My favorite magazine articles are when they let you in on the favorites of a certain celeb. I especially enjoy the back of InStyle, where they let you in on a celeb's guilty pleasures. So, hey, why not for the blog.
Midnight snack? Well, I don't snack, but if I did, it would be grapes. I love me some ice cold grapes.
Shopping spree? The new Barney's here in Dallas. Tonight I ate dinner with a girl who works there and everything on her, I coveted. Realistically: Forever 21. I can go to town and back in that store.
Late-night TV? Reruns of Will & Grace. That cast cracks me up.
Cocktail? A mojito
Fashion addiction? White tee shirts. Long sleeve, short sleeve; I can incorporate a white tee into any outfit, night or day.
Rainy-day movie? Where people may expect me to say 'Breakfast at Tiffanys', I'm going with a tie: "There's a Girl in My Soup" and "For Pete's Sake". Girl in My Soup is a Peter Sellers & Goldie Hawn movie, I think its the first movie Goldie was in, I may be wrong. It's the first movie my mom has ever seen and she saw it on flight to the USA when she immigrated here back in 1975. Its about Sellers, a player who gets 'played' by the female version of himself, Goldie. It is so old school funny. "For Pete's Sake" is an unknown comedy with Barbra Streisand. It is HILARIOUS. Babs plays a woman who somehow needs to get money and tries every oddball occupation to get the money, each 'job' is a riot and adventure that leads her deeper into debt and chaos.
Beauty Binge: Sephora Shower gels, they make the best scents that linger in the bathroom for hours. They cost $8. It's a binge for me.
Fast food? McDonald's.
Tuesday, October 31
No Diggity, No Doubt
Thank goodness for College Roomie. My memory sometimes has an absentee problem.
As I was explaining my (project) and want v. need to her, she said very plainly:
"You haven't met the Gypsy Woman's man, yet. Duh."
Ohhh.
A year after I left College Roomie, I went back to Austin, for one thing. And only one thing. To visit the Gypsy Woman.
When College Roomie and I lived together we'd always plan to go see this Gypsy each weekend. And each weekend hangovers, boys, Real World marathons, and huge appetites would win over. (yeah, we never studied on the weekend)
Supposedly, the Gypsy was the super woman of all that could see into the future.
One weekend I drove back to get in line for my future. (Thank the Lord, there was a Sonic in front of her house, because the line? Loooooooooong. And Golightly? Hungry)
As soon as we entered, she said to me: "You drive a red 2 door car". I did. And we took College Roomie's car to get over there. "You are not full, you want to eat some more", she said. And I did. That was probably a given, me and food, it never ends.
Anyways. She looked into her crystal ball and this is what she saw, for me:
-my dad would disappear. (GONE) But, yes it did freak me out to first hear this because I automatically thought, death.
-I will live 1000's miles away from my family. True that. Of course, I took it to mean I was so fulfilling my dream of moving to New York. Heh.
-I will always be comfortable with money. I won't be rich, and I will never be hurting for cash. Me and my family would live comfortably.
-She warned me of a car salesman. That is another story for another post. And believe me, the warning did not take, I still went ahead with it.
-And I would fall in love and marry a guy from a coastal region. She had a strong inkling towards the East Coast. (And I still kept thinking I was moving to New York, baby). This guy would make me happy. Deliriously giddy happy. Her words, not mine.
And as College Roomie reminded me, I have yet to meet anyone from a coastal region.
I don't if Chicago counts. Technically it is on a coast, right? So we could, technically blame Cupcake for thwarting my future with someone I could have met there. I'm just saying because the bitterness creeps back up every now and then.
Adonde, Mr. Coastal or shall I say East Coast Babe. Where are you?
When I sit and think about it, it kinda freaks me out: my future husband is just out there, minding his own business and has no idea what's to happen.
Think about it. Weird, huh?
It reminds me of a quote I read from Drew Barrymore: "The best part about being single, is that at any given moment, love could be just around the corner. And that feeling of anxious excitement is awesome"
I totally agree.
As I was explaining my (project) and want v. need to her, she said very plainly:
"You haven't met the Gypsy Woman's man, yet. Duh."
Ohhh.
A year after I left College Roomie, I went back to Austin, for one thing. And only one thing. To visit the Gypsy Woman.
When College Roomie and I lived together we'd always plan to go see this Gypsy each weekend. And each weekend hangovers, boys, Real World marathons, and huge appetites would win over. (yeah, we never studied on the weekend)
Supposedly, the Gypsy was the super woman of all that could see into the future.
One weekend I drove back to get in line for my future. (Thank the Lord, there was a Sonic in front of her house, because the line? Loooooooooong. And Golightly? Hungry)
As soon as we entered, she said to me: "You drive a red 2 door car". I did. And we took College Roomie's car to get over there. "You are not full, you want to eat some more", she said. And I did. That was probably a given, me and food, it never ends.
Anyways. She looked into her crystal ball and this is what she saw, for me:
-my dad would disappear. (GONE) But, yes it did freak me out to first hear this because I automatically thought, death.
-I will live 1000's miles away from my family. True that. Of course, I took it to mean I was so fulfilling my dream of moving to New York. Heh.
-I will always be comfortable with money. I won't be rich, and I will never be hurting for cash. Me and my family would live comfortably.
-She warned me of a car salesman. That is another story for another post. And believe me, the warning did not take, I still went ahead with it.
-And I would fall in love and marry a guy from a coastal region. She had a strong inkling towards the East Coast. (And I still kept thinking I was moving to New York, baby). This guy would make me happy. Deliriously giddy happy. Her words, not mine.
And as College Roomie reminded me, I have yet to meet anyone from a coastal region.
I don't if Chicago counts. Technically it is on a coast, right? So we could, technically blame Cupcake for thwarting my future with someone I could have met there. I'm just saying because the bitterness creeps back up every now and then.
Adonde, Mr. Coastal or shall I say East Coast Babe. Where are you?
When I sit and think about it, it kinda freaks me out: my future husband is just out there, minding his own business and has no idea what's to happen.
Think about it. Weird, huh?
It reminds me of a quote I read from Drew Barrymore: "The best part about being single, is that at any given moment, love could be just around the corner. And that feeling of anxious excitement is awesome"
I totally agree.
Monday, October 30
Want v. Need
I don't need a man. But, do I want one?
More and more each day, Hotlanta gets to my heart just as much as he gets on my nerves. If he could back down on the constant 'in my business' inquiries, he'd be all good. Then he does or says something that gets to my heart and his crazy needs to know what I'm doing and who I am with, go away.
But let me tell you: HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND.
He lives in Atlanta. Boo. But he makes me want to find someone just like him, in Dallas (proper). Is that odd?
People move. Yeah, I know. I cannot justify this long distance relationship to last long ,to know that one of us needs to move. And I am so against moving state to state or city to city when you only know one person and that person is your significant other. I just see problems with that. Unless there is a ring on your finger.
Back to the situation: Want versus Need.
I honestly believe that God did not create everyone to be married. Some people are destined to be married. Some, aren't. I don't think its everyone's purpose and some people should stop acting like its their life to find a permanent mate. (you know the type) Maybe that's not your or my purpose on Earth.
It's just the way it is and makes sense to me.
I don't need a man. I can have a child minus the man. I can be successful minus the man. I can own a house, a car, pay the bills, live life without one. So far, I have and I'm good. What do you need a man for, really?
And I understand that someone will answer: Sex, duh. I'm not talking physical stuff here because if I just wanted that, I could go out and get that, easy, minus the relationship or drama.
Do I want one?
Maybe. I go back and forth on it all the time.
It'd be nice for the validation. Oh holey that validation. Validation will be the end of me. Can't you tell?
It'd be nice for the kissing.
It'd be nice for the date-paying and companionship (to the movies, the bookstore, restaurants, etc).
Oh and it'd be extra nice to cook for someone besides myself (but I can cook for friends--they might not show or answer the text, but hey, we're talking technicalities)
It'd be especially nice to share this football obsession with one. Partner went so far. And I doubt he'd be up for the kissing--eh, I wouldn't be up for that with him. Gross. (I am not one of those straight girls that kisses her gay male friends. Unh unh)
I'd really want one to be lazy and tangled up on the couch with, watching mindless Sunday television (while not in football season).
Do I want one, do I need one? Crap. Crap.
Want may win out. Especially since I just created my (project) and really, isn't the end result of that, a man?
I don't want to sound hypocritical.
But I sure as hope that I'm the type that doesn't need one.
Wanting is nice but shouldn't be confused with the need.
More and more each day, Hotlanta gets to my heart just as much as he gets on my nerves. If he could back down on the constant 'in my business' inquiries, he'd be all good. Then he does or says something that gets to my heart and his crazy needs to know what I'm doing and who I am with, go away.
But let me tell you: HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND.
He lives in Atlanta. Boo. But he makes me want to find someone just like him, in Dallas (proper). Is that odd?
People move. Yeah, I know. I cannot justify this long distance relationship to last long ,to know that one of us needs to move. And I am so against moving state to state or city to city when you only know one person and that person is your significant other. I just see problems with that. Unless there is a ring on your finger.
Back to the situation: Want versus Need.
I honestly believe that God did not create everyone to be married. Some people are destined to be married. Some, aren't. I don't think its everyone's purpose and some people should stop acting like its their life to find a permanent mate. (you know the type) Maybe that's not your or my purpose on Earth.
It's just the way it is and makes sense to me.
I don't need a man. I can have a child minus the man. I can be successful minus the man. I can own a house, a car, pay the bills, live life without one. So far, I have and I'm good. What do you need a man for, really?
And I understand that someone will answer: Sex, duh. I'm not talking physical stuff here because if I just wanted that, I could go out and get that, easy, minus the relationship or drama.
Do I want one?
Maybe. I go back and forth on it all the time.
It'd be nice for the validation. Oh holey that validation. Validation will be the end of me. Can't you tell?
It'd be nice for the kissing.
It'd be nice for the date-paying and companionship (to the movies, the bookstore, restaurants, etc).
Oh and it'd be extra nice to cook for someone besides myself (but I can cook for friends--they might not show or answer the text, but hey, we're talking technicalities)
It'd be especially nice to share this football obsession with one. Partner went so far. And I doubt he'd be up for the kissing--eh, I wouldn't be up for that with him. Gross. (I am not one of those straight girls that kisses her gay male friends. Unh unh)
I'd really want one to be lazy and tangled up on the couch with, watching mindless Sunday television (while not in football season).
Do I want one, do I need one? Crap. Crap.
Want may win out. Especially since I just created my (project) and really, isn't the end result of that, a man?
I don't want to sound hypocritical.
But I sure as hope that I'm the type that doesn't need one.
Wanting is nice but shouldn't be confused with the need.
(project)
I come up with my best plans before lunch. While chatting with Pecos Girl, I came up with a plan. A plan to test a theory that I've heard over and over again, but never experienced myself.
The theory: men are more likely to approach a woman that is alone than one that istravelingg with her coven. I used to think this was bunk. Then I thought some more, everywhere I go, I see men alone: the bar watching a sporting event (when they can watch it in the comfort of their home); at the bookstore; at the coffeehouse; at the restaurant eating, alone.
These men don't look lonely. They don't look like losers. They are not ugly. Just alone in public places---places where the majority of women do not dare be seen alone. I'll give us the coffeehouse, because seriously, I think that's a safe zone for anyone wanting to be alone.
The hypothesis is: Will I find a date while intaking life and attending the mentioned venues, solo? Each week, I'll go to one of the places alone on one day, and on a different day attempt the same place with a friend, the variable(if available).
I'IÂ’ll record my findings and share. Why? I'm bored and need something to do with my time. My goal is really to find a foreigner or someone with an accent, so if you know where they are, let me know.
Otherwise, it's just a new way for me to find a date and have something interesting to write about, besides my weekly dreams or what happened on Oprah.
The theory: men are more likely to approach a woman that is alone than one that istravelingg with her coven. I used to think this was bunk. Then I thought some more, everywhere I go, I see men alone: the bar watching a sporting event (when they can watch it in the comfort of their home); at the bookstore; at the coffeehouse; at the restaurant eating, alone.
These men don't look lonely. They don't look like losers. They are not ugly. Just alone in public places---places where the majority of women do not dare be seen alone. I'll give us the coffeehouse, because seriously, I think that's a safe zone for anyone wanting to be alone.
The hypothesis is: Will I find a date while intaking life and attending the mentioned venues, solo? Each week, I'll go to one of the places alone on one day, and on a different day attempt the same place with a friend, the variable(if available).
I'IÂ’ll record my findings and share. Why? I'm bored and need something to do with my time. My goal is really to find a foreigner or someone with an accent, so if you know where they are, let me know.
Otherwise, it's just a new way for me to find a date and have something interesting to write about, besides my weekly dreams or what happened on Oprah.
Sunday, October 29
My Dreams are a Cruel Joke
Not one week goes by that I don’t dream of the same person, three to four times in the week. Sometimes twice a night.
I used to know this person a long time ago and of course, this person is a man. A man that got away? No, that’d be too easy. A man that I let go because of lack of communications. Plain but not simple.
The dreams usually are great, we’re together and its present day. Past events aren’t affecting what is happening in the said dreams. I doubt they even exist because we are together as a couple in the dreams. Something we never were in reality.
Last night’s dream was different, we were not together.
The present situation we are both in was the reality of the dream. I kept my distance, but the chemistry was still there. Then, like when a hypothesis comes into theory he said:
“You know it’s too late. I can no longer promise you all the things that you want and need.”
I replied with, “I owe it to my 24 year old self to take the chance.”
He scoffs, blows it off, and we continue.
This joke of a dream is on me.
When he asked me years ago if I had to go, what would happen if I said ‘no’ and stayed (?) Skipped out on being cool. Skipped on acting like I didn’t care. Because holey moley, I did care. I didn’t want him to know that, because in the age of “The Rules” it was taboo to let a guy in on that, to let him have the upper hand. I was a modern woman and I wouldn’t dare break. For him.
When I found out that he was bemused by my actions because I never said what I wanted and my actions and non-communication juxtaposed each other. My response should have been to show him or tell him that I did care; and not discuss it with the people who were not him and probably would not tell him.
When a second chance came up, years later, I knew I had to do what I never did, years ago. Did I? (maybe I don't answer when opportunity knocks as much as I think I do)
He sat across from me recanting good times and telling me his deepest thoughts on issues: school, possible careers, relationships, family, politics, entertainment: everything. His wit, his jokes, his smile--were all perfect. I remember it so clearly, I sat across from him wondering who I was going to tell about our chance reunion. Nobody would believe the stuff coming from his mouth and why on Earth was he telling me?
Even kissing him hours later, when he told me how he always felt about me, I bit my tongue, rolled my eyes because I knew the next day, he was leaving. What good was it now? What good had it ever been?
Even then, again, I acted aloof, too cool to care about him. And the joke was still on me. The moment I knew he was gone, the next day, I wanted the previous night back, badly. I wanted to share with him, too. I wanted to tell him what it would take years for me to figure out.
Figure out---only in dreams. And now I know he has moved on and he and I will never be. But in my dreams he is fantastic, I’m fantastic, and we’re great together. We’re like the couple, I aim to be when I'm with anyone.
Would I be that great of a companion, to him, realistically--because, let’s face it, I think I suck as one in reality. In my dreams, I’m the best girlfriend, ever. I wish I could be her. But then the thought comes up: can I only be ‘her’ if I am with him?
When awake, the dreams stir up my thoughts and memories for the better half of mornings. I contemplate is that what it would be like if I didn’t act so aloof? Would we be together if I didn’t have my ‘game’ face on when we knew each other?
All thoughts are shaken off when logic comes into play: Of course not. I will never be with him. Again. Period. Case closed. Dunzo.
I used to know this person a long time ago and of course, this person is a man. A man that got away? No, that’d be too easy. A man that I let go because of lack of communications. Plain but not simple.
The dreams usually are great, we’re together and its present day. Past events aren’t affecting what is happening in the said dreams. I doubt they even exist because we are together as a couple in the dreams. Something we never were in reality.
Last night’s dream was different, we were not together.
The present situation we are both in was the reality of the dream. I kept my distance, but the chemistry was still there. Then, like when a hypothesis comes into theory he said:
“You know it’s too late. I can no longer promise you all the things that you want and need.”
I replied with, “I owe it to my 24 year old self to take the chance.”
He scoffs, blows it off, and we continue.
This joke of a dream is on me.
When he asked me years ago if I had to go, what would happen if I said ‘no’ and stayed (?) Skipped out on being cool. Skipped on acting like I didn’t care. Because holey moley, I did care. I didn’t want him to know that, because in the age of “The Rules” it was taboo to let a guy in on that, to let him have the upper hand. I was a modern woman and I wouldn’t dare break. For him.
When I found out that he was bemused by my actions because I never said what I wanted and my actions and non-communication juxtaposed each other. My response should have been to show him or tell him that I did care; and not discuss it with the people who were not him and probably would not tell him.
When a second chance came up, years later, I knew I had to do what I never did, years ago. Did I? (maybe I don't answer when opportunity knocks as much as I think I do)
He sat across from me recanting good times and telling me his deepest thoughts on issues: school, possible careers, relationships, family, politics, entertainment: everything. His wit, his jokes, his smile--were all perfect. I remember it so clearly, I sat across from him wondering who I was going to tell about our chance reunion. Nobody would believe the stuff coming from his mouth and why on Earth was he telling me?
Even kissing him hours later, when he told me how he always felt about me, I bit my tongue, rolled my eyes because I knew the next day, he was leaving. What good was it now? What good had it ever been?
Even then, again, I acted aloof, too cool to care about him. And the joke was still on me. The moment I knew he was gone, the next day, I wanted the previous night back, badly. I wanted to share with him, too. I wanted to tell him what it would take years for me to figure out.
Figure out---only in dreams. And now I know he has moved on and he and I will never be. But in my dreams he is fantastic, I’m fantastic, and we’re great together. We’re like the couple, I aim to be when I'm with anyone.
Would I be that great of a companion, to him, realistically--because, let’s face it, I think I suck as one in reality. In my dreams, I’m the best girlfriend, ever. I wish I could be her. But then the thought comes up: can I only be ‘her’ if I am with him?
When awake, the dreams stir up my thoughts and memories for the better half of mornings. I contemplate is that what it would be like if I didn’t act so aloof? Would we be together if I didn’t have my ‘game’ face on when we knew each other?
All thoughts are shaken off when logic comes into play: Of course not. I will never be with him. Again. Period. Case closed. Dunzo.
Wednesday, October 25
Tagged
Swishy tagged me, so now you get to read 5 Things you didn't know about me.
I apologize if some you did know. Oh, well.
1. Every time it rains in the Fall or Winter, I stop at the grocery store and buy: Texas Toast, American Cheese, and smoked ham. Tomato soup is always a staple in my pantry.
Rainy cold day dinners are always grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It's become my own little tradition. So if its cold and rainy in Texas, you know what I'm having.
2. I am addicted to home scent products. AirWick, Glade, Febreeze, Pier 1 Imports, Bath and Body Works. Candles, room sprays, plug-ins, oils, pillow satchels, cedar closet hangers. I am down. Berry Splash, French vanilla, Glistening Snow, Rainstorm, Papaya & Mango, Fresh Linen. I'll take it all.
Especially when they are on sale, I go crazy. And I just cannot buy the one scent in a spray. I have to buy the one scent in the spray, the candle, the plug in--all for each room of my apartment. I want it to smell like Fresh Linen on a Spring Day as soon as I walk into my apartment.
And I'll spray anything and everything with a scent. I can easily spend $50 on home scents. Easy.
FYI: Bath and Body Works has the strongest plug-in scented air freshners, ever. The best.
3. I partially cheated on the SATs. Partially, as in in a little wee bit, and it could have been partially, as in almost all the way. (Let's just say, I always sucked at math)
Uhm hmm. And I'm not proud of it. But gosh darn it, I am so proud that I got away with it. Don't even ask me how. It was a very sad case of desperation and insecurity. And I will mention how my high school GPA was so high that I didn't need to cheat. I only did it because the means were presented to me, it seemed like a sure thing (and it was!) and I never close the door when opportunity knocks. (That was probably my motto in high school)
Do I regret it? Hell. No.
And before you go thinking something, I understand that there are tons of kids that were/ are dying to get into UT. I know that. But back then, the pressure was enough for me to entertain and execute the idea.
And I got my 18 year old self's back on this, 100%.
For the other record, I was an AP Honors Gifted student. (I wasn't in 2nd grade when I was supposed to be in Kindergarten, Swishy) Would I do it again? Hell. No.
Do I still have to go on with 4 and 5?
4. Do y'all care anymore? Just kidding. I LOVE LOVE LOVE show tunes. I just recently discovered that I have XM radio through my cable with my subscription. That was probably my neighbor's worst day. And I found the showtune station.
I have it on for hours. At top volume level. Through my Bose speakers. Real. Loud. And you better believe that I am singing just as loud on top of it.
I just wish closed caption worked on the XM, so I could sing the proper words along with. Oy. My poor neighbor.
5. I watch television with closed captions. I'm not deaf. (even though, an ex-boyfriend swears I am deaf because of the closed captions)
I just prefer to read what I'm watching. And those buggers come in handy. Have you ever been watching TV and had no idea what they mumbled or what the person on the other end of the telephone convo is saying? Yep. Yep. Captions tell you everything.
Sometimes, they are hilarious--when they need to describe a sound made, for the deaf. "Dish clatters" I always wonder--do the deaf know what clattered dishes sound like? Seriously.
This obsession only becomes a problem when someone watches TV with me. I get begged to remove it from the screen and am forced to listen. To actually listen and not read the TV is a nightmare for me. I've been closed captioning television ever since I was in 8th grade.
It was (and still is) always a silent war in my parents house. They or my brother would remove it whenever they watched without me and I'd add back on. It was a constant back and forth. All the time.
And then there is the movie theater. Seriously, when can they come out with a theater for the deaf? (Is there one? or do they really have to wait for the DVD?) I hate not having my closed captions at the movies. Just hate it.
I apologize if some you did know. Oh, well.
1. Every time it rains in the Fall or Winter, I stop at the grocery store and buy: Texas Toast, American Cheese, and smoked ham. Tomato soup is always a staple in my pantry.
Rainy cold day dinners are always grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. It's become my own little tradition. So if its cold and rainy in Texas, you know what I'm having.
2. I am addicted to home scent products. AirWick, Glade, Febreeze, Pier 1 Imports, Bath and Body Works. Candles, room sprays, plug-ins, oils, pillow satchels, cedar closet hangers. I am down. Berry Splash, French vanilla, Glistening Snow, Rainstorm, Papaya & Mango, Fresh Linen. I'll take it all.
Especially when they are on sale, I go crazy. And I just cannot buy the one scent in a spray. I have to buy the one scent in the spray, the candle, the plug in--all for each room of my apartment. I want it to smell like Fresh Linen on a Spring Day as soon as I walk into my apartment.
And I'll spray anything and everything with a scent. I can easily spend $50 on home scents. Easy.
FYI: Bath and Body Works has the strongest plug-in scented air freshners, ever. The best.
3. I partially cheated on the SATs. Partially, as in in a little wee bit, and it could have been partially, as in almost all the way. (Let's just say, I always sucked at math)
Uhm hmm. And I'm not proud of it. But gosh darn it, I am so proud that I got away with it. Don't even ask me how. It was a very sad case of desperation and insecurity. And I will mention how my high school GPA was so high that I didn't need to cheat. I only did it because the means were presented to me, it seemed like a sure thing (and it was!) and I never close the door when opportunity knocks. (That was probably my motto in high school)
Do I regret it? Hell. No.
And before you go thinking something, I understand that there are tons of kids that were/ are dying to get into UT. I know that. But back then, the pressure was enough for me to entertain and execute the idea.
And I got my 18 year old self's back on this, 100%.
For the other record, I was an AP Honors Gifted student. (I wasn't in 2nd grade when I was supposed to be in Kindergarten, Swishy) Would I do it again? Hell. No.
Do I still have to go on with 4 and 5?
4. Do y'all care anymore? Just kidding. I LOVE LOVE LOVE show tunes. I just recently discovered that I have XM radio through my cable with my subscription. That was probably my neighbor's worst day. And I found the showtune station.
I have it on for hours. At top volume level. Through my Bose speakers. Real. Loud. And you better believe that I am singing just as loud on top of it.
I just wish closed caption worked on the XM, so I could sing the proper words along with. Oy. My poor neighbor.
5. I watch television with closed captions. I'm not deaf. (even though, an ex-boyfriend swears I am deaf because of the closed captions)
I just prefer to read what I'm watching. And those buggers come in handy. Have you ever been watching TV and had no idea what they mumbled or what the person on the other end of the telephone convo is saying? Yep. Yep. Captions tell you everything.
Sometimes, they are hilarious--when they need to describe a sound made, for the deaf. "Dish clatters" I always wonder--do the deaf know what clattered dishes sound like? Seriously.
This obsession only becomes a problem when someone watches TV with me. I get begged to remove it from the screen and am forced to listen. To actually listen and not read the TV is a nightmare for me. I've been closed captioning television ever since I was in 8th grade.
It was (and still is) always a silent war in my parents house. They or my brother would remove it whenever they watched without me and I'd add back on. It was a constant back and forth. All the time.
And then there is the movie theater. Seriously, when can they come out with a theater for the deaf? (Is there one? or do they really have to wait for the DVD?) I hate not having my closed captions at the movies. Just hate it.
Fame? Gets You Nowhere.
I was loving me some Oprah today.
1. Madonna. You just have to love the fact that this woman has kept this faux-English accent for years. Love it. The woman is committed if nothing else. And I love, love, love Madonna. I do. But isn't the adoption controversy old news and just a tad bit too much. I don't know where to go with it. First the dad was all for her getting the child. Then the activists got involved and pointed fingers, blah blah. Then the dad is going against what he originally said. What the heck is happening here? More importantly, who cares? She wants to adopt, let her. And I am just about sick of people comparing and saying that she should adopt an American child because there are so many unwanted American kids up for adoption.
I have to get political for a second with that one.
American adoptees have ten times a better life than a child, whose life expectancy is only to the age of 14 in poverty Africa. And that's a healthy African child I'm speaking of. Yes, I know the foster system here sucks. But we have a government that supports that child. There, they don't.
And on another note, how freaking smart are they? Bringing attention to something that most people had no idea existed. I'm on team Jolie (toodles, Aniston lovers) and I think the woman is genius. Spending all that time in Africa, fully knowing that the media and papparazzi would follow and bring exposure to all of that happening over there? Each celeb that has followed suit, go them. Adopt, away. That's all I have to say about that.
But back to Madonna and her point on Oprah.
She flat out stated that you'd think the fact that she is famous would get her through all this red tape crap.
Think. Again.
2. Dixie Chicks.
They look good. And can we discuss the shoes? And Natalie's outfit? Super-duper cute to the tenth power! I heard less than half the interview because they were too cute with themselves. But I was loving the fact that Natalie will still stay strongly by her words and has no regret.
Because I hate when people say what they mean and then take it all back due to the unpopular opinion.
And why isn't their documentary showing in Dallas? WHY?
The funniest clip Oprah aired was when the security guard was explaining to each Chick the death threat for that nights performance and what they were doing about it at the entrances to the venue. The main security guy showed them all the picture of the 'threat-maker'. Natalie's response was:
WAIT FOR IT.
"He's cu-ute"
I wish everyday was Madonna and Dixie Chicks on Oprah. If for anything, the shoes!
1. Madonna. You just have to love the fact that this woman has kept this faux-English accent for years. Love it. The woman is committed if nothing else. And I love, love, love Madonna. I do. But isn't the adoption controversy old news and just a tad bit too much. I don't know where to go with it. First the dad was all for her getting the child. Then the activists got involved and pointed fingers, blah blah. Then the dad is going against what he originally said. What the heck is happening here? More importantly, who cares? She wants to adopt, let her. And I am just about sick of people comparing and saying that she should adopt an American child because there are so many unwanted American kids up for adoption.
I have to get political for a second with that one.
American adoptees have ten times a better life than a child, whose life expectancy is only to the age of 14 in poverty Africa. And that's a healthy African child I'm speaking of. Yes, I know the foster system here sucks. But we have a government that supports that child. There, they don't.
And on another note, how freaking smart are they? Bringing attention to something that most people had no idea existed. I'm on team Jolie (toodles, Aniston lovers) and I think the woman is genius. Spending all that time in Africa, fully knowing that the media and papparazzi would follow and bring exposure to all of that happening over there? Each celeb that has followed suit, go them. Adopt, away. That's all I have to say about that.
But back to Madonna and her point on Oprah.
She flat out stated that you'd think the fact that she is famous would get her through all this red tape crap.
Think. Again.
2. Dixie Chicks.
They look good. And can we discuss the shoes? And Natalie's outfit? Super-duper cute to the tenth power! I heard less than half the interview because they were too cute with themselves. But I was loving the fact that Natalie will still stay strongly by her words and has no regret.
Because I hate when people say what they mean and then take it all back due to the unpopular opinion.
And why isn't their documentary showing in Dallas? WHY?
The funniest clip Oprah aired was when the security guard was explaining to each Chick the death threat for that nights performance and what they were doing about it at the entrances to the venue. The main security guy showed them all the picture of the 'threat-maker'. Natalie's response was:
WAIT FOR IT.
"He's cu-ute"
I wish everyday was Madonna and Dixie Chicks on Oprah. If for anything, the shoes!
Tuesday, October 24
Thank. You. Dallas!
I don't like the Cowboys. I'm not from here, so there! I don't have to, if I don't want to. But thank goodness all my ex-coworkers love them some Cowboys.
I went against the popular vote this week (estupid men!) and went against Dallas.
1. I so believe, the Giants are going far this year. You heard it, here, first.
2. With that said, I will rarely go against the Giants, this season.
3. With the way all the other teams are acting, I'm staring directly at the Steelers (and the Eagles, and Jacksonville---what the?) I need to bank more on the Giants, who seem to be consistent with themselves and my prophecy. So, go Giants, ok?
Going against the grain, got me, where? huh? who?
THE TOP OF THE POOL, BABY!
YEAH...
Take that, Saints.
In the wake of all this wonderfulness (and my Partners departure from our pool*), I've decided to stop fighting and am choosing New Orleans as a pick this week.
I know. But get this, it's in New Orleans, so you know, the game is most likely fixed, anyways.
But I won this week! YIPPEE!
*Partner came out to me and left my pool. The competition and me were too much for him to handle. He said that he wasn't paying that much attention to begin with (duh) and football ain't really his thang (duh, duh). And I was taking too seriously (DUH).
He left me. Boo. But he left a gift as well, he said that I don't need to split any winnings with him. OH-kay!
And isn't it ironic, the week he leaves, is the week I win?
I'm just saying.
I went against the popular vote this week (estupid men!) and went against Dallas.
1. I so believe, the Giants are going far this year. You heard it, here, first.
2. With that said, I will rarely go against the Giants, this season.
3. With the way all the other teams are acting, I'm staring directly at the Steelers (and the Eagles, and Jacksonville---what the?) I need to bank more on the Giants, who seem to be consistent with themselves and my prophecy. So, go Giants, ok?
Going against the grain, got me, where? huh? who?
THE TOP OF THE POOL, BABY!
YEAH...
Take that, Saints.
In the wake of all this wonderfulness (and my Partners departure from our pool*), I've decided to stop fighting and am choosing New Orleans as a pick this week.
I know. But get this, it's in New Orleans, so you know, the game is most likely fixed, anyways.
But I won this week! YIPPEE!
*Partner came out to me and left my pool. The competition and me were too much for him to handle. He said that he wasn't paying that much attention to begin with (duh) and football ain't really his thang (duh, duh). And I was taking too seriously (DUH).
He left me. Boo. But he left a gift as well, he said that I don't need to split any winnings with him. OH-kay!
And isn't it ironic, the week he leaves, is the week I win?
I'm just saying.
Monday, October 23
I Drove to San Antonio
There is so much wrong in that sentence.
I never drive to San Antonio. And I used to before I discovered the wonderfulness of Southwest Airlines. If you do it right, you can pay less than the gas for a 50 minute flight versus a 4 hour drive (3 1/2 hours if you know how to get it done)
I drove this time because I don't know how to look at a calendar and plan accordingly. (Funny, that's not the reason the Law Firm fired me) I think I was born in the wrong decade. I need to live in a time calendars and watches do not exist.
I thought I flew to save on the time. Huh. I found out while driving, the real reason to fly is to avoid all the distraction.
There are 3 Prime Outlet Shopping Malls on i-35 between Dallas and San Antonio.
Austin, my favorite, is a huge distraction for me. Driving through it, makes me want to just pull over and set up camp. Shop, eat, party.
I made it to SA without stopping.
I met up with Pecos Girl, my friend Daniel, his friend, and the funniest girl on the planet. We went to eat lunch, which was supposed to be brunch but my happy ass was baking cupcakes at 3AM the night before; so the planned departure time of 7AM turned into 9AM.
The lunch was great. Food, yummy. Conversation, hilarious.
The bill time? Not so much fun.
This fool at our table decided to argue about the gratuity tip added to our bill. He didn't think it was right because we were a party of five and not six. He argued it with the waiter. In front of us--who did care.
The waiter obliged and returned with a new bill. (note: that he got the same freaking amount of tip anyway)
THE fool that argued the bill; wasn't even paying for his part of the bill. My friend Daniel was paying for him and his lunch (oy, don't get me started on that)
If you ain't paying, why you arguing?
Then it was off for the real reason why I was in town: SK's birthday. We bought some pre-party champagne, toasted, and hit the town at a bar called Karma.
(hee hee hee)
I love the birthday girl, but she was drunky drunk half an hour into the bar. It's her birthday and she can do it up as she pleased, but it would've been ten times more fun if she was kicking one time and partying with the people present to party for her birthday. It was still mad fun. Fun people and especially more fun when we left and went to a different bar.
The next day, I re-discovered the yumminess of CPK. Holey crap that stuff is good. And the bread! Oy, the bread. I think I ate 3 loaves by myself.
The ride back. Even with the stop, I did the drive in 3 hours and 23 minutes. Word. To your Mama.
Because that's how you do it.
An hour to Austin. An hour to Waco. An hour to Dallas.
I never did more than 80 miles an hour.
Done.
I never drive to San Antonio. And I used to before I discovered the wonderfulness of Southwest Airlines. If you do it right, you can pay less than the gas for a 50 minute flight versus a 4 hour drive (3 1/2 hours if you know how to get it done)
I drove this time because I don't know how to look at a calendar and plan accordingly. (Funny, that's not the reason the Law Firm fired me) I think I was born in the wrong decade. I need to live in a time calendars and watches do not exist.
I thought I flew to save on the time. Huh. I found out while driving, the real reason to fly is to avoid all the distraction.
There are 3 Prime Outlet Shopping Malls on i-35 between Dallas and San Antonio.
Austin, my favorite, is a huge distraction for me. Driving through it, makes me want to just pull over and set up camp. Shop, eat, party.
I made it to SA without stopping.
I met up with Pecos Girl, my friend Daniel, his friend, and the funniest girl on the planet. We went to eat lunch, which was supposed to be brunch but my happy ass was baking cupcakes at 3AM the night before; so the planned departure time of 7AM turned into 9AM.
The lunch was great. Food, yummy. Conversation, hilarious.
The bill time? Not so much fun.
This fool at our table decided to argue about the gratuity tip added to our bill. He didn't think it was right because we were a party of five and not six. He argued it with the waiter. In front of us--who did care.
The waiter obliged and returned with a new bill. (note: that he got the same freaking amount of tip anyway)
THE fool that argued the bill; wasn't even paying for his part of the bill. My friend Daniel was paying for him and his lunch (oy, don't get me started on that)
If you ain't paying, why you arguing?
Then it was off for the real reason why I was in town: SK's birthday. We bought some pre-party champagne, toasted, and hit the town at a bar called Karma.
(hee hee hee)
I love the birthday girl, but she was drunky drunk half an hour into the bar. It's her birthday and she can do it up as she pleased, but it would've been ten times more fun if she was kicking one time and partying with the people present to party for her birthday. It was still mad fun. Fun people and especially more fun when we left and went to a different bar.
The next day, I re-discovered the yumminess of CPK. Holey crap that stuff is good. And the bread! Oy, the bread. I think I ate 3 loaves by myself.
The ride back. Even with the stop, I did the drive in 3 hours and 23 minutes. Word. To your Mama.
Because that's how you do it.
An hour to Austin. An hour to Waco. An hour to Dallas.
I never did more than 80 miles an hour.
Done.
Thursday, October 19
My McSlutty
It's official. Ugly Betty has won me over. Big. Time. I love Betty, Walter, Daniel, the whole cast, even her gay nephew--he is too presh.
"Spring Manolos 2004"
I have a Thursday night ritual. Chipotle then couch for 3 hours straight. Don't call me until you see the end credits rolling on 6 Degrees. That's just how it is. I leave my cell phone in the other room. I usually hear it ringing around 8:30PM. There is only one person in the world who'd be calling me during Grey's. My mom. I think she is the only one I know that isn't die hard, must be in front of the TV at a certain to watch a certain show.
Me? I have several and no TIVO or DVR. Can you believe that my cable company doesn't offer DVR services. What? The? Year 2000?
I do still live like 1996 and have a VCR. I'll never throw out my VHS'.
There's something nostalgic about having to rewind and fast forward a tape.
(gosh do you think babies born this year will never know what a tape is?)
I must see my TV live. My Project Runway (the only thing I was excited about on Wednesday was Heidi Klum and her accent. The finale was a bore. Snoooooze. I think I could come up with a better collection and I cannot thread a needle.)
My LOST. What the F is going on? I am thisclose to giving up. My brain cannot take it anymore and I'm almost on the not-caring about what the F is happening.
My Nip/ Tuck. I hate the way they drop story lines on you. What happened to Brooke Shields? Did she get tattoo and leave?
My Girlfriends. I thought it would suck big time without Toni. Turns out it does. The only story that has my attention is that William is with and engaged to Monica. The actress that plays Monica cracks me up. I don't know how she can do it with a straight face. The voice. The hair. The bitchy!
My Brothers & Sisters. I need to write a letter to the writers. I want/ need to see more Bathlazar Getty. I need my Bathly. We've seen the other siblings' personal lives and not his. Por que ABC?
And of course, my Grey's. Now, I can add a new female to my Girl Crush list: Callie.
You are the shit. I LOVE her. Almost as much as I love Heidi and her accent.
Callie kicks ass.
I love how the writers took the show a full 360 with McSteamy in bed with Callie and then Addison. And both of them telling him to shut up. Hilarious.
And what a slut is he! YUM. I likey.
And here's where I need to drop a F bomb: What the fuck, Izzie?
Not going to cash a $8.4 mil check? Yeah. Right.
At least she is out of Denny's sweater. But still the ghost of Denny still haunts the show. Will the day ever come when they do not mention his name on an episode? Please? Pretty please?
It's way way too much now. I won't be shocked if Denny has a twin brother that shows up wanting to date Izzie or needs Denny's organs or something or comes to battle her out for the check. I'm just saying, I won't be shocked if a twin showed up. Remember, you heard it here first, if it does happen.
"Spring Manolos 2004"
I have a Thursday night ritual. Chipotle then couch for 3 hours straight. Don't call me until you see the end credits rolling on 6 Degrees. That's just how it is. I leave my cell phone in the other room. I usually hear it ringing around 8:30PM. There is only one person in the world who'd be calling me during Grey's. My mom. I think she is the only one I know that isn't die hard, must be in front of the TV at a certain to watch a certain show.
Me? I have several and no TIVO or DVR. Can you believe that my cable company doesn't offer DVR services. What? The? Year 2000?
I do still live like 1996 and have a VCR. I'll never throw out my VHS'.
There's something nostalgic about having to rewind and fast forward a tape.
(gosh do you think babies born this year will never know what a tape is?)
I must see my TV live. My Project Runway (the only thing I was excited about on Wednesday was Heidi Klum and her accent. The finale was a bore. Snoooooze. I think I could come up with a better collection and I cannot thread a needle.)
My LOST. What the F is going on? I am thisclose to giving up. My brain cannot take it anymore and I'm almost on the not-caring about what the F is happening.
My Nip/ Tuck. I hate the way they drop story lines on you. What happened to Brooke Shields? Did she get tattoo and leave?
My Girlfriends. I thought it would suck big time without Toni. Turns out it does. The only story that has my attention is that William is with and engaged to Monica. The actress that plays Monica cracks me up. I don't know how she can do it with a straight face. The voice. The hair. The bitchy!
My Brothers & Sisters. I need to write a letter to the writers. I want/ need to see more Bathlazar Getty. I need my Bathly. We've seen the other siblings' personal lives and not his. Por que ABC?
And of course, my Grey's. Now, I can add a new female to my Girl Crush list: Callie.
You are the shit. I LOVE her. Almost as much as I love Heidi and her accent.
Callie kicks ass.
I love how the writers took the show a full 360 with McSteamy in bed with Callie and then Addison. And both of them telling him to shut up. Hilarious.
And what a slut is he! YUM. I likey.
And here's where I need to drop a F bomb: What the fuck, Izzie?
Not going to cash a $8.4 mil check? Yeah. Right.
At least she is out of Denny's sweater. But still the ghost of Denny still haunts the show. Will the day ever come when they do not mention his name on an episode? Please? Pretty please?
It's way way too much now. I won't be shocked if Denny has a twin brother that shows up wanting to date Izzie or needs Denny's organs or something or comes to battle her out for the check. I'm just saying, I won't be shocked if a twin showed up. Remember, you heard it here first, if it does happen.
Tuesday, October 17
Got Milk?
Thanks to that Pecos Girl, I cannot stop thinking about opening my own business. The ideas are swirling in my mind. Hmm...
In other news, it's that wonderful time of the month again. And I am shocked that I am able to sit up semi-straight and type this. The Cramps. Are killing me.
And it's my own damn fault.
I never drink milk. Ever. In the other twenty days of the month, that is. During this particular week, it's all I want. IV me with milk, I'm good. Find me crawling in bent over pain an hour later.
Already, it's only been two days, and I alone have gone through 3 half gallon 2% milk cartons.
YES. (and there are no cookies here, or cupcakes)
I've also gone through a pint of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough from Blue Bell; a half a bag of cheese on a salad; ricotta cheese on grilled pork (and no, I'm not pregnant and yes, I realize how disgusting that sounds); pads of butter on an English muffin (do you capitalize that "E" or no?); and yogurt.
I so hate yogurt.
You'd think I'd learn something, somewhere in between the trips to the toilet. You'd think.
Each month, I swear the next will be different. Lesson is never learned. And I find myself lactose intolerant and screaming for anyone to take out my uterus and sell it on the black market*. Just do it. I don't deserve one with the way I treat it each month.
*Do people do that? Like they do the kidney black market shit? Like on Nip/Tuck--anyone watching that? Because Brooke Shields is SCARING me, big time!
In other news, it's that wonderful time of the month again. And I am shocked that I am able to sit up semi-straight and type this. The Cramps. Are killing me.
And it's my own damn fault.
I never drink milk. Ever. In the other twenty days of the month, that is. During this particular week, it's all I want. IV me with milk, I'm good. Find me crawling in bent over pain an hour later.
Already, it's only been two days, and I alone have gone through 3 half gallon 2% milk cartons.
YES. (and there are no cookies here, or cupcakes)
I've also gone through a pint of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough from Blue Bell; a half a bag of cheese on a salad; ricotta cheese on grilled pork (and no, I'm not pregnant and yes, I realize how disgusting that sounds); pads of butter on an English muffin (do you capitalize that "E" or no?); and yogurt.
I so hate yogurt.
You'd think I'd learn something, somewhere in between the trips to the toilet. You'd think.
Each month, I swear the next will be different. Lesson is never learned. And I find myself lactose intolerant and screaming for anyone to take out my uterus and sell it on the black market*. Just do it. I don't deserve one with the way I treat it each month.
*Do people do that? Like they do the kidney black market shit? Like on Nip/Tuck--anyone watching that? Because Brooke Shields is SCARING me, big time!
Monday, October 16
NFL!?!?!?
I'm done with them, too. It is over. So over.
New Orleans beat Philadelphia?
This has to be rigged...
Tampa Bay beat Cincinnati?
Who? What? How?
And my Partner came out to me.
In the most uncomfortable 'platonic' dinner-date ever, my Partner in my football pool told me how he is gay.
Well, that explains his sucky football picks (except for his New Orleans pick...mofo!)
I had my clues: he works in a female dominated industry; he is fashionable; he likes to go out dancing; he walks funny for a guy; and...wait for it: he subscribes to InStyle.
UHM HMM.
I didn't even make the assumption when I found out that he subscribed to that magazine. I was a wee bit shocked that a guy would get it by mail; but I often caught (Not So)Incredible reading my issues. And I don't think of InStyle as catered solely to women like say, Cosmo or Glamour are.
So when he was finished proclaiming his gay status; the NFL looked as if it had some confessions of its own to do...seriously. Tampa Bay?!?!
Come. On.
How do you even pick for next week? Do we mark this weekend as a bust? Or are we actually convinced that the sucky teams are getting better?*
And it wasn't just pro-ball either...did you see the Baylor v. UT game? Oh gosh. We won, thank goodness and I didn't doubt it. But the first half of that game, Baylor played like they thought they were going to win. And I was scared.
And (kind of smiling) Adrian Peterson is out for the year (hee)--not that anyone's injury is anything to be happy about--and they are no longer a threat (as if they ever were)...but I'm mentioning it for all those Red Raiders, Baylor Bears, and uhm, I guess, those Aggies.
*Honestly, I think we need a review. I know this may be a wrong thought, but I'm picturing the Saint's owner having a little talk in a dark alley with whatever opposing team's coach. It's going a little something like this:
"Listen, I know we suck as a team. We need the win. Not for me, not for us, but for the city and mankind. Most of all we just need the money...the more we win, the more we get. So. Just lose and I'll put a little somethin'-somethin' in your back pocket for you"
I just think that any home game for the Saints is going to be a 'fixed' win for them. Because? Philadelphia? Come. On.
New Orleans beat Philadelphia?
This has to be rigged...
Tampa Bay beat Cincinnati?
Who? What? How?
And my Partner came out to me.
In the most uncomfortable 'platonic' dinner-date ever, my Partner in my football pool told me how he is gay.
Well, that explains his sucky football picks (except for his New Orleans pick...mofo!)
I had my clues: he works in a female dominated industry; he is fashionable; he likes to go out dancing; he walks funny for a guy; and...wait for it: he subscribes to InStyle.
UHM HMM.
I didn't even make the assumption when I found out that he subscribed to that magazine. I was a wee bit shocked that a guy would get it by mail; but I often caught (Not So)Incredible reading my issues. And I don't think of InStyle as catered solely to women like say, Cosmo or Glamour are.
So when he was finished proclaiming his gay status; the NFL looked as if it had some confessions of its own to do...seriously. Tampa Bay?!?!
Come. On.
How do you even pick for next week? Do we mark this weekend as a bust? Or are we actually convinced that the sucky teams are getting better?*
And it wasn't just pro-ball either...did you see the Baylor v. UT game? Oh gosh. We won, thank goodness and I didn't doubt it. But the first half of that game, Baylor played like they thought they were going to win. And I was scared.
And (kind of smiling) Adrian Peterson is out for the year (hee)--not that anyone's injury is anything to be happy about--and they are no longer a threat (as if they ever were)...but I'm mentioning it for all those Red Raiders, Baylor Bears, and uhm, I guess, those Aggies.
*Honestly, I think we need a review. I know this may be a wrong thought, but I'm picturing the Saint's owner having a little talk in a dark alley with whatever opposing team's coach. It's going a little something like this:
"Listen, I know we suck as a team. We need the win. Not for me, not for us, but for the city and mankind. Most of all we just need the money...the more we win, the more we get. So. Just lose and I'll put a little somethin'-somethin' in your back pocket for you"
I just think that any home game for the Saints is going to be a 'fixed' win for them. Because? Philadelphia? Come. On.
Friday, October 13
10-13
HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PECOS GIRL!!
I hope you have a great birthday weekend and that the party is a hit! You have such a big heart full of dreams and I hope that each of them come true!
xoxo
Now...this next sentence may make a weirdo to all you Grey's Anatomy fans, but here goes-
I never liked Denny Duccette. I disliked the story line when he was alive so much, that I would take each of those scenes as commercial breaks and do something other than watch the television. I think it was dragged out forever. And now? That he's dead, I dislike him even more.
When is Izzie going to get out of his sweater?
When are we never going to be reminded that yes, she was going to marry him, yes she put her career on the line, yes, he is dead.
Please, please let's move on, already!
It bores me to tears.
But...
Last night it was worth the pain to see the story line still being played out because Callie hooked up with McSteamy!
I was clapping out loud for her.
I still got love for George. But just the fact that the underdog, the less pretty girl, the chunkier girl got to hook up with the hottest thing on TV made me squeal with glee.
YIP-YIP-YIPEE!
If Addison ain't taking it, Callie might as well swoop in there and get her some.
Can you tell, I was so happy.
And I'm back on Ugly Betty which has turned a 180 of better for me with the last two episodes. I just love love the ghetto sister. Last week when she and the slutty neighbor got into it, HILARIOUS. I had to re-watch that on abc.com. I also love the fact that Betty is such a strong woman that she is not taking Walter back (so easily--because it looks like eventually they may end up together). I find it so cute that she is so energetic about her job, no matter the shit she has to put up with from them.
And can I also add that I am loving that ABC is allowing us to watch shows for 'free' unlike the other station where you have to pay. Loves it.
Today I'm getting the stunk off me and venturing out to Target and the nail salon for a manicure. I haven't been to Target in forever, so you know I'll be in there for at least two hours, oohing and awing over all the stuff and leaving with more than I went in for (mouthwash and a lint brush).
Have a great weekend. TGIF!
I hope you have a great birthday weekend and that the party is a hit! You have such a big heart full of dreams and I hope that each of them come true!
xoxo
Now...this next sentence may make a weirdo to all you Grey's Anatomy fans, but here goes-
I never liked Denny Duccette. I disliked the story line when he was alive so much, that I would take each of those scenes as commercial breaks and do something other than watch the television. I think it was dragged out forever. And now? That he's dead, I dislike him even more.
When is Izzie going to get out of his sweater?
When are we never going to be reminded that yes, she was going to marry him, yes she put her career on the line, yes, he is dead.
Please, please let's move on, already!
It bores me to tears.
But...
Last night it was worth the pain to see the story line still being played out because Callie hooked up with McSteamy!
I was clapping out loud for her.
I still got love for George. But just the fact that the underdog, the less pretty girl, the chunkier girl got to hook up with the hottest thing on TV made me squeal with glee.
YIP-YIP-YIPEE!
If Addison ain't taking it, Callie might as well swoop in there and get her some.
Can you tell, I was so happy.
And I'm back on Ugly Betty which has turned a 180 of better for me with the last two episodes. I just love love the ghetto sister. Last week when she and the slutty neighbor got into it, HILARIOUS. I had to re-watch that on abc.com. I also love the fact that Betty is such a strong woman that she is not taking Walter back (so easily--because it looks like eventually they may end up together). I find it so cute that she is so energetic about her job, no matter the shit she has to put up with from them.
And can I also add that I am loving that ABC is allowing us to watch shows for 'free' unlike the other station where you have to pay. Loves it.
Today I'm getting the stunk off me and venturing out to Target and the nail salon for a manicure. I haven't been to Target in forever, so you know I'll be in there for at least two hours, oohing and awing over all the stuff and leaving with more than I went in for (mouthwash and a lint brush).
Have a great weekend. TGIF!
Thursday, October 12
"Let Them Have Cake"
I gave all the cupcakes away. I drove to my old office (pre-law firm) and gave them away to my old co-workers. I didn't stick around for any validation.
I needed to come back home and mope. Fuck validation.
So mope, I did.
Made eggs benedict and popped in 'Hope Floats' because seriously, the only thing to help the moping is to watch a sadder case then yours moping, too. And that Birdee Calvert knows how to mope in true style.
Verdict?
I'm just going to have to try extra hard not to give so much to those shitty people in my life. It'll be hard. Because I know I won't be able to stick with it.
I'm too nice.
They'll need me and I'll go to them.
They'll text me and I'll most likely be the quickest response.
They'll ask a favor and I won't turn it down.
This is life, no?
We all have that group of people who know they can depend on you. Yet, they have no qualms about being AWOL when it comes time to be there for you.
It's been two months. 2 months and the only person who has calls me during the day is Bev and my friend, SK. 2 months and I've seen my friends less than when I was gainfully employed.
Is it true that you find out real character in times of need?
Where would I be, if a friend lost their job and was lonely during the day or night?
I can't even answer that because it hasn't happened to anyone that lives in the same city as I.
From these two months, I learned that I will be there for them.
Maybe that's what it takes, you have to be in this situation to fully understand how it feels.
Will I be better for it?
I hope so.
I think in the end, it'll make me a better person. There is a lot you learn about yourself when it's just you.
It's finally time that the 2 months came to an end.
I needed to come back home and mope. Fuck validation.
So mope, I did.
Made eggs benedict and popped in 'Hope Floats' because seriously, the only thing to help the moping is to watch a sadder case then yours moping, too. And that Birdee Calvert knows how to mope in true style.
Verdict?
I'm just going to have to try extra hard not to give so much to those shitty people in my life. It'll be hard. Because I know I won't be able to stick with it.
I'm too nice.
They'll need me and I'll go to them.
They'll text me and I'll most likely be the quickest response.
They'll ask a favor and I won't turn it down.
This is life, no?
We all have that group of people who know they can depend on you. Yet, they have no qualms about being AWOL when it comes time to be there for you.
It's been two months. 2 months and the only person who has calls me during the day is Bev and my friend, SK. 2 months and I've seen my friends less than when I was gainfully employed.
Is it true that you find out real character in times of need?
Where would I be, if a friend lost their job and was lonely during the day or night?
I can't even answer that because it hasn't happened to anyone that lives in the same city as I.
From these two months, I learned that I will be there for them.
Maybe that's what it takes, you have to be in this situation to fully understand how it feels.
Will I be better for it?
I hope so.
I think in the end, it'll make me a better person. There is a lot you learn about yourself when it's just you.
It's finally time that the 2 months came to an end.
Wednesday, October 11
{SIGH}
I'm done. Finished.
I don't know what's stopping me from packing it all in and saying sayanora.
Yes. It's not about the cupcakes, but let me tell you how my whole fucking day is just ruined because of them.
I had four.
I hate chocolate. I can't even begin to tell you guys how much I dislike it. But hey, yeah, Crazy here baked chocolate cupcakes.
And for what?
Validation.
I will admit that I need it. I need it more now than I ever did. Why?
No job. Talking to myself in the middle of the day. Sleepless nights. And those fucking Hours.
They are a bitch.
I want to throw the cupcakes away because I feel like they are laughing at me from underneath the cake dome.
It's only been two days.
And yes, I need someone to come over and stick one up their mouth and tell me it tastes good.
That's all I need. I don't want it because I'm better than griping about that, but I know myself better and to stop the tears, I need it.
I really just need someone to answer that mutherfucking text message.
I swear I am not that crazy where my esteem is based on something this small and trivial because the cupcakes symbolize a lot more...
I had an IM with Bev (sorry, Bev) and some people just suck. I cannot get into here but let me tell you, these past 2 months have been Hell.
I'm baking to fill in an hour. I need that output of mine to be praised by someone because there is nothing else happening. You go to work, your output is either praised or used or taken advantage of. Mine?
What can I say?
I've received rejection after rejection from interviews where I didn't get the job. I don't want my cupcakes to be rejected as well.
And nobody has tried them!
It's not about a cupcake. Its about my friends. My relationships with some of them.
Why do I put in more with the shitty friends than I do with my honest to good true friends--NOT YOU--because if you are my friend and you know the blog exists, you are one of the true honest ones. And I'm sorry that I give more to the shitty people in my life, but its like I said...
I need validation. I need a pat on the back. I need someone to just stop by, randomly come on over. I'm here not doing anything. And supposedly I am your friend.
Why am I always the one that gives more? When do I get to take?
Today I cried a mess in my doctors* office. Niagara had nothing on me. I cried a mess and I'm sure my mom is going to be calling me soon. I cried harder than ever, the doctor couldn't understand a word I said. It was gosh awful.
I'm so frustrated with the cupcakes. Again it's not about them but what they symbolize right now. I'm not that petty.
But. Gee. Golly. DAMN!
Doesn't anyone want one? Just come over. Take one. Give me the validation I need.
What I definitely don't want anymore.
Seriously.
They're just cupcakes, and it was just a text message and how/why am I measuring them against my friendships?
Validation. That I did something while alone during the hours. That I tried something new (because I hate chocolate) and it turned out okay. That someone else may occupy the space I am in for hours, for just a few moments. That other people care.
Or maybe they could just buy me lunch or a drink---don't get me going on that because it's whole lot more tears, Bev knows what I'm talking about.
I just need the validation. That they do know that I still exist.
Yes, I feel like the unanswered text is them laughing, rolling their eyes, SOMETHING that I cannot explain really well. I apologize that I cannot word what that is for you. All I know is that if I was on the receiving end of that text, I would have replied with something. Anything.
And its not about that or the cupcakes. Remember? It's about validation.
Because I hate chocolate.
*It was the OB/GYN and it turns out that crying gets you out of an exam. She is also my mom's buddy from medical school, so I am sure the whole mess has been reported to my mom. And in true form, my mom will probably call me later tonight to analyze the whole thing and her answer will be to move out to Phoenix--where I have an unconditional support system.
And I have no idea why I keep telling her no, I love Dallas.
I don't know what's stopping me from packing it all in and saying sayanora.
Yes. It's not about the cupcakes, but let me tell you how my whole fucking day is just ruined because of them.
I had four.
I hate chocolate. I can't even begin to tell you guys how much I dislike it. But hey, yeah, Crazy here baked chocolate cupcakes.
And for what?
Validation.
I will admit that I need it. I need it more now than I ever did. Why?
No job. Talking to myself in the middle of the day. Sleepless nights. And those fucking Hours.
They are a bitch.
I want to throw the cupcakes away because I feel like they are laughing at me from underneath the cake dome.
It's only been two days.
And yes, I need someone to come over and stick one up their mouth and tell me it tastes good.
That's all I need. I don't want it because I'm better than griping about that, but I know myself better and to stop the tears, I need it.
I really just need someone to answer that mutherfucking text message.
I swear I am not that crazy where my esteem is based on something this small and trivial because the cupcakes symbolize a lot more...
I had an IM with Bev (sorry, Bev) and some people just suck. I cannot get into here but let me tell you, these past 2 months have been Hell.
I'm baking to fill in an hour. I need that output of mine to be praised by someone because there is nothing else happening. You go to work, your output is either praised or used or taken advantage of. Mine?
What can I say?
I've received rejection after rejection from interviews where I didn't get the job. I don't want my cupcakes to be rejected as well.
And nobody has tried them!
It's not about a cupcake. Its about my friends. My relationships with some of them.
Why do I put in more with the shitty friends than I do with my honest to good true friends--NOT YOU--because if you are my friend and you know the blog exists, you are one of the true honest ones. And I'm sorry that I give more to the shitty people in my life, but its like I said...
I need validation. I need a pat on the back. I need someone to just stop by, randomly come on over. I'm here not doing anything. And supposedly I am your friend.
Why am I always the one that gives more? When do I get to take?
Today I cried a mess in my doctors* office. Niagara had nothing on me. I cried a mess and I'm sure my mom is going to be calling me soon. I cried harder than ever, the doctor couldn't understand a word I said. It was gosh awful.
I'm so frustrated with the cupcakes. Again it's not about them but what they symbolize right now. I'm not that petty.
But. Gee. Golly. DAMN!
Doesn't anyone want one? Just come over. Take one. Give me the validation I need.
What I definitely don't want anymore.
Seriously.
They're just cupcakes, and it was just a text message and how/why am I measuring them against my friendships?
Validation. That I did something while alone during the hours. That I tried something new (because I hate chocolate) and it turned out okay. That someone else may occupy the space I am in for hours, for just a few moments. That other people care.
Or maybe they could just buy me lunch or a drink---don't get me going on that because it's whole lot more tears, Bev knows what I'm talking about.
I just need the validation. That they do know that I still exist.
Yes, I feel like the unanswered text is them laughing, rolling their eyes, SOMETHING that I cannot explain really well. I apologize that I cannot word what that is for you. All I know is that if I was on the receiving end of that text, I would have replied with something. Anything.
And its not about that or the cupcakes. Remember? It's about validation.
Because I hate chocolate.
*It was the OB/GYN and it turns out that crying gets you out of an exam. She is also my mom's buddy from medical school, so I am sure the whole mess has been reported to my mom. And in true form, my mom will probably call me later tonight to analyze the whole thing and her answer will be to move out to Phoenix--where I have an unconditional support system.
And I have no idea why I keep telling her no, I love Dallas.
Pizza Pizza
I've been eyeing this pizza recipe for weeks now. Each time I re-read it, I kept thinking how can adapt this? Not that it didn't sound great as it was, I just need stuff to do during the hours at home.
Yesterday afternoon as the weather turned cooler, it was the perfect time to re-invent the recipe.
Onion, Canadian Bacon, & Potato Pizza
Pizza dough
1 half onion thinly sliced
2 Yukon Gold potatoes, thinly sliced
4 slices of Canadian bacon, cut in small chunks
onion jam*
heavy cream
olive oil
mix of Italian seasonings
salt and pepper
First make the onion jam.
saute the onions, potatoes, and canadian bacon in one skillet--until potatoes are fairly soft
Pre-cook pizza crust for about 3-5 minutes, then drizzle with olive oil.
Place onion-potato-bacon mixture on top of pizza crust
Drizzle with heavy cream
sprinkle with salt, pepper, Italian seasonings
Glop on onion mixture--about 3-4 spoons.
Bake in 450 deg oven for 25 minutes
Voila!
This yielded a 10 inch pizza, so adjust for more people.
*The onion jam was the best part of the pizza and made my tiny kitchen smell great! Let's just say this will be made many many more times in the Fall, and possibly for quick impromptu get togethers.
Yesterday afternoon as the weather turned cooler, it was the perfect time to re-invent the recipe.
Onion, Canadian Bacon, & Potato Pizza
Pizza dough
1 half onion thinly sliced
2 Yukon Gold potatoes, thinly sliced
4 slices of Canadian bacon, cut in small chunks
onion jam*
heavy cream
olive oil
mix of Italian seasonings
salt and pepper
First make the onion jam.
saute the onions, potatoes, and canadian bacon in one skillet--until potatoes are fairly soft
Pre-cook pizza crust for about 3-5 minutes, then drizzle with olive oil.
Place onion-potato-bacon mixture on top of pizza crust
Drizzle with heavy cream
sprinkle with salt, pepper, Italian seasonings
Glop on onion mixture--about 3-4 spoons.
Bake in 450 deg oven for 25 minutes
Voila!
This yielded a 10 inch pizza, so adjust for more people.
*The onion jam was the best part of the pizza and made my tiny kitchen smell great! Let's just say this will be made many many more times in the Fall, and possibly for quick impromptu get togethers.
Tuesday, October 10
Over-reacting
I went over the top in declaring that I thought they were laughing at me.
One of my close friends declared that the time I sent out the text is pure primetime at home, and that cell phones are a second thought. So she didn't get the text until this morning.
I swore I wasn't going to leave my house today, due to the rain. All I wanted to do was stay curled up on my couch underneath my big wooly throw and watch trash television or whatever movie HBO was spitting out. Then, I got a craving for a pizza recipe I saw over at Smitten Kitchen. Damn! these cooking blogs that I have fallen in love with and found over these last two months.
I had to go to the grocery.
Don't you hate when the place you need to get to, is no more than a 3 minute drive ( I would've walked but the rain) but all the roads are blocked! Grrr. I had to take the longest freaking drive to Wal-Mart Grocery because construction was at a halt and blocked off the roads.
All I needed was yeast.
I nearly snorted out buttercram frosting from my nose while watching Oprah.
I seriously think that Oprah needs to consider a reality show. I'd watch that. (Yep, Twisted, I would)
It's Day 7 on the Road Trip and Oprah has had enough. She had enough by day 2. Her words, not mine. This time she has gone crazy. The non-car singer is now singing, "In the Jungle" loudly and annoying Gayle. And she is eating junk food. Especially bright neon blue Slushies. You definitely know she has lost her mind when she starts eating like a cow.
Then in probably the best Oprah television moment: Someone dared called her a bitch.
YES.
Oprah then got ghetto.
YES. YES.
Ghetto Oprah is the best.
She was walking through a mall in Tulsa, Oklahoma and she didn't want to speak to anyone, so she was rushing along store to store.
I don't blame her. But come on. You're in a mall. In Tulsa.
From the moment, the word 'bitch' was uttered, Oprah turned on her Black Ghetto hat and was all hell to the no with attitude about it.
How will I ever be able to give this up?
Daytime television rocks.
One of my close friends declared that the time I sent out the text is pure primetime at home, and that cell phones are a second thought. So she didn't get the text until this morning.
I swore I wasn't going to leave my house today, due to the rain. All I wanted to do was stay curled up on my couch underneath my big wooly throw and watch trash television or whatever movie HBO was spitting out. Then, I got a craving for a pizza recipe I saw over at Smitten Kitchen. Damn! these cooking blogs that I have fallen in love with and found over these last two months.
I had to go to the grocery.
Don't you hate when the place you need to get to, is no more than a 3 minute drive ( I would've walked but the rain) but all the roads are blocked! Grrr. I had to take the longest freaking drive to Wal-Mart Grocery because construction was at a halt and blocked off the roads.
All I needed was yeast.
I nearly snorted out buttercram frosting from my nose while watching Oprah.
I seriously think that Oprah needs to consider a reality show. I'd watch that. (Yep, Twisted, I would)
It's Day 7 on the Road Trip and Oprah has had enough. She had enough by day 2. Her words, not mine. This time she has gone crazy. The non-car singer is now singing, "In the Jungle" loudly and annoying Gayle. And she is eating junk food. Especially bright neon blue Slushies. You definitely know she has lost her mind when she starts eating like a cow.
Then in probably the best Oprah television moment: Someone dared called her a bitch.
YES.
Oprah then got ghetto.
YES. YES.
Ghetto Oprah is the best.
She was walking through a mall in Tulsa, Oklahoma and she didn't want to speak to anyone, so she was rushing along store to store.
I don't blame her. But come on. You're in a mall. In Tulsa.
From the moment, the word 'bitch' was uttered, Oprah turned on her Black Ghetto hat and was all hell to the no with attitude about it.
How will I ever be able to give this up?
Daytime television rocks.
Maybe I'm Just Black and Nerdy
I'd rather plan a theme party than throw a keg in my apartment and call it a party. Rather than bar hopping, you can find me bookshelf browsing at Borders. I prefer a good brunch with friends over a happy hour jaunt. You can see me cupcaking over clubbing.
Does that make me a nerd?
Last night I was speaking with a friend (I'll leave her identity as anonymous to save her) and we got to discussing how we think that some of our friends are laughing behind our backs. Just because we like to enjoy the little things in life.
I made over two dozen chocolate cupcakes last night. You may remember that I don't even like chocolate, that much. I did it because I wanted to broaden my range. So, I tried out Billy's Chocolate Cupcake recipe; licked the spoon and bowl clean of batter and buttercream; decorated them and then sent out a mass text to all my local friends telling them to stop on by for a cupcake at any time.
Am I the only one in the world that responds to any communications directed towards me? I even reply back to forward joke e-mails; a simple 'ha ha' just to let the person know I got it and thought it was funny. Text me and I'll reply, no matter what. It may take awhile, but I'll do it. Why? Because you took the time to text me. I'm just so big on reciprocating communication it is unreal.
If you don't get a response from me; it means I never got it.
So, let's say I sent this text out at 6PM, last night.
It is now 9AM, the next morning.
Let's say I sent it out to at least ten people.
Not one reply. Not one.
Were they all busy?
I may be too paranoid in thought thinking that they are laughing behind my back.
"Cupcakes, again?"
"Will she ever stop?"
"I am so sick and tired of her and her damn cupcake making"
"Whatever"
Who can resist these?
Just for the record, I'm not mad or upset that no one replied back. Seriously. People are busy. It was around dinner time. I don't live that close to any one of my friends.
But still...a reply, last night would have been okay. I still cannot shake the feeling that the joke is definitely on me. Why?
Does that make me a nerd?
Last night I was speaking with a friend (I'll leave her identity as anonymous to save her) and we got to discussing how we think that some of our friends are laughing behind our backs. Just because we like to enjoy the little things in life.
I made over two dozen chocolate cupcakes last night. You may remember that I don't even like chocolate, that much. I did it because I wanted to broaden my range. So, I tried out Billy's Chocolate Cupcake recipe; licked the spoon and bowl clean of batter and buttercream; decorated them and then sent out a mass text to all my local friends telling them to stop on by for a cupcake at any time.
Am I the only one in the world that responds to any communications directed towards me? I even reply back to forward joke e-mails; a simple 'ha ha' just to let the person know I got it and thought it was funny. Text me and I'll reply, no matter what. It may take awhile, but I'll do it. Why? Because you took the time to text me. I'm just so big on reciprocating communication it is unreal.
If you don't get a response from me; it means I never got it.
So, let's say I sent this text out at 6PM, last night.
It is now 9AM, the next morning.
Let's say I sent it out to at least ten people.
Not one reply. Not one.
Were they all busy?
I may be too paranoid in thought thinking that they are laughing behind my back.
"Cupcakes, again?"
"Will she ever stop?"
"I am so sick and tired of her and her damn cupcake making"
"Whatever"
Who can resist these?
Just for the record, I'm not mad or upset that no one replied back. Seriously. People are busy. It was around dinner time. I don't live that close to any one of my friends.
But still...a reply, last night would have been okay. I still cannot shake the feeling that the joke is definitely on me. Why?
Monday, October 9
Fried Sooners
I love how at the State Fair you can get anything fried and served to you on a stick.
And that's all I'll say about the game...
Friday night I went to a house (apartment)party to kick off the rivalry weekend. It was great. It was also the first time I've seen Cupcake since all that drama. Cupcake was good, it was nice to see her. We're not buddy-buddies as we were before, but hey, I'm not going to salvage my relationship with other people in the group, just because she and I had some drama-drama-drama.
But this girl is so entertaining, I wish you all could have been there to witness, what I would call: Desperation & Needy.
She is that girl that pretends she is drunk for the attention.
She is that girl dangling on every guys arm, as bait.
She is that girl that begs all her friends, to follow said guys to the bar, because she feels that further her chances.
She is that girl that gets upset when the guys, who have been at the bar 20 minutes before we arrived, already have other girls on their arms.
She is that girl that texts/ calls everyone she knows, while at the loud, crowded bar. Why? ATTENTION.
She is that girl that cries when drunk because she is alone.
She is that girl that admitted to me the next day, that she needs a man.
She is that girl that was shocked that I'd rather watch the game than give boys my attention...seriously isn't that why we were at the bar? To watch the game?
I just cannot stand that certain type of girl that every time you are at the bar, is seen as Single Woman Walking. Last chance to ever find a man or something...do you know what I mean? Its a severe and sad case of neediness.
I have friends that if we are at the bar and there is not one prospect for them, they want to leave.
I have friends where if there will be no single people at the party, they don't even want to go.
What is up with that?
I'm sorry but I don't need a man in my life. I feel that if I have great friends; am successful; healthy; and know what I want in life---the guy will fit right into it, if not, c'est la vie.
But I have friends where they feel that if they have a man, all the rest will come and they will be happy, with a man.
How fucked up is that?
Forget your friends, forget life, forget having a good time.
It makes for an extremely not fun time for me to be around you, at the bar or a party. I'm going to have fun regardless of the single to married ratio. I'm going to enjoy it, even if all the guys at the bar are over forty and probably have a child.
Who cares? I came to enjoy a good time with you. Not to hook up. My occupation is not hoochie-mama and I am not on a man hunt.
It reeks desperation and neediness. There is no other stronger pheromone than that. Men smell it and go in for that easy kill.
Dunzo.
And then they wonder: why didn't he call me? why don't I have boyfriend? why aren't I married with kids?
It is sad, but very entertaining.
In other news, I think my Pei Wei on a Sunday afternoon, may be the hot spot. Again this Sunday, I had a craving and walked over for a rice bowl. Bill Fichtner opened the door for me and sat next to me while we waited for our orders. He is much shorter in person than I'd imagined, not that I ever think I'd run into him, but you know. And his wife, holy cow, she is drop dead gorgeous.
And that's all I'll say about the game...
Friday night I went to a house (apartment)party to kick off the rivalry weekend. It was great. It was also the first time I've seen Cupcake since all that drama. Cupcake was good, it was nice to see her. We're not buddy-buddies as we were before, but hey, I'm not going to salvage my relationship with other people in the group, just because she and I had some drama-drama-drama.
But this girl is so entertaining, I wish you all could have been there to witness, what I would call: Desperation & Needy.
She is that girl that pretends she is drunk for the attention.
She is that girl dangling on every guys arm, as bait.
She is that girl that begs all her friends, to follow said guys to the bar, because she feels that further her chances.
She is that girl that gets upset when the guys, who have been at the bar 20 minutes before we arrived, already have other girls on their arms.
She is that girl that texts/ calls everyone she knows, while at the loud, crowded bar. Why? ATTENTION.
She is that girl that cries when drunk because she is alone.
She is that girl that admitted to me the next day, that she needs a man.
She is that girl that was shocked that I'd rather watch the game than give boys my attention...seriously isn't that why we were at the bar? To watch the game?
I just cannot stand that certain type of girl that every time you are at the bar, is seen as Single Woman Walking. Last chance to ever find a man or something...do you know what I mean? Its a severe and sad case of neediness.
I have friends that if we are at the bar and there is not one prospect for them, they want to leave.
I have friends where if there will be no single people at the party, they don't even want to go.
What is up with that?
I'm sorry but I don't need a man in my life. I feel that if I have great friends; am successful; healthy; and know what I want in life---the guy will fit right into it, if not, c'est la vie.
But I have friends where they feel that if they have a man, all the rest will come and they will be happy, with a man.
How fucked up is that?
Forget your friends, forget life, forget having a good time.
It makes for an extremely not fun time for me to be around you, at the bar or a party. I'm going to have fun regardless of the single to married ratio. I'm going to enjoy it, even if all the guys at the bar are over forty and probably have a child.
Who cares? I came to enjoy a good time with you. Not to hook up. My occupation is not hoochie-mama and I am not on a man hunt.
It reeks desperation and neediness. There is no other stronger pheromone than that. Men smell it and go in for that easy kill.
Dunzo.
And then they wonder: why didn't he call me? why don't I have boyfriend? why aren't I married with kids?
It is sad, but very entertaining.
In other news, I think my Pei Wei on a Sunday afternoon, may be the hot spot. Again this Sunday, I had a craving and walked over for a rice bowl. Bill Fichtner opened the door for me and sat next to me while we waited for our orders. He is much shorter in person than I'd imagined, not that I ever think I'd run into him, but you know. And his wife, holy cow, she is drop dead gorgeous.
Friday, October 6
So...
My brain hurts. I'm stressed out. I cannot make big decisions without analyzing each scenario to death.
It's not that Job A* is better than Job B, per se. I think this would happen with any job offered to me.
How can I say this: I got lazy during these past 2 months. And a wee bit scared.
I believe that I grew so accustomed and comfortable with staying at home and having all this time to me. I did some soul searching; learned how to truly be alone; fixed up my apartment; tried out some great recipes; and traveled. It's been an extended vacation, to say the least.
And I'm scared to leave and go back into the working world. Let's face it, the last time I was out there: my personality, skills, work, and talent were chewed up and spat out like garbage. Will I succeed or fail, again?
That is what scares me the most.
I've had the success with past jobs. Then took something that I was so excited to have and my energy for it was through the roof (the perks, alone, had me glowing with glee) and they didn't like me. Or approve of me.
It hurt. It was like a break up.
And like any break up, you need to mourn it, in order to move on. That's where I have been the past two months mourning the Law Firm. Am I ready to get back out there?
And have myself vulnerable, again? Am I ready for a new relationship? Even though it doesn't look or come packaged up like what I'm dreaming of...but hey, what does?
I can take it and make the most of it. Yes, if another comes along, I can quit it. Or break up with it.
It seems like all of life is like this. Just relationship after relationship. Break-up after break up. Until you find your One. Happiness.
*I still have yet to make a decision, but thank you so much for all your advice, XOXOs to all of you!
It's not that Job A* is better than Job B, per se. I think this would happen with any job offered to me.
How can I say this: I got lazy during these past 2 months. And a wee bit scared.
I believe that I grew so accustomed and comfortable with staying at home and having all this time to me. I did some soul searching; learned how to truly be alone; fixed up my apartment; tried out some great recipes; and traveled. It's been an extended vacation, to say the least.
And I'm scared to leave and go back into the working world. Let's face it, the last time I was out there: my personality, skills, work, and talent were chewed up and spat out like garbage. Will I succeed or fail, again?
That is what scares me the most.
I've had the success with past jobs. Then took something that I was so excited to have and my energy for it was through the roof (the perks, alone, had me glowing with glee) and they didn't like me. Or approve of me.
It hurt. It was like a break up.
And like any break up, you need to mourn it, in order to move on. That's where I have been the past two months mourning the Law Firm. Am I ready to get back out there?
And have myself vulnerable, again? Am I ready for a new relationship? Even though it doesn't look or come packaged up like what I'm dreaming of...but hey, what does?
I can take it and make the most of it. Yes, if another comes along, I can quit it. Or break up with it.
It seems like all of life is like this. Just relationship after relationship. Break-up after break up. Until you find your One. Happiness.
*I still have yet to make a decision, but thank you so much for all your advice, XOXOs to all of you!
Wednesday, October 4
It's Poll Time (Cause I Need HELP)
I'm just going to give it to y'all straight.
I had a 2nd interview with Job A. It went fantastic. The hiring manager emailed me later the next day for my references. Since my references are in the loop. Two of them have called me, already, exclaiming that Job A called and glowing recommendations were given.
The hiring manager says she will have made a decision by tomorrow.
Problems?
The pay. It's not shabby. It's not what I made at the Law Firm nor is it what I made before the Law Firm. It's about a $2500 decrease in what I am used to. I know that may not be a lot. BUT here is the kicker I am seeing other positions listed, with less job responsibility and making more pay. One of my friends used to be shocked that I made so little doing what I did at the Law Firm.
Obviously since I am in the unemployment situation, any job that pays should be good news. But I like nice things, like rent, and brunches, and clothes, and vacations...because that's the other problem with Job A.
No vacay until I have been with them for a year! And it's a temp to hire position.
So you have the facts on Job A.
Now...Job B. (see, I ain't just watching The View over here)
Job B is at Nonprofit. I already interviewed with them, last month, and was told by my contact (I know how to be in the know--hee) that it was a tough decision and they loved me but went with other candidate. Nonprofit has the best benefits I have ever heard in my life.
Just this morning, I happened upon a different job opening with Nonprofit. This one is more in my field than the first one with Nonprofit and the qualifications are like reading my resume. Fo'real. Job B would also make more sense as the next position listed on my resume. My contact there, told me that if I ever saw anything I liked to email her STAT and she'd do what she could. Obviously, she has no hiring power, just referral. So, I emailed her. She sent over my resume to that hiring manager...
Something, something is telling me something, something. What that is, I don't know.
But I do know that I don't want to be stuck in a new position and dislike it or wonder about other opportunities that I'd feel more excited about...
Not that I'm not excited by Job A, but am more excited by Nonprofit as a whole.
What do I do?
Let's not forget, mama needs a job. Because I have rent, bills, and no incoming income.
The question really is: Do I wait it out, not take a job offered because of gut?
I had a 2nd interview with Job A. It went fantastic. The hiring manager emailed me later the next day for my references. Since my references are in the loop. Two of them have called me, already, exclaiming that Job A called and glowing recommendations were given.
The hiring manager says she will have made a decision by tomorrow.
Problems?
The pay. It's not shabby. It's not what I made at the Law Firm nor is it what I made before the Law Firm. It's about a $2500 decrease in what I am used to. I know that may not be a lot. BUT here is the kicker I am seeing other positions listed, with less job responsibility and making more pay. One of my friends used to be shocked that I made so little doing what I did at the Law Firm.
Obviously since I am in the unemployment situation, any job that pays should be good news. But I like nice things, like rent, and brunches, and clothes, and vacations...because that's the other problem with Job A.
No vacay until I have been with them for a year! And it's a temp to hire position.
So you have the facts on Job A.
Now...Job B. (see, I ain't just watching The View over here)
Job B is at Nonprofit. I already interviewed with them, last month, and was told by my contact (I know how to be in the know--hee) that it was a tough decision and they loved me but went with other candidate. Nonprofit has the best benefits I have ever heard in my life.
Just this morning, I happened upon a different job opening with Nonprofit. This one is more in my field than the first one with Nonprofit and the qualifications are like reading my resume. Fo'real. Job B would also make more sense as the next position listed on my resume. My contact there, told me that if I ever saw anything I liked to email her STAT and she'd do what she could. Obviously, she has no hiring power, just referral. So, I emailed her. She sent over my resume to that hiring manager...
Something, something is telling me something, something. What that is, I don't know.
But I do know that I don't want to be stuck in a new position and dislike it or wonder about other opportunities that I'd feel more excited about...
Not that I'm not excited by Job A, but am more excited by Nonprofit as a whole.
What do I do?
Let's not forget, mama needs a job. Because I have rent, bills, and no incoming income.
The question really is: Do I wait it out, not take a job offered because of gut?
Unashamed Confession
I now own 4 leggings and I never want this trend to end.
No, she di'int.
Yes. I did.
When this trend first made its creepy way back into fashion. I cackled at all who speedraced to store for a pair. Leggings? Come, on. That is so 1986.
Then like all other trends, I saw them everywhere. Like all things you see everywhere, they either grow on you or you have a strange tick every time you see it.
The leggings grew on me.
I went, hmm...
All it took was for Target to sell a pair and I was golden. $3 leggings. I'll take it. The first time I wore them, it was like a leg miracle.
I should tell you, I love anything with lycra in it.
The leggings made my Beyonce thighs looks sleek and (gasp) toned.
They sucked in the flab that jiggles when I am in shorts.
How could I hate this?
Then I started seeing some really cute outfits that included leggings. And they were not on 15 year old girls, thank you very much. Grown ass women were incorporating them into their outfits.
Grown ass women!
I upgraded to a pair from Express. Oh, I heart that pair. They are thick and hit below my knee...and yeah, LYCRA.
I cannot wait for serious Fall weather. Instead of tights I'm wearing leggings with all my boots and skirt combinations. If for anything, the look of appearing 10 pounds lighter.
Maybe I should try the Spanx, next?
Besides that aspect, I think they are kind of cute and accept the challenge to incorporate a pair into a hot outfit. I'm doodling the idea of patterned leggings, hmm? I remember our once Fashionista Carrie donned a pair in an episode.
and I cannot believe hbo.com still has everything Sex and the City still up on its site. It's kind of a bummer. Seeing what was and used to be. Boo.
Anyways, I will be terribly sad if tomorrow someone at Vogue decides that leggings are out.
No, she di'int.
Yes. I did.
When this trend first made its creepy way back into fashion. I cackled at all who speedraced to store for a pair. Leggings? Come, on. That is so 1986.
Then like all other trends, I saw them everywhere. Like all things you see everywhere, they either grow on you or you have a strange tick every time you see it.
The leggings grew on me.
I went, hmm...
All it took was for Target to sell a pair and I was golden. $3 leggings. I'll take it. The first time I wore them, it was like a leg miracle.
I should tell you, I love anything with lycra in it.
The leggings made my Beyonce thighs looks sleek and (gasp) toned.
They sucked in the flab that jiggles when I am in shorts.
How could I hate this?
Then I started seeing some really cute outfits that included leggings. And they were not on 15 year old girls, thank you very much. Grown ass women were incorporating them into their outfits.
Grown ass women!
I upgraded to a pair from Express. Oh, I heart that pair. They are thick and hit below my knee...and yeah, LYCRA.
I cannot wait for serious Fall weather. Instead of tights I'm wearing leggings with all my boots and skirt combinations. If for anything, the look of appearing 10 pounds lighter.
Maybe I should try the Spanx, next?
Besides that aspect, I think they are kind of cute and accept the challenge to incorporate a pair into a hot outfit. I'm doodling the idea of patterned leggings, hmm? I remember our once Fashionista Carrie donned a pair in an episode.
and I cannot believe hbo.com still has everything Sex and the City still up on its site. It's kind of a bummer. Seeing what was and used to be. Boo.
Anyways, I will be terribly sad if tomorrow someone at Vogue decides that leggings are out.
Tuesday, October 3
She's Baaaack!
THIS is the best television recap of any show ever.
Yes, it's the Bachelor.
Yes, you won't get the jokes unless you tune into the Bachelor.
She is funnier than that other recap site and tells it like it is.
I think I am more into the Bachelor series because of her recaps.
You don't watch The Bachelor?
2 words: Prince. Italy.
Okay, maybe, three words: Lincee.
I guarantee you will be laughing your asses off.
Yes, it's the Bachelor.
Yes, you won't get the jokes unless you tune into the Bachelor.
She is funnier than that other recap site and tells it like it is.
I think I am more into the Bachelor series because of her recaps.
You don't watch The Bachelor?
2 words: Prince. Italy.
Okay, maybe, three words: Lincee.
I guarantee you will be laughing your asses off.
Interestinger
I just had the longest and most boring interview, ever. It was two and half hours long. I think I spoke for about fifteen of those minutes. All I could think about it how not interested I was in the sales position and how much longer did I need to sit there? It was beyond painful. I completely blacked out and was fantasizing about the job that I really do want...
How do you survive long interviews? And interviews where you clearly realize this is not the place for you?
I started running vigorously, again. Each muscle in my body is screaming in pain. They say your muscles remember and can bounce back quickly, after not exercising for awhile. I say, 'not!'. These puppies aren't remembering a darned thing. And the rest of my bread loaf is not helping. It is that good.
--oh, and I made carbonara last night. I just cannot catch a break.
And I am beginning to think that I do a lot better staying at home than I do working. Seriously. I am beginning to get good at this. Not that I want to be doing it, at all. But there is something to be said about a non crowded grocery store in the middle of the day, endless internet consumption, running whenever I feel like it, the talk shows, the noises and sounds of your apartment complex in the middle of the day, and rearranging/organizing your closet ten times a week.
Hotlanta has started to become a wee bit more possessive. More emails,'Where you be?' text messages, and the 'Talk' almost every other night. It is almost unbearable. Each time I tell him of a time I went out, he always replies with "Who did you go out with? Was it a date?"
ANNOYING.
but still adorable, in its own way.
And Oprah is making up words now. Uhm hmm. Yesterday was a good laugh out loud Oprah. At one point I thought it was Jerry Springer I was watching. Lesbian woman married to a man, who also turned out to be gay. It was a big to-do!
And the Lesbian could not have been funnier. She kept calling Oprah, "Girl" and the way she told the story was in fact the way I imagine I would be speaking if I was Oprah. Cracking jokes, here and there. Making funny odd ball faces. Which made me laugh out loud is whenever a new bomb was dropped in the story, Oprah would shout out: Interestinger!
Hope one of y'all caught it because it was hilarious. Not more so than the Road Trip installments, but out loud funny.
How do you survive long interviews? And interviews where you clearly realize this is not the place for you?
I started running vigorously, again. Each muscle in my body is screaming in pain. They say your muscles remember and can bounce back quickly, after not exercising for awhile. I say, 'not!'. These puppies aren't remembering a darned thing. And the rest of my bread loaf is not helping. It is that good.
--oh, and I made carbonara last night. I just cannot catch a break.
And I am beginning to think that I do a lot better staying at home than I do working. Seriously. I am beginning to get good at this. Not that I want to be doing it, at all. But there is something to be said about a non crowded grocery store in the middle of the day, endless internet consumption, running whenever I feel like it, the talk shows, the noises and sounds of your apartment complex in the middle of the day, and rearranging/organizing your closet ten times a week.
Hotlanta has started to become a wee bit more possessive. More emails,'Where you be?' text messages, and the 'Talk' almost every other night. It is almost unbearable. Each time I tell him of a time I went out, he always replies with "Who did you go out with? Was it a date?"
ANNOYING.
but still adorable, in its own way.
And Oprah is making up words now. Uhm hmm. Yesterday was a good laugh out loud Oprah. At one point I thought it was Jerry Springer I was watching. Lesbian woman married to a man, who also turned out to be gay. It was a big to-do!
And the Lesbian could not have been funnier. She kept calling Oprah, "Girl" and the way she told the story was in fact the way I imagine I would be speaking if I was Oprah. Cracking jokes, here and there. Making funny odd ball faces. Which made me laugh out loud is whenever a new bomb was dropped in the story, Oprah would shout out: Interestinger!
Hope one of y'all caught it because it was hilarious. Not more so than the Road Trip installments, but out loud funny.
Monday, October 2
It Smells Like Home to Me
Sunday I decided to make fresh homemade bread. I never made bread from scratch before and found this over at Smitten's kitchen.
My apartment is pretty small, so the aroma filled every room and it still lingers. It smells like what I imagine my home to smell like.
Not that I wouldn't call my apartment 'home'...but more along the lines of when I have kids running around and a husband this is what I imagine my home to smell like. Fresh bread out of the oven.
I drizzled mine with EVOO--extra virgin olive oil. (half the loaf is gone already, so there'll be plenty of running this week. As when I told my mom of my baking adventure, she told me to throw it out because bread is the hip's devil)
Let it be noted, I doubt I'll have this much time to bake with kids and a husband.
White Batter Bread
From the ICE’s Techniques of Bread Baking 1
2 cups warm milk, about 110 degrees
2 ½ teaspoons (1 envelope; some argue it’s actually 2 ¼ tsp. If you have more time, use the lesser amount) active dry yeast
4 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted or vegetable oil
1. Whisk yeast into warm milk and set aside while preparing other ingredients. (About 5 minutes does the trick.)
2. Whisk yeast into salt, sugar and butter.
3. Beat in flour to make a smooth batter, you’ll want to do this for a few minutes.
4. Pour into buttered loaf pan and let rise, covered with a towel or plastic, until doubled.
5. When it’s almost doubled, preheat the oven to 400 degrees and set a rack at the middle level.
6. When it’s completely risen, place in oven and bake about 30 minutes, until it’s golden brown and firm, and the internal temperature is about 210 degrees.
7. Unmold the loaf and let it cool completely on a rack.
My apartment is pretty small, so the aroma filled every room and it still lingers. It smells like what I imagine my home to smell like.
Not that I wouldn't call my apartment 'home'...but more along the lines of when I have kids running around and a husband this is what I imagine my home to smell like. Fresh bread out of the oven.
I drizzled mine with EVOO--extra virgin olive oil. (half the loaf is gone already, so there'll be plenty of running this week. As when I told my mom of my baking adventure, she told me to throw it out because bread is the hip's devil)
Let it be noted, I doubt I'll have this much time to bake with kids and a husband.
White Batter Bread
From the ICE’s Techniques of Bread Baking 1
2 cups warm milk, about 110 degrees
2 ½ teaspoons (1 envelope; some argue it’s actually 2 ¼ tsp. If you have more time, use the lesser amount) active dry yeast
4 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted or vegetable oil
1. Whisk yeast into warm milk and set aside while preparing other ingredients. (About 5 minutes does the trick.)
2. Whisk yeast into salt, sugar and butter.
3. Beat in flour to make a smooth batter, you’ll want to do this for a few minutes.
4. Pour into buttered loaf pan and let rise, covered with a towel or plastic, until doubled.
5. When it’s almost doubled, preheat the oven to 400 degrees and set a rack at the middle level.
6. When it’s completely risen, place in oven and bake about 30 minutes, until it’s golden brown and firm, and the internal temperature is about 210 degrees.
7. Unmold the loaf and let it cool completely on a rack.
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