Friday, August 25, 2006

Mail Stop Mambo

Excuse me, sir, but when you say, "Shall we dance?" when we pass in the hallway, I do not think you are funny. In fact, you creep me out.

Of course, there's no way for you to know that your very head repulses me. And there's not way for you re-shape your mellon to look less like a penis. It's unfortunate, I know, but dancing with you, even in passing, is the last thing I would like to do.

Since I've got your attention, I would also like to address your pants. I know I've used the word "unfortunate" already, but it also has to be used to describe the shape of your body. And it's not your fault that I once dated someone with a weird uncle who's body was shaped the same as yours. And there's no way you can make your torso longer and your buttock region shorter.

But what you can do is lower the pants a bit. Ease 'em down to the belly button region and you'll look a little less freakish.

Unless of course, you keep walking the way you do. I was a fan of Urkel too, but no one needs to walk like him in real life. Ever.

Rock your cock back to the southern region and stand up straight for Pete's sake.

So, Mr. Penis Head, I'm sorry, but no, we shall NOT dance...

Thursday, August 24, 2006

How Much Would You Give My Pimp?

So. You know...like, theoretically...how much would you pay for someone to cook you and your honey a romantic dinner which included salad, an appetizer, a meal and dessert? And of course a smile. ;) You know, like a personal chef.

Theoretically. (Price not including cost of food)
You're answers are really needed, pretty much immediately. So please comment. Some of you may say, "I wouldn't pay someone"...let's pretend you would. Show me the money...






1 Hour, 2 Insults. 3 Is NOT My Number

I may be wrong here, but aren't therapists supposed to make you feel better?

Overall, I'd have to give the guy an 8, but there were times during yesterday's session when it easily could have been a -8.

Like the time I was telling him that sometimes I feel invisible and I looked up and he was falling asleep. There was even a nod of the head-you know the one-where he caught himself dozing and jerked himself awake. Yeah. I bored him.

And my favorite-the time he asked me about my relationship with food. This will be the second time he brought it up.

Dude-I do not have an eating disorder. If I did-I'd choose the one where I was skinny.

So, I'm boring AND fat. Nice. I'm glad my hard earned dollars are going to pay the insurance that pays him.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

MySpace A.D.

You scrunched your nose to push up your too-big-for-your-face glasses instead of using your hand.

Your bangs were too long and you swept them over to the side instead of getting them cut.

You were freaking tall. And chunky.

You smelled kind of acidic. I don't know what the means, but that's what I remember.


You once came to school with a black spec of food on your right front tooth. Everyone laughed behind your back. I told you in gym class when I was pretending to steal the ball from you in crab soccer. You told me it had something to do with mayonnaise I hated the way you say mayonnaise (I know I'm going to regret this ((MR. CM)) but MAY o NaiZZZE) and I still do today.

You had a gray snow suit. In 6th grade.

One day the mean girl who everyone wanted to be friends with (NO it wasn't me jerk faces) told me to hug you and pretend we were friends. I did because I wanted to be hers.

For the Invention Convention one year, you put a pencil in water and showed us how light reflects to make the pencil look broken. I think you just woke up late and forgot your real project.

You wore velcro sneakers. In high school. (mid 90's)

You were a junior volunteer fireman. We didn't respect you enough back then to tell you how cool that was.

You were quiet. Probably because we took your voice away by never lending an ear.

You are now married. You smile. You're wife is adorable and you love cars. Your glasses are gone. You are still freaking tall, but you are not chunky.

You succeeded even though we didn't want you to.

Kudos to you, A.D. I admire you...

(But if I ever see you again, and you say the "M" word, I'm going to kick your ass)

Thanks to MySpace, I've been in contact with a few kids I knew in Elementary School, High School and College. I just recently started emailing a kid who I knew through other people when I went to WSC. He made me a mix tape (that I still have). It was nice to know he remembered me.

The only frustration I have is that I don't know people's married names, and the search/browse function stinks. Other than that, it's way cool! Look up an old geek you and your friends tormented-you may be surprised!

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Warning: Long Post

So here's the thing. Have you ever had so much on your mind that you actually can't think of anything? You can't formulate a plan, you can't figure out what the best idea would be and you forget things? (More than usual, ok?)

And worst of all, you don't have an opinion on anything anymore because you're too stuck in your own head.

Yeah, I suppose if someone were to ask me how I felt about the power of prayer (I believe!) or whether or not you should buy the red or the black sandals (Hello! Get BOTH) that I would have an opinion to offer.

But as I sit here before my computer, cursor blinking, Nickel Creek crooning...I got nothin.

I have so many thoughts running through my head, I can't even think of fun childhood stories to share. I can't make my words "sing" and I can't paint you a picture with them either.

I'm sorry. So, instead, I'm gonna tell you what I'm thinking about:

1. I'm dead fucking broke. I paid 2 past due bills and have no more money to pay the stack that's been past due for a month. The next paycheck will go mostly to my mortgage and then the rest to maybe my electric bill. I am almost out of oil in my tank and have been taking cold showers voluntarily to save every drop. I often bath at night now, heating the water on my stove. With the exception of a "Mental Wellbeing Hamburger" every now and then, I eat what I have in my house: chicken, eggs, and random packets of rice. I think I have some frozen veggies too. I do not know what I can do to get out of this cycle.

2. I may have to sell my house. Don't tell Mom and Dad, please. I cry when I think of it because I feel like a failure. I feel like if I was smarter or more frugal I wouldn't be in this situation. I am angry at myself for making foolish decisions, such as my recent trip to Florida. Selling my house has to be a last resort b/c I own it. Moving to an apartment will cost the same each month in rent but I'll get nothing in the end. It will, however, allow me to pay debts, and I won't have to worry about hot water or heat. Or garbage pickup or snow removal or whether or not the tree will crash on my house, or the basement will flood so bad that it'll ruin my furnace again. I would, however, miss living next to Scary Boo. And yes, that's the truth.

3. I dislike my new job. I dislike my boss because he's an ineffective communicator and he only talks to me when I've done something wrong. Also, I've never worked anywhere in which I've been told I've done something wrong this much. I'm always good at what I do, and always am the one who pulls things together when it counts. I do things wrong because I was never trained and they expect me to just "know" things.

4. I have to find a loophole to get out of the sign on bonus they gave me-otherwise I have to stay. There's a chance I could transfer to another sector of the business, but I have to be released by my boss and possibly the president of the company. I don't think it's going to be an easy fight, but I'm sure as heck not going to give up.

5. I may have to go to lunch with my boss and 3 other people on Thursday. I do not want to because he sucks the life out of me, and the people I would be going with crack me the eff up and I won't be able to laugh loud. There's also a possibility that he might start being nice after he sees me as a real person, and that, my friends, would go against my fight. (I'm kidding-that would be awesome)

6. If my car problems are really electrical, I'm seriously screwed. But on the upside, I'll get skinny again b/c I'll have to walk everywhere. And everyone I know lives at least 30 minutes away BY CAR.

7. I am thinking of starting to sell my fine baked goods to those less talented, but am afraid of being sued. Plus, who would buy them when they can just go to Stop and Shop?

8. I have heal spurs in both feet. They hurt. Sometimes, I can barely walk. I think being on my feet and working hard at school made them flair up, but the doctor prescribed physical therapy and a high dose of anti-inflammatory. I can't afford to go to the therapy right now b/c I have to go in a row, and that's a lot of copays. I also hate that I may have to kiss my pretty shoes goodbye for a while.

9. I miss someone I shouldn't. Even though she wasn't in my life actively, she was there. And she thought I was wonderful. And she always made me smile when I was sad, and she always told me I would make it b/c I'm me. And not having that now is hard.

10. I am using my companies EAP to see a therapist. I think writing my "Unwritten" stories about my dad has brought out some things that I didn't ever really identify with, and matched with 1-9 it's making me lose my laughter again.

I don't want to lose my laughter again. I only just found it a few years ago.

I'll get it back. Stay with me. I love that you all visit me everyday.

*I am also disturbed that my facial astringent melted away some of my nailpolish.

Toosdae ?'s

1. Would you rather cut your own hair while blindfolded OR have a master gardener prune your hair with hedge-clippers?

2. If you could celebrate any holiday twice in one year, which holiday would it be, and what month would you celebrate it for the second time?


3. If you were asked by a toothpaste manufacturer to come up with a new flavor, what would be your top three suggestions?

1. I would rather cut my hair with a blindfold on. Those clippers are usually not very sharp and I picture a lot of pulling.

2. I'd say Halloween. Though it's not my very favorite holiday (Christmas) it's a fun one. I like seeing people's creativity and their silliness and little kids love it. I'd say April would be a good time-perhaps on the 1st 'cause of the "Trick" part of "trick or treat!".

3. Lemon, Strawberry and...Jolly Rancher watermelon.

Monday, August 21, 2006

K-Fed's the Shit!

Oh! I get it now...Fergie Pees on stage and K-Fed Poops...
Nice.

Untitled: 6

In high school, I once made up a lie that a good friend of mine died from drinking just so people wouldn't question my choice not to party. The risk of having someone find out that Brian never really existed was less scary than if they knew the real reason.

I didn't want to become my father.

So when people asked me why I wasn't at a party or why I never drank, the far away look I got helped them believe his death was true. My boyfriend was from Massachusetts, and so no one ever questioned that I would have friends who lived there too.

It didn't make me any less of an outsider-those same kids who feined sympathy were the same ones who whispered behind my back, or made jokes about what a snob I was.

Little did they know, I ached to be their friend. I yearned to be able to let loose and have some fun-to drink and party and be part of the crowd-without the fear of becoming the very thing I hated the most.

An alcoholic.

I knew that it was hereditary-that because my grandmother was an alcoholic and my father and his sister were alcoholics that I had a better chance than anyone. And I couldn't let that happen.

So I sat through high school weekends alone in my room, or away at my boyfriends house, doing my best to not become my father.

In a way, I became an anti-aholic-someone who's life was taken away not from drinking, but from not drinking. I secluded myself from good people who could very well have become my best friends, my soul mate or someone who needed my help.

It wasn't until years later, in college, that I realized it: I am not my father.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

All I can say is...

Is Britney Spears serious with that?

Chicken!

This is for my incredibly cute and persistent curly-haired sister. I wish you good health, but know that this will be a signature dish on my "Picnic" menu when I am famous.
*
Chicken, Artichoke and Fennel in a Pita
Serve cold or at room temperature, stuffed into a pita or on a roll or served simply on a bed of greens. (I also like it on white toast or crackers and perhaps in a pastry shell for an app)
4 pounds chicken breasts
2 cloves garlic, peeled and halved (I add more, just so you know)
2 T. oil
Salt & Pepper to taste
1/2 C. balsamic vinegar
1/4 C. olive oil
1/2 C. grainy mustard
2 pounds fresh mini artichoke hearts, quartered or 3, 10 oz. frozen
1 large fennel bulb
1 medium sized onion
2 cups mayonnaise
*
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Rub chicken with garlic, oil, salt and pepper. Roast in over for 45 minutes or until done. Cool completely and cut into chunks.
*
Combine 1/4 cup of balsamic vinegar with the olive oil, 1/4 cup mustard and salt and pepper to taste.
*
Place the artichoke hearts in a saucepan, add about 2 inches of water. Cover and bring to a boil and cook for 10 to 15 mins if fresh or 5 to 7 minutes if frozen. Drain well and place in a bowl. Pour the mustard vinaigrette over the artichokes coating them well.
*
Finely chop the fennel and the onion. Combine with chicken meat and 1/2 of the artichoke hearts in a large bowl. Combine mayo with he remaining vinegar, mustard and salt and pepper. Toss the mixture with the chicken, fennel and artichoke hearts.
*
The salad may be kept tightly covered and refrigerated for up to 8 hours.

Memories in the Attic

I own a tiny, 3 bedroom house, of which only 2 bedrooms get used, one for dreaming and the other for, well, blogging. The third sits on the side of the house, alone and full of junk, used only in passing when I need a place to store something.

The door is always shut.

I've been meaning to organize it for months, who knows, maybe even years. But this weekend, I put my mind to it and cleaned it out. Minus a vacuum job and possibly some paint (we'll see how tired I am later) the room looks good.

Part of cleaning my tiny guest room involved going in my attic. Most of the stuff that occupied the floor, you see, really belonged upstairs. But I hate it up there-I'm always afraid of vampires, ghosts or a rabid squirrel.

Today, after hours of sweaty, dusty work, I sucked it up and pulled down the stairs. As boxes of unused stuff went up, memories came down.

Cards, pictures, books...things I could not keep around the house years ago, but am now free to have. Sure, they'll still stay stored, but they are now within my reach-whenever I want them to be.

As I was going through one box in particular, I found all of the emails that Jamie and I exchanged during our dating. It could easily have been 2 large coffee table books in thickness.

I didn't read any of them. Upon noticing them, I quickly pulled them from the box of memories and threw them in the garbage.

The box has a lot more room for more memories now.