There's this guy I had a major crush on when I was in middle school - Judd Morgan. I just got an email saying he's following me on StumbleUpon. I don't know what that means - no really, I don't - but I felt a little flattered. And concerned. See, here's the memory that I relive every time I see Judd's name show up on my Facebook feed:
He was beautiful; olive skin, dark hair and eyes, an easy smile. He was smart. And he was kind. I was the girl you probably shouldn't be found talking to in school, but somehow, I'd gotten his number, and when he answered the phone and learned it was me on the other end, he kept talking. That was cool.
I don't know how long the conversation lasted - I was in the junk room at the back of the house, hanging out in the basement stairwell, the only place in the house where I could guarantee my Momma wouldn't overhear my phone conversation while she cooked dinner. Judd had been talking to me for a while - I fancied myself one of those chicks who guys could talk to. I figured it was good timing -
"Judd, will you be my boyfriend?"
He was kind when he turned me down. He didn't make fun of me. He didn't hang up. But he didn't say yes, either.
I decided to deploy a tactic I'd used on my Momma for years - begging. I could beg Momma into anything, why would this boy, this object of my affection, be any different? Oh, but he was. I pleaded and I begged, but he didn't budge. He wasn't going to be my boyfriend. He wasn't going to be cruel to me, either. He didn't hang up, he didn't laugh, he wasn't mean. But here's the real kicker: To the best of my knowledge, Judd never told another soul about my shamelessness. And thank God for that - I can only imagine how much worse things would've gotten. Middle school taught me nothing beyond the cruelty of humanity and love of the word "fuck".
So thanks, Judd, for following me on Stumble, and thanks for reminding me that I also owe you thanks for being nice to me when you could've so easily been mean.
I said my realization also brought a wave of concern, and that's true - what if he's only following me, only friended me on Facebook, because he secretly laughs at me all the time and wants to see just how much of a trainwreck I really am?!
Gee, I hope I don't disappoint. :)
Showing posts with label Shameless Begging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shameless Begging. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2011
Winning!
Did you enter my giveaway? You did?! YAY!
You Won!!!
So, to claim your prize, you need to email me your address. Nattums at gmail dot com.
There's a surprise, too. I'm not going to tell you what you won. You probably know already anyhow. But you're probably going to get an extra prize too.
Aren't giveaways fun?!
Oh, and if you didn't enter, but you email me your address anyhow, I'll probably mail you something. (Not to make you giveaway winners feel slighted or anything, but there's a lot of stuff left over. I really don't want to put it in my basement again. You get it, right?)
Make it happen, people. Jimi's getting tired of the shit taking over the living room, and Finn is trying to make all of it his toys. (All of it except #13. He hates #13.)
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Here's what I've been doing.
I don't have anything good to write about, so I'll just write about all of it.
The sun came out on Thursday and it made everything better.
Jimi and I met up with a friend for dinner that night - we tried a new-to-us place that we've for years heard our friends rave about. I was less than impressed. First, I strongly believe that the chips and salsa portion of a Mexican meal is a vital component, and shitty chips or bad salsa can ruin the entire experience. There's a delicious, authentic Mexican joint up the street from my office - Jimi and Steve love the place, but I refuse to eat there. Why? They have shitty chips; they serve those round yellow corn stale salty discs that are at the peak of their taste-ability when coated with that gross yellow nacho cheese you can find at any high-school sporting event concession stand. They have their place, I suppose, but it ain't on my table when I'm looking for chips and salsa while waiting for my enchilada and refried beans. I insist on homemade, warm, barely-salted, triangle-shaped tortillas. And homemade salsa, preferably the consistency of crushed tomatoes with no big chunks of anything. And if you make me pay $2 for chips and salsa, and then present me with those bullshit round yellow discs, I will say bad things about you to all of my friends, El Mundo.
(Then again, I didn't spot a single Hispanic working at the place. When it comes to Mexican food, this is a bad omen.)
To be fair, the entrees were pretty good. The enchiladas were different from any enchilada I've had before, but they weren't bad. And the beans weren't refried, but rather black beans cooked with some sort of meatfat and spices - they were probably the best part of the meal.
Friday was Administrative Professionals Day, and after being reminded by a customer that he has a pretty awesome office staff, our boss took Kimmie and I to the Cheesecake Factory for a long lunch that left us all feeling fat and near-comatose. Why on Earth did we think it'd be a good idea to order pasta and follow it up with a huge hunk of rich cheesecake? (Probably because we thought it'd be delicious, which it was.) We suffered for hours afterward, though. Too many foods.
After work, I met Kimmie and Alicia and Dot over at Kimmie's and we cackled like hens for hours under the guise of getting together to watch the Royal Wedding on the DVR, but the wedding was mostly forgotten until it was getting late. We fast-forwarded through the three and a half hours of footage, stopping for the highlights, like the crazy hats and every scene featuring the new Princess's sister's ass...because we'd heard tale of how someone's boyfriend was being a complete cockbag and stated Pippa's ass was big. (Seriously? What lens are you using, dude? I think it's broken.)
Jimi and I got up early today to check out a "HUGE 4-family Yard Sale/Estate Sale" that turned out to be a half a driveway worth of wicker furniture, old shoes, old purses, and a $50 framed picture of George Costanza in his underwear.
Then we drove around for an hour in search of a breakfast place that would please my discriminating palate without forcing me to wait in a lobby full of old people and screaming children for 15-20 minutes. At 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. In the East End of Louisville. (In other words, yeah fucking right.) We finally settled on Wendy's because it was there and their breakfast is pretty damned good and because if I didn't eat NOW I was probably going to morph any second into a crazyhungry version of Medusa with hungry snakes popping out of my head. Jimi turned into the parking lot just in the knick of time, and I'm pretty sure he knew it.
After breakfast we ventured to Lowe's so I could pick up one of those manual stick-tiller things so I could get the flower beds in front of the porch ready for planting. Not that I have a plan of any sort, but Kimmie gave me a bunch of lamb's ear and it had to be in the ground before the end of the day today so I had to do something. In addition to the tiller, we picked up a few bags of shit (I mean, manure/compost/dirt), a rose bush (!!!), a couple of lilies, and two orchids that were on clearance and told me they NEEDED to come home with me. (Of course I couldn't deny their request.)
The tiller thing was awesome until I was like a third of the way through the first bed and realized I was growing a nickel-sized blister in the middle of the pad of my left palm. I decided to ignore it, and managed to do so quite well - I got one entire bed dug out, the rose bush planted and I was trucking right along. I was well into the planting of the lamb's ear - I looked down at my right palm and realized the much-smaller blister there had burst and there was dirt caked all up underneath the flap of skin that hung there. And it hurt.
I'm a big ol' wuss, so I dug a big hole in the corner of the bed and planted the hunk of lamb's ear that was left, figuring I can always move it later. I was done with gardening, at least for the day. I put away my things and called it a day.
The rest of my day has been spent playing Sims 3 and watching Extreme Couponing. Not bad for a Saturday.
I really need you to go enter my giveaway. I need to send you some of these things and some of this stuff. Just do it.
What was your favorite part about this week? Did you have a turning point - like the sun coming out? Are you and your families safe after the horribly scary weather of the last week?
Happy Weekend! I hope the sun is shining wherever you are.
The sun came out on Thursday and it made everything better.
Jimi and I met up with a friend for dinner that night - we tried a new-to-us place that we've for years heard our friends rave about. I was less than impressed. First, I strongly believe that the chips and salsa portion of a Mexican meal is a vital component, and shitty chips or bad salsa can ruin the entire experience. There's a delicious, authentic Mexican joint up the street from my office - Jimi and Steve love the place, but I refuse to eat there. Why? They have shitty chips; they serve those round yellow corn stale salty discs that are at the peak of their taste-ability when coated with that gross yellow nacho cheese you can find at any high-school sporting event concession stand. They have their place, I suppose, but it ain't on my table when I'm looking for chips and salsa while waiting for my enchilada and refried beans. I insist on homemade, warm, barely-salted, triangle-shaped tortillas. And homemade salsa, preferably the consistency of crushed tomatoes with no big chunks of anything. And if you make me pay $2 for chips and salsa, and then present me with those bullshit round yellow discs, I will say bad things about you to all of my friends, El Mundo.
(Then again, I didn't spot a single Hispanic working at the place. When it comes to Mexican food, this is a bad omen.)
To be fair, the entrees were pretty good. The enchiladas were different from any enchilada I've had before, but they weren't bad. And the beans weren't refried, but rather black beans cooked with some sort of meatfat and spices - they were probably the best part of the meal.
Friday was Administrative Professionals Day, and after being reminded by a customer that he has a pretty awesome office staff, our boss took Kimmie and I to the Cheesecake Factory for a long lunch that left us all feeling fat and near-comatose. Why on Earth did we think it'd be a good idea to order pasta and follow it up with a huge hunk of rich cheesecake? (Probably because we thought it'd be delicious, which it was.) We suffered for hours afterward, though. Too many foods.
After work, I met Kimmie and Alicia and Dot over at Kimmie's and we cackled like hens for hours under the guise of getting together to watch the Royal Wedding on the DVR, but the wedding was mostly forgotten until it was getting late. We fast-forwarded through the three and a half hours of footage, stopping for the highlights, like the crazy hats and every scene featuring the new Princess's sister's ass...because we'd heard tale of how someone's boyfriend was being a complete cockbag and stated Pippa's ass was big. (Seriously? What lens are you using, dude? I think it's broken.)
Jimi and I got up early today to check out a "HUGE 4-family Yard Sale/Estate Sale" that turned out to be a half a driveway worth of wicker furniture, old shoes, old purses, and a $50 framed picture of George Costanza in his underwear.
Then we drove around for an hour in search of a breakfast place that would please my discriminating palate without forcing me to wait in a lobby full of old people and screaming children for 15-20 minutes. At 10 o'clock on a Saturday morning. In the East End of Louisville. (In other words, yeah fucking right.) We finally settled on Wendy's because it was there and their breakfast is pretty damned good and because if I didn't eat NOW I was probably going to morph any second into a crazyhungry version of Medusa with hungry snakes popping out of my head. Jimi turned into the parking lot just in the knick of time, and I'm pretty sure he knew it.
After breakfast we ventured to Lowe's so I could pick up one of those manual stick-tiller things so I could get the flower beds in front of the porch ready for planting. Not that I have a plan of any sort, but Kimmie gave me a bunch of lamb's ear and it had to be in the ground before the end of the day today so I had to do something. In addition to the tiller, we picked up a few bags of shit (I mean, manure/compost/dirt), a rose bush (!!!), a couple of lilies, and two orchids that were on clearance and told me they NEEDED to come home with me. (Of course I couldn't deny their request.)
The tiller thing was awesome until I was like a third of the way through the first bed and realized I was growing a nickel-sized blister in the middle of the pad of my left palm. I decided to ignore it, and managed to do so quite well - I got one entire bed dug out, the rose bush planted and I was trucking right along. I was well into the planting of the lamb's ear - I looked down at my right palm and realized the much-smaller blister there had burst and there was dirt caked all up underneath the flap of skin that hung there. And it hurt.
I'm a big ol' wuss, so I dug a big hole in the corner of the bed and planted the hunk of lamb's ear that was left, figuring I can always move it later. I was done with gardening, at least for the day. I put away my things and called it a day.
The rest of my day has been spent playing Sims 3 and watching Extreme Couponing. Not bad for a Saturday.
I really need you to go enter my giveaway. I need to send you some of these things and some of this stuff. Just do it.
What was your favorite part about this week? Did you have a turning point - like the sun coming out? Are you and your families safe after the horribly scary weather of the last week?
Happy Weekend! I hope the sun is shining wherever you are.
Enter my Giveaway - please?
C'mon, guys. Please don't make me put this stuff back in my basement. You need some new-to-you things, right? And some more stuff?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Okay, now that I've found 100 things...
Today, a week and a day after my 31st birthday, I'm finally getting my cake and ice cream. I've requested my favorite, strawberry cake with fun-fetti icing and vanilla ice cream. (Very grown up, Momma says.) For my 13th birthday, my Momma made me a strawberry cake and decorated it to look like a pink boom box. My friend James made me a strawberry cake and decorated it with tiaras and princess castles last year. Strawberry cake really is my favorite.
Momma asked me if I had any input on what I'd like for dinner. The only thing I could come up with was grilled asparagus.
31 feels like a turning point, a crossroads. Like I'm going through some sort of awkward phase, a growth spurt. Maybe I am. Maybe I'll come out on the other side, 32 and a full-fledged adult. One who does a load of laundry every night instead of letting it pile up for two and a half weeks and then only breaking down and sorting and washing because clean panties are nowhere to be found. One who immediately does the dinner dishes when the meal is finished. One who vacuums and dusts every Sunday.
I'm not saying it's likely, just that it COULD happen. You know, miracles happen every day.
31 does feel weird, though. Not old, I'd never dare use that word in relation to that number. Wiser? More aware? More appreciative? Something.
So far, though, aside from feeling a little odd, 31 is pretty cool. I'm happy, healthy, loved. I've got a job and a home and a car that just rolled over 70K miles Friday night.
That's pretty cool, actually. My little Honda Civic, the one I bought all by myself with my very own credit in September of 2004, the one I didn't need my (ex)husband's income to qualify for, the one I drove from Nebraska to El Paso and then back home to good ol' Kentucky, has just rolled over 70,000 miles. I can probably get 70,000 miles out of this car three more times before it shits the bed and has to be replaced. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, buying that car was probably the most sound financial one. (Well, as long as you don't take into consideration the fact that my OLD Civic was paid off and in good shape and had only 145,000 miles on it and probably could've been driven (for free) for another 150,000 without much more than basic preventative maintenance. But whatever.)
I'm so glad the sun is out today - the weekend's been kind of a bust and the sun makes everything seem happier, doesn't it? Yesterday was Thunder Over Louisville - a huge air show and fireworks display that kicks off the official Kentucky Derby Festival festivities. Every year, my boss gets us tickets to the Bats (local AAA baseball team) game, and we hang out together all day and watch the game, watch the air show, watch the rednecks, watch the fireworks. And drink beer and booze we smuggled in and eat fried foods and complain about the heat or the cold or the sun or the clouds. Yesterday, though, the weather sucked. It was cold and windy and drizzling and gray. Everyone backed out, and then I did too. I think the only tickets that were used belonged to C and her family - so 5 out of 20? That sucks. I'm going to have to offer to reimburse the company for the four I requested and didn't use. Suck.
Did you know Haagen Dazs makes Sweet Chai Latte ice cream? Holy shit, it's to die for. Go get some now. I'll wait. Delicious, right? I told you. Haagen Dazs just has it like that, though. They make everything delicious. I'll never forget the night Kat and I got that banana split from their store in the Crystal City Mall in D.C. - cherry vanilla ice cream, a banana, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts. God, my mouth is watering just remembering it. We drove around the Ft. Belvoir area for much longer than we should've, running in and out of Targets and Food Lions, darting to their frozen foods sections in search of that never-before-heard-of-but-now-must-have-it flavor - Cherry Vanilla. No one carried it. No one had it. We gave up and hung our heads and stopped at the gas station to fill up her car and get some snacks. Guess who had Haagen Dazs Cherry Vanilla ice cream? That's right, the gas station did. Grocery stores didn't, but the gas station did. For years after that, I felt as if I had to buy 2 pints every time I found the flavor in stores - it was like a rare gem! I'm kinda over it now, though. Maybe it's guilt by association. But this sweet chai latte is delish.
Jimi's going to take me to "breakfast" (it's noon already), and then we'll go find some fun until it's time to head to Momma & Daddy's for my birthday dinner. It's kinda like "Natalie's 31st Birthday, take 2". That's what I'm doing today. What are your plans? May I make some suggestions? First, go enter my giveaway. I'll mail you some shit from my house. Fun, right? Then, go join in on the Comment Love Day over at FTLOB. Everyone loves comments.
Momma asked me if I had any input on what I'd like for dinner. The only thing I could come up with was grilled asparagus.
31 feels like a turning point, a crossroads. Like I'm going through some sort of awkward phase, a growth spurt. Maybe I am. Maybe I'll come out on the other side, 32 and a full-fledged adult. One who does a load of laundry every night instead of letting it pile up for two and a half weeks and then only breaking down and sorting and washing because clean panties are nowhere to be found. One who immediately does the dinner dishes when the meal is finished. One who vacuums and dusts every Sunday.
I'm not saying it's likely, just that it COULD happen. You know, miracles happen every day.
31 does feel weird, though. Not old, I'd never dare use that word in relation to that number. Wiser? More aware? More appreciative? Something.
So far, though, aside from feeling a little odd, 31 is pretty cool. I'm happy, healthy, loved. I've got a job and a home and a car that just rolled over 70K miles Friday night.
That's pretty cool, actually. My little Honda Civic, the one I bought all by myself with my very own credit in September of 2004, the one I didn't need my (ex)husband's income to qualify for, the one I drove from Nebraska to El Paso and then back home to good ol' Kentucky, has just rolled over 70,000 miles. I can probably get 70,000 miles out of this car three more times before it shits the bed and has to be replaced. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, buying that car was probably the most sound financial one. (Well, as long as you don't take into consideration the fact that my OLD Civic was paid off and in good shape and had only 145,000 miles on it and probably could've been driven (for free) for another 150,000 without much more than basic preventative maintenance. But whatever.)
I'm so glad the sun is out today - the weekend's been kind of a bust and the sun makes everything seem happier, doesn't it? Yesterday was Thunder Over Louisville - a huge air show and fireworks display that kicks off the official Kentucky Derby Festival festivities. Every year, my boss gets us tickets to the Bats (local AAA baseball team) game, and we hang out together all day and watch the game, watch the air show, watch the rednecks, watch the fireworks. And drink beer and booze we smuggled in and eat fried foods and complain about the heat or the cold or the sun or the clouds. Yesterday, though, the weather sucked. It was cold and windy and drizzling and gray. Everyone backed out, and then I did too. I think the only tickets that were used belonged to C and her family - so 5 out of 20? That sucks. I'm going to have to offer to reimburse the company for the four I requested and didn't use. Suck.
Did you know Haagen Dazs makes Sweet Chai Latte ice cream? Holy shit, it's to die for. Go get some now. I'll wait. Delicious, right? I told you. Haagen Dazs just has it like that, though. They make everything delicious. I'll never forget the night Kat and I got that banana split from their store in the Crystal City Mall in D.C. - cherry vanilla ice cream, a banana, strawberry sauce, whipped cream, nuts. God, my mouth is watering just remembering it. We drove around the Ft. Belvoir area for much longer than we should've, running in and out of Targets and Food Lions, darting to their frozen foods sections in search of that never-before-heard-of-but-now-must-have-it flavor - Cherry Vanilla. No one carried it. No one had it. We gave up and hung our heads and stopped at the gas station to fill up her car and get some snacks. Guess who had Haagen Dazs Cherry Vanilla ice cream? That's right, the gas station did. Grocery stores didn't, but the gas station did. For years after that, I felt as if I had to buy 2 pints every time I found the flavor in stores - it was like a rare gem! I'm kinda over it now, though. Maybe it's guilt by association. But this sweet chai latte is delish.
Jimi's going to take me to "breakfast" (it's noon already), and then we'll go find some fun until it's time to head to Momma & Daddy's for my birthday dinner. It's kinda like "Natalie's 31st Birthday, take 2". That's what I'm doing today. What are your plans? May I make some suggestions? First, go enter my giveaway. I'll mail you some shit from my house. Fun, right? Then, go join in on the Comment Love Day over at FTLOB. Everyone loves comments.
Want to win some Shit From My House?
I've posted the one hundred things I'm giving away in honor of the One Hundred (and Three?!) Awesome people who are following my blog. I've put together 55 "prize packages", some big, some small - and I'm really hoping to mail them out to 55 different people, though I'm not above dividing every one of those 100+ things among three entrants.
Tell your friends.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
You people are so freakin' awesome.
All 100 of you!
That's right, folks, I've hit 100 followers/people who don't think I'm boring/awesome people/readers!
Giveaway details are coming. I thought I had at least a week before I'd have to get my shit together (literally), but I only had a day and of course, I'm not prepared. Color me surprised.
Jimi doesn't get the giveaway thing. "You're going to send strangers 100 things that you find around the house?" Yes. "Do you know how much that's going to cost in postage?" What's a few hundred bucks between friends? "Why would anyone want anything you find around the house?" I have no idea, other than a deep conviction that if someone else was hosting this giveaway, I'd want to win something. "You should call it Natalie's Absurd Found Household Item Giveaway." It already has a name, Jimi. It's called Shit From My House. "Must you always cuss?" Yes.
Stay tuned. Good shit is coming. And some really awful shit too.
That's right, folks, I've hit 100 followers/people who don't think I'm boring/awesome people/readers!
Giveaway details are coming. I thought I had at least a week before I'd have to get my shit together (literally), but I only had a day and of course, I'm not prepared. Color me surprised.
Jimi doesn't get the giveaway thing. "You're going to send strangers 100 things that you find around the house?" Yes. "Do you know how much that's going to cost in postage?" What's a few hundred bucks between friends? "Why would anyone want anything you find around the house?" I have no idea, other than a deep conviction that if someone else was hosting this giveaway, I'd want to win something. "You should call it Natalie's Absurd Found Household Item Giveaway." It already has a name, Jimi. It's called Shit From My House. "Must you always cuss?" Yes.
Stay tuned. Good shit is coming. And some really awful shit too.
Monday, April 11, 2011
I have some things to tell you.
My computer is back! Okay, it was barely gone. I dropped it off after work today with Britney Robinson of Robinson Technology & Financial Management Services - within 30 minutes she called to say she'd restored all of my photos YAY!!! In less than 3 hours, she called to say she'd cleared 5 viruses and restored all documents (including tax returns) and our machine was ready to be picked up. It's running like new and the cost was much less than I would've expected - a third of what I paid to repair my ex-husband's machine when he made the same mistake years ago.
Do I have to say how good it feels to know my pictures are safe? Or that I'm going to back those bitches up post haste?
Other things I want to talk to you about:
~ I've got this ridiculously bad habit of accidentally buying Christian Fiction books. I don't pay much attention when I'm buying books, mostly because I don't spend a lot of money when I buy books and if you're only spending a quarter or fifty cents, how bad could it really be, you know? Speaking sign language gorilla bad. My five year old died and now I'm going to clone him except OH WAIT that opens the door for late-term abortions bad. No, really. Those are the story-lines for two of the books I picked up at that neighborhood yard sale last Spring - a REALLY Catholic neighborhood, turns out. The Encyclopedia of the Saints I picked up should've tipped me off maybe. Or the "Women of Faith in Fiction" badge on the cover that I barely glanced at before my purchase was complete.
I never know these books are Christian fiction until I'm like 10 pages in, and by then, I'm officially "Reading" the book. I've got this rule, you see - once I start reading a book, I have to finish it. That piece of shit called "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" or something like that? Stephen King? It's like 150 pages and it took me 10 months to finish it, but I read every page of that pile of poop. So I start reading these books, and I have to finish them, even though it involves lots of eye rolling and soapbox preaching and loud exclaiming.
~ I love Jimi so much. I say it all the time, I know, but my God, I love that man like I love breathing air. You know how when you're in a long term relationship that feeling of awe, that overwhelming ILOVEYOU feeling, it ebbs and flows, right? It does with us too, sure, but we flow a lot more than we ebb. And our highs are so much higher than our lows are low. And he continues to amaze me every day with his ability and willingness to bend, to shift, to move with me, even when I'm unpredictable and nonsensical and crazy. He's a lesson in patience, goodness, kindness, generosity. Every moment I spend with him makes me a better person - he makes me want to do more, to be more.
~ I need to go see if I can play my Sims 3 game again - the restore fucked it all up and I'm hoping the magic fix fixed that too. Fingers crossed!
~ There are two blogging award thingies hanging out there with my name on them that I've yet to acknowledge. I haven't not noticed - I've been busy, and I'm sorry. Give me a few more days, ladies, please?
~ I'm really going to have a giveaway and give away shit from my house. 100 things. No shit. 100. Tell your friends. No more details until I have 100 followers. Yes, I'm trying to lure more people to my blog with the promise of mailing them things I don't want anymore. You know you're going to enter.
I think that's a good place for an ending, eh? Happy (almost) Tuesday!
Do I have to say how good it feels to know my pictures are safe? Or that I'm going to back those bitches up post haste?
Other things I want to talk to you about:
~ I've got this ridiculously bad habit of accidentally buying Christian Fiction books. I don't pay much attention when I'm buying books, mostly because I don't spend a lot of money when I buy books and if you're only spending a quarter or fifty cents, how bad could it really be, you know? Speaking sign language gorilla bad. My five year old died and now I'm going to clone him except OH WAIT that opens the door for late-term abortions bad. No, really. Those are the story-lines for two of the books I picked up at that neighborhood yard sale last Spring - a REALLY Catholic neighborhood, turns out. The Encyclopedia of the Saints I picked up should've tipped me off maybe. Or the "Women of Faith in Fiction" badge on the cover that I barely glanced at before my purchase was complete.
I never know these books are Christian fiction until I'm like 10 pages in, and by then, I'm officially "Reading" the book. I've got this rule, you see - once I start reading a book, I have to finish it. That piece of shit called "The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon" or something like that? Stephen King? It's like 150 pages and it took me 10 months to finish it, but I read every page of that pile of poop. So I start reading these books, and I have to finish them, even though it involves lots of eye rolling and soapbox preaching and loud exclaiming.
~ I love Jimi so much. I say it all the time, I know, but my God, I love that man like I love breathing air. You know how when you're in a long term relationship that feeling of awe, that overwhelming ILOVEYOU feeling, it ebbs and flows, right? It does with us too, sure, but we flow a lot more than we ebb. And our highs are so much higher than our lows are low. And he continues to amaze me every day with his ability and willingness to bend, to shift, to move with me, even when I'm unpredictable and nonsensical and crazy. He's a lesson in patience, goodness, kindness, generosity. Every moment I spend with him makes me a better person - he makes me want to do more, to be more.
~ I need to go see if I can play my Sims 3 game again - the restore fucked it all up and I'm hoping the magic fix fixed that too. Fingers crossed!
~ There are two blogging award thingies hanging out there with my name on them that I've yet to acknowledge. I haven't not noticed - I've been busy, and I'm sorry. Give me a few more days, ladies, please?
~ I'm really going to have a giveaway and give away shit from my house. 100 things. No shit. 100. Tell your friends. No more details until I have 100 followers. Yes, I'm trying to lure more people to my blog with the promise of mailing them things I don't want anymore. You know you're going to enter.
I think that's a good place for an ending, eh? Happy (almost) Tuesday!
Friday, March 25, 2011
I need a babysitter. Sorta.
In a week, I'll be in Virginia, preparing to spend my day sightseeing in Washington, D.C. I'm gonna see all kinds of neat-o stuff. I can't wait - just to be off work will be awesome.
So. Who wants to babysit my blog while I'm gone?
I can't imagine trying to post on the regular while I'm on vacation, but I don't want to leave up some stale "See ya next Tuesday!" post for 6 days, either. I imagine the point of guest bloggers is probably to keep the clicks coming for those blogs that are turning a profit - keep the advertisers happy and whatnot. This isn't that sort of thing. There's no money being made here - I just don't want to see a flat line on my stats page when I get back because that would make me sad in my face.
I'm looking to line up a bloggy friend or 6 to write something each day between 3/31 and 4/5. And not that I'm begging or bribing or anything, but if you help me out here, there's a good chance a souvenir of some sort will show up in your mailbox a week or two later. Come on, people, you know you all need more kitsch for your desk.
So yeah. Anyone?
So. Who wants to babysit my blog while I'm gone?
I can't imagine trying to post on the regular while I'm on vacation, but I don't want to leave up some stale "See ya next Tuesday!" post for 6 days, either. I imagine the point of guest bloggers is probably to keep the clicks coming for those blogs that are turning a profit - keep the advertisers happy and whatnot. This isn't that sort of thing. There's no money being made here - I just don't want to see a flat line on my stats page when I get back because that would make me sad in my face.
I'm looking to line up a bloggy friend or 6 to write something each day between 3/31 and 4/5. And not that I'm begging or bribing or anything, but if you help me out here, there's a good chance a souvenir of some sort will show up in your mailbox a week or two later. Come on, people, you know you all need more kitsch for your desk.
So yeah. Anyone?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Patty thinks I'm sweet.
(Don't tell her the truth, okay?)
She gave me this:
She gave me this:
She blogs over at Another cookie, please! - we found each other through For The Love Of Blogs, and she's the best bloggy friend. She leaves the best comments and she said that she'd cut my hair if I go to her and she shoots too! Chicks with guns - automatic awesome.
Now I'm supposed to tell you five random things about me. I'm hoping I can come up with some things I've not told you before. Give me a minute...
1. I sucked my thumb until I was 9 years old. I had a blankie (an old crib sheet) that went everywhere with me, and I held it wrapped over my first finger so I could smell it while I sucked. I moved the blankie around often - like the other side of the pillow, a cool spot to breathe on the sheet was the best. I tried to quit a few times, but finally my dentist told me I'd need braces if I didn't give up my habit, so I wore socks on my hands for about 6 months and was cured! Kinda - I've woken up with my thumb in my mouth at least twice since then, but not since I was a teenager.
2. I started trying to read Stephen King when I was 10. His stuff was a little advanced for me then - but I finally got through Pet Semetary for the first time when I was 12. (It was the first book that ever made me cry, true story.) After that, it was on - I read every King book I could get my hands on. I read The Stand, all 1300 pages, in 3 days, taking breaks only to eat and pee and sleep. At 13, I read 'Salem's Lot...and promptly rearranged the furniture in my bedroom so I could face the door even while asleep. I also slept with a light on for 6 months after that - that book scared the fuck out of me. I think Mr. King's quality declined with time, but I recently read Lisey's Story, which is a relatively new (within the last 10 years) release, and it was really good. I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for this master of horror.
3. I have a memory of when I was little (whether I was 9 or 13, i don't know), I went to the Property with Granny and Papaw - Papaw was working on the barn in some such way or another, and Granny and I were hanging out in our lawn chairs over in the shade. She'd brought her boom box, and there was a blank tape from somewhere. She sang Cowboy Jack and I recorded it - later when I played it back, Papaw's hammer was a sharp staccato in the background, totally not in time. There were birds chirping, and Granny's voice warbled a time or two and I'm pretty sure she got choked on a high note and coughed. I'd pay $5000 to have that tape in my hands right now.
4. Another being-little memory: I was 5 or 6, and I'd found a pair of nail scissors, and they were fascinating. I wanted to cut something, so I went into Papaw's bedroom, shut the door, walked around to the far side of the bed, and cut a square of fabric out of the flat sheet on the bed. I thought no one would ever notice. Granny did, nearly immediately. (Turns out, the sheets were new. Like, it was the first time they'd been on a bed, new.) Stacy and I were the only ones there; one of us was guilty. She asked us, I lied, Stacy denied. Granny asked again, our little selves lined up in the hallway. I kept thinking, "Eventually, she'll give up. Or Stacy will confess." She didn't, and neither did Stacy. She pulled out the Bible - the same one that's downstairs in my Momma's house right now, on the end table, with Granny's obituary inside. Granny held the book out to us, told us to put our hand on it and say if we'd cut the sheet or not. We both said we hadn't. Granny knew it was me, but she didn't call me a liar; she said one of us was hurting God and Jesus very badly and that we would have to live with that. What I wish more than anything is that I'd told Granny the truth before she'd died.
5. Brevity? It's not my thing. No, really - I can't tell a story to save my life. I get caught up in the background and the details that don't matter and forget to focus on the point.
And now I'm going to introduce you five blogs I love (and the timing is great, because I ran out of steam working on that shout-out post the other night and didn't get to several I wanted to name):
And now I'm going to get back to work.
Happy Monday, Friends!
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I have to tell you about some of my favorite bloggers.
Do you guys know Patty/Slidecutter? She blogs at Another cookie, please!, and she is like the best commenter ever. She gives love on even the worst blog entries - and gently, kindly, lifts me up and helps me see what I need to see.
And Hel? Over at Dal, Hel & Bel? A few months ago I read her words:
And I was >rightthere< with her - FINALLY, someone had said what I wanted to say, in the simplest of terms. And I was so glad I wasn't the only one. And the other day? My reader popped up with the news that, FINALLY, the Universe agreed - it's her turn again! Oh, I was so super happy for her! And a little bit...a little bit it gives me hope that maybe it'll take time, but maybe it'll be my turn one day too. (See? It's always about me.) She left me a comment on my Ifeelsorryformyself rant saying some nonsense about her timing being off - girl, are you kidding me?! I'm super happy for you, and I'm so glad it's your turn. Now, go put in a good word for me, would ya?
I'm sure you guys all know Narragansett No. 7, right? Okay, okay...I don't know her know her - I admit, I don't even know her actual, inreallife name - but she's left a few sweet words for me here and I really like what she writes over there. You should check it out.
And Chubby McGhee!!! (I don't know her inreallife name either. Shit. I'm bad at this bloggy friends thing.) Have you been following her progress? If not, check it out - she's amazing and I want to be more like her. That running thing I've been doing? (still doing that, BTW) A few people said "What's your inspiration?" and I was all "eh, I don't want to be fat" which is totally true at the very core of it - but read her blog for a few minutes. Click back a page or two. See where she's been and where she's going. Dude. She's working her ass off, and she's chasing two little ones at the same time! And she doing things that are so much harder than I'd ever attempt. She's my inspiration.
Mollie (finally! a name I know!!!) over at OK in UK is bloggy friend I found through FTLOB recently, and she's so much fun. I really like reading blogs written by people living outside the US - I want to know what the locals call things, and how they talk, and what their habits are, and what sort of food do they eat there...? My Momma asks questions like that every time she meets someone with an accent. People from Oklahoma count as people with accents. Yes, even to a Kentuckian. People from Oklahoma living in the United Kingdom? Too much excitement for one Kentuckian to take.
Kari. My sweet Notie Kari, from Know-It-Not-So-Much. She's been leaving me words of encouragement and support for months, and I look forward to her posts to see what's new in her life and what new pictures she's taken. And she accepted my Facebook friend request. And she didn't punch me in the face and call the police when I told her her daughter is pretty and that I want to play Barbies with her.
Kristen writes at Confessions of a Graphic Design Student; she said she loves me and that makes her AT LEAST as crazy as me because that's the sort of thing I do and then I'm all "Gosh, i hope they get when I was saying and don't think I'm some sort of crazy creepy stalker person". I like her art, and I like her way with words.
Another inreallife name I don't know, my new bloggy friend Rancher Mom writes at Rancher Mom's Realm and Taylor Ranch Goats. Guys, she uses the f-word and raises goats and chickens - how could you not love her? And dude, she gets me. She probably doesn't know it yet, but she totally gets me.
Ixy at Illusion. Read her latest post - the five-minute one. It's way deep.
And Hel? Over at Dal, Hel & Bel? A few months ago I read her words:
Is it my turn yet?
I want to have a baby.
Just putting it out there. Hellooo Universe - it's my turn again.
And I was >rightthere< with her - FINALLY, someone had said what I wanted to say, in the simplest of terms. And I was so glad I wasn't the only one. And the other day? My reader popped up with the news that, FINALLY, the Universe agreed - it's her turn again! Oh, I was so super happy for her! And a little bit...a little bit it gives me hope that maybe it'll take time, but maybe it'll be my turn one day too. (See? It's always about me.) She left me a comment on my Ifeelsorryformyself rant saying some nonsense about her timing being off - girl, are you kidding me?! I'm super happy for you, and I'm so glad it's your turn. Now, go put in a good word for me, would ya?
I'm sure you guys all know Narragansett No. 7, right? Okay, okay...I don't know her know her - I admit, I don't even know her actual, inreallife name - but she's left a few sweet words for me here and I really like what she writes over there. You should check it out.
And Chubby McGhee!!! (I don't know her inreallife name either. Shit. I'm bad at this bloggy friends thing.) Have you been following her progress? If not, check it out - she's amazing and I want to be more like her. That running thing I've been doing? (still doing that, BTW) A few people said "What's your inspiration?" and I was all "eh, I don't want to be fat" which is totally true at the very core of it - but read her blog for a few minutes. Click back a page or two. See where she's been and where she's going. Dude. She's working her ass off, and she's chasing two little ones at the same time! And she doing things that are so much harder than I'd ever attempt. She's my inspiration.
Mollie (finally! a name I know!!!) over at OK in UK is bloggy friend I found through FTLOB recently, and she's so much fun. I really like reading blogs written by people living outside the US - I want to know what the locals call things, and how they talk, and what their habits are, and what sort of food do they eat there...? My Momma asks questions like that every time she meets someone with an accent. People from Oklahoma count as people with accents. Yes, even to a Kentuckian. People from Oklahoma living in the United Kingdom? Too much excitement for one Kentuckian to take.
Kari. My sweet Notie Kari, from Know-It-Not-So-Much. She's been leaving me words of encouragement and support for months, and I look forward to her posts to see what's new in her life and what new pictures she's taken. And she accepted my Facebook friend request. And she didn't punch me in the face and call the police when I told her her daughter is pretty and that I want to play Barbies with her.
Kristen writes at Confessions of a Graphic Design Student; she said she loves me and that makes her AT LEAST as crazy as me because that's the sort of thing I do and then I'm all "Gosh, i hope they get when I was saying and don't think I'm some sort of crazy creepy stalker person". I like her art, and I like her way with words.
Another inreallife name I don't know, my new bloggy friend Rancher Mom writes at Rancher Mom's Realm and Taylor Ranch Goats. Guys, she uses the f-word and raises goats and chickens - how could you not love her? And dude, she gets me. She probably doesn't know it yet, but she totally gets me.
Ixy at Illusion. Read her latest post - the five-minute one. It's way deep.
**************************
I've had this post in the works for days and then reality hit and so it's been hanging out in blog limbo - I felt like it needed so much more work and I needed to add so many more names, and I do, but for now, this is all I've got and now I'm to the point where I'm just saying this is going to have to be good enough.
I'm sorry if that's lame.
This post was born from two things:
1. Jennasaurus tagged me for the Versatile Blogger Award because she's awesome. And she told me I don't have to follow the rules and so I'm not gonna - I'm not even going to tell these amazing women that I've said nice things about them. I think maybe they might show up around these parts semi-regularly anyhow and they'll see it eventually, and if not, that's cool too.
They've each said things to me that have put a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.
2. OMG, you guys are reading this crap and commenting on it! NO WAI! I can't hardly believe that so many awesome women have found me and so now I've found them and we've found each other and the world can only be a happier place for this reason.
I love you all. I don't know you, but I love you.
You know that, right?
Friday, March 11, 2011
Today is, indeed, a new day.
The sun was shining today. What a difference the sun can make.
And it seemed like the world understood I needed to be handled a bit more gently today. My morning went smoothly, and Jimi - I didn't tell him about my lunchtime breakdown yesterday and he doesn't read my blog, so he doesn't know about all of that; I feel like he deals with enough of my crazy, I don't have to weigh him down with ALL of it ALL the time. But Jimi, that wonderful, sweet, intuitive man of mine, he somehow felt what I needed, and (warning, this may be a TMI moment) this morning? He held me. I was standing in my panties and hair towel, in the door of the TV room, watching the horror of the tsunami coverage on the 46" flat screen, and he came up behind me, pressed his fully-clothed body to mine, wrapped his arms around me, and he held me. He kissed my ears and my neck and he ran his hands along my hips, oblivious to the extra 29 or so pounds hanging out there. He held me, and when I turned to him he kissed my mouth, oblivious to the morning breath I hadn't yet rinsed or brushed away. He held me. And I was reminded of the love, the light, the happy, the joy in my life. And I knew it was all okay.
I came outside and the sun was shining through the trees. The garbage cans were lined up neatly along the curb. The trees were budding. The birds were chirping.
And work was fine. It wasn't crazy or stressful or bothersome; the piles of paper are intimidating, but I kept thinking "one thing at a time" and I was reminded it'll all get done, but I can't do it all at once, so no need getting all worked up over it. I took a customer to lunch; we watched the swollen Ohio River through the window while the television flashed scenes from the devastation in Japan. I went back to the office and dug into my pile; I went to my afternoon meeting; I gathered up the four-inch stack of papers I've got to touch before 7 a.m. Monday.
And then the day, the hard part, was over. Jimi worked the late shift, so I came home and drank a beer and called Stacy. We're going shopping in the morning - she's got a new job to start next week and needs business casual wear; I've been wearing the same jeans and t-shirts for 5 years and need to update my wardrobe. Then I called my Daddy - he's hosting a poker game tonight. Momma's at a fish fry with Aunt Pam. Then Jimi's brother showed up...
Just another awesome Friday. Almost as good as a Saturday. So much better than Thursday.
And, I don't have words to say how thankful I am to each and every one of you who comes here and reads this crap I write. And those of you who comment? Do you have any idea how much happy you bring to my day? Yesterday was pretty bad, guys. I didn't realize how sad I am over this whole "I want to be a Mommy" thing until I found myself bitching about work and realizing I was crying (sobbing) because I'm not pregnant. I'll work my way through this - realizing how all-encompassing it's become is a good first step, I figure.
Jimi and his brother are back with dinner, so I'm going to go eat some fish like a good *pretend* Catholic. Happy Friday, Friends! I hope you're safe and warm and loved and happy and full of hope.
Edit: The world handled ME more gently today; I realize there are many whose lives were devastated today. I'm not at a point where I can talk about that too much just yet; it hurts to think about.
And it seemed like the world understood I needed to be handled a bit more gently today. My morning went smoothly, and Jimi - I didn't tell him about my lunchtime breakdown yesterday and he doesn't read my blog, so he doesn't know about all of that; I feel like he deals with enough of my crazy, I don't have to weigh him down with ALL of it ALL the time. But Jimi, that wonderful, sweet, intuitive man of mine, he somehow felt what I needed, and (warning, this may be a TMI moment) this morning? He held me. I was standing in my panties and hair towel, in the door of the TV room, watching the horror of the tsunami coverage on the 46" flat screen, and he came up behind me, pressed his fully-clothed body to mine, wrapped his arms around me, and he held me. He kissed my ears and my neck and he ran his hands along my hips, oblivious to the extra 29 or so pounds hanging out there. He held me, and when I turned to him he kissed my mouth, oblivious to the morning breath I hadn't yet rinsed or brushed away. He held me. And I was reminded of the love, the light, the happy, the joy in my life. And I knew it was all okay.
I came outside and the sun was shining through the trees. The garbage cans were lined up neatly along the curb. The trees were budding. The birds were chirping.
And work was fine. It wasn't crazy or stressful or bothersome; the piles of paper are intimidating, but I kept thinking "one thing at a time" and I was reminded it'll all get done, but I can't do it all at once, so no need getting all worked up over it. I took a customer to lunch; we watched the swollen Ohio River through the window while the television flashed scenes from the devastation in Japan. I went back to the office and dug into my pile; I went to my afternoon meeting; I gathered up the four-inch stack of papers I've got to touch before 7 a.m. Monday.
And then the day, the hard part, was over. Jimi worked the late shift, so I came home and drank a beer and called Stacy. We're going shopping in the morning - she's got a new job to start next week and needs business casual wear; I've been wearing the same jeans and t-shirts for 5 years and need to update my wardrobe. Then I called my Daddy - he's hosting a poker game tonight. Momma's at a fish fry with Aunt Pam. Then Jimi's brother showed up...
Just another awesome Friday. Almost as good as a Saturday. So much better than Thursday.
And, I don't have words to say how thankful I am to each and every one of you who comes here and reads this crap I write. And those of you who comment? Do you have any idea how much happy you bring to my day? Yesterday was pretty bad, guys. I didn't realize how sad I am over this whole "I want to be a Mommy" thing until I found myself bitching about work and realizing I was crying (sobbing) because I'm not pregnant. I'll work my way through this - realizing how all-encompassing it's become is a good first step, I figure.
Jimi and his brother are back with dinner, so I'm going to go eat some fish like a good *pretend* Catholic. Happy Friday, Friends! I hope you're safe and warm and loved and happy and full of hope.
Edit: The world handled ME more gently today; I realize there are many whose lives were devastated today. I'm not at a point where I can talk about that too much just yet; it hurts to think about.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Holy Smokes!
20 new followers in five days?
Is it lame to blog about this?
I can't help it. I'm excited. I'm flattered. I'm thrilled.
Thank you, For The Love Of Blogs. Thank you, New Friends.
If you're ever in the Louisville, KY area, hit me up - I've got an air-mattress and an upstairs.
Oh. And I took a 2.5 hour nap this afternoon. And I ate pizza. And played pool - REALLY poorly. And Jimi was sweet as pie...and I'd really like to eat some pie. Is there cake? Cake would be nice. I'm probably not sober. Jimi drove us home, just in case. Good choice. Drinkinganddrivingisbadm'kay?
This week has been awesome. It could only get better if I could take a pregnancy test and it would be all "YOU'REGONNAHAVEABABYANDIT'LLBEPERFECTANDWINTHENOBELPEACEPRIZE!!!
"
What're the odds?
Is it lame to blog about this?
I can't help it. I'm excited. I'm flattered. I'm thrilled.
Thank you, For The Love Of Blogs. Thank you, New Friends.
If you're ever in the Louisville, KY area, hit me up - I've got an air-mattress and an upstairs.
Oh. And I took a 2.5 hour nap this afternoon. And I ate pizza. And played pool - REALLY poorly. And Jimi was sweet as pie...and I'd really like to eat some pie. Is there cake? Cake would be nice. I'm probably not sober. Jimi drove us home, just in case. Good choice. Drinkinganddrivingisbadm'kay?
This week has been awesome. It could only get better if I could take a pregnancy test and it would be all "YOU'REGONNAHAVEABABYANDIT'LLBEPERFECTANDWINTHENOBELPEACEPRIZE!!!
"
What're the odds?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Tag, I'm It!!!
A while back, a girl (woman, now) who lived up the street from me when we were growing up left a comment on my blog. It's always cool in a i-hope-i-haven't-written-anything-too-embarrassing sort of way when someone from THE REAL WORLD finds my blog. I'm still pretty hopeful my Momma doesn't know about this published-for-the-world-to-see-but-somehow-still-sort-of-private journal of mine...I use the eff word here and I try really really hard not to do that in front of my Momma. Anyhow, I was like "Oh cool! Stephanie blogs too!", and then I was like, "Oh, crap, I hope I didn't say anything that she'll go tell her Mom about and then her Mom will go say something to my Momma..." and then I realized she has far more interesting things to talk to her Momma about than my boring blog. (It's not all about you, Natalie.) It's neat to find a blog of someone you know in THE REAL WORLD, isn't it? Stephanie and I, we'd said a few hellos to one another via private messages on a local social networking site, but that was years ago, when her babies were still itty bitty babies, and it's not like we took the time to share family photos or to tell each other about our days. Linking back to her blog, Dirt and Lace, I read about her girls (they're 3 and 4 now, and look so much like Stephanie did when she was a kid.), her husband, her family, her business ventures. And I also discovered For The Love Of Blogs. (See the button over there to the right?) (Oh, and coincidentally, Stephanie's blog is nominated for the March Blog of the Month Award. She'd probably really like it if you voted for her.) So, For The Love Of Blogs (we'll call it FTLOB here, it's quicker), it's a shiny happy place where bloggers go to find other bloggers and spread blogging love to all the blogging world. In other words, as a blogger, they help you find readers. As a blog-reader, you're introduced to all kinds of new blogs and stories and tales and sads and happys. It's win/win.
So, I've found some pretty cool new reads thanks to FTLOB, and my most recent favorite, Elephants & Rainboots (I mean, how freakin' cute is that title?), she tagged me in this 7 Facts blog-love-spreading award thingy. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the bloggy love!
This is the first time I've ever done this, so I'm sure I'll do it wrong and break the whole thing, and I almost didn't do it at all because I'm so afraid of failure but then I remembered:
So, I've found some pretty cool new reads thanks to FTLOB, and my most recent favorite, Elephants & Rainboots (I mean, how freakin' cute is that title?), she tagged me in this 7 Facts blog-love-spreading award thingy. Thank you, thank you, thank you for the bloggy love!
This is the first time I've ever done this, so I'm sure I'll do it wrong and break the whole thing, and I almost didn't do it at all because I'm so afraid of failure but then I remembered:
In for a penny, in for a pound.
The Rules:
1. Copy the 7 Facts picture (above - the one with the sunflowers) and paste it in your blog.
2. Thank the person who tagged you. Share the bloggy love and link back to their blog.
3. Share 7 Facts about yourself. (I guess that's where the title comes from?)
4. Pass the love to 15 other bloggers.
I feel like the fat kid in dance class. Again. You're not all laughing at me, are you? If I'm doing it wrong, you'll tell me, right? Okay, here are seven things about me that I'm pretty sure I've never talked about before here in this space:
1. I really was the fat kid in dance class. Stacy and I took dance lessons when we were little - I was maybe 7, 8? Who can remember? I was awkward, that's all I know...but that really could describe almost any period in my life. Anyhow, for a year, once or twice a week, Momma would drive me up the road to the dance academy in the strip mall with the 6 foot gold-colored plastic trophies in the windows, where a pretty 30-something blonde lady tried to teach me and 8 other girls tap, jazz, and ballet for an hour; where I would pretend I hadn't spend most of my days watching the Smurfs and He-Man and She-Ra instead of playing jump-rope or propelling myself across the monkey bars. All (in my not-reliable memory) of the other girls were tall and lithe and graceful and already looked like superstars in their leotards and sheer pink gauzy skirts. I was round and soft and my leotard bunched up in my butt crack and my tap shoes rubbed blisters on my heels. At the end of the year, shortly before my little brother was born (so I was 8 and 9 during my lessons), there was a recital. My costume was red satin, with silver sequins glittering on the spaghetti straps and the 6" wide swatch down the front of the leotard; there were two skirts, (because of course, costume changes are awesome!) one with a thin band of silver sequins supporting a 4" long skirt of red fringe, and the other was an 8" skirt of fire and glare - it was nothing but sequins. The whole thing had a flapper-ish feel to it. We were required to wear pancake makeup - I remember my Momma, big and pregnant, working on making sure the rouge was bright enough on my cheeks, that the bright red lipstick didn't smear. I'll never understand the blue eyeshadow thing, but we had to have that, too. My dance shoes - the ones for tap and ballet - were spray-painted silver. I loved every minute of it - the dressing up and wearing make-up part, not necessarily the learning part - but looking back it was expensive for Momma and Daddy. They didn't put up any fuss when I decided I didn't want to go back. To this day, I'm a lousy dancer.
2. I like popping pimples. It's gross, I know, but I can't help it. I don't want to watch videos of other people doing it, because that sorta makes my stomach do flip flops, but I kinda like popping pimples in real life. Jimi doesn't let me talk about it; he won't let me pop his, either. He says it's gross. I know he's right, but I can't help it.
3. I chipped my tooth last night. On Finn's dog bone. It's a pretty innocuous story, really. Finn had the bone, I was holding it for him, I leaned forward to kiss his nose, he let go of the bone and it smacked me in the teeth. It hurt. Fortunately, I don't think the damage is serious.
4. When I was 19, I got a tramp stamp and had my belly button pierced. I was dumber then, and thinner. The piercing only lasted a year or two; the tattoo is still there, but I never see it, so whatever.
5. I love Sudoku puzzles. I'm pretty good at them, too.
6. I once decided to quit a job because they changed my schedule at the last minute and it was going to cause me to miss the season finale of Friends. No, really - it was an office job, where i worked from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. four days a week. At 6 that fateful Thursday night, they told me they needed me to stay till 8, and that my schedule had changed to 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Tuesday through Friday effective immediately. I thought about it for a minute, realized my show would be over 15 minutes before I got home (this was in the days before DVRs and Hulu.com), then I packed up my desk and went home and watched my show. I sent an email the next morning saying I wouldn't be returning to work, but I would be in to pick up my final paycheck the following week. They tried to make me do an exit interview, but I refused, and I knew they couldn't deny me my final check, so I avoided giving them a last opportunity to berate me.
Okay, I didn't quit just to watch Friends - the schedule change was just the final straw in a long history of abuse and mistreatment I suffered at the hands of the owner of that company - one that specialized in Human Resources, not even joking. For six months before I quit, I drank Alka Seltzer every day, four and five times a day, in an effort to combat the horrible heartburn I felt from the time I woke up until I was finally home for the evening. The morning I sent that email? No heartburn. It was like a miracle. No guilt here.
7. I'm a pop culture ignoramous. On the rare occasion that I watch a movie all the way through, it's likely that I won't remember much about it a week later. I don't know actors names and I don't recognize them when they're in good costumes. I don't know who's been on SNL or what happened on Lost or Dexter. I don't know what music is new or good (I listen to NPR in the car). I have no guilt about any of this.
Enough about me. (That was hard.) These 15 blogs are ones I enjoy, and I think you should give them a look-see, too:
2. Very Trashy
9. I Won't Say
11.Very Ape
13.About Life*
15.Chubby McGee
Now I have to go post links to this post on their blogs so they'll know I've tagged them. I hope they don't laugh at me. Tag, friends, you're it! C'mon, play along, go join up at FTLOB, etc. and so on.
Oh, and Happy Saturday!
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The boring blog meets the doldrums.
I'm not sure what happened. For months there, I was a blogging fool, telling you every (almost) sordid detail of my mundane, boring day-to-day life. And now? I've not posted anything worth reading in weeks. My bad.
I think part of what took the wind out of my sails is knowing I've been snubbed by Blogher. Not that I can blame, them of course, but I really wanted them to like me and let me be one of them. It's been so much longer than 45 days since I submitted that application, though, so maybe in six months I can try again. Maybe in six months I'll have completely lost interest in blogging. Probably not, but I don't do so well with rejection, even if it comes in the form of no response at all.
So yeah, that's a bummer, and makes me do some reflection on my little slice of the internet here. I say this is for me, and it is, really, but I also want you to like it and want to read it, and when I look at the crap I've been putting out there, well, I can try harder, let's just put it that way. I read dozens and dozens of blogs, and some of the writers seem to put so much more into their words; in comparison, I feel like I'm all surface and they're all depth. I could change that. I could. I could try harder. I don't try hard at a lot of things; I think maybe this thing means enough to me that I probably should try hard at this.
I said once that I think you have to live a good life in order to give good blog, and maybe my shitty writing here lately is a reflection of the life I'm living. I don't do much; I go to work, I come home. Rarely, I'll venture out to spend 2 or 3 hours with a friend or family member, but I'm always watching the clock, counting the minutes until I can make a not-rude exit and get back to my house. What, you ask, do I do at home that's so fascinating and enthralling and consuming? Nothing. I sit here, read the internet, watch the ignorance that passes for television programming, eat, pet the dog, tell Jimi I love him. That's pretty much it; so exciting.
I started walking/jogging/running at least 20 minutes a day almost 3 weeks ago, and for the most part, I've stuck to it remarkably well. But you don't want to hear a rehash of that shit. This isn't a weight-loss blog. And really "I walked/jogged/ran for 20 minutes tonight" is really all there would be to say about that. Same with the other major lifestyle change I've made this year - I'm still not smoking. YAY ME! Sure, I've cheated (the entirety of last week was pretty much a shameful weak moment; the time I told you about, then again the night before Kim's birthday when we went out, and then Jimi and I split a smoke on our way home Saturday night), but I've not bought a pack of smokes this year. I'm still counting myself as a non-smoker. I'm going to beat this monkey to fucking death. But again - how many times can I say "Still not smoking!"? Boor-ring!
Can we talk for a moment about the word "fuck"? I like it, a lot; you've probably noticed. I've been told it's tacky, or that it debases my words. I don't worry about that so much; I do worry that it offends. I don't mean to offend - sometimes, I just feel a particular thought needs a good strong "fuck" to fully illustrate the point I'm trying to make. I've tried to switch to Eff or f-bomb, but it doesn't always do the job I'm needing done. This is a battle I fight in real life, too, so please don't feel like I'm saving them all up for my writings.
Anyhow, so I'm either going to have to find a theme or some writing exercises to get my juices flowing, or I'm going to have to get out of my comfort zone and do some stuff I don't usually do. I should probably do both, and not for the blog, but for me, for my sanity and health and social well-being. I'm going to find a Zumba or Yoga class. And then I'm going to attack that volunteering thing I talked about a month ago and haven't done anything about just yet. And I've been more social - I was out 3 times last week, as a matter of fact. Combined, that should give me something to say - deepen that creative pool, so to speak.
So bear with me, bloggy-friends, I'll get my shit together and get to giving good blog again soon enough. The sun is out - that makes me feel more inspired already.
I think part of what took the wind out of my sails is knowing I've been snubbed by Blogher. Not that I can blame, them of course, but I really wanted them to like me and let me be one of them. It's been so much longer than 45 days since I submitted that application, though, so maybe in six months I can try again. Maybe in six months I'll have completely lost interest in blogging. Probably not, but I don't do so well with rejection, even if it comes in the form of no response at all.
So yeah, that's a bummer, and makes me do some reflection on my little slice of the internet here. I say this is for me, and it is, really, but I also want you to like it and want to read it, and when I look at the crap I've been putting out there, well, I can try harder, let's just put it that way. I read dozens and dozens of blogs, and some of the writers seem to put so much more into their words; in comparison, I feel like I'm all surface and they're all depth. I could change that. I could. I could try harder. I don't try hard at a lot of things; I think maybe this thing means enough to me that I probably should try hard at this.
I said once that I think you have to live a good life in order to give good blog, and maybe my shitty writing here lately is a reflection of the life I'm living. I don't do much; I go to work, I come home. Rarely, I'll venture out to spend 2 or 3 hours with a friend or family member, but I'm always watching the clock, counting the minutes until I can make a not-rude exit and get back to my house. What, you ask, do I do at home that's so fascinating and enthralling and consuming? Nothing. I sit here, read the internet, watch the ignorance that passes for television programming, eat, pet the dog, tell Jimi I love him. That's pretty much it; so exciting.
I started walking/jogging/running at least 20 minutes a day almost 3 weeks ago, and for the most part, I've stuck to it remarkably well. But you don't want to hear a rehash of that shit. This isn't a weight-loss blog. And really "I walked/jogged/ran for 20 minutes tonight" is really all there would be to say about that. Same with the other major lifestyle change I've made this year - I'm still not smoking. YAY ME! Sure, I've cheated (the entirety of last week was pretty much a shameful weak moment; the time I told you about, then again the night before Kim's birthday when we went out, and then Jimi and I split a smoke on our way home Saturday night), but I've not bought a pack of smokes this year. I'm still counting myself as a non-smoker. I'm going to beat this monkey to fucking death. But again - how many times can I say "Still not smoking!"? Boor-ring!
Can we talk for a moment about the word "fuck"? I like it, a lot; you've probably noticed. I've been told it's tacky, or that it debases my words. I don't worry about that so much; I do worry that it offends. I don't mean to offend - sometimes, I just feel a particular thought needs a good strong "fuck" to fully illustrate the point I'm trying to make. I've tried to switch to Eff or f-bomb, but it doesn't always do the job I'm needing done. This is a battle I fight in real life, too, so please don't feel like I'm saving them all up for my writings.
Anyhow, so I'm either going to have to find a theme or some writing exercises to get my juices flowing, or I'm going to have to get out of my comfort zone and do some stuff I don't usually do. I should probably do both, and not for the blog, but for me, for my sanity and health and social well-being. I'm going to find a Zumba or Yoga class. And then I'm going to attack that volunteering thing I talked about a month ago and haven't done anything about just yet. And I've been more social - I was out 3 times last week, as a matter of fact. Combined, that should give me something to say - deepen that creative pool, so to speak.
So bear with me, bloggy-friends, I'll get my shit together and get to giving good blog again soon enough. The sun is out - that makes me feel more inspired already.
Friday, November 19, 2010
If you're reading this...
I promise I'm not going to blog about fruit today.
Let's talk about you.
Who are you?
Where do you live?
How old are you?
Do you have children? A spouse or partner?
What's your job?
What's been the best part of your week so far?
If you had to pick just one thing about you that you'd want everyone to know, what would it be?
Humor me, would ya? If you've got the time, drop me a little note. Comments make me happy.
Let's talk about you.
Who are you?
Where do you live?
How old are you?
Do you have children? A spouse or partner?
What's your job?
What's been the best part of your week so far?
If you had to pick just one thing about you that you'd want everyone to know, what would it be?
Humor me, would ya? If you've got the time, drop me a little note. Comments make me happy.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
We've got business to attend to here.
I've changed a few things around here. Not that anyone's around often enough to notice...
And that brings us to our first order of business:
And that brings us to our first order of business:
If I've made you LOL or giggle or snort or even maybe just smirk a little, please follow my blog. It can be your good deed of the day. You'll make me feel special. You don't ever have to read this crap again. (But please do.)
(I read that on a "how to get more people to read your blog" website. It said if you want people to subscribe to your blog, you have to ask them. I'm going to see if it works.)
You also now have the ability to rank each post. Your options are:
UR DUM
Awesome!
Your blog is BORING
I don't really think we need an explanation, do we? Moving on...
Actually, that's all I had. Follow my blog, and a new fun toy to encourage people to try to make me cry. Yep, that's it.
Happy Sunday!
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