Just another day in paradise...

Hi. Long time no talk.

2007-08-08T23:20:00.000-07:00

Ummm. Hi. ::tapping mike:: Is this thing on?

It's been a while since I have written anything. I realized it was a problem to have a "private" blog, then accidentally send the link to my boyfriends best friend. But I have been missing my blog buddies of the past. Do they still exist? I hope so.

So I shall perhaps begin to blog again, reestablish bonds with those I miss. We'll see.

A lot is happening, and I am uber excited about it. Among other things I am heading to Africa in 13 days, so life doesn't suck.

Tell me how life is going for you.

Peace.

I’m not dead...

2006-09-20T14:31:00.000-07:00

... I swear...

All hail the wild-child.

2006-08-24T14:54:00.000-07:00

The Boy and I were talking last week about how we change when we get drunk. We talked about the fact that he can get really aggressive or just pass out, whereas I turn into a wild child, and will be found dancing upon the bar… running down the road in my skivvies, or making out with any willing guy or girl… which isn’t difficult to find. I managed to prove all of these a few days ago.

The Boy and I headed to the Oregon Coast or a little day trip on Tuesday. After spending a few hours there we decided that we actually wanted to stay the night. After nearly every person we asked laughed at us when inquiring where one might be able to find a last-minute room available, we found an ocean front room (screw you naysayers!), complete with fireplace and almost any needed amenity… though we didn’t use one.

We headed to town and drank, had fun, drank, played some games at the arcade, drank… (you may see where I am going with this). Time melts over some blurry hours… but I remember skinny dipping in the ocean with this girl we met, as The Boy and her boyfriend watched from the shore. Then I kissed the girl. She is the first black girl I have ever kissed.

We then all headed back to their hotel (which was closer) where we spent a couple of hours swimming in the pool and hot tub. Mind you I didn’t bring a bikini… so I allowed my lace boy shorts and bra do the job. I fooled no one, but no one complained.

The Boy and I returned back to our hotel where I am sure we disturbed our neighbors… but gotta love a trip to the beach.

Kissing the Lipless*

2006-08-17T11:02:00.000-07:00

I spent the last few days at the cabin with The Boy. We arrived Monday night, after my last final to get away and celebrate. At the local market we purchased food for dinner as well as some beer. We were both ID’d… The checker then looked at The Boy and said, “I see you’re into older women.” I was floored with nothing witty to say back. He then followed it with, “That’s ok, I hear they know how to treat you right.” I wanted to spank that pimple-skinned prick’s face. What am I doing with The Boy? I suppose we shall find out.

But seriously... who says these things?

* Can't stop listening to this song by The Shins lately...

Girlfriend?

2006-08-10T01:15:00.000-07:00

I need to start blogging more than once a week as I have too much to say when I get around to it, and I worry it ends up being a cluster-fuck of info. Yet here I go…

Da Bod called me yesterday. It seems as though he and Lalo are hitting it off superbly. I was told to expect a “set the date” wedding invite in the mail within a few months time.

I am fine (ish) with this… I know I definitely don’t want him, and if he makes her happy, then grand. It’s still really fucking weird to me though.

I have talked with EB a few times in the last week, which has been wonderful to me. I was however asked by one friend “Do you love him enough to let him go?” and reminded by a male friend of mine, that when I call or email him to tell him that he is on my mind and that I love him, I am actually hurting him more than helping him as I don’t want to get back together.

This is tough. I do love him. I do think of him all of the time. Do I love him enough to let him go? I don’t know. I am too selfish. I can’t imagine my life without him. Time will have to tell. I just don’t want to be without him.

I was out with The Boy last night. He introduced me to a friend of his that we ran into as his “girlfriend, OCG”. I nearly shat myself. Twenty-two-year-old-boy summer fling? Shore. Boyfriend/ Girlfriend relationship? Slow the fuck down. I need to figure out how to handle this delicately.

I was teasing The Boy the other night after we had been drinking “You loooove me.” He just smiled and changed the subject. Last night just after we… you know… I mentioned “I love… [insert some sexual reference here]” He responded “I love you too… I mean that too.” Have I already gotten in over my head on this one?

Just about a year ago I was dating The Man, the vice-president of an international corporation. I lived in a penthouse in Laguna Beach and looked out on to the ocean all day long. Now I am dating (I guess that’s what I should call it?) a twenty-two year old bartender, with no aspirations in life of being more than that. I live at my mom’s house and go to school.

What the fuck is wrong with this picture?

For real, yo.

Summer days driftin' away...

2006-07-25T01:30:00.000-07:00

My blog is set to my homepage, and seeing it unchanged nearly every time I look at it is depressing me. So here I am writing something to change it a bit.

A couple of things have changed in these last weeks. EB and I are not really an item anymore. This is my fault, as the distance has grown to be too much of an obstacle for me to deal with. Of course instead of sacking up and telling him this, I kissed a boy from work and then shared that with him.

I haven’t shared that information mostly because several of EB’s friends now read this, and I felt it wasn’t their business to know. I almost started another blog, but I do not have the time or effort… so I guess we will all just have to deal.

I changed my major at school, and am hoping that is will allow me to graduate sooner, as well as spend some much needed time abroad in Africa, so I am very stoked about that. Of course, the flip side is that I will be staying at my mothers house for who-knows-how-long… I am grateful for her and her husband welcoming me… but I will be oh-so-happy when I can once again get my own place. Nothing is hotter than waiting for my mom and step dad to go out of town, so I may invite someone over without my parents being home.

I guess that’s mostly it right now…other than family camping trips, summer parties and a possible new fling, nothing much is going on over here… I’ll let you know when I heat it up.

Bartending Blues

2006-07-18T14:40:00.000-07:00

One of my very best friends sent me this email today after a hard night at work. I found it amusing... so might you.

weird crowd, weird people tonight. steady busy i guess made some great money but it was one of those nights where the money didnt even make the night worth while. i just stood back at one point and thought to myself, what am i doing here? this job is making me hate people... its making me so numb to the public. i mean it gives me insight on what people are really like but i dont know if i want to know that. between getting called a bitch too my face and being so weirded out by this one guy i was ready to throw my towel in the well and just walk out. and not walk out of anger or anything like that just walk out and not look back and i guess in a way be okay with that. never look back and i guess disappear. every night i work i learn whos involved with what or who and everything in between just because when the drunks get drunker the guard gets let down. i dont want to see the guard at all ever. its like im a huge book pf secrets on everyone in this stupid incestual town, ya know? i dont want to know whos doing who or what with who and and when and how etc.

so now u date a bartender. yeah get mad cause im irritable cause i havent slept in 2 days. i fucking drink more redbull that water and i havent eaten a normal, home cooked meal in months. i eat bacon buns at 3 am and take sleeping pills to fall asleep so i can wake up and drink coffee and more redbull to get through my next shift. so yeah im cranky. and yes i get hit on. but its not a fucking compliment nor does it appeal to me. im with you and i want to be with you. ur who i come home to and thats all that matters. yes, its sunday night and im going out for drinks. my job isnt like ur job. i start at 8pm and get off at 3am.. i work weekends so weekdays are "my weekends". layoff. no i dont get drunk at work and if i did, thats my deal not urs. im not driving and god knows im alot safer with my coworkers than the general public. i take shots. alot of them. and i dont like to say no. so like it. im going home with you. yes i know other guys at other bars. they party at my work. im social. i meet people. i dont hear u complaining when ur bill is six bucks for a a round of shots.... yeah thats what i thought. we all work in the same industry and we have that in common. no i didnt date them and no i didnt fuck them. yes they probably want to fuck me but so does ur best friend, so get over it i want you and only you. me at work and me at home are two different people. its game time and im ready to play.

and yes i get hit on alot. no its not a compliment when the person hitting on u is drooling and so drunk he just pissed his pants. yes thats really flattering. no i dont want to give u my number cause if i did, i would. and all of the sudden i might "have a boyfriend" and as far as ur concerned we are about to "get engaged" so get out of my face and let me serve u ur cocktail so i can move on with my life. oh and yes i am sure i am "the most beautiful girl you've ever seen". fuck, as far as ur concerned im ur dream girl. ie: plaid skirt, knee highs, fake boobs and serve you beer, get u drunk and send u off with all ur buddies to have "the best night ever". yeah, i bet im ur fucking dream girl. ass. but lets remember what bartending is. ITS A FUCKING JOB. and i do it to make money. so if humoring u for a few extra minutes is going to get me a great fucking tip, u might get lucky cause theres times where i really want a new pair of jeans and ur wallets got the money to make that happen. but remember asshole, there's a fucking bar between you and me and thats what makes my job that much easier. we've got a big cement barrier and thank god for that.

dont ask me for a free drink. if i want to buy you one, believe me I WILL... and if u dont have the money to tip, then u dont have the money to drink. so go back to ur cubicle and see if one of ur loans went through... then come back and talk to me.

and no i dont have the calorie content in the vodka u just ordered. sure i have sugarfree redbull... but that cactus cooler shots uve been taking all night arent low cal low carb... but who counts shots anyway right?

and ya know what boys, order a fucking beer! if i have to hear from one more orange county dipshit that "beer makes you fat" im gonna scream. be a man, have a beer, infact have 10, mow the lawn, be able to hang a picture for ur girlfriend, and stop wearing the same jeans i have, i dont care how good ur ass looks, ur a guy... u shouldnt even care .... live a littlle... EAT CARBS *gasp* i know and lay off the tanning bed, u have less tan lines than i do... i dont want to date me, i want to date you... a man... fuck burp if u have too.

i remember walking towards the server well and just thinking "my god, i cant believe the world im in right now"..." and all i want is to go into the privacy of my room, shut my door and stay there.... letting only the people i want in my life, in my life".... and at times i feel like my life is on display... people know me just because of where i work and they know what is going on in my life and whether or not i have a boyfriend and stuff like that people who dont even know my last name should never know...

and then this one guy just wouldnt quit tonight. and normally i brush off stupid dudes but this one followed me from one end of the bar to the other and wouldnt tell me what he wanted and wouldnt take the "i slept two hrs, im not getting creative " excuse and when he asked me about "how my boyfriend handles me, am i satisfied?" i turned to the other bartender and told him to help me.... so he served the asshole who then called me a bitch for ignoring him.... well thats fucking great cause when theres 50 other people who actually know what they want and who are going to tip, i might get to them a bit quicker u fucking idiot pervert. ive never felt so digusted by someone in my life and i have met some pretty big jerks. fuck.

and then its like when im busy and im "not smiling" people get on my case about being tired, bitchy, pissed off, sad, angry... u name it.... fuck do u smile everyday at ur job? NO! It's 12:30 am, i havent slept and im serving a bunch of drunks at work on a monday night... please tell me why i need to be smiling? is it going to make ur drink come out faster? no. is it going to make it taste better? no. is it going to make ur night that much better? no. will me smiling help you sleep at night? fuck no. and is it going to make u tip better? no. because i could smile all god damn day and the tips are pretty much gonna be the same.... im busy, im sweaty, im tired, im hungry, im soaking wet, i smell, my feet are wet, my hands are cut up, ill probably get bar rot and i have lemon in my hair.... FUCK YOU for telling me to smile. you go effing smile cause all i want is to make ur drinks and get ur money! now if its a nice sunday afternoon and im not slammed, sure ill fucking smile for you if it makes u feel THAT much better... hey i might even laugh at ur retarded jokes and maybe even humor ur bad pick up lines but when its busy and my sock are soacked to my knees, this bitch aint smilin' and u can like it... ill pass on ur 50 cent tip if i can move u along and get to the poor smuck behind you....

and when i do get to you, know what the fuck u want. this isnt ur last drink and if it is, ill buy it for u if it makes u decide quicker. and i promise u that if i pour u a coors light and tell u its bud light ull never know the damn differenceand no EVEN YOU cant tell. fuck. i dont want to make u a damn lemon drop when im busy and i wont make u a mojito. ever. so if thats what u fancy, walk ur fat ass over to the fucking cannery and have them muddle some damn mint. and no i dont have a blender and yes i am happy about that because at one point in my life i had nightmares that we were getting one. fucking nightmares about a blender. jesus.

"i want one red headed slut, one jager bomb, one washington apple, one wet pussy and one chocolate cake. oh and one bud light bottle, one bud light draft and a vodka grapfruit. oh and a mind eraser. " "and can u put each one on a seperate card and close us all out?now?"

sure u fucking dumbass. and while im at it, ill drop ur lemon wedge on the floor, give u a dirty glass and and underpour all ur stupid fucking drinks and shots because if ur going to be selfish idiot than so am i. the difference is i know im being a douchebag, u on the otherhand think its okay to make my life a living hell. last time i checked, this wasnt fucking the four season and no u cant have it ur way everytime. and by the way a "tall" means more juice, not more alcohol u fucking shithead.... u think a bar would just "not charge you" for an extra ounce of vodka. dumbass. so when u "cant taste the alcohol" that because u got more juice nitwit! and if u want a strong or "stiff" cocktail, order a double and tip me well... ill remember either way and i will remember.. plus tell all the other bartenders what a jackass u are so a.we can laugh at you b. not serve u unless ur the last person standing at the bar and all the dishes are done and the bar is stocked and ive taken a long ass break, checked my phone and done my makeup... kids, a good tip goes a LOOONNGGG way. as does not being a complete social reject but hey no ones perfect right?

no i dont care about ur problems. i dont care that ur such a drunk ur wife divorced u and moved to idaho with ur 3 kids. i dont care that u havent slept cause u were on a 4 day coke binge in mexico with 20 of ur closest buddies who all where button down white collared shirts, seven jeans, square toed shoes, a watch theyy saved 10 years for, a bmw they lease but live out of cause the payments are so high theycant afford rent and there commission check hasnt come in from Lending Tree....i.dont.care. and u shouldnt care what i do, WHAT CAR MY BOYFRIEND DRIVES (a pinto) and why i am not smiling today. oh and u arent doing me a favor by tipping me huge (read: $3 on $20 ... wow big spender jack ass!) because i guarantee ive been around more money than coke has been up ur nose and i dont care. ur "big tip" isnt fucking saving me. im not bartending cause im some broke chick with 20 kids from 20 guys waiting around to meet "the one" when he stumbles in friday night for his 10th drink that night. i bartend because when all the douche bags are too hung over to see the outside of their bedroom, its acutally quite fun.... i have met some pretty rad people and the people i work with are fucking amazing. u can meet some hardworking and down to earth people in the restaurant business and those are the people that come in and act like human beings.... industry people are the best. easygoing and they scratch our back and we scratch theirs. its a fucking family.

alright, im over this night.... but wow i feel so much better... kind of went of on a tangent, but i definitly feel better... i may do this more often! GOOD NIGHT... errr Good Morning!

Fox

2006-07-14T01:35:00.000-07:00

At the end of last summer I began partying pretty hard. You read of much of it here, but it went beyond that. In addition to the drinking I was doing nearly daily, I was also popping a lot of pills… diet pills, anxiety pills, pain pills, sleeping pills… the list goes on and on. Mind you I needed none of these, yet I continued to take them in excess… “for fun”.

Last September I was spending a lazy day nursing a hangover with a beer on my terrace and thought a few pain pills thrown in would make the day complete. I went down to my friend’s who handed me a couple three pills. Like a kid with candy, without thinking, I threw them all down my throat. My friend looked at me wide-eyed and said, “I didn’t mean for you to take those all at once. That was two Oxycontin and a Vicodin… I can’t wait to see you in fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes later I was just fine… five hours later I was not. I nearly OD’d. My body did not like the drug cocktail I took, and it did not respond well. I sat on my living room chair, dozing in and out of consciousness. I woke up gasping a couple of times because my body was forgetting to remind itself to inhale. It was scary. My roommate and friend both continued to check on me throughout the night. The next morning my roommate was still coming into my room every thirty minutes to ensure I was ok.

This situation was completely unintentional. In no way was I trying to harm myself, I was just trying to have fun. It all too often begins as just that. I slowly stopped popping a plethora of pills, and after Thanksgiving I decided I was done. I still may take a sleeping pill or pain pill when needed, but I don’t look at my tin of multi-colored pills as hours of fun.

I completely forgot about this incident last year, until today.

Fox is my little sister’s age. They went to school together growing up. It was after high school I became friends with him. We worked together at a couple of the same places. Fox and I began to hang in the same group of people. He became like my naughty little brother and I adored him for it. Fox OD’d two nights ago on Oxycontin while out to have a good night with some of his friends just before he moved to Hawaii to begin his new life.

I was so incredibly frustrated because it is so incredibly unnecessary. Then a friend reminded me how easy it was for me to do. I had forgotten. I won’t again.

I fucking hate George Bush.

2006-07-13T18:13:00.000-07:00

When is his term up... so we can spend the next 100 years undoing all of the crap that he began.

A week in the life…

2006-07-13T01:52:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to write several times during this last week, however every time, I don’t. Krazy came into town last weekend and I hung out with her and JP for almost the entire weekend, until Sunday when I needed to head home and start doing some homework. I had copious amounts of reading to accomplish for my Business Ethics class, so much so that I have been neglectful in my other classes.

Getting home Sunday I made the dire mistake of turning on the television. “Sell This House” was having a marathon. Although I had never seen the program previously, nor do I own any property, I was glued. I once again lost about five hours of not only my life, but of valuable study time that I will never get back. However I did learn that “less is more” when staging your home for an open house... I also learned that one uses phrases such as “staging” to speak of their home when attempting to sell it.

On Monday I thought since I don’t have time anymore to write, I should try audio-blogging. Deciding that driving in my car on the way to school would be the perfect time, I called to do my first entry. I recorded my entry for a solid 7 seconds, deleted it and came to the decision maybe I shouldn’t.

Several inherent things are wrong with this idea. Aofall, I know I am not the only one to get fairly agitated when driving, especially in Oregon.* I would hate for you all to think that this entire time of blogging I was hiding a horrible case of Tourette’s Syndrome as you heard me randomly yell “stupid cunt”.

This brings us to problem two. I curse, at times a lot. I know many of you read my blog while at work, so if you actually had the time and the speakers to listen to me, your boss doesn’t need to hear “cunt” pouring through your office.

Another is the fact that I cannot edit nor downsize an audio-blog. I often go off on great random tangents. Doing so in my blog I am able to go back and delete clumps of paragraphs that really serve no purpose in my post. If I record these tangents, I will just waste too much of your time, as well as come across as a rambling idiot.

Lastly, I can write things I could never imagine myself recording. Any of the sexinoc stories that I have written would be… just wrong if I was reading them… though I believe I could possibly make some money doing that…**

All of these reasons and more, I have procrastinated even speaking a post to you.

Anyway back to school (speaking of tangents) I decided I am changing my major. I have to meet with an advisor, but I think that I will not only be much happier heading in this different direction, but I also might be able to get through school sooner than originally anticipated… but we’ll see.

I have reading and sleep calling my name. Happy Day.

* I was actually thinking of devoting an entire post as to the abundance of things wrong with Oregon drivers, but again that would require ‘posting’.
** I hadn’t thought about that until just now. As I am broke this actually doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. Paypal link anyone?

Ennui

2006-07-05T14:29:00.000-07:00

I fully realize that I have become more boring to read lately, that my blog “has changed”. My blog is merely mirroring my life. As I sat all day yesterday getting through the two-hundred pages that I had to get done for class this morning, I thought back to last year. I was living it up in SoCal, with some guy I found amazing, barbequing with him and his friends… and later hiking to the cliffs overlooking Laguna where I drunkenly made-out with one of his girlfriends. Later he and I had sex all over his house, only to wearily rise the following morning and head off to an office where I could blog about it.

Yesterday I canceled all of my plans with friends, hung out at home reading, took a nap and read some more. Last night I went to my sister’s for a barbeque and read some more, allowing her friends to think me some bland nerd that couldn’t tear herself away from a book. I finished in time to watch some fireworks, and headed home to bed. (I hope your heart isn’t racing with the excitement of my life.)

I am not complaining. I am having a good time, but then don’t find the time to write about it. Last week I went to “Thirsty Thursday” with my stepbrother (who, btw, told me, “You have a great rack”), his girlfriend, stepsister, and some other guys. We consumed cheap beer and watched a baseball game, until they did last call in the seventh inning and we decided it was time to head elsewhere.

After bar hopping we went to a club, where, when one guy didn’t understand that by continually moving away from him I was trying to get his cock off from rubbing up against me, I elbowed him in the face (not hard, but enough to let him know that he was too close). He moved away while telling me how uncool that was to do. ~~Gentlemen~~ Boys, if I am not dancing back with you and your little hard on is pushing up against me as I move away from you on the dance floor, you are lucky you got away with an elbow-to-the-face-tap.

Saturday I joined my mom and step-dad down at the Portland Waterfront for the Blues Festival. They had decided it would be easier to rent a room in the hotel across the street for the weekend (and use nice bathroom vs. port-a-potties) then to drive home each day. I joined them there, ran into a few friends whom I spent a good portion of the afternoon with, and proceeded to get wasted on (again) the consumption of far too much beer.

I also proceeded to pass out (while wearing a little skirt and tank top) on the blanket near my parents (after my friends had left), thankful that my mother was gracious enough to cover me up, so my flower wasn’t exposed to the world. I made it as far home as their hotel room. Sunday morning I woke up a little fuzzy as to where I was, and upon the realization, I was mortified that the newly-wed couple (my mom and step-dad) can’t even get free time away in a hotel without me crashing it. Joyful.

But none of this is the fun and games of my frivolity of last year, my weekends filled with Topless on the Terrace parties, hanging with wild and crazy friends, partying, and coming home with naughty sex stories to share with you.

I am bit more bland, more boring…

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

2006-06-29T00:30:00.000-07:00

Find out what it means to me.

You know when you get to that point in your life you have much to say, but can’t seem to get it all out? Yep, that’s me right about now.

I started school Monday, in the midst of a hot spell… I loved the 100+ degree weather… it was soothing to my soul and reminded me of better days cruising through Palm Springs. But, alas, I was instead sitting unfocused in various Business Ethics [insert oxymoron joke here] and Black Studies classes.

As much reading as I have to accomplish, and the fact that my Business class already had an exam (yes, in the second class of the term, gorgeous I tell you), really school isn’t the biggest concern on my mind this last week.

I received a phone call at 3am Sunday morning while I was writing my “woe is me” post. I didn’t initially hear the phone ring, but when seeing it was Da Bod I decided to call him back.

I hadn’t spoken with Da Bod since I left Laguna Beach. At my “going away” he went down to have a smoke with Lalo and didn’t return to my apartment for the remainder of the night. One of my last nights in town, he didn’t say good-bye to me and slept with my “best friend”.

The guy that 18 months ago I was convinced I was going to have a future with… and my “best friend” fucked him. I was pissed. It’s not like this was a surprising reaction either. The last two male friends of mine I had brought around her, she ended up hooking up with. I would normally not mind, but she did this without even discussing any of it with me. I told her (both times) I just needed communication about these things, and to not be surprised about them.

Regardless of how personal you like to keep your life, if you begin talking, emailing, corresponding, dating, sleeping or just sucking the cock of anyone that you might have met through me, you better fucking give me a heads up about it, prior to it happening.

I require loyalty from my friends. I will be true-blue loyal to you until the end if you pay me that courtesy in return. I will lie by your hospital bed side for weeks. I sat with Lalo for weeks that became months through tears and anger while she got over her ex. That is what a friend does.

Da Bod has made several comments over the last year about how I needed to introduce him to one of my girlfriends after he followed me to SoCal. I never would, and I told him that I wouldn’t. I explained to him that none of my friends would hook-up with him anyway, no friend of mine would. That’s what friends do. Exes are completely off-limits.

So I called Da Bod back in the wee hours of Sunday morning. He was laughing and said that he was just hanging out at Lalo’s (“Yep, we’re hanging out, surprise!”). I told him I had to go and immediately got off the phone. I was sick to my stomach. I have no desire to be with Da Bod ever again, however I don’t want my friends fucking him. I don’t think that is too much to ask.

Monday I [*gasp*] left my phone over at JP’s. It was too late to return and get it, and as I had school near her Tuesday morning I figured I would just go and pick it up then. JP called me that night and said that Da Bod had called. She was pissed about the situation between him and Lalo and said that she wanted to text him back “lose my phone number”. I thought it funny and told her to go ahead.

She didn’t answer my phone for the remainder of the night, even though he called countless times before she turned it off. I had seven voicemail messages and a couple text messages when I retrieved my phone the following afternoon. Lying out by the pool JP and I listened to the messages that rapidly downward spiraled from “What the fuck was that about, I am going to call you until you answer” and “We don’t understand why you are acting this way” [they are a “we” already?] to “If you are in bed and that’s why you are not answering your phone, then fine… but if you know I am calling and you are ignoring me, then you are being fucking stupid and fuck you.” The joys of prescription pill popping and drinking… the insanity that I don’t miss, at all.

One of the last messages he left me was left late Tuesday morning. “I woke up on the toilet after passing out there for three hours, and Lalo was passed out sitting upright on her couch. Isn’t that funny?” Nothing reminds me more that I am over him than hearing that he, while 30, is still blowing up his Monday nights trying to relive the college days he never finished. (I can talk down about not finishing college since I have been in school for a solid three days now.)

Last night around midnight he sent a text to me, while I was trying to prepare for my morning exam, “I have talked to my family and they are very disappointed in you, as am I”.

I finally called him for the first time this morning. I was shaking as I left a message telling him that he needed mental help with his drug induced state, but I never even had my phone the other evening as he left the abundance of crazy messages.

He called me back and said that he should have assumed that I didn’t have my phone as I would have wanted to get this misunderstanding resolved immediately. I called him back and left a lengthy message about how pissed I actually was about him and Lalo hanging out, but they actually deserve one another if this is going to be their behavior. I added that I had no desire to rekindle this friendship and that it was over. Good-bye. I know I added some extraordinarily mature “fuck yous” and the like in the message, but I decided I could no longer have people that treated my heart so flippantly in my life.

So today I said good bye to Da Bod, who has been in my life for the last six years, and Lalo who had been a fun friend this last year. It’s just not worth it. I am loyal, but I am also not willing to be lenient with things important to me… such as basic respect. Is it really that difficult to comprehend?

La Vita è bella

2006-06-26T00:01:00.000-07:00

After looking at the last few entries I depressed myself… please do not get me wrong, I love my life. I have been having a really great time lately.

Last Tuesday I took my niece and nephews on the same route I had taken just a few weeks before to Hood River. They loved it. My youngest nephew (age 3) was so excited that he had the opportunity to go on his first hike ever. I was delighted to be able to share those moments with him.

Last Thursday I took my niece and nephews to the zoo. I had a blast.

Life is good… school begins tomorrow and as hesitant as I may be to return I am excited about finally shutting this last chapter on this portion of my life and have the opportunity to move onto the next.

Weather here has been hot and gorgeous, and I can not wait to spend countless hours basking in the cool river of my cabin (the front porch shown below with my dog Parker).

Life is grand. Truly.

Why so lonesome?

2006-06-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

I have friends who tease me that I have more friends than anyone they know. They have delved into hyperbole, but I have a good network of people in my life. Yet I feel lonely. I found this today. I guess I'm not the only one alone.

Lullaby *

2006-06-25T02:07:00.000-07:00

When you're so lonely lying in bed
Night's closed its eyes but you can't rest your head
Everyone's sleeping all through the house
You wish you could dream but forgot to somehow
Sing this lullaby to yourself
Sing this lullaby to yourself

I called my mom on my way home from work tonight. I was heading home a couple of hours earlier than I thought I would be, and (though I knew it to be late for her) called to see if she was up. She said she was, and I told her I would be home soon. I was excited to get home (and even if only for a brief moment) hang out with her and my new step-dad. I got home and the lights of the house were out, less the dim illumination escaping through the curtains of her bedroom. I was bummed.

And if you are waiting, waiting for me
Know I'll be home soon darling I guarantee
I'll be home Sunday just in one week
Dry up your tears if you start to weep
And sing this lullaby to yourself
Sing this lullaby to yourself

I went to my bedroom and saw that Beach Chic was online. I chatted with her for a bit. During that time we both lamented over the loneliness that we were feeling. Although the both of us could go out, we were stuck in the between place of desiring to do something, yet not desiring to go out. Just a basic feeling of lonely.

Beach Chic told me (referring to our friend, Natasha, whose boyfriend decided that Texas was too far away from Newport Beach and he could stand the distance no longer and moved to be with her), “Natasha has Dan… and all I have is peanut butter and jelly”.

I think we all like the place where we can do nothing with someone and it becomes something.

Lullaby, I'm not nearby
Sing this lullaby to yourself
Don't you cry, no don't you cry
Sing this lullaby to yourself

I am in the state that I am not feeling social, yet want someone to hang out with… just doing nothing… I am excited even to hang out with my mom and step-dad. When I realized they were in bed for the night I seriously considered calling my sister to see if my niece and nephews were still up. I know they are always down to hang out.

Cause when I arrive dear it won't be that long
No it won't seem like anytime that I've been gone
It ain't the first time it won't be the last
Won't you remember these words to help the time pass?

~~Sometimes~~ All of the time the distance in a long distance relationship can get wearing. Sometimes I don’t know if I have the patience for it. But then he calls and just the sound of his voice reminds me that I can be patient (if this LDR has taught me anything, its patience). Regardless if one year sounds longer than anything I could possibly bear, he reminds me we will be fine, and I know everything will be.

So when you're so lonely lying in bed
Night's closed it's eyes but you can't rest your head
Everyone's sleeping all through the house
You wish you could dream but forgot to somehow
Sing this lullaby, sing this lullaby
Sing this lullaby to yourself

Beach Chic grabbed her peanut butter and jelly sandwich… I grabbed a Black Butte Porter... crawling into bed I sang this lullaby to myself.

* Jack Johnson featuring Matt Costa, "Lullaby"

A Day in the Life…

2006-06-21T14:59:00.000-07:00

Having had a “real” job for years, I haven’t had as much free time available during the day as I have had since I left Laguna. ~~Most~~ Some people might fill up their time with important activities, such as housework or going to the gym. I am not one of those people. I have, however, found things important to me to do to consume my time.

I am not one of those people who sleep the day away. I am generally awake between eight and nine in the morning, even when working late the night before. Sure, part of this has to do with Beach Chic calling me nearly every morning bright and early, but mostly I hate sleeping my day away.

I have found TV is a fabulous way to waste the day away. Sometimes for the worst. I refuse to watch any “talk shows”. I didn’t even know that Jerry Springer or Maury Provich were still on TV until last week. It’s comforting to know that poor parenting will ensure a television slot for that style of show for years to come. As far as I am concerned they are much too stressful for me to even watch a moment of.

I have instead become addicted to The History Channel. My days have been filled with historical information from everything about the history of nails (did you know that settlers moving west would burn down their houses so they could they could salvage the nails, as they were such a precious commodity?), to distilled spirits and beer, to the Mongols and Vikings, to now watching “Opus Dei, Unveiled”.

Here TLC and The History Channel are next to one another. During most of the programs I watch “A Baby Story” is being featured on repeat on the neighboring station. I will occasionally flip the station over. This has led to a slow evolution (ok, it only took about a week) into being too horrified into never having children.

It started off seeing a small moment when a woman was in the throes of giving birth. Later talking to EB, I made it clear that I will be having a c-section (keeps the flower tight anyway, so he had no arguments). Then today a woman was describing in detail exactly how a contraction felt… I think adoption is a beautiful idea.

This afternoon I grabbed the hula hoop I bought last week and decided to give it a whirl. I used to be able to spend hours hula hooping. I warmed up by moving my waist and hips in an alternating circular motion, stepped into the center of the hoop, and gave it a spin … only to watch the hula hoop wind its way down to the floor. With a few more practice spins, I actually got it to stay up for a bit. And by “a bit” I mean maybe ten seconds. I will get it down (or, rather, get it to stay up), I swear. And someone told me I would hurt myself. Pishaw.

As you can see, I am being very productive with all of this free time I have during my days… I don’t know how I will possibly fit school into my daily schedule beginning next week. Perhaps I should rethink my priorities. After all, The History Channel is quite educational.

Poppy

2006-06-20T11:22:00.002-07:00

I was talking the other day about how much my blog has suffered with my new job. No longer having nine hours a day at work to spend on the computer and my evenings spent working, I don’t have the time to write much anymore, let alone read blogs. When I have posted, I no longer write, but merely post pictures… but it’s what I can do as of late.

This weekend was a typical Father’s Day, working in a restaurant, weekend. My time scheduled in for work on Sunday changed four times in a twenty-four hour period. This created problems as I also wanted to have the opportunity to celebrate the day with Poppy (my dad).

Originally, I was scheduled to come in at noon. It was planned that I would have Father’s Day breakfast with my step-dad and all of his kids and my sisters at 8am, go to work at noon, and then have a barbeque with my father for dinner.

I was then told that I was going to have to work a double, so I called my father and told him I would be getting off work later that evening, but would probably still be able to come over around eight or nine Sunday night. Then my manager told me Saturday night around ten o’clock that my time in was changed to five the following evening. This ruined my plans with my dad.

As people started arriving for brunch Sunday morning, my youngest sister had the audacity to have my father drop her off* for my stepfather’s breakfast, which was being held at my mother’s house. I went outside to say hello to him. He had brought my dog, Parker. I played with Parker and chatted with my dad for about fifteen minutes.

We planned for lunch later this week due to my shitty work schedule and I headed inside. As I was walking in, my father said that he had seen signs for Father’s Day brunches around and thought he would take himself out to breakfast.

Father’s Day morning and Poppy was going to have to resort to spending the morning by himself, while his children celebrated with his ex-wife’s new husband. He would sit alone in the corner of some restaurant while children adorned their father with the love deserved of a hard job, well done. I went into the house, lost trying to hold back the waterworks, and burst into tears.

I immediately called my father to see if he would go to breakfast with me. He didn’t answer. As always I delved into hyperbole. Roaming through my mind were pictures of my father crying as he drove away from my mom’s house, unable and unwilling to answer the phone so I wouldn’t know how upset he was.

Instead, apparently he had left his mobile at home and had stopped off at the store on the way there. So no tears were being shed, but instead dog biscuits were being purchased. Upon getting home he returned my numerous calls and we were able to go have breakfast together. It was wonderful to be able to spend time with him in on Father’s Day. It was the most I have seen him since I have returned home, and the longest conversation I have had with him in years.

While sitting there listening to my father discuss work and different things going on in his life, I looked at him for the first time as an aging man, not my dad. I was so incredibly glad to have these moments to spend with him. I pray I never take time with my Poppy for granted again. Sitting here today, I am sure had I not gone to breakfast it would have been one of the biggest regrets of my life.

I don’t know how long I plan on staying in Portland, but I do know that I will try and savor the time I have here with my family as much as I can.

* My youngest sister is a long story… perhaps I shall share the drama some day.

Beach-ing

2006-06-16T12:14:00.000-07:00

With a day off yesterday I headed to the Oregon Coast with my niece and nephews. It was an awesome day. At Cannon Beach* they had fun flying kites and playing in the water. (Why is it regardless of the temperature children will frolic in the ocean, when every adult near by has multiple layers on?) The day began a little rainy and cold, in the afternoon was nice enough for me to get a bit burnt, and then ended again rainy and cold.

We headed in the late afternoon to the Tillamook Cheese Factory in Tillamook, Oregon. On the way there my 8 year old nephew drew a picture of me. A stick figure with crazy hair and a squiggly body, seemingly “broken” at the knees was supposed to be me. When I asked him about it he said that I had crazy hair from being at the beach all day… the squiggly body was because I was so skinny and I had broken off at the knees. This is why I love them so… childhood blindness and humor…

A day with my family is a wonderful reason to be home.

* Haystack Rock is what Cannon Beach is known for. When I was a child and Goonies came out, I was so excited to know that it was filmed here in Oregon. It was before I understood about movie sets and all, and I begged my mother to take us through the same path the Goonies went on in the movie.

At least he's circumcised *

2006-06-14T21:10:00.000-07:00

Is that a mirror in your pocket… because I can really see me in your pants… oh wait… no… that’s you I see.

Is a full length mirror really that hard to find? And are these pants really that comfortable?

* Thank you Hot Momma for the pic

Goldmember...

2006-06-13T10:20:00.000-07:00

I have been working like crazy lately, which is good because I need the money after not working for so long. It is completely different being in a strict restaurant environment (you aren’t even allowed to drink any soda without paying for it… I mean really, it’s a friggin Diet Coke, and I cold go to the store and purchase a two liter for the price they charge… but at least I am drinking more water) rather than the (laid back, chat on line all day, email in when sick, wear whatever you want, pays you at least twice what you’re making now) office I just left.

The hours take some getting used to as well, although it is probably for the best that on weekend nights I get out late, as I (less the night of my moms wedding) haven’t been out since I returned to Portland, and feel that is for the best as I need to not be in any partying frame of mind with school two weeks away.

Friday night JP called me while I was at work, asking me to stay the night (obviously her boyfriend was out of town). It was fun as I hadn’t seen her in three weeks (I really have been anti-social lately). We went shopping on Saturday and at Sephora I bought some face powder and such. I headed straight to work from her house Saturday afternoonWhen I returned home around 1am I looked in the bathroom mirror and almost screamed.

My face was orange! I looked as though I had a horrible case of jaundice. I took a shower, scrubbing my face trying to get all of the powder off. I couldn’t believe I had been at work all night with an orange face, and nobody told me. Thankfully the restaurant itself is a little darker, but all the employees in the well-lit kitchen saw and probably wondered why the new girl has Hepatitis B.

Mortified I went to bed. I arose Sunday and decided to hike to the top of Multnomah Falls. I needed to do something fun before heading into work. It only took me about twenty minutes to get to the top. It was a glorious day to do so. (The picture is looking down from over the top of the Falls, the bridge looks so small from the top.)

I returned home a got ready for work… upon looking into mirror, prior to putting any make-up on, I realized my face was still orange. Having the overactive imagination I do, I immediately thought there had to be something wrong with my liver… perhaps I was very ill and I didn’t even know it. Then I noticed it was only my face that was orange. I was baffled.

I called JP and told her what my problem was. She laughed. She informed me the face moisturizer I had used the previous day at her house was a self-tanning lotion. This dark lotion works well for her olive complexion, but on my pale (thank you Oregon) face it turned orange. Ahh, the joy.

I must be off… work is calling… and I need extra time to scour my face to try and get the last remnants exfoliated off before my shift today… and I need to make time to start going to a booth, I should be tan this time of year… not orange-faced.

Five-Oh... no... not again....

2006-06-09T02:02:00.000-07:00

My mom’s wedding pictures came in today… or rather the link to see them was emailed out, so we could all check them out virtually. After the Christmas party Beach Chic asked me if I paid the guy to take horrible pictures of me… you would think after seeing the pictures today that he had the same motive.

I wanted a different photographer, but my mother really wanted to use this guy again (he photographed her Christmas party this last year, and there we realized that he had also been the photographer for my sisters [short-lived] wedding). As it was my mom's wedding, who am I to argue…

The photographer really likes my family, so much so that as they gave the toasts just before cutting the cake, the photographer decided to give a toast as well… I knew that the Maid of Honor and the Best Man had these responsibilities…but the photographer? News to me. And news to my mother who stood there a little shocked as her photographer toasted to how much he loved this family… I mean really… but what's not to love?!?

Granted this is the same man that last Christmas took a liking to my (already married) aunt so much so, that towards the end of the evening he handed off his camera to a guest of the party so the guest could take a picture of the photographer and my aunt together. He feels very comfortable with us.

Today I had a little incident with the police. I know that I have blogged previously about getting pulled over in Laguna, and the kind officers letting me go on my way… well today almost made up for anytime that I got of the hook easily.

I was on a side street driving on my way to work this evening when I saw a motorcycle officer in the bushes ahead… unfortunately too late. I slowed a smidge, but he pulled out behind me and I pulled over. When he approached the car, I gave him my California license and explained to him that I didn’t have my registration or proof of insurance in the car.

Now you think that I would know by now where these items are (although I actually should be receiving my new Oregon insurance proof shortly), but to be honest I have no idea where the registration for my car is… I could have packed it in a box with my “important papers”… or I could have thrown it away, your guess is as good as mine… but without all the paper mess in my glove compartment I have room for my pedi kit... and we all have our priorities.

However I told the officer that I had left them both at my mother’s house, as I needed them to get information for registering my car in Oregon. To be honest with you, and you alone, I don’t plan on registering my car for a long time. My tags are good for another year, and I don’t feel like spending the money on registering it in Oregon, when I don’t even know how much longer I will live here.

Mr. Officer told me that I needed to have these items in my car and he could write fines for much more, but he wouldn’t this time, “just get those papers back in your car!” I agreed, “Yes, Sir!” and watched him walk behind my car to write the speeding ticket.

While he was back there I thought it a good opportunity to pick up my car, I had a few scattered papers and water bottles that had been bugging me so I started to pick up and get all of the garbage together. When I sat back up, I saw another police car behind me and two more officers “on the scene”. I assumed they were curious and had stopped.

I called my mom while still waiting and told her what was happening, fearing that she would be driving by on her way home. While I spoke with her two additional police cars arrived and four more policemen gathered around. At this point I freaked. I told my mom I thought I was getting arrested. I began shaking and stressing completely as over half a dozen police officers gathered behind me and several police vehicles (motorcycle, suburban and two cars) with flashing lights was all I could see in my rear view mirror.

After Mr. Officer had been behind my car for ten or fifteen minutes on his radio and assembling this congregation of officers, he began to walk towards my window, with each side of my car being flanked by two more officers. He got to my window, checked my VIN then said, “It is really important that you have your registration on you at all times. When I ran your plates they came up a stolen motorcycle from California. Make sure you go home and get that registration back in this car. Here’s your speeding ticket blah blah blah.”

I nearly shat myself. I seriously thought there was a serious fucking issue… as did every rubber-necker on the small (yet busy) two lane road I was pulled over on. I pulled away, still shaking… and hoping they didn’t notice my burnt out tail light as I left…

I worked all night and still didn’t make enough to cover the cost of the ticket… at least it’s cheaper than jail.

Cry me a river...

2006-06-07T20:07:00.000-07:00

After a horribly rough start to my morning yesterday (thank you Rusty for your help), I had had it. I will pull out my soapbox on another day to bitch, but today I will instead share how great my evening turned out to be.

My only hope prior to yesterday morning, was to take a day trip up the Gorge to Hood River. Hood River (the Wind Surfing capitol of the World) is a small town on the Columbia River that I heard is similar to Laguna in many ways. After wasting the entire day in the depths of my despair, a day trip was not obviously not possible… but decided to leave the house anyway.

At 5:30 I grabbed Amos Lee, headed for my car, and let him sing my blues away as I got on the Historic Columbia River Highway. I drove through Corbett, carefully avoiding the kids riding horseback down the highway, and came to the first vista lookout point. It was an amazing reminder as to why I moved back to this amazing part of the world.

I moved towards Multnomah Falls, briefly stopping at two of the four falls on the way. I stopped a Multnomah Falls and decided that it was too late to hike to the top, as the sun would be setting shortly, and I had only worn flip flops, not the most appropriate hiking gear.

Instead I decided to continue on to Hood River. I made it in time to see a few scattered windsurfers and kitesurfers gliding along the water. It was truly awesome. I drove through the quaint town and decided to grab a bite and a beer at the local brew pub. Afterwards I headed home…

I am so very glad that I live here, at this moment, when “getting away from it all” takes less than an hour, and a new fun community is located only an hour away. God bless the Pacific Northwest.

Misty Watered Colored Memories

2006-06-05T07:21:00.000-07:00

I choose to apply to the particular restaurant in town I am working at specifically because, among other reasons, I have worked there before and knew they would rehire me. It was my first real job, working there from when I was sixteen to twenty. Actually I truly believe that this establishment (or rather the coworkers within) was the number one reason that I went from a non-drinking good girl, to the PG-13 version you know now of me. ::wink::wink::

Having had not only a month off from all things work, but also having been a year since I last waited on tables, I was exhausted on Thursday evening, my first night training. I actually had to sit down a couple times throughout the few hours that I worked because I felt as though I was going to pass out. This is completely unlike me, and concerned me that I wasn’t going to be able to once again wait on tables. This fear subsided when I got home and realized I had a fever of nearly 101 degrees.

I then had the joy of calling in sick my second shift at work, I couldn’t even stand up without feeling as though the inside of my head was bigger than the outside, and I was going to tip over right there. Luckily they know me and I wasn’t too concerned about a first impression being ruined.

When I returned on Saturday, my scheduled seven hour shift turned into an eleven hour shift. They were short staffed, and as I know the ropes better than many of the employees they currently have there, I ended up covering someone's shift (bussing, but at least I made some cash). After ten years away the biggest obstacle I had was learning new places that they now put things.

Oddly, two girls (I guess I should now call them women?) that I used to hang out with all of the time, had also returned in the last year. Although I worked my ass off Saturday night, I would almost hardly consider it so, as it allowed for ample time to catch up with the girls that I hadn’t spoken to in about five and eight years.

One of the girls, Misty, always reminded me of a “Precious Moments” doll. With naturally light blond hair that hung nearly to her waist, beautiful porcelain white skin and big blue eyes (nothing has changed in ten years) any guy was putty in her hands… and with her soft demeanor she worked them all over. Misty was a blast to hang out with.

I was reminded of one year we went to a Halloween party at this apartment complex. Misty’s very cute, very shy male cousin allowed us to dress him up as a girl. He had gone to the Goodwill and got a retro dress and we curled his longer hair and added make-up. After he was all done, we all admired what a beautiful girl he made.

The party was held within an apartment building complex. All six floors of apartments opened up their front doors so guests to the building could easily ~~case the joint~~ find an apartment that best suited each person's taste. Misty and our group went in and had a great night. Unfortunately as fun as the multi-leveled party was, we gathered the most joy in watching her shy cousin poorly attempt to fend off guys.

Shy cousin was hit on by guys all night long. It was fucking hilarious. Though you or I might say something subtle like, "Dumbass, I'm a dude, the dress is only for Halloween", he was too shy to have any idea what to say and these guys each thought they would be the one to bring this shy, yet beautiful, girl out of her shell. Sadly, Misty and I ~~couldn’t~~ wouldn’t help him. We instead found ourselves very busy sitting back and watching. It was priceless.

I think that returning to work here wasn’t a bad choice at all… the only downfall is that I have to retrain, including taking several food tests… which I have yet to study for, yet assured the manager I would have them all completed today… studying shall be accomplished this morning, I hope.

Random 1: Yesterday I had two different guys, at two different times, stop me and ask what perfume I was wearing, because I smelled great. It was one of the few days I actually didn’t wear any. Maybe God is trying to tell me that I should no longer wear it, that he created a perfectly fine smelling OCG… right?

Random 2: If you want a chill CD with beats for your summer soundtrack, check out Wax Tailor. If you have good taste in music you shouldn’t be disappointed. (Loaded statement, eh?)

Happy Monday…

Back in the Saddle Again

2006-05-31T22:15:00.000-07:00

I begin my new job tomorrow. After swearing it off for good, I am going to bite the bullet and once again wait on tables. The joy of my life…

This is all for a means to an end. After meeting with college counselors it has been determined that one year from now I can finally be holding my college degree in hand. I just need to keep my eye on the prize to get through one more year of serving tables.

In order to ensure I graduate as soon as possible, and the school doesn’t throw me any last minute curve balls, I will begin classes this summer. Less than a month’s time and I will be once again battling parking at the University.

I will also be stashing away cash in hopes of moving out of my mother’s house as soon as possible. Although I am very grateful that she and her new hubby have opened up their home to me, I will be equally as appreciative to get the heck out. I don’t imagine living with a newly-wed couple is good for anyone, when it’s your mother it’s even worse.

My mother was telling me the other day that her neighbor was selling her house… my mother then went on to add the reason that she probably was selling it was because the walls were paper thin and she was tired of hearing the bedrooms on both sides of hers. I looked at my mother and said, “I really don’t need to hear anymore.”

She continued, saying the previous neighbor had said that he had heard my mom’s husband when they were dating. I cried out, “Mom, no more!” She looked at me and to drive the nail in just that much further she said that he had told her to think of it as a compliment to her. I left the room.

I have created a monster. My mother was never open about sex, until the last few years I became more open about it. My mother never even explained to my sisters or me about what sex was, or what periods were for that matter. All information was given to us by friends, because my mom was too uncomfortable to discuss it. Now she’s a regular Sue Johanson. Brilliant.

It’s not just the thought that potential love making might be going on two floors above me (thank God for three story townhouses), I am just ready to get out of here. They need their space and I need mine.

Yesterday I was doing laundry and while transporting my step-dad’s clothes from the washer into the dryer, I realized that a pair of my panties had gotten in with his wash. I was a little grossed out, but remembered that through the course of the wedding weekend many people in the family (including myself and he) used the office (a.k.a. my uber temporary bedroom) to change clothes (at different times) for various functions we had to attend. I assumed they had gotten in the mix there.

I told my mom later in the day that a pair of my panties had gotten into a load of his clothes, and when she asked me how that had happened, I explained the situation to her. She thought that was weird. I agreed, adding, “Unless you have the same black lacy pair of panties from Victoria’s Secret.” She looked at me and said, “Those are mine.” Completely grossed out I told her I had her panties hanging on the knob of my bedroom door.

So… yeah… I am going to start my new job tomorrow and I am going to be moving out of my mom’s house ASAP, before I find a french maid costume that isn't mine. Tip your waitress well, my friends, it may be me.

There’s trouble…

2006-05-30T15:51:00.000-07:00

My mom’s wedding was wonderful on Saturday… excess amounts of family that I haven’t seen in years were greeted… my nephew topped us all my looking the best and almost stealing the show (he asked is mom for a faux-hawk for the wedding)… although my mother was a truly a gorgeous sight to behold. God I am glad to be back at home with my family. I missed them.

As I was re-visiting relatives for the duration of the day, I hardly drank anything, nor ate either. Once the wedding dwindled to a few family members left, my new sister, Winnie, her boyfriend, Miles, one of my oldest friends Michael (previously known as M&M), and I headed to the store. Somehow in my slightly buzzed state I thought five bottles of champagne seemed appropriate for us, after the dozens that had already been consumed throughout the day.

Our parents decided they didn’t care for any champagne. So the four of us sat at ~~my mother’s~~ our parents’ house and drank the remainder, while gifts were admired (I am still baffled that her neighbors bought her wind chimes, I find that’s comparable to my sister buying her own kids a drums set, but whatev…)

That’s pretty much all I remember for the night. I awoke Sunday morning in a strange bed, wearing my $12.99 Ross find (the dress that I received compliments on all day throughout the wedding). I had a large bruise just above my right knee and a bruise on my right palm (I have never bruised the palm of my hand before).

Realizing I was in Winnie’s apartment and had slept in her rarely-seen roommate’s bed, I wearily found the bathroom. While there I found a large “X” on the back side of each of my hands, obviously drawn on by a Sharpie. Confused, and trying to piece together the previous evening I looked into the mirror while washing my hands and saw my reflection, complete with a large black “X” on the side of my face. I had “fallen asleep” while resting my head upon my hand. Who’s gorgeous?

I went into Winnie’s room where she moaned herself awake as Miles (who didn't go out with us after the wedding festivities) hurriedly got ready for the family breakfast we were all supposed to attend. Needless to say, we didn’t attend. Instead Winnie pieced together an evening of me getting kicked out of the same bar three times (at that point I blame it on them).

The first time I was asked not to return was after losing my balance and grabbing onto her arm, as she sat on some guys lap. I pulled her onto the ground with me. She scrambled up, ensuring that her flower wasn’t shown to the drunken masses (as she wasn’t able to wear… undergarments… with her dress she chose for the wedding). Nothing says welcome home like my new 20 year old (with fake ID) sister pleading my 30 year old case to get back into the club… brilliant.

I paid her back though… oh yes… in true Drunk OCG form at the next club I got a guy to buy us bottle of champagne (because we needed more, I assure you). We left shortly thereafter and returned home (disclaimer: neither of us were driving) after the necessary drunk stop at Del Taco.

In between Winnie’s mad dashes to the bathroom Sunday (oh so ill) she looked at me and said, “The best thing that ever happened to you last night was you getting cut off. Be thankful.”

Miles later talked with her and said, “So is OCG moving back for good?” When she replied, “Yes.” his only response was, “Oh there’s trouble.”

How has that nickname followed me for so long? I don’t get it…

“Dance Like Nobody’s Watching”

2006-05-25T20:24:00.000-07:00

That is the slogan, printed on a sign, hanging outside of an apartment complex here in Portland, advertising that space is available. I understand the Mark Twain quote is really quite wonderful… but I need to be honest, those words hanging on a florescent pink plastic tarp over the name of the apartments’ creeps me out. En fait, the last thing I ever want to read about a place that I might be moving into is “dance like nobody’s watching”… it merely makes me look forward to the day that I look out my window and see the perspiring “quiet guy” from next door leering through from the shadows as I do dance as though nobody is watching… in my bra and panties.

Two days until the wedding. Family will be flying in tomorrow, and I will be giving up my temporary bedroom this weekend for an even more temporary daybed in my mom’s office, as her soon-to-be mother-in-law gets the “good room”. I guess I will be packing an overnight bag and heading up a couple of flights of stairs. I am not complaining (ish) I am quite happy that I have a (free) place to stay, but I must be honest, I can not wait to get the heck outta here… (freedom!)

Last night I went out to dinner with my mom and her fiancé and the subject of my bedroom came up. The bedroom I have at my mom’s has three large windows that have double layers of white curtains on them. It lightens up this bottom floor room, which my mother was going for. I, however, am so not going for that “lightening up” at 6:30am… actually the last thing I am looking for at that hour is tons of light. (Note: I say this as I no longer need to be to work at 7am, if I did I might be writing how convenient and welcoming the light is.)

I was attempting to imply that the light might be undesirable to their weekend guest, when they started laughing and my mom asked if I didn’t like the light. I said that I just wanted to make sure that fiancé’s mother was comfortable, that I didn’t have a problem with it (honestly I sleep with my eye mask most of the time, so it isn’t the biggest problem). My mom and fiancé started laughing about how I didn’t like the light… then my mom leaned over to him and said “Good… our plan is working!” Funny… oh so funny. I told her not to be alarmed when she arrived home one day and I had taken black garbage bags and nailed them to my windows… that should look classy…

I am hoping that the dress I bought for the wedding doesn’t end up in a garbage bag… I am not sure if it was the best choice. My mom and my sister both like it, but my 10 year-old niece said that she liked my $12.99 Ross find better… and I might have to agree with my little protégé.

To be honest, I wouldn’t care if the dress was for just Saturday, but these pictures are going to be around forever… and I would rather go with something a little simpler, yet more flattering than with something I cringed about forever more. We shall see, it will probably come down to me deciding Saturday morning… or fining something tomorrow… we’ll see.

This will be the week for pictures that last a lifetime… I decided the best gift that all of us children (my soon-to-be step-dad’s three and my mom’s three) will be a portrait of all of us kids presented for their wedding day… (tears galore) although last minute, we will all be heading to the studio tomorrow and having picture taken… and I still don’t know what I am going to wear to that… so I am headed off to my mini-closet…

Have a great weekend…and remember…

“Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth.”
-Mark Twain

I’m in love with a blogger… *

2006-05-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

I know I don’t through words around like “in love” lightly… so perhaps I should just say “I love him”… after all I do love everybody. He is incredibly smart and funny. So much so, actually that last night when I was ready for bed at 10:30 I “clicked” on his blog and was up until 2am reading through his archives. I didn't want the writing to end. I have never (and I suppose I should not be telling other blogger friends this) voluntarily read through anyone’s archives before, but I just. couldn’t. stop. clicking. I was laughing out loud every few minutes. I thought I should out myself… after all he has probably seen all of these hits on his site at a very unreasonable hour… and wondered who his new stalker is… so… hi you… it’s just me… ocg…

* Really “in love” is a little strong, especially since he has a girlfriend and I have no real interest in him beyond reading his daily take on life.

Love Me and I'll Love You Back...

2006-05-22T00:41:00.000-07:00

Just before I left for Oregon I had dinner with my friend Joe. As he and I sat at dinner the conversation drifted towards a mutual friend of ours, James, who has been married for six years. Joe and I both had a bit of information shared to each us by James… In James’ life he has only received three blow jobs. Yes, I said Three Blow Jobs. James said his wife thinks they are “icky” (I assure you his word, not mine) and he told me that at least two of them were not from her.

I was floored when I initially found this out. I have spoiled certain guys and given them three blow jobs in a single day… I simply can not fathom that this is what James has (or rather, hasn’t) experienced in his entire life.

Joe then said something along the lines of, “Women should know if they don’t satisfy their man, then their man will find someone else who gives them what they need.”

I didn’t like this comment.

I told Joe (as I have previously shared with you) about when I was in The South I had surprised EB when he came home from work. I had baked a chocolate cake from scratch and I was wearing my new school girl outfit, ready to give him a very good welcome home indeed.

Joe said he was impressed and that is how women should keep their men satisfied. I responded to Joe that it was a two way street, my man needs to keep me satisfied as well, but what satisfies me is completely different than what satisfies him.

I have briefly talked previously here and here about keeping men satisfied, but I don’t think I have clarified what we as women need in return.

I am not generally an insecure girl, however if you have received the impression that I am completely low maintenance, I have grossly mislead you. I need to know, as all women do, that I am loved. Sometimes I am going through more stressful times in my life and (regardless if the stress has to do with my relationship or not) I need, even more, the confirmation of your love for me.

When I returned from The South last month I was having a very stressful time. In between preparing to move and leave SoCal, as well as thinking about the event that had transpired the few weeks before with EB and me, I was becoming overwhelmed with life. Even though we had just spent an amazing time together and I had decided to extend my holiday when I was there, I needed EB to reassure me of his love for me.

Extreme stress and insecurity was something EB hadn’t previously dealt with me and he began to pull away, just when I needed the additional affirmation from him. We began creating this downward spiral between the two of us, me basically freaking out because he was pulling away, and him pulling away because I was freaking out. Sounds pretty doesn’t it?

I told him I needed him to give me what I need to be satisfied, the reassurance through his words and actions that he loved me… that I was the woman he was willing to fight for. This completely changed our dynamic. He began telling me often that he loved me, and in turn it completely lowered my stress about us and changed the way I was acting towards him.

Everything was great… because he took the few extra moments throughout the day to tell me that he loved me. The earth, the moon, and the stars can brighten in a woman’s life when a man takes the few extra minutes to go out of his way to tell her that she is special in his world.

I explained to Joe as we finished our meals that I was very happy that EB had listened to my words and was more attentive to my needs… it isn’t every girl that comes along willing to bake cakes and give you daily blow jobs while dressed up as a school girl. I told Joe, “Men should know if they don’t satisfy their woman, then their woman will find someone else who gives them what they need.”

Joe knew I was right. I saw him grabbing his mobile phone just after leaving the restaurant, I am sure giving that special someone in his life the words of encouragement that she would like to hear... just because… sometimes it can make all of the difference in her world.

Eat, Drink, and Remarry

2006-05-18T12:02:00.000-07:00

Back in Portland I find myself in the rush of an upcoming wedding approaching in just over a week’s time. I still do not have a dress. Now with no employment, I don’t have the extra cash to find the dress of my dreams. I suppose I shouldn’t care much, as it’s not my “big day” however, those wedding pictures will be around forever… so I gotta look G-U-D good.

In addition my soon-to-be step sister has fallen in love with a $500 dress that she wants her dad to buy for her. I do not have the luxury of being the only girl in the family, and with two sisters, I know that my mother will not be coughing up that much for each of us to adorn ourselves on her special day.

Last weekend I went to my friend’s father’s wedding. I had nothing to wear (if I had a nickel…). After some very last minute shopping I found a dress. At Ross. For $12.99. (Thank you very much.) I even got compliments on it. Now as my soon-to-be-sis dons her fabulous $500 gown… I will be in my bargain find. Brilliant.

I walked upstairs at my mom’s house yesterday and saw a large box sitting on the floor near the living room… looking in I saw that blue… a BIG box of that blue… the wedding gifts have begun to arrive. Beginning with a large gift from Tiffany’s… I suddenly remembered that marriage isn’t so bad.

I have also been trying to decide what I should get my mom and her new husband… starting with a wedding card. We tried to find a card last weekend for his father’s wedding, and finally settled on something rather generic. Trying to find a suitable card for your parents’ second wedding is not easy.

I have no desire, nor do I find it appropriate to get a card for my mom, telling her the sanctity of her and her husband’s vows… she already had them with my father. Honestly, it feels nearly rude for me to remind my mother of how serious one should take their vows.

This is my million dollar idea, another one of them anyway. I am going to create a line of cards for children to purchase for their remarrying parents. Several of my friends’ parents have remarried in these last few years, and it is an entire market that is being neglected. I think so anyway. I can fill the section with important words of wisdom like, “Eat, Drink, and Remarry!”

In between preparing for a wedding, and drooling over robin's egg blue… trying to find a job, and deciding what state I shall live in… fielding calls from random exes that suddenly want to “hang out” again now that I am back in town and kicking it with friends I haven’t seen in awhile… I will also sell parents second (or third or whatever) marriage cards… I’ll be rich…. Maybe I will be able to find a fab dress then…

I AM a Domestic Goddess.

2006-05-12T13:25:00.000-07:00

I won’t lie. I love presents. Presents come in all shapes and sizes and sometimes they are for the giver as much, or even perhaps more, than the receiver. Saturday morning was one of these times…

Leaving the house to go to Cracker Barrel, where I was to try grits for the first time (and maybe the last) the post-person stopped by the house with a package for him. He grabbed it as we got into the car, looked at the address and smiled. I looked over to see “3WL” as the return address and new it was my lucky day… or his…

I suppose it was actually my lucky day, as while we were at breakfast he grabbed the pegboard game off of the table and said, “We will both play, whoever gets the least pegs wins… what does the winner get?” I looked at him and said, “A 30 minute, no sex attached, backrub.” He shrugged ok… although I was sure if he had won I could have cut the backrub short, broken my own rule, and gotten out of the full 30 minutes… however this is all just speculation, as I won… yesssssssss.

We went home and it was time for me to open and model my new outfit. Just the one that I had wanted: “Scantily Fishnet”… although when I had visions of parading around in it, I hadn’t just finished eating most of my breakfast and part of his… luckily (and as always) anytime I might feel slightly uncomfortable I can rely on one thing… men are blinded by pussy… it just doesn’t matter how I feel… he will be happy. And he was.

I have decided that as I will be staying here for a while (though the time is passing quickly) we can’t go out to eat every night. It’s not like I need to be treated to a date daily. We have taken a couple of evenings and cooked in. With the additional time I had during the day while he was at work yesterday I compiled a menu for last night of Pecan Encrusted Salmon; Spinach, Apple, and Bacon Salad; and Roasted Red Potatoes. For dessert we had some left over Peach Cobbler I had made the previous evening…

He looked at me the other night while we were eating dinner and said, “Let me get this straight… you are phenomenal in bed, you bake cakes and you cook great dinners. What’s not to love?” Umm… yeah… pretty much I rock.

It has been really nice to have this time away from everything. Trying to gather perspective and figure out what I should be doing. Moving out of my soon-to-be-married mom’s house is a top priority. I stayed with my mom briefly before moving to France, but prior to that it has been years since I lived with my parents, and as much as I love them, I would like to keep a little distance.

Finding the job that will finance this planned move is also an important factor. We’ll see…

On a total and complete side note, I can not sing the praises of Coppertone Sunless Tanning Lotion enough. After hearing someone refer to my former roommate as “alligator skin” I decided that I shouldn’t be spending so much time trying to get a tan. This lotion is awesome and goes on evenly and looks natural.*

* This is not a paid endorsement, however if someone wants to change that fact, you are more then welcome.

OCG's Adventure

2006-05-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

When I was younger I used to love the “choose your own adventure” books. I would read and reread the books until every scenario had been chosen, through any variety of paths. I now find myself in the middle of my own “choose OCG’s adventure”.

I fully realize that this is indeed what life is, nothing more than a series of choices that we compile, and once we look back we realize that each one of these options built up and put us smack dab where we are, right here in our own adventure. Rarely, however, do we reach such an obvious crossroads in life as “Go Right” or “Go Left”.

Not too long ago a blover emailed me and said that I had mellowed out. I thought he was joking as this was just after my St. Patrick’s weekend post, and I asked him if he was. He replied in fact no, he was serious. He said he had read through some of my last several entries and I had mellowed out. Looking back, he was right.

At the end of last summer as my readership picked up, I was recording my life as I was in the process of and later getting out of a brief, yet serious, relationship with someone whom I thought I was going to spend forever with. I got over him like any SoCal girl in her 20s would, I partied my ass off. My hungover days at work were spent chronicling the previous evening’s memories, however fleeting they were in my mind, on this fun thing called the blog.

In the last few months I have made a conscious choice to not be such a drunk whore, and instead have settled down quite a bit. This is good for my life and liver, but makes for more boring reading on my blog.

In addition, and as I have stated previously, this blog isn’t as anonymous as I would like (but I. Can’t. Stop. making blog-friends… you people rule) and some of my choices are very blog-ish related… in a way my two worlds have collided.

Instead of pouring through my thoughts on my blog (as I may have if this was purely “real world” stuff), I find that I am mostly in my head and exchanging emails about these potential life changes. I know this is all getting very blah blah blah. Basically it’s this. I have settled down. Much of this is due to someone significant in my life… someone whom I met through being OCG. Now I can choose to not settle in Portland and once again pick-up and randomly move across the country. For a boy.

Now on the other side of this is a “big secret” that I haven’t shared. Due to my impromptu move to SoCal I left school with less than a year left. I never graduated. I do not have my undergraduate degree and I am not only embarrassed by this fact, but disappointed in myself. None of my recent employers have known this, which is part of the reason that I have kept this all on the DL, I couldn’t risk losing my job over this lie.

A reason that I told many people that I was returning to Portland was to finish my degree*, which I would truly like to do, although when I said this I had no intention of doing so. Now I find myself so incredibly drawn to finishing my education and hopefully continuing onto further bigger and better things. I won’t lie. I am crazy jealous of what Lizzie is doing with her life.

So here I am, in the bedroom of a boy I love, contemplating (just as I did the majority of my car ride up to Portland) where my future might take me. Or rather, where I am going to take myself.

* The California University systems wouldn’t accept all of my abundance of credits (due to changing my major far too many times) and were going to make me complete at least two more years of school.

As soon as she came, she went…

2006-05-04T05:26:00.000-07:00

I am heading out of town for a couple of weeks (I will have ample time to post)… apparently I love prolonging joblessness and homelessness just a bit longer. I have enjoyed the last few days in Portland. The warm weather has been great and has reminded me of how easily one can fall in love with this place… all over again.

However, I am off to consume copious amounts of hushpuppies… mmm mmm good…

Arg… plane almost loading... I must get my pre-boarding self ready… happy day

One of the best weekends... ever

2006-05-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

I forgot how much I enjoy traveling on my own. It’s almost a spiritual experience… one has the opportunity to think, reflect and, of course, talk continuously to their company, even if he is only a fish. I now write (started this post on Sunday night) while sitting in a hostel nestled into the Redwood Forest, across from the Pacific Ocean, listening to a random guy strum beautifully on his guitar, with the crashing waves providing any needed back-up.

I was very nervous to embark on this journey, being so entirely unsure about where I would be in these upcoming months, where I would live and what job I might find. Worrying about the future I forgot to remember it’s really about the experience of all the present moments that counts. Life is the journey, not the destination after all.

This has been an incredible, needed, journey over the past two days. I went from being remorseful over losing my “woo-hoo” spot, to remembering that I will never lose what is mine, it shall merely follow me wherever I chose to go. I know that might sound silly, however remembering that my life isn’t what I am (or am not) doing nor where I live (or or don't live), has been uplifting.

Aiding in this uplifting time has been scenic routes and good friends. On my way to meet Sizz, Nihilistic, Michael and Mr. Rodacre I drove on Hwy 1. It was narrow, steep, curvy… and gorgeous. (Not unlike my company that evening.) Many of my friends think its weird that I have met “online friends”, but when you “meet” people especially through the blogs, you already have a sense of their personality… we read one another’s blogs because we like what they have to say, in person it is only better. I hope that there shall be more fun with blogger friends* in the future.

Heading north out of Santa Cruz I saw this beautiful lighthouse, after stopping and taking pictures I saw that it was a hostel and it gave me the great idea that perhaps there was a hostel in the Redwoods I could stay. I thought that would be better than some random motel on the Oregon Coast. With a friend’s help one was located just south of Crescent City, so in lieu of taking the 1 north I hopped on the 101 outside of San Francisco (I know that driving talking on the phone and shooting pictures might not be the safest thing... but, come on.) and headed through the wine country. Gas was getting less expensive by the mile, and when I saw it as low as $3.15 just south of Eureka, I waited for it to drop even more in Eureka… no such luck. It was back to the SoCal prices of $3.40 a gallon.

I stopped for lunch at a diner in town, bringing Sampson in with me, as he couldn’t stay in the car, lest the water heat up and I have a cooked fish upon my return. As I left the diner, a man appearing homeless looked at me weird as I left carrying my fish. One must truly reflect upon themselves when hobo’s steer clear from you.

As I headed north on the 101 I saw a couple pulled over in a distinctly marked “No Parking” area taking photos. I looked over to see what they were taking pictures of, and walking through a bay bordering the ocean, were about two dozen elk cow. It was unbelievable. I immediately pulled over and parked and also took a few snapshots.

When I got to the hostel, it was unbelievable. It was nestled in the Redwoods, just across from the ocean. There were hiking paths all around it… it was truly amazing. I recommend to anyone heading that way to stay there. The young hippie couple that ran the place were very nice. While the guy pushed the stroller of their very young child around outside, trying to get him to fall asleep, I walked in the house to check in with the girl. I talked about the drive up and the road conditions while she finished opening the place for the evening. I was in mid-sentence telling her of a road closure along the one, due to “rock sli…..” I was completely unable to finish my word as she lifted her arms to put a cardigan over her tank top, and a hugely hairy mass was visible under her armpit. Now I have told you before about how I feel about hair… this stunned me. Being in OC for so long allowed me to forget about hippies and those living “at one” with nature. I tried to finish my word and look cool with the situation. It didn’t work. I went on, “the rock sluds.. the slu.. god I can’t speak today”. Yeah, so not cool.

I arose early on Monday to go see the “Trees of Mystery” before I hit the road. Being the first one in the park was a very nice experience. Just me and nature… although traveling by myself, and having no one else in the park available to take my picture next to some of the trees kinda sucked. I mean I can tell you a particular picture is of a tree over nineteen feet in diameter, but without something next to it to show you the scale, it does kind of lose something.

I headed north, and decided not to take the 101 through Oregon, it was time for me to sack up and head home (although I honestly was having thoughts about just staying on this road trip…I was having far too much fun). I passed by the Smith River and the National Forest, and it was unbelievable. I got on the 5 and headed home. Just in time for my mom to take me to get a mani, and return home where her fiancé had cooked us dinner. He had put out an array of appetizers for us to nibble on, including assorted crackers and cheeses, pickled asparagus and peppers, vegetables… and Cheetos. Yeah, I think he and I will get along just fine. Home, sweet home.

* “Blogger friends” imply that you must have a blog… if you merely read and comment you are a “commenting person” ;-)

Unemployed and Proud of it

2006-04-27T16:42:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I am kind of freaking out right now. I don’t think that the reality that I am leaving had hit me too much recently… even sleeping atop an air mattress on my bedroom floor (since the movers came last weekend) hasn’t made the impact that I thought it would. Even this morning when I awoke my first thought (somehow intertwined with Boys II Men’s Cooleyhigh Harmony) was, “I am going to be with him in a week” not “Oh my God, it’s my last day here.”

Then as I drove to work I passed the local movie theatre and saw a film was going to be playing this weekend that I had some interest in seeing. I then realized I will not be here to see it. My stomach dropped. Everything that I haven’t had the chance to do, to see, or to experience came flooding to me. I haven’t had the chance to tell the Coffee Nazi that I am moving, as I haven’t seen him since I gave up coffee. I passed my Woo-Hoo spot for the last time on my way to work.

If I had a definite plan, perhaps I wouldn’t be so nervous… but now I am beginning to doubt every one of these decisions leading to this move. Have I made the right choice to leave? Did I really want to move away from one of the most beautiful places ever? I suppose I have made the right choice... as I feel a peace about leaving… it’s just the uncertainty of the future that has me… freaking out.

My mother told me years ago that I was the daughter she was going to always need to have a spare room for, as no one ever knows when I am coming or going. I was thinking about this comment this morning and realized that I might know least of everyone where I am going. To be honest with you I don’t even know which state I will be living in, in the upcoming months. But that’s a can of worms I can’t bear to think about at this point…

Time to look at this one day at a time… and today I shall focus on last moments spent with friends… my “last supper” at my favorite local Mexican restaurant… then on tomorrow’s beautiful drive and meeting new friends…

A fresh start to this life already in motion… even if I am not sure where this part really ends and the new begins… I guess that’s the joy of life… (hopefully) the new will always be here… new experiences… new adventures… new future paths… a new comfort zone… new unemployment… ahhh yes, the joy

All over the place…

2006-04-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

I am currently removing photos from my walls, cleaning out my desk and making list for whomever shall be coming in to fill my shoes here. I am also going through my computer and deleting programs and running scans to ensure that they have no idea what I really did while here.

Today I will also be cleaning out my desk drawers and taking all personal items home. I will also be removing the bundles of ~~Christmas~~ Holiday Cards that I never sent out this last Holiday Season. Really, where is my Employee of the Year plaque?

In 48 hours time I will be heading out on the road with Sampson. I have decided now that I have (nearly) all of the time in the world (as I am sans job and sans place to live… other then my mother’s) I will take a leisurely drive up the coast, taking in the beloved scenery of the Pacific Coast.

I am so excited, as I am going to continue my blogger-world-tour by meeting Ms. Sizzle and Nihilistic for the evening on Saturday night.* We will be tearing up a coastal town near you… just to blog about it later. I will continue Sunday morning up the coast and into Oregon (hopefully with a still-living Sampson by my side). I should be home Sunday night, unless I get too sleepy and need to retire to a hotel. Then Monday it is… after all I got nothing but time.

Many factors that are incredibly great, impacting and life changing are dependant on these next few weeks of my life. It’s rather odd, and I am quite interested to see where I shall be in a couple months time. I’ll share more about that* later…

Until then, it’s Champagne laundry night for a final time with Beach Chic and Natasha… and then a mellow (I mean it this time) dinner. Perhaps our last time together, that really sucks.

* Seriously when started this “blog” thing I had no idea how many people I would virtually meet… and actually meet. Now my blogger-friends et al are changing my life… for the better, of course.

Saying goodbye...

2006-04-26T11:36:00.000-07:00

... lasted until 5:30am this morning. I had to wake up less than an hour later. The office had a big meeting today (that I excused myself from as I only have two days left) and slept in my office for two hours... I have a headache now and think I smell of Jack and coke... so enjoy my pseudo-post today.

I'm a Ferrari 360 Modena!

You've got it all. Power, passion, precision, and style. You're sensuous, exotic, and temperamental. Sure, you're expensive and high-maintenance, but you're worth it.

"Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

Life Should Taste As Good As OCG.*

2006-04-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

I will be leaving here in just under three day’s time. This last weekend was spent packing as much as I could, as quickly as I could. Just after I posted on Friday, the movers called me to see if they could come over and move my things that afternoon. After catching my breath, and telling them that I had been told I had until Sunday, they informed me that they were running ahead of schedule. No shit? Luckily, I was able to get everything together and out by Saturday afternoon.

I was going to take my camera and capture photos from around town this last weekend of things that I would miss… but as much as I am going to miss my view, the ocean and the weather, I am mostly going to miss people. I am going to miss nights like last night when Le was having boy problems, so I just went over to hang out with her and stay the night.

I am going to miss Sunday Funday’s with Beach Chic. I am going to miss still-drunken-from-the-night-before brunches with Lalo. I am going to miss drinking wine and champagne in the evening and talking with my roommate about life and getting her perspective. I am going to miss Topless on the Terrace weekends of fun with the girls. I am going to miss Dirty Sanchez, and how fun she is, and how real she is. I am going to miss Wednesday Night dinners with Lalo and Mama D.** I am going to miss Mama D, who I will pray for daily and hope that I will be able to see again in this lifetime.

I, however, will not miss the loser guys who insist on playing the numbers game while hitting on you (“I just bought a house for $1.5M, just got a new car for $blahblahblah…”). The idea that someone would have something… anything… of substance that would attract me… dare to dream. I also won’t miss the girls that have been looking for the “numbers” guys to pay their rent and start paying for the life that they all feel as though they are entitled to… after all they live in SoCal…

Overall, I have met amazing people here… I will miss them greatly… but I guess it’s time to move onto newer, bigger and better things. You only live once, after all.

* Sloganize your name.
** There might be a problem that many of my favorite moments involve copious amounts of alcohol… maybe it definitely is time to head home.

The Dub

2006-04-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

Clogging traffic through his presence here…

It was told to me today, “You know when a Republican president is facing large protests in Orange County, something is wrong.”

hungover... where's the greasy food?

2006-04-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

What started as the girls coming over to “help me pack” turned into too many bottles of champagne and wine… turned into me lying in front of la toilette at 5am heaving my brains out. I hate it when that happens… I hate even more that I haven’t made a dent in my packing since Tuesday night… I am still tumbling through my room attempting to maneuver around the boxes and bags filling it.

I will go home today (I mean it this time) and get the packing done. I have confiscated various packing supplies from around the office. I am sure they really didn’t need all of those bankers boxes or bubble wrap… although I did have someone ask me yesterday where the packing tape went… I just looked at him and told him it would be returned on Monday. I also took it upon myself to order several boxes of printing paper and other various office supplies yesterday, ensuring that I will have more valuable sturdy boxes for packing… and the office shall have supplies for years to come after my departure.

Coming to the realization that in a week I shall be both jobless and homeless has also been interesting. In addition to packing today I will also go to an eye exam as my health insurance will also disappear in one week’s time. I have dental appointment on Monday. I am attempting to be a responsible adult and take care of myself.

Driving to work this morning it really began to hit me that in one week I will not be working. I make a really good unemployed person. Really good. I hate working, so this will be perfect. Perfect, that is, for the first month or so that I have money and time. Not so perfect when I realize I am broke and I need a job. We’ll see what happens. I think these upcoming couple of months are going to be very interesting, and I can’t wait to see what my future might hold.

"Between two evils I always pick the one I never tried before."
-Mae West

Have a great weekend…

Trouble in Paradise?

2006-04-20T10:25:00.000-07:00

All day long I waited by the phone yesterday… waiting from the call from him. He told me he would call… he told me he was on his way. Yet I heard nothing. I began wondering if I had made the right choice with him. Had I once again set myself up for disappointment? I caved and finally called him… he didn’t answer, although I could tell he was on the other line. I did something I never do… I left a message. I tried to sound carefree and lighthearted, when really I have been so stressed about him lately. I waited for him to return my call… never let them know you care by calling them twice without a return call. I got off of work and just couldn’t wait any longer I called him again… he answered. Thank god.

One would think though that through emailing and talking all of the time we might have good communication. But no, we don’t understand one another at all… this past week, all of this time wasted… I thought he understood… God, I thought I understood. All of this stress for nothing… dang it… all to find out last night, the movers aren’t coming today, they are coming on Sunday.

So I have a couple more days to procrastinate… I mean “organize” before the movers arrive. My room is in utter chaos. My door doesn’t open all of the way, and once I get through the door it doesn’t easily close. The room that I once thought was fairly spacious has now begun collapsing in on me. Last night I was only able to sleep on about half of my queen size bed, as books and various other objects have begun talking over the other side.

I tossed and turned attempting to get to sleep, having a hard time… not due to the space in which I was confined to… but LJ, my roomie, had a “guest” over last night. That makes a different “guest” every night this week. You might think I am jealous, but if you saw these gentleman callers that have been coming over… you would just feel for me.

Last night was my favorite. I seriously tried to think of a way to record their conversation while I lied in bed stifling laughs. LJ’s guest last night plays the guitar, having taken lessons for the past two years. As I normally love guys who play guitars, I was ready to be lulled to sleep by the Jack Johnson serenading occurring in the next room… then he started playing… and singing. It was horrible.

He was out of tune the entire time (what person that plays guitar can’t hold a simple tune?!?!) while his fingers slipped striking the wrong chords and notes. It was horrible. I got up and decided to make some tea, as I had to see this debacle first hand. He of course stopped as I passed through the living room, only to pick it back up upon my return to my bedroom.

Ahhh Stairway to Heaven. I can’t help but to think of Wayne’s World anytime I hear that song. Now LJ digs this guy, and has for quite some time, so she is oohing and ahhing over everything he is doing. Talking about how much this song has changed in the twenty years since it came out. (Try 35 years lady.)

This guy then begins to boast about how much talent he has and how well he plays for someone who has only played the guitar for two years. He even said that he plays as well as many people who have taken the guitar for most of their lives. I am beginning to wonder if this guy has ever even heard anyone else play the guitar as his fingers move clumsily over the strings… he said he had a natural talent for it, and had he picked up a guitar in his younger years (he and my roomie are in the later 40s) he can’t imagine what he would have been able to do with the talent.

I puked in my mouth and fell asleep… praying that I wouldn’t wake under an avalanche of boxes nor to the sounds of such a “god given talent”.

Ass from the Passt

2006-04-19T10:45:00.000-07:00

I believe I got half of my packing done yesterday… I hope… because I have left the other “half” to be completed tonight.

My rides home have been more depressing this week. Knowing that each day I pass by Main Beach will be one less time that I shall have the opportunity to do so… although with the flux of tourists increasing it also reminds me of why I am leaving. I drive and watch carefully, attempting to navigate around dumb-asses hanging cameras out the window and slamming on their brakes so excited to see the ocean. Park your fucking car, you’ll get a better shot, and I will be less likely to kill you.

In lieu of going out for food, and needing to deal with the traffic any longer last night, I opted to instead go home and have the oh-so-healthy dinner of Dominos Pizza… yes the life of a single girl in OC can be quite glamorous at times.

In further attempts to procrastinate my packing last night, I started chatting with T, a guy I used to ~~see~~ ~~date~~ ~~moved across country with~~ ~~lived with~~… it’s kind of hard to describe us… years ago. Oddly the same day I blogged about him just over a month ago, he randomly contacted me (said that he Googled my name) . Umm… so T, if you read this blog… then hey… what’s up?

I was younger and didn’t have the ultra high level of self-esteem that I currently do. Silly girl… silly because I allowed him to treat me like someone I wasn’t. I learned a lot from him. He was the one with whom I was riding in the car with one day and I realized that I was more lonely sitting beside him than I was when I was by myself. I decided at the moment to never allow that to happen again.

So, until about a month ago, we didn’t talk for six years. He kept our dog and although occasionally thoughts of the pooch and he crossed through my mind, I never attempted to contact him, nor would I have known where I could.

Then he pops back up…

After seeing pictures from my recent trip, he tells me he can't believe how skinny I am (although I was thinner while with him), he tells me that my boyfriend looks like a “good guy”, he tells me that I can stay at his house while he travels on business so I have a place to stay when I get to Portland and I can hang out with our dog.

We begin talking about where his friends are and what they have been up to in these last years. There is a married couple back home that he is friends with, although I knew the wife for several years before I met T. I mentioned, “I haven’t seen them in forever! How are they? How is she?”

He replied, “I don’t know how she is. I am not allowed into their house.”

“Why is that?”

“She says I can’t come in because she doesn’t like the way I treated you.”

I laughed… I guess sometimes justice is served… even if I wasn’t the one to do it.

He tried to treat me like a stupid girl a couple of times in our brief conversation… I wouldn’t allow myself to regress to the girl I was years ago. I suppose although time can heal some old wounds, it takes a lifetime for someone to unlearn being an asshole.

Work is Ruining My Weboggling

2006-04-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

Do clients not realize that I am hard at work trying to construct silhouettes of words, (which I can’t spell in my day-to-day life, let alone under a time constraint and with a specific set of letters available at my disposal)? Thank you Bone, for turning me on… to this. I am sure my bosses appreciate yet another thing to do to consume my day that doesn’t include working.

Not only have I begun playing Weboggle with fervor here at the office, but in lieu of packing I have also let it consume my free time at home as well. The moving truck will be leaving Portland tomorrow… and I haven’t even gotten the few empty boxes out of my car nor begun filling them.

I feel that I will no longer have the orderly, pre-cleaning packing done… cleaning out all of my drawers before I meticulously place each item into an appropriately marked box. I fear that now I will be in a frenzy, shoving and dumping whatever I might to get my hands on, into too few boxes… and I do worry that it will turn into some Clampett-esque trip, complete with large black garbage bags filling in for the boxes I never collected.

BUT WAIT

>>> Just In <<<

My new phone… something else to distract me and consume more of my free time… has just been delivered.

I am in heaven…

Phone, MP3 player, stereo speakers, full keyboard (not that my inability to type will get any better), Bluetooth, movies, camera, video, it will read my text messages outloud to me, games, email and IM access… fuck… its over…

Will someone please come over and help me pack? I am never getting all of my packing done in the next day…

The Master Cleanse + Easter Weekend = Bad Idea

2006-04-17T09:54:00.000-07:00

I picked one of the worst weekends to attempt to do a fasting cleanse as I have no willpower.* Let’s face it, if I had willpower I’d be anorexic, as in my book, anorexia = willpower. The snack size chocolate covered cheesecake bites won this round… and they pummeled me. So perhaps I shall attempt this cleanse again… but we’ll have to see.

The movers come this week, so now I must pack everything in a few days time… but how long can my bedroom, bathroom and a few other odds and ends take to pack up? I mean really… famous last words, I know. But we shall see.

Le came over this weekend and while there, she had one of her rare epiphany moments (God bless her) and had the best suggestion for moving Sampson, my fish. I buy purified water at the store in one gallon water bottles and fill Sampson’s bowl with them. Le fabulously suggested I just empty out a bit of the water from one of the bottle and put Sampson directly into the bottle. I can open it to make sure he has air, but I can also close the lid, ensuring that he won’t spill out. Problem solved.

The other problem solved today is the stress I had been having about keeping my things at my mother house, in the half of her garage that she isn’t using. However as mom is getting married and her soon to be hubby will be utilizing that half of the garage, and I was going to need to get my things out a mere few weeks after I moved in.

This normally wouldn’t be a problem, but I was hoping to get away for a couple of weeks prior to finding a job and more permanent living arrangements… and doing so with all of my stuff consuming precious space at my soon-to-be-fuller mom’s house… just makes me look irresponsible. (Heaven forbid.) Alas, Public Storage saved the day today.

Ok I am off… I really have to get back to Weboggle (see below). I am addicted.

*20-Questions, you are a far better person than I am.

I should be packing, but...

2006-04-15T15:55:00.000-07:00

... I am addicted to this game, even though I suck at it. Nothing like some procrastination and a game [that makes me feel oh so ignorant] to ensure that almost nothing* I hoped to get accomplished, actually gets done today.

* Thank God I had enough motivation to go and get that important pedi done this morning...

It's a Good Friday..

2006-04-14T08:34:00.000-07:00

An oldie but a goodie... I forgot that I would be giving up Easter Sunday chocolates with this cleanse... probably for the best...

Have a great weekend!

Hushpuppy love...

2006-04-13T10:37:00.000-07:00

After reading 20-Questions blog and following her quest for The Master Cleanse, I have decided to give it a try. (Especially after the amount of southern food I consumed this last week*… I swear I might turn into a hushpuppy the next time I eat [like I have never eaten before] those little pieces of heaven.) We shall see how it works. I have ingested my quart of warm sea-salt water already this morning (god that was horrible), and have my lemon juice-cayenne pepper-maple syrup-water concoction next to me, ready for this to be my only food consumption for the next ten days. I honestly don’t think I’ll get through the weekend, but we shall see.

20-Questions talked about one of her big hurdles was getting through the caffeine withdrawls, but I figure I have already leaped that hurdle, so perhaps this won’t be as difficult. Just over a month ago I cut caffeine out of my diet. I had been having these heart issues, where suddenly my heart would begin to beat very heavily, not necessarily rapidly, but just very hard, to the point it got a little frightening.

In Portland I went to a Powell’s Book Store with a friend and after walking into one section I had to take a seat as my heart was palpitating so strongly, it actually began to worry me. The worry increased tenfold as I looked up from my bench seat and saw that I was sitting in front of the “Death and Dying” section of books, and I was sure that God was trying to tell me something.

After reviewing my day, and the five (plus) shots of espresso I had consumed in the previous few hours of the morning, I decided that in lieu of rushing myself to Urgent Care, I would try and cut caffeine out of my diet. I felt oh-so-tired the first few days, but I feel much better now. I drank a Mountain Dew (highest caffeine content of any soda) the other night and was shocked to look at the clock at 2:30 am, thinking it was about 10:30pm. Yes, my body has definitely gotten over the caffeine addiction, and my heart seems to have returned to normal.

So through this difficult time of solely lemon water consumption (I really shouldn’t have watched Top Chef** last night), I am glad that my body shant be withdrawing from the copious amounts of caffeine I used to consume, while I instead drink this spicy-lemony drink. I wonder how it would taste with a little vodka added…

* Vinny Gambini: [the cook puts a big blob of lard on the stove] Excuse me, you guys down here hear about the ongoing cholesterol problem in the country?
** But Harold is so cute! (Even if he isn't photogenic.)

This is a jetsetter music letter from me to you*

2006-04-11T21:38:00.000-07:00

I had an amazing weekend… the type of weekend that is the reason one goes on holiday in the first place. After going through the pictures and removing all of the ones with us in them I have a few left to share…

One of my favorite things was feeding the catfish at David’s Catfish Cabin. After we ate a meal of fried catfish, and I consumed mad quantities of hushpuppies (sooo good) we each grabbed a bag of fish food and headed to the wood walkway in the back and began feeding the oversized, old catfish. It was awesome. These fish were ginormous. With their big mouths coming to the surface and trying to grab the pellets we tossed in was quite a site, especially with a few albino catfish (who knew?!?) thrown in for good measure…

On Friday night we spent our time on Beale Street. We luckily seemed to just miss the entire weather scare. We did hear that fifteen minutes away from where we were they had baseball size hail… but all we had was “Big Ass Beers” in our hands as we walked down Beale Street listening to some incredible Blues music lining the street.

I did go to my first Hooters while in Memphis and seriously thought about having my picture taken with the girls, but it was rather dead and mellow when we got there, and I felt weird about making the girl pose with me… so I guess one less picture that I could have shared with you…

We went to Graceland (I have the requisite “pose in front of the wall painted like Graceland’s entrance and have your picture taken” pictures to prove it). It was a good experience to have, although being herded over the green shag carpeting and through the halls with a bunch of tourists (please note I oddly and rarely consider myself a tourist) isn’t my ideal day… but now I can say that I have done it.

I have been to the King’s palace, and posed with a cardboard cutout of him. I have seen the green shag carpeted walls and ceiling of the jungle room, the mirrored walls of his TV room and seen more gold and platinum albums than I probably will at any single time in my life again. I saw the final resting place of the man who changed the face of modern music... that's not a bad thing at all.

The rest of the weekend was great. I was able to enjoy some great weather and frolic on the park… displaying my mad Frisbee skeels for all to admire and envy. And by “mad skeels” I mean I mostly got the Frisbee to the intended recipient most of the time.

I was going to show you some pics of my outfits, but I know I would only bore you with additional images of naughty school girls, more Dr. Anita Lay and candy panties… I mean who really wants to see that anyway…

* Morningwood, “Jetsetter”

You bitches is crazy, yo

2006-04-11T09:23:00.000-07:00

I had an amazing (and much needed) weekend away. I actually postponed my return home a day… when one is in the midst of such a great thing… why ruin it by leaving? I will share more of my holiday away with pictures later this week.

I will say that it’s a bit surprising to awake in Someone’s bed and have them tell you that people are talking smack about you on the internet.* I really feel as though I should have an acceptance speech prepared or something. The fact that ~~people~~ jealous girls that I have never and will never meet, talk shit about me… priceless.

Self-esteem is not something that I am lacking. I was joking with Lalo one day about the fact that she needed to go buy some self-esteem. She responded, “I would, but I went to Saks and you bought it all off the shelves!” She is right. I like me, I mean, how could I not? Have you seen this? ::pointing to me:: It does bother me only when Someone else is the recipient of such words. If you choose to share anything about me, I welcome you to share it directly with me, and we can go from there.

Two amusing things. Aofall, thank you for referring to me as a Femme Fatale… I am the best I have ever had, and I do guarantee you that I will be the best that anyone else has too. Bofall, to imply that Someone could do “better than me”… brought tears of laughter to my eyes. No they won’t.

I have had plenty of opportunity to talk smack about people on this blog, but I shant. I am better than that. I pity you and feel sorry for you. Maybe someday you can get your own life, and stop fretting over mine.

When dealing with chicks like this I completely understand gay men. I wouldn’t want to date this shit either. Now have a happy day, I will.

* I must have missed the memo informing us that we are in middle school.

Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again...

2006-04-06T23:23:00.000-07:00

Sitting at an airport bar yesterday afternoon, eating my lunch (drinking only water [disclaimer, disclaimer]) and watching the baseball game, a woman came up and asked if she could sit next to me. I, of course, said it was fine, and continued to work on my lunch, not really in the chatty mood. The woman ordered a beer and I honestly raised an eyebrow (I know, I know… I shall be careful of the stones I throw, living in a glass house and all).

The bartender asked her if she would like a shot with her large Bud Light for only two dollars more and the woman contemplated it for a moment prior to declining. She began drinking her beer and continued to make little comments to no one in particular. Unfortunately as I was the closest in proximity to her, I became no one in particular and was the lucky person that chatty Cathy decided to have conversation with.

Chatty Cathy turned to me and asked if I was from around the area or visiting. I told her that indeed I did live in Orange County. She then asked, “Where are you going today?”

I responded (still trying to eat my lunch), “I am going to [insert state locate on opposite side of the country].”

She then said, “Oh. Are you driving there?”

I could do nothing but look at her, returning the blank look that she seemed to have perfected so well. “Um, no. I am flying.” She didn’t even seem phased by the obviousness of this concept. She then ordered a shot of tequila. Yeah, she needed that.

As I wasn’t looking forward to the first (and the long) leg of my flight, I purchased two crossword puzzle books and planned on keeping myself entertained with that while on the flight. (For what reason American Airlines stopped playing movies, and instead started airing CBS’s “Eye on America” I have no idea…)

What could have been a miserable flight sped by as I ended up talking with the guy next to me the entire time. We covered all of the casual “getting to know you” topics of politics, religion and, of course, sex. He brought up a conversation that he had with friends previously in the week of frequency of masturbation. I laughed and said that he really didn’t want to get into that conversation with me. He thought it was because I hardly did.

I looked at him and said, “I am the best I have ever had, hands down. Pun intended.”

His eyes grew large and he said that he did it three to four times a week. I told him I could easily do that in a day, adding that I had twice at work (damn those naughty chat convos). His eyes grew bigger (although I am sure that’s not the only body part that enlarged a bit after I said that).

He was rendered unable to walk after we continued the conversation about dress-up, and I explained that packed in my carry-on was all of the ingredients that I needed for a chocolate cake with a whipped cherry filling. I said, “When my friend gets home from work tomorrow, his house will smell of a freshly baked chocolate cake, his favorite, and I will be on my knees in my brand new naughty schoolgirl outfit ready to reward him for his hard day at work.”

I can tell you tonight that the plan and execution left a very strong imprint with not only the guy on the airplane (and perhaps some people sitting in surrounding seats), but also my friend who reaped the benefits of such careful planning. Got to love a holiday away. Have a great weekend… we will.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

2006-04-05T09:20:00.000-07:00

In a few hours time I will be boarding a plane for a long, fun weekend. I hate this waiting time, I just want to get on the plane and be there already… but alas patience is a virtue… one that I have been and will be learning for a long time.

I fly about once a month. This will be cutting down drastically once I move and have no job, and no longer have funds for travel… however in my travels (which are notably less then many friends of mine who travel for work) I have always hated waiting in line.

From trying to pull into the airport terminal to unload my excessive baggage*; to waiting in line to check-in; to the security gates; to the bar for a drink; to the attendant taking my ticket; to down the corridor; to the plane and then standing in the narrow isles while watching people attempt to cram far too much into a far too small space… none of this has ever been much fun for me. **

For a while I would wait in the bar until the final moment, just before they were to call my name as one of the few last lingering passengers not waiting to be corralled into the belly of the plane with anxious anticipation. This however proved to be problematic for a few reasons.

The first is that when you are obviously the last person on the plane, people who have waited in those multitude of lines aren't too keen on the lone girl walking happily down the isle as though she hasn’t a care in the world. The other problem is when everyone else on a plane has already crammed their items into the overhead compartments then my last remaining bag has no where to go, thus prolonging the process of take-off further and the glares and “pffts” from the passengers increase.

So I have come up with a solution. I don’t mind being on the plane prior to takeoff, it’s merely the line of people that bother me. So now when the flight attendant no announces, “We will now begin boarding flight ABC. First class passengers, Reward Member passengers, Passengers with small children and those needing extra time to board may now step forward” I step forward. I need extra time.

I feel as though it’s no biggie. I am one person who will immediately find my emergency row window seat, grab my book and not bother anyone for the remainder of the flight.*** I do have slight guilt, but not enough that it shall outweigh my sincere lack of love for those lines. I don’t think this is bad karma, as I am not hurting anyone, but if you have an argument otherwise, I am open to hearing it.

I may post while I am there, but if not… have an amazing weekend!

* My father always told me that one must be prepared for anything. That rule (and thus WAY too many bags) has followed me since.
** Though I am hardly implying this is your favorite part.
*** Now that I have blogged this they will probably stonewall me while attempting to board today.

I’m so excited I just can’t hide it...

2006-04-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

Not much to say beyond what a difference a week makes… I am like a child awaiting Christmas morning in my anxious anticipation of this long upcoming weekend. It will be merely a few days time until I will put on my blue suede shoes with my feet walking ten feet off of Beale.

As I am at a loss, I shall just give you a picture, talk amongst yourselves…

“It’s Official, We’re Engaged!”

2006-03-31T09:46:00.000-08:00

The time has come to share with the whole world… my mother is engaged. She is planning on get married next month during Memorial Day weekend, the same weekend that she met her fiancé last year. My mother is giddy with excitement, I have never heard her so happy before and I am so glad that she found a great guy whom she will be able to spend her future years with.

Ok… now that I have said the requisite, “so happy for her” schpeel (which I truly do mean)… here is my slanted take on the entire thing. My mom has become so different in this last year. Not bad, just different. For example, hiring a photographer for her annual Christmas party... really is this necessary? She has taken relatively normal things and made them into a very big, overly stressed about, deal.

Now I am all for making the ordinary extraordinary, making daily life special and memorable, but she seems to have taken this to an entire new level. For example she told me last night, “OCG, I am so excited that you are going to be home in May, this just works out perfectly… you will be able to help me pick out a wedding dress and everything!”

I responded, “Mom, I do believe that a nice white suit is wholly appropriate for a second wedding.”

She had decided that since she was a hippy girl for her first wedding and had merely sown her sundress to wear for the occasion, this time she would do it right and make it memorable with a real wedding dress. I can see where she is coming from, and I support her in her choice. Hours upon hours spent at dress shops because I don’t yet have a job and she is ready to take all the time in the world with me? Priceless.

In addition, when I returned to Portland I had planned on staying for about a month with M&M. He has a large two bedroom flat and is only occupying one of the rooms. I told him I was definitely interested in staying there, at least until JP and I are able to find a place to live… however I never followed up with him.

I spoke with him the other day and he told me that another friend of his just asked if he could move in. This means I might be staying at my mother’s house upon my return to Portland, which I am not too happy about. Not only will I be there in the midst of the crazy preparation crunch for her second “Big Day” but if I don’t find a place soon I will have to stay with her and her new husband, in their “honeymoon stage”… that could ruin me for life…

Even worse is that when I brought this up last night, she said, “I will be two floors above you, you won’t hear anything. And don’t worry I promise not to scream in the middle of the night.” I proceeded to throw up a little in my mouth… When’s the last time I ate corn?

I am very happy for her. If anyone deserves this, she does. I will also now have two step brothers and a smokin’ step sister… keeping the family stock up, gotta love that…

Picking Your Battles

2006-03-30T11:51:00.000-08:00

I hate hair. Ok, I don’t hate all hair… I am still diggin’ these dark locks upon my head. It’s when they don’t stay there that has become a problem. My roommate, LJ, hates hair on the bathroom floor. When one has long, nearly black hair it will stand out on a white tile bathroom floor like a neon “cocktail” sign, glowing in the night. I am pretty good about getting whatever I see picked up, but at times I may miss some. This is such an ongoing issue with my menopausal (read: crazy at times) roommate.

It’s not like LJ doesn’t have some serious hair herself. Ranging in colors from blond to dark brown, she has a lot of hair to go around… however she is convinced that she doesn’t lose any. Seriously convinced that it is all me, regardless of the shades of yellow strands that might linger on the bathroom floor. But I don’t fuss over it… it’s hair, I pick it up, throw it away, and don’t think about it.

If anything was to bother me, it would be the weekly clogging of the drain, because LJ doesn’t like to use the strainer that is placed in our tub, created to gather all lose hair… I suppose since “she doesn’t lose hair” it wouldn’t be necessary… but when I am up blurry eyed and trying to figure out why the shower won’t drain at ~~5am~~ ~~6am~~ when I wake up late daily for work and I have to dig soggy hair out of the drain, it bugs. I have mentioned it once… but I generally just put it in the waste basket and move on with my day. It’s not worth getting completely bent out of shape, it’s hair.

So as this is (seemingly) a fairly equal thing, I was surprised last week when I got out of bed, rushed once again to hop in the shower and I looked at my sink in the bathroom (we each have our own sinks, and “sides” to the bathroom) and saw that my roommate had taken her time the evening before to sweep the entire bathroom floor, and took all of the contents of the dust pan, including dirt and hair, and had dumped it in my sink. Hello passive-aggressive.

I confronted her that night, where she reiterated to me that she doesn’t lose hair. A few days later, just after she rushed out of the house, I went into the bathroom and saw her hair covering the floor. I will tell you it took great restraint to not repay her the favor of leaving her hair in her sink. Almost everything I had really… but alas I picked it up and threw it in the garbage can… sometimes being the better (read: more sane) person has enough satisfaction in itself.

You would think that I would have a weird hair thing too, as I hate hair on my body, less on my head and whatever whatever down there. Not that I have ever been a hairy person, what little hair I do have on my body is blond, and I can go three days or more without shaving my legs and wear a skirt and nobody is the wiser, you really can’t see it… but I try and keep my legs shaved as well as my arms (I don’t know why as you can’t see a difference, but I like the softness of it when all of the hair is gone).

However with all of the tweezing and shaving I do… the only place I get waxed anymore is my nose. I actually love having my nose hair waxed out. It doesn’t hurt like you would think and it feels so nice after. Yes, I do realize I pointed out to you that I feel the inside of my nose, but let’s face it, if you ever spent time with me you would know I do this.

I can’t stop touching my nose… when I can feel hair in there it drives me crazy and like some child pressing on a bruise to feel the pain, I continue to touch the hair in my nose allowing it to bother me, until I get it all waxed out. Once it is waxed out, it’s so nice and smooth I can’t keep the tip of my finger out from admiring… sad, but true. I say this today because it is bothering me (read: can’t stop touching it) and I can’t stop thinking about when I will be able to get it waxed next.

So don’t you fret if you see this OCG about town today with her finger gingerly placed in her nostril, I am not picking, oh no, I am merely petting and thinking of smoother times.

I think we have officially crossed the “getting to know you line”…

Martyr Free Zone

2006-03-29T16:27:00.000-08:00

Just in case you or I forget...

CNN Alert: This conversation may be blogged *

2006-03-29T09:22:00.000-08:00

I think I'll start a new life,
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name,
I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,
I think I'll get a lover and fly em out to Spain... **

* My friends teased me last summer that I needed to get a T-shirt that stated the above. My close friends know I have a blog and they know they will probably be mentioned at one time or another. This blog is my life. I fully realize that some people write fun stories and don’t intertwine their real life with their blog life often. I am not one of those people.

This blog has always been pretty much TMI all the way around. I used to share my stories with my girlfriends and decided that I would start blogging them because I was bored at work. I have always enjoyed writing and have never been one to shy away from sharing everything. That’s me, it always has been, it most likely always will be.

For the most part I give a heads up to someone who reads this blog before I include something they told me, chatted at me, or emailed me. Again, for the most part. If something is disclaimered non-bloggable and it had nothing to do with me anyway then I wouldn’t share it. If it happened to me, this (again) is my life, my point of view and everything will be told from my side of the story. It’s the only one I know.

My world has changed since I began this blog, so my point of view shall as well… As with everyone else, my life is in constant evolution. I feel this more so with the impending move coming up. This past weekend I thought about changing my blog… no longer desiring to be OC Girl or write any of my sexinoc stories… I just felt over it all. But I realized that the blog, too, shall merely evolve with me… so perhaps you shall see some changes… maybe it will just me more of the same ol’ same ol’… I hope not.

I found
A new face
A new image staring back at me
Let the Cool
Goddess Rust Away
Let the Cool
Goddess Rust Away
You so different
In a different way
But what goes up has so far down to fall
So go salvage
Some of that human dignity
It'll be a long
Hard
Road ***

Maybe I shall no longer be OC Girl, but O Cool Goddess ****… I think with this move, wherever it may take me, I will be different. I have no idea what the long road in front of me shall bestow, but I am ready for this trek of change. But if you meet me along the way, be careful of what you say or do to me, it may be blogged.

** Augustana, “Boston”
*** Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, “Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away”
**** Relating to the song and change, not to how much I love myself.

Flava of Love

2006-03-26T18:55:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks ago I was talking with one of my girlfriends when she asked if I was going to watch the season finale of The Bachelor. I laughed and said that I never watched those shows, although I contemplated auditioning for the bachelor when they came through OC, I assumed with my luck I would actually be chosen, and I wouldn’t want to go.

She said, “You should be on it, you are gorgeous and funny, you’d be famous.” I told her that I couldn’t be on that show, I would never fight over a guy like that. My test to that statement came this weekend.

For almost the last eight months I have been in the midst of a pseudo-relationship with EB, a guy I meant through this very blog [commence with shock and horror now]. Longitudely challenged, we have kept our relationship to hours upon hours on the phone, emailing, chatting and the occasional visits when possible. We have never been committed although EB has been completely faithful to me this entire time, not dating anyone, not even holding tha hand of another girl, let alone kiss anyone or have sex. We have always been very open and honest with one another. If you have read one of my sexinoc stories they didn’t occur without his prior knowledge.

EB calls and wakes me up every morning. I call him and talk to him on my entire ride to work. Once I get to work we chat throughout the day, until he gets home from work, which is nothing more than my lunch time so I call him and talk throughout the hour. When I get off a couple hours later I call and talk to him on my way home and we talk in the evening save for a few hours. We fall asleep while on the phone and throughout the evening I can hear him occasional say “Baby?” I reply, “I am here” and we fall back asleep. And round in circles we go with “phone” thrown in at least a couple times a day for good measure. Very high school, I know.

When I decided to move away from OC a few months ago, I really started to think about how this might be the time that I could take at least two weeks off to go stay with him and see if in fact, we would be ready to move our relationship several steps forward and I would move there.
Around the same time he met another girl (through the fucking blogs, no less). This didn’t really bother me much until one day I read her blog, and she talked about being in love with him. I got quite sick to my stomach and no longer allow myself to read her blog as it just upsets me. I talked to EB about it and he assured me that nothing is going on, on his side.

EB and I were both looking forward to me coming there in May, talking about the plans for our future. I had playfully been looking at housing in the area to get an idea of what the housing was like and where we may live… honestly nothing had been decided, but was fun for us to talk out the “what if’s” of it all…

He developed an interest in the other girl. I couldn’t get mad, it’s not like I haven’t had real life crushes… but he wanted to meet her. This was odd to me as I anticipated being there in just over a month and couldn’t understand why after all of this time telling me how much he loved me and saw his future when he looked in my eyes, why he would want to meet her “to see”.

I told EB Friday night that I would commit to him (I haven’t committed myself to someone in eight years. I may have long-term non-committed relationships, but never committed). Saturday morning he told me he was not sure about us having a commitment, as I have always been hesitant with the two of us being together, if I was doing this out of a jealous reaction (which I have done before) and we didn’t work out, he would be forever mad that he passed up the chance to meet her.

Now, I am no soothsayer. The future is anyone’s guess… but to be burdened with the possibility of being held responsible for the demise of a relationship that hadn’t yet begun, was not something that I was willing to do. EB said that he needed a week to figure things out. I told him I was leaving all choices up to him, if he wanted to meet her or wait until after I came there, this would have to be his decision. After we got off the phone I realized what a relief I felt. Whatever choice he would be making in the upcoming days, the future would not be in my hands.

I however, had no idea that “time to himself thinking” would consist of the time in between hanging up the call from me to picking it back up to call her and invite her to visit for the weekend.

I know that I have had random hook-ups in these past months, almost all of them were pre-known to him and none of them consisted of a guy who had feelings for me nor that I had an interest in, coming and staying for the weekend. Upon finding out that she was on her way to his house, I obviously got upset. EB called me and told me he would have her turn around. Sure, a six hour drive down to his house, and she gets a phone call part way through that she is going to have to turn around. He chose her for a reason and so she was going to come.

In anticipation of her arrival he texted me that he thought he made the biggest mistake of his life. I answered EB saying, “so do I”. We both reminded each other that we loved each other. I called him (which is unlike me in these seemingly “break-up” situations) crying and just asked him what did he expect to happen? Was he now going to give up on nine months of us being “together” for some chick he has been talking to for merely a month?

I arrived at Le’s (not wanting to sleep by myself) took a sleeping pill and fell asleep… for a bit. I awoke up throughout the night upset, knowing he was having sex with her, when just the day before he was discussing our future children with me. I took another half of a sleeping pill... anything to escape my head and got a few more minutes rest.

I returned to my house this morning trying to get settled into the reality of the situation and deal with it. I sat down and turned on the TV, and what else would be on, other than “You’ve Got Mail”… I watched it through occasional tears when I received a text from him, “I just keep thinking about you. Sleeping. Crying. Hurting. I made a horrible mistake. I will always regret it. And I will always love you.” So, he texts me while with her? I became even more confused.

I decided I had to get out of my house and headed down to the local coffee shop. Lalo called and gave me the mandatory girl “you’re so much better than him anyway” pep talk. I hung up and the phone rang. EB.

“Hi. How are you doing?” What was I supposed to say to that? Why was he calling me? Where was she?

“How do you think I am? I’m trying to be okay.”

We proceeded to have a several minute conversation while I gathered my things and left the shop in tears and had to once again return home, talking with him the entire way. He was out getting them breakfast. He reminded that he loved me more than anything, this was the biggest mistake of his life, and he just would feel better if I yelled at him so he knew that he was getting what he deserved. I told him I couldn’t do that, I am not like that. We got off the phone as he arrived back to his house, where she was waiting for the food.

In the matter of twelve hours EB has broken my heart and continues to be a jerk to this poor girl at his house, texting me and calling me when he’s away from her. (Yes bitter and heartbroken girl calling someone a jerk.)

It truly amazes me when someone you think is incredibly nice, too nice even, will rear their ugly “asshole” head. It shocks me because it is so unexpected. I have decided from this point on I will only be dating assholes, at least I know what to expect from them, and won’t be surprised by it.

Yes, I will never be one of those girls that throws down for a guy or argues over any man who doesn’t have balls enough to make up his mind and not be selfish with the hearts of others. My time and my heart are more important to me than that, and they should be as important to someone who truly loves me.

The problem? I still love him.

What a Tool!

2006-03-23T13:25:00.000-08:00

It is official, Duct Tape has been considered by Forbes as the “Greatest Tool Ever”.

I mean you can use it as fashion. It can be used for cleavage. * Even the removal of warts. You can even make a wallet out of it. The options are endless… and now you can get it in pink… can life get any better than this?

* Is it wrong that I look at this picture and just think of how much I love that sweater?

Humpfday...

2006-03-22T13:06:00.000-08:00

I haven’t been in the mood to post… I have random things pouring through my head, yet nothing sticking.

I shall leave you with one of the very few places where I would like to be right now...

The Penn of Sin

2006-03-20T10:48:00.000-08:00

Friday morning I thought I might not even be going out that night for St. Patrick’s Day. Instead I never went home. My friend always refers to Portland as “the vortex” that sucks you within it in just a few days time. If that is true, then the Newport Peninsula is the “super vortex” that will suck you in, chew you up and spit you out somewhere random in just a few drinks time.

Friday night Beach Chic, Natasha and I hit the bars, once again reminding ourselves of just how much of an “amateur night” holidays like that are. I will say, however, that there is a certain sense of importance when every bar has long lines of people waiting upwards of an hour outside and we never had to wait in one line at all. It helps that the girls both work in the bars on the Penn and that Beach Chic put her tongue down every door-guy’s throat.

The tone for the evening was set while approaching the first bar of the night. We saw an older guy in a flashing-lights necklace attempting to make a citizen arrest on another older guy. Not much will bring groups of police officers quicker than two old men drunk and wrestling, while Flashy Necklace screams “Citizens arrest!”

I was in the mood Friday night as was Beach Chic and Natasha. We thought of all of the days to get laid, a holiday like St. Patrick’s Day would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Unfortunately I didn’t take into account that I would have to be coherent enough to shoot the fucking fish. I was told Saturday morning by Natasha that two guys approached us in a bar. After some chit chat they said something along the lines of, “Do you guys want to hook up.” (Romantic, I know) I gave an enthusiastic “Yes!” and then proceeded to fall on my face.

Natasha promptly removed me from the bar (through my stumbling), after being unable to find Beach Chic, and the two of us grabbed some pizza. Sitting on the curb eating it, two other guys walked by. As they did Natasha said some smart ass comment to them, which she and I found quite amusing. Getting up to walk down to Natasha’s car, carrying our shoes and a pizza box, we saw the two guys had just gotten in their car parked on the street. The driver asked us if we wanted a ride. We were so relieved to not need to walk. Natasha and I got to his car door… as he stepped on his gas, peeled out and laughed at us, leaving us standing barefoot on the curb. Batting 1000, lades and gentlemen, batting 1000.

Natasha and I retired to her house, while Beach Chic had met up with some guys she has known forever and proceeded to hook up with a guy that has, for years, been her “arch nemesis”. They opened their eyes Saturday morning, looked at one another and both had a collective “Not you!” moment… the love.

Natasha and I returned to Beach Chic’s house around 8 am on Saturday morning and we decided it was necessary for a Saturday Funday. Looking smashing in bright yellow sweat pants, my long sleeved maroon Roll Tide T-shirt and the previous evening’s makeup, we headed out to open up some bars… I don’t remember much past 2pm, but know that I woke up topless in Beach Chic’s bed and missed the Bama game… the only thing I really wanted to see. Brilliant.

Needless to say, yesterday was spent in bed, licking our wounds from the rough days before and playing catch up with one another in a feeble attempt to piece together what had exactly happened throughout the course of the last few days. My sore throat that had disappeared last week is back and I once again have told myself, “I am never drinking again, and this time I mean it.” At least until Friday… I have plans on the Penn.

The face of love?

2006-03-17T11:21:00.000-08:00

I have been trying to included more images in my posts… yesterday will searching for images I found one in particular that got me thinking. What do I look like when I have an orgasm?

This girl is totally cute in the final picture… it is the previous ones (the few two especially) that freaked me out. Do I look like that? Do I look like I am in excruciating pain or angry when I come?

I had an old roommate that told me one time her boyfriend told her when she came her eyes rolled way back… from then on out she ensured that wouldn’t happen again by making sure her eyes were shut when she came. Should I be doing this?

And how do you know? I thought I would ask EB how I looked, but what is a guy going to say? He will feel as though it’s a loaded question, I should just precede it with “Do these pants make my butt look big?” I mean will a guy ever be honest if he feels as though I am frightening looking when I come. I hardly think so.

I suppose I could do it in front of a mirror, but generally upon reaching my O, I am not focused on my face, so it might be difficult. I could video tape it, but that’s, Aofall kinda creepy and Bofall difficult to do by myself… and I don’t think this OCG needs to be on anyone’s video tape…

Anyway just a thought for the weekend… maybe I can find someone to tell me by the weekend’s end what image I might leave.

I Am Awesome

2006-03-16T11:33:00.000-08:00

A while a go a friend, Clark, was telling me about how he was taking a picture of his cock for his girlfriend while at work. He decided that a picture of a non-flaccid member would be better, so he took the appropriate measures to get the desired salute. He took the picture of his hard cock (what did we do before camera phones?) and after the picture was done, he was left standing in his work bathroom with his pants down and a boner. In lieu of allowing I to go to waste he finished it right there in the bathroom. I thought this outrageous. I could never do that.

Never say never…

I had an awesome time out last night with Beach Chic and Natasha, my newest best friend. My evening started out with the three of us discussing details of sex stuff (like all girls do) in the laundry mat drinking Cooks champagne splits (stayin’ classy) which lead to meeting this very cute guy also doing his laundry (so the place to meet guys) He already knows that Beach Chic and I like spankings… brill! We have a date for laundry next week… and by “date” I mean that the three of us girls will be returning to the same place around the same time to stalk said “cute guy”.

Later, after bar hopping and a drunk photo shoot of ourselves… I continued to drink way too much. I passed out… only to awake this morning in a panic. I was sleeping on some chair, in the house of a guy I didn’t know and dragging the girls out and back to Beach Chic’s so I could rush to work… good times.

I think I was still drunk when I got to work. Actually let’s be honest… I was driving to work, talking to EB and he said, “Baby I think you’re still drunk.” I responded, “I’m not drunk, I’m driving!” Which apparently didn’t make him feel much better. However I tried my best to make him feel better through some naughty chat talk… mentioning that I didn’t put any panties on when I hurriedly dressed for work this morning didn’t hurt…

Getting a little more into the chat conversation we were having, I was beginning to wish that I had worn panties… when EB told me to go into the bathroom and take care of myself. I smirked at the thought… then told him I’d “brb”. I did it! I proved to myself, once again, that I am the best I’ve ever had… even at work.

What if I get addicted to this and can’t stop touching myself while at work? Although as our bathroom door doesn’t lock (only the stalls) I can imagine that it would only take one girl walking in on me to change that new self-love fascination. But it was sooo good… hmm… I think I’ll “brb”

Word of the day: Board*

2006-03-15T11:49:00.000-08:00

You know what to do…

This is the fourth post I have written today… but they have all been to deep, too personal, to random, or too shit talkin’**

So I shall leave you merely with this, my motivation for my attitude makeover today:

* If someone says they’re “bored” are you still supposed to scream? Is this based on the word itself, or do homonyms count?
** But LJ did reach my boiling point…

In the whole wide world…*

2006-03-14T08:51:00.000-08:00

* That is today’s words of the day, boys and girls… whenever you hear someone say “in the whole wide world” you must throw up your arms and scream.

When I was in high school I was a bit of a ring leader. By my senior year I wasn’t allowed in any class that had a substitute teacher. It’s not that I was a bad kid, but I would just get the class riled up and things would go down hill, getting out of control for the teacher and causing my prompt removal from the class.

My sophomore year in Spanish class we had this substitute teacher who (to this day I still swear) was mildly retarded. I am not being mean, it’s true… he was known throughout our district and beyond as “that retarded substitute Spanish teacher guy”.

Sitting in Spanish class with him at the chalk board he look at me and said, “you are a cotorra, a chatterbox”. On the the board he slowly spelled out the word, while I turned to class and told them that this was our word for the day, whenever we heard it we had to throw our arms up and scream. Everyone laughed and agreed.

I looked to the instructor and asked him, “How do you pronounce that word again?”

“co-to-rrrr-a”

The class erupted, extended arms waving in the air and loud “ahhhhhhh” screams filled the classroom.

I then had one of the swiftest removals from a classroom I had ever experienced in my high school career. Really, one of the swiftest removals from a classroom in the whole wide world…

Since then I have mellowed out some and now try to only use my power of influence for good, and not evil purposes… and in turn karma has rewarded me.

Sunday I went grocery shopping, which is a very odd thing around my house. I actually took a couple pictures this last weekend that I was going to post (perhaps later). The first was of our liquor cabinet. It is so overflowing with alcohol that we have had to expand it to be more of a liquor closet. Our refrigerator is almost an extension of said closet. In it we have wine, champagne, beer and virtually any mixer you can think of. But no food. (Condiments, but I am unsure that they actually constitute "food".) So I made the brave decision to purchase food on Sunday. I am still working on my domestic goddess membership.

I went to the store and grabbed the important things; logs for the fire, water and sugar snap peas (I am currently addicted to sugar snap peas, can’t get enough). DaBod called while I was in the checkout line and decided that would be a good time to argue why I was leaving So Cal, and discuss the merit of him not only returning to Portland, but us living together. I told him I would call him in just a few. As I left the store, pushing my shopping cart I called him and told him that hell frozen over would still not make us living together a good idea, actually it was the worst idea in the whole wide world. I returned my shopping cart to its corral and left, still on my mobile.

Yesterday morning I went into my handbag and realized that my wallet was not there. I change my hand bags almost daily, and it wouldn’t be the first time that I had left something behind in the previous bag, so I didn’t think anything of it. Until last night when I got home and realized I could find it no where. I searched my bedroom (cursing myself for not cleaning it this weekend when I had the chance), went to my car searching the trunk and seats… and came to the firm conclusion that I did not have my wallet.

In addition to the irritation that losing one’s wallet can create, I had about $500 in cash in it (I know, I know, bad idea). The last place I remembered having it was at the checkout stand. EB suggested I call the store, so I did. On hold the song “all I need is a miracle” was playing while I waited to find out if indeed they did have my wallet. The manager came back, they had the wallet. Miracle indeed.

I promptly went to the store - post shower. (I wanted to look my best when trying to get my wallet. In addition my drivers license picture shows me with blond braids, now I have a nearly black coif and couldnt find any other ID to bring with me.) I picked up my wallet (blaming losing it on the distraction of Dabod). All cards and cash were in place… that was the best news in the whole wide world.

I guess that three wallets in as many weeks had been turned in… the last had $6000 cash in it… all in place when the owner came to reclaim it. God bless honest people… and Laguna Beach… definitely Laguna Beach… only the best place in the whole wide world.

Ups and Downs *

2006-03-13T11:21:00.000-08:00

Up: Roommate was gone all weekend.
Down: It poured down rain and the winds howled throughout the weekend evenings.
Up: Made sitting by the firelight that much better.
Down: Not as great as if he was here with me.
Up: I have rediscovered my love for tea this last week.
Down: I need to read the warning instructions and heed them much more closely in the future for certain teas.
Up: Le came over and stayed the night on Saturday night.
Down: She didn’t feel like being alone as her boyfriend had just broken up with her.
Up: I am one weekend closer to moving home
Down: I am still without a job or a place to live.
Down: My mother’s boyfriend (btw- I hate saying that, it sounds so… unsophisticated) called me and told me (although my mother had offered him to move my things up to Oregon) he will be unable to do so with his work schedule.
Down: I priced moving by myself. That will be (at least) $1200 and two driving trips (one with a moving van and one to bring my car up) that I wasn’t anticipating needing to take.
Up: It could prove to be one of the best road trips ever.
Down: I am unsure how I should transport my fish Sampson during a road trip.
Up: Yesterday while sitting on my couch in the living room, talking on my mobile I saw a whale out of my front window. Last year we would see whales and dolphins at least once every weekend, however yesterday was the first time this year I had seen one. I was stoked needless to say.
Down: How can there be too much of a down after something so cool?
Up: Only four more days until the weekend.

* Idea stolen from a friend… thanks…

I hope you have a fabulous weekend!

2006-03-10T09:22:00.000-08:00

I was going to type a “real” post but due to illness and lack of motivation I shall merely leave you with these words to live by… enjoy.

Bean's Breath

2006-03-07T11:01:00.000-08:00

I am notorious in my office for my insatiable appetite. I eat all of the time. I look forward to employees’ birthdays, holiday and when anyone brings in treats. I eat them in abundance and everyone knows it. I am often teased about it, but I don’t mind as long as they keep tasty treats coming in…

A guy in our office whom we call Banana brought in cookies the other day. They are almost gone, and although normally I have brought-upsies and wouldn’t eat the last of someone’s food, in this office I do not care. If there is food left, I have no problem polishing off the remainder of it. Yesterday, as I reached into the cookie container Bean (another guy in our office) walked by, stopped and talked with me for a second and moved on. As I began to pull my handful of cookies out of the canister I smelled this sour-from-hell smell. Bean’s breath.

Bean has some serious issues with his breath, it is well known around the office. It literally makes you sick to your stomach to smell. Standing three feet away you can smell this searing sour stench of wretchedness… and I was blasted. I placed the lid back on and walked away, unable to fathom placing any food in my mouth with this nasty smell permeating my nose.

I think I may have found a new diet plan…

Mama’s Man

2006-03-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

Almost since high school I have found through the men I date, as important as I may be in their life, I am not “The Woman” in their life. Their mothers are. Two years ago for Christmas I went home with Da Bod to Napa Valley to spend the holidays with his entire family on his mother’s side.

I arrived to his mother’s house and met her for the first time. Shortly thereafter she told Da Bod where he could find his folded laundry. I told her that this explained so much, and I was going to unfold all of his laundry and make him refold it. While saying this I laughed, implying I was merely joking, but had I not been making a first imression the overwhelming feeling to dump over this lazy asses basket of freshly washed and folded clothing may have prevailed.

Da Bod had made it clear to his mother that we were not dating. This was wholly true… however although we weren’t dating we still had been sleeping together for two years and I still thought that I was going to marry him. (Sad, and it grosses me out now, but too true.)

His mother had her guest bedroom set up for me, and a camping pad and blankets for Da Bod on the living room floor. I was a little surprised by this. Not that I anticipated screwing her son in her own house, but I didn’t understand why exactly he was going to be sleeping on the floor when I had a queen size bed to myself. He said that his mother preferred it that way, since he and I were “just friends”.

That night we both fell asleep in our respective beds. Not too long after his mother went to bed Da Bod crawled in bed with me. We slept the night away and quite early the next morning I heard a soft voice say, “Oh I see” as his mother quietly walked into the room, turned and left. Da Bod got up not too much later and returned to his roll on the floor of the living room. As though he was going to fool or convince his mother that indeed we were merely friends and would never fathom sharing a bed.

A couple nights later, after Christmas dinner with about fifty family members, I offered my seat up in the family room up to Da Bod’s mom and proceeded to walk towards Da Bod, just planning on sitting on the floor by his chair. His mother firmly grabbed my arm and said, “No you sit over here.” Placing me on the opposite side of the room. His aunt looked at her with surprise and then to me and said, “OCG, it’s okay. You can go sit over there if you want.” Not wanting to cause a problem, and honestly not caring that much, I stayed where I had been placed.

I know Da Bod’s mom likes me, his entire family fell in love with me. However, although extreme, this type of experience hadn’t been the first time and wouldn’t be the last time I experienced such things with mothers and their sons. And through this experience I have come to a personal conclusion as to why this is.

All too often, women feel as though they have been screwed over by various men in their life. From fathers to boyfriends to husbands, a lot of women feel like they have been cheated in life by a man. In order to rectify this they (I believe without self-realization) have a son and create their perfect man.

They adore him, he loves her unconditionally and always wants the best for her. When in a bind she can call on him and he will be there for her. Her son is everything she ever wanted in a man. I scare her that I would take that away from her. So the older I get (I know, I should be calling AARP for my card) I have found that this self-made belief is merely confirmed through time.

I wonder if I am the only one that feels this way… I know that some girls have had similar experiences, but I wonder if perhaps I am just picking the wrong guys? Now I wonder if mothers’ feel the same way if their son is gay… or does that seem like double man-power for her? Oh the conundrums of a single girl’s life…

The End is Near

2006-03-06T11:36:00.000-08:00

My downstairs neighbor moved out on Friday. I was sad to see him go. I was very very sad to see his wireless internet connection go… for months I have had his strong, secured, signal… now I am stuck roaming through the house, laptop in hand trying to figure out where the strongest signal could be located. I was without the internet almost all weekend, and I am beginning to wonder what exactly I did prior to having my laptop…

I fully realize I could pay for my own internet connection, like a good upstanding citizen would, but at this point I feel like it will be more of a sunk cost. It is official. I will be returning to Portland May 1st. Now that I have given my roommate notice and told my friends and family this is truly occurring, I am now in the in between place of finding those "frivolous" things such as "a job" and "a place to live". I have no fear that these things shall indeed be accomplished… as they must be…

It has really been hitting me that I won’t be here much longer… I have begun to think of all of the things that I will miss… I know I will miss people too, but thanks to the power of the www and digital cameras, I won’t feel so far away. It’s the Coffee Nazi in the morning that I will miss… seeing the ocean and the beach every day… the sun. I have a feeling that for the rest of my life I will refer to my time when I lived in the Penthouse in Laguna Beach. I will miss that this summer… and every time it rains in Oregon, I fear.

So I have been attempting to do what I can to appreciate the time I have left. I went hiking up the hill behind my house yesterday. I went to the beach to read yesterday afternoon (oh that’s what I did prior to the www) I took some pics (because I need more of the ocean?) and of the cutest little boy. I am just really trying to savor every moment I have. However, I was reminded yesterday of one thing I won’t miss. Tourists.

While sitting on my blanket this loud, rude and morbidly obese family came down and set up camp right next to me. I am not too accustomed to seeing tourists at my beach. Although not private, there is no public parking available, and it isn’t pointed out with any signs. For the most part, even in the height of summer, generally I don’t see anyone down there but the families that live nearby.

As they shouted at one another, yelled at their children and were just horrible, another family member came down to join them wearing a t-shirt that said “I’m Shy, but I have a big cock”. Had he had a tattoo across his forehead reading “White Trash” it couldn’t have been clearer. After yelling for a few minutes at one another, I gathered my things and moved my blanket about twenty feet away.

This family proceeded to yell at one another so much, and so loudly, that the half a dozen families that were on the beach sat and stood staring at the Klumps. Even the kids gawked, this was a spectacle that we don’t often see. It took everything I had to not ask them to please tone it down. When your child is standing ten feet from you, and you are screaming any words pouring forth from your mouth… including “HOW COME YOU AREN’T HEARING ME?!?!” I just would like to point out that everyone down the length of the beach can hear you… it is your poor parenting skills that have caused your child to drown out your incessant howling and no longer listen to you. I returned home (as most of the families on the beach did) shortly thereafter.

Throughout the remainder of the day I worked on a mental list of the places that I haven’t yet been to while here. I still really want to see Joshua Tree National Park… I also have a new motivation for going running on the beach every day… how much longer, and when again, will I be blessed with that opportunity? Not unlike my now lost internet connection… how we take for granted those things we become accustomed to…

Ladies, watch your back?

2006-03-03T00:10:00.000-08:00

Doing this blog for over a year I have made more amazing virtual friends then I ever knew. I never even thought I would communicate with people beyond my posts, but now I am unsure if I could really get on without these friends. I know my days would be more consumed with work… rather than chatting and emailing… the thought of that makes me shudder.

I also have learned through this last year that there are some fucking weirdoes on the internet. Most everyone is cool, but there are some guys out there that have the opportunity to read our personal thoughts, and feel a real connection with the girls whom they are reading about.

This has caused problems. I have heard of girls that have had to delete their blogs, change email addresses and felt all around uncomfortable with guys that have begun to contact them. I have learned to be fairly tough when communicating with people outside of this blog. Everyone gets a trial period with me.

I don’t do these things to be mean, but I have learned through experience that this must be done. If you can withstand this trial of sorts, then perfect. Of course I am not this difficult in the real world, however, I also don’t share everything with the Average Joe walking down the street that I share with you, so you can understand my apprehension.

Some guys have been freaky, plain and simple. I have terminated conversation with them or I have slapped them down so hard I am sure that they still feel the stinging. I have no problem hurting some pushy wanna-be blover’s feelings. The problem is his not mine.

However while perusing my daily reads, I have seen these aggressive, stalkerish guys on other girls’ blogs… and I get worried. For some reason I begin to get this protective big-sister feeling. Do I warn these girls? I fully recognize that my experience with some emailer may be completely different than someone else's, but should I open my mouth (or type a message) to these girls? What if it’s someone that I know through all the behind-the-blog talking has caused problems with more than one girl?

I don’t want to feel like the blog police, and that would never be my intent. So I come to you readers… what do you think? I would want someone to email me if they saw someone commenting to me. Merely for heads up, not a blog-ban… but I don’t know how this should be handled… anyone...? anyone…?

Open Mouth...

2006-03-01T10:41:00.000-08:00

When Le was in school for massage therapy she would always come home sharing something new she had learned in her classes. One evening she shared, “Most people have three finger mouths.” I looked at her, unsure of what she meant. She explained to me that most people can fit three fingers (on their side) in their mouth and that is generally as wide as their mouth can open.

I looked at her and said, “Oh, mine is much larger. I fit my foot in it all the time.”

I am notorious for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. And unfortunately many times this has involved guys names… no never at that time… but I have yet to meet a guy that appreciates being called, at anytime, by another guys name.

The first time I had this encounter was about six years ago (Jesus, time flies). T and I were no longer seeing on another but he had “full time custody” of our dog. He made this ridiculous rule that he had to be with me if I was to take the dog out. Ridiculous, yet I had to adhere to it if I was to ever see my beloved poochie.

At this time I had already begun seeing another guy, Mike (I have to use his real name, lest this story not work). T thought I might be seeing someone, but I never confirmed it with him. We had gone down to the Waterfront park and I was playing fetch with the dog when T intervened and started wrestling with and giving the dog a hard time. I got irritated with T and yelled, “Mike!”

T immediately looked at me, “What?”

I quickly replied, “MykGod, leave the dog alone!” He cocked his head, looking at me oddly for a moment, and then returned his attention to the dog. Whew… (I was actually quite proud of myself for the quick thinking.)

One night, just over a year ago, I met a guy in a bar (oh, how many tales of love start this way...). Bringing me a drink from the bartender he leaned in and said some sarcastic comment, trying to be funny. I looked at him and exclaimed, “Da Bod!”

He looked at me and said who is “Da Bod?” I think I may have denied ever saying his name, but we both knew better.

I told Da Bod the following day what had happened. He laughed and said, “I like that that happens.” Whatever.

Last week Da Bod came over to my house, prior to us leaving for dinner. He wanted wine and I said I didn’t have any for him. He grabbed one of my roommate’s bottles and I told him not to. He continued to get a glass out and grab the bottle to pour. I looked at him and said, “EB!” Da Bod looked at me and responded, “That’s the first time that has happened.” I suppose nothing reaffirms to a guy that you are over him more than calling him by another guy’s name.

My affinity for foot-in-mouth syndrome is not limited to the wrong-name-calling.

I know I am not the only one who this has happened to. Why do the words, “I love you” want to jump from ones mouth while drowning in the depths of passion? I have stopped myself too many times from have those “awkward moment creating words” from pouring forth out of my mouth… I have revised it so it is more of a casual, “God, I love… this!”

I am not even a super “lovey” type of girl… after we are done, I will generally retire to my side of the bed and you can have yours. I can’t breathe with you trying to cuddle all over me. How do you expect me to sleep? So when these words want to pour forth from my mouth, I have no idea as to where they are coming from.

Towards the beginning when I was with The Man, I had one such moment. “I love you..." I immediately followed that with, “Oh My God. I didn’t mean that!”

Yes, my foot actually fits quite easily in this mouth o’ mine.

Ashes Ashes we all fall down...

2006-03-01T09:16:00.000-08:00

Today is Ash Wednesday, marking the beginning of Lent.

As a good Catholic one must abstain from something for 40 days. I am not a good Catholic. Well, to be honest I am not even Catholic. However in honor of this holy tradition I will normally attempt (and fail) at giving up somthing*… What will you be giving up?

*I was going to give up alcohol, but I didn’t want to set myself up for failure… so I will need more time to think about it…

Feeling G U D good...

2006-02-27T16:31:00.000-08:00

I am passing this on to you because it definitely worked for me and we all could use more calm in our lives.

By following the simple advice I heard on a Dr. Phil show, I have finally found inner peace. He said: finish all the things you have started.

So I looked around to see things I started and hadn't finished; and, before leaving the house this morning I finished off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Baileys, a package of Oreos, the remainder of the Prozac, the rest of the cheesecake, some Saltines and a box of Chocolates.

You have no idea how freaking good I feel.*

*Brought to you by email forwards.

Choosing My Battles

2006-02-27T15:56:00.000-08:00

When I was in the fourth grade I called my mother one night while staying the night with my girlfriend Nicole. Nicole wanted to cut my hair and I called to check if it was okay with my mom first. My mother said that it was fine, only under the stipulation that she would not take me to the salon to have it fixed the next day. I thought this reasonable, after all Nicole told me she had cut other peoples hair before (ahhh, yes the experience of a nine-year-old).

Nicole cut my hair, and although I had no bald spots, it was definitely the work of a nine-year-old. A few weeks later my mother did take me to the salon where my hairstylist stood behind me and grabbing the very incongruent lengths on either side of my head, looked into the mirror with wide eyes and said, “Who did this to you?”

Years later I asked my mom why she let Nicole cut my hair. My mother told me, “As a parent you have to pick your battles. Hair grows back, it was nothing for me to ever get upset about.”

This last weekend I found out some horrible information. Lalo’s mom, my California mama… the woman that we have our weekly dinners with and see often… has been diagnosed with a malignant inoperable tumor. We will get more details today from the doctor, but obviously this was a huge blow to all of us. Many tears have been shed this last weekend in between LJ’s mom in the hospital and Lalo’s mama. Honestly I just want to crawl back into bed a sleep this reality away.

Saturday night on our way to visit mama, she called LaLo and said that she had decided that she wanted to go out to dinner with us. This was huge, mom hadn’t seemed like she would want to do anything for a long time just previously in the day. So we eagerly headed over to take mom out to some Chinese food.

While we were in her kitchen getting ready to leave, she gulped down the last few sips of soda out of a can and then burped. Lalo said, “Mom! God! That’s disgusting!” I looked over and said, “I am sure we have all done worse than a little burp in our own home before.”

We headed out the door and mom grabbed her favorite scarf and put it on. LaLo got upset again, “Mom why are you wearing that? That doesn’t even match your outfit!” I looked at Lalo and grabbed the biggest hat that I could find and put it on my head. Looking at Lalo I said, “They’re fucking clothes… who cares,” and proceeded to walk to the car in my oversized, yet too tight for my head hat. The evening proceeded with a few more incidents like these.

Please don't get me wrong, it's not like I never would comment to someone about their choice of clothing. I am the first to look at one of my friends and say, “I certainly hope you weren’t planning on wearing that out in public.” However, I also am the first to get completely dressed up with my niece in princess clothes and head out for a day of girlie fun.

As we got home I stopped Lalo prior to getting out of her car. I said, “We don’t know how much longer your mother has here on this earth. I think that you will be extraordinarily sad to look back on the last months that you had with her and realize that you were bitching at her about the mundane things that really don’t fucking matter.” We discussed it a bit further and I hope that she realizes what have been the words pouring forth from her mouth.

I get that people deal with grief, and life for that matter, in different ways. But if we really treated each person like this might be the last days that we have with them, wouldn’t it just be so much more pleasant. We would see the battles that we needed preparation for and, in turn, realize those things that really don’t matter. After all, hair grows back.

The Wild Wind

2006-02-25T12:44:00.000-08:00

Stolen from Sizz...

You Are Wind

Strong and overpowering
A force to be reckoned with, no one dares cross you
You have the power to change everything around you

You are best known for: your wrath

Your dominant state: commanding

What Type of Weather Are You?

Freaky Friday

2006-02-24T09:12:00.000-08:00

(If you want to skip the serious stuff... please scroll to the bottom... it's a real treat)

Prayer Please

I am going to try and stay off my soap box that I so naturally have by my side. I have discovered that nothing can make someone so incredibly passionate for a cause, like a loved one being affected. Dottie, LJ’s (my roommate) mother, is in the hospital. After many years of smoking her body has now begun to shut down. She doesn’t have lung cancer, but her body is no longer able to absorb oxygen like it should. This has caused pneumonia, COPD and her heart to swell in attempting to compensate for her under productive lungs. The doctor said if she would have quit 30 years ago, this wouldn’t be a problem. Now they are unsure if she will make it out of the hospital.

I know some of you smoke, I know it is more difficult to quit than anything in the world. Please try and quit. It just isn’t worth it. I do not comprehend why the hell the government allows this to be a legal activity. Cigarettes are killing everyone we love.

CNNing

I have a big mouth. This is how I got the nickname CNN, tell me something and I will broadcast it to the world. Now I have gotten much better about this over the years, and if you tell me not to tell other people and I agree, I won’t tell anyone else. If you tell me something that is so horrifying, ask me to not tell anyone else and I laugh at you… expect it to be on the internet the following day.

On that note…

Da Bod called me last night. I hadn’t spoken with him since his birthday night. We were doing our nearly ritualistic, “making sure you still love me after I was a drunk-ass” phone call to one another. After discussing the other night he said, “I did something and I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

The thoughts running through my head after this comment… bazillions.

He proceeded to tell me, “I went to Tijuana last.”

I just replied, “You got a hooker didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Now I can not tell you the plethora of thoughts streaming through my mind at this time. I don’t hate him, I wouldn’t hate him for that shite, but the fact that I have previously vowed to never again hook up with him has been permanently sealed.

I mean, I can’t imagine such premeditation. It’s not like you are wasted in Vegas with your boys and decided to head to The Ranch… you instead got in a car with two of your ‘buddy’s’ drove an hour into the sleaziest part of a foreign country, went to a whore house, picked out the chick you wanted to fuck and took her upstairs and proceeded to do the deed.

Da Bod is not a bad looking guy. I am at a loss as to why he didn’t just go to a bar and pick up some random chick. This entire thing is beyond me… He told me that he wore a condom, then acted like I was an idiot for even asking such things. Hello?!? You are the dumbass that went to fuck a whore and now you are going to act as though I am off kilter because I asked you if you wrapped that shit up? Then he proceeded to tell me that he scrubbed in the shower for “like ten minutes”. Unless you cut it off and soaked it in bleach for a while, I don’t want to hear about any OCDesque practices you attempted.

Nuts for Trucks

I haven’t had the ::cough:: privilege to see such things, however Hot Momma has apparently seen said item on two trucks… I have read about it in a hilarious book. Apparently this is a phenomena that very high class men participate in.

When driving a truck they will tie a tube sock onto the tow-hitch in the back, and drop two tennis balls side-by-side in the bottom of the sock, giving the illusion of a dangly set of testicles flying behind their vehicle as they drive. (It wasn't until I posted this that I came to realize that there is actually a market for these...)

Now that my friends has “class” written ALL over it. (And I am the single one?)

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!!!

On my mind…

2006-02-23T11:12:00.000-08:00

These things have been running through my mind seemingly constantly for the last few days.

I feel as though I need to stop sharing TMI on this blog… as much as it started out as something fun and frivolous I am becoming self conscious about the things I have been sharing lately. Some of you and I have gotten to know one another better and it is an odd aspect of my life to be familiar with if you hardly know me. Most of you all have blogs and unless it is a “sex” blog you don’t write this shite. Why should I?

I am stressed and excited to move to Portland. I had no idea the cost of living had increased so much… and in the neighborhood that I want to live in, the housing costs are comparable to where I currently live. I am sorry, but the Pearl District is awesome, but I would have never previously considered it something that would give Laguna Beach a run for its money.

I need to find a job in Portland. I assumed in moving back that a pay cut would occur. I also want to change the genre of work that I am currently doing, so I will have to start all over again, most likely at a nearly entry level position. This doesn’t bother me too incredibly much as long as I am doing something I enjoy, and the possibility for growth exists. It still is a big change, and I feel like I should already be on my career path at thirty years old.

At thirty years old, I am not where I imagined myself being. I mean I love my life and feel very blessed to have done the things that I have had the opportunity to experience… but I am surely not on the path to retire at forty, as I don’t even have the career I see myself in a year from now. I also am not in any serious relationship and feel that at this age I should be… I mean if I want kids I should within four years and I am not even interested in anyone right now… how is the world growing up around me and I am staying stagnant?

I had really been proud of myself for quitting almost all of my partying. In between Portland and the other night… as well as have a couple of party weekends in a row, I feel like I am, yet again, making no forward progression in my life.

My mother arrived in town last night with my nephew, Josh, and her boyfriend. I haven’t yet seen them and they are occupying their days with Disneyland and Universal Studios. I however have offered to baby-sit him on Friday night. My sister just forgave me a couple of months ago for last year’s trip to California with my niece. I haven’t hung out with my nephew by ourselves for three years, since he was five. Trying to keep my rep as the “cool auntie” I am trying to come up with things to do… It may end up being a night at Dave n’ Busters. I am excited to see him… and hope to have my room clean by tomorrow. I may need to skip school tonight to ensure it gets done.

Why am I even in school. The writing class is the only one that I really even care about, but find that I haven’t kept up on even that homework. I can come up with a million excuses as to why I haven’t completed my assignments, but they would merely be excuses. I am lazy and can find a bazillion things that I would rather occupy my time with, rather than complete assignment that aren’t even difficult. In addition if I move back to Portland, I am aiming for May or June, so I wouldn’t even be there for the end of the term. So maybe I should just drop out. Yet again proving to myself that I have lack of follow through on virtually anything in my life… How to win friends and influence people at the age of 30.

I am really not in the depths of despair or anything… these thoughts merely floating through and resting themselves in the recesses of my mind and everywhere in between. Thus the melancholiness of the last few days. I have a smile on my face and am fine… it’s a sunshine day, after all.

Amazing what twelve hours of restful sleep can do…

2006-02-23T09:13:00.000-08:00

I had no reason to be in my doldrums yesterday… but a few things just decided to resonate in my being yesterday, thus I allowed myself to slide down those all-too-slippery slopes of self pity.

I hate that I so completely comprehend that attitude and outlook are complete choices on my part yet I still can occasionally get miffed at the world. I will say that it is easily exacerbated by a mad hangover and very little sleep. Merely excuses, I know, but the truth nonetheless. But here I am. Better.

I walked into my bedroom last night, and beyond the wine glasses strewn about with empty wine bottles. I hadn’t planned on drinking the previous evening… but my newly-stopped-pounding-head and heavy eyelids reminded me differently.

I had started out the night before so well. We went to a local Mexican restaurant for dinner. I had a diet coke and coffee with dinner, while Da Bod and his friend, Ben , drank martini’s and then ordered a bottle of wine, which I had one glass of. After dinner I thought we would all be heading home, perhaps having a few drinks when we arrived.

Da Bod decided instead that he wanted to head down to the local dive bar and grab some cocktails… it was his birthday after all. When we arrived Ben ordered us each a beer and a shot… (note: goals of sobriety quickly being shot down) We had a few more beers while we were watching the local reggae band play, then decided to leave. Da Bod and Ben were out enjoying a cigarette prior to crawling into the car (and honestly waiting for the police cruiser that had parked in front of Ben’s car to move). I went inside escaping the cold, when I returned outside they had met some girl who was also celebrating her birthday.

Da Bod is the type of guy that will go anywhere and make friends, throw in some alcohol and he will quickly be making best friends. Ben and I wanted to leave, Da Bod wanted to stay with his new friend and so Ben and I left him. This is okay amongst our friends and I, no hard feelings ever if someone leaves or gets left by there choice.

On the way to the car I told Ben, “Last year when we hooked up, it was one of the hottest things ever.”

He laughed and said, “If you didn’t say something I was going to. I won’t lie, I have thought about that night many times… even when I have been with other girls… I have thought back to you.” Now with buzzed conversation like this, what do you think was going to happen when we got back to the house? Exactly. And let me tell you. Hot. Again.

Afterwards he proceeded to play the guitar for me singing me various Jack and Dave tunes, while I snapped a bazillion pictures of him… ahhhh yessss the drunk photographer, alive and well.

Da Bod returned to the house as wasted as always… I shit you not: When Da Bod gets wasted there is very little difference in between him and Homer Simpson. Ben and I actually joked about this. Voice and mannerisms are scarily similar. Ben hung out for a while longer, but had to head home to take care of his new poochie and Da Bod finally passed out.

Returning home last night in addition to the clutter of empty alcohol containers, my bed was a mess. Da Bod once again impressing upon me the fact that he has no brought-upsies. The last one out of the bed is supposed to make it. It just the rule. Right?

I didn’t care however and my head hit the pillow and I fell into my Sleeping Beauty mode, and was hardly able to even arise twelve hours later as I ran (yet again) late for work this morning.

But damn if it wasn’t worth it.

Pity Party

2006-02-22T15:12:00.000-08:00

Table for one, please...

headache headache go away

2006-02-22T10:01:00.000-08:00

Nothing like waking up five minutes after you were supposed to be to work, completely topless… freezing cold… realizing that you have no covers… looking over next to you and seeing Da Bod lying next to you… remembering his birthday celebrations of the previous evening… and knowing that it wasn’t Da Bod you hooked up with last night… but God how you wish you called in sick for work today… nothing like sitting at you desk with FF hair, as you were too hung to run a brush through it… smelling like yesterday's alcohol... mascara on your eyes everywhere, less the eyelashes (yes, HOT indeed)… the fact that you needed to call and tell him you did it… again… while rushing to work… and feeling like a piece of shit for not being everything that he needs… wants… desires… believes… hating a self-pity attitude… watching the minutes pass by… waiting to go home so you can crawl back in bed… but knowing last night was hot… anytime a guy will sit on the bed a serenade you for over an hour by guitar… awesome… none of this makes the pain in your head lessen… nor the minutes pass by quicken…

Sugar In My Bowl

2006-02-21T10:18:00.000-08:00

It is standard knowledge that when I return from Portland I spend the next couple of days looking for employment and housing in hopes of returning to the city that I have again fallen in love with. This trip is no different, with the exception that I already have the housing sitch figured out. M&M has an awesome flat with an extra bedroom. I haven’t lived with a gay man before… but I can only imagine that the “turnstile of men” (that he had joked about when we said we were going to move to NY together) might be accurate.

I am actually pretty much past the random hook up portion of my life (she wrote while doubting the words pouring forth from her fingers). I, of course, don’t mind having guys in my life… and in Portland I have them readily available to me.*

Mensa called me while I was drunk one night in Portland. After telling him where I was I changed my mind and decided that I actually did not want him to come and meet me there.** So I called him back as a cab was picking him up from his house and told him to just cancel the cab, that there was no reason for him to come down. I was proud of myself for not again falling into the cycle of my Portland boys.

I did let The Spanker know I was coming to town prior to my arrival. Spanker and I have an interesting situation. We have known one another for seven years and have flirted the entire time. For the last five of the seven years we have played around (don’t take that to mean more than I do). Spanker is an awesome friend and I really enjoy his company.

When I picked him up on Sunday… damn if he doesn’t look great… we went to lunch at my favorite Reuben shop and he talked to me about politics (I would say that it was a conversation, but he dominated it, which I like). We then went shopping. Walking through the Pearl District arm in arm… I liked being there, next to him… Flirting progressed and I decided at the end of the afternoon I would walk him back up to his apartment.

We entered into his apartment and as I set down my handbag he turned on Nina Simone and approached me. He pushed me and pinned my arms by my wrists against the wall. My heart raced… it was just where I wanted to be, his lips on me, his teeth [at times not so] gently biting at me… perfect. We moved into his bedroom and he peeled my winter layers from me… and I him… We later we laid there… my head nestled into that spot near his shoulder as his fingers glided up my side and back down and I doodled on his chest with my fingertip.

He and I are not like that. We have never been very intimate. For five years we did nothing much more than have high school making out sessions. We have never actually even slept together. When I would go and visit him when he lived in SoCal I chose to sleep on the couch every time I visited. Then there I was Sunday afternoon in his bed. Feeling so perfectly content… not wanting to leave… the desire to fall asleep in his arms so overwhelming I had to immediately get up, redress and leave.

I returned to work today, with thoughts of the Spanker and the dream I had about him last night lingering through the back of my mind.

We are not like that.

Anyone know of a good job in Portland?

* Why are guys in SoCal so fucking short? I know I have said this previously, but seriously. I am stoked to see a guy 5’ 10” here, while in Portland I can actually wear heels and have all of the guys I am with be taller than me. Whodathunk?

** I won’t lie, there was another guy at the bar that I had more interest in, so I didn’t want Mensa coming down and ruining my game… Yes, sure, I am a bitch to him… but I told you before that I would be the next time I saw him and he would take it. He did and he will again. I must fucking rock in bed.

Sweet Home Portland, Oregon...

2006-02-20T18:57:00.000-08:00

~Home Sweet Home~

Homeward Bound...

2006-02-16T08:46:00.000-08:00

I will be heading first thing tomorrow morning to Portland, where it is supposed to be uber cold all weekend and possibly snow. I am very excited... although going through my closet and pulling out my cold-weather clothes last night, I have realized I don’t have many anymore. Monday it was 85 degrees here… this morning when I checked Portland’s weather it was 22 degrees. A bit of a difference, to say the least. I hope to motivate at least one of my friends to go snowshoeing with me… I’ll see if I can get them off their arses. I haven’t seen snow in years, and am excited to frolic in it with my dog (that lives in Portland with my dad).

I have been contemplating moving back to Portland, I think a weekend there that is clear brisk and cool, sans rain will almost convince me that I should. Although, strangely, I had a dream last night that some girl (I can’t remember whom) was telling me that she was hardly able to live through the 50-straight days of rain they had the last few months… that may be enough to remind me why I don’t live there now.

I also had a dream last night that I was with this Italian guy, oddly I don’t know him out of my dream, however he wasn’t faceless, I still remember what he looked like. He had a small daughter and I was excited to have her as mine and I was looking forward to having out little tan babies (in my dream I was hoping they would get my blue eyes). This is very unlike me. I do not think (or dream) of such things. Is this what turning 30 does to you? Oh God, please… no.

Speaking of kids, I have a nephew, Jordan, who is three years old. He is the cutest thing ever, blond hair in a faux-hawk and big blue eyes. Yesterday I received an email from my mother:

A family 'funny' Jordan has decided he wants to change his name to something other than Jordan. He chose "Josh" first and was told that wouldn't work [Jordan’s older brother’s name is Josh]- his latest choice "Diego" - isn't that a hoot? He is SO funny! A blonde-hair, blue-eyed, "Diego"...

By tomorrow evening I will be home hanging out with my mama, my sister and of course, Diego… enjoying the brisk air, drinking great beer and hopefully wading though snow banks.

You know I can’t go anywhere without my computer so I believe I shall also do some posting while gone. I have to do something on the plane, and writing blog entries always occupies my time well.

You say it's your blirthday... well it's my blirthday too...

2006-02-16T00:00:00.000-08:00

It seems ironic that the gift for a first anniversary is a paper item, as this last year my blog and I have shared many things… but not one transcribed upon paper. One year ago today my blog and I began our relationship… and through that I began mine with you. February 16, 2005. I was finally encouraged by my friend Rusty to begin a blog… just about a week after finding out what one was.

Oh what a difference a year makes… my life has evolved so much in some ways, not where I had hoped in others, yet through it all, blog, you have been by my side, at my fingertips. You have been with me through bad days, bad nights, bad dates and a bad job. Blog you have been with me through fun weekends, falling in love and heartbreak.

You, my sweet sweet blog, have allowed me to “meet” so many amazing people that I never would have known. Some whom I have actually met in real life… some whom I know shall be around for years to come… and perhaps some who are sure we are destined to be together… but we’ll discuss that further next year.

Through you blog I have solace, a sounding board and a committee to turn to when I may be unsure about things in my life. So thank you for this fabulous first year. Here's to another...

As Promised

2006-02-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

I am going to show you some of the quality responses I have received from gentlemen (note: term used looooosely). I have about 70 in my mailbox, but I have a couple here that really stood out from the others. See for yourself (although edited for length, spelling and such have been left as they were):

Hello beautiful, Here is my pic. I hope you like tall dark handsome men. I am slightly better looking than my pic :) I have gone to MIT and Harvard so I can hold a stimulating conversation. :) I meditate daily. I prefer to talk first and then meet for coffee or a walk on the beach to make sure the chemistry is right.
Cheers, 45-year-old Bachelor #1
976-555-1234

Please note. If this guy is slightly better looking than his pic, he still wouldn’t be tall, dark nor handsome. The age doesn’t really bother me… The Man was 47 (yes, someone three years younger than my mother)… but I still said that I was seeking a man 27- 40.

From a 22-year-old Bachelor #2:
I'm a former college football player and now a high school football and basketball coach, while I finish school. I'm a real fun guy, goofy and have been told hilarious. I love sports, gambling, movies, t.v. and the theater- it's my guilty pleasure. I'm very sweet, caring and considerate and believe in treating a women like a lady. In a women I'm just looking for someone cute, intellignet, funny, caring, considerate and who will love me for me. I'm different, I come from a small town, I like country music and I don't surf of skateboard. I'm not like a lot of guys in the city, I'm goofy, but a blast, and I just want someone to love me for me and Who can enjoy my life as much as I'll enjoy theres. And pay no attention to income I always have money and make things happen. If this is you I would love to talk to you. Hit me up with a message or e-mail me.

A gambler and someone who misspells “intelligent” and believes in treating “a women” like a lady, as well as enjoying “there” life… must be brilliant. Although this boy is as cute as a button… and a little fun in the sand never hurt anyone… right? My question is this, if I am suppose to “pay no attention” to the fact that he has no income, how does he manage to “always have money”? Will the police be joining us on one of our dates?

Hey OCEG,
I saw you profile on here and I thought you were a hottie, and you still think you are. ha ha. I really like your pic's and your smile. My profile is on here, feel free to check it out. Write me back or look for me on IM under "xxxx" my e-mail is xxxx@xxx.com
Talk to you soon, Bachelor #3

Please if you are attempting to impress me in your first attempt at “conversing” with me, please make sure you spell my name correctly.

Hello, What an incredible smile, such bright and bold eyes, what lovely lips. Had to stop, look, read, enjoy and say hello. Would love to chat if you will.
Cheers, Bachelor #4
xxxcute@xxx.com

Aofall, I love that he stopped to have “a look” and “enjoy”. Bleck. And if you have “cute” in your email address… really?

Hi :) How are you? I am not a very good writer, especially here over the net. I read your profile and of course I looked carefully to your picture :) And here I am, trying to be a pen friend of yours for now. How about you beautiful lady? Would you like to chat with me and get to know me better ??? :)) Bachelor #5

Again… thank you for taking a “careful look” at my picture. Who are these people? No wonder they have to resort to online dating. (Said the girl, who is herself, online dating.)

So I am unsure as to what I should do. They aren’t all this bad. Perhaps I could have some fun going out with random people, but I don’t think I am a very good serial dater. I have started receiving double messages from people commenting on how I haven’t returned anything regarding their initial message to me (hello, can you say “take a hint”) yet I am still bummed that Buddy Holly Glasses isn’t one of them. Isn’t it nice, this double standard that I have easily slid myself into?

Lookin' for love?

2006-02-13T23:25:00.000-08:00

Sitting at home, alone, on Friday night fully planning to get through the remainder of Descartes’ Meditations I found myself browsing through the internet… and suddenly got a wild hair to try an online dating service…

Now I realize that I have previously mentioned this before and promptly shot the idea down. However, having the opportunity to yet again procrastinate this almost insta-slumber reading I decided to go for it.

I went to a site, filled out the requested information and then was shocked that you had to pay. I guess now thinking about it, that’s how revenue would be generated… but it never occurred to me that it cost anything, so after finishing my profile, I never paid. I am not going to pay for this thing that I am not that sure about in the first place.

The site that I am on still allows me to receive messages from prospective beaus and in addition you can send one line “ice breakers”, consisting of a limited predetermined selection to choose from. I was going to completely lie and tell you that I sent none, but I shall not do that. I did send a couple “ice breakers” prior to the realization that it was a Friday night and nothing would be more pathetic than some lonely girl sending out messages while sitting at home, alone on her computer on a Friday night.

I immediately quit then proceeded to go to the girls section to see who my competition might be. Everything’s gotta be a competition for me…

This last week I have received about 50 responses from interested guys. Please note: I did not say “interesting” guys. I almost started responding because I thought if nothing else, this would be great blog fodder. But I then realized how ~~pathetic that would be of me~~ busy I am for such frivolity.

One guy did stand out. In Buddy Holly glasses and a witty self description, I was intrigued, that and the fact that he didn’t mention my pictures once. Seriously I have had many guys refer to me as a hottie or say, “I checked out your profile and really checked out your pictures”… urg, no thanks. [Please note, I obviously didn’t post anything similar to the pictures that you have seen here… quite the opposite, in fact.] I sent him a reply message from the pre-selected one liners that I had an option of saying, “Looking forward to hearing from you again soon...” I assumed that he would respond adding his personal email or phone number in the text body, as many guys had done in their initial messages to me. (Thus not making me obligated to officially sign up.) His response? “A woman of few words I see.”

I am now even more intrigued. He isn’t playing my game, he seems intelligent and witty and he has created a bit of a chase for me. I love the chase. But I am unsure what I should do. It has been since the end of last week since his response, and perhaps he thinks I am not interested… and on some made-up principle I have decided that I will not pay to join…. But perhaps that’s a stupid principle. After all I was the one on a Friday night filling out this stupid thing anyway.

** There is more to come. I will be posting some of the messages that I have received from guys. Basic intelligence… or at least spelling and grammar check… have not been high on some of their lists… although there is a good chance that they were when they wrote it. **

I'm the weiner!*

2006-02-13T16:24:00.000-08:00

* The punch line to my all time favorite laffy-taffy joke:
"What did the hotdog say that came in first place?"

I would like to thank the Best Blogs of the Web for my blog being named among them. ** (I would also like to thank whomever nominated my blog.)

** I am in the “couples” category. If you don’t tell them, I won’t.

Extreme Makeover – Blog Edition

2006-02-13T07:33:00.000-08:00

Hopefully this shall bring you fewer tears than the Home Addition…

As some of you know, I always felt as though my blog had this “Strawberry Shortcake threw up all over me” quality. So, yesterday (in a further attempt to procrastinate everything homework) I played around a bit and redesigned my blog. I decided in lieu of Strawberry Shortcake, I would try and go for a little more “Red Light District”. If you hate it let me know. Not promising that I’ll change anything, but I would like to know none-the-less.

“… all war is a symptom of man’s failure as a thinking animal…”

2006-02-10T22:03:00.000-08:00

“There were no cowards in the American Army, and of all the brave men the private in the infantry was the bravest and noblest. The reason for this in terms of the War Effort is obvious. The infantry private has the dirtiest, weariest, least rewarding job in the whole war. In addition to being dangerous and dirty, a great many of the things he had to do were stupid. He must therefore be reassured that these things he knew to be stupid were actually necessary and wise, and that he was a hero for doing them. Of course no one even casually inspected the fact that the infantry private had no choice. If he exercised choice, he was either executed immediately or sent to prison for life.

“A second convention was that we had no cruel or ambitious or ignorant commanders. If the disorganized insanity we were a part of came a cropper, it was not only foreseen but a part of a grander strategy out of which victory would emerge.

“A third sternly held rule was that five million perfectly normal, young, energetic, and concupiscent men and boys had for the period of the War Effort put aside their habitual preoccupied with girls. The fact that they carried pictures of nude girls, called pin-ups, did not occur to anyone as a paradox. The convention was the law. When Army Supply ordered X millions of rubber contraceptive and disease-preventing items, it had to be explained that they were used to keep moisture out of machine-gun barrel – and perhaps they did.”

- John Steinbeck
Once There Was a War
1958

Bisous!

2006-02-10T09:10:00.000-08:00

It's Friday... and if I don’t post now, no one will see it and then it shall just be a waste… as everyone goes forth into their weekend to celebrate their Valentine’s Day with a partner… celebrate their birthday… and to enjoy yet another fleeting weekend passing us by.

So I shall wish you a happy, safe and ~~sex~~ love filled weekend.

YOU look mahvahlous dahlink...

2006-02-09T14:50:00.000-08:00

We have a new guy in our office that started this week. I have yet to come up with a fruit bowl name for him, but shall shortly. Anyway, as I was leaving for lunch this afternoon I passed his desk and the thought passed through my mind as to why he never seemed to have combed hair. I mean really, is it that difficult to put yourself minimally together in the morning?

I exited through the door and started down the stairs to my car. Walking into the bright sunlight (eighty degrees today) I realized that after I had slept horribly over this morning (I awoke after my alarm had been sounding for nearly fifty minutes) I was walking out wearing no make-up and my unruly mane in a pony tail as I didn’t have time to do either today after rushing out of the shower.

Thank God I don’t have to look at myself all day (unlike my co-workers), thus the ability to pass judgment on others is so much easier. Whew.

I went out on a date last night...

2006-02-08T14:03:00.000-08:00

(I can hear you gasping out of disbelief now... stop it).

Although when I agreed to go out, I didn't fully realize it was a date. This guy now is super stoked on me and can't wait to go out again (he has asked me out for Friday and Monday, whichever works out for me...). In addition is very good friends with Beach Chic, so while telling him I am not "into him that way", I have to tread lightly because if I hurt his feelings she will be beyond pissed (and rightly so). I am thinking about just telling him I can't go out on Friday night because I have a date, but maybe he and I can hang out some other time soon (please note casual tone of "hanging out" with him).

What do you think?

How do I tell a guy that I am honestly interested in as far as a friendship goes (he is very cool) that all I want is a friendship NO more.

Advice?

The Photoman

2006-02-08T07:59:00.000-08:00

The Photoman has a great blog, brief post with fabulous photos and funny little quips… why don’t you check it out now?

Be Cool

2006-02-07T11:39:00.000-08:00

I am constantly surprised at the stress level people chose to have when dealing with the smallest things in life. The threat level that is often kept at guarded (blue) for many people might suddenly spike to severe (red) for the most mundane of things. I will generally stay at a low (green) level of stress.

It is just not that big of a deal to me. *

I have stood witness to one particular friend of mine lose it over where a valet returned her car to her, if she was going to be able to order a grilled cheese sandwich at a restaurant and she has proudly discussed making a teenage shop-girl shake in her shoes after it was thought that that shop-girl was looking at said friend in a manner that made her believe that shop-girl was making fun of her attire.

I could give a fuck about that meaningless shit. *

In fact I have on many occasions stood up for the person behind the counter that couldn’t defend themselves as they normally might, due to the fact that they are “on the clock”. At the dealership in which I take my car, I told a woman it was not the man at the rental counter’s fault that her car was having extensive issues and their was no reason to treat him the way she was. The employee was thankful I stood up for him and now I get free cars and upgrades whenever I take my car in for service…

This goes beyond just the treatment of people. *

My boss will frantically run through the office in high-stress mode because he can’t figure out how to print something, or why the world can not read his mind. Today the emergency was that he couldn’t reach one of our overseas clients by phone. I had specifically written out the number to dial, including the “0” before the telephone number and the country code. Walking to my desk and throwing back the paper I had given him, he told me that no phone lines in our office worked to call the number. One question later and I found out that he wasn’t dialing the same number I had written out clearly, on the paper sitting in front of him.

These things just don’t stress me out. *

My roommate lost it one time because one of my friends from out of town had used one of her towels while I was at work. That same weekend I used her toothpaste twice as I had left mine in an overnight bag at a friend’s house. LJ, my roommate, lost it… After taking a verbal beating while standing there in disbelief, I looked at her, shocked, and said, “If these are the things that you are afforded in your life to get this upset about, you are a very lucky person.” I then walked off. (Suspicion is that my 15-year-senior roommate is going through “the change” so perhaps this explains her craziness… but still).

I don’t understand why people can’t be chill. *

This includes my blovers and wanna-be-blovers. Although, Brack did point out that I was bitching about not having dates (thanks for that, btw)… I am not that hard up. I had another wanna-be-blover push me to give him my name and a bunch of information about me, not too long ago. I do not do this. After threats of ice-picks I am much more cautious as to what I share, when I share it and with whom I share it. I am not adverse to meeting people through this blog. I have met people in the flesh before and it has turned out quite wonderfully. However, just because I reply to your email or IM with you one time, when you ask me, “So where do we go from here?” in your seemingly race against time to learn as much about this OCG as possible… you can wait that much longer. I am in no rush.

Take a deep breath and everything will be fine… *

* Disclaimer: All chillness and calm will be out of the window while driving late to work or desiring to get home quickly. At that point it’s no-holds-barred and I will honk at your slow ass if you don’t get out of my way…

just sayin’ ;-)

Ask and ye shall receive...

2006-02-06T11:34:00.000-08:00

Again I am not sure how long I shall leave this nurse picture up…

but enjoy…

let me know if you like the French Maid better, I can always change it back…

GO SEAHAWKS!!!

2006-02-03T15:12:00.000-08:00

Elle est arrivée!!!!

2006-02-02T08:19:00.000-08:00

I was driving home talking to Beach Chic yesterday, planning our Saturday night. I am going over to her house on Saturday night, watching the UFC* fight and making a big dinner with her, blah blah blah… I arrived to the terrace and there it was! I immediately got off the phone ran into my room, opened the box and tore off my clothes.

Donning my little new dirty doctor outfit, Hot Momma called me and I went on and on about how I was so hot in my new ensemble I would be having sex with myself once I got off the phone.**

I went to my weekly Wednesday night dinner with Lalo and mom and shared with everyone the picture of my new present… so very excited. Upon finishing dinner I told Lalo that she had to take pictures of me in it… so we headed home and I got into my little white “lab coat” and handed Lalo the camera.

Taking pictures out on the terrace we moved down to her living room where I was straddling the couch when LH (her neighbor, and he who lives below me) saw her door cracked and asked if he could come in… we laughed and I said sure. When he saw what we were doing he asked if he could get his camera… I said of course.

LH came back and took dozens and dozens of pictures of this ~~OCG~~ Dr. Anita Lay… that were later emailed out. So, again, hopefully you shant see this OCG all over the www (yet another reason to do my daily google check)… unless I show them to you… so if any of you might have happened to receive a few… kindly keep them to yourselves… *wink*wink*

Gentlemen, don’t you worry your ~~pretty~~ hard little heads if you don’t have a Dr. Anita Lay waiting in bed for you at home… these girls will be there for you every night…***

*I honestly had no idea that UFC = Ultimate Fighting Championship when I agreed to come over… but know I am intrigued and have decided I am going to have the most guy-esque weekend with the fight on Saturday night and Super Bowl on Sunday.

**That actually didn’t happen until much later, when the bearer of the gift and I had ‘phone’…

*** Asterisks idea stolen from Lizzie… but it just seems to make it all that much easier…

Christmas Early?

2006-02-01T10:51:00.000-08:00

This week I have been eagerly heading home. Okay, well I always head out of work excited, but I have been more so than usual… I get home anticipating that perhaps… just maybe… it may have arrived.

Arriving home, I bound up my steps and approach my front doors hoping that my blue box might be resting against one of them… I have been nothing but disappointed thus far this week… but I still have three more afternoons to arrive home and hopefully be delighted.

You see a couple of weeks ago, while performing a google search for my outfits shown in my Say-Cheese post, I happened upon a glorious web site. Three Wishes Lingerie. This site has it all and for a reasonable price. And you all know how I love my dress up… wait, that’s not right… I mean, love me some dress-up.

I decided there were several things that I should have. Starting off with Dr. Anita Lay (seriously… it comes complete with name tag)… so it has been ordered to be delivered to my house with in 3-5 business days from Friday. I can hardly contain myself…

Perhaps in a few weeks time, my French Maid profile picture shall be replaced with this…

Yay Me!

Now if I could just get someone to spent Valentines Day with, it might actually be put to some good use…

You want heartwarming?

2006-02-01T08:41:00.000-08:00

I got heartwarming.

Maybe a little love never hurt anyone...

Games of Love

2006-01-31T09:13:00.000-08:00

Love should be laughed at... they agree...

Cogito, ergo sum…

2006-01-30T23:32:00.000-08:00

… certain I shouldn’t have taken the History of Philosophy…

Keeping my eyes open this evenings class was a feat in and of itself… however as our first midterm paper is due in a mere two weeks time, I better learn to appreciate and expand my modes of comprehension on the teaching of Descartes meditations, lest I humiliate myself in written form (she typed on a blog disclosing many of her most personal of personals… so I suppose it wouldn’t be my first time).

I am beginning to realize why I was so happy to finally be out of school… yet here I am again. I am trying to be a good little school *wink*wink*, yet I am having difficulty staying (or even being) focused on my courses… and we are only beginning week four.

Saturday and Sunday this last weekend were to be fully dedicated to homework. I meant it this weekend. No football on television and roomie out of town (yesssssss) I had the place to myself, to really focus my attention to my studies.

[pause for laughter]

Guests over, wine and seasons one and two of Chappelle’s Show on DVD (seriously Charlie Murphy is so effing funny) Friday night allowed me to put everything off until Saturday and Sunday.

I (amazingly) was busy almost all day Saturday and Sunday. Please don’t ask me “With what?” because I have no good answer. I dusted the house, rearranged shoes… I really did a whole lot of nothing.

Lalo came over Saturday night… we were going to read and watch movies… (single and living it up in Laguna… I know). When she came up to my place Saturday evening I was all dressed up and dancing around my living room to random hip-hop songs. She asked me where I was planning on going out. Going out? Oh no, my friend, I was merely thinking of things besides homework to do… I explained to her that she was fifteen minutes late from catching me in my little black cocktail dress and heels dancing in front of the mirrors. I really am that easily entertained.

I finally, last night, completed the three Descartes meditations I was supposed to have finished for this evening (thank God), of course taking breaks throughout for yet more pictures of the sunset.

Now this week I only have a fiction story and several chapters of my social psych to read… urg…

I should just screw it all… after all Coito ergo sum.