Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Microwaves Freak Me Out

First things first - if it weren't for a microwave and the food industry it supports, I would have starved or become a vegan years ago.

Having said that - how is it possible that 2 minutes can scald the outer edges of a mashed potato and gravy cup of heaven while leaving the inside a chilled brick while 20 seconds on a cookie can make the outer ring cooler than room tempurature but that middle chocolate chip worthy of Italian Mafia Torture the way it burns your unsuspecting tongue?

Love technology but... its weird. Thats all I'm sayin. Back me up. Or tell me what physical property of "warm it up all the way around and inside and out at the same time" I am missing.

Is this the kind of guy...

who looks like he might say "I appreciate you getting back in touch with me. I'm in the middle of changing jobs. I have to say you can touch my chest but THATS IT. Its not you... I just can't get distracted right now." ????????????????????????

Now, I thought he was gay. I DID. But I had called him from 20 minutes away one night and with two chugged beers and a wink I had rugburn and short breath to Prove he knew what to do with a woman.
I admit it was my fault we lost touch. I got a new phone number and didn't transfer his number to the new address book - he would rather watch Rocky IV in a restaurant than look me in the face. Not my kinda date. If he'd have let me back to his place, I'd have been all over it. But he never did.
Either way, I saw this pic on a networking site and thought "how nice do I have to be for how long before I feel the power of those arms wrapped around my legs as he pulls me into those flexed abs and lets me feel their power where it counts?"

He's calling me after work ;)

Monday, November 28, 2005

Its a Family Holiday

I'm not sure when I realized that mine was a disfunctional family but it was solidified over this holiday weekend.

I now understand what a Cleaver type household FEELS like. To be at a table where the history and the love started and has remained the sparkle in the father's eye was an awakening. To have the laughs be at a siblings expense but to have the next visit planned two minutes later was like watching a miracle take place. To be in a home that this family grew together in, to see the chronology in the framed pictures that crowd the walls and tabletops, to feel the years in the air made me comfortable the instant I walked in.

The event was inspiring. I wasn't allowed to contribute anything. I was invited two hours after everyone so I could drive my own car and leave at will. My wine was always chilled in my plastic party cup; a full champagne awaited me in crystal at the dinner table. I was ordered to have seconds before the pie was served. I was given knowing winks across the table, a squeeze of the hand after grace, a hearty laugh at an under the breath comment, a great big hug with the "nice to meet you" goodbye.

I did talk to my family this week. The long distance ones were glad to hear I was doing well at my job, though they couldn't remember what it is that I do. The close ones didn't need to hear more than "coughs from the cubemate" to uninvite me and vocally snarl at not having an extra bank account RSVP to bring all the things they couldn't afford to put on the table. I didn't get two minutes from the more distant of the lot. I felt more closeness from the melencholy message He left than from the guilt tripping parental unit who was too busy cooking Wednesday nights dinner to notice the turmoil I overcome to return a phone call to his house. I was willing to forgive his naivete and be his daughter anyway. When he knew I wasn't coming to visit he lost interest in my plans for the long weekend; couldn't care what I have to be thankful for. He didn't hear have time for me. I had wanted to share and now I'm over it and he will never understand why we are not closer.

"Hello (insert real life name here), just calling to say Happy Thanksgiving. Hope your having a good day. I wish you well. Bye." Somehow that was more heartfelt and endearing and admirable and true than the whole hour and a half of voicemails and flippant comments from the ones who say they love me most. We chatted, laughed, complained and agreed about family weekends, felt the chaism between us strongly anchoring itself. He asked if I was ok with not being with my family; asked if I had anything to be thankful for; allowed me to hear the disenchantment of his life over a static ridden cell phone connection. We are understanding how unreasonable it is to expect the life we wanted together only a year ago. We still enjoy the few minutes of knowing each other, being open with each other. This is how I want to be with everyone in my life. Gloomily unnerving how he was the one person in four days who could offer ten minutes of heartfelt closeness and the one person I know I can't let myself love.

After two lazy leftover filled days, I returned to the family home for dinner again last night. Baked pork ribs, potatoes au gratin, green bean cassarole, cool whip pie and coffee for dessert. A warm hello, great big smiles, passing to the left, clearing the table before dad is finished picking at his plate. A few gifts for the household and a list of notes on how to care for the dog while the parents are away before we are allowed to leave... and a warm comfort of Family to add that holiday glow to my cheeks before a dreamless contented sleep.

I understand it now, the desire to build a family of one's own. My family was nothing to wish for - accept them for who they are and remember them at Christmas but nothing to crave. This family let me feel the comforts of their home. Their surrogacy will fill the want for knowing I am cared for; their kindness will fill my desire for a knowing there is good in the people around me. I am reverently thankful for their warm hearts and acceptance me, a relative vagabond.
And That is the most I could ever hope for on a holiday weekend.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Help Me - I want a Better Blog

I had the time and I played with finding pictures and posting them next to all the comments of todays other post but I just don't get it. I added a list of new pics and none of them but the first came up - and that was an empty box!!!

I DID figure out how to turn the words blue so you can click on them and link to what I'm talking about... =) Big Yeah!! I am feeling real on top of things since this site is obviously built to be easy to use and I can't figure it out.

Or maybe this is the perfect opportunity to bat my lashes at the Techies and have them not report that I blog at work while they help me understand these darnded 'pooters?? The one last week asked if I would apply to work with them... he's prime for the noggin picken for Sure!!

Seriously folks, it can't be hard. I'm at a mental agility low and am not reading any stinkin help page to get me out of it =) Just pat me on the head and tell my cursor where to point and I'll get some awsomely appropriate, clever, entertaining pics to go along with the next few mind pours, ok?

Thoughts of the Day

Its the week of a holiday and apparently my department decided to take the entire week off; I have nothing to do. Others seem to be working, but I at the bottom of the hill of shit to roll down have successfully moved the manuer piles as they come at me and am now left with nothing to do but muse.

Thought One to Chew On: I met a guy for dinner last night that I'd never met before. He read my online profile (that I wrote of myself in an astonishingly honest and upbeat mood), emailed me for two days (where we talked of much but mostly how much I rock and how he so wants to spend time with me), got consent for the date (when I refused to divulge experiental data online and demanded an address to meet him at), and after all that me-talking-about-me his assessment of me at near first glance (as his impression was made of me and the picture posted of me laughing wildly in a mall six months ago) was "under rated".
I'm a little confused because I didn't once flaunt that I graduated University and have been at menial desk jobs since. Never spouted at how I never complained at the dishes in the sink when all the roomies I've ever had pick this as the worst offense. Didn't brag at my standardized test scores or my enrollment in special classes to keep me from turning to drugs for stimulation. Not once did I foreshadow my desire to be great in the very near future or the possibility that I am in a position at my company where they can see my potential and use it instead of wait for me to get bored and leave.
He had no explanation to support his phrase. And its been on my mind since it fell out of his mouth. He also had no support for "its your face - people think you party because of how you look" as I looked down at my half size too big jeans, kahki and white tennies, and spring colored pinstriped shirt with my hair in a 50's style single ponytail and moderate-to-look-natural makeup. Not sure why this guys assessment is sticking with me, but maybe he cfame into my life to buy me sushi and Sapporo and thought nuggets that get stuck in my brain for a bit.

Thought Two to Chew On: Is consideration really a sliding scale of a personality trait or is it a pass/fail test?? For your consideration...
Miss Menthol is one to take an incoming call on her cell phone, start it at her desk, decide its rude and rush to take it outside, come back STILL TALKING, sit at her desk with both feet up on the computer, leaning back in her chair, flipping her hair furiously over my desk and demand "I have to go" only after she has emphatically forcefed her point to the sap on the other end as she hits End to make her point the last given. She will then let out a "Sheesh" and describe to me the whole conversation no matter what I am doing- unless I don't look up, in which case she "hurmph"s loudly and goes about her business. This is surely a part of her day she could modify to be ACTUALLY considerate if in fact we are on a sliding scale model. She obviously knows shes participating in a possibly inconsiderate activity or why else would she leave for the duration of the body of the conversation? Oh, she is just so important no one should hear what she has to say until she gives the final report two seconds after hanging up.
Also, I have a roomate who does not understand cohabitation. There is no reason for her to see a room with a conversation happening as anything besides a room with a computer she wants to be at. To check her email. For the fourth time in the hour. To see if the guy on the other side of the world woke up and emailed her yet. She can not comprehend that if she is at said computer and the cat who lives exclusively in that room wants to eat, he will just walk the table in his normal fashion with no regard that she is watching the monitor. As if she wasn't there. To her, there is no respect for her being there and how dare he act as if the room was only there for his purposes. As she finally acknowledges the two humans in the room (15 minutes since her entry) to complain of devilish the cat who obviously needs to be trained respect her presence, she finds two animal lovers (strike one) who avoided a conversation mid sentance because she walked into the room (strike two) with mouths agape at her need to talk over the tangential conversation just to complain that her IM date was interupted by a damn cat who ::gasp:: wanted to be the center of attention for two seconds while grabbing a bite (strike three). She left in a huff that we were not more agreeable to her plight.
This indifference to any other mammals right to exist in the space deemed theirs at the moment would have me believeing consideration is in fact a yes or no question to answer on the MMPI. Though I find my personal habits of consideration to be more of a sliding scale... like some days I ask the dog "excuse me please" and other days I start with the side of my foot pushing the hind end out of my way and only when they (there are two dogs I will do this to) stand up do I say "thanks, dang!"

Thought Three to Chew On: I have taken to having a big bottle of our "filtered" office water that tastes like stale ass at room tempurature at my desk and filling a full ice cup as my hydration source. I used to refill the 6oz cup in the kitchen as many times a day as I could remember; the evolution provides a much superior method. Here's the thought - there is something about pouring my desired drink from a bottle over resting ice that is akin to my weekend of pouring from the bottle of vodka over ice. Is it that I have figured out a way to avoid the afternoon thirsties or that I so want the ritual involved in drinking so much it has overlapped into my work day?

Thought Four to Chew On: The flu is going around my office. When Aunt Flow brought her torture devices last week, I left early and the office assumed I caught the bug. I insisted I was healthy and that this month's rendition of "so you didn't get pregnant AGAIN?!?!?" was being an especially rowdy performance, but they only heard 'sick' and dismissed me eagerly.
Today I can hear an obviously not allergy induced sneeze across the cubicle hallway, a wheeze from the office behind me, a stuffy head kiddycorner, and from My Miss Menthol a cough that screams bronchitis which I know very affectionately as the Maja Rumble. My grandma had the same constantly sick lungs being smoked over the entire time I knew her and she sounded exactly the same as the woman who shares my 18 square feet 7 hrs a day. The problem with this is that I can't catch smokers cough - I can catch a chest cold to mimic the sound. And with the "everyone is sick" thoughts around here, all I can think is "I'm Healthy" as a mantra to keep their negative thoughts and virus loaded exhales from sinking in at my holiday dinner.

Thought Five to Chew On: If I spend this Thanksgiving with a family and not my family, is there anything wrong with that? There is bound to be rash judgements, mountains of food, plenty of inside jokes and a swarm of sidelong glances and winks - just like any family get together of mine - and I will be welcomed as part of theirs with open arms... but they are not my bloodline. Its not that my family isn't around or that I haven't been invited. I would rather go to a home I've never been in to eat a cerimonial meal with people I've only heard of and participate in razing insecurities of near strangers while asking them to pass the unfamiliar mashed potatoes and pour me another glass of wine. Seriously, is there any reason to think a guilty thought on this subject?

Thought Six to Chew On: If my spiffy new phone/iPod can hold 100 songs but I only uploaded six albums this weekend, how many times can I listen to the same album I've already listened to once a week for over a year before I 1)don't hear it anymore and its used solely for drowning out the sicky noises or 2)I can't stand the sounds anymore and I must listen to the sicky noises for fear of pulling my ears off?

All this thinking has really got me hungry. I'm going to raid the leftovers from the conference room for bite sized brownies and chicken salad and find a schedule of gym classes to plan the ones I'll go to. And if my duplicitous actions (well planned out I'll have you notice) have you wondering if I've fallen off my rocker, check out Avatar's description of a perfect woman and revel in the glory that is Pretty Damn Close.

Monday, November 21, 2005

The Blues

I recently read that 80% of the US population die within a 20 mile radius of their birthplace. I am not sure when that study was conducted but it wasn't more than 10 years ago if memory serves.

This afternoon I took a very late and very very short lunch break (ah, the joys of getting to work half an hour late!!) and realized that my days have been feeling like I am missing something. As the microwave of leftovers beeped in completion, I took my bowl of chicken pesto pasta outside.

The chairs and tables in our courtyard have been replaced since I visited last... indeed its since the time change I haven't taken a full lunch break except on Fridays when payday errands demand it.

My eyes hit the skyline. It was dusted with the tips of the trees leaves turning with the autumn air, looking crisp as the sun gleamed off the rocks of the facing baren mountainside. And the glow of the that sure sky blue behind the dogwood blooms as I took my seat warmed my entire senses. In one breath I took in the shade of Crayola never quite attained. My gaze lingered a bit, then rolled over the mountaintop to find more and more spirit quenching hues to take in on this quiet afternoon.

As I scraped the bottom of the bowl for the last drenched morsel of my meal I felt the almost chill breeze flip my hair. The storm clouds were on the move, giving contrast where the sunbeams had warmed the earth. I took my moment, sat watching the colors morph into more perfect representations of my favorite color.

Perhaps this is what is really meant by the comforts of home... My childhood memories based only 30 miles from here.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Sticky Situation

PLEASE help me with this one folks...
I was asked to track down a file and did so with a quickness.
Upon delivery to her cube, I was greated with a smile and a tremendous thanks.
As I turned to leave, she whispers my name and waves me back into her cube.
"Do you smoke?" she asks pointedly.
"No, I don't." I reply inflectionless.
"I didn't think you did, but you smell like smoke." An emploring look comes across her face.
"My cubemate smokes." She winces. "Menthols" I continue in disgust. She sighs and closes her eyes to cut off the incoming information to deal with the monstrosity of a concept she has just been dealt.

So I thought it an inconvenince that I can't breath for four minutes every time Miss Menthol comes back from where ever she takes her cancer, but I am now up in arms that my barely worn and nearly worn out clothes can no longer come off my body and hang in the "worn but can be worn again" section of my closet (I'm am just that organized) due to 1) NOT being able to sit in the stench of someone elses addiction and 2) the bleed over factor to the rest of my closet is most undesireable. I am suddenly quite aware of my curled lip when I approach a stack of clothes with the intent of determining which part of the closet they go to... I thought it was just time for my body to change its scent again but now it is clear I was sniffing the tar and weeds of the green box I thought I could leave at the office.

How, pray tell, is the subject to be broached with my cubemate?? Surely I can not accept this intrusion of personal space... to have walked across the entire building and be reaking of smoke to get asked about it??!?!?!!? How vile I feel. What can I say to get this ick look off my face??
Oh, and only one short hour ago I was admiring myself in the full length mirror of the private bath, so proud of how my ensamble complimented my figure and skin tone to the point I forgot why I was there in the first place and took advantage of my willing self. And at this moment, as she grabs her satchel and tosses her locks and dashes for an outside area to further the insult I can't get my skin to stop crawling.
Help me in my quest to be ever considerate of others choices and gracious in my interactions... I can think of no sentance besides "I wasn't going to mention that you return with a pigpen-esqe cloud from your frequent breaks but I can not have the world thinking I participate in this particular habit... would you mind making a hot lap around the building after your finished burning that reprehensable roll of putrid carcinogens while fanning yourself and spraying FeBreeze so I don't have to?? Many thanks..."

Sex and Vodka

Flashbacks are lovely sometimes.
I distinctly remember a time in my life when the hard dreamless sleep induced by vodka and hard fast sex was rudely cut short by my day job which allowed me to support this habit. It was a short lived phase, lending quickly to intermitent reminders of why its either a full time lifestyle or reserved for weekends.
Today I have cause to remember the adrenyline rush that used to get me through these days. The wonderous Morning Riser Smoothie My Way from the joint across the street and the servers could always tell I wouldn't be needing the confirmation that two shots were my desire in the chocolate raspberry yougurt hangover cure. The girls in the office stopping in to dig for the details and giggle wildly as they rushed up the stairs to their desk covered in pictures of family life they had momentarily forgotten while pretending to live in my world. That sweet view of my bed in the setting sun when my commitment to the day of being a stand up contributing citizen was over and I could rest my aching eyes. The days when dinner was not necessary and neither were pajamas as the simple release of will power to remain upright was satisfactory to put me into a blissful sleep for a few hours.

I've sent my thank you note to the kind sir who gave cause for these reflections. He was gracious in his reception. I've drunk the heat of the sunshine in the backseat of my car and gave in to the desire to rest. I've appreciated my ability to find a haristyle that needs no effort to cover that it is not freshly washed or that it has just been slept in.

As I feel the afternoon caffeine and sugar circulating my mind wanders to the view of my bed at this time of day... under the window, the sun filtered by the blinds, a strong sunbeam across the askew pillows, blankets tossed about with enough of a crevice right near the top to grip with one directed and meaningful hand and fall into the freshly changes sheets that feel like a big t-shirt.

The countdown has begun. In a few short hours I will complete the trip down Memory Lane, having all the weary smiles of a hard treck victoriously completed again.
I guess some things I'm not too old for =)

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


You know those days when you go to the coffee and you expect it to be the cheap sludge that even dinners won't use and you have to fill the cup half full of dry creamer and sugar cubes just to choke it down but you DO because there is no possible way you can sit at your desk and keep your eyes open for any more than 4.2 minutes without it and even though you know all those indigestion commercials will be very important to you in the fairly near future because of it you can't let go of the idea of not getting that warm cup of caffeine in you in the morning and when the day comes that you catch a gourmet in the kitchenette brewing what looks and smells and feels like actual real fresh java you stand and wait for the whole pot to brew just to be sure you don't have to deal with the rot gut junk that will surely be what this magnifisence is replaced with and there is just enough creamer left in the fridge to make it a smooth creamy barely sweetened with the aroma of french vanilla that makes your heart warm just to smell it... the day that your thermal mug gets filled and a paper cup just so you won't have to think in the afternoon of what a glorious morning fix you had and be so overwhelmingly disappointed with the goop of normal days when the afternoon sleepies need to be shoed away so you can manage to twitch your way through the last two or three hours of the day without realizing you didn't see the sunshine yet today and so you don't notice the greyness of the cubicle walls around you...
When this is the entire thought process repeated for two hours, you know your an addict.
And my company is my pusher.
Gotta Love Corporate America.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Being a Woman

I just love days when its warm enough to wear a skirt with no nylons.
Not only are the shoe options exponentially increased, there is something very scintillating about the feel of the fabric swishing across my bare ass as I walk through the building. (Thongs don't do much in the way of catching the breeze.)
Compoudly, I appreciate my knowledge of myself on days like this... the ones where my fuse is short in every aspect of life and my heartbeat is up a few points just to try to dilute the hormones in my brain. While my temper is ready for a spark, so is my work ethic and can do attitude. I am also prone to violent fits of sexual energy however; the kind that make a wink in the hallway plenty sufficient for a pounce. I'll admit the skirt isn't helping, and he hasn't winked today, but Big Red has emailed three times and Marvin Gaye came on the radio with "Lets Get It On" and it was all I could do not to ask him where he was going for lunch today!!
Ah, PMS... sometimes its just not that bad.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

Sunday Morning

It's 8am on a Sunday and I woke up on my own. I may crawl back into bed but that my body is finally accepting my life's schedule is cause for celebration as much as it is cause for grief.
I knew some day I would cross the line and have a trait about me that was once delegated to "when you get older" and this is one of them. I have always been one to sleep for 12 hours if given the chance. There is only a tiny bit of remorse at missing the morning because all the fun I was missing was at night.
As I have grown up this last year, I realize that the person I am becoming doesn't see the night life as a priority. I haven't searched it out. I decided that my career is worth starting. I understand that sleep is neccessary but not a hobby. And here I sit on a weekend with no plans and consciousness. Strange indeed.

The house is quiet. I slept on the couch last night. One of the girls came in quite late and made a storm of kitchen noise but I was determined not to wake in a fit of anger and lie in bed for an hour trying to recover.
I didn't drink yesterday. Not one drop. I looked at the shelf of beer in my fridge and chose water. When I wanted to eat, I put on my shoes and went to the gym for half an hour. I broke my hairclip right there on the elliptical. When I came home I served myself fresh fruit salad and more water. And it came. That wave of remembering that you can avoid only as easily as a tsunami viewed from a beach house.

I didn't know why I called Him. I knew it was great that He called me. But I had nothing missing in my settled world. I decided one day that I would just hit send to the text message and I was in a place where that was a command and not a reminder of bad service. And it was grand. He called every day of the week following, and somehow I wanted him around. I arranged it to make it easy on both of us. He came to me.

We kissed. We talked. We ate. We cuddled. We giggled. He was captive to my voice. I was captivated by his gaze. He wanted me upstairs. I followed. He showered. I showered. He had his shoes on when I came out. I stood in a towel, my ankles a bit chilled from the four drops left there to dry themselves, hearing how he is glad I am back and how wonderful a home cooked meal tasted and how lovely my home is as he kisses me tenderly in his shoes. I was in shock. He bought a book of behavior disorders to find out why he treats people so poorly so he can find out how to stop having regret in the morning and he is leaving me wide awake standing in a towel. I told Him I am right here and there is no reason to have regret in the morning; just stop. He had decided. I told Him to enjoy his regret since he so obviously prefers to say sorry in the morning than yes right now. He was glad I understood him so well. I walked Him out in my towel. It took three minutes for that truck to start. I have no reason to assume it wasn't for another girl on the phone and not a reconsideration of me. I didn't make it up the steps before the tears came. And they didn't stop.

I came out of it. I was covered in defeat. And I knew it wasn't me who was to blame. I was trying to regain that innocence that he forced me from last year. I wanted something familiar in my life. I wanted to see in him that I am the kind of woman that guys will think got away. He gave me all of that. And a reminder that I have grown up this year. That my world is no longer out of my hands. That I choose to make ME the center of my universe and not Him. I wanted Him to grow up too and our meeting would be on even ground. He hasn't grown and he pulled me down to his level. And it took one day to remember I am not who He thinks I am. I have grown up. And that is cause for celebration and also a moment of grief.

Today is a new day. The sky is blue. The air is crisp. The trees gently sway. I choose for this day to be filled with simple joys and light conversation and peace in the knowledge that I am an evolving maturation. And today I will grieve for the lost innocence. And I will celebrate the wisdom, self reliance, capabilities, and growing pains of being here as I am today.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

I found my smile

Yesterday was empowering.
I asserted myself to a customer service rep of my phone company.
I reasserted my independence by walking into another carrier with a bottom line and ending up with a Rockin brand new phone with all the gadgets to go with it.
Then I became a tech junkie and picked ring tones for two hours.
I read a few pages of my novel in bed with the slow methodical exhales of My Love (the dog) keeping time as the lines passed.
I had a full nights sleep last night.

I hit the snooze so many times I got an extra hours sleep this morning.
I pressed my leg up against My Love and she stretched against it. This always fosters peace in each of us.
I realized I would be late to work. I turned off all the alarms and rolled toward the door.
My eyes opened to see My Love stretched along my leg then the Clear Horizon shade of blue I picked for my rental repaint of the room followed by the oil painting I bought for myself for my college graduation and just below it a bulletin board with pictures of all the friends I left when I came here.
And it came. The tiny stress of the apple of my cheeks that pulls my face from the relaxed/angry/solomn/focused/depressed/introverted norm to an upbeat/perky/satisfied/contented/and yes relaxed but with Life face that I had lost somewhere.
Somehow my world in the last few days has evolved to produce a version of me that can roll over in the morning knowing another tardy is unavoidable and find a moment to smile in spite of absolutely all the ails of the world.
I woke up with a smile! As a bonafide night owl, this is miraculous!!

My cubemate and I were girls today. Chatting, conversing, relating, rolling our eyes together, shared laughs that got the adjoining cubemates to prairie dog just to find out what all the fun was about.
I successfully told the guys on the prowl to back off.
The Redhead emailed saying he thought I was being very cool and understanding and he really wants to be my friend and see you tomorrow.
I asked my fellow cube dweller a few disjointed questions only to be called back into her cube and read on her screen "if a permanent position were to open up in the department would you" before the overwhelming but barely audible "mmhhhmmhmhhhhmmmhhhmhmhmh" came pouring from me as I could find no words for the opportunity she was placing before me.
Everything I ate or drank today was complimentary =)
And to top it all, when I left the office and checked both my phones, I saw that He called. No message since the crossover apparently has some kinks... oh, but the victorious cripplingly overwhelming awe that comes when He is on the missed calls list!

And suddenly I realized I had thought as I looked at my surroundings this morning and that warm sensation came over my face: "the paint is the hue of His eyes".

Its near 1am now. I have been to both cell phone company stores, the gym to sign a new membership, home for complimentary dinner and conversation (thank you great roomies!), got a few chores done, finished clearing my room of any sign of a semi recent move, and took nearly an entire hour to be a girl in the bathroom while transforming into a naked dancing fool in a house to myself.

And I still have my smile. Any tiny recollection of any part of my day is turning up my cheeks and bearing teeth at this hour. I know I'm living a priviledged life. Somehow I had forgotten to take joy in it and have to fight to be pleasant in every day... but...
TODAY I found my Smile.
And I Feel Good.

Monday, November 07, 2005

This Monday Morning

Here's the thing... we had this monster project that had me here until 10pm every night the last two weeks of September and we've all been trying to catch up from that all October... and we kinda did by the last week and the whole department kinda took a deep breath and the work ethic let up. But I have only been here two months and am a temp at that so I am trying really really hard to make good impressions so I can get great recommendations when I apply for a permanent position. That won't be easy if they see I work great the first month and then sit on the work system and flirt all day after that =) I have lots of catch up to do since the rest of the 6 hours a day stuff was still coming to me the whole month I was dedicated to the monster... and with last weeks lax behavior my Friday personal deadline to clear my desk was a pipe dream.

So I am recommiting myself to my possible career this morning and every morning until the work gets done and promise that my social life is absolutely important but not my priority between 9am and 6pm. I do get a lunch break though ;)

--It is supremely hard to concentrate on filing and excel spreadsheets when you are getting social invites at 9am every day!!!! This is now my standard reply to all suitors who insist on badgering me via email with "hey, are you online?" followed by "I guess you can catch me later" and then a quick "I wanted to catch you this weekend; do you email on weekends?" Its a litany of one liners that fills up my inbox and creates the possibility of distraction from what was meant to be a productive morning!!! Boys... I'm at work - I don't bug you at work; leave me alone! I'll come say hi when I feel like it and that feeling is passing with every "Whats up".

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Saturday Night Ramblings

This is what happens when you check your email semi-late on a weekend night and get a "hey, how is your weekend going?" email from a girlfriend. Be forwarned...

Oh, and can anyone let me know how to find pictures, copy them, and enter them here?? Carry on, ...

Oh, got an email from Mr. Customer Survey. It was Wednesday sometime and along the lines of "guess I still suck at this; had a good time; guess bye then." Well, I guess some of the steam from my redheaded evening was lingering and transformed into anger because I let him HAVE IT! I don't remember all of it but it was kinda "you sure are arrogant to think that I would take off to a Halloween party (lie, but whatever, he caught me on IM) and have the energy or wits about me to partake in a survey... I told you I'd make it thoughtful so here are my thoughts... you need self confidence. You won't get it living with your mom. There are things in this world worse than roomates and they will give you tips on how to smile at a girl when she walks up to you - or any time in the next two hours you are with her." The reply back was "I'm a dork. I didn't see 40 Yr Old Virgin b/c I thought it would hit too close to home, just like your email did. I was just hoping to grope you this weekend. Damn weak facial muscles (actual last line)" Um, yeah. Not training that one!!

You heard about Big Red... for some reason it took two days for me to get that it wasn't about me at all. I wanted to be his friend and talk (well, email) and see how it was going but by the time Thursday morning came around I just sent a reply to whatever it was that "its cool... you know how to reach me whenever you want. Have a fantastic day". Not expecting anything from him before Christmas ;)

Its now Saturday night and my roomate just came home with a date. he reaks of cologne - that one kind that guys wear because it smells like them but more alcholic. And the dose... they just got out of the car together, why in Bobo's name would you walk out of a car and do that to yourself?? After hearing the conversation about how they would take off to get more red wine followed by that distinct I-finally-got-the-nerve-to-kiss-her pause - from the couch where I was trying to get in all my Tivo shows, I decide to take my evening upstairs. The afternoon alcohol has worn off, I've watched the movie I planned to, and really I shouldn't continue these late nights as the day job is starting to suffer. Well, they moved to the back porch where I can hear everything from my bedroom window and my not so subtle jesture of going upstairs was refused just as well as my wave through the window that it was TOO LOUD for 12:30 in the backyard. Stereo in the garage. Speaker straight out the door. She's deaf. And its not Mariah Carey but some rediculously whiney other wanna be sultry screech monkey.

She told me how it happened. She forgot her wallet and her car was half way through the car wash and this guy behind her picks up her tab. Why?? oh, shes blonde with a sqeeky laugh who flips her hair and doesn't realize until after the fact that she's forgotten her wallet!!!! oh, and 30 but tells people she's 25 and they buy it so she's had TWO 23 yr old b/f contenders since I've been here, one of whom was nuzzled up with her on the couch when I came home on um TUESDAY. She gives her card so he can tell her where and when to pay him back, he waives the fee and asks her out, she tells him to pick her up at the house for dinner in Malibu, and now they are here instead of some club.

And I decided not to be a lush and not have another tequila shot with my movie so I am fully awake after fighting the alcohol sleepies. And I can hear everything that is happening on their date!!

OK so I tell Big Sis (fave roomie who I share the upstairs and the bathroom with that is the mama bear of the house since she's the one who bought it with the ex-fiancee) that I didn't bring a boy over because I have a lot of roomates. She gave me the stern look of "you know that you can bring over whoever you want..." and I said "yeah, but I wasn't sure I wanted him here" and she said "well, you can use us as an exuse if you want to (big giggles and smiles had by all), but don't think you can't, OK?" Maybe she'll get the hint that I don't like her b/f here because of his booming voice and degrating 'baby' every three seconds and thank all things precious that she was on the rag the week he was proving she was important to him and would make the four block drive to her place for a change. Fortunately she is back on the sucked up on the boy phase and over there all day and night again. Really cuts in on my masterbation when there are others around, you know?? The point was that I am really considerate of others and that Miss In the Middle decides its ok to mack on whichever guy she has that night (not judging, just jealous) all over the house loudly and in public and then goes on to disturb the neighbors about it... I wish she would get back with the 1st 23 year old and stay at his place some more.

They just walked out - I'm gonna have a shot... want me to take one for you?? no huh. Oh, just the beer chaser?? Alrighty, see you in two min =)
Well, it was just him who left. No need to intoxicate myself into a coma. YEAH!!! EL YEAH!!! Gotta love cheeeeep rent folks, I tell ya. But I think I just talked myself out of a $1000 bender weekend in Vegas or a random $150 massage treatment or even the $500 I need a New Wardrobe romp... save cash. Put in account where it can grow. Feed it and nurture it and praise it and pet it and buy my own 2 br place in five years and NOT HAVE TO LISTEN TO ANYONE BUT ME KISSING IN MY HOUSE =) =) Well, the dog will lick her ass, but...

Last night I came home and picked up the dog and drove straight back toward work to pick up take out mexican. Blah beans but the enchilada sauce was alright. I called my cousin in Reno while waiting and got a "hi, you didn't tell me you weren't coming!!! fine, I see how you are!" Um, ok, I don't know what your talking about. OH R I G H T my aunt drove from LA to Reno on a Thursday for a long weekend before she gets back to work at a real job after a year and a half and the cousin and I were hatching a plan as to how I could sneak in a trip for a party weekend. So when I found out it would mean taking three days off work, I ruled it out. And then the aunt calls me Monday - three days before departure - and asks if I don't like taking trips alone anymore; assures me I will hate the idea when I get older; asks me if I wanna go. Didn't even try to think outside her thick skull to win me over with 'don't you want to see the family? Got a trip right here for ya!' just straight to "I'ma ascrrrred to be in a car alone and no one else I know will go; I guess books on tape will cut it... =( =( " I could just imagine us at the gas station and be goin 'you want what???' oooohhhhh better... the conversation that day about how her car has been acting funny and we can get mine tuned up when we get back!!! hahahahahaha Um, no.
So I get this ration of kicked in the face via phone call and a quick recap of all the seriously retarded things my aunt has done since she got there (always the drama queen, its always the most important thing for her to be in your town) and a promise that after dinner she'll call me at home (still no luck flirting with the cell phone place guy enough to wave the cancelation of contract fees because the small company with big minutes doens't have a tower to reach the top of the moutain with signal) to hear about what happened in my week that got me so distracted I didn't work in a phone call to repeat that I in fact would not be in the car coming from CA.
This family is great isn't it?? I get three conversations about a trip from the aunt and an invite only when it would be impossible for me to do anything besides call in sick and give myself a five day weekend and four conversations about how I would do all the work to get there but the party would be great and oh I have to make all the outgoing calls to set it up so she can get away from the rugrats for a night and she never called me to discuss details but gives me an earful about me not changing the original plan and no one thought to ask if I had called for any reason at all (I Never call without some juicy tidbit - she's too busy for more than 5 min ever and I just don't get any dirt from her including the dates she was an hour from me for a full week a month ago).

Its been a monster of a week. There is a noticeable pendulum swing in my life pattern and this week was a social one. In fact I had to check my books to remember that is was less than a week ago I had nothing but wishful thinking about the cutie with the blue eyes at the phone place to work with... big big big week. Too much to handle when it all comes back on you like that... fun, exhausting, thought provoking, moral testing, talent finding, weight reducing (the roomies asked my secret - I said nervous stomach for a week - the blonde didn't get it), temper flaring, wish fulling, spine reinforcing few days that proved I am a woman who stands behind all the hot air she blows wind bagging over a glass of wine with the hypocritical roomies.
No regrets.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Gotta Love a Forward Button

I just recieved this from the inter office emailer version of spam... that stuff that fills up your inbox but you don't know its there until it cycles up amoungst the job requests and deadline updates.
I like it. It is similar to the paper copy with some similar messages about how women allow the men in their lives to treat them the way they do and to not blame others for what is happening in your life. The format is a little curt; however as a person who has come to feel secure with the addage 'everything happens for a reason' I am willing to take the timing as a bit of more-than-coincidental and read it carefully.

Dear Girls (from us guys)...Don't assume that guys won't care where you are, because we do.


It makes us feel SO secure to know that our girlfriends aren't off flirting with guys we've never heard of.


Also, don't talk about your ex-boyfriends.We never have, nor ever will respect or like them, nor do we want to hear about them.When you do, you're asking your boyfriend to be jealous.You're asking your boyfriend to lose trust.


On that, don't hump everything that walks into the room.We don't care if you talk to other guys.We don't care if you're friends with other guys.But when you're sitting next to us, and some random guy walks into the room and you jump up and tackle him, without even introducing us, yeah, it pisses us off.It doesn't help if you sit there and talk to him for ten minutes without even acknowledging the fact that we're still there.


Also, when we tell you you're pretty/ beautiful/ gorgeous/ cute/ stunning, we freaking mean it.Don't tell us we're wrong.We'll stop trying to convince you.The sexiest thing about a girl is confidence.


Yeah, you can quote me.


Don't be mad when we hold the door open.Smile and say "thank you."Let us pay for you.Don't "feel bad."We enjoy doing it.It's expected.Smile and say - everybody together now - "thank you."


Kiss us when no one's watching.If you kiss us when you know nobody's looking we'll be more impressed.


You don't have to get dressed up for us.If we're going out with you in the first place, you don't have to feel the need to wear the shortest skirt you have, put on every kind of makeup you own.We like you for WHO you are and not WHAT you are.


DONT flirt with guys when we're not around.We'll find out. Trust us.We have eyes everywhere.And when we find out, we're pissed.Not necessarily with the guys you flirted with, more-so with YOU.


Don't take everything we say seriously.Sarcasm is a beautiful thing. See the beauty in it.Don't get angry easily.


Stop using magazines/media as your bible.Don't talk about how hot Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, or Jesse McCartny is in front of us.It's boring, and we don't care.You have girlfriends for that.


Whatever happened to the word "handsome"?Why does everything have to be "hot/sexy"?I'd be utterly stunned by a girl who greeted me with "Heyhandsome!" instead of "Hey baby/ stud/ cutie/ sexy" or whatever else you can think of.But seriously sometimes looks ISNT everything alot guys who arent exactly "hot" will treat you the way you need to be treatedClaiming girls or guys to be "hot" shows immaturity.


Girls, I cannot stress this enough: IF YOU AREN'T BEING TREATED RIGHT BY A GUY, DON'T WAIT FOR HIM TO CHANGE. DITCH HIS SORRY, DISCRACE-TO-THE-MALE-POPULATION ASS, AND FIND SOMEONE WHO WILL TREAT YOU WITH UTTER RESPECT - Someone who will honor your morals. Someone who will make you smile when you're at your lowest. Someone who will stop what theyre doing just to look you in the eyes....and say "I love you" .......and actually mean it.

Give the nice guys a chance.

Sounds a little like the 30 year old guy who lives in the converted garage of his childhood home and continually watches girls go for the 'bad guys' on a second glancing over... or a girl who is sick of getting 2:30am calls from a girlfriend in distress over the lack of great men and passed it on like a chained forward. Its cool though; its a nice reminder to us single gals that we are not being cold or bitter or high mantainance - just that we refuse to compromise ourselves for the sake of some guy.

Note to Self

When your sitting stewing in your thoughts its not a good idea to keep a cold beer in your hand the Whole time.
Switch to water at some point.
Don't think email is any different than calling or texting - its still part way into the middle of the night and all the beer bottles in the trash this morning were yours no matter how much you think the roomies may have helped out and it is just like drunk dialing in the morning and the apologies will have to be made no matter the communication venue chosen.
Thanks the karmic gods that you don't have every email address you ever wanted and that your phone won't let you call or text at that time of night without driving for miles. Stupid cell phone.
Buy more beer on the way home along with B vitamin complex, fresh anything to snack on, and sushi platter that will make the roomies cringe but you will think is $8 worth of awsome.
Add two sugars to the sludge of a cup of coffee at work every time - you'll regret it at your desk if you don't. And work at your desk for a change, not just stir the coffee so you can get up for a refill and see who else is away from their desk.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005


You know when you daydream about something? That far off in the distance fantasy kind of daydream? The kind that is so perfect because it could be real but it never will be real and THAT makes you able to live in a constant state of semi-reality with your daydream constantly rolling like credits across any new sensory stimulus? How you're sure it never happened but on looking back to when it was a constant part of your day you just can't remember anything else but the daydream??

The entire year I had one of those. And it came to life last night. And it was absolutely spellbindingly appropriately sophisticatedly simply perfectly marvelously a spectacularly wonderful actualization of a non-planned spur of the moment whim of a chance encounter that started with an off the cuff comment and escalated in three days and thirty three emails to the actualization of all two intelligent and bored to distracting each other with flirting winks and walking too close in the hallway people can imagine to do with each other after two beers and an out clause in the new twilight hours that bestow this mountain town.

The best part... it was perfection. One hundred moments of the short evening have flashed before me, leaving my heart quicken and my feet twitching and my face tingling and my loins hot and my fingers cold and most of them were mental shots of him across the table from me.

The one that got me to close my eyes and be right with that memory was the kiss. There was no nervous what if buildup that even familiars can have. It was just me there and him there and my eyes closed to fully take in the scent of his skin and the feel of his lips and there was that undeniable connection of desire revealed at the exact moment of satiation. No slobber, no bad breath, no tongues even; no movement at all but the soft breeze in the trees and in my hair with the faintest whisper of a breath between us.
He realized what he was doing and it all changed before I could realize that a kiss can be a full body effort. I stood with my hands behind my back holding my purse and understood what love songs are made of; 16th century prose was inspired by; how aching can be an appropriate description of a state of the heart; how courting is the most despicably lost art; how dreaming has been elevated to my most important To Do of any day ever; instantly I knew that expectation would never be mine again while I was shocked with the notion that I could never want anything more than to have the perfection of that moment realized in every aspect of my life at least a dozen times a year.

And he is riddled with guilt today. As flitty and jovial and boyant I was this morning about the entire affair, I am now wretchedly overcome with longing that the kiss would have been the end of the evening. The rest had been unavoidable at the time and a divine reflection of the daydream that had carried me through so many days but in this moment I fear that I may never see him again in any setting and that our expression of want and lust and his ego boost and mine will be tarnished more on every rememberance and that he may never see the evening as I am sure to forever. It will remain unscathed on a pedastool away from the rest as an icon of my romanticism come alive and rewarded boundlessly and I will be abundently thankful to him for solidifying in me this part of my character that I have been trying to snuff out.

Tenderly weeping I leave this day... to go to the comforts of my newly adopted home and shower away the pangs of resentment that this was the only possible way to have my most perfect and undoubtably most fleeting romance... for next time we meet, if ever, this evenings weight will join us along with his satchel of self hate and it will not ever be more haloed. No regrets.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

What I can live on

Four months ago I found out that you can actually only eat frozen dinners, including Hot Pockets, as a diet plan but that you will not actually loose weight like the box tells you. Maybe its because of the beer I was drinking. Or the screwdrivers.

Two months ago I repeated likea montra "if a girl could live on compliments alone" when I was being showered hourly with how great a worker I was and how smart I am and how they appreciate me (I put papers in number order people; but it was flattering anyway).

A month ago I was regressing to the point in one's life when you figure "if I have $10, I would rather buy drinks than dinner" and actually didn't eat an evening meal for ten days straight. Again, the liquid diet does not garuntee wieght loss.

And today I am realizing that all these were stupid because I was still eating or drinking calories... I was living off a different version of ingestables. I realized this when it hit 2pm and I had ingested nothing but a normal sized, normal brew cup of coffee and normal sized cup of light OJ (roomies, gotta love them). That was in the 9am hour. Typically I can deal with that until 10:30 or 11 before I snack or graze or devour something. Today I can honestly say I lived off flirting until I was gonna pass out from adrenyline overload - oh, and no blood in my extremities and a heart rate above 300 bpm for 5 hours straight.

I've been sitting most of the day but emailing my redhead who got the ok from the g/f to act out his fantasies that she is 'too chicken' (his words) and working out if and when and what will happen when and if we meet up for drinks (he moved it from next Monday to Thursday to tonight); meanwhile I stole the cuties phone number from my cell place when he called my phone to check service and asked if his blues were natural or contacts and since he is a young (bar legal but apparently barely) and a guy we've been hashing over what may happen if he meets me outside the office.

The best part about it is... wait... its so great I need to clear my throat and wipe my eye... ... I'm not craving alcohol, sugar, baked goods, ice cream, chocolate, or a blanket to curl up under like all the other things I thought I could live off of. =) . =) . =) . I have been existing strictly on the nervous stomach, butterflies, and anticipation of being desired for the entire day to the point of staring down a deli menu and only taking a cup (not bowl) of soup and a fruit cup.

Take that Jenny Craig.

If this keeps up it will barely be Christmas and I'll be ready for a whole new wardrobe =) Who needs solid food anyway??