way too much blogging- 79... till I got no mo'.

Honestly who blogs this much? I am professionally worthless today. Why? Because I'm unhappy. Which brings me to...

79. I work out harder when I am troubled.
78. It's harder to work out when I am happy.
77. I should not drink when I am angry... because you will hear about it.
76. I should not drink when I am sad... I might cry, unless you make me laugh... Then I might cry because I miss Madigan.
75. I have grown into a person who is able to let go of people who are not good to/for me.
74. Sometimes that still hurts.
73. I haven't written besides journaling in almost a year. Instead I shove things I write on scraps or put pen to what is put on my laptop in Arc... thinking I will come back to it later.
72. I have never given my sister the book of my poetry she asked for-
because: a) it isn't finished b) it will never be finished c) because every time I open it I am tempted to change things. and I think my writing young... and though I can see the progression... I still think some of it is just too bad for another person to read.

*now she won't get it because I don't foresee a need to speak to her for a good long time*

71. I have trusted some of the wrongest people with my words.
70. I am a snob when it comes to literature and I secretly turn up my nose at people who buy books in the grocery store and only read James Patterson or romance novels. they are not real books to me.
69. I don't like people.
68. I lie. I like them in THEORY... but usually not in practice. In living color and large groups then general population are a bunch of a**holes.
67. I stopped bar tending when I came to # 69 and 68.
66. Obviously I like some people.
65. Pot roast is my favorite food. ever.
64. I can't stand blind forwards and chain emails. If you email me enough dumb sh*t I will stop reading anything you send me.
63. ***I take this one back because it involves the life of an innocent child***
62. I would still be there for her (Pretty Camel) if she needed something.
61. I want to say the same for Madigan, but I defended her bad behavior for too long. Today I have deleted her from my friend list.
60. In some ways I am like my mother.
59. Not all of them are good.
58. Christmas chocolate still makes me happy, even if I don't eat it.
56. Dream Killer lied to me about not getting grades yet. They've been posted for 2 weeks and I know how he did. But I will let him think I believe the lie.
55. I hate watching ballets with anyone who knew me when I danced. I will never be in that kind of shape again. To try would be the advent of cortisone shots. and people say dumb sh*t like "what if?"
54. I don't believe in can't. I am not a natural runner, so I am training with a sprinter. My stamina was sporadic but short over consistent spans of time... solution? circuit training. I am going to be more flexible than I am now... yoga.
53. I still don't bow in yoga.
52. I took my thimble with me on vacation because I did not want to risk the chance of someone else touching it.

that's all I got for now.

Indian Giver & 80-90

The problem with giving people close to you access to your blog is that they feel entitled to an opinion. Which they are. However, they also feel entitled to expressing their opinion; which they can. Further, they feel entitled to a rejoinder to emails about what they've read. Like I really need to explain myself more than I already do.

Here we go, and I'm not doing this again- so don't ask.

Follow up... or background to insight on why Shy is dropped into the slot he is in.

Once upon a time I worked in retail. It was commission based and highly competitive. I was one of 2 females, and the boys were ruthless. I did well but I hated the hours. That was how I met Mentor. We talked about something stupid, had coffee... then consistent coffees... and somehow she became more of an older sister to me then my own. I admire and respect her greatly. She rocks like few people I have ever seen. She is what I want to be.

Intro Boogie Man. It is a shame he was psycho because his entrance was flawless. I told her about him when we met, she mentioned she knew him. He happened to stop in the coffee shop I frequented and they regarded each other. Something passed between them over my head. He sat and she left. She didn't mention it again. He totally trashed her.

Fast forward to Mr. Boogie showing his whole bum complete with break up letter stained with tears left on my car windshield (after 2 whole weeks). Mentor and I had a whole lunch surrounding the reading of the letter... there was wine involved so we read it multiple times. She then told me that he graduated from law school a little after her and they knew of each other. There was much scandal associated with his name and he'd managed to alienate almost everyone in his year... which is quite a feat. She said her interactions with him had always been strained and maybe he was wonderful but she'd never seen that side of him.

What he said of her was quite different. I told her why I'd decided he wasn't for me and asked why she'd not said anything beyond "be careful, he is a bit older, I am here for you when you need to talk". She said because she loved me like a little sister, but somethings I had to come to on my own... but she would have said something before it got really bad.

But why the pre-emptive trash talk on his end? Did you think she would say something first? Insecurity? Do you like the sound of your own voice?

Think about it, why would he feel the need to break someone down in my eyes? Everyone who knows me, knows I adore her. To take a shot when you wouldn't say it to her, says you are taking the shot at my opinion and not really her.

Move to Shy. Yesterday he calls to shoot the sh*t. He talks about various people and their indiscretions. People we have in common. Little J whom I know because her dad is creepy and hit on me. Her mom is epitome of a gracious lady and Bama I think she married Creepy as her one drunkard night ever. Little J is sweet. I don't know her well, but I will speak to anyone who speaks to me. I have no issues with her and I don't care how many guys she has boinked nor how many at a time.

So why does Shy feel the need to move through the gambit of people he has seen me speak to and air their dirty laundry? It stands to be reasoned and makes him a questionable "friend" to have. Again this is most unfortunate because I saw a lot of great stuff in him. The more I turn it over, and am honest with myself. It was not potential. He has hit the product he will be. He is whole in the sense of this is was it will be. It's not a bad thing, it just is. And the biggest reason his shooting his mouth of is a potential liability is 2 fold. 1. Mommiey says that people who gossip to you will be a gossip of you. and 2. He is adamant that it is something he does not do, and yet he does it consistently.

Over analytical ick.... Now for 81-90

80. Indian dance- Bharat Natyam & Khatak are the only forms of dance I am formally trained in. I did it but taught by people not formal teachers. My 1st formal teacher slapped my hands because I was 3 and it took me a while to get it right. I walked out because I was insulted. Partially because she was white, and I felt like she was a guest in my culture anyway.

81. I don't like fake nails. I don't like the way they feel, I don't like the way they look, I don't like them.
82. I learned the violin and the piano... and don't play either now.
83. Piano was hard for me, because I could not cover my mistakes. If I made a mistake, I stopped.
84. I can cross stitch and sew buttons but not sew for real... I tried to learn crocheting... but I don't have the patience for it.
85. Coppelia was the 1st ballet I ever saw... I cried.
86. I also cried in Swan Lake
87. La Triviata was the 1st opera I ever saw.... The girl took 1/2 an hour to die and I wanted to throw my shoe at her.
88. Cats was my (and everyone else's) 1st musical... Victoria (the all white one) is my favorite. She doesn't sing, she never speaks, but she is by far the most beautiful.
89. I love the Yankees... and A.Rod over Jeter
90. I have got to stop watching Hindi movies... the mushy sentimentality and ideal romanticism is starting to get to me.

Big post. Bye bye.

91-100

100 things about me.

You've seen it, lots of people blog it. And yet, as much as we all love Kiran... even I know at 100 all at once is a bit much. So we will split them up. (Does this look like an attempt to buy time to think of more things to make me sound interesting? Maybe.)

100. I once accidently bought a car on Ebay. In Canada even. But it was a stick.
99. I can not drive a stick.
98. No one I know that drives a stick trusts me enough to teach me using their car.
97. Enough about the stick.
96. I have adored Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennet since I was in Kindergarten. During my 1st international flight my mom made me listen to music to relieve the pressure in my ears. I would listen for the lengh of one side of a tape then she would put hot damp towels in the earphones for a while. Then I got to listen to the other side. It works well for fussy children.
95. I am laughing at myself for how much I like Michael Buble.
94. I call him Bubble. Even though I know it's wrong.
93. I get really hot or really cold very fast. It is disconcerting because I think that so much about me are extremes. including my Idealism.
92. I go to sleep with socks on almost every night.
91. I wake up with no socks on almost every morning.

that was a bit less painless than expected. Stay tuned for the next installment.

I am so alarmed at the things that amuse me.

Courtesy of ONE who knows me too well ;) biiiiiiig hugs.

Love,
La La

The Hand of Something Bigger Than Me.

Despite my situation that wrecked my world for about 3 years, and still makes me look over my shoulder... I have heard the nicest thing about myself. My few friends whom I have curled up next to have marveled at the outlook I still have on people. But sometimes I still think I am getting this wrong.

Vacation with my family ended with me being so angry at my sister I could spit. I am embarrassed and ashamed that she is related to me, and I do not respect her. This is a new state of being. I have the capacity to go from 0-60 in 2.5 flat and struggled to keep my temper in check. But I can say there was only one mini blow out and never in front of the rest of my family nor in public. I hate that I consider this an accomplishment. I kept most of my words and anger in check. But this morning before I left the house, I said my prayers and asked to be helped with not becoming an angry bitter being. To have more patience, find where I am supposed to be, and carry it with the grace of a full grown lady. Turning it over I feel very small... because I am blessed to the point that I am protected... even from myself.

At last night's ball was an older gentleman in a Tux. Not overly special, there were many. But he was a waiter. and I had met him at least a year and a half ago, and he was not so well dressed. He remembered I offered him my breakfast and kissed my cheek that I cleaned up well in a ball gown.

I know the time frame because I still had my townhouse. and I was still getting flat tires. They were many and somehow the last time, Dream Killer or I had put my hydrolic jack in his trunk and not mine. On my way to school at 7 I got yet another flat on a very busy street near my house. I am trying to figure out a manuel jack and willing myself not to cry because I was frustrated that it was so hard.

He pulled up on the shoulder and said Jesus had told him to stop. and I asked if Jesus also told him how to work my jack. He was a bit strange but I was never so happy to see anyone. He changed my tire. I was so grateful but as I don't carry cash I had nothing to give him. I offered him my breakfast which was either a muffin or a bagel and gentleman that he was, he refused. He said he had a wife and a daughter and he would hope someone would help them if they were in my position.

Today I rememer that I have to have faith in people. Because there has never been a day in my life that I did not know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am loved. Neither was there a single instance when I've been stranded on a road, interstate, or anywhere and people did not stop and offer help. Never. and that humbles even me. and I am reminded that I am supposed to be better than the anger. and we get what we give even if it is not from the place we are looking for it. The luck I have says I don't need to gamble.

Catch up blog- part III. "That is the 1st lie you have ever told me"

Apparently today is the day of blogging. Perhaps there will be a movement to have it be a whole Holiday.

As the 1st post of the day was courtesy of Shy so is this one... and while he says it; today it also applies to him.

Let me preface this by saying that I am not going to address this with him. I hope the people closest to me would be as wonderful as I imagine they are... and with all people you give them the benefit of the doubt and enough rope to hang themselves. I don't like that he felt the need to lie to me, it is a stupid thing that he lied about, but his stock is effectively worthless. We will play nice because he has the connections that I need, but we manage the risk he has potential to present a little differently.

If you've read older posts you will remember that we sorted out a pseudo-crush on trainer... The only people I told (that are in my city- those not here are privy to info via blog on everything that you cannot smack me with :) were Bat-Girl and Bunkles... Darling Ricky butted into a conversation and felt the need to weigh in. It was quickly sorted out, and that was a wrap. Now we have Lemon crushes.

Fast forward to Shy feels the need to bring me gossip about Daydream's extra-curricular activities. I remain unaffected. He brings it to David's Bunny. She and I are hella cool. He says that Daydream is trying to date her... then he is dating her. I didn't and have never asked. Not her, not him, not Shy. Perhaps I am too self-absorbed to be concerned with what does not concern me.

The problem that Shy did not foresee is that, again, David's Bunny and I are hella cool. I know her through David the Magnificent Weirdo... and while he speaks superficially, I've known her longer and better, and we have far more people in common. It is a matter of time that she and David are no longer speaking... please see the aforementioned "He is a weirdo". So Daydream missed a couple of days at the gym and his cult female following had a sh*t fit. They asked Bunny and I what happened, etc. etc. and we look at each other like "How would we know?" I follow him around at the gym... yes he trains me for free... I'm not trying to be any one's notch. The answer we got was because he calls me Beautiful and will say it in front of anyone. Bunny because she is awesomely (sp?) attractive.

So she calls me later to laugh about the fact that everyone is under the impression that they are sleeping together and she has never talked to him. Know where that came from? That's right, out of the mouth of Shy. How do I know that it was not Daydream? To be fair, I don't. But to lie would mean that Bunny would never speak to him for the stigma attached to him. I assume he knows this, but I certainly would not be the one to tell him.

But Shy talks. a lot. Initially, he stressed how much he kept my name out of his mouth when talking with other people. If people ask, his standard answer was they should ask me. That has changed. He is now my biggest cheerleader. But I wonder at what cost and how to define the slot we are to drop him into.

On to the reason we are posting this NOW. Bunny calls to see how vacation was, to tell me about a fantastic party I missed, that she saw David at said party, and to ask about last night's ball. She was messed up about the Weirdo for a minute... as we talk (I tried to make her go to the bloody ball... but Nugget said I was not allowed to arrange dates for his brothers) she mentions she thinks one of Nugget's brother's is cute but the Weirdo grew up with them and may present problems. I am the solution.

The Weirdo and I do not cut words with each other. It was uncomfortable at 1st but has grown into a mutual respect. Weirdo never put it out there... dating any one he knows cannot be construed as disrespectful. If he had icky feelings he had a long a** time to say something. Nugget's brother will entertain anyone I ask him to... at least for an evening. He knows her... Bunny asks me to feel him out for her.

Summation.... no daydream for Bunny. Not past, not present. Who knows what the future holds... but that translates into Shy talking sh*t that he didn't know... which he swears he does not do. and that is unfortunate.

Zidane was framed!

This goes up because 1.) Zidane is still incredibly hot... and 2.) I love it. Not just the commercial but the idea of it. I should like to do that in my goofy city. Dump soccer balls out my window... and not just to peg the contruction workers... but to watch grown people play; in suits nonetheless.

"You know most writers are a**holes, right?"

The quote is courtesy of Shy. It is quite old but it is today's 1st entry because it makes me laugh.

One of my absolute favourite writers (apparently I am left over English from last night- but that is to be a later post) is the magical, mystical, mythically proportionate (get it? of mythic proportions... it was supposed to be clever. whatever) is Michael Ondaatje. Our affair began with Anil's Ghost... and it was the first time I saw something close to my experience put to page.

Later it was The English patient... which I've never finished because I lost it... but I did not want the replacement book with the movie poster as a cover. I think it trite and not a fitting representation of the beauty the book holds. To date I remember the shivers I got from Handwriting. Reading it made my own poetry grow in a way I could not have ever come to by myself. Poetry sounded different in his words beyond the classical Yeats and Byron... it seemed a more natural way of speaking... he writes in such a way that lulls you into following him blindly... and stuns you with his last words. You don't understand the point until it is made... and though you have had all of the pieces all along... you feel like a child that has been shown the most wonderful magic trick with your own toys.

Save the English Patient, I have (and hoard) everything that has his name attached to it... including the awful book that critiques his major writings and seeks to explain his themes. But I had to read that to.

The most recent acquisition of his is "Our Story"... the illustrated version that was done has an offering from which the proceeds support literacy in Canada. When the package came I guarded it like my first born. Mom was laughing at me over breakfast one Saturday... and I am reminded that she loves me like a mother does, as the words that came out of her mouth were... "If you like him so much, you know he taught or teaches at the University of Toronto... why don't we take a trip (we have family there) and you can meet him and tell him how much you admire him? or try a semester in Toronto, take stupid classes that interest you."

Ummm... no.

1. I will sound like a groupie (not completely opposed to)

2. I may not make the best impression and possibly sound like an idiot (not a completely foreign state of being for this girl)

3. He may not be so impressive in person... which he should have the freedom not to be.

The reason books are better than movies... and certainly more intense is that it is where the world is wrapped in some one's words but still of our own conceptions. Someone once told me that you don't know what your work is or has the potential to do until you hear it explained to you by someone else. I understand that.

I know the place I write from. I know what brings me to certain points. While I may not give you the same words verbatim... I can create the same concept. I know what I meant. But it is so selfish to expect to be taken at your own perception. The re-write from my end is the endless re-play of trying to figure out how I meant something to sound. I have written things that I didn't know how to deal with and I think I would be too devastated to know that Mr. Ondaatje's points of emphasis were not the bits that I carry with me. I would be to insulted to think that maybe I got it wrong. Like people who write of love so well... but only because they covet and watch it pressed against the glass... not because they know how to give of themselves with another person. In print we are all heros.

Further, how tragic to be seen as simpering... especially to one of the keepers of the most beautiful words... so today like other days, I wait at his feet for the next offerings he will give me.. and even that is too much.

Rare form.

I should not be blogging... I should be working... I will get back to being on desk arrest in a minute... in the meantime something bears being conveyed. This is honestly too great.

So we have established that sometimes certain people should just not talk. I mean no sign language, nothing. They should be banned from communicating with other beings. To illustrate my point... the always entertaining Dream Killer.

Mr. track and field athlete who still has a gi-normous framed poster of himself at Penn Relays ran in college and has not worked out save the few times he has tagged along with me to the lakes or the one time he tried my Yoga class. I don't why he feels the need to shoot his mouth off, but he does. He finished finals on Friday and was sick over the weekend, so Monday was the 1st minute he suddenly had nothing to do. Monday I had to tell him that I need him to get a hobby... because if he calls me one more time I'm going to kill him. He thought I was joking... he does not know that I have a culling song. again, I digress.

So he asked if I was going to the gym after work and of course I ask if he has met me. He mouths off about how I work out like a girl and whatever I do would be like a warm-up or a cool down to him. I say, "really? come with it." so he does.

I kid you not... 10 minutes maybe. One round of circuit training and he gave it up to a bush (meaning he got sick). Nice. So you (like I) are probably thinking he has learned his lesson, I do not need to rub it in from now on he will behave himself. No, no that is not what happened. In the car as I am dropping him off he says "If you kept your head up you could breath better when you are running, you wouldn't get so winded and you could probably run faster."

I give him an EDS. he says "WHAT?! I'm a runner, you know I watch form."

No khuti you WERE a runner, now you are irritating and never going to gym with me ever again.

But none of that says why I had to tell you all about it NOW... Because I just got a text message that says his legs are SOOOOOOOOO sore. and wow. but really? and again he just should not speak.

...is a funny thing.

Wanted to put that out there... will make it pretty after yoga. ciao.

$10 says this gets worse before it gets better.

A truth that I have long recognized in myself is that I grieve for other people's hurt. How poignant it is that just last week Bianca and I were talking about the Indian girl in my building- I think she is precious... and Bianca scowled and stopped me mid-sentence to say "You cannot save her." to which I say, "I know, but..." and Bianca repeated it again. And while I know she is right, I still want Priya to stand up for herself... and I want to give her the tools to succeed in her world... and I am humbled that she looks at me as this larger than life creature when I know the dork that I am. B tells me that I cannot save every puppy, and I know that... but that doesn't mean we don't try...

Case in point... Ms. Bianca. Follow up from former post... she calls me and asks what Bunkles said about her... and I am confused. I don't remember a recent conversation with him about her... he just got back from NY and all we talked about was NY and the laundry girl... She says "You know I am in a bad place... I just need to hear it, so I asked him if he thought I was pretty and he says I should ask you. He won't talk to me."

And good job to Bunkles for thinking with the right head. The answer she got was just what he says "the butt, the walk, he thinks you are ridiculously hot and beautiful etc. etc." Again, it was honest and it was better for Bunkles not to say it- as he is trying to be in a fair relationship and good to the laundry girl... but bad for Bianca to ask... she knows all about his reputation and the phenomenon among women that he apparently is. And if the eyes are the window to the soul, I want to close mine to the potential that Bianca's new-found insecurity has. Because I don't know how to make her stop the slide or transition as it were to a bit of a... how shall we say... ok well damn... a bitch in heat.

Which is terrible because I don't want to judge her. I have done things that don't look so good on paper... but I don't regret it... and I guess I don't know it to be any different. except that it wouldn't be just anybody, and not for a validation. or maybe just not this time.

wow. Bianca head-ache part II.

... in transit.

Something is changing. Actually lots of things are changing. This is scary because it feels like something you (or I) can actually see. Yet the only thing that is changing is my perspective albeit it does feel like a shift.

I hear a lot of the m-word and it makes me nauseous. But I wonder if the right person would change that. Maybe as an abstract it is scary but to put a face to it would be different?

Bianca worries me. Dinner is tomorrow at her house and this morning she calls to ask what I am not supposed to eat. and I say "excuse me?" and she says "I know you are not allowed to have salt and something else... but I can't remember what you are not allowed to have..." My friends have GOT to stop talking to each other. (right now ice cream is not my friend- or milk- or fried anything)

I digress... in talking to her she saw or is seeing or still seeing a doctor she met another day that we had lunch. He spent most of that lunch drooling so it was only a matter of time before he walked over and introduced himself. I think he's a douche but I will keep that to myself for now because she really needs him to like her. She is getting over an invasive surgery and doesn't feel pretty. We can all relate... except that in her case it is ludicrous (yeah mike) because she is gorgeous.

I say douche because he casually drops into conversation that he is a doc and has a Mercedes. also he has lots of friends who are attys. Bianca has a law degree and is 1 part away from passing the bar. I want her to have a doc or a lawyer or someone worthy of her... but with money plus personality. and I don't think he was cute enough to be THAT arrogant. So they talk on the phone... she mentions she is recovering from a procedure... his response is akin to sporadic texts a few conversations... but basically "I'm feeling out someone else... call me when you are better and I'll put you back in the running for my time" again... this girl says WTF. But there is no polite way to say it. Bianca sees it but chooses not to.

When I visited her at home with soup, she mentioned she'd talked to the dream-killer. They have much in common and between them I don't get a word in edge wise. She says it is refreshing to talk to someone that you want to talk to... So why do we spend time talking to people that we don't want to talk to? back to the f*cked up validation. I want her to recognize that there is better... and yet not even I have it to show her.

There are the days that we talk about this or anything... and she tries to talk about me, and I am getting better at deflecting... but what do you say to someone who asks from the vantage point of love "You are so beautiful, why are you still single?" as if being called beautiful and single is a huge billboard that something is wrong with you.

She says that if I don't let go of the "americanisms" in me, I will end up like every other single american 30 something woman, alone. since when does alone = unhappy. and I know me, and I like me. As I am not traditional in every respect, I don't want traditional just because.

ahhh...today Bianca makes my head hurt.

The Advent of Bird Flu.

It seem like we are doing this quite often, doesn't it, boys and girls? No, the last time was right before going to Columbus. While the time line is approximately the end of the year I am going to take this as a "NO". and it is heart-breaking.

As I sit here amongst my paper-shackles I want to cry. No I didn't think life after school would be easy (F*ck work and school was not easy) but I did sort of see an accomplishment with the stupid degree... now I can't seem to clear the next hurdle.

But neither can I stay here. I have no illusions about the way Louisiana is seen in any "market" that matters. Which is why staying with said company at least look semi-decent on paper. But maybe I am not properly selling that.... or maybe I am not properly selling me.... or maybe I am not the asset I have strived to be seen as... or maybe the world only rewards idiocy. I don't know.

Boss-lady says to take a day and regroup. make a list, weigh options, do everything and nothing for a minute. So that is what tomorrow will be.

Big girl. no tears. in other news... lemon is not taking well to be dropped. he is bucking and is willing to take to the drive to bring me a present. I like presents. he may have feelings. I don't like feelings. or to be fair- I don't understand them. mushy ick.

OMG! I really am the Baby...

...and I have the lotion to prove it.

I will set this one as quickly as possible. The basic premise...I don't understand how Kris is such a sh*tty mom. Especially since we came from the same house and I cannot explain the awesome love that my mom is. She is a fan-freakin-tastic mom.... and yet she does not read my blog... the Internet still scares her... but so does the digital camera. The only reason she uses it now is because it chirps like a bird when you turn it on.... but I digress.

Sunday, I promised to have lunch w/her and my grams and then take them shopping. We have to stop at Target 1st so I will print her pics... the Kodak machine makes her nervous. Grams and I edit, crop, and print. We find a snack for Mouse (grams) and look for mom. She is in a cashier's line and has managed to spend $70 in 3 minutes.... WTF? My mouse whispers in my ear..."She shops like you gamble (I don't gamble... I don't know what I'm doing and it is a bit to obvious... she refers to the time I lost $30 in like 5 min and I didn't fully know how)... but at least she comes home with crap".

Mouse has jokes.

I try to look in the bags and mom snatches them. I try to look at the receipt to see what she bought... she snatched that too. It is uber important I find out what she bought... Mouse and I had a bet. Since she wouldn't let me see, I assume it is for me. Mom shows me everything she buys.

I don't get to see what was in the bag until later. Before I tell you what it is... let me preface... Mom travels a lot, I pick her up from the airport. I don't let any of my friends ride with me because for the longest time she hopped off the plane and greeted me with 6 things

1. you are not eating right

2. you are exercising enough
3. you are not drinking enough water

4. you are not sleeping enough

5. you are not wearing sunscreen consistently

6. your make up looks like sh*t

Then one day we had to tell her the next time she did that... she'd be calling a cab. amazingly she stopped.

On to the Target bag... as I am unloading bags... she says "I meant to put it together in a basket... but you wouldn't get it until later in the week and you need it now".

It was everything my skin needs in winter. Gold bond lotion so I can stop itching through my clothes, baby cream for my face because nothing is moisturizing enough in the winter and I get a funky almost breakout with out actual zits and it's rough and dry and bad, and baby soap for me to wash in, dove cloths to take to the gym, and a little bag for all the stuff. (no that wasn't worth $70... she bought some extras for her and grams). and I am blessed and grateful to have the mommiey that I do. and I don't understand how my sister completely sucks at it.

Lemon Drop

You will remember that we (again... that means I) were only allowed to entertain Lemon until he developed "feelings". Does it sound like I consider that a bad word? Perhaps the place I am in says it is.

We are close to pulling the rip cord. Technically he did not say he had feelings... but yesterday he hinted at taking the drive here to surprise me... maybe open a bottle of wine... maybe "talk"... though I did not think him serious I said that would not work for me as I already had plans (which I did).

He translates into I have a date. He says he has to get off the phone because he has to go and work on his 'perspective'. er? He calls back and asks for the specifics of my 'date', to which I say I have no such thing. Drinks with a friend is not a date. He says... "Have you met you? I promise whoever he is thinks this is a date" and he peppers his monologue with "Not to sound like the jealous boyfriend, because I'm not jealous.... because I realize that I have no right..."

Right.

So entitlement aside this fictional non-jealous boyfriend is starting to make frequent apperances. "Why did't you answer your phone at wk? I called you like 3 times and the women in your office are going to think I'm a psycho stalker"... I admit he is a little OCD, but sometimes it is like he is on the brink of putting into meaningful words what only comes out as cliches... but I don't think I've expounded on the full myspace experience; as he refers to it.

One day he needed help... he called me freaking out... he called the next day, same problem, same person, he gave me a bad affidavit... eventually he transfered the whole problem to me and I got to take care of it. I called back to "thank" him for giving me his problem. The next day he calls back to say thank you. Fast forward to another day he calls just to say "hi". Somewhere in there I looked forward to talking to him.

Now we talk all the time. He text messages me, he calls me, he emails me... and I him (not trying to make this one sided). Bunkles says it's wierd... in fact he says WIERD the way Joey Lawrence used to say WHOA on Blossom. (I'll give the younguns a minute to look it up on youtube)

but he is sweet and he speaks Kiran and I love that there is so much that I don't have to explain to him. and I've never seen him. Not to say I don't want to... I wouldn't mind...but there is just something about driving an hour to "meet" someone you've only "known" across fiber optics that just sounds ... well pathetic. and I would argue this is different.. but is it really? I have options here, I do. Granted none of them fit me and I have yet to meet someone here who makes me not want to be single anymore... but he is a little to far to freak out.

and then there is the point of knowing he is upset... and yet he won't talk about it... he just shuts down. and the problem here is that I am not the patient one to wait, nor to beg. If you don't want to talk about it, I will ask... maybe I will ask again. Then we walk. let me know how it works out... or don't. This is just a little too reminiscent of my very first post. I guess I do have re-occuring themes. Double ick.

I guess this is as good a time as any...

And now for the fact surrounding Columbus...

Rewind a couple of months ago when we (ummm... really I) applied and interviewed for what I thought was the perfect job in Phoenix... and we (again; see I) were treated to a brand new adjective to describe one's self.... "overqualified". WTF is that?!

So the way we dealt with it was to go back to the drawing board and get in touch with my HR business partner. Because my company sees fit to provide one for each of the slaves. So I call mine and discover she is fantastic. Smart, funny, witty, and above all privy to the inner- workings of the company I work for and insight on how to get the better job.

*You will note I do not have it yet*

She says the first thing is to find something that looks like it fits my "career path" to which I say... "No, no I'm pretty close to prostituting myself in a professional (see non-sexual way) for an obnoxious amount of money". She laughs ands says that does not look so good on paper. So we find what we want to do, tailor resume to look like a progression towards it, and then knock their socks off.

Whom? you may ask? everybody. Starting with my boss and every bigger boss I can get to. Basically I am to speak to every person who will speak to me. How is this going?.... ummm... good and bad days.

Which led to to the biggest boss-lady in my city and her bigger gorilla boss (see the king of pride rock). The lady has no education and said I should focus on climbing the ladder one rung at a time. (this made me want to vomit on the floor of her office).

The gorilla said 1. to look at outside firms because this one may not be in a position to compensate me for my obvious worth and ambition. (also made me want to vomit) and 2. if I chose to stay- to send him my resume in email form so he could drop my name in casual conversations. and 3. to apply for a analyst rotation program which would give me the oppurtunity to do all the fun stuff for a decent living wage.

I am stupid. I stayed. and have splashed the resume from here to kingdom come. I did send him my resume and he does try to pimp me, dunno what it is that keeps me still here. and the program... The last "class" created a time conflict of finishing school so we didn't go beyond the preliminary round.

The back up to all of this... law school in august. still a viable option. What frightens me is my lsat... having to take it again, knowing I cannot change my gpa and trying to make the most of what will be the most practical "real job" experience.

My contact at J&B says it would be infinetly smarter for me to take another year... and a prep course for the GMAT... knock it out of the park and do the same for the LSAT. Also, apparently a promotion would show tremendous maturity and growth.

So if we don't get a promotion worth having, there is a chance we are hitting a lesser law school in August. No, no bubba... that's not how we roll.

Random Tuesday, I called in sick... and I was sick... in a sense. My Jen and I had lunch and I got a call. The gorilla says "you are not at work today? I'm putting you on a plane either tonight or 1st thing in the morning to Columbus to talk to so-and-so about the program you need to be in." Then the hiring manager calls to make arrangements. Off we go.
Columbus was overcast and gloomy. What made it worse was the 20 other candidates I interviewed with. They took 600 apps and interviewed a total of 50 in Chicago and Columbus combined. (see I'm going to be sick Part III) The worst part is (and this is really the worst part) is that positive thing you could say about me (articulate, educated- well degree holding anyway, driven, etc) I could say about any of them.

The interview was a writing sample, 2 face to faces, and a group activity where we were observed. at the end of the day... I don't know how it went.
The gorilla made a BIG deal about it... everyone knows. If I don't get this I am going to be so amazingly embarrassed and mortified. But everybody in the world is sure I got it. Friday makes a whole month... and I haven't heard anything from the only person that matters.
Gorilla told me to call the hiring manager (who was one of my face-to-faces and he really did pitch me soft balls... but I wonder if that is just his demeanor. He is easy to talk to) so I did, and left a message before Thanksgiving... NOTHING.

Further I have a friend of Bat-Girl's sister on the inside in Columbus to kind of poke around. and still... NOTHING. Ick.

So we look to the back of plans and duck every question about this. The uncertainty is making it hard to eat. Now I'm starting to actually lose the weight Bride-zilla wanted me too. My friends are accusing me of buying in the "caucasian" ideal of beauty and trying to lose the butt (i wouldn't complain).

While I feel better I blogged this... I wish I just knew how this turns out... I mean, do these guys know my cab driver in Columbus was even praying for me? That has GOT to be worth something.

3:12.... Do you like those odds?

you shouldn't.

As of yesterday I am the owner of a white 2004 Jeep Liberty. I love it. She is the baby. I will give you the name as soon as she has one. The Dream Killer and I spent all day doing the paper work for this thing, and I am so happy it is over!

The '06 was just too much at the end of the day... and Enterprise wanted too much for theirs. We dropped off the rental and I took DK home. He calls to say congrats because this is my first big-girl purchase and I think we did pretty good.

I got home late and called Kris to tell her about it... she burst into tears and sniffled like a muppett. To which I am like... ok, this is BIG even to me... but not THAT big... she's not crying over me.

I ask what's wrong and she doesn't want to tell because she says I will tell my mom. I say "to each his own and God for all... I am sure you will tell her in your own time.. when whatever this is is bad enough and you are hitting her up for money" She cries even harder... apparently that is the wrong thing to say.

Ready for what called forth the water works? She had a miscarriage.

Oh, did you not know my sister was pregnant? neither did I.

Do you now know who would be the father? neither does she.

Does your heart go out to her because you imagine it is incredibly painful to lose a child? hold on to that, the punch line is coming.

Odds are that is the boy (she knows it was a boy) were to have been healthy enough to gestate (sp?) Kris would have killed him. 3:12

She has 3 kids from her marriage (granted before they were married... but to her the means justified the end) 8 abortions and 1 miscarriage.

The best stat about all of this (or the worst if you do not speak Kiran) is that in NYC you can have an abortion up until the day before you are due... it just costs a little more. I am nauseated that Kris knows this. Though, she says she is most upset because this is the one she wanted to keep.... ummm.... YOU DON'T HAVE CUSTODY OF THE 3 YOU HAVE BECAUSE YOU ARE AN UNFIT HUMAN BEING... but I digress.

Politics aside, how interesting is it that the issue of abortion is whether or not you can. Much like marriage, or divorce. We are a mutually exclusive band of hypocrites. If you can, it is free season to do it again and again. To try to regulate that is an imposition upon free will. But it just seems like there are somethings... i can't even finish that sentence.

Kris is being "brave" and tells me not to worry about her... I say "don't worry, I don't" and DK says I am wrong to be silently grateful that God has spared another soul. He says that is me judging her. wow.

Much as I wish I were, I am not numb to this. What puts it into perspective is that I remember the way I did not handle abortion #4 well. I was getting gas at an Exxon. I walked in and bought a small bottle of Goose, a litre of Sprite, and snatched a cup of ice. The irritating clerk carded me 2x and pulled out the pity face of ... "honey, you're not really going to drink this? You are too pretty to drink" I remember it because it took everything in me not to clock her. My revenge? I sat on my car and drank till I couldn't see. They could have called the cops. They didn't.

Dream killer drove up and drove me across the street. (I was smart enough to pick the gas station that was spitting distance from my town house)

and we didn't talk about it. but the next argument... he threw her at me... something akin to "that's why your sister is such and such"

talk about diarrhea of the blog! ok... will blog later with better stuff.

(but did you get the pic? get it ...out of 12? fine, don't smile, i thought it was great.)

Jimmy Choo syndrome

In keeping with the "rampant medicalization" theme... because we all need aderol for something or another... off we go with Jimmy- Choo syndrome... why? because my Jenny-bear has it (and it dangerously close to being dubbed "Ginger Spice". yep 'Girl Power' and all of that)

So she calls this morning... you will remember this is my 'bunk the establishment day' where I go in later. As I am picking up this morning's NY times (I have to buy it individually because I get the Wall Street Journal delivered... and somehow I just couldn't have them BOTH delivered... For God sake's man! What would people think?!) I invite her for coffee and a bagel. I am trying to cut back on the bagels... no, I lie I am not. We all understand that if it truly is carbs that make us gi-normous... I will die FAT and HAPPY... and full of carbs.... but I digress... back to invite. She says yes and no.

I am confused. She says yes of course she would love to... but no she could not afford coffee and a bagel because she spent too much on a tickets to a function we are attending tomorrow night. WHAT? To which I am obligated to say... "Sweetheart if you ever tell me any such thing ever again, I swear I will slap you with a dead fish" To which she says "But then I would smell like fish" and I say "exactly".

On to coffee. I adore my Jenny-Bear. We've been over this. I understand her slight embarrassment... we've all been there. To take the edge off we have code words for everything. Today she had Jimmy Choo syndrome. Much like my Mr. Choo who in high school and early college had an inconvenient habit of never having $ to do anything. But he didn't tell us until we were already at said place that required money. Yes he was a mooch. So instead of saying ... I really can't do that right now... we have a bit of Choo. get it?

Aka in my world has been moved up to the Axis of Evil. Which is usually a triumvirate of 3... but I would argue she is big enough to be 3 people. Shy keeps calling her a wombat. Which is funny. And I want to kick him for re-naming my SIMS... but really just for re-naming them better. Curses.

And in other news... Got hit in the side from a woman too old to be driving. They are totalling out my piece... so I'm trying to buy the Jeep Liberty (see pic! it's that color... now what to name her?) Enterprise put me in. What can I say. I'm attached. I love it. She loves me.... My yoga class is laughing at me because everyone knew from Day 1 that I was not going to be alright if I had to give it back. THAT would have been wrong.

Also, I am a genius. About a week ago I slightly twisted my ankle on a BOSU- think 1/2 a medicine ball that you have to balance on and so squats with a body bar... I thought I could ice it and wrap for a couple of days and went right back to training like a bond girl... 4.2 mile run on Sunday, circuit training last night, weights this morning and yoga this afternoon... my ankle looks like it has a bagel wrapped around it. nice.

Gracious loser face.

Not what I thought I would start blogging about today... but with the Kanye thing it works on so many levels. Don't think I have to explain... Kanye threw a public hissy fit... it's terribly funny... and then...

So this is the week... Or maybe next week is the week. I am not a patient man. Have never been confused as a patient man. Don't really see myself growing into a patient old man either.

Soon we will find out what comes of the interview and if we are putting of grad school for another year. ick. Bat-Girl's sage advise (and take it with a grain of salt... she has a lot to deal with putting up with me) is to practice the gracious loser face (think Joey, Friends, he didn't win the award)... because even though we don't need it... just in case we do. My response? I go to make cocoa. Cocoa does not talk back.

Shy (bumped up from Chi squared) says we need no such face... only losers lose well. we have the "not yet" face. If we get a "no" it is only "not yet" and we find a different window to climb through.

Everyone else says it happened too easily not to come through (will blog the specifics later... or bemoan them- whichever)

Even the dream-killer is jumping on the band wagon with this one (I know!) he made me dinner Sunday night. He cordially requested my presence for 7 but I got there at 6ish. Going across the river to get wine just didn't take as long as I thought it would. (Yes, this is a "dry parish" on Sundays. Yes, I realize how country that looks in writing! Focus and keep reading). Mr. Killer is under the impression that watching the Food Network is the same thing as being able to cook. and yet... it is not. He made rigatoni in a white wine/butter/olive oil/ pesto reduction sauce (or that's what he ended up with... who cares what he meant it to be) with shrimp and crab meat... and roasted garlic and tomatoes for good measure. Salted to Kiran's taste.

All was well until he went to the bathroom and came back... and busted me 'fixing' it. To which he proceeds to stomp around the house and say "SEE?! THAT'S why I told your little a** to be here for 7 and not 6-ish!" *sigh* and he makes a good point. Ladies, if a man is ever doing something nice for you, please learn how to clap like a seal at Sea-World. No matter how many mistakes are in it, or how much you know you can do it better. because you will get to do it better.... FOREVER.

So I handed him a glass of wine and pouted and pulled out the "I'm sad and stressed about an interview for a job I really want, and scared I won't get it... which will in turn be your problem because you love me and I don't handle rejection well!" (*whew that was a mouthful*) and all was forgiven. Did I mention I adore the dream-killer in law school. He has posters on all of the doors with notes. The one the bedroom has 2nd degree murder on it... infliction of excessive bodily harm or homicide with specific intent... blah blah. I am very proud of him. He is trying.

I am less proud of him when we sit at the dinner table with candles and music... he clears the table and comes to sit next to me so he look deep into my eyes.... and then asks me to leave because dinner has already taken 2 hours from his study time and he has an exam in the morning. Rat bastard. Honestly, who studies for exams at his age!

Tou·rette's syndrome: Pronunciation: tu-'rets-

Greetings Boys and Girls...

I promised myself no blogs until I knew the outcome of Columbus... which would not create so much pressure had the King of Pride Rock not come down and announce he was putting me on a plane to the ENTIRE northern hemisphere. So if I don't get this job... it is truly of my own volition and lack of any worthiness within me. See? no pressure. none... and yet I am going to be sick.

On to Tourette's... and this is sort of a sad post... because I have outgrown her. That is sad because I adore her, and she adores me... One of my college roommates and a really close friend... I have seen her all of 2x this YEAR and that includes Friday night. Further tear jerker... she still introduces me to everyone as her best friend... Ready for the way that I am a jerk? I don't want to be judgemental... so for the most part I don't tell her about her life minus a few little gentle pushes in the 'right' direction. My way of minimizing risk is that I will not go anywhere with her that I need to be seen in a favorable light...i.e. anywhere that there is the potential for me to run into someone I know... where it would be detrimental to me for her to be falling down drunk trying to throw a Tabasco bottle at some guy because she does not like the cut of his chin.

Every time I see her, there is an episode... and I promise myself that I will never go anywhere in public with her again. And then time passes and I imagine I am exaggerating and it wasn't that bad. We do it again and I spend the rest of the night trying to contain the crazy that is my friend. She is a Beautiful Disaster. If Jenny-Bear is my compliment of physical opposite... Tourette's is my caricature. The worst it could get if you were fueled by hysterical emotions and illegal substances.

She is deemed Tourette's because that is an adequate summation of her actions. It is the way she dances, screams, speaks, and essentially is. Bear in mind I say this with much affection. and it breaks my heart that she has not grown past the point of drinking as MUCH as possible... as FAST as possible.

She is dating a new guy. He is a good Christian. He does not drink, smoke, or have relations (and has never). He believes what he believes and it is admirable. Tourette's has dated him for 2 weeks and is determined to break him. I don't know why I feel the need to beg her not to. He is who and how he is... that makes him the man he is... to challenge that just to see if you can is juvenile, petulant, selfish, and wrong. She understands it, and sees it as disrespectful... but her attitude (as it is towards all males) is "I'm sorry about your d*ck".

And it makes me sad. Because as much as I want to scoop her up and make it better, she won't heal until she stops doing that (well among other things). and maybe she doesn't want to... and that is her choice as well. and ick nonetheless.

Happy Birthday JD

dunno if you're still reading. my readership tends to be those closer to me that don't leave their footprints lest someone else we know make fun of them. Believe when I say better things are coming for you. they have to.

I spend tomorrow in Columbus on another leg of the cosmic bunny slide. I'll let you know how it turns out as soon as I know. It is wierd that re-assuring messages are starting to come from the strangest places... says the girl that tells a complete stranger that she believes life holds better for him if he learns to shift through the Sh*t faster. Life has become a sort of Disney movie (DON'T even ask who I would be) where the trees are trying to talk to me (not literally you smart a**). and it's scary... or it would be if I were not a bond girl.

oh yeah, and what's up with blogger and the pics?

Rumble Little Girl, Rumble.

Today I was looking forward to having the Bird Flu. The thought of coming to work was completely mind numbing, and the sheer futility of my time here again brought me close to tears. The thought of playing hookey got me through yesterday... and then I woke up this morning and got ready to come back here. What happened to the Master Plan?

My heart may not be in the right place to be truly Corporate... but I will be damned if I going to let someone walk all over me. Aka is wrong. and incredibly fat. but the important part is wrong. In a meeting she brings my name to the table. What she says is that I spend too much time talking to people... like I am 6-years old and we get time out for talking? The meeting to help my department got pushed, she was treated to an email outlining the issues and the response was a pat on the head and a grammatically incorrect, with many many errors in syntax of how "management" is addressing these "issue" to gather "those information" to get us "the material" to help me do my job.

The best part is I don't need it, because I won't be here long enough to see the loss associated with our mistakes due to lack of clear policies and an adequate representation of banking laws. BIOTCH.

The analyst can bite me and her BFF can shove her supplies and budget.

Chicago texts fervently because he is worried. He is insecure about sounding like a girl but is persistant. He is concerned because as he puts it... "It has never taken you 3 days to spare 30 seconds for me" which is true. He silently listens to me lament and I talk myself to exhaustion to which he says... "Soon enough you will be off to school, why does it matter" and I would (and do) argue "Because I am here now, and the person that I am says I will try my best to do the best in any given circumstance..." to which he says "ok" (i love that he gave me the last word on the phone).

and later he texts... "but you still have to thing BIG PICTURE, baby"

and while he is right... and I will have remained gainfully employed like I promised while boss lady is on vacation... the person that I am says that Aka will not get the better of me. after all, at the end of the day, I can always sentence her to the rest of her life... as her.

My bad... Law #40 Despise the free lunch

So I am blogging this with a time delay... and the law in the title line is the law I should focus on... because I know better.

It has to do with Joules and it is indeed a power struggle. Boy did I call it! Aka very publicly says she is sending me an email to the effect that in my boss's stead I am to take her place at a meeting that has the potential to help me and my brethren immensly. Joules who just happened to be breathing down my neck heard it and FREAKED. "Forward me the email" she says. "Why you and not me?" she says. To which I (very wrongly) blurt out... "I don't give a bloody damn, if you want to go, go! There is no power struggle, you can friggen HAVE it!"

Queen of the fucking slaves. This is in no way shape or form any semblance of real power. WTF! I mean really. I like her as a person and all... professionally she is starting to climb into the same boat as the Villager (i.e. a village somewhere is missing her) and that is a crappy thing to say but JEEZ. More often than not I just want to say "please just leave me alone". but I am a woose. so I do not and instead I read books and write a blog and I will muddle through the stupid meeting tomorrow. I hate my life.

Oh... but Daydream knows my name. Today he tells me he's known it from the 1st day I took his class, he just chooses to only refer to me as 'Beautiful'. Sweet, but the vibes say he isn't interested. which works... I guess.

LAW #14, POSE AS AN FRIEND BUT WORK AS A SPY

DO NOT READ THIS BOOK! I repeat... DO NOT READ THIS BOOK!

You're looking it up right now, aren't you?

This book is useful in the right hands. This and the 48 Laws of Seduction (boy was that wasted on me) were a present from Mentor about 2 years ago (?). Yet, while I deem it useful to one who understands the world from a certain vantage point... for those who are lacking it may have the tendency to exacerbate freak-a-zoid tendencies. I.e. little conspiracy theorists who still re-create the civil war in their basements across shag-carpet battlefields that span the entire floor and have enough action figures to man an entire simulation... not that I know anyone who has this.

In other news... Happy Halloween... whatever tidings that implies. The women I work with are engaged in an on-going project to make me fat. They cook, they bake, they guilt me into eating. It's just wrong. So lower-cased "J" leaves me brownies and here comes Joules. She peeks in my goodies and ask for one as she takes it. I'm not going to say no and she knows that. I am not the slightest bit upset, I adore her, and just yesterday she brought me candy. There is much love here. And maybe this only comes together in my mind... but as she disturbs me for something mundane (and this time it is not a story) it occurs to me she does this quite often. It could be a little bag of chips and I could have 3 left... she bobs over and takes one or a little piece of one... which is weird in it's own right... but then it further occurs to me... Is this her version of a power struggle? is she putting in to action Law #14?

Now I know she is not vindictive or manipulative... and yet on some level.... things that make you go hmmmmmmm?

greatest shirt EVER!

and why? because it works on soooo many levels. And in other news... I am officially too literal. Which may be a by-product of being buried by the GMAT.

So I have this shirt in a tank top. It is from the Gap and a product of the RED campaign, which is helping the ONE campaign, and all of it is to help the starving children in Africa who also have AIDS. (No they are not the exact same ones your mother guilted you with as a child... same situation different people). So my friends know that I am going to have something from this... bleeding heart that I am.

My nearest and dearest have been gifted with the white plastic wrist bands for the ONE campaign, pink pony shirts from Ralph Lauren to support breast cancer, and the charming little cards that tell you the money for your birthday/christmas/whatever gift has been a monetary donation to a charity that supports ______ (fill in the blank for something that applies to said person).

So it was with much amusement that I am gifted with a version of the pic... JB says, "I saw this, and I thought of you... Oprah told me to buy it (yes she is one of THOSE), tell me what you see..."

I say, " You're calling me a red Indian? Is that like your way of saying red-neck? are you making fun of me?" How did I get that? so in Algebra, you look at what is in the brackets 1st... and they what is outside... (RED) + Desi. What does Desi mean? We talked about this, don't tell me you don't remember... It's a Hindi word for Indian...

but apparently everyone else in the world sees Desired. nice. and Yay me because I am me... and on my way home I saw a bumper sticker that says "Talk Nerdy To Me"... and somehow I believe I should have one of those.

Sidenote: JD, not to be judgemental... and yes, to each his own and God for all... but please explain why you did not look at your wife and tell her to have a coke and a smile and shut the F* up? some people naturally have an extra layer around their middle no matter what they do.

I am Jack's flowing hair that is starting to have split ends...

...that has to be held back while Jack is sick in the grass.

On with Mr. Palahnhuik's warm and squishy plastic bubble that protects us from the mail room. If the 'lead' from mail room is given an award for her 'positive attitude' and you're response is to clap really loudly to cover the sound of a cell phone in your back pocket making your butt vibrate as your favorite dummy banker makes funny of you for having to go to said meeting... go immediately to the corner market and buy a box of wine, do not pass go and do not collect $200.

... and run lest any of your co-workers think you are willing to share.

If among said team lead's compliments is that she makes sure the mail room has all of the supplies that it needs... but they only have them because this girl spends about an hour figuring out what we are allowed to purchase THIS week and what will have to wait until NEXT week and deals with 11 billion people asking for sh*t EVERYDAY... calmly, politely, and discreetly edge her into the fire stairs with out her badge on a random floor (like 4) to make her walk all the way down or all the way up to get to a door that requires no badge... do it on a Friday (like possibly today) and grab your keys and run.

Monday, pretend like you don't know what she is talking about (and bring her a muffin).

also... this is my existence. it is the world I live in. It sums it up so nicely it makes me cry.

GOOD VS. EVIL IN THE BATTLE FOR THE UNIVERSE!

What cosmic bunny hole have we all fallen into? The world is just wrong... It started out normal enough... It was raining bloody murder (if it is possible to rain such a thing)... Yesterday I was supposed to have margarita's with the girlies after work... they were trying to make me call Tsunami waiter... which I was going to, but i'd lost the number. I even dumped my purse out.

This morning as I pull on my jeans for a casual Friday I put my hand in my pocket to find a freshly washed $5 bill and Tsunami-waiter's # crumpled in it. How did the ink survive? that is between these 2 pieces of paper and God.

On my way to work I get a call from the illusive Jenny-bear who says "Divali was last week, you can eat meat again. come over after work I have all the stuff to make you dinner... I even have wine so no excuses to stop anywhere" as I bask in the glow of anticipation of a home cooked meal... Lemon enters our consciousness with his 'good morning' texts. How odd. I talk to him all day. he texts and emails me all day. I've never even seen him(well I have in pics) . What's wrong with this guy?

Chi-squared in his profound wisdom sums me up as 'a square' and says that girls like me are easy to get a date out of. Apparently you just have to be consistently and excessively nice for an extended period of time. I say "Bull!" and he answers with "tell me about Lemon?" I do, and he laughs. He then asks what are my expectations of the Lemon and I say realistically I have none. Plus, though I've never seen him I know he is at least an inch shorter than me. that's just not attractive. Chi laughs even harder. He asks why I entertain the Lemon. I say "he's nice, and i like that he's nice and it's nice". He says "honey, you're beautiful and men are supposed to be nice to you. that is a given not an exception" so we are supposed to take Lemon as an extreme compliment and cut him off if he has the revelation of "feelings". ick.

In this morning's staff meeting my 'supervisor' handed out the most juvenille awards for training mentors... and announced the names of 2 new people starting next month. I can tell from the names they will fit the neat stereo-type of TRO's. not much education, little formal if at all, if higher education it will be the 'yard' or brcc... maybe university of phoenix. and $10 says the girl is a single mom. not to say i have anything against single moms... but single in the sense of having a 'baby's daddy' and all of the charming "keeping it real" ignorance that come with it. Don't judge me, this is my blog and my frustration.

Bianca's sidekick gave me a present of our favorite lipgloss last week... to prep me for her business card... she is now hosting 'Fun' parties and says she loves me so i'd never have to pay for anything and she mentions she is discreet. wow. apparently it is THAT obvious.

further palahnhuik (sp?) to follow. My head hurts with my situation.

oh and sidenote: how messed up was it that She-ra is He-man's sister. That was just wrong. (blogger would not let me attach my pic, will edit later.)

STILL SLEEPY... BUT UPRIGHT

lemon sent me a thimble. Think the movie Hook. Still don't get it? google it.

Insert big cheeze monkey grin.

GOOD DAY.

the pic is me... right now. i want to slide under my desk and put my feet on the chair and cover myself with the blanket that is taking refuge in the freedom box. (I packed up last week before I cried... and it makes me feel less destitute to have it stay so... bad dangling modifier!)

After therapy my shoulders feel great... no tension in my neck, traps, back... this is great. I am so zen I want to stick a post-it note to myself telling people not to talk to me. Oh... the other wonderful thing? I forgot to put my contacts in this morning. I left my glasses in the bathroom. Outside of what is right up against my nose (i.e. Computer) everything is a bit fuzzy. This is fan-freaking-tastic. it's like taking happy drugs without the drugs. yay.

oh and lemon is sending me a surprise... It's supposed to take like 3 days (?) but he was under the impression it would take 1. and I am dying to know what it is... but he will not tell me... I'm still hoping for a temp.

Mere Observation

I think overly ugly clothing should come with a story... "My mom bought me the hot pink plaid suit with the last $2 she won from an all night poker game in which she sold a bear, won a title to a castle in Germany, and cured athlete's foot!"

I further think that you have said story ready to just whip out whenever someone is standing next to you..."I know my pink plaid suit is ugly, but..."

You know it's ugly, I imagine you did this on purpose. Don't make me ask... just tell me WHY? Why are you shocking my senses way too early in the morning with something that is overly pink. and plaid.

... oh and lest you think I am a hippo-head... this comes from the girl who is rockin the khakis that have not been ironed.

RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPP....

This is the sound of a band-aid being ripped off. I am going to type this post as fast as I can and not spell check it (sorry in advance for teh typos... get it, that one was on purpose. laugh, dammit I am trying to entertain you!). In all seriousness this one is a bit of a ego sucker punch.

1. I am too much of a woose to call Tsunami-waiter. My deadline was Sunday (didn't happen) and my work friends are trying to help... "Tell him to meet us out for margaritas..." can't. scared. Just thinking about it I feel myself blushing.

I have no grand illusions about myself as Bond-girl in the sense of sexy goddess of the world. I fully accept my position as girl that can wear kick as heels but cannot wear dr. martens cuz she'll trip over her own clunky feet.

2. Apparently it is most apparent to the naked eye (pun intended) that I am the only person on the face of the planet not getting any.

According to Chi-squared, who was the 1st to broach the subject... Bunny picked it up and JB agrees with her. Bat-girl is the only one that shares my most embarrassed sentiments. Her comeback is that I shouldn't feel desperate because Tsunami is an option... which brings me to

3. Daydream is boinking someone I know. Chi-squared felt the need to point out that part of the way it was obvious was because I am working out like a demon, running at 9 o'clock at night, and reading 11ty billion books. The way he puts is "...you need to sit your little a** down. get some and calm down... and stop all of this over-achiever sh*t"... rounded out with even though Daydream works out like a demon, not only is he boinking... Chi-squared says it's w/'my girl' so it's someone I am friendly with.... which makes me wonder how much about people I really don't see.

Maybe I am too wrapped in my own world... dunno.

4. Scheduled the GMAT for Dec. it cost $250... app for JD/MBA to 1st choice... $225... that is one school. Holy Mother of GOD! and I am stupid enough that I started putting $ aside to help sis out with rent. I know I know I said I would never spend another dime on her worthless behind. Don't ask how I talked myself into this. The worst part is that I work for my $ and have worked for every G.D. cent minus b-day, christmas, and grad presents. She has never made enough $ to cover her bills and has always made ends meet with the help of various men.

Who knew her Mickey Mouse foot wouldn't be terribly attractive. The funniest part is that I know she does this, mom is in terrible denial... and I can't even call a guy for a drink. What cosmic bunny-hole is this?

Eventually we will have the dichotomous discussion of good girl/bad girl... in response to the NYT article... which is some kind of controversial.

#2 My mom could be Diana Ross and that is wrong on so many levels.

Gotta be honest here... the list is taking entirely too long. But in the interest of the follow through we will keep going.

The music videos from the 80's... totally my childhood... looking back... totally questionable. Bad hair, bad dancing, bad clothes... just bad.

I heard the Diana Ross version of "Why do fools fall in love" and had to pull it up... as it was stuck in my head. Imagine my surprise when she runs up to the camera and bounces around in what I imagine her her interpretation of a dance (?)

The sad part is, this really is my mommiey. The long hair (streaked gray now) that could get that fuzzy if fried to a crisp and not conditioned. The lack of rhythm... the shiny jump suit... ohhh the shiny jump suit. In mom's defense she is color blind, but she is goofy enough to run down the Vegas strip and talk to people. It's just wrong... but mostly funny... but still wrong.

Next Post: why the cosmos are conspiring to make me poor?

though it looks a lot like I am 26, apparently I am only 6

Happy Divali yesterday... (think Christmas, New Year's, and Easter rolled into one... but no drinking... or football... or meat... ok so it's not really like any of the above. suffice it to say it's a big to us.)

I had 2 weddings and an Indian function to attend, besides the cooking, cleaning, and pooja at mom's (she was set for 4) a wedding was 7/ the function was 7 (figuered I'd wear a lengha and just look like the foreign girl at both weddings) and other wedding, I was just going to pop in for the reception as it was for DK's friend and I was only supposed to go to play with David's Bunny.

Guess where this girl went yesterday?... pooja at mom's and 2 trips to the Super Target (because you only realize that you need 5lbs of potatoes and a glue gun when you need both at the same time).

Mouse decided to pull rank on us... seriously. She got huffed up and teary eyed and told us how in India, Divali is being celebrated properly in the house and it's a blessing of the house, and everybody goes home and enjoys each other's company AT HOME, and they aren't worried about the hustle and bustle of a 'social life' etc. etc. Guess where she is going with this? You know where she's going with this... Mom and I were officially on lock down. It was wrong.

Mom's is stomping around the kitchen mumbling like a gremlin... "She has nothing to do but come up with this sh*t... You would think she would could just watch her little movies, talk on the phone and just stay out of the way. She was not up at 4 this morning prepping to cook for 6 hours.." blah blah blah. You know me... I thought the whole thing was funny. There is no arguing at this point... my grams could have expressed herself better but her REAL gripe was that this was supposed to be special because she is here. and it is quite painful that the closed you will be to most of your kin on special days is across fiber-optics. Our family has been shaken up this year and it is quite the warm and squishy occassion that we could celebrate together because there have been lots of years when we've been busy and not had the time to sit down for a meal together.

So we make the requisite calls and snuggle down for some down time. My mom is still pissy. My grandma is doing cartwheels (OBVIOUSLY not literally). I am 1/2 into my book. My grams decides to teach me how to make kajar... it's like Indian eye-liner. You only make it on Divali (at least the homemade stuff) and it steeps all night over a flame. It's actually pretty cool.

Right. so the other way that I am 6 years old is that mom made a big deal out of the very white table cloth. It was WHITE. We were not allowed (Ok, only I was not allowed) to sit at the table until dinner because curry and masala will find the whitest surface possible and do a happy dance. Everybody ate at the table on the little mats with their hands. NOBODY dropped even the slightest speck on the table cloth... until I moved my plate...

... the way I figure it, mom was in a bad mood anyway and this would only have made it worse... so I pulled my place mat over it and waited for them to do to bed. I washed it and put detergent, oxy-clean, and enough bleach to kill a goat in there. We'll see what happens.

# 3. Jenny-bear and I have come to the conclusion it is officially great to be us.

J-B calls on Tuesday evening as I leave work and this is the conversation

KL: I need wine

J-B: Why does that sound like you need 'to whine'

KL: Whatever, I'm about to pull over and sit on the curb and cry until wine magically appears in front of me.

J-B: Ok, darling- make sure you pick a well-lit area. and try not be mistaken for a call-girl before I get there.

We ended up at Tsunami for 6ish. We meant for it to be just be drink, but we had to run away from a guy that wanted to write a book about pirate islands in Florida. Goofy J-B pretended to know what he was talking about and oohed and aahed. He called her bluff and they cursed her smooth the F**k out. It was the greatest thing ever. So we slip away and get a table overlooking the bridge- it was super nice. Some guys sent us drinks, it was sweet, our waiter was super cute... and then here come 'pirate-writer' again.

"You're the kind of girls that makes every guy fall in love with you and then you leave them devastated because you were never really interested in the first place!" wow. and this guy is single?! can you believe we were about to overlook such an obvious DISH?

So J-B pulls a Bat-girl move and does the slow-motion blinding with her bling, flutters her eye lashes and says "Sweetie I'm married". I pretend that my chop-sticks are the most interesting bits of wood I've ever seen... mostly to avoid eye-contact... and not to laugh. Poor semi-drunken thing. So he goes away. J-B says "Who knew we could ever say we prefer the company of pirates to guys who just write about them"? Funny reference point but 2 years ago on Mardi Gras day when we were accosted by a band of what purported to be real live pirates. They were funny and they loved us. most entertaining.

As we are leaving, our super cute waiter slips me his # and asks me to call him if I ever want to just have a drink. I am have the biggest cheeze-monkey grin... I really want to... but I'm never gonna call him. Hence the pic... it's a hot toddy (get it? if you know me, you do... or if you know him) but for my witty reference to work let's pretend it's a Victorian toddy. I am too much of a goober... I want to call but what would I say? Butterflies and ick.

On with the why yay us... We go to wine loft to find a bartender we've had before... a door man who remembers us and never charges a cover- even when he should... and lots of new random strangers willing to be our friend....

But none of this tells you why it is fantastic to be us... I will say it works best when we are sitting next to each other. She is my best friend and it's a lot like having a whole other person who totally understands you, finishes your sentences, and loves you unconditionally. But that is still not it.... Ready for what it is? She is my physical negative. You notice us, not because we are devastatingly traffic stopping. but if you see one of us and then the other- its the opposite. We figured this out at some retarded function we went to when Camello was working on her MBA and left J-B and I to go work the room. Most of the people there were consumed with themselves so J-B and I entertained ourselves... We'd worn almost the same dress and laughed at the similarities and differences.

me-long black hair
J-B- long blond hair

me-dk brown eyes
J-B- green

me-brown skin
J-B- pink/peach dunno what you call it

me- noticeable bum
J-B- noticeable rack

Shape wise were about the same, after the baby- she's getting back in shape but it's really similar. We both danced in high school, she did in college too. We both did the '97 superbowl. and though she buys me random things she thinks i'd wear, she steals my clothes. Hence, I'm thinking she buys it to hide it from K-dawg (her husband).

I have and have had other friend-girls but it is officially great to have a Jenny-bear. She has been more a sister to me than my own.

The whole night ended up lasting till 1 in the morning. I tell her one of these days K-dawg is going to think she's having an affair since 'a drink' shouldn't take this long. She says she told him she was with me and he understood what that meant... which means she can't play with me again for at least 2 more weeks. curses.

...but I digress...

Will get back to the list in a minute. Today was crap. I cried. at work. SO embarrassed. Bunkles called me and I may have made it through my day just pissed off except he says he had "friend intuition" from Chicago that said I needed him... and the flood gates just opened.

He's moving back. and I am happy because I miss him terribly. The pic is a present from Joules's vacation. Apparently she went somewhere that involved maple syrup. Since I will be here until late tonight I figure about 7 tonight I will take this to the head like a shot and hope for a sugar high to get through all of the stuff on my desk.

Tomorrow will be better. Dear god let it be better.

Actually, it has to be better. I think a fair assessment of my current position is an extended pissing contest. I say, you say, who cares what you say, what I say carries more weight. If you disagree, fine. Go find someone else to help you. You can not bully me into agreeing with you when I don't. I am here to help you but am longer going to go above and beyond if you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head.

no ick. Girl with balls. Today I pissed best. ok that's king of gross, not literally, figuratively

# 4. I got smacked with the Door... Again.

Made it to work this morning for 8...ish. I get to the door and have to look for my badge. The door is only broken when I have my little badge clipped to my pocket or in my hand. Today it required a swipy badge. Of course today because I am wearing impossible cute BCBG slingbacks with 3 1/2 heels (i just measured them). I have fuzzy hair... I have my hands full with purse, cup of ice, coke, phone, etc... badge is in the bottom of my purse.

I stare at the door trying to use all of my concentration to WILL it open. nothing. I try the goofy spells I've seen in movies... still nothing. I put the phone in my mouth, slide my purse closer to me up my arm and shift random things around to find a way to stick my free hand in it... all it got me was little crushed ice down my blouse. I give up. I put the cup of ice on the floor and free my hands to be able to properly look for the bloody badge... as I am kneeling down in front of the door it occurs to me that I should not so much do this right in front of the door as my life is a sitcom and of course someone would open the door right then.

Bam. Here comes Al to the recue. Ice goes everywhere. it was most impressive. And DK wonders why I have a lumpy head.

I hope everybody's world is like mine...

Because today is too stinking great! I will give the snipits and fill in as time allows... Or attention spans (I'm not new to this, I'm true to this! And you know this!... And that is on my list of things I'm not allowed to say :)

1. Bianca has a stalker and I so knew it, though I didn't want to say so at first because I would look like I was dumping on what she thought was so sweet. So I kept my mouth shut... And today I'm am doing the "Told 'ya so" dance.

2. My mom could be Diana Ross. That's wrong on so many levels.

We'll see if that works. If it does, this is theme song for the day.



3. Jenny-bear and I have come to the conclusion it is officially great to be us.

4. I got smacked with the door...Again

5.Sunsilk has the greatest ad campaign EVER... oh and today Dolly Parton is threatening to come out of my hair.

Before we get into that. Today is a great day. ready for how great? I am sharing work phone with another person (she doesn't get a name yet... I may never have to blog her again). Phone rings and I try to get it and found a way to dump my oatmeal in my lap. I pick up the phone and say "CRAP" into the receiver. Yay me. I laughed so hard I almost cried.

So in reverse order. #5 today started out Rain-like. Not rainy... it rained 2 days ago and apparently all of the water didn't hit the ground. It just stayed in purgatory masked as humidity. Today I curled my locks in an effort to make the fluffy mop look like I did that on purpose. I got into an elevator and saw my reflection... it didn't go so well.

Oh and I say Sunsilk has the most ingenious campaign because as I am looking at "the spirit o' Dolly" coming out of my hair. I wonder what little colored ball would appear above my head... like which version of this shampoo would fix my hair... and it occurs to me... you ready for this? sit down you have to be ready...

THEY NEVER ACTUALLY SAY THAT THE SHAMPOO WORKS! There are no testimonials, no examples of what it does, and no evidence that this stuff is any better than washing your hair with beer! (in fact they don't even mentions if is smells better than beer)

It is literally a guy who is supposed to sound homo-sexual ripping on women walking around and saying which colored bottle of this stuff will fix there hair. And what kind of a sheep am I that I buy into this and am looking for the ball above my head. wow.

k. #4 coming in a bit. oh... and I want lemon to get me a temp for christmas (you know like a whole person to follow you around and do the idiot proof stuff that you tell them to) but he said no. Bastard. He just doesn't want me to be happy.