me: A Blog

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...