me: A Blog

Um, yeah ... So, there's this guy. Green eyes, dark hair, finger-able chest hair, full lips. We're in what I'm calling a "transitory relationship" which I think sounds uber-sophisticated and put together since it recognizes his mailbox is in Florida and he's soon be going home to get the mail. But really it's looking like he's another example of how badly Karma is pissed at me. Still. For who the hell knows what. That hag has been on me since I partied like it was 1999 in 1999. Let's do a quick count: A - Dude w/ 4 kids. Well, alcoholic dude w/ 4 kids. OK, an alcoholic dude w/ 4 kids and ex-wife issues. B - Dude from Kansas. Met online. Shacked here for a month. Shacked in Kansas for a long weekend. Come to find out while shacking in Kansas, it was after he got engaged. His logic: we shacked before they did so shacking w/ me again (after the engagement) was perfectly OK. 3 - Army Dude No. 1. Told me about his ex-wife. Didn't mention his se...

I am not a fan of feet. They're gross. Looking at them. That's gross. Touching them. Gross. So I'm getting a pedicure. Makes sense, right? But I have wine. A small Asian man with a cough forcasting the onset of tuberculosis is filing my toenails. Peering at them through tortoise shell cheaters while wheezing what I'm sure will be one of his last breaths.  It's skeeving me out. The whole combination is gross. A: feet. B: phlegmy old dude. 3: touching. A lot of it. So I suck Cabernet from a Tervis. God I love my Tervis. It allows me to ignore the dot o' snot he keeps sniffing up his left nostril. With each sip, and by sip I mean lengthy suck, I ignore the foot thing. Yet I'm paying $55 (tip included because I can't not tip a dude for making a living off feet) to be outside of my comfort zone for about 30 minutes. I consider it a growth opportunity. Why didn't I bring the 32 oz. Tervis? I don't know the 18 ounces of scrumptious Cab will las...

Cheyenne Frontier Days, "The daddy of 'em all," begins in two days. Some people call it CFD. The Rodeo (always with a capital R). The un-official end to summer. I call it the 10-day blow job. To most of the regular Toms, Dicks & Harrys, the annual spectacle is a good excuse to leave town or head downtown to laugh at the drugstore cowboys and rhinestone hookers who invade our respectably-sized metropolis. But to the a select few, who get to wear a plastic badge announcing them as a CFD volunteer or - God forbid - CFD DV - the chubby screaming to be serviced is already standing at attention ready for all to worship. Those ID-sized badges are a little blue pill of joy marketed under the pretense of community outreach. Too bad the badges don't carry the same FDA-mandated warning advising users to seek help if things don't relax after four hours. The CFD DV badge provides folks who carry some sort of important-sounding title with perks at the rodeo (like free ...

Today is the day Hallmark has required all of us to honor the men who contributed half our DNA. I don't need a day for that. Dad rocks it every day. And he knows it. I tell him that often - especially since he mows my lawn every Monday, hammers stuff into my walls, rescues me when the basement floods and takes me to lunch every other week. I got lucky. He's coming over later (w/ Mom, obv) to have dinner. Steak, corn on the cob and potato salad. I think that works as a good celebration for him as an amazing hero, role model, pool boy. Also some sort of an ice cream sandwich layered with other ice cream flavors cake-thingy that is taking up space in the freezer and is hopefully edible. It is ice cream. How can that not be edible? Thinking about what makes Dad amazing, I have to start with two words. Patient and kind. Neither is more important than the other, they are both equally my dad. Resourceful also works. Skilled makes the list. Funny. Smart. Gentle. Calm. I'm glad ...

Topic of thought tonight: honesty. Is it the best policy? Always? Or does timing, location, and obv, word choice make a difference? Does honesty + timing + location = judgement? Take this scenario that may or may not have been a personal experience. Trent (fake name to protect the not so innocent) and I met in a hotel for mid-week sex.  Hotel sex? On a Wednesday? Sweet! I was pumped. Wore matching undies and, sit down for this, shaved my legs.  Was anticipating a pillow-biting, headboard-banging, banshee moaning evening. I got 3 minutes.  Tops. Honesty: "Trent, last night was not the best sex we've had." (said in the morning while brushing my teeth) Judgement: "Three minutes? Seriously?" (said at minute 4 as he begins to snore on my chest) Emotional intelligence and rational thinking were two attributes - when it comes to honesty - my friend said, are two keys to honest communication.  I couldn't agree more.  We also agreed the problem...

Today is all about doing what I should have done almost a month ago - clean the basement. Why a month ago? Dec. 27 was the last day my cat, Simba, used it as a litter box. Simba was only 3 months shy of 18 when I chose to end her life. She was diagnosed in November with the first stages of kidney disease and a few weeks later, after noticing she was peeing enough to fill a kiddie pool, the vet determined she had diabetes. I made the decision to put her down instead of allowing our relationship to degrade into one that featured two needle sessions per day and lots of mopping and paper towels. I am struggling with that decision which is why, in part, I've avoided the basement. That was her domain. I only ventured there for laundry and cleaning up after her. Which I did for the last time that day. But enough of that. Still not ready to delve into that emotional mess. The other part of basement avoidance is honestly I am not into cleaning. Everyone who know me knows I despise vacuuming...

My close friend Ivy bought me one of those thought a day calendars for Christmas. 365 days of infinite wisdom to meditate upon and, maybe, absorb into my psyche to be a better person. Two problems: 1, usually I see the daily thought once every few days as I tear off multiple pages to catch up. And, I've noticed the advice can be somewhat sketchy, at times. For example: This tidbit was the advice for Jan. 8.  First thing I thought was "Wow, creepy dating advice." I even sent a pic to Ivy and asked if she ascertained the same subliminal message. I mean, what's "old"? AARP membership eligibility? Retirement? My age plus 15? Who's to say. (For the record, I consider someone too old to be in my body when they have 12+ years on me). But the more I think about it, I'm sure it is encouraging me to not be a fuddy-duddy and have gruel fed to me three times a day by a CNA. I get it. Attitude is everything and why not start a new year with a bright attit...

Sifting through this blogging site I've had for longer than I thought. I have written some funny shit. I've also written some pathetic - but still in a funny way - shit. I don't see that changing anytime soon. These days blogs are places people sell cool homemade macramé underwear and coasters made from children's pasta art. People make a lot of money blogging. My friend had a blog for almost 4 years. She painted her nails, took a picture, and told people what she thought of the polish.  She had thousands of people reading her blog. Thousands. For nail polish. Companies sent her polish so she would take a picture of the bottle being held in her prettily painted talons.  I need a kid in pre-school. I have pasta.  And mod podge. I'm just "blogging" to type. I have thoughts.  They need to be put down somewhere and paper and pencil isn't as easy to come by when I have work, banking and Facebook occupying my time on my computer. Don't make me sit in...

Note: I found this entry from a few - OK, 5 - years ago.  I don't have any reason to update it; the list hasn't really changed.  I did delete No. 17 where I complained about the complexion of the "infomercial dude" because I don't know even know if he's still around - but if he is, his skin color is most likely still nasty. Oh, and today is a Tuesday. The following things really friggin' annoy me: 1. People who put "at" at the end of a sentence.  2. It's isn't its. Jackass. C. Speeding through school zones and/or construction zones.  Stop being so pretentious - you're not that important. D. Men who forget to tell me they're married.  5. Passive-aggressive emailers.  You have a question for me (or even better, a problem)? Email me. Not me, my boss, the boss of my boss, your boss, your boss's boss, and the janitor.  If I can answer your question, or fix your problem, I will.  Adding all of those people to the email will ...

Today politics won out over doing what was right. Pisses me off - especially when the person who chose political favor over transparency talks all about integrity. And I'm supposed to pretend I don't know this. Son of a ... I do my job why?

I downloaded the blogger app on my iPhone to see if it will help me say more on the blog. Not that I have anything to say at the moment.

I haven't blogged in ages.  Do people still blog? Or is this so 2010?  Why am I here tonight?  Two reasons.  One of my friends mentioned she has a blog (that reminded me I had one which made me think of reason 2 which is:) and I have started applying for jobs and got freaked out my blog, facebook page, twitter account, pinterest pinboard, linkedin profile and/or old-fashioned AOL email address, may be a deal breaker for some potential employer somewhere to determine my worth. And then that begs the question: How in a virtual world does one apply for a job without worrying about their web self undermining their chances? It's not like I have porn or photos of me simulating fellatio with a bratwurst on my accounts (can I just say "Thank God cell phones didn't have cameras when I went to college!" - not that I ever did anything like that with bratwurst), but what if someone doesn't like my obvious joy at finding Midget Elvis in Vegas? Or doesn't approve ...

The following things really friggin' annoy me: 1. People who put "at" at the end of a sentence.  2. It's isn't its. Jackass. C. Speeding through school zones and/or construction zones.  Stop being so pretentious - you're not that important. D. Men who forget to tell me they're married.  5. Passive-aggressive emailers.  You have a question for me (or even better, a problem)? Email me. Not me, my boss, the boss of my boss, your boss, your boss's boss, and the janitor.  If I can answer your question, or fix your problem, I will.  Adding all of those people to the email will not make me help you better or faster.  Jackass. 6.Using the word "random" in place of "odd" or "surprising." Running into your junior high gym teacher at Safeway is not "random;" most people buy groceries. 7. Text message relationships. 8. Toe sucking.  No mouth that wants my toes in it will EVER kiss me. 9. Reporters who call at 1645 ...

DC Boy and I met in August 2007 on a plane home from Puerto Rico.  We were row mates.  His blue eyes mixed well with my Bloody Mary(s) and the tranquil ocean seas between San Juan and Miami.  We exchanged business cards and I thought that was that. A few weeks later I received an email and we've been emailing daily, sometimes hourly, ever since.  Until last week, anyway. Last week was a winner.  Started out with what I thought was a broken washing machine.  That ended up being a backed up sewer pipe.  While trying to fix that, the garage door broke, the heater went out and I had a complete and utter chick breakdown. Hysterical sobs, snot, the whole nine yards.  I was damn sexy! DC Boy was there telling me all would be well. And just when I thought the week from hell was over, some 17-year-old decided to turn in front of me at an an intersection.  The airbag hit my face, the seat belt ratcheted against my sternum and the crock pot in the...

I wonder how long it will take for me to stop writing 2010 on invitations, releases, and checks (yes, I still use them for some things).  Last year I was really good at not writing 2009 - for about two weeks.  Then for some reason in the middle of January I couldn't for the life of me say, think, write or type 2010.  That was my first clue. End of March was clue No. 2.  I was supposed to meet a friend and he didn't show.  Typical.  I haven't seen him in years.  Each time he swears the next time we'll get together. There were other clues that I conveniently didn't notice.  Being a blonde is sometimes not a stereotype. I'm not saying 2010 sucked donkey spit, but it sure didn't smell like roses.  Nothing of note really, nothing to say, 20 years from now, "Hey, remember in 2010 when ..." Here's hoping there's something in 2011 that will spark a good memory in 20 years.

Happy holidays, It’s a few days before Christmas and I’m amazed at the lack of Christmas letters I’ve received. More and more cards are coming with only signatures or maybe a photo. Can we thank Facebook and the other social networking sites for the death of the dreaded Christmas letter? Or did my friends realize, as I have, that really the only way to do Christmas is to start in June when the first decorations pop out at Hobby Lobby; otherwise, it’s the Sunday before Christmas and you realize the only décor at your house is a candy dish and holiday-themed wine glass charms, and there’s no friggin’ way you’re putting up a tree now. With this letter I am not attempting to bring back a tradition that can be as painful as eating Grandma’s fruitcake, but instead realizing I’m just too behind the power curve (i.e. lazy) to write separate cards, address envelopes and go buy stamps. Instead, I’m calling this a letter, putting it here, on my blog, and letting people know it’s there. I’m em...

My friend is a technophile. She has an iPhone and with the click of one tiny button "boom" her Twitter, her Facebook and her Blog all get the same thing. Hell, sometimes she includes a text message and an email for good measure. Me, I am so far from techno. I'm techNO savvy. It takes me 10 minutes to remember my blog password. God forbid my crack ever goes missing - the password keeper in that is an amazing thing. Of course I don't use it, it's another techNO for me. But, once I figure it out, I will. I promise. Then the God forbid statement will definitely kick in. I am doing the happy dance, however, because I figured out how to dial my cell phone for a conference call w/out dialing my cell phone. The contacts application is an amazing thing. As is the mute button. I'm "working" right now. Sitting in on a conference call while Nine Inch Nails plays in the background, margarita is next to me and I'm bitching on a blog. Work should be...

This 2010 shit has got to go. This year is barely two months - or almost three months, depending on your perspective - gone and I am done - DONE - with it. Life better perk up fast or I am going to be really pissed off.

I don't think I can do a blog post today. Complete sentences are not my forte today. Jell-O has replaced any brain matter I may have had. But I'm quite OK with that. I think it would be quite the experience to travel through life too dumb and oblivious to how dumb and oblivious I am. Maybe that's the true meaning of life? Secret to happiness? Nirvana? Seriously, think about it. The hardest part about being vapid is knowing it. Having knowledge of your own lack of intelligence, zest for life, brightness, IQ, etc., takes all the fun out of it. If you are truly clueless, truly don't care that C comes after B, imagine the possibilities.

Stress is really stressing me out. Normally when I feel stressed it's for a reason. A reason. Not just because. Lately, it's stress "just because" and I am frantically trying to find the reason for it. I'm not being successful with that and that too is stressing me out. There's a sense of foreboding but also a sense of unease (which is pretty close on the synonym scale to foreboding, I know) and a sense of dread (again, I know) and a sense of pressure....OK, you get the point. I'm pretending it's not there. Sort of like when your grandma farts and stinks up Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone just pauses, maybe clears their throat, sips their wine and continues like no one's hair just got curled. That's where I am right now. Stuck in the middle of turkey dinner with a gassy old woman. Of course there's school (always a strain) and work (ditto) and money (hahahaha)a and everything else that simmers in my head. But I have added something to the po...