There's No Friends Like Old Friends

Nichole: I watched Martha Stewart yesterday.

Jade: I love Martha Stewart.

Nichole: I hate her.

Jade: (Look of anger and disgust)

Nichole: She had these chefs on her show, and they were cooking stuff, and she totally overpowered them.

Jade: (Smug face) If I were going to marry a woman, I would marry Martha Stewart.

Tarra: (Look of anger and disgust) What? You mean you wouldn't marry one of us?

The American Dream

Christmas day: dinner at Waffle House. "Free Bird" on the jukebox. No joke.

She Wants That Old Thing Back

You know, that thing called sunshine. Every winter I hit the skids when the cold sets in. I have a little whiny spell of longing for the summer and the things that it entails. Like flip flops, tank tops and jeans. Like a tan. Like being warm. Like not staring into my closet for fifteen minutes each morning, panicking about what to wear in the 40 degree weather. Much less the hour I spent freaking out about what to wear on that night out. Well, that whiny spell is here.
I hate the winter for many reasons. One being that I spent half of my childhood in Michigan, with snow. I then returned for my college years, where I trudged to finals each year in a foot of snow and/or ice. Where the snow that falls in December is still there in March, April and sometimes May. Sure you love cold weather...it's 'cause you've never really had to live in it. Trek to class/work/bar in the dead of a Michigan winter (which lasts for five to six months rather than two) and then tell me how much you enjoy sweater season. I hate being cold. I hate it. I hate bundling up. I mean, I like scarves, but I wouldn't miss them if I never had to wear one again.
The other reason that I hate the winter is because I hate shopping, I suck at fashion, and I'm cheap. Actually, maybe those three reasons are all interrelated...you know, if A=B and B=C, then A=C? Anyway...since it's cold in the winter, you have to wear layers. Shirts have sleeves. Cold weather cuteness requires lots of layering and accessorizing and having a great coat/bag/boot for every flipping outfit. My ideal ensemble consists of a white tank top, jeans, and some high rise flip flops. Thanks. All of that extra fabric and those extra layers require extra effort, and they require more money too. The task of searching out all of those cute separates is daunting. And scary.
And a tan. Dear god, I hate being pale. It makes me sad. It makes me depressed. It makes me hate my body. Give me the sun. Yes, I know it's bad for me. But I love it. I love a sun-kissed glow. If you're not Nicole Kidman, or the EmoMullet, you look better with a tan. Everyone does. Healthy. Slimmer. Thinner. Freckled. Happier. Yes.
Okay, so that's a lot of whining. But really, I could handle the cold and the wintry mix of rain/sleet/snow we've been having lately, if a little sunshine would come my way. But I swear it seems that it hasn't been out for weeks. I need some Vitamin D! I'm not even asking for a tan at this point, just a little brightness on a month that's been looking more like Seattle than Middle Tennessee.
So, I guess, Santa, what I'm asking for this year, besides a WiiFit and a pair of jeans that won't fall apart after two months, is a bright, clear, sunshiney Christmas.

Slow Night, So Long

Well, not really. I just thought it had been a while, and I should update. I should do better. I should draft, and edit, and plan ahead, and think about what I want to write before I write it. I could probably make this better, if I tried. I'm kind of annoyed with myself for not being more consistent. It seems like work. I should look forward to it, right? Not feel guilty. What an idiot, right? Geez. It's a flipping blog that two people, okay, maybe three people, read. I guess I'm depressed. It's my pre-m.s. It took me about twelve years to realize the ways in which my lady cycle affects my thoughts. I'm still getting a hold on that one. So, I'll make a list of sorts.

1. My credit card is currently residing in my freezer. In a block of ice. In an attempt to stop using it and start paying it down. I'm certainly realizing now how often I was whipping that puppy out and charging my life away. Christmas is going to be interesting this year. My list consists of Tony and Austin. Sorry family and friends.
2. I haven' talked to my mother since October. The beginning of October. I realized this on Friday. I should call her, but I don't know what to talk about. I feel guilty about not calling her, but then I remind myself that she doesn't call me either. It's bad, where we are right now, but I don't know how to make it better. If we do talk, we'll tiptoe around the things making it bad, or we'll argue about them, but either way it will stay the same. The situation is stagnant.
3. My car wouldn't start the other night. It was hitting it's "November-piss-Nichole-off" scheduled maintenance request. Tony replaced the battery for me while I was at work. Have I ever mentioned that I have a dreamboat boyfriend? I really do. He's the reason that my credit card is in a block of ice and the only reason I'm surviving without it.
4. Say what you will about the Kings of Leon, but that new album makes me want to take my clothes off and dance. This is the PG-13 version of what it actually makes me want to do once my clothes are off, but you get the idea, no? We went to the concert. Maybe it was a mistake to stand out on the floor, but I wanted to dance. I was surrounded by high school. They made me feel old. Really old, but I enjoyed myself nonetheless. My boyfriend played the drums on my ribs the whole night. This sounds annoying, but it was actually quite endearing. It fulfilled some fantasy I've had pretty much since I discovered boys and love: watching a show with a man standing behind me and his arms wrapped around me. I'm not gonna lie, some of my dance moves were a bit wobbly, it was good to have something to hold onto.
5. The holidays are coming. It'll be weird to not eat turkey, especially since it'll probably be the most healthy and nutritious item on the menu. Oh well, there will be lots of fried, baked and otherwise concocted veggies. I'm excited about putting a tree up, that's my favorite part.
6. I'm ready to get the eff up out of this shitty, roach-infested, claustrophobic apartment. February will come, but I have a feeling that we won't be out of here for a few or more months after that.
7. I need to get back to the regularly scheduled workout regimen. Here I come, Middle Tennessee YMCA. I love what you've done with the place, now let's see what we can do with these little fatty pancakes in my trouble zones. Hello, intervals, Pilates, and strength-training. The winter is better for such things anyway.
8. TV shows you should Netflix: Californication, Weeds, Dead Like Me. TV shows I'm waiting for: Pushing Up Daisies, Ugly Betty Season 3, and Arrested Development Season 3.

Dear God, I Love This Woman

Also...I want to be able to dance like that. Or rather, I want the kind of coordination that allows you to do choreographed dancing. Ha. I'd like to just learn that dance, but I have no such skills. I can't move one leg and one arm together at the same time. The only dance I've ever mastered is the Electric Slide. Choreography is not for me. Anyway, enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVEGfH4s5g

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I also love her shiny thighs, her giant booty, and her big, glorious hair. God. The woman just exudes sex and confidence. I've been singing this song to my boyfriend all weekend.

VOTE

I voted today. So should you. It's a funny feeling. I'm all full up with pride. Early voting is the way to go. Either way...make sure you go.

The Nutcracker

My dad came to visit me this past weekend. It's always good when he visits 'cause he gets a hotel room, and he pays for everything. Since he's my only parent who pays for everything when he visits, I have no problem indulging him. He's also my only parent who's not married to a crazy person and my only parent who visits...so how could I shun him anyway?
In the last few years he's really gotten into antiquing. He collects flashlights (the collection's up to 150 - I kid you not) and he's expanded to toy robots because the flashlights turned out to be so easy to find. My step mom collects eye cups. They're these little glass cups that look like a small goblet and the cup is ovular. People used to use them to rinse their eyes. So anyway, we probably spent 75% of our waking time antiquing. This involved driving from Hermitage to Bell Buckle to Manchester to Murfreesboro. And then the next day from Hermitage to Murfreesboro to Franklin and back again. We also dined at Cracker Barrel, Chili's AND Shoney's this weekend. I ate my weight in disgusting, greasy food this weekend, that's for sure.

I actually enjoy antiquing because I like looking at every single knick-knack in the place. My dad kept saying how I needed to find something to collect to make it more interesting. I would get alternately excited and depressed about vintage ladies' hats and jewelry and furniture that I can't afford. There were also a few characters running the shops as well. I found a piece that made me laugh so much that my dad decided to buy it for me..."cause you just liked it so much." Without further ado, here she is, you crack the nut between her thighs...my kind of woman:


I just hope my dad doesn't start sending me antique nutcrackers now.

One Of Those Days

You know, when you're on edge? When certain people, like your sig o., have the ability to piss you off in about 2 seconds (poor guy) over minor infractions. Infractions that on another day might, say, make you laugh. When you have to remind yourself not to freak the eff out on him for taking your headphones on his run, when YOU spent your entire 45 minute drive home looking forward to the awesome walk/run you were gonna have with your dog, in the cool night air, with all those awesome new tunes you downloaded, the ones that get you super-pumped and full of adrenaline and endurance and stamina. Only to reach an empty home and discover that the idiot has stolen them when he KNEW that's what you were planning to do when you got home? When he KNOWS that it's getting dark earlier and earlier and you MUST go as SOON as you get home? And you can't sit around waiting for him because your blood will boil, and it will be dark and scary in your shitty apartment complex before he returns from the Greenway? But a walk/run without music is pretty much pointless? You know, those days? When you have to refrain from lashing out about headphones, because he just picked a bad day to do a mediocre bit of tomfoolery? Yeah, that day is today. Frick.

Oy Vey

The Squishy Brain Time persists. What I really think about telling you is that I love fruit snacks, Great Value Smiles, to be specific (all fruit snacks were not created equally) and also mayo.
I'm going on a girls' trip this weekend to the Gatlinburg area. I'm excited. It's sort of a group that I don't really hang out with all that much, but I have had a good time with them in the past. This is my second time for this trip with them, and I'm excited. The last trip consisted of a hike, lots of wine, lots of food and a viewing of Deliverance while camped out in a log cabin in the woods.
I'm about halfway through packing and the idea that my luggage contains tennis shoes, flip flops, tank tops and comfy pants is incredibly appealing. I can't wait to get on the road now. I might even ditch my now constant mascara...but given all the pictures (and video!) taken last time, maybe I won't. So yeah, I'm looking forward to some girl time. Should be fun. I may post pictures, depending on how incriminating they are.
A good weekend to all.

Where Am I?

Here I am. I've been gone for some time. I've been having what I have just coined "Squishy Brain Time." You know, when your brain just doesn't want to process things? It just wants to lay dormant and let you autopilot for awhile? Does this happen to other people? I'm glad I've come up with such an accurate term to describe it.
My brother was visiting me, which gave me lots of things to ponder. I'm still pondering and digesting those two weeks.
Labor Day is coming and with it the end of the summer. I don't really feel like I took full advantage of my summer, which bums me out. I love the weather of fall, but I hate having to buy new clothes. That may make me the opposite of most women, but I am super cheap and usually broke, and I never feel as confident about my wardrobe in the fall/winter as I do when it's warm.
My cuke plant has borne me some fruit this summer, but the tomatoes never happened. I have ideas for how to make next summer more successful though.
How's that for random?

In the Land of the Dolls

My brother is visiting me. He's thirteen. He wants to sign in to MySpace all day and update his status to "talkative," play XBox, and listen to really bad music. I'm so glad I'm not thirteen anymore. The end.

Dream Job?

Teaching English in a foreign country.
Talking about dialects all day with other people who get as excited about them as I do.
Traveling the world.
Something that's not the same thing over and over and over again.
Something that's not in an office building.
Hmmmm...

Grappling

I went to a funeral on Sunday. The funeral was for a boy that I went to high school with. He was a boy that I'd had a crush on for most of my adolescence. The thought that he is no longer wandering around this town, or this world, just outside of my periphery, is still incomprehensible to me. Eight years have gone by since I saw him daily, and yet the thought of his permanent absence knocked my heart out of its place. The confident, charming person he was in my mind, and the unhappy man he must have been in his reality...the two people don't coincide in my brain. How can perceptions sometime be so off kilter with reality? The loss of him makes me sad for myself, but more sad for his family, for his wife, and for his many friends. I do believe that his mother was right - she wrote in the note that they read at his funeral - that he touched more hearts and more people in this life than he ever realized. I hope he's found some peace, and that it finds the others missing him now.

I Love the Weekend.

I am so tired this morning. I don't know why. I slept like a rock last night. I woke up in a panic because Tony wasn't there. He's been getting up and sleeping on the couch, because he has this heinous cough that's keeping us both up. So I thought that he had done that, but when I look at the clock I see that it's 7 a.m. and he's actually just in the shower. But I never heard him get up.
When I finally ripped myself out of bed, my eyes were still only partially open. It took a half an hour to feel awake, and I wouldn't say that I'm there yet.
I think it could be the overindulgence in the drinks lately. I haven't exercised all week. I'm feeling like a fatty. A tired one. Good thing the weekend is coming, and I get to start over again next week. Oh yeah, and sleep.

Um...so...

I have ten baby cucumbers! Yeah. Ten! I counted them last night.

Cheesy Pick-up Lines

Are actually my favorite kind. I don't think I'm well-versed enough in the ways of the world to spot a really smooth move, should it have ever been laid upon me. So I'd always be willing to give a guy some credit for even trying these lame 2-liners. Something today brought up my all-time favorites. In descending order...
#1. Guy: You've got great hair.
Girl: (Smiles gratefully) Thanks!
Guy: It would look even better in my lap.
Surprisingly, no one at work had heard this before! And it's been my favorite since I was like 17.

#2. Guy: Are you tired?
Girl: Um...no, why?
Guy: From running through my mind all day.
(This one is particularly funny to me, because this is typically the first time that guy has ever seen girl).

#3. Guy: Are you from Tennessee?
Girl: Actually, yeah I am. Why?
Guy: 'Cause you're the only 10 I see.
(I used to get this one a lot when I was at school in Michigan. I'd always get excited like it was my sweet accent that they were recognizing. Not so much. It usually came from people who already knew that's where I was from anyway.).

#4. Guy: Those are nice jeans.
Girl: Thanks.
Guy: They'd look even better in a ball on my floor.

#5. Guy: Did it hurt?
Girl: Did what hurt?
Guy: You know, when you fell from heaven. Did it hurt?

Oh, my. These are so hilarious to me. I think in my single days, I'd have hooked up with a guy just for being goofy enough to try one out on me. Assuming that he was saying it ironically, of course. Anyway, ladies...I've thrown open the gauntlet (to quote Good Will Hunting...um, and some other guy, I think), I know you've got some. Share and share alike.

I've Got a Cuke!

It looks like a gherkin, but there it is.

My garden consists of three pots. The camera died before I got a shot of the cherry tomato plant. See how my cucumber plant is trying to take over the world? By strangling the tomatoes?

Ponderous

Well, it's been kind of a boring weekend. We went to an 80's party on Friday night, which was fun. Tony and I definitely had the best costumes of all the attendees. It should be noted that only our table and about two others even knew about the theme. But the bartenders appreciated our efforts.

Other than that it's been let's lay around and talk about whether or not we should get a new dog. Tony wants one. I want one, just not in our apartment. But then I think, wouldn't it be better to have the puppy mostly trained and ready once we're in our own house, as opposed to starting it all when we're not in a rental property? We pretty much decided that we are both too indecisive about it, and that that is a sign that we aren't ready for dog #2. I did get excited about the prospect of a puppy galumphing about though.

It's time to kick in the overtime. The summer is always harder for me to focus at work. I find myself gazing out the window at the sun and dreaming of the sweet tan that I could be working on by my pool. I find myself craving half days and days off for no reason other than to not be at work.

But. My brother is coming to visit soon, and I'll need extra cash for while he's here, so I need to start padding those paychecks a little. Tony and I also want to move out of this apartment and hopefully into a house when our lease is up here, that means that I need to start paying down some debt and trying to make a little savings nest. That means I need to make more money. That means I need to work overtime. Or get a second job. I think at least until the summer is over, I'll focus on overtime.

Blegh. I'm not feeling it, but sometimes it's necessary. I've also been a little less than stellar at work lately, so I guess it's time to get back to my previous self in that respect as well.

Change Is Hard. I Should Know.

It's time for a change. Something...I don't know what or how, but I am in an intellectual rut. I am coasting. I need to make a change. I need a challenge. I need to feel like I'm doing more than I am now.

Endorsements

I have about a bazillion of these Old Navy Women's Long Rib Knit Tanks. I kind of love them. If your mind still works in the land of Crayola markers, they come in both Bold and Classic colors. They have also been revamping the colors each season (I started buying them at Christmas). They are cheap and wash well. I just thought you should know.
Last night we went to see Wanted. It was pretty good as far as action flicks go. Quite funny, and I liked the plot. It got a little weirdly gruesome in some parts.
We also saw Walle last week, and it was amazing. They went way beyond the whole computer animated-child oriented thing this time. It was aesthetically beautiful, and because the main characters don't really speak, a lot of the humor was visual - in gestures and facial expressions and situations. There was also a great moral, a moving love story. See it. Really.
That's all I've got for now. I feel like I should do a weekend update, 'cause we lived a full life this weekend, but I don't have the energy or time. So, this is all you get.

What a Weekend

Wow. I spent a lot of money this weekend. You wouldn't expect pasta salad and hot chicken fests to cost so much, but they sort of add up. It was a good one though. We really packed a lot in. We drank a bit too. Some nights maybe a little too much. But it was really fun.
Being the awesome place that they are, my employers gave us a half day on Thursday. I hit up the Y with my lady friend, the Brit, and then we headed to my pool for a few hours of sun before going over the the Mullet's to help her with her pre-bbq chopping and mixing. I made a delicious pasta salad and had some wine, but made it home fairly early and in bed by 10. Boyfriend came home from Happy Hour a little later.
I kept wondering why he wasn't super psyched about the Hot Chicken Fest as we were getting ready to go on Friday. Finally I realized that he was hungover. We then proceeded to wait in line (2, actually - one to order, one to pick up) for Prince's Hot Chicken. The chicken was hot, the day was hot, but I think it was worth it. It took us about an hour, but we emerged victorious with two baskets of chicken. The mouse was totally awesome and grabbed me some fish from Bolton's, and it was delicious. Then we made our way to the Mullet's for a "mixed" bbq. It was her first time mixing different crowds, and I think it went off without a hitch. The food was effing amazing. All that chopping from the night before really paid off. There were barbecued riblets and chicken legs. There were spiced and herbed shish-kebabs of veggies (bell peppers, mushrooms, zucchini) and tofu. There was a delicious pasta salad prepared by yours truly. A mint fruit salad and deviled eggs rounded out the table. I think there was more, but I've tried to block out how much I ate. In addition, there was plenty of beer and my new favorite, bellinis. Yum.
We were supposed to go watch the fireworks after this, but Tony and I lamed out and went home. We got Dairy Queen (yes, like I needed more food), and we watched the fireworks on TV, which I'd been bashing the entire week when I saw the commercials. The good thing was that you could hear the orchestra. That is all.
Saturday morning we got up fresh and ready for life. We went to the mouse's to help her move into her new place. It was surprisingly speedy, as she had lots of strapping men (I'm totally including my boyfriend in this one) to help. She paid us in pizza and beer. An 18 pack of Miller Lite is nothing to complain about for a few hours of manual labor.
We headed home and got ready for the Poets & Pirates tour (Gary Allan, Lee Ann Rimes, Sammy Hagar (I know, right), Keith Urban, and Kenny Chesney). We totally brought the almost case of beer with us and drank in the car, just the two of us. It was actually really fun. We hit up the concert at the end of Hagar's set, and boogied our booties off to the man, Keith Uuuur-ban. We left a little early to hit up a party, by which time I was starving. I made friends with the dog and cat of the house, raided the fridge, and made the host promise to take me to the movies on Monday. I forgot some of the night.
Sunday I nursed a little hangover at the pool with some poolside reading and intermittent dips. We rented movies and got junk food. And rounded out our full, full weekend with two cheesy movies, The Bucket List and Definitely, Maybe, both of which exceeded expectations.
How's that for packin' it all in?

Return

So Michigan was good. I think I'd have enjoyed myself a little more if there weren't other people visiting for the pig roast, and if we'd had more time to chill out with the family (as opposed to preparing for the party day and entertaining guests). My dog had an awesome time galloping through the fields. I got to see my brother, who is finally as tall as me. And my mom was actually around this time. Tony and I re-lived our golden love days for a few hours in East Lansing. My dad gave me some strawberries from his garden. They were amazing. They're going on my list for next year's garden. I hope that we'll be in a house by then so that we can have a real garden. And a compost heap.
I'm kind of on comedown. I don't really know how to describe it, so I won't try.
I gave blood today, so I ate a shit-ton of food and don't have to feel guilty about not working out. Yum, oatmeal creme pies.
My cucumbers have their first flowers. Now I need some bees to get to pollinatin' so that I can get some cukes. I was pretty excited to see that they had gotten huge while we were gone. I came home to tendrils for grasping the trellis and yellow flowers and leaves bigger than my hand. I guess Mother Nature doesn't need me to water my plants after all.

On Second Thought

My crazy family is already driving me crazy. I find that my grandmother is demanding our company, even though she's already got a full house and there are empty beds down the road. But she doesn't want us in the empty beds, she wants us on air mattresses in the den and the basement. Have I mentioned that my grandparents are very conservative, strict Catholics? Tony and I must sleep in separate beds (usually on separate floors) when we visit. My grandma talks about it with relish, like she's really stickin' it to us. And I'm like, "Grandma, we live together. We sleep together all the time. If your rule bothered us that much, we'd stay at my dad's." But I let her keep her victories.
My mom is doing the "you be the middle man with your stepdad and your brother even though I'm a grown woman and should be able to plan for your visits accordingly" thing. Good Lord. I feel for my brother. I hope he survives his adolescence unscathed. I'm not sure what the odds are, though. Who does survive adolescence unscathed anyway?
But alas. We decided to bring the pup. What's the point of a small-ish dog if you're not going to take him on road trips, anyway? He's freshly bathed, so hopefully he can keep his face out of his butthole for a few days. Hopefully he won't find anything dead to roll in this time.
Once we get through the drive, it should be smooth sailing, though. No plans other than to go visit my dad. We'll play some cards. We'll play some board games. We'll visit with family. We'll eat a lot of food that's really bad for us, and we'll soak up the love. So I think on third thought, I'll be a little easier on the ol' loved ones.

Don't Do This

Um...so if you see your bowl of 1+ week-old black beans sitting innocently in their bowl in the work fridge, don't, under any circumstances, dump them into the garbage disposal. Should you follow this unsuspecting path, you will, instead of trapping the sulfuric (read: fart) smell of the beans into the pipes, be spreading it out into the office. It will take about 2.5 minutes for the entire floor to start muttering about the awful smell and wondering aloud about its origin. It will seep its stinky way into the offices at the other end of the building. People coming from other floors will ask in disgust, "What is that awful smell?"
You will be forced to confess that you are its origin. This is not the kind of shame that you want to subject yourself to. Take it from me.
In attempts to cover up your shame, some co-workers might spray Oust and Febreze into the atmosphere, which instead of making the smell better, simply give you a headache on top of the sewage smell. Oh, happy day.
Diffusion* took no time to humiliate me, but is taking its sweet time in remedying the 1st floor stink.
Don't do it.

*Movement of a fluid from an area of higher concentration to an area of lower concentration. Thank you, Mrs. Royal, 10th grade biology.

Summer Solstice

Had a good weekend. Friday we had 2for1's at the local Chili's. I got a quesadilla explosion that turned out to be a salad. I made up for it by getting a sauteed veggie quesadilla at the Rosepepper on Saturday. It was delicious. The margaritas weren't bad either.
We went to a party celebrating the start of the summer. Work friends, old friends, new friends even. A dance party. A little drama. Swimming in undies. A whirlpool. We got home and made eggs, which were somehow all over my kitchen the next morning. Went to bed with the chirping of the birds. Not a bad night. Sometimes good nights make for bad mornings, though.
My boss's words of wisdom: "A hangover lasts a day, but the memories and fun you make, they last a lifetime." Well said, my friend. Well said.
We're going to Michigan for a long weekend. Leaving on Thursday and coming home Sunday or Monday. My grandparents have a pig roast in their backyard every year. They invite tons of their friends. It should be fun. I haven't seen my family since Christmas. My mom has dropped her douchebag husband (again), so I'm looking forward to actually seeing her this time. I think she and my grandmother might be having a custody battle over Tony's and my affections, 'cause I got a call last week asking where we'd be staying...this just makes me laugh and feel loved. It's nice to be popular.

Last Night

Last night I watched a good, but depressing, movie with my boyfriend. It was called The Air I Breathe. I'll be holy crapped if Brendan Fraser and Sarah Michelle Gellar weren't both really impressive. Whilst the movie was playing, I baked some squash. This provided for timely interruptions from the sad things happening on my tv.
To rejuvenate ourselves after the depression, Boomy and I danced around the living room to various pop songs. Tony joined us from the other room. He put on one of my Ladies Golf Day shirts, which is conveniently made to fit short-torso'd women shaped like tater tots. He belly-danced to Shakira's Hips Don't Lie. It was hot. Okay, funny, not hot... The rest of our playlist included:
Our Song - Taylor Swift
Picture to Burn - Taylor Swift
Fergalicious - Fergie
Viva La Vida - Coldplay
Dontcha - Pussycat Dolls
Buttons - Pussycat Dolls
Damaged - Danity Kane
Umbrella - Rihanna
Shake It - Metro Station
I'm not gonna' lie. It was awesome. And kind of sweaty. And it made me happy.

Jesus Christo*

People I work with are annoying. I know that people are bound to be annoying when you're forced to spend 40 hours with people not of your own choosing. Hell, people get annoying when they are of your own choosing.
But, Jesus Christ, go out in the hallway to discuss which brand of baby food your wife should buy and argue about what size entertainment center y'all need. Take your cell phone and stand in the lobby when you call Disneyland for the seventh time this month to discuss their breakfast options and whether they can reduce the prices if you don't eat breakfast on the fifth and sixth mornings of your stay.
Yes, we're a music publishing company. Yes, they give us all stereos for our desks and even encourage us to wire the speakers up to our computers so that we can listen to our iTunes. But for fuck's sake, if you don't have a recording contract, I don't want to listen to you sing. Or hum. Or whistle. I know the allure. I am a born singer with a terrible voice. That's why I bottle it up and save it for the ride home. And don't fucking giggle at your talk radio programs. I hate your chuckle/giggle/snicker. Almost as much as I hate you. Okay, not all of you. Just a few. Some days I can take it. Today is not one of them.
It's going to be a long, effing day.
Someone needs a vacation, ya think?

*sorry, grandpa, this one was cuss-tastic.

Weekends Are For Babies

Like myself. The end of every weekend is a big shock to me lately. It gets to be Tuesday before I can face the facts.
I had a pretty good weekend. I don't know why it seemed so stellar. In hindsight, I realize I didn't do anything incredibly phenomenal, but still, it was good.
T-bone and I started out the weekend with some strawberry margaritas (his pick) at La Hacienda by our crib. A pitcher got us both 'bout tipsy. Then we got drunk and forgot what we did. Just kidding, I just felt like quoting a little Akon, there. We went home, carried on with the fun, and then debated the merits of heading out or staying in. He promised me some chauffering, but didn't come through, and I ended up falling asleep to the sweet sounds of Will Ferrell & Andre 3000 in their feature film, Semi-Pro, the movies just don't keep me awake these days.
Saturday we went to the Y, where I sweated my A off to my newly updated Shuffle. It's amazing the difference that fresh music will make to your motivation. Then I hit up my pool, where I was supposed to read Crime and Punishment for my book club, but instead my friend the mouse came and we had a lovely afternoon of gossip and girltalk. Mucho!
Saturday night we headed to Tony's parents' campsite and roasted some marshmallows and made Boom swim out to me in a canoe. He did not love it, but he really did a nice job of convincing me of the lengths he would go to for his favorite human.
Sunday morning Tony's parents came over and we made them omelets. Tony and I were a well-oiled machine in our tiny kitchen. It made my heart sing. The omelets weren't bad either. Sauteed onions, red peppers, zucchini & asparagus were thrown in with the eggs and some pepperjack/velveeta combo. The effect was gorgeous. We made sausage and biscuits for the meateaters.
Later we had a little couple's pool time. The weekly summer film club was cancelled, so I did yoga (which I'm still not so sweet at), and we rounded out the evening with grocery shopping that tipped the scales at $100.32 for a half a cart of junk. Life is really quite pricey.
We-helllll...aren't you glad you know about all of that? I think I liked my boyfriend a lot this weekend. I think that's what made it great. You know? When you don't bicker, and you can take a step back and appreciate a moment while you're actually in it. Priceless.

I am tired

I go to bed tired. I wake up tired. I am not doing anything too strenuous. Is it my diet? I'm taking supplements.
I'm working for the weekend.
I'm working out.
I'm working overtime.
But I'm not sure what I'm working toward.

Scoliosis

Okay, it's not scoliosis, but I don't know what it is.
I have one bump of spine that has been sore for a while. Maybe months. Over the winter I assumed it was the knot on the back of my coat that rubbed there when I drove. Or the place where my dog invariably dug his bony spine into mine when he curled up against me in bed.
I noticed it on Monday, and thought to myself, "Why are you still here? Why won't you go away?" Boom doesn't lay in that spot so much anymore. I haven't worn any tie-in-the-back shirts in a few months. It feels like a bruise. My back doesn't hurt. It's not sore, it's just if you poke that one bone, it feels bruised.
I asked Tony to look at it. He said it's got a little rash. He thinks it's ringworm. I've seen ringworm, and I don't think that's what it is. Now I'm a little afraid that I've got some serious condition that I've not even been paying attention to.
Time to go to the walk-in clinic just to make sure...

Cross-Posting

I'll be honest and admit that I had to look that word up a few weeks ago. But anyway, here's the story of the snake in the apartment. It was too good not to share:

Yes, so to add to the excitement of "what large insect will appear in our apartment today," on Sunday there was a snake slithering around our room. And not, like, a smallish, foot-long skinny snake. This thing was black and at least an inch in diameter and about 2-3 feet long. I am not exaggerating. It was a damn big snake to be galloping around my bedroom. I mean, we don't live in the rain forest, now do we?
Ashlyn and Charlie had spent the night with us on Saturday (on the floor, I might add). We were getting ready to take them back home, and getting stuff together, when Tony comes hauling ass out of the bedroom hollering, "Oh My God!" scoops up Boom and ushers me, Ashlyn and Charlie out the door, without telling us what is even in the bedroom. I have to tell Tony to stop so that we can put the leash on Boom before he chucks the dog out the door. Finally, he's like, "There's a snake in the bedroom." WTF?
So we all stand outside and panic a little. Charlie starts squalling about a snake biting him. We calm down, and I ask Tony if he can go back in and get my pants (this story would be infinitely funnier if I'd been in my underwear, but sadly, it was some skimpy shorts). And Tony's like, "No. Uh uh."
I wasn't quite so graceful at this point. I mean, what good is a boyfriend with giant muscles if he refuses to save your pants when you need them the most? So I go back into the bedroom, and, once I spot the said slytherin, I change my pants and watch it move around the room, wondering what the hell to do, since the office isn't open yet and we don't know what kind it is or whether it's poisonous or how it got in. I call the emergency maintenance line and leave a message. I keep Boom on his leash so he doesn't leap to my rescue by attacking the snake and making a big mess. Tony takes the kids back to their mom's, but not before Ashlyn comes into the bedroom with me (after repeated requests to see the snake), and she says, "Um, Nichole...I'm the only one who hasn't seen the snake, even Charlie saw it..."
The maintenance guy came in like 20 minutes and scooped it up with a lightbulb reacher. Goodbye, snake. Please don't come back. Or any of your brethren.
Crazy big snakes, crazy big roaches, at least no brown recluses at this point. The funny thing is, the snake bothered me way less than the roaches. I don't know why. I guess 'cause Tony saw it first, so he got the whole shock factor, which I avoided, and I figure it's a once in a lifetime sort of thing.
These are the days of our lives.

I'm a...

Yep. That's me. Chickened out on the cardio kickboxing class. I had several excuses, the first of which being my heinous gas and the second, and most compelling, that my boyfriend was at home waiting for me and promised we could make quesadillas together. So no, I can't report on the ass-kicking I got from the exercise class, or say that I've finally conquered my fears of public, synchronized exercise. Maybe next week?

But my quesadillas did turn out deliciously, and we watched the season finale of The Office, which was quite entertaining. I'll take an hour of Jim Halpert any day of my life. It was a good episode. They managed to bring back a little of that bittersweet twinge that used to be found in every single episode. I like how everything's been going well for Jim and Pam, but I knew it couldn't last. Also, how about this new Holly character? And Dwight's comment at the end? I can't wait for next season. And uh, God, I love the summer, but I hate summer programming, all the more reason to join that exercise class.

H2Orobics

So...the class went well. I was surprised by how difficult it was. I sort of imagined standing in lines and jumping around a little and splashing. It was a bit more intense than that. We had the whole length of the pool at our disposal, and the instructor (Colleen, I think) would show us how to do something and once we got the hang of it, she would send us off down to the other end. Once you got to the end, you had to come back by doing said exercise backwards. There were one or two things that I wasn't sure I was going to make it through. (i.e. sitting on a kickboard with your legs crossed and breast-stroking your entire way to the other end of the pool while sitting up straight on the board. I thought my arms were going to come off).
There were two older dudes and another woman there when I got there. I only have one bikini, which is about...um, 4 years old, and has been begging for replacement for the past two years. I didn't want to use my undesirable bathing suit as an excuse though, so I brought a tank top to go over it, just in case. Good thing. By the end of the hour, that string bikini was sagging down to my belly button, and my butt crack was most certainly on view for the lifeguard during several jumpy-type maneuvers. Ha ha. The good thing about having people that weren't my age in there was that I was a lot less embarassed than I would have been if it had been a class full of young women.
It was a good experience though. I'm definitely going to make it a once a week endeavor, but I'm definitely going to have to get a one-piece.
Tonight is the cardio kickbox class that I've been wanting to go to for the past month or two. I've been afraid to go by myself, but now that I've gone to one alone, I feel a little more confident. Although I'm still super nervous. I'm worried that I won't be able to keep up. But I think I'm going to suck it up and go anyway. We'll see...whew.

B Vitamins & Other Horse*@%!

Does it count as not cussing if I just put asterisks and ampersands in place of the bad word? Probably not.
Well, I have started taking some B vitamins and Iron supplements, since I'm not eating much meat anymore. It makes me feel good to do something beneficial for my body, and I swear that my mood has been slightly altered for the better by the B complex. Maybe it's only a placebo effect, but I'll take a placebo effect over no effect. The only problem with the vitamins is that they make my pee really yellow. I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. I drink a fair amount of water. My urine is usually practically clear, which I take some perverse pride in, apparently. Since I started taking these vitamins, it's been like a neon light there, glowing up at me from the commode. It makes me feel kind of toxic and makes me wonder if the vitamins are getting broken down. Hmm...there's food for thought.
I've re-dedicated myself to health this week. It seems like I re-dedicate myself to a healthy lifestyle every two months or so. I start out strong and then start to backslide. But I have a date in mind, June 28, when I go home to see my family, and I want to be in better shape by then. I've got a few fat pockets and a whole lot of cellulite that I want to attack. I'm trying to come up with a plan of action that's sustainable. My main problem is that I really love food, and I've never been any good at resisting something that appeals to me.
I'm going to a shallow water aerobics class at the Y tonight. First time ever. I'll let you know how it goes.

Knock You on Your Ass Sensor

Haven't heard of that? A knock sensor is this little mechanism on your car's engine that monitors the gasoline/spark plug/piston chugging of your engine to optimize the timing of the explosion. (That's a rough description - don't quote me on it). That little gizmo cost me over $600 to identify and correct last year. And it was just loose, which is why it took four mechanics to figure out why my check engine light wouldn't go off so that I could pass my emissions test.
And apparently, it has struck again. I took my car to Autozone last night after work so that they could run the diagnostic on it. It came back as the knock sensor again. So I guess I'll be taking it back to Trickett Honda, where they'll probably charge me another $100 to tighten it, so that it can loosen again in six months.
Jesus Christo. Sometimes, I just want to run my car into a pond and claim that it's been stolen. Or I wish that it would spontaneously combust while I'm not in it. I have about a year left to pay on it, and it has cost me so much extra money in repairs and tows and tickets (for expired registration), that at this point I could have bought a brand new Honda and saved myself the time and trouble. Cuss, cuss, cuss. I mean, it would be worth four more years of car payments if I could get rid of this p.o.s. car without paying the remaining balance. But that doesn't happen in the real world, now does it?
Note to self: Suck it up, honey. You're building character. It could be worse, right?

MFer

My mother heffing check engine light came back on again this morning! Really, Honda car gods? Do you hate me so? The answer to that is, yes. Words will not describe my furor if I have to spend the extra money coming to me this week on another fucking car repair. GD, lemon. Ugh.

Charlie <3 Mariokart

So...we went out to Tony's mom's tonight for dinner. As we were getting about ready to leave, his niece and nephew got there. We were all talking about Mariokart, and Tony's brother was talking about racing Tony's dad, Freddie, and Tony's nephew, Charlie, on-line. If you're a novice about such things, you should know that you can hook your Wii (or Xbox or whatever) up to the Internet, and play your games against a world full of gamers. You can also meet up with your friends and race games with them. Tony's brother and dad and nephew had all played against eachother this way last night.
When we were leaving tonight, Charlie asked us, "Are you going to be on-line tonight?" If we said yes, we got a high five.
Did I mention that he's five?

Walkin' On Broken Glass

I heard this song on the way to work this morning. And I don't guess I've ever paid attention, but, why is the song so uptempo and happy feeling when she's singing about walking on glass? Broken glass? I don't know. Maybe that's the point. I haven't listened to all of the words, maybe she explains some kind of conondrum in between the choruses (chori?)?
Well, I'm feeling happy like the tempo of the song. Even though I was really tired this morning...from what, I'm not sure. Last night I arrived home from the YMCA to my boyfriend making dinner (oh so healthy - fish sticks and mac & cheese, but whatever, we eat fairly well, the guy should get some fish sticks and mac & cheese every once in a while, don't you think?). Also waiting for me were several stalks in my little pre-container garden!!! I wasn't feeling especially positive about it, considering that they weren't getting much sun, and I was afraid they were too cold. So how excited was I when I saw those? Four healthy looking stalks and some more peeking through the compost (someone read her gardening book. score!). One of cucumber and several of tomatoes. Now I'm really, super excited, but a little unsure of what to do now? Do I leave the plastic wrap on there for the full six weeks? Won't it stunt their growth? Hmmm...sounds like I need to do some Googling, no?
I also kicked Mariokart's a* last night and opened up a new board. How pumped am I? I know Tony is so jealous because he's been beating me at games all weekend, and I'm sure he wanted to be the first one to open a mystery board. I must say I have a slightly victorious glow from this achievement. I think a Wii night with my work ladies will be in order sometime soon.

*I'm trying to cuss less, in honor of my revered grandpa.

Bush Check

Does that sound dirty to you? It's 'cause you're dirty. No really...this is what my bff from high school calls that stimulus package tax rebate that we'll be getting in the next month or so. She's not being ironical either...and I find it to be incredibly funny.
I've been surfing etsy, and I think I've found a few items that I might want to spend my Bush Check on. Besides a wax, that is...
1) What the Heck Pillows - from littlelegwarmers.
2) Mathilde or Corinne - among others from Unconventionalida (or the eyes, or the albino twins, or ophelia...oh so many). I pretty much like everything listed here...so I don't know how I'll decide...probably by price. As you can see from her displays, they look even better grouped together, so I don't see how I can buy just one.
3) Yellow Aviary Purse from theseawithin...and there are so many on here as well! I think this girl might be after theorangebicycle's own heart when it comes to fabric...
Bush that check, girls! Buy handmade.

And The Beat Goes On

Hmmm...after a glorious weekend, I find myself back at work. Yes, it's Tuesday, and yet I'm still finding it slightly stunning to the senses that my weekend is already over.
It was a pretty good one. They let us off at three on Friday, so after an extended lunch I arrived back at work to discover that I only had to work one more hour (nice!). Then I went home and vegged out with the boyfriend and ate some Mexican food. Cinco de Mayo has a great vegetarian plate. It's funny, 'cause the word "vegetarian" conjures up all these images of health and fitness, and then you get this plate of bubbling cheese, refried beans, flour tortillas and mexican rice. It's not so healthy after all, but hot damn, is it tasty. Then we re-watched The Departed, which we bought a long time ago, but was m.i.a. for a while. If you haven't seen it, you really should. Especially if you're a lady who may or may not have had a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio at some point in your life. He's got this raging vulnerability and sexiness throughout the film that I really hadn't experienced in some time. Oh yeah, and a lot of people die. So be prepared for that too.
Saturday we got up early and headed over to the Herb Society Plant Sale at the fairgrounds. We scored some lime basil (good for salads and fish, they tell me), oregano, thyme and a sweet potato plant. Still undecided as to whether the sweet potato plant actually grows potatos. But that was kind of the point. Then I took Tony for his first Chicago-style dog at Hot Diggity Dogs. I think he enjoyed it. We went out downtown for a friend's birthday that night, but managed to drink minimally enough to avoid a hangover in the morning. Nice.
Sunday was really domestic. We were kind of bickery on Saturday, which I always find upsetting even when I can't help myself for getting annoyed with the way his nose whistles sometimes when he breathes ("Could you stop breathing.?."), but we totally made up for it on Sunday, which makes me happy. Love was all around. So we went grocery shopping and I got some tomato and cucumber seeds to try to grow my own container garden. I'm a little worried that I have started too late, but we'll see how it goes. I currently have 90 seeds sitting in a little greenhouse container in front of my sliding glass door. I've never done it before. I'm hoping for good things.
Oh yeah, and I worked out both days of the weekend. High fives for me. Woo.
Sunday night we watched The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. If you haven't seen it, or heard of it, you should really check it out. It's got the awkwardness of The Office combined with an underdog story of Rocky proportions, except that it's all real! Enjoy.

Eeeek

Hum...so my credit card has been spiraling out of control. I realized a few months ago that since I've been paying rent (for the past year) and a car payment (for the past three years) - my income to debt ratio is not developing in a positive direction. My payments, no matter how large, to my credit card balance, never seem to make a dent. I need to seek out some extra income. I need to figure out some ways to market my skills (these include reading, writing and arithmetic, baking a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies, keeping my plants alive, and walking my dog, among other things).
After reading this book a year or two ago, I was thinking about selling my used panties on-line (anonymously, of course), but after doing a little research, I realized it was a much dirtier endeavor than I had anticipated.
To exacerbate the problem, my wonderful (no, really, they are) credit union keeps raising my credit limit every time that the balance gets a little too close to it.
I really need to reign myself in. It's just frustrating because it's not like I'm going on shopping sprees. It's either groceries, car troubles, or random things like a dinner here - okay, the bar isn't necessary. Anyway, I think I need to take some kind of class on how to live within my means. But I'm not living a champagne life on a beer budget. I'm floundering through a beer life on a beer budget. This is getting ridiculous. It's also a little too personal to be blogging about, but sometimes you just have to say wtf.

Nervosa

Hmmm...so I'm getting my hair cut this evening. I'm a pretty non-commital type woman when it comes to such things. I've gotten my hair cut about...five times in the last three years, and two of them were Valentine's Day presents. I can't seem to find a person that I like enough to stick with, and it's always so pricey. I've rooted out a rather inexpensive lady, and I have high hopes. She comes recommended by a friend who always has really great hair, and I'm hoping for some magic.
I'm just in one of those slumps where I don't like anything about my appearance. I've been working out and trying to eat more healthfully, but I'm not seeing much progress. Last year's bathing suit season was the schlumpiest I've been, and I don't want to feel that way about it again this year.
So anyway, I'm hoping to get a new haircut that I really like (or at least don't hate), and maybe it will give me good motivation for skipping the dessert. You know, like, "No, Nichole, you don't need those donuts, they won't help your body match your awesome hair."
I've got in mind (& picture) the cut that I want (it's actually the same picture that I've taken to every stylist - so we'll see what this woman's interpretation is), but I'm not sure what to do with the color. I dyed it dark just before Christmas after years of highlights and being pretty much blonde. I like it well enough in real life, and it's actually pretty close to my natural color now, but I don't like it in pictures. It often has a reddish, brassy tint, and I think that it makes my reddish face look more red. So, I don't know. We'll see. If I like it I might post a picture. If I don't, then this wedding I have to go to tomorrow is going to be unpleasant.

A lot of things

A lot of things make me wish I had a rockin' body and big ol' flashy titties, but nothing so much as this, of late. Talk about an inferiority complex.

April Showers

Boy, am I ready for the summer. The heat. The tank tops. The tan. Bring it on, like a Kirsten Dunst movie. I'm there.
I think I'm moving beyond my weird brain funk of last week. Lots of whirly thoughts, but I got a few short convos in with my bff, and they helped me clear my head a little and relax.
I had a pretty good weekend. Vegged out with the boy toy on Friday after an afternoon at the Country Music Hall of Fame. I have to say that I am growing to appreciate the feeling of waking up on Saturday morning without nausea, headache, or regret. But then I woke up with those on Sunday anyway, and I thought to myself, "Why don't we ever learn?" So anyway, probably bad timing, but I think I'm going to limit my alcohol intake for a while. Although Saturday night was fun. Circle of Death really lived up to its name.
Tony's birthday was on Sunday, and I got him this watch that he really wanted, and he was really a very gracious gift-receiver. You can't argue with someone who coddles and polishes and flashes for the next three days the present you got him for his birthday. I was happy that he liked it so much.
So this Thursday is our five-year anniversary. Five years we've been together. We've been through some shit. We've been through some starry nights and happiness too. Can't help but wonder what's in store for the next five years?

A Wild Hair

Do you know what I find to be absolute torture? When you find those two wild hairs that grow on your face (I actually have three. One on my chin. It's bristley like pig hair. And two crazy black witch hairs that grow on my cheek/jawline), and you can't get to any tweezers because you're at work and they're one of the few things that you don't carry in your giant, carry-all of a bag. And why is it that you can sit there all day at work fooling with it, when you have no tweezers, but when you go home, and don't sit on your butt and actually do things, you forget about them, even though your remedy is only inches away. Grr...only to find yourself at work, the following day, in the same desperate situation as yesterday. Will it ever end?
Oh, the plight of the lady.

Look What Wii Found Yesterday

Happiness, in a box.

A picture is worth a thousand words

I made these meatless lasagna rolls last Sunday. They were spectacular. Although, I would probably change the sauce that I used. Here's the recipe:
-10 lasagna rolls (I only ended up using 8)
-1 egg
-1 lb ricotta
-1&1/2 cups fresh mozzarella
-1/2 cup parmesan
-1 cup veggies, such as spinach, mushrooms, zucchini, broccoli, tomatoes, finely chopped (I used more than a cup - two small-ish tomatoes, a handful of spinach, half a zucchini and about a half cup chopped broccoli)
-1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
-garlic salt and pepper to taste
-2 cups tomato sauce
1. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions. Drain.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
3. In a large bowl, combine egg, ricotta, half of the mozzarella, parmesan, veggies, parsley, garlic salt, and pepper. Mix well.
4. Spread the noodles out on a cutting board. Spread a thin layer of the veggie mixture evenly over each noodle.
5. Starting at one end, roll up each noodle.
6. In a shallow baking dish, spread 1 cup of the tomato sauce on the bottom.
7. Add the rolls, seam side down, so they don't unroll and fall apart. Add remaining tomato sauce and remaining mozzarella cheese on top of the rolls.
8. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until cooked through and cheese is melted.

Dream Encyclopedia

I have been having some crazy dreams lately. Sometimes they make absolutely no sense, they're torn from some spasm that my brain was having in hallucinogenic technicolor. Other dreams are practically my real life, and I know exactly what they're about. Catch is, I'm not one of those people who EVER knows that I'm dreaming. My boyfriend says that he can usually stop himself in a bad dream by realizing that it's just a dream. This never happens to me. Maybe once. But I always wake up soaked in relief that I'm not running from a psychopathic killer or searching down endless corridors for a bathroom, only to find a giant room with lots of rickety commodes where I'll be forced to choose the cleanest one and squat upon it in front of other people.
Last night's dream was a very realistic fight with my mother. I'm screaming so intensely that my voice doesn't work. I'm screaming in whispers. And I think I might be pummeling her as well. No question what that's about, since we were fighting about my brother in the dream. No question that I feel guilty and helpless and powerless when I think about the situation. No question that what I say falls on deaf ears anytime I talk to her about it.
The night before last I had several dreams. In one, I had just finished fixing my hair (straightening it, which I never do), and it had turned out quite nicely. Big and beautiful. Until I ran my fingers through it, revealing clumps underneath of what looked like fried potato slices, and turned out to be my scalp flaking off in giant, greasy patches. Words cannot describe my horror. I scraped giant clumps of greasy scalp out, which made a sizable pile. I remember feeling very upset that I would have to wash my hair again after it had turned out so nicely the first time.
My scalp has been a bit flaky lately, but greasy-sliced-potato chunks? Any takers?
Also, in that dream, my apartment looked strangely like Rabbit's hole from Winnie the Pooh. Really, where the hell does my brain come up with this stuff?
I would be oh so happy with one night of happy dreams. To fall asleep and not wake up until it's time to get up for the day.

Hairdiggery = Tomfoolery

I had to take my Boomy to the groomer this morning to get his hair did. He hates it. I think he has learned that a car ride in the morning is nothing to get excited about. As soon as we exit the car, we are greeted by the noise of a million dogs barking. I don't take him to PetSmart anymore, because they didn't do a very good job and they were kind of bitchy on more than one occasion. The good thing about them was that they seemed to like my dog.
Now I take him to the Hermitage Pet Inn. They are attached to a vet and also board animals, which I guess is why there seem to be an insane number of animals squalling when we walk in the door. They seem to do a pretty nice job, but he hates it so much that it makes me wonder if they torture him. He gets all shaky the minute we walk in and spends his time trying to slink out the door. But since he's all shaggy his feet just slide on the tile and I hold him there, running in place. And feel evil. Like a mother abandoning her child. I start to feel really guilty and get distracted when trying to explain how I want his hair, which no one has managed to do yet.
As they lead him away, I want to holler after him, "Please be careful with him. He hasn't pooped yet today!" But then I worry they'll think I'm some sort of d.i.n.k.w.a.d.* obsessed with my dog's bowel movements and that they'll clip his nails extra short to punish me.
So now I sit here during my lunch hour, wishing I could call and check on him. I can just imagine his anxious ass, sitting there all quivery, thinking that I have forsaken him.
The funny thing is that I never like his haircuts. I don't get him cut as often as I probably should, but he has to be maintained or his hair turns into a rastafarian's. It isn't pretty, and it hurts him, and then they have to use a surgical blade to get the mats out (learned my lesson there). But anyway, maybe this time they'll do what I want. Still puffy, just trimmed up and even. With clean ears, a clean butt, and shorter nails.
I think I'll give him some wet food in reward for his torture.

*That's Dual Income No Kids With a Dog for you, mister. And no, I don't care if acronyms are not cool.

On forgiveness

Forgiving seems to be one of those things that's easier said than done. Always a goal, but much often harder to achieve. Suppose one day you just decided to forgive a wrong done you...no apology, no nothing. You just said, this would make me a happier person. A happier being. To forgive. No strings attached, no requirements. You tell your brain, which often renegs on its agreements, this time, there is none of that. This time, the decision made, is done. Will you be happier for it? Can you stick with it? Forgiveness is a thing we can grant for little real sacrifice on our own part. Will Smith once said, "The hate in your heart will consume you too." I think he was right. I am satisfied with this choice. And I will let it go, without lingering discontent. It is my gift to give to myself.

Enough Already

The Clinton hate-mongering is really starting to grate on my nerves. The media coverage is so biased, down to the the language that they use when describing the Obama campaign vs. the Clinton campaign. Obama is this golden boy and Clinton is always "barely holding on" or "fighting to stay there".
And Rush Limbaugh. Don't get me started. What a pompous ass.
Dear god, I'm ready for this to be over. Pick a candidate already so that we can at least end the in-fighting and start bashing the Republicans. I mean, isn't that what this is really supposed to be about anyway?

On Being Good

Tony's niece and nephew, Ashlyn and Charlie, spent the night with us on Saturday. They are six and four, respectively. They talk our ears off. An excerpt from the drive to our place:

Me: Y'all are good kids. Do y'all know that? Are y'all good on purpose or is it just easy for you?

Charlie: My brain says, 'Be bad!.' And I have to say, 'No, brain, be good!' It wants me to be bad, and I have to tell it, 'no.'

Only four, and already expounding the trials and tribulations of life on this here planet.

Sex and the Media

So I guess I'm turning into the most random blogger ever, in addition to being very unproductive at the ol' office. I was supposed to work through my lunch, however, this isn't working out quite to my satisfaction because my boss left for lunch without giving me another project. Now I must ponder the ethics of whether I am still allowed to leave an hour early...
A discussion of last night's episode of LOST led one of my co-workers to state that LOST would be an even better show if it were on HBO or Cinemax, and so could employ the plot twists of cussing and boobs. This from a man, obviously, concerned with the fact that people cuss and have sex in real life, so it should be on LOST too. He and another co-worker cited all of the HBO shows that are superb because of their lack of censorship on non-network programming. These guys love LOST already. But the argument for boobs irriated me a bit. He already loves the show, loves it, is obsessed with it, nevertheless, he wants some boobs. Boobs, he argued, would make LOST a better show.
Surprisingly (and I think to his own surprise), my other male co-worker took my side (sort of) in my claim that boobs would not make the show better nor more realistic. The creators and writers already make an excellent show without resorting to using nudity and language to entertain viewers. They craft intricate story lines and characters to lure their viewers in, and they have generated an incredibly wide and devoted audience. All without gratuitous flashes of Kate's or Claire's boobies. Sex sells, for sure, but don't confuse making the show "better" with your desire to simply see the actresses naked. It might make the show more "movie-like," but it would not make the show more realistic, which, given the willing suspension of disbelief required to watch the show, that's a ridiculous argument for sex on LOST.
I am fairly new to actually sitting down and watching LOST, but I love the conspiracy theories and the lust for the show that viewers have. Shows like Sex in the City, The Sopranos, Big Love, Deadwood, Six Feet Under, and Rome all featured "adult" language and violence and moderately graphic sex, but in some cases, the sex was an integral part of the show (i.e. Sex in the City). LOST, in my personal opinion, would be a very different show than it is now, if it were on a network like HBO, with far fewer limitations. They're obviously already doing something that appeals to much more than a little flash of skin. I guess my point is, just say that you want to see boobs, but don't argue that it makes for a better show.
In a slightly related story, I read this article on cnn.com today. Certainly, sex sells. Everyone uses it. Scantily clad women and rugged men are always getting it on, or leaving the viewer to infer that they're about to, in commercials, from ads for Uncle Ben's Rice to designer jeans. But if anyone should be able to use lingerie and sexy women to sell their products, shouldn't it be a lingerie company?

Disappearing Knife Trick

I put the dishes away this morning, at work, which sometimes pisses me off when I think about how some people here don't do it at all and just leave it to others to take care of things that they use just as much as anyone else. But ooh, let's not get me started on that one. The point is that I noticed our knives are disappearing. We used to have a lot. Today we had two. It's been kind of an issue with all of our silverware for the last few months.
Today it made me wonder whether people are hoarding them now that they've noticed our supply is shrinking, like the gas shortage in the 70's. I can just see people furtively hiding "their" knife in their desk drawers for future use. If only I'd used this method to remain in possession of my cool Starbucks mug, which disappeared after 1.5 weeks here in the office. And no one will fess up to stealing it, even though I know that's what happened.

Funky Tiddly-bits

I'm in a weird funk. I don't want to drink. I don't want to share. I want to stay at home and be domestic.
A Value Vet is opening in Hermitage. I'm excited about that. My dog smells like a$$. I'm not excited about that. It takes a while to pump up my enthusiasm for washing him. My boyfriend has pretty much never done it. When we got our dog, he smelled like chocolate. I have yet to find that delicious shampoo.
I'm pissed off about never having any money. I'm not poor, 'cause I survive, but one more car emergency could finish me. I don't shop for fun. I have a credit card debt that won't go away. When I budget my money for the week, there's barely any left for groceries. Getting paid on Friday and having $0 by Monday is not a common occurrence, it's the common occurrence. Where can I get more money? I need to get some more. Life is expensive. It takes money.
Argh. I'm a pirate. A slightly frustrated and pissed off one.

Mama Wants a Wii

So yeah. I have the Wii bug. I've only played it once, but I want one real bad. There's this cow racing game, where your little Mii sits on the back of a cow and you run down a little track. There are hurdles that you have to jump over and little scarecrows that you get points for hitting. We also played this fun fishing game and some kind of Brain Quest game that I was mucho good at. Tony and I were talking about how so many people like the Wii because it's the anti-video game. I have to kind of agree, because it does not require the traditional hand-eye coordination that most games need. Once they went 3D I pretty much lost all hope. Well, Wii is the game for me. And I will have one.
I also want this super-cool mirror that's hanging out at the Opry Mills mall in a store that I can't remember the name of to save my life. The mirror's kind of quirky and seems pretty one-of-a-kind. We still don't have anything on our walls, and it's the first thing I've seen that I really liked. I'm debating whether to purchase it or not. It costs slightly more than I want to pay for it. I'm wondering whether I'm allowed to haggle or not.
I won the $400 pot for our Super Bowl squares last week, and there was this entire list of things that I wanted to splurge on. But I ended up not getting any of the big ticket items that I wanted...so I guess that's what this blog is about. Other things I want:
-new clothes...lots of new clothes
-a new bathing suit
-teeth whitener
-photos and frames for my apartment walls
Ah...I suppose that's enough coveting for now.

Want, want, want.

Err

Our computer is on the fritz. We've ended up with some spyware or something on it. Or a virus. It's sad how little I understand this realm of computerworld. So anyway, I really wanted to get started with the Long Tall Sally and start being more prolific in the way of blogging, but it looks like it might not be until next week. I'll try to sneak some in during my lunch breaks, I guess.

Stepdad-isms

I don't know if this is standard, if it's something in the gene pool or generation pool or social pool that makes some more prone than others to adopting catch phrases, or if we've all got them, and we just don't notice them in ourselves.
I saw my stepdad this past holiday, and things have been swirling around in my head since then. He and my mom are now divorced, and she's remarried to DB#1, but since my stepdad is my brother's dad he's still around, and since I spent my formative years growing up with him, he'll always be my stepdad to me. If I'm talking about my parents in a collective sense, like, "My parents used to take us here," I mean my mom and stepdad. Any reference to parents as a unit would be describing them.
Anyway, I wander. Key exchanges from my childhood/adolescense:

Stepdad (after any clumsiness or erring): Smooth move, ex-lax.

Nichole: Gosh, my neck hurts.
Stepdad: Oh really, 'cause your face is killing me!

Stepdad: I'm so hungry, I'm seeing dead relatives.

Stepdad: Are you going to the movies?
Nichole: No.
Stepdad: Well, then why are you picking your seat?

Stepdad: Comet...
It tastes like Listerine.
Comet...
It makes your mouth turn green.
Comet...will make you vomit.
So buy some comet, and vomit today.

I think that there was another one about diahrea, cha cha cha. Oh yeah, and "Beans, beans, the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you toot, the more you toot, the better you feel, so eat your beans at every meal."
Funny how things stick with you as you get older. What sticks with you and what falls away. These turns of phrase pop into my head at random times. I long to say, "Well, your face is killing me! Ha ha ha!" when someone complains of a sore back or something. Yet I refrain, for fear of being thought as silly as I once thought my stepdad. Now I realize that these are ingrained in my mind as part of my home life. My childhood. The life with my mother and stepdad before things took a turn or two for the worse and they became miserable together.
He came over to my grandparents' house on Christmas Eve...quite chatty, although the cause of that was quite evident based on the bobbing and weaving. He said, after a discussion of how the in-laws in our family are referred to as outlaws, how he's the only one who's still invited to family events after divorce, he pats my shoulder and says, "And this...this is still my favorite ex-daughter."
Priceless. Dysfunctional. And totally priceless.

Ruminations

The Holidays
Were good, but weird. Not entirely traditional. I am very happy to be home, I must say. Boom supremely enjoyed his vacation, I think. An entire week of kennel-free life, along with sprinting the entire expanse of my grandparents' three-ish acres, five dogs for the humping, and the opportunity to roll in something dead. I felt like the wicked witch this morning when I had to lock him up in his crate for his first nine-hour stint in a week and a half.
Benson's Market
It's this little mom & pop grocery down the road from us. The only place that I've ever been that offers cat food, potted meat, dishwashing liquid and diced tomatoes all in one aisle, with a view of the raw meat at the end. I always expect this great, hometown service when I go there, and I never get it. Never a warm smile, no small talk. Perhaps it's got something to do with my always running in there when they are about to close. Or maybe I'm hoping for too much. I sort of feel like it's a civic duty to go there and buy something, to help keep the little man in business. Maybe they don't appreciate the favor? Maybe I'll just go to WalMart then! So there.
New Year's Resolutions
I'm formulating them in my head. I haven't written them down yet. But I'm feeling really positive right now. I want to make some changes and stick to them. I know that's what everyone wants at this time of year, so I guess just lump me in with the masses. But I had my Y membership before January, so I'm at least still feeling confident about that. More to come on these later.