresser off the floor of a salon. This person is going to be pouring lava hot wax on my Hoo Ha. I need to make sure he/she is a professional and won't scar my most favorite part of my body.
The owner of the spa assures me she has someone who is even better than the Queen of Pain. I booked an appointment and waited impatiently for the day to come. I was running a week behind on appointments and was feeling a bit like Chewbacca. I was doing the best I could not to mess with it myself. Number One rule in Brazilian Waxing: Don't shave. Do not touch it or all the years of hard work will go down the drain. Every time I showered, I looked longingly at my Venus razor.
Monday was the day and I left work early (read: 5PM, but I came back after) and beat a path down to the spa. It was at this time I met The Wax Natzi.
I'm not kidding you. This isn't a clever little nickname that I have come up with. This is the title she goes by and is PROUD if it. She is a 57 year old lady from Germany and even though she came to the USA twelve years ago, she still speaks with the thickest Germany accent. Accents are like kryptonite for me. I cannot understand them and just ordering Chinese food requires an interpreter.
Now I'm shut in a room with this women and I can only understand her when she speaks in short sentences and speaks slowly. This was going to be a long appointment.
She turns to me as she's mixing up the wax and says "Take all off"
I looked at her and said, "I'll I have to do is lift my skirt up. I don't wear underwear and these are thigh highs"
"Oh, you are sexy girl! Good Good! Get up on table"
Did she just call me sexy? Hmmm. I'm gonna mark that one down as her being European and accepting. Most people think I'm a tramp for going pantiless and wearing thigh highs and garters on an ordinary day. Hey, it makes me feel good! I'm wearing a business suit or professional outfit over it. No one knows that I'm outfitted like a cheap hooker underneath. Well, maybe a cheap hooker who shops at Victoria's Secret for classy stuff.
She starts the torture and I'm waiting for the first rip. That's usually the worst and you get use to it after that. I waited and waited; I felt movement but no pain. I peeked down and saw she was already a 1/4 of the way done. Damn this women was good! She was chatting away at top speed and I was only getting every other word or so. I'm pretty sure she was dissing the job done by the Queen of Pain. Oh well, every one's a critic. I started to tune her out until I heard this:
"You have very nice one. I see lots. You be happy with what God give you."
Okay, I'm pretty sure she just gave me a comment on my box. How do you respond to something like that? It's not like I'm with a guy and he's giving me a compliment. This is a 57 year old women who is spending more time down there than my doctor and being just as invasive. She is going places that the Queen of Pain didn't and still chatting away giving me advice.
"Every women should be Lover to her man and Whore."
Oh........My......God! What is up with this women? I'm liking how she's tending to me down south, but sex advice? This was unreal. Then she asks me the ultimate question:
"How often you and husband make a love. He like you do this, yes?"
I am staring up at her in shock. This wasn't a girlfriend or one of the guys at the office asking invasive questions. She had her hand on my cooter and was asking about my love life.
"Umm. Yeah, he likes it. We do alright." I'm all for talking about my sex life and anything else, but not when someone is doing reconnaissance on my nether regions.
"You very healthy girl. Take good care of self." she said as she was twisting me into impossible positions and getting so close to me I could feel her breath on my skin. She was attacking me with tweezers now and I was trying not to yelp in pain.
"Thank" I said between deep breaths, trying not to squirm and scream. "I try to eat well and exercise as much as possible"
She popped her head up and looked me straight in the eye, shaking the tweezers at me. "Never eat late at night. But if you do, make love for one hour after to rid calories from body"
"I'll remember that" I said. I was afraid not to agree with her. She had tweezers and I was naked from the waste down.
"Okay! I finished!" She said and grabbed a mirror. "You look"
I thought she meant for me to look at the job she did on my eyebrows. I looked and nodded my approval. It was a great job. Probably the best ever.
"No No" she took the mirror from my hands, grabbed my ankles and swung my legs over my head. "You look here. I do nice job. All perfect now, yes?"
Hello.......do I feel violated now? YES! To appease her I peeked around my legs and looked in the mirror. I was having flash backs of my junior high school years. After reading "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" I did the mirror trick to see what everything looked like. Here I was in a spa with the Wax Natzi checking out my de-pelted beaver.
It was perfect. She did an amazing job. It only took an hour and much humiliation on my part. But, it was perfect.
I rebooked again for 3 weeks. What's a little humiliation and German sex advice to keep me from being perfect.
So, I'm freaking out and call the spa to see if there is someone else who can help me. This isn't like picking a new hairdresser off the floor of a salon. This person is going to be pouring lava hot wax on my Hoo Ha. I need to make sure he/she is a professional and won't scar my most favorite part of my body.
The owner of the spa assures me she has someone who is even better than the Queen of Pain. I booked an appointment and waited impatiently for the day to come. I was running a week behind on appointments and was feeling a bit like Chewbacca. I was doing the best I could not to mess with it myself. Number One rule in Brazilian Waxing: Don't shave. Do not touch it or all the years of hard work will go down the drain. Every time I showered, I looked longingly at my Venus razor.
Monday was the day and I left work early (read: 5PM, but I came back after) and beat a path down to the spa. It was at this time I met The Wax Natzi.
I'm not kidding you. This isn't a clever little nickname that I have come up with. This is the title she goes by and is PROUD if it. She is a 57 year old lady from Germany and even though she came to the USA twelve years ago, she still speaks with the thickest Germany accent. Accents are like kryptonite for me. I cannot understand them and just ordering Chinese food requires an interpreter.
Now I'm shut in a room with this women and I can only understand her when she speaks in short sentences and speaks slowly. This was going to be a long appointment.
She turns to me as she's mixing up the wax and says "Take all off"
I looked at her and said, "I'll I have to do is lift my skirt up. I don't wear underwear and these are thigh highs"
"Oh, you are sexy girl! Good Good! Get up on table"
Did she just call me sexy? Hmmm. I'm gonna mark that one down as her being European and accepting. Most people think I'm a tramp for going pantiless and wearing thigh highs and garters on an ordinary day. Hey, it makes me feel good! I'm wearing a business suit or professional outfit over it. No one knows that I'm outfitted like a cheap hooker underneath. Well, maybe a cheap hooker who shops at Victoria's Secret for classy stuff.
She starts the torture and I'm waiting for the first rip. That's usually the worst and you get use to it after that. I waited and waited; I felt movement but no pain. I peeked down and saw she was already a 1/4 of the way done. Damn this women was good! She was chatting away at top speed and I was only getting every other word or so. I'm pretty sure she was dissing the job done by the Queen of Pain. Oh well, every one's a critic. I started to tune her out until I heard this:
"You have very nice one. I see lots. You be happy with what God give you."
Okay, I'm pretty sure she just gave me a comment on my box. How do you respond to something like that? It's not like I'm with a guy and he's giving me a compliment. This is a 57 year old women who is spending more time down there than my doctor and being just as invasive. She is going places that the Queen of Pain didn't and still chatting away giving me advice.
"Every women should be Lover to her man and Whore."
Oh........My......God! What is up with this women? I'm liking how she's tending to me down south, but sex advice? This was unreal. Then she asks me the ultimate question:
"How often you and husband make a love. He like you do this, yes?"
I am staring up at her in shock. This wasn't a girlfriend or one of the guys at the office asking invasive questions. She had her hand on my cooter and was asking about my love life.
"Umm. Yeah, he likes it. We do alright." I'm all for talking about my sex life and anything else, but not when someone is doing reconnaissance on my nether regions.
"You very healthy girl. Take good care of self." she said as she was twisting me into impossible positions and getting so close to me I could feel her breath on my skin. She was attacking me with tweezers now and I was trying not to yelp in pain.
"Thank" I said between deep breaths, trying not to squirm and scream. "I try to eat well and exercise as much as possible"
She popped her head up and looked me straight in the eye, shaking the tweezers at me. "Never eat late at night. But if you do, make love for one hour after to rid calories from body"
"I'll remember that" I said. I was afraid not to agree with her. She had tweezers and I was naked from the waste down.
"Okay! I finished!" She said and grabbed a mirror. "You look"
I thought she meant for me to look at the job she did on my eyebrows. I looked and nodded my approval. It was a great job. Probably the best ever.
"No No" she took the mirror from my hands, grabbed my ankles and swung my legs over my head. "You look here. I do nice job. All perfect now, yes?"
Hello.......do I feel violated now? YES! To appease her I peeked around my legs and looked in the mirror. I was having flash backs of my junior high school years. After reading "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" I did the mirror trick to see what everything looked like. Here I was in a spa with the Wax Natzi checking out my de-pelted beaver.
It was perfect. She did an amazing job. It only took an hour and much humiliation on my part. But, it was perfect.
I rebooked again for 3 weeks. What's a little humiliation and German sex advice to keep me from being perfect.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Fat Ass Update, Guesting and an Anniversary.
I am guesting today over at Half As Good As You. Casey, the HASAY goddess and diet dominatrix was asking for guest posts. I obliged because I just love her like that. Check me out! Make sure you leave some abusive comments here as well so I feel loved.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but today is my two year anniversary with the firm. I know two years doesn't seem like much, but the first year without Fancy Pants was brutal. I survived the receptionist known only as the Evil C and the Dictator from Hell. Thank God both of them have since left and Fancy Pants and I now rule the kingdom. I have survived in my gilded cage and haven't committed any acts of violence toward my guys.....yet. I don't expect a parade or anything and please, cancel the strippers. However, I wouldn't shun an inflated paycheck at the end of the week and maybe a massage appointment for the middle of the week would be nice. I would like to thank my boys, especially Fancy Pants for two years of absolute hysteria. May the next year bring more panic, homicidal urges, frustration, fury, humor, laughs and love. You guys make everyday as painful as the next, but I still love ya.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but today is my two year anniversary with the firm. I know two years doesn't seem like much, but the first year without Fancy Pants was brutal. I survived the receptionist known only as the Evil C and the Dictator from Hell. Thank God both of them have since left and Fancy Pants and I now rule the kingdom. I have survived in my gilded cage and haven't committed any acts of violence toward my guys.....yet. I don't expect a parade or anything and please, cancel the strippers. However, I wouldn't shun an inflated paycheck at the end of the week and maybe a massage appointment for the middle of the week would be nice. I would like to thank my boys, especially Fancy Pants for two years of absolute hysteria. May the next year bring more panic, homicidal urges, frustration, fury, humor, laughs and love. You guys make everyday as painful as the next, but I still love ya.
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