Double Birthdays

Ugh, I haven't worked out for a week and a half. I feel disgusting. I got off track last week with Thanksgiving and then I got sick so I haven't been to the gym in what feels like forever. Tonight my parents are taking me to dinner for my birthday so today is out of the question and unless I get up early tomorrow (not likely), there won't be time since we're going to C-Sharp's cabin. I am going to work out extra hard next week! The one positive aspect of being sick is that I've had a pathetic excuse for an appetite. I doubt it's been enough to shed pounds though.

Since there are no new episodes of The Office, I went to TheGuy's house last night and after 9 months of hanging out, we did what people typically do on a first date -- dinner, a movie and drinks. Dinner was Old Chicago, the movie was No Country for Old Men and drinks were at Champps for my friend Rock Star's birthday (and mine, sort of). It was my first time getting out of the house in a week and thus my first birthday drink -- a raspberry kamikaze shot.

Since seating was limited at Champps due to the non-televised Cowboy/Packers game, we were invited to sit with a single old man. He bought a round of drinks for the table and told us he was alone because his wife struggled with cancer for five years before losing the battle. He had no one else. It was pretty sad.

I know it's not a lot to ask, but I hesitated when it came time to invite TheGuy to go out for a drink with some friends he'd never met. Introducing him to friends seems like a slippery slope when you haven't even bothered to define your relationship. Then those people are left wondering, who was that guy WTP brought to Rock Star's 27th birthday? He did go and I think it went okay. He asked a lot of questions about my friends, before and after, which I didn't anticipate so I think that's good. He recognized one of my friends from the gym she works at so now they can say "hi" to one another in passing.

I still don't know where things are headed, but in the meantime, we seem to have bounced back from the whole birthday fiasco.

The Time I Bought a Concert Ticket and Didn't Stay for the Show

I used to have this really good guy friend, Jarrett. He worked at my company so I met him through a co-worker/friend of mine. We instantly became close friends. At the time, I was still unhappily dating Platonic Ex, but I really liked Jarrett's personality and found him attractive which you will rarely hear me say about a guy.

Last fall, Jarrett and I bought tickets to see his favorite band. At the last minute, one of his friends, Parker, decided to ditch his night class and met up with us at the concert. Things got off to a rocky start when Jarrett and Parker went to order a shot at the bar and Parker turned to ask me what I wanted. Jarrett scoffed, "We don't need to buy her a shot. She has a boyfriend for that."

Jarrett then proceeded to spend the next forty-five minutes during the opening bands hitting on random girls. I, on the other hand, stood there alone, drinking, like an idiot. I don't know what got into Jarrett that night -- that was completely uncharacteristic of him. I'd hung out with him plenty of times before and he was never an inconsiderate prick like that. I think eventually things just got weird between us. I don't know if it was sexual tension or what, but it got to be too much.

I sucked down two or three drinks until I finally became so outraged that I told Parker I was going to the restroom. I thought maybe if I splashed cold water on my face, I would cool down. But I was still fuming. When I exited the bathroom, I headed straight for the doors, got into my car and took off (we'd driven separately so I wasn't leaving him stranded). Jarrett was so busy mingling with the women-folk that he probably didn't even notice for quite some time. I know it was immature on my part but I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Things were never the same after that. He tried calling a hundred times that night and the next day but I ignored him. Eventually over email, he fed me some bullshit about how he wasn't deliberately ignoring me and that he was just having a good time meeting other fans of the band. Yeah. Right. We'd seen the band play another time and he hadn't acted that way.

By the time Platonic Ex and I finally broke up for good, Jarrett and I had drifted apart. We don't talk anymore so it came as a surprise when I received a Facebook message Monday evening from Parker wishing me a happy early birthday "in case he forgot."

I wrote back and thanked him and asked what he'd been up to so we've exchanged several messages now. Last night I finally worked up the nerve to inquire about Jarrett. I said, "So I have to ask, how is your friend Jarrett? I know he hates me and all..."

I'm fairly certain Jarrett doesn't hate me but I didn't know how else to broach the subject. I see I have a new message on Facebook from Parker, but it's blocked at work so I'm curious to see what he has to say since he was there when the drama went down. To be continued...

Presents

My birthday gerbera daisies from GC...



Another friend gave me an iTunes gift card I can't wait to redeem.

We received our Christmas bonus today at work so that was a nice surprise as well.

Sorry, this is all I have for a post today.

Not So Golden

I woke up feeling like shit. I called in sick and spent the day in bed. When I got up, my email and text message inboxes were flooded with happy birthday messages that went unanswered. Duh, people love me. By not going to work, I missed a delivery from GC so I'm extremely disappointed about that. No one, not even Platonic Ex after four years together, has ever sent me flowers at work. Or sent me flowers period.

I had planned to go to dinner with my family and to go out with my friend later tonight, but I have no appetite and a loud, crowded bar sounds like my own personal hell. My brother just called and said, "So you're sitting at home by yourself on your golden birthday? Do you want me to drive over there?" I could've dragged myself out of the house but I don't want to get other people sick. To those who have never lived alone before, it sounds very lonely. But I love it.

I had this whole birthday post planned out but I have a headache and want nothing more than to crawl back into bed so I'm going to do just that. On the upside, I'm glad I got sick now as opposed to two weeks from now, for there is far too much going on over the next few months.

There's a Special Place for me Down Below

I can't breathe through my nose. Mouth agape, this is a hot look. It ranks right up there with unibrow.

I'd be at home watching Young & The Restless with Marley nestled in my lap if there such a thing as "sick" days at my company, but no, I prefer to blow my nose, cough and sneeze knowing my co-workers are within close proximity. Misery loves company.

My mom isn't evil -- I am. Yesterday she woke up early to make and deliver homemade chicken noodle soup and a super-size vanilla shake from McDonald's. The day before, she'd specially made a batch of chocolate chip not-so-chewy bars which I accepted out of guilt. They were rock-hard like David Beckham's abs. So when she said, "I could use some chocolate chip chewy bars," I was left no choice but to dig the bag out of the garbage under the sink. Then I served them to her accompanied with a glass of milk. She would've chosen coffee ten times over but there's not a drop to be found at my place -- I don't even own a coffee maker. Time to go warm up my chicken noodle soup. Yes, I'm aware I'm going to hell.

RIP iPod

It's official. My iPod is dead.

11/27/03 - 11/25/07

Time of Death: 7:53 PM

Tagged

I see I've been tagged by sexy housewife and since I have nothing exciting to post about today, I figure I may as well play along.

7 Random Facts About Me:

1.) You'll almost never catch me without a black hair tie around my right wrist. It's something I started in high school -- only I used to wear it twisted around my middle finger. Why? You never know when you're gonna need it.

2.) I never take the first product off the shelves at Target and other retail stores. I'm definitely not a germaphobe, but the thought of all those random people handling the item I'm about to take home creeps me out.

3.) I've never made a guy dinner. Call me crazy but I have an aversion to it. I don't like to cook in the first place and the thought of making someone dinner is scary to me. What if they don't like it? What if they only eat it to be polite? What if they only say it's really good to spare my feelings? These are the thoughts that would be running through my head the entire time. It stresses me out.

4.) I never went to prom. Guys in high school never paid much attention to me. And none of them asked me to prom. Not much has changed.

5.) I detest olives. Green, black, purple -- it doesn't matter. Can't stand the taste or texture. If they are on a pizza, I do my best to pick them off but I'm sensitive to the taste so if any trace of olive or olive juice makes its way into my taste buds, I want to gag.

6.) I've never broken a bone. I did, however, sprain my ankle twice. The first time was at my brother's baseball game while I was lofting a baseball into the air and catching it with my mitt. One of those times, I misstepped and fell to the ground putting all my weight onto the right ankle. My mom didn't believe me about the pain so it wasn't until the following morning when I still couldn't walk on it that she finally took me to urgent care. The second time, I misstepped again. It happened during a basketball game in my neighbor's yard wearing the Converse sandals I loved so much.

7.) I become really competitive when it comes to foosball and air hockey. Last week we went bowling after work. When I saw they had an air hockey table, I told Stripes about my love for the game. "Oh, no one is as good as I am," he boasted. I love a good challenge especially when I conquer. And it involves bruising the ego of the male species. I won 7-5. Also, it was an instance of when my black hair tie came in handy.

Fan Mail (not really)

I am supposed to be out celebrating my 27th birthday (early, not 'til Tuesday) but instead I'm at home dozing in front of the TV, popping aspirin and drinking lots of fluids. I hate being sick. Not fun.

TheGuy came over last night. I was about to pop in the Love Actually DVD when I remembered my good buddy md was kind enough to send me one of his favorite shows.

Me: Have you ever seen "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia?"

TheGuy: No, but I really want to.

Me: Well, this is gonna sound kind of weird, but this guy I know through my blog sent me DVDs of the show.

TheGuy: You have a stalker?

Me: No, it's not like that.

TheGuy: Are you really famous online for your blog? Like Perez Hilton or something?

Me: [opening package] Hardly, but C-Sharp often refers to me as Perez or the paparazzi.

Me: [pulling out hand-written note] Here's my fan mail. 'Hey WTP, Hope you like this show as much as I do, or I'll never speak to you again. -- md.'

Me: [laughing] That's really funny.

TheGuy: Have you ever met him?

Me: No, he lives in Connecticut.

Me: Well, here is disc 3 and here's disc 2, but I don't see disc 1. That's kind of strange.

TheGuy: What do you think is weirder? That he didn't send disc 1 or that some guy from your blog sent you them in the first place?

Me: Mmm, I don't think it's that weird.

TheGuy: When are you going to give me your blog link?

Me: [pained look] Uh...

Throughout the evening, TheGuy kept turning to me and saying, "Don't you think this show is hilarious?" Yes, indeedy. Funny stuff. Good thing too, now md will have to find another excuse to stop talking to me.

Too Drunk to Text

The eve before Thanksgiving is recognized as the biggest bar night of the year and I'm pleased to say we did it up right. We looked hot.

You know you're impaired when your texting ability goes out the window. By ability, I mean competence to accurately respond to a question and successfully send a text message (with text). Earlier that day, I'd told TheGuy our plan for the evening was to go to Chambers. Here was our exchange:

TheGuy (12:01 am): How's Chambers?

Me (12:07 am): At Loop now. You?

TheGuy (12:19 am): In St. Paul

Me (12:59 am):

TheGuy (1:25 am): ?

Happy Turkey Day

Just got home. Still kinda drunk. Lost my purse at the bar. Miraculously, it was found. Passed out in my cute red dress. And white coat that now has dribble stains going down the front. Must pull myself together for family fun time. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Day Before Thanksgiving

Let me preface this by saying, after that debacle over TheGuy's birthday, I have no idea where things stand.

Tomorrow my family will pack into the truck and make the three-hour drive to my cousin's house up north. It will be the first time we've gone to their place for Thanksgiving and it will be the first time I've *officially been single for the holidays since 2002.

In the past, though it was never outwardly expressed, I know my family felt a sense of relief in knowing I was seriously involved with someone (Platonic Ex) that was gainfully employed with a solid company. My dissatisfaction with my career is no secret. My relatives will say, "So, are you still with the same company?" I'll begrudgingly reply, "Yes." But this year they won't be able to follow it up with questions about my boyfriend's (in their eyes: potential future husband) line of work. Instead the conversation will awkwardly end there. Or worse, they'll ask if I've been looking for other jobs and I'll be forced to tell the truth. Negative. Perhaps they'll ask if I've been writing and again, pathetic loser status will be affirmed. Maybe I'll shake things up by getting drunk and telling them about the writing I've done on this blog recounting my drunken escapades and rants about members of my family.

My one saving grace is that both my cousins, one being my age and the other a couple years older, are single as well which means I won't be outnumbered when the old people start lamenting about how they'll never have grandkids. It shames me to admit, but if I had to choose a time of year to have a boyfriend, it would be the month that spans Thanksgiving-Christmas. In large part, it has to do with the fact I'm not close with my family in the same way I'm close with my friends. They simply don't "get" me nor do I expect them to. I just think it's nice to have someone in your life around the holidays -- someone to keep you sane when you're ready to punch the nearest person in the throat due to all that family togetherness.

*Platonic Ex and I were in the long overdue process of breaking up this time last year

It is what it is

I woke up yeterday still thinking that was a dick move on TheGuy's part. Was it worthy of the silent treatment? I don't know. He messaged me when I signed online at work so I told him I was trying not to be mad at him, but that it had really upset me when he didn't get back to me. He claimed he felt obligated to go out so he went to the bar where his friends always hang out but only for an hour and then went home. He said, "I was going to call if my mood changed, but it didn't. I should have told you what was up, sorry, but I just didn't feel like having any human contact. Don't you ever get in bad moods?" When I asked how he could be in a bad mood on the day of his birth, he said there were some bad memories attached to his birthday. He didn't go into the details and even if he had, I wouldn't share them here but it sounded like a heavy matter. I know it doesn't excuse not calling, but it is what it is.

Rum Kiss

In eighth grade, my mom scheduled a Clinique makeup consultation for me, saying her mom had done the same for her at my age. As most adolscents do, I remember feeling awkward and guilty at the time. I didn't quite understand it. What was wrong with my Bonne Bell lip gloss?

In the end, Mom was right. Not only did I come out with some helpful makeup tips, but the cosmetician went home with a nice chunk of change, as my mother was pretty much willing to buy whatever the woman suggested.

Here I am, seventeen years later, still wearing my makeup identical (minus the foundation and powder -- I can't stand that on my face) to the young girl who patiently sat in that stool as her face was painted. Counter Girl introduced me to uplighting which I use as eye shadow and would absolutely die if it was ever discontinued and for a long time, I used this pretty dark blue eye liner she applied. That is, until I was a poor college student who needed a less expensive substitute at which point I switched to a light blue Maybelline eye liner and then transitioned to a phase where I only wore the shimmery pearl white eye liner. Hot. But I digress. Counter Girl also used a flattering shade of lipstick, Raisin Plum, which I loved. I wore it for many years until it was discontinued. Alas, I went through lipstick color after lipstick color in search of that similar shade. In fact, it seemed every time I found a color I could live with, it would be discontinued.

During my weekend shopping spree, I perused the Clinique counter and stumbled upon the Rum Kiss shade. The name alone was my first clue. I like rum. If I were in a bar, I'd make out with it. What's not to like? I like that it's darker than the shade I've been wearing the past six months and it's got some sparkle to it. After 10+ years in search of the perfect replacement shade of lipstick, I may have found it. As close as I'm ever gonna get anyway.



UPDATE: I wrote this post this morning but as the day wore on, I began to feel a familiar tingling sensation on my lips. About six months ago, I'd tried Neutrogena lipstick and discovered I was allergic (my lips looked I'd just had three doses of collagen injections, one after the other) to one or more of the contents. It appears Clinique must use the same chemical(s). Guess the only rum kiss I'll be having is in liquid form.

Grrr = Growl

It’s TheGuy’s birthday today so ever since last Wednesday, I’d been asking him what his celebratory plans entailed. He kept saying he didn’t know. I inquired again Friday afternoon, thinking he would go out Saturday night, but he said he wasn’t feeling well so he was only going to go out if he was feeling better. I texted him Saturday night and he wrote back at 7:30 saying he still didn’t know and was going to take a nap and then decide. A couple hours later, I texted again. And again. No response. Stupidly and regrettably, I’d held off on making plans thinking I would meet up with him later. Then after no word, I was mad so I just went to bed.

Naturally I assumed he went out. How do you not go out on your birthday?? Unless you’ve got SARS or Bird Flu. I sent another not-so-nice follow-up text today about blowing me off. He didn’t reply until 6:30 and all he said was, “Sorry, I was just in a bad mood last night, I only went out for a little while.” First of all, how can you be in a bad mood on your birthday?? That’s just not right. I think he just wanted to keep me away from his friends or more importantly, maybe a female friend. I don’t know. Was he faking illness all along? I was with him Thursday night and he wasn’t sick. Even if you’re in a bad mood, you can have the common courtesy to text someone back. He knows from experience that that sets me off. It’s just plain rude.

When things like this occur, I do one of two things: (1) avoid the person at all costs (2) brush it off and forget it ever happened. I’m really pissed and annoyed right now but I’m sure he’ll apologize again and I’ve got this soft spot for him so I have a hard time staying mad so it may fade by the time I wake up tomorrow. I had an inkling something like this was bound to happen in the near future. Given he's a male, he was destined to disappoint sooner or later.

Writers' Strike Good News for Big Brother 9

Rumor has it that Big Brother will make an early return this February and that it could air more than three times a week.

Last season fell flat for me but I haven't given up all hope. CBS just needs to cast more interesting houseguests.

From the Smoking Gun:

NOVEMBER 1-- Our old friend Mike "Boogie" Malin, the reality television veteran who last year won $500,000 on CBS's "Big Brother," was arrested earlier this week for reportedly assaulting a waitress at a Denver sports bar.

Invisible Sidewalk Crack

I had a near perfect run this morning. It was nice and cool – low 30’s with flurries. So refreshing. Miraculously, I also managed to not flat on my face this time. I inspected the “danger zone” and realized I must be even more of a klutz than I thought because the sidewalk is perfectly flat where I tripped. Did that huge crack I envisioned disappear??

Sorry, I know these are weak posts. Blame NaBloPoMo. I’ll do better next week.

Little Red Dress

I went shopping today and bought the cutest red satin strapless dress. I love it! I bought it with the intent to wear it to the grooms’ dinner for my friend’s wedding, but I don’t know if I can wait that long to wear it. I even got a black satin clutch and black satin heels to match. Now all I need is jewelry.

MB's Intro

Yes, I suck for not keeping up with NaBloPoMo. I did have this as a saved draft but didn’t get a chance to post it.

I've only had three boyfriends in my life. There was Married Ex, MB (for Man Boobs), and Platonic Ex (most recent). Since I've spent far too much time talking about Married Ex lately, I thought it might be fun to share a few fond memories of MB. It was really more of a summer fling (trying to get over Married Ex) and even though MB was kind of an asshole, he was fun and it was one of my most memorable summers.

He used to do annoying things like stand before his living room mirror, flex his muscles and kiss his biceps. He was a social smoker but when he learned I didn't like that, he switched to chewing tobacco. You know, because that’s so much better. Not to mention hot. He often drank to the point of annihilation and thus required a babysitter. One night at a party he danced up on a coffee table like a drunken buffoon for a good hour when no one was even dancing.

But with the bad, there was good. Many more stories to be told but they shall have to wait. His name alone, MB, should speak volumes.

Pouch Be Gone

I've got this wedding coming up. I tried on my bridesmaid dress last weekend only to realize that directly below the hanging ivory sash accentuates my FUPA (Fat Upper Pelvic Area). My pouch, if you will. Seriously. I'm slumped over in my chair right now to avoid overhang. For the record, I am not calling myself "fat" (I know better, people throw a fit) but I could stand to drop 5-10 pounds.

I can certainly afford to cut back on my portion sizes. It's no secret that I have a hearty appetite, as my family and friends can attest to. Particularly when it comes to pasta which I have been eating by the mound fulls lately (not mouth, mound). And I don't quit eating when I'm full. I intentionally make more than I can eat -- I like food way too much. I've never tried to diet. The thought alone makes me cranky but I've decided I should at least make an effort to eat healthier, smaller portions. Baby steps.

Bottom Feeder

I apologize for the lack of quality posts but I assure you my life has been Dullsville as of late. Scraping the bottom of the barrel here folks.

1.) Deborah shelled out $1300 for a personal trainer that she turns a deaf ear to. He tells her to use the elliptical machine to burn calories. She refuses, saying it makes her feet go numb. He wants her to join Weight Watchers. She says no. He wants her to keep a food journal. She eats whatever the hell she wants and lies about it. Yesterday at Subway, her idea of 'healthy' was a six-inch tuna sub with mayo (yes, in addition to the mayo in the mix) and four pieces of cheddar cheese. At this very moment, she is on her way to the vedding machine to buy a bag of Grandma's vanilla cookies.

2.) Over the weekend, my parents were at a restaurant where the bartender happened to be an old acquaintance of mine. Our brothers played hockey together growing up so we hung out during games and recreational activities. Last time I saw her was in college at a club downtown and she had morphed from this dorky, scrawny little thing into this tall, slender "knockout" as my mom says. According to my mom, she was enthusiastic about getting in touch with me so they got her number and told her I would call. The thing is, I remember her as being annoying but it sounds like maybe she's changed. I guess she was living out in Vegas the past seven years and recently moved back. My mom, being who she is, just had to mention the fact I'm single at which point this girl said she's been in seventeen weddings! Damn. If it were four years ago, I would have pretended to take down her number, but I'm desperate for single friends these days, so I think I will give her a call. I just hope I don't end up regretting it if she turns out to annoy me (doesn't take much).

3.) The November 12 issue of Us Weekly promised to spill ‘how far Lauren Conrad goes on a first date.’ Too bad it wasn’t nearly that juicy. But she's got some valid points. From Us Weekly, LC’s Dating Advice:

 You have to date a lot of frogs “Whitney’s mother always tells her, ‘You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find the prince.’ Every time you have a failed relationship, learn from it. You’ll find out what you really want and need in a guy.”

 Know where you’re going “On my last date, the guy was like, ‘I have a surprise for you. Bring socks.’ Anyone who asks you to bring socks is taking you bowling. I was wearing a minidress and heels – I almost always wear a dress on the first date, and get a second opinion on the outfit from a friend – and, at the last minute, had to find another outfit.”

 Wear red lipstick “Normally I wear my makeup the same on a date as I do in the daytime; it’s important to be yourself. But I don’t kiss on the first date, and a guy won’t try when you have on red lipstick.”

 Let him pay “On a first date, it’s best for a guy to pay for dinner. It doesn’t have to be expensive. As dating progresses, it’s fine to split or take him out.”

 Don’t call him “If a guy wants to call, he’ll call. And I almost never go out with a guy who calls me the next day. I like a guy who has a life. Make me wait a couple of days and wonder. Otherwise it’s too easy.”

 Don’t hook up with every guy you’re dating “I go on a date every other week. As long as you understand that dating a different person every other week does not mean hooking up with a different person, it’s fun.”

4.) See, I told you. I got nothin’.

Things that Make me Feel Better

The infamous hermaphrodite wedding picture...



Under normal circumstances, I would find a picture of Married Ex removing his new wife's garter disturbing if it weren't for this...

Good is Good

The thing I like most about TheGuy is that he's an inherently good person. Not good in the sense that he makes me want to run out and donate to charity, but he's good-natured. It's comforting. More often that not, I'm this tsunami of negative energy so being with him sort of balances me. He's not afraid to call me out when I'm overly cynical or cutting down others yet he doesn't do it in a way that hurts my feelings or makes me defensive. He simply points it out and leaves it at that. It's a delicate balance.

Running for the Complete Klutz

Designated “movie night” the last two Fridays means it’s been two consecutive Saturdays that I’ve woken up without a hangover. I’ve continued to be pretty lax with my workouts since the marathon – six mile runs two to three times a week. I was feeling pretty good Saturday morning during my run until I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, went sailing into the air and came down hard on the asphalt. Fortunately there were no pedestrians, bikers or joggers in sight but a couple cars witnessed my graceful fall. I scraped my right hand, as it took the brunt of the fall and scuffed my right knee. I walked it off and finished the last couple miles of my run. Annoyed that my workout was interrupted, I wasn’t about to let my clumsiness put an abrupt end to it.

Am I Scary?

Last night TheGuy brought over his cat, Murphy, to meet Marley for the first time. There were no cat fights, but it didn't go as well as hoped. Murphy is three months younger than Marley and still pretty small so he wasn't sure what to make of Marley. Murphy has this adorable face full of expression -- his look of discomfort was priceless. I think they eventually would have gotten used to one another but we didn't want to take the risk so we kept them separated. Instead Marley stayed in "his room" (the 2nd bedroom) while Murphy played with all Marley's toys.

As TheGuy was leaving, he made a comment about how it was too bad our cats were scared of one another, then he added, "That's ok. I'm scared of you." I'm sure he meant it as a joke, but isn't there some truth behind every joke? Hmmm...

Watch Where You Blog

Growing up, I always kept diaries mostly used to confess feelings of true love for boys I rarely, if ever, spoke to. Problem was, no matter how hard I tried, I never found a hiding spot left unturned by my weasel of a brother.

In sixth grade, I had a crush on this boy, Shane. I'm sure I had some story about how his hand grazed mine as he went to pick up the pencil he dropped on the floor in seventh period or something equally dramatic that my brother was just dying to read about. One afternoon, my mom called me and my brothers out to the living room and told us she was considering having another child. It wasn't until the end when she asked what I thought of the name 'Shane' for a boy that I was clued in to what was really going on.

Not only had my brother invaded my privacy (not the first time), but he'd gone ahead and told my mom who just laughed it off as some big joke. I played it off like it was no big deal but the fact he knew every personal feeling and emotion I'd experienced over the last six months was mortifiying and infuriating. I took all my diaries (save one or two) and pitched them -- an act I knew I'd regret at the time and still do.

So why do I blog? Good question. It's a love/hate relationship. I get a high from the release, each time I post anything remotely personal, but doubt and humiliation are just around the corner. I refuse to go back and re-read old posts. Did I seriously just publish that for the whole world to read when half a liter of vodka wouldn't be enough for me to say that to the person's face? I worry over whether someone I know will find this blog or the link will get passed along to unwelcome visitors. Yet I can't stop.

First Dance

It felt like a sucker punch to the gut seeing the "first dance" photo of Married Ex and his new wife on MySpace for the first time. I immediately called a couple friends for reinforcement. I felt better the moment my friend said, "He's probably relieved thinking, 'whew, no one will suspect I'm gay now!'" I guess you could say he had a few homosexual tendencies that were never confirmed one way or the other. The other friend I spoke with asked if their pets were included in the wedding party. Shockingly, no. And last but not least, I was told, "If you look closely at the first picture, it looks like she has a boner." Her dress poofs out in just the right location. I love my friends.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Contents of my found wallet:

Drivers license
Social security card
Health insurance card
Blockbuster card
Library card
Old receipts
College I.D. (I'm 21 when movie theaters offer student discounts)
Two dimes, a nickel, and three pennies

Every time I step out in public, I'm slapped in the face by the most effective method of birth control: children - in the flesh. Yesterday was no exception. After I picked up my wallet at the cab company, I stopped at this cute new sandwich place located in the same building called Bewiched. I got the combo with the half smoked turkey sandwich and the small spinach salad. Mmm...the spinach dressing was sweet and savory!

In a not so pleasant trip, however, I was forced to visit the dreaded grocery store as evidenced here. My least favorite chore of all time combined with deviant young souls and one lunatic of a mother did not make for an agreeable excursion.

I heard her before I saw her. Her tired face masked by long dark frizzy hair, she chided her four little hell-raisers to sit down according to the designated seating chart. She had one of those shopping carts with the plastic red cars in front for kids in hopes it's enough of a distraction to keep their grubby little paws off the produce.

With each demand, her high decibel tone escalated as did my nerves. Did she think her children were stupid? Clearly, raising her voice hadn't been effective in the past and certainly proved telling yesterday at 4:43 pm. What possesses someone to speak so loudly in public? Have they no common courtesy for innocent bystanders? Apparently not.

And then later as I was loading up on Liptop Sides (10 for $10) and hoping the cute guy behind me wasn't judging me for it, I heard her shrill voice from the adjacent aisle. It started up again. This time I could distinctly hear the mother over two shelves of stocked canned goods, the sound not muffled one bit.

In the meantime, I'll stick to four-legged friends. Cuter and much less work.

You Get What You Pay For

Bored again so I went back to highlights. Even though it's risky, it's easy to go to the Aveda Institute and get some student at random and pay a measly $30 for a partial foil. It looks ok - what you would expect for that price. As the girl showed me the finished product, she said, "It gives your hair dimension." Well yeah, kinda!

We'll see how long this lasts before ADD kicks in. I really need to find a regular hair stylist for color. I'm constantly asking my friends for recommendations. What I really need to do is ask everyone, ask how much they pay, and take location and all these factors into consideration. I don't know why it is, but I'm scared to commit to a hair stylist. Trusting someone with your hair is a big deal. At least the instructors will fix anything that goes wrong at Aveda.

Insignificant Weekend Happenings

Last spring I left my wallet in a cab so I called the following day to see if anything had been turned in from the previous night. No such luck. Or so I was told. Last week I received a letter in the mail from the cab company saying my wallet had been in the Lost and Found for the past thirty days and that they would discard of it if they didn't hear from me within ten days. When I called to claim it, I was told the office was open 'til 4 pm so I left work early on Friday to pick it up. I got there around 3:40 but they had already shut down for the day. I hate when shit like that happens.

I watched the movie Reign Over Me (that serious Adam Sandler one) this weekend and disliked every minute of it. I usually like depressing movies but this was just plain excruciating to watch. At the end, GC said, "I thought this was supposed to be a good movie."

My friends, undoubtedly sick of me exploiting them and annoyed with my biased viewpoint, are threatening to start their own blogs. Now that would be interesting!

I got drunk way too early and way too quickly.

In a much overdue vist, I took my filthy car to The Downtowner where they wash the outside AND inside of your car for $13. Worth every penny.

7 is the number of light bulbs I've had to replace every time Marley gets upset and knocks over the living room lamp when I'm not paying attention to him.

No Clowning Around

If you're scared of clowns, you may want to stop reading. Last week at lunch, a co-worker shared the freakiest story I've heard in my life.

So this happened to his family's friends that live in Milwaukee. One night, their daughter was babysitting for a couple with a little girl. As many kids do, this girl had an imaginary friend which the couple told the babysitter about prior to leaving. At one point during the night, the babysitter called the couple and asked for permission to cover up the life-size clown in their basement because she had a fear of clowns. Imagine her magnified fear when she discovered the couple didn't own a life-size clown. The parents instructed her to get their daughter and get out of the house immediately.

It turned out there was a psych ward nearby and the clown was an escaped mental patient that had been living in their basement for a week. He also was the "imaginary friend" the young girl spoke of and he had been talking to her all week long. She even would bring him cookies.

The Day My Ex Got Married

From this day forth, November 3rd will be known as "The Day My Ex Got Married." Because I like to torture myself, I spent some quality stalker time on MySpace. Her headline reads: "Well dang, I'm about to get hitched!" With the addition of five unnecessary exclamation points. Her friends have posted comments reassuring her how beautiful she's going to look walking down the aisle and crap like, "At this time tomorrow, you're going to be a bride!"

All day I was haunted by what I knew was going on just twenty miles north of me. Around 10 am, GC and I went to Lake Calhoun and I was reminded of all the times Married Ex and I went rollerblading there so many years ago. I imagined his fiancée, all nervous and excited, was getting her hair done in that atrocious style she had for her trial.

Then at 4 pm, I wondered if it was official yet. Were they joined 'til death do them part by the oh-so-romantic legally binding contract? A few hours later, I ran to the mall to return something when I realized the reception was now taking place. I know exactly where the venue is located since I've been there and if I hadn't been on a time constraint that involved me getting ready to go out and get wasted, I may have driven by the reception. Or parked my car and used binoculars to scope it out.

As I went to pass out in bed, I thought about whether he carried her over the threshold. I decided he would probably be embarrassed by that silly gesture, but she would INSIST it be done. Then I wondered if his lanky, frail arms would support her.

That One Time We Hooked Up in College

I thought it might be amusing to share the story of "that one time TheGuy and I hooked up in college." It is best described in three parts.

Part I - Worst Night of my Life

One night my senior year of high school, my friend Lola and I went out with her Sort-of-Love Interest and his friends. It involved chugging Bacardi Limon from the bottle, getting kicked out of a bowling alley, Lola and I repeatedly puking in the backseat of Sort-of-Love's Interest's friend's car, AND getting caught by our parents. To date, it goes down as the worst night of my life.

Part II - "The Girl that Puked"

A few weeks before I started college, Lola and I were leaving the bowling alley (NOT the one we were thrown out of) when we bumped into some of the guys we may or may not have puked on. I was too mortified to look any of them in the eye.

Sometime during the fall of my freshmen year of college, I was approached by TheGuy at a house party. He asked if I knew his friend, Lola's Sort-of-Love Interest, so I said, "yes." TheGuy introduced himself as a friend of Lola's Sort-of-Love Interest and said he recognized me from the bowling alley (again, NOT the one we were thrown out of). As you can imagine, he'd heard plenty of stories. After that, how do you not put the vomit to the face?

Part III - Cheese, Interrupted

A month or so later, I was at a house party with my friend and her high school friends that were in town. At some tipsy point in the night, TheGuy and I got to talking which must've led to flirting and it was somehow decided we were gonna "watch a movie." A phrase college kids know all too well.

So he came back to my dorm room and we made out in the sloppy drunk kind of way. Anyway after "God-only-knows-how-long," my friend from the party showed up and began pounding on my door. As in, she balled up her fist, maybe both, and used it/them to bang on my door. And in her slightly louder than average voice, she called my name. Over and over. When I realized she wasn't giving up, I let her in. She stumbled in without so much as a second glance at TheGuy, and announced she came for "the cheese." I know what you're thinking. Was "cheese" code for our stash of paraphernalia? Not quite.

Her eyes lit up, as she proudly held up "the cheese."



She then proceeded to eat tortilla chips and cheese whilst recounting all the funny happenings I missed as a result of ditching the party early. She kept saying, "You shouldn't have left." I have no idea what must have been going on in TheGuy's mind at the time but I can only imagine. Eventually, she realized her friends were probably waiting for her to return so she left.

It wasn't until the following day that her oblivion to the situation dawned on her!

What's for Dinner?

Last night during a commercial break for The Office, there was a clip of the local news reporter saying, "Up next, find out if the frozen pizza in your freezer has been recalled due to the latest E. coli outbreak."

TheGuy: I hate how they don't tell you which brands.

Me: Yeah, but you can just look online. It's Totino's.

TheGuy: Exactly, the people who eat that kind don't have internet.

Me: Oh, good point.

NaBloPoMo

Say that three times fast. Check out the badge to the right. Since I don't have the motivation for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), I decided to participate in the blog version where you post every day for the month of November. I'm not off to such a great start but I'll try to make up for it later.