Every since I was a little girl, my father has always taught me not to be wasteful. He was always telling me, "Don't leave that food on your plate. If we're paying for it, you're going to fnish it all" or "Heck no, don't throw that away! We can save that [insert various object] for later!" or "Wrap that chicken finger up in a napkin and stick it in your purse! I'm not too proud!"
A simple trip to the local fast food joint was an opportunity to stockup one's car or truck for simple emergencies. As we would sit to dine on a feast of hamburgers and french fries, he would grab a huge stack of napkins.
"But Dad," I would say, "we won't possibly need all those."
"Summer Michael," he would reply, "I''m gonna put these in the truck later. They'll come in handy one day."
As so it went with napkins, ketchup, assorted jams and jellies in little packets, salt, pepper, you name it. I was conditioned to either leave the surplus items on the edge of the table by my mother (that's another blog entirely, see "slow down so I can ketchup") or take them with me, as directed by my father.
Just last week, I was eating lunch with a friend. We had both taken a rather large stack of napkins. With my father's words echoing in my head, I decided to bring the leftover napkins along for the ride as we ventured back out to the car. I carelessly tossed them in the backseat, and I briefed my passenger on my father's pearls of wisdom. We placed our to-go cups filled with our beverages of choice in the driver's and passenger side cupholders, respectively, and headed off to our next destination.
Several days later, napkins forgotten but waiting wordlessly in the wings (aka, the backseat of my car), I was on my way to work when I noticed the other to-go still in the cup holder of my car.
As I went to pick it up, I was unpleasantly surprised by a soggy and disintegrated cup bottom. I muttered several words of disgust and emptied what was left of the drink into the parking lot, tossing the tattered remains into the back floorboard. My cupholders were now filled with a murky brown liquid.
Upon doing tossing the cup remains, I saw a flash of white peeking out at me. The napkins! Silently thanking my father for instilling within me his frugal and thrifty principles, I proceeded to soak up said liquid with the napkins. A few minutes later, problem solved!
So many things I have gleaned from my parents, and this has truly proved to be one of the most fruitful lessons.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
everything comes full circle
I've lost two friends this year, both very tragic and unexpected.
I wrote a blog recently about one of my friends, Ben. His girlfriend/fiancee is at home now, resting comfortably and rehabilitating herself daily to get back on her feet. She knows Ben is gone, and she has her good days and bad days, friends say. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like.
Back in September, my best friend from high school lost her husband. It was totally unexpected, a blood clot. He'd had surgery, and he was having a little trouble, but he was at home. Before we knew it, he was gone.
I was the maid of honor in their wedding, and I practically lived with her all through school and vice versa. It was one of the hardest things, to try and comfort someone who has lost the man they'd hoped to spend the rest of their life with. They would have been married three years in October. He would've turned 26 in September.
She gave birth to their beautiful son (I'm not biased or anything) on Thursday, Dec. 14.
When her husband first passed, I thought it would be harder to raise the baby with him gone. Now I know that the baby will make her stronger, and that is what has helped her all this time.
Working at Red Lobster, we have a lot of usuals that come in. Many of these are older couples. I've gotten very close to many of them, and it is so very hard when they don't come in any more. It's even harder when one of them spouses returns without their partner.
I remember one man in particular who would always come in with his wife, occasionally joined by their daughter and granddaughter. His wife was loud and colorful; everyone knew who they were.
We soon found out that she had cancer. The first time he came in alone, it was heartbreaking.
But in recent months, I've noticed him coming in with another "lady friend," if you will. It's definitely not the same, but I see him look at her with such adoration and love. My only hope is to find that once in my life.
I wonder if my other friends who have lost that special person will ever be able to carry on to find that again.
I didn't mean for this to be a sad, mourning blog, but I have just been thinking about how everything comes around full circle. People die, every day, but in that same respect, every day, babies are born and new relationships are started.
I think that sometimes life is a hard road, one full of bumps and potholes that seem to be neverending. But one thing is for sure - it's not a dead end.
I wrote a blog recently about one of my friends, Ben. His girlfriend/fiancee is at home now, resting comfortably and rehabilitating herself daily to get back on her feet. She knows Ben is gone, and she has her good days and bad days, friends say. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like.
Back in September, my best friend from high school lost her husband. It was totally unexpected, a blood clot. He'd had surgery, and he was having a little trouble, but he was at home. Before we knew it, he was gone.
I was the maid of honor in their wedding, and I practically lived with her all through school and vice versa. It was one of the hardest things, to try and comfort someone who has lost the man they'd hoped to spend the rest of their life with. They would have been married three years in October. He would've turned 26 in September.
She gave birth to their beautiful son (I'm not biased or anything) on Thursday, Dec. 14.
When her husband first passed, I thought it would be harder to raise the baby with him gone. Now I know that the baby will make her stronger, and that is what has helped her all this time.
Working at Red Lobster, we have a lot of usuals that come in. Many of these are older couples. I've gotten very close to many of them, and it is so very hard when they don't come in any more. It's even harder when one of them spouses returns without their partner.
I remember one man in particular who would always come in with his wife, occasionally joined by their daughter and granddaughter. His wife was loud and colorful; everyone knew who they were.
We soon found out that she had cancer. The first time he came in alone, it was heartbreaking.
But in recent months, I've noticed him coming in with another "lady friend," if you will. It's definitely not the same, but I see him look at her with such adoration and love. My only hope is to find that once in my life.
I wonder if my other friends who have lost that special person will ever be able to carry on to find that again.
I didn't mean for this to be a sad, mourning blog, but I have just been thinking about how everything comes around full circle. People die, every day, but in that same respect, every day, babies are born and new relationships are started.
I think that sometimes life is a hard road, one full of bumps and potholes that seem to be neverending. But one thing is for sure - it's not a dead end.
Friday, December 15, 2006
do you like me? blog yes or no
The internet has really revolutionized the way things happen today, and it has made such a huge impact on social netoworking everywhere.
I was in Wal-Mart just the other day, and I saw the ole Tiger Beat and Teen Bop magazines that all the girls used to have when I was in elementary school. They used to be covered with teen sensations and say things like, "Super Dreamy Pics of Hanson Inside This Issue! Free Poster!"
This issue said pretty much the same, only now there was a huge headline proclaiming, "Sweet New MySpace Codes Inside! Jazz Up Your Page!"
I heard MySpace and Facebook mentioned on two primetime television shows.
However, the best thing we have all gotten out of this has to be blogging. I love blogs. I think they are fantastic. Last night, while I was at work, I heard something I thought was funny. These kids (I use the term loosely, they were old enough to drive, probably 17 or so) were all dressed up for some dance or something, wearing sparkly dresses and their hair was all did up, the whole nine.
One girl was talking about a boy to her friend. Here's a brief transcript about what transpired between the pair:
Girl#1: I don't know. Like, do you think he like, likes me, like or whatever?
Girl#2: Oh, my gah, he soooooo does. He was like, totally checking you out or whatever. Chad is like, his like, MySpace friend, and he said he was looking at your profile yesterday.
Girl#1: Shut up! Shut UP! No way! Like, for real?
Girl#2: Straight up. And he like, wrote a blog about you. He totally likes you.
Girl#1: (ecstatic, obviously) AH! Oh my gah, he is SO cute! I like him, like for real. Ah! He is so so cute! I'm gonna put him on my top 8.
Girl#2: Seriously? Wow, that's like, huge. Who are you going to bump off?
Girl#1: Girl, are you kidding? Ashley was totally scamming on him. She left him, like, six comments in a row on his page. Who does she think she is?
Girl#2: Bitch.
And that was about it. I may have embellished a little. But I just thought it was funny how it used to be, writing each other little notes and such across the classroom and asking your friends to go talk to the other person and stuff. When I heard these girls and the word (or words, if you want to get technical) "MySpace," I just knew I had to listen in.
I was in Wal-Mart just the other day, and I saw the ole Tiger Beat and Teen Bop magazines that all the girls used to have when I was in elementary school. They used to be covered with teen sensations and say things like, "Super Dreamy Pics of Hanson Inside This Issue! Free Poster!"
This issue said pretty much the same, only now there was a huge headline proclaiming, "Sweet New MySpace Codes Inside! Jazz Up Your Page!"
I heard MySpace and Facebook mentioned on two primetime television shows.
However, the best thing we have all gotten out of this has to be blogging. I love blogs. I think they are fantastic. Last night, while I was at work, I heard something I thought was funny. These kids (I use the term loosely, they were old enough to drive, probably 17 or so) were all dressed up for some dance or something, wearing sparkly dresses and their hair was all did up, the whole nine.
One girl was talking about a boy to her friend. Here's a brief transcript about what transpired between the pair:
Girl#1: I don't know. Like, do you think he like, likes me, like or whatever?
Girl#2: Oh, my gah, he soooooo does. He was like, totally checking you out or whatever. Chad is like, his like, MySpace friend, and he said he was looking at your profile yesterday.
Girl#1: Shut up! Shut UP! No way! Like, for real?
Girl#2: Straight up. And he like, wrote a blog about you. He totally likes you.
Girl#1: (ecstatic, obviously) AH! Oh my gah, he is SO cute! I like him, like for real. Ah! He is so so cute! I'm gonna put him on my top 8.
Girl#2: Seriously? Wow, that's like, huge. Who are you going to bump off?
Girl#1: Girl, are you kidding? Ashley was totally scamming on him. She left him, like, six comments in a row on his page. Who does she think she is?
Girl#2: Bitch.
And that was about it. I may have embellished a little. But I just thought it was funny how it used to be, writing each other little notes and such across the classroom and asking your friends to go talk to the other person and stuff. When I heard these girls and the word (or words, if you want to get technical) "MySpace," I just knew I had to listen in.
Monday, December 11, 2006
sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Okay, so, I love signs. LOVE them. I love them esp when they have something wrong with them or when they just really, really crack me up. And I have seen many a sign, my friend. Not to mention I know how convenient it is to have a camera phone. And to have friends that have camera phones. And to have friends who appreciate your affinity for signs and that....you get the idea.
I thought I would share some of my favorites with all of you.
First off, these are just the ones that are random acts of bad grammar or just plain dumb.
Like this one.
When I first saw it, all I could think of was, "what the hell is a soure of pride? Did they mean 'sore' of pride? And isn't that an oxymoron of sorts?" I would not have been very proud of myself had I been the person to have made this sign.
Sweet! Steak at Ryan's! Save me a seat. But wait...is that a new day of the week? I mean, I know that Wednesday is a hard day of the week to spell, esp when compared to its counterparts - Monday, Friday, Sunday and the like. But if you are putting yourself out there, on the side of Rainbow Drive/Albert Rains/Hwy 411 or whatever the fuck it's called, don't you think you might take the extra time to consult a dictionary?
This just makes me mad. Please don't make a gigantimous sign this big with such an error. It's just...bad. I don't know what's worse - the fact that the sign upsets me so, or the fact that I have a million pictures of myself right in front of it because I frequent the place of business so much. Every dollar I spend there is basically me saying it's okay to have shitty grammar.
Hell yeah, I want the person who either can't spell the word "emergency" (or the person who felt the need to mass-produce this sign and stick it up everywhere) to lead me to safety. Please, tell me where to go.
I only hope there was a band playing or some sort of music wherever that arrow was pointing.
These next ones are either just cute or really cracked me up.
I saw this sign in a store window on Martha's Vineyard. It made me giggle. Twice.
My best friend and I drove all the way to New Orleans one day, just for the hell of it. And for the prailines. We hit up a museum for some culture, and I think I almost peed myself when I saw this. I'm so immature.
I don't even remember where I found this, but oh, my God, I will wear my safety goggles in the lab from now on. I cross my heart.
Since when is the flavor raspberry "creamy"? And this didn't look very creamy to me. At all. I can only speculate as to what this Al person does to the drink to make it his creamy blue raspberry. Tasty.
Now for my very favorite. There isn't anything technically wrong with these, but something is definitely wrong here.
Um, that's what she said......but seriously, folks, Kaitie saw this one on her hairdryer at a hotel. I think it's fantastic. If you can't read it (I know it's blurry), it says, "GET TO OFF BEFORE MOUNTING."
Oh, my God, AH! It's the Electricity Monster! Get the fuck away! It looks like some sort of Matrix crap, too, with the way the Electricity Monster is blasting the guy and he just bends over backwards to avoid it. Stay away from that stuff.
Riddikulus! Is that a boggart? I swear, I walked past this cabinet three times, and nothing jumped out at me. I was a little disappointed. And I love how one door is supposed to be opened, but other than the shadowy square on the right, it looks just the same as the other side of the cabinet. Weird.
Ho-o-ly, shit, it's a fire! And it means business. You'd better haul ass outta there, little guy. I know I won't be blocking a fire exit any time soon.
Zippity doo dah, zippity ay! I'm a-walkin' on water, what a wonderful day! I wish this little guy had a top hat and a cane. I suspect he's snapping his fingers and clickin' his heels.
My personal favorite. I can't tell if this sign is meant to be, "Attention: Wet Floor," or "Attention: I'm a Sexy Playboy Centerfold." You'd betta recognize, bitches.
Oh, my God, HELP! I am trapped in a triangle! ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!!
Either that, or he's dancing. It's the new alternative to square dancing - triangle dancing.
I thought I would share some of my favorites with all of you.
First off, these are just the ones that are random acts of bad grammar or just plain dumb.
Like this one.
When I first saw it, all I could think of was, "what the hell is a soure of pride? Did they mean 'sore' of pride? And isn't that an oxymoron of sorts?" I would not have been very proud of myself had I been the person to have made this sign.
Sweet! Steak at Ryan's! Save me a seat. But wait...is that a new day of the week? I mean, I know that Wednesday is a hard day of the week to spell, esp when compared to its counterparts - Monday, Friday, Sunday and the like. But if you are putting yourself out there, on the side of Rainbow Drive/Albert Rains/Hwy 411 or whatever the fuck it's called, don't you think you might take the extra time to consult a dictionary?
This just makes me mad. Please don't make a gigantimous sign this big with such an error. It's just...bad. I don't know what's worse - the fact that the sign upsets me so, or the fact that I have a million pictures of myself right in front of it because I frequent the place of business so much. Every dollar I spend there is basically me saying it's okay to have shitty grammar.
Hell yeah, I want the person who either can't spell the word "emergency" (or the person who felt the need to mass-produce this sign and stick it up everywhere) to lead me to safety. Please, tell me where to go.
I only hope there was a band playing or some sort of music wherever that arrow was pointing.
These next ones are either just cute or really cracked me up.
I saw this sign in a store window on Martha's Vineyard. It made me giggle. Twice.
My best friend and I drove all the way to New Orleans one day, just for the hell of it. And for the prailines. We hit up a museum for some culture, and I think I almost peed myself when I saw this. I'm so immature.
I don't even remember where I found this, but oh, my God, I will wear my safety goggles in the lab from now on. I cross my heart.
Since when is the flavor raspberry "creamy"? And this didn't look very creamy to me. At all. I can only speculate as to what this Al person does to the drink to make it his creamy blue raspberry. Tasty.
Now for my very favorite. There isn't anything technically wrong with these, but something is definitely wrong here.
Um, that's what she said......but seriously, folks, Kaitie saw this one on her hairdryer at a hotel. I think it's fantastic. If you can't read it (I know it's blurry), it says, "GET TO OFF BEFORE MOUNTING."
Oh, my God, AH! It's the Electricity Monster! Get the fuck away! It looks like some sort of Matrix crap, too, with the way the Electricity Monster is blasting the guy and he just bends over backwards to avoid it. Stay away from that stuff.
Riddikulus! Is that a boggart? I swear, I walked past this cabinet three times, and nothing jumped out at me. I was a little disappointed. And I love how one door is supposed to be opened, but other than the shadowy square on the right, it looks just the same as the other side of the cabinet. Weird.
Ho-o-ly, shit, it's a fire! And it means business. You'd better haul ass outta there, little guy. I know I won't be blocking a fire exit any time soon.
Zippity doo dah, zippity ay! I'm a-walkin' on water, what a wonderful day! I wish this little guy had a top hat and a cane. I suspect he's snapping his fingers and clickin' his heels.
My personal favorite. I can't tell if this sign is meant to be, "Attention: Wet Floor," or "Attention: I'm a Sexy Playboy Centerfold." You'd betta recognize, bitches.
Oh, my God, HELP! I am trapped in a triangle! ARRRRGHHHHHH!!!!!
Either that, or he's dancing. It's the new alternative to square dancing - triangle dancing.
Monday, November 20, 2006
goodbye dear friend - you will be missed
It's ironic that my last post was about love and finding that special someone.
Two friends of mine have been dating for a while. It's weird to me that they are together, as I have known each of them for a long time, but separately. One day, they came into Red Lobster, where I work, and we did the whole, "But wait...hold on...you're dating? And you know....her? Him?" It was perfect - I loved him like a brother, and she was just fantastic. They were so cute together. After we realized we all knew each other, I even went on a blind/double-date with them...but that's another story.
I continued to see them at Red Lobster, which is basically my social networking system. Just a few weeks ago, they came in for lunch. I stopped for the usual hug, and she showed me something new - a promise ring. It was absolutely beautiful, and she was so proud, so radiant. My friend then told me it was his grandmother's ring, and looking at the two of them, right then, I could see how much in love they were. I hugged them both again, congratulated them, and went back to work.
This past weekend was like any other weekend - I came in late Friday, overslept Saturday, etc. But it was different.
My roommate woke me up with some very unsettling news. My two friends were in a really bad car accident. She was in critical condition. He didn't make it.
He was going to propose at Christmas.
I didn't believe it at first. I still kinda don't. It wasn't until later when I was relaying the information to my mom that it sank in.
Ben, my friend, was only 23 years old. He had two brothers and amazing parents, both of whom I love very much. We were the Etowah Youth Orchestra for years, and we traveled with the EYO to Myrtle Beach, New Orleans, and even to New York to play at Carnegie Hall. He was my date for my junior prom, and that same year, his brother went with one of my best friends. He was such a sweet and selfless person, and he was always there to do anything for anyone. I remember him teasing me and picking on me like a brother would. The first thing he did every time I saw him was give me a great big hug, those kind of hugs where you know the other person really means it.
Cindy, his girlfriend, is still in serious condition, but she is going to pull through. I can only imagine what she has left to go through when she wakes up. She is such a sweetie, and I was so pleased that she found someone that made her happy. I can't even begin to put myself in her position. I have no clue what lies ahead for her. That is pain so unbearable that I would never wish on anyone.
This really made me think about life and death. We are never promised tomorrow. And I've always heard people say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Is that true? When you think you have found the person you are going to marry, you really believe that is the person you were meant to be with all along. That is the only person for you.
What do you do when you wake up one day and that person is gone?
Ben had such a short time here. I think back on my life and wonder if the time comes for me to leave this place, will I be ready? How will people reflect back on my life?
Goodbye, my dear friend. We've had some good times. You had such a big heart, and you gave yourself whole-heartedly to everyone and everything. I will miss you so much. That's the hardest thing for me, knowing that I'm never going to see you again. I'll never forget you. I don't think any of us will.
Two friends of mine have been dating for a while. It's weird to me that they are together, as I have known each of them for a long time, but separately. One day, they came into Red Lobster, where I work, and we did the whole, "But wait...hold on...you're dating? And you know....her? Him?" It was perfect - I loved him like a brother, and she was just fantastic. They were so cute together. After we realized we all knew each other, I even went on a blind/double-date with them...but that's another story.
I continued to see them at Red Lobster, which is basically my social networking system. Just a few weeks ago, they came in for lunch. I stopped for the usual hug, and she showed me something new - a promise ring. It was absolutely beautiful, and she was so proud, so radiant. My friend then told me it was his grandmother's ring, and looking at the two of them, right then, I could see how much in love they were. I hugged them both again, congratulated them, and went back to work.
This past weekend was like any other weekend - I came in late Friday, overslept Saturday, etc. But it was different.
My roommate woke me up with some very unsettling news. My two friends were in a really bad car accident. She was in critical condition. He didn't make it.
He was going to propose at Christmas.
I didn't believe it at first. I still kinda don't. It wasn't until later when I was relaying the information to my mom that it sank in.
Ben, my friend, was only 23 years old. He had two brothers and amazing parents, both of whom I love very much. We were the Etowah Youth Orchestra for years, and we traveled with the EYO to Myrtle Beach, New Orleans, and even to New York to play at Carnegie Hall. He was my date for my junior prom, and that same year, his brother went with one of my best friends. He was such a sweet and selfless person, and he was always there to do anything for anyone. I remember him teasing me and picking on me like a brother would. The first thing he did every time I saw him was give me a great big hug, those kind of hugs where you know the other person really means it.
Cindy, his girlfriend, is still in serious condition, but she is going to pull through. I can only imagine what she has left to go through when she wakes up. She is such a sweetie, and I was so pleased that she found someone that made her happy. I can't even begin to put myself in her position. I have no clue what lies ahead for her. That is pain so unbearable that I would never wish on anyone.
This really made me think about life and death. We are never promised tomorrow. And I've always heard people say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Is that true? When you think you have found the person you are going to marry, you really believe that is the person you were meant to be with all along. That is the only person for you.
What do you do when you wake up one day and that person is gone?
Ben had such a short time here. I think back on my life and wonder if the time comes for me to leave this place, will I be ready? How will people reflect back on my life?
Goodbye, my dear friend. We've had some good times. You had such a big heart, and you gave yourself whole-heartedly to everyone and everything. I will miss you so much. That's the hardest thing for me, knowing that I'm never going to see you again. I'll never forget you. I don't think any of us will.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
another one bites the dust
One of my very best friends got married last week. It was a beautiful wedding, and she looked absolutely gorgeous. We have been friends since we were very young, about two or three years old. I didn't expect to get so emotional, but as I stood there on the altar, watching her walk down the aisle...I almost lost it.
I regained control of myself and stayed composed for the rest of the ceremony. After the vows were spoken, rings and kisses were exchanged and we'd all walked back down the aisle, it was time for the reception. (Oh, by the way, the wedding was outside at her parents' house, and the reception was in a huge tent. And yes, it was FREEZING outside.) The cake was good, the food was good, the DJ playing the music was good. Then it was time for the father-daughter dance. Once again, it was sort of bittersweet to see the person that I have come to know as a sister dance out the last few steps of her childhood.
I stood over to the side, next to my other childhood friend, also a member of the wedding party. We watched as the final notes of the song faded away and she began her first dance with her new husband. I was doing okay, and then she smiled at us and motioned to my friend and her new boyfriend to come dance. As she walked over the makeshift dancefloor, I was left standing by myself. It was so poetic, so painfully poetic.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life.
When you attend a wedding, and this is multiplied times two if you are actually in the wedding, people will continue to ask you, "So, any prospects? Are you, ya know, seeing anyone?" All I can ever say is, "No." The freakin photographer at this wedding asked was I dating someone after I was left standing solo during the slow dancing. No, no, NO. As I was repeatedly and painstakingly reminded, no, I am not currently dating anyone.
And people keep saying, "Oh, don't worry. It's okay. No big deal. You'll find someone." But I'm not worried. I know it's no big deal. And as I have said time and again, what about someone finding me? I know I don't want to get married for a long time, if at all. I have my own doubt about the whole institution of marriage and whether or not it's right for me. But I can't help but feel a little twinge (okay, a lotta twinge) of jealousy. I know that the decisions my friends have made are not the same ones that I have made for myself. But sometimes it still hurts.
I found myself growing somewhat irrationally upset at the wedding. Not angry, just upset. I had to excuse myself as I felt my face get hot and my eyes sting with tears. I quickly exited the reception tent and made my way inside. Why did I get so upset? Why was I bothered so? I don't know if I am facing the reality that we are all growing up, or if I was mourning my own self, or if I just miss my old friend. Whatever it was, it hit me and it hit me hard.
This also makes me think back to a conversation I had not just a few days ago with a good (make that fantastic) friend of mine. We were just sitting there, talking, when she asked me did I think that there was one person for everyone.
This is an interesting concept to me.
I used to think so. I used to think that there was one person out there for me, so beautifully and wonderfully made that I could not wait to find him. Then as time went by, my feelings changed.
Another close friend of mine once said that she thought there isn't just one person for everyone, but you find someone that you really love and you make it work. I hope there's not one person for everyone. Do you know how many people there are in this world? It seems as though it might be damn near impossible to find that special someone.
Like I said before, I don't know if I want to get married. But I do want to find that one person that I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with, that I just can't get enough of. As Carrie said in Sex and the City, "I am looking for love, can't live without it love."
Just not right now.
I am content to hang out and have fun with my friends, and I have some really great ones. I don't need anyone to complete me; I can complete myself, thanks.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel that nagging, aching pain, just gnawing at my heart and hollowing out my chest.
It hurts.
I regained control of myself and stayed composed for the rest of the ceremony. After the vows were spoken, rings and kisses were exchanged and we'd all walked back down the aisle, it was time for the reception. (Oh, by the way, the wedding was outside at her parents' house, and the reception was in a huge tent. And yes, it was FREEZING outside.) The cake was good, the food was good, the DJ playing the music was good. Then it was time for the father-daughter dance. Once again, it was sort of bittersweet to see the person that I have come to know as a sister dance out the last few steps of her childhood.
I stood over to the side, next to my other childhood friend, also a member of the wedding party. We watched as the final notes of the song faded away and she began her first dance with her new husband. I was doing okay, and then she smiled at us and motioned to my friend and her new boyfriend to come dance. As she walked over the makeshift dancefloor, I was left standing by myself. It was so poetic, so painfully poetic.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life.
When you attend a wedding, and this is multiplied times two if you are actually in the wedding, people will continue to ask you, "So, any prospects? Are you, ya know, seeing anyone?" All I can ever say is, "No." The freakin photographer at this wedding asked was I dating someone after I was left standing solo during the slow dancing. No, no, NO. As I was repeatedly and painstakingly reminded, no, I am not currently dating anyone.
And people keep saying, "Oh, don't worry. It's okay. No big deal. You'll find someone." But I'm not worried. I know it's no big deal. And as I have said time and again, what about someone finding me? I know I don't want to get married for a long time, if at all. I have my own doubt about the whole institution of marriage and whether or not it's right for me. But I can't help but feel a little twinge (okay, a lotta twinge) of jealousy. I know that the decisions my friends have made are not the same ones that I have made for myself. But sometimes it still hurts.
I found myself growing somewhat irrationally upset at the wedding. Not angry, just upset. I had to excuse myself as I felt my face get hot and my eyes sting with tears. I quickly exited the reception tent and made my way inside. Why did I get so upset? Why was I bothered so? I don't know if I am facing the reality that we are all growing up, or if I was mourning my own self, or if I just miss my old friend. Whatever it was, it hit me and it hit me hard.
This also makes me think back to a conversation I had not just a few days ago with a good (make that fantastic) friend of mine. We were just sitting there, talking, when she asked me did I think that there was one person for everyone.
This is an interesting concept to me.
I used to think so. I used to think that there was one person out there for me, so beautifully and wonderfully made that I could not wait to find him. Then as time went by, my feelings changed.
Another close friend of mine once said that she thought there isn't just one person for everyone, but you find someone that you really love and you make it work. I hope there's not one person for everyone. Do you know how many people there are in this world? It seems as though it might be damn near impossible to find that special someone.
Like I said before, I don't know if I want to get married. But I do want to find that one person that I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with, that I just can't get enough of. As Carrie said in Sex and the City, "I am looking for love, can't live without it love."
Just not right now.
I am content to hang out and have fun with my friends, and I have some really great ones. I don't need anyone to complete me; I can complete myself, thanks.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel that nagging, aching pain, just gnawing at my heart and hollowing out my chest.
It hurts.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
squish, squish SQUEAK!
Ah, rainy days. I love rainy days. I love nothing more than to either go to bed with the rain tap, tapping on my windows or to wake up to a steady drizzle. (Only trouble is that I want to stay in bed all day!) I even have a fantastic noise machine with a rainstorm setting that lulls me to sleep.
Then there are the downsides to rain. I hate having to travel from car to building and feel all chilly and rained on and such. Traffic moves slower, and accidents are a bigger threat on slick roads. Plans get rained out, and there's always that one person who gets taken by surprise by the rain and rushes out to their car because they left their windows down. (i have done this on several occasions; I just thank God I don't have a car with a sunroof anymore...don't even GET me started!) There is the 6 inch or so section of your jeans that feels the need to soak up as much excess water as possible.
I remember being a little kid and getting off the school bus, excited to stomp in the puddles on my way up the driveway. Only problem was that L.A. Gears, though stylishly and fashionably made, had those little holes so that my eight-year-old feet could breathe. While this was helpful on hot summer days when I needed a little localized air circulation, it wasn't so conducive to puddle-jumping. The water quickly and gleefully found its way into those little holes and straight to my sock-clad feet.
Out of all these, though, there is one thing I hate the most.
I'm jogging into the school building, trying my best to dodge puddles, stay dry and hold on to all my personal belongings. As I reach the door, I do my best to wipe my feet on the mat, provided there is one. I walk through the double-doors and down the hall to my class. And then there it is.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
Squeaky Shoes McGee. That's who I am. It's even worse when you come in late, or if you are walking down a hall in which several classroom doors are open.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
After squeaking down the hall, I squeak into my classroom, over to my chair.
I've tried picking up my feet, which only makes me look like a show pony, high-stepping down the hall. I've also tried angling my feet differently as they hit the ground, but then the resulting sound is more like a SQUELCH.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
So what will I do? Short of wearing different shoes and carpeting the school hallways wall-to-wall....I guess I'll just live with it.
Until it becomes SQUEAK, SQUEAK, CRASH! Arms and legs flailing, books and things flying, cheeks reddening and pride diminishing, all ending with me in a weeping heap in the middle of the floor.
In case I haven't mentioned it before, someone falling on their ass is always funny. Sad, but hilariously true.
Then there are the downsides to rain. I hate having to travel from car to building and feel all chilly and rained on and such. Traffic moves slower, and accidents are a bigger threat on slick roads. Plans get rained out, and there's always that one person who gets taken by surprise by the rain and rushes out to their car because they left their windows down. (i have done this on several occasions; I just thank God I don't have a car with a sunroof anymore...don't even GET me started!) There is the 6 inch or so section of your jeans that feels the need to soak up as much excess water as possible.
I remember being a little kid and getting off the school bus, excited to stomp in the puddles on my way up the driveway. Only problem was that L.A. Gears, though stylishly and fashionably made, had those little holes so that my eight-year-old feet could breathe. While this was helpful on hot summer days when I needed a little localized air circulation, it wasn't so conducive to puddle-jumping. The water quickly and gleefully found its way into those little holes and straight to my sock-clad feet.
Out of all these, though, there is one thing I hate the most.
I'm jogging into the school building, trying my best to dodge puddles, stay dry and hold on to all my personal belongings. As I reach the door, I do my best to wipe my feet on the mat, provided there is one. I walk through the double-doors and down the hall to my class. And then there it is.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
Squeaky Shoes McGee. That's who I am. It's even worse when you come in late, or if you are walking down a hall in which several classroom doors are open.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
After squeaking down the hall, I squeak into my classroom, over to my chair.
I've tried picking up my feet, which only makes me look like a show pony, high-stepping down the hall. I've also tried angling my feet differently as they hit the ground, but then the resulting sound is more like a SQUELCH.
SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK.
So what will I do? Short of wearing different shoes and carpeting the school hallways wall-to-wall....I guess I'll just live with it.
Until it becomes SQUEAK, SQUEAK, CRASH! Arms and legs flailing, books and things flying, cheeks reddening and pride diminishing, all ending with me in a weeping heap in the middle of the floor.
In case I haven't mentioned it before, someone falling on their ass is always funny. Sad, but hilariously true.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
leftover meatloaf
So, I'm sitting here, watching Megan Mullally on her new talk show. For those of you not in the know, she played Karen on Will & Grace.
I have come to the assumption that the last stop on the celebrity has-been bus is talk show town.
She's fun enough, I guess. But today my interest was piqued more that just a little when I heard who her guests would be. Julianne Moore, normal. Jamie Kennedy, somewhat normal. And special musical guest....
Meatloaf?
Seriously, Megan? Did you even have to ask him? Hell, did you even have to pay him?
Mr. Loaf (or "Meat," as I have come to know his friends and back up singers call him) is looking a little rough for wear nowadays. I hate to say it, but even in his heyday he didn't look too great. He didn't sound very meaty, either. He was very shaky as he caressed the red hanky attached lovingly to his mike stand. I literally thought he might pass out, he looked so weak.
BUT I did love that one song he did, "I'll Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)." Though I never did find out exactly what that "thing" was. Hm. Now that I think about it, that was such a befuddling song. I also liked the one about Rock and Roll Dreams. I was in elementary school when my sister purchased the cassette tape for Bat Out of Hell II. I remembering getting a secret thrill as we listened to it, and seeing the word "hell." I also remember reading the liner notes and seeing the word "fuck" and going back to it repeatedly to see if it was still there. My sister was such a junior high badass. :)
ANYway. I digress.
Meat apparently has a new CD out, titled (somewhat surprisingly) Bat Out of Hell III.
My question is how many times is that damn bat going to come back?
I have come to the assumption that the last stop on the celebrity has-been bus is talk show town.
She's fun enough, I guess. But today my interest was piqued more that just a little when I heard who her guests would be. Julianne Moore, normal. Jamie Kennedy, somewhat normal. And special musical guest....
Meatloaf?
Seriously, Megan? Did you even have to ask him? Hell, did you even have to pay him?
Mr. Loaf (or "Meat," as I have come to know his friends and back up singers call him) is looking a little rough for wear nowadays. I hate to say it, but even in his heyday he didn't look too great. He didn't sound very meaty, either. He was very shaky as he caressed the red hanky attached lovingly to his mike stand. I literally thought he might pass out, he looked so weak.
BUT I did love that one song he did, "I'll Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)." Though I never did find out exactly what that "thing" was. Hm. Now that I think about it, that was such a befuddling song. I also liked the one about Rock and Roll Dreams. I was in elementary school when my sister purchased the cassette tape for Bat Out of Hell II. I remembering getting a secret thrill as we listened to it, and seeing the word "hell." I also remember reading the liner notes and seeing the word "fuck" and going back to it repeatedly to see if it was still there. My sister was such a junior high badass. :)
ANYway. I digress.
Meat apparently has a new CD out, titled (somewhat surprisingly) Bat Out of Hell III.
My question is how many times is that damn bat going to come back?
Monday, October 23, 2006
these boots were apparently NOT made for walkin'
So, I love shoes. And I love boots. If any of you have read any of my previous blogs, then you might know that I had a little spat with a very dear pair of Steve Madden cowboy boots of mine (I believe the title is sweet sixteens and charmed thirds). We had since made up, and I have really just been waiting for the right moment to bring 'em out, bring 'em out.
This morning as I consulted my sophisticated weather system (which means I go to the front door and stick my arm out), I pleasantly surprised to find it was so cold. Yay, this means sweaters and boots and pea coats (oh my!)
As I prepared for class, I grabbed a favorite sweater, warm jeans right out of the dryer (this makes me think of that Seinfield episode, you know, the one where Kramer always likes to have warm clothing, so he always puts them in a dryer, but then he sticks them in the oven, and....never mind), and then I pulled on my too cute boots.
I clip-clopped my way into Self Hall, held my head up high and enjoyed my boots. We got out of class a little early, and it seemed like a good day.
Oh, no. Not so fast.
As I was venturing down the hall with my good pal Kristin, I felt my feet do that familiar dance and....BAM!
Right in from under me (you'll remember that they didn't really fall "out" from under me), my knees hit the floor with a thud, my bookbag hit the ground, and my coffee cup smashed against the cold, hard tile.
Granted, no one in the hallway at the time laughed or pointed or kicked me whilst I was down, but no one really stopped to help or check or anything. Kristin freaked out, and I just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and rock myself over into a corner.
So now I have wounded knees, injured pride and a pair of shoes I'm ready to throw into my closet and never look at again.
Needless to say, we aren't friends anymore and it may very well be awhile before I want to go out with them again.
Damn you, Steve Madden. Damn you and your cute cowboy boots to hell!!!!!!!
This morning as I consulted my sophisticated weather system (which means I go to the front door and stick my arm out), I pleasantly surprised to find it was so cold. Yay, this means sweaters and boots and pea coats (oh my!)
As I prepared for class, I grabbed a favorite sweater, warm jeans right out of the dryer (this makes me think of that Seinfield episode, you know, the one where Kramer always likes to have warm clothing, so he always puts them in a dryer, but then he sticks them in the oven, and....never mind), and then I pulled on my too cute boots.
I clip-clopped my way into Self Hall, held my head up high and enjoyed my boots. We got out of class a little early, and it seemed like a good day.
Oh, no. Not so fast.
As I was venturing down the hall with my good pal Kristin, I felt my feet do that familiar dance and....BAM!
Right in from under me (you'll remember that they didn't really fall "out" from under me), my knees hit the floor with a thud, my bookbag hit the ground, and my coffee cup smashed against the cold, hard tile.
Granted, no one in the hallway at the time laughed or pointed or kicked me whilst I was down, but no one really stopped to help or check or anything. Kristin freaked out, and I just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and rock myself over into a corner.
So now I have wounded knees, injured pride and a pair of shoes I'm ready to throw into my closet and never look at again.
Needless to say, we aren't friends anymore and it may very well be awhile before I want to go out with them again.
Damn you, Steve Madden. Damn you and your cute cowboy boots to hell!!!!!!!
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
nothing left to "loose"
I hate that. For those of you that know me, I am a grammar Nazi, and it pains me so much to see lose spelled looose. The real looser is the person who puts it on a church sign, as I have recently observed. There is this one church, on Church St. (ironically, or maybe not) that I like to think of as the Church of Bad Grammar. Every time I pass by, which used to be often, something else is wrong. Now, I know that no one can be perfect all the time, and I make my own fair share of mistakes. However, if you are going to be assembling a church sign that will be visible to everyone, or a banner, or a marquee, or whatever, please please PLEASE make sure it is correct. Gah!
Also. I noticed that it is quite often that children feel the need to run 'round displaying their artwork with spray paint on walls and street signs and such. These "delinquents" have come into contact with several street signs in the area, and my favorite is the person that spray paints the word "DON'T" above the word "STOP" on a red stop sign.
I don't get it. Does this person honestly think that a driver will pull up, look at the sign, and then think to him or herself: "Oh, wait. That's one of those "Don't Stop" signs. What was I thinking putting on my brakes? I'll just cruise on through."
If you want to be a real menace to society, why not just take the whole thing? Cut out the middle man. There is a large percentage of the Alabama population that is illiterate anyway, and they won't take the time to discern what letter means what.
I guess the moral of the story is this: the next time you are driving about your local residential area, pay attention to the signs. If you come across one of those tricky "Don't Stop" signs, and you aren't sure, err on the side of caution. Go ahead and take the extra time to stop. If you decide not to heed this warning, proceed with caution at your own risk, my friend.
Also. I noticed that it is quite often that children feel the need to run 'round displaying their artwork with spray paint on walls and street signs and such. These "delinquents" have come into contact with several street signs in the area, and my favorite is the person that spray paints the word "DON'T" above the word "STOP" on a red stop sign.
I don't get it. Does this person honestly think that a driver will pull up, look at the sign, and then think to him or herself: "Oh, wait. That's one of those "Don't Stop" signs. What was I thinking putting on my brakes? I'll just cruise on through."
If you want to be a real menace to society, why not just take the whole thing? Cut out the middle man. There is a large percentage of the Alabama population that is illiterate anyway, and they won't take the time to discern what letter means what.
I guess the moral of the story is this: the next time you are driving about your local residential area, pay attention to the signs. If you come across one of those tricky "Don't Stop" signs, and you aren't sure, err on the side of caution. Go ahead and take the extra time to stop. If you decide not to heed this warning, proceed with caution at your own risk, my friend.
Wednesday, August 9, 2006
paper mache ponderings
There are some things that I see in my day to day life that disturb me a little bit. Even frighten me. Just random advertisements or products that it seems one could never ever want or even need. Or television commercials that are either too unbelievable or should have never been made. My favorites are late night infomercials and only-on-TV products (which you can usually find at Wal Mart or CVS) with a special one time only in the next 37 minutes offer! (Coincidentally these one time offers seem to still be going on a week or two later when I happen upon the same commercial again.) I love the one that asks you if you have trouble using normal curling irons and it shows the woman jabbing herself in the eye with the giant curling iron and fingering her frizzy hair with what can only be desribed as disgust. I think it's the one for the Revo Styler (yes, that's right, I remember the product name), this fancy rotating brush that styles and shines and slices and dices and cleans your entire home top to bottom (you get the idea) in one spin.
Here's what I'm thinking: (Okay, I never meant for any of this to be bold or unbolded, that's just my computer playing tricks on me) If you, as a woman with horribly frizzy hair and that may or may not have Tourret's or some other condition that causes your body to go into spasms that launch curling iron into your eye, cannot seem to manage using a simple curling iron, how in the HELL are you going to keep from getting a ROTATING brush stuck in your tangled mane? Just a thought.
A new commercial I caught on TV that made me giggle recently was for birth control. All these women were at a party, swilling cocktails, and I assume they were gossiping, and one woman made a comment about birth control, something, I've only really seen it once and have not had ample time to memorize it. Anyhow, this other girl says, "Yeah, and you shouldn't take it if you smoke!" The other girl responds with, "Right! And inform your doctor if you have heart palpitations, radioactive urine, blah blah blah" and then proceeds to rattle off all the precautions you normally hear voiced over in birth control commercials. But she does it like she just so happens to know and was just waiting for the perfect party topic to roll around so that she could flaunt her knowledge and experience on the subject. Cause I just KNOW that when I get together with all of my girlfriends, all we can talk about are MAOI inhibitors and glucosamine phenylhydrate levels (I just made that up, note, I just made that up)....oh, my gah, as if!
Then there's the tampon commercial where the clever and quick thinking girl inserts a tampax pearl into a hole in a boat she and her guy are paddling around a lake to stop a leak. Don't even GET me started.
I could go on all day about commercials, but that's not even what I intended to write about when I started this blog.
No, I was thinking of something a little different. Who can remember back to a time when you had fun birthday parties and things, and there were games and cake and ice cream and sometimes, a pinata? (Imagine the little tilda over the n) You know, with all the candy inside? All the kids would hit at it while blindfolded until someone hit the jackpot and there was candy everywhere?
Well, I was strolling down the party aisle with a good friend when we happened upon the pinatas. There was one shaped like a dinosaur, a peppermint, a race car, and......Dora the Explorer. Dios mio.
This made me stop dead in los zapatos. Now, I understand that children love, love Dora with all their corazones, but why would you want to string up an paper mache version of the Hispanic tot for the kids to beat the shit out of with a stick to get candy? It just seems like one big, bad ethnic joke to me. "C'mon, let's all cane the Mexican girl to get her candy." No esta bien, mis amigos. No esta bien.
That's all for now. More to come. Much more...
Here's what I'm thinking: (Okay, I never meant for any of this to be bold or unbolded, that's just my computer playing tricks on me) If you, as a woman with horribly frizzy hair and that may or may not have Tourret's or some other condition that causes your body to go into spasms that launch curling iron into your eye, cannot seem to manage using a simple curling iron, how in the HELL are you going to keep from getting a ROTATING brush stuck in your tangled mane? Just a thought.
A new commercial I caught on TV that made me giggle recently was for birth control. All these women were at a party, swilling cocktails, and I assume they were gossiping, and one woman made a comment about birth control, something, I've only really seen it once and have not had ample time to memorize it. Anyhow, this other girl says, "Yeah, and you shouldn't take it if you smoke!" The other girl responds with, "Right! And inform your doctor if you have heart palpitations, radioactive urine, blah blah blah" and then proceeds to rattle off all the precautions you normally hear voiced over in birth control commercials. But she does it like she just so happens to know and was just waiting for the perfect party topic to roll around so that she could flaunt her knowledge and experience on the subject. Cause I just KNOW that when I get together with all of my girlfriends, all we can talk about are MAOI inhibitors and glucosamine phenylhydrate levels (I just made that up, note, I just made that up)....oh, my gah, as if!
Then there's the tampon commercial where the clever and quick thinking girl inserts a tampax pearl into a hole in a boat she and her guy are paddling around a lake to stop a leak. Don't even GET me started.
I could go on all day about commercials, but that's not even what I intended to write about when I started this blog.
No, I was thinking of something a little different. Who can remember back to a time when you had fun birthday parties and things, and there were games and cake and ice cream and sometimes, a pinata? (Imagine the little tilda over the n) You know, with all the candy inside? All the kids would hit at it while blindfolded until someone hit the jackpot and there was candy everywhere?
Well, I was strolling down the party aisle with a good friend when we happened upon the pinatas. There was one shaped like a dinosaur, a peppermint, a race car, and......Dora the Explorer. Dios mio.
This made me stop dead in los zapatos. Now, I understand that children love, love Dora with all their corazones, but why would you want to string up an paper mache version of the Hispanic tot for the kids to beat the shit out of with a stick to get candy? It just seems like one big, bad ethnic joke to me. "C'mon, let's all cane the Mexican girl to get her candy." No esta bien, mis amigos. No esta bien.
That's all for now. More to come. Much more...
Monday, July 10, 2006
Slow down so I can "ketchup"
So, I'm dining with my sister at the local Arby's restaurant, and I find myself in a situation to which I am not unfamiliar.
I sat down with my tray of curly fries and Arby's signature roast beef, and I see there are several items on the table, possibly left over from the previous patron to occupy the booth. Several nakins and unopened condiment packets. At first glance, one might think this table was dirty and move on.
But, oh no. Not I. I saw deeper to the heart of the matter.
I don't know about you guys, but many a time have I been eating at a fast food restaurant and found myself with a surplus amount of condiments and napkins. But instead of just throwing them away, we would always leave them on the end of the table, thinking "We'll just leave these here for the next person to come along and use, so they won't go to waste. What a good deed we have done!"
But I ask you - how many times have you sat down to a table and thought, "Sweet! Check out all these ketchup packets and napkins already on the table! Now I don't have to get up and get any! It sure is lucky that whoever sat down before me was charitable enough to leave them for me!"
Hell, no, you haven't. If you are anything like me, you think "Ugh, gross, that is so nasty" as you gently push them further away. Or maybe you thrust them forcefully. Either way, I know I only trust condiments I get with my own two hands.
One more quick comment on cleanliness. Does anyone remember a time when Arby's had the sauce, ketchup, and horsey sauce right on the tables, in the squeeze bottles? Talk about on unsanitary. I never thought too much of it until I saw a kid sucking on one like a kitten nursing on its mama cat's nipple. Yes, sir, that was the end of using the squeeze bottles for Summer.
Anyway. That's all for tonight. More later.
I sat down with my tray of curly fries and Arby's signature roast beef, and I see there are several items on the table, possibly left over from the previous patron to occupy the booth. Several nakins and unopened condiment packets. At first glance, one might think this table was dirty and move on.
But, oh no. Not I. I saw deeper to the heart of the matter.
I don't know about you guys, but many a time have I been eating at a fast food restaurant and found myself with a surplus amount of condiments and napkins. But instead of just throwing them away, we would always leave them on the end of the table, thinking "We'll just leave these here for the next person to come along and use, so they won't go to waste. What a good deed we have done!"
But I ask you - how many times have you sat down to a table and thought, "Sweet! Check out all these ketchup packets and napkins already on the table! Now I don't have to get up and get any! It sure is lucky that whoever sat down before me was charitable enough to leave them for me!"
Hell, no, you haven't. If you are anything like me, you think "Ugh, gross, that is so nasty" as you gently push them further away. Or maybe you thrust them forcefully. Either way, I know I only trust condiments I get with my own two hands.
One more quick comment on cleanliness. Does anyone remember a time when Arby's had the sauce, ketchup, and horsey sauce right on the tables, in the squeeze bottles? Talk about on unsanitary. I never thought too much of it until I saw a kid sucking on one like a kitten nursing on its mama cat's nipple. Yes, sir, that was the end of using the squeeze bottles for Summer.
Anyway. That's all for tonight. More later.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
wham, bam, thank you, jam
I was staying over at my parents' house this weekend, and my mom tells me this morning that she made biscuits, help myself.
As I was preparing my morning treat, I went looking for jam and found none. Now, my mother, and my grandmother, and I think a large part of the population's mothers and grandmothers have that little drawer or whatever in which they keep those little condiment packets you get at fast food places. Our special place is in the fridge, in a ziploc, in the crisper drawer.
Sure enough, there were a couple of packets of strawberry jam, courtesy of Hardees in there. Or was it jelly? (While I'm thinking about it, what constitues the difference between a jam and a jelly? Is it consistency? Or is it purely based on matter of opinion? Is the jam or jelly in the eye of the jar holder? Hm. Then there are fruit spreads and preserves. I understand that they may have a considerable amount more fruit than jelly and jam, but what about the differences between just the two of those? And then there's apple butter, pumpkin butter, etc. That's not even a butter at all. But it's not a jam, jelly, preserve, or any of those. Anyway, I digress. This was not even the real point of this blog, but it's turning out to be just so.)
Anyhow, as I was spreading my jam/jelly on my biscuit, I pondered this thought: My mom keeps these little packets in the fridge, as she deems necessary. But at the restaurants, they are always just right out there, in a bin, not refrigerated.
This got me to thinking about some other things. When I am in the grocery store, I see products that make me wonder. Whenever I make pizza, I pick up some pepperoni, usually the little Hormel pepperonis that come in the little zipped bag. There is a whole plethora of them in the refrigerated section, next to the assorted cheeses and deli meats. However, when I turn around and walk back towards the cake mixes and baking necessities aisle, I see a large display showcasing the same pepperonis - NOT NEAR ANY COOLING APPARATUS!
That bothers me a little bit. Why would you refrigerate some, but not the others? They were exactly the same. And they are a meat product! I have also seen the ready-to-eat microwavable bacon in the same predicament at my local WalMart Super Center Food Center.
And then there are the little Jello cups that are in the breakfast section, or is it snacks? Anyway, they are just hanging up, and it says "No refrigeration needed!" No, thank you. I like my Jello cold. I don't trust hot Jello.
All I know is whenever I buy my pepperonis, I always choose from the selection in the refrigerator case. And I take from the back. (The same lesson is one that my mom always applied to milk ;)
As I was preparing my morning treat, I went looking for jam and found none. Now, my mother, and my grandmother, and I think a large part of the population's mothers and grandmothers have that little drawer or whatever in which they keep those little condiment packets you get at fast food places. Our special place is in the fridge, in a ziploc, in the crisper drawer.
Sure enough, there were a couple of packets of strawberry jam, courtesy of Hardees in there. Or was it jelly? (While I'm thinking about it, what constitues the difference between a jam and a jelly? Is it consistency? Or is it purely based on matter of opinion? Is the jam or jelly in the eye of the jar holder? Hm. Then there are fruit spreads and preserves. I understand that they may have a considerable amount more fruit than jelly and jam, but what about the differences between just the two of those? And then there's apple butter, pumpkin butter, etc. That's not even a butter at all. But it's not a jam, jelly, preserve, or any of those. Anyway, I digress. This was not even the real point of this blog, but it's turning out to be just so.)
Anyhow, as I was spreading my jam/jelly on my biscuit, I pondered this thought: My mom keeps these little packets in the fridge, as she deems necessary. But at the restaurants, they are always just right out there, in a bin, not refrigerated.
This got me to thinking about some other things. When I am in the grocery store, I see products that make me wonder. Whenever I make pizza, I pick up some pepperoni, usually the little Hormel pepperonis that come in the little zipped bag. There is a whole plethora of them in the refrigerated section, next to the assorted cheeses and deli meats. However, when I turn around and walk back towards the cake mixes and baking necessities aisle, I see a large display showcasing the same pepperonis - NOT NEAR ANY COOLING APPARATUS!
That bothers me a little bit. Why would you refrigerate some, but not the others? They were exactly the same. And they are a meat product! I have also seen the ready-to-eat microwavable bacon in the same predicament at my local WalMart Super Center Food Center.
And then there are the little Jello cups that are in the breakfast section, or is it snacks? Anyway, they are just hanging up, and it says "No refrigeration needed!" No, thank you. I like my Jello cold. I don't trust hot Jello.
All I know is whenever I buy my pepperonis, I always choose from the selection in the refrigerator case. And I take from the back. (The same lesson is one that my mom always applied to milk ;)
Thursday, June 1, 2006
marketing genius
Has anyone else seen the new Dr Pepper commercial? First of all, I just want to say that the flavored soda craze has gotten way out of hand. If I see one more diet, caffeine free, orange-pineapple-guava-passion-melon-fruit-snoozleberry-jazzamatazz soda, I think I will literally smash a can of said soda into the forehead of the nearest person drinking it. (Okay. Now that was a little violent. Maybe instead I will calmly walk away from the refrigerator case and say, "No thanks. I don't think so." Maybe.)
For those of you not up to speed, the flavor del dia is "Berries and Cream." Which seems innocent enough. The whole premise of the ad is that the guy can't take his hands (or mouth) off of his soda can because it is so good. I imagine it should be - that's three food groups right there in one can. You've got your fruits, dairy , sugars (it may be at the top of the pyramid, and it maybe small, but it's a part of the pyramid, damn it!) - too bad it wasn't breaded-porkchops-with-berries-and-cream - you could squeeze in carbs and a meat as well. But the kid even takes his drink in the pool as he is swimming laps in a meet! Which I must say, seems totally unrealistic to me. A lot of public swim areas don't even allow food or drinks near the pool, and definitely not in. Also there is a sanitation concern - do you know how many pool patrons consider that thing to be a giant pit stop? And if you are drinking both in and out of the water, how do you take breaths?
anyway, I'm digressing.
None of the things I have described up to this point are nearly as disturbing as the very end of the commercial. They show a can of the soda surrounded by berries, et cetera, and then comes the tagline:
"Get Berried in Cream."
Ew. Seriously? Honestly guys. That is a little much. As a friend of mine put it, "i need no references to vaginal discharge while I am trying to quench my thirst, thanks." (For those of you still in the dark, "cream" is a euphemism for...never mind. I can't even say it. And I sure as hell couldn't pitch an ad campaign based around that.) I am grossly bothered by this. Everytime I see it I think, "No, please no. Maybe it's different this time around. Maybe - no, wait. There it is."
Oh, well. I need to get in bed. Here's wishing all of you a surplus of juicy berries and a magnificent flood of cream.
***LATER NOTE: Okay, I was pilfering around, hoping to find a little picture of the Berries and Cream tagline, or the can, something to snazz up the old blog. I searched google, and i got several results, but it also told me this:
Did you mean: get married in cream
Your search - get berried in cream - did not match any documents.
Suggestions:
Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Try different keywords.
Try more general keywords.
Try fewer keywords.
Can I just say maybe before I was merely looking to get berried in cream, and I now I see that there is a whole world of options out there - getting married in cream? It's sad that that's the first place they go, when berried in cream doesn't provide as many results.
I went to the Dr Pepper website, and I found a little info. more importantly, they have an online store. right now I'm thinking, please God, let there be a way for me to get a berried in cream t shirt...I'm currently searching the site. (Can I quickly say that I freakin hate dial up internet?!?! I'm staying at my parents' so I hooked up to their modem, and this SUCKS!)
Damn. No such luck. But if anyone else comes across one (ooh....no pun intended. think about that one. yeah, that's right. I went there;), I know a certain gal who'd like to get her fair share of that sweet indulgence - on a t-shirt. (I just want to say that there are a million things floating through my head on this subject, and 99.7f them are dirty - i just don't feel right saying them in mixed company.)
Now, I leave you with...the commercial.
For those of you not up to speed, the flavor del dia is "Berries and Cream." Which seems innocent enough. The whole premise of the ad is that the guy can't take his hands (or mouth) off of his soda can because it is so good. I imagine it should be - that's three food groups right there in one can. You've got your fruits, dairy , sugars (it may be at the top of the pyramid, and it maybe small, but it's a part of the pyramid, damn it!) - too bad it wasn't breaded-porkchops-with-berries-and-cream - you could squeeze in carbs and a meat as well. But the kid even takes his drink in the pool as he is swimming laps in a meet! Which I must say, seems totally unrealistic to me. A lot of public swim areas don't even allow food or drinks near the pool, and definitely not in. Also there is a sanitation concern - do you know how many pool patrons consider that thing to be a giant pit stop? And if you are drinking both in and out of the water, how do you take breaths?
anyway, I'm digressing.
None of the things I have described up to this point are nearly as disturbing as the very end of the commercial. They show a can of the soda surrounded by berries, et cetera, and then comes the tagline:
"Get Berried in Cream."
Ew. Seriously? Honestly guys. That is a little much. As a friend of mine put it, "i need no references to vaginal discharge while I am trying to quench my thirst, thanks." (For those of you still in the dark, "cream" is a euphemism for...never mind. I can't even say it. And I sure as hell couldn't pitch an ad campaign based around that.) I am grossly bothered by this. Everytime I see it I think, "No, please no. Maybe it's different this time around. Maybe - no, wait. There it is."
Oh, well. I need to get in bed. Here's wishing all of you a surplus of juicy berries and a magnificent flood of cream.
***LATER NOTE: Okay, I was pilfering around, hoping to find a little picture of the Berries and Cream tagline, or the can, something to snazz up the old blog. I searched google, and i got several results, but it also told me this:
Did you mean: get married in cream
Your search - get berried in cream - did not match any documents.
Suggestions:
Make sure all words are spelled correctly.
Try different keywords.
Try more general keywords.
Try fewer keywords.
Can I just say maybe before I was merely looking to get berried in cream, and I now I see that there is a whole world of options out there - getting married in cream? It's sad that that's the first place they go, when berried in cream doesn't provide as many results.
I went to the Dr Pepper website, and I found a little info. more importantly, they have an online store. right now I'm thinking, please God, let there be a way for me to get a berried in cream t shirt...I'm currently searching the site. (Can I quickly say that I freakin hate dial up internet?!?! I'm staying at my parents' so I hooked up to their modem, and this SUCKS!)
Damn. No such luck. But if anyone else comes across one (ooh....no pun intended. think about that one. yeah, that's right. I went there;), I know a certain gal who'd like to get her fair share of that sweet indulgence - on a t-shirt. (I just want to say that there are a million things floating through my head on this subject, and 99.7f them are dirty - i just don't feel right saying them in mixed company.)
Now, I leave you with...the commercial.
Tuesday, May 9, 2006
i'm a multi-tasker.
Wow. I reached a new all-time low this morning.
I do a lot of things in the car, like makeup, talking on the phone, ironing - you know, the usual. (*DISCLAIMER i do not actually iron while driving, that was an over exaggeration used for humorous person. i mean please. I don't have a plug-in in my car. But I'm sure there are several people out there who feel me when I say I would seriously consider it were it at all possible.)
ANYway, I digress. As I was making the 35 minute plus drive to Jacksonville, I added a new thing to my list.
I brushed my teeth.
Yes, that's right, I brushed my teeth whilst driving to school. But I had to ask myself - did my need for personal oral hygiene trump my lost dignity as I performed said usual morning bathroom ritual? something to think about.
I do a lot of things in the car, like makeup, talking on the phone, ironing - you know, the usual. (*DISCLAIMER i do not actually iron while driving, that was an over exaggeration used for humorous person. i mean please. I don't have a plug-in in my car. But I'm sure there are several people out there who feel me when I say I would seriously consider it were it at all possible.)
ANYway, I digress. As I was making the 35 minute plus drive to Jacksonville, I added a new thing to my list.
I brushed my teeth.
Yes, that's right, I brushed my teeth whilst driving to school. But I had to ask myself - did my need for personal oral hygiene trump my lost dignity as I performed said usual morning bathroom ritual? something to think about.
Friday, April 14, 2006
back that thang up
As I arrived to class this morning, a little late as usual, I saw something that bothered me.
I always, ALWAYS parallel park on the side of the building, underneath the trees. There are (almost) always spaces here, and you don't have to have a sticker, AND it's perfectly legal with easy access to the Stone Center.
This morning, however, my attention was diverted to a Ford Focus. There is a nice long stretch of places to park, and Mr. or Ms. Focus was (I should only hope inadvertently) taking up about THREE of them.
I absolutely cannot stand it when someone feels the need to double park, park too close, too sideways, or not far enough in. If said Focus would have just pulled a little closer to the end of the line, or a little closer to the law abiding Malibu behind, another car could have easily fit in there!
But no. You pull around the side of the building, get excited because you see a normally great park, and...no, wait. There is just enough room so that you can't park there. It's sort of like when you are cruising the parking spaces at Wal-Mart, and you get that little flutter of excitement because you see a really great front park, and oh my gosh, why didn't the car in front of me pull in there? and this is just my luck and you put on your blinker because you want everyone to know that you are Lord or Lady of the Lot and that this is your space, and then - it's a teeny, tiny, sports car, pulled all the way to the line, sandwhiched between a Suburban and a Tahoe, fooling you into thinking there isn't really a car parked there. Damn!
Or it's kind of like the inevitable rule that once you give up and park in the back and decidem "Hey, I need the exercise anyway," you are almost taken out by a car leaving a front row park who can't get out of there faster. Honestly. I have had those moments where I wonder if I can still make it back to my car to pull it up closer (which is stupid), or if I a random passerby, I have been tempted to say, "You there - stand here and guard this spot whilst I pull the Cavvy around!" (Which is more stupid - but I have actually done it at the University of Alabama at the music hall...)
Anyway, I digress. Everyone have a great day and a fabulous Easter weekend.
I always, ALWAYS parallel park on the side of the building, underneath the trees. There are (almost) always spaces here, and you don't have to have a sticker, AND it's perfectly legal with easy access to the Stone Center.
This morning, however, my attention was diverted to a Ford Focus. There is a nice long stretch of places to park, and Mr. or Ms. Focus was (I should only hope inadvertently) taking up about THREE of them.
I absolutely cannot stand it when someone feels the need to double park, park too close, too sideways, or not far enough in. If said Focus would have just pulled a little closer to the end of the line, or a little closer to the law abiding Malibu behind, another car could have easily fit in there!
But no. You pull around the side of the building, get excited because you see a normally great park, and...no, wait. There is just enough room so that you can't park there. It's sort of like when you are cruising the parking spaces at Wal-Mart, and you get that little flutter of excitement because you see a really great front park, and oh my gosh, why didn't the car in front of me pull in there? and this is just my luck and you put on your blinker because you want everyone to know that you are Lord or Lady of the Lot and that this is your space, and then - it's a teeny, tiny, sports car, pulled all the way to the line, sandwhiched between a Suburban and a Tahoe, fooling you into thinking there isn't really a car parked there. Damn!
Or it's kind of like the inevitable rule that once you give up and park in the back and decidem "Hey, I need the exercise anyway," you are almost taken out by a car leaving a front row park who can't get out of there faster. Honestly. I have had those moments where I wonder if I can still make it back to my car to pull it up closer (which is stupid), or if I a random passerby, I have been tempted to say, "You there - stand here and guard this spot whilst I pull the Cavvy around!" (Which is more stupid - but I have actually done it at the University of Alabama at the music hall...)
Anyway, I digress. Everyone have a great day and a fabulous Easter weekend.
Monday, April 10, 2006
sweet sixteens & charmed thirds
My cousin just turned sixteen this past week, and they had a big party for her on Saturday. Let me just say, when I turned sixteen, I don't think I did ANYTHING. Not one thing. I may have had some friends over, but that's about it. (On that note, oh how I miss the sleepovers we used to have at my house when I was in high school. Such fun!!)
Anyway, I'm digressing. My aunt threw her a big soiree for her sweet sixteen. She and all her friends wore formal dresses and boys wore dress clothes and ties and such - how adorable! Not only that, but there was a decent spread of food, a DJ, and...a chocolate fountain! My sister had a chocolate fountain at her wedding, for goodness sakes! Granted, this one was a little smaller, but a chocolate fountain nonetheless! Throw in Jude Law and giant pile of shoes, and you've got heaven for me in a nutshell! Literally - instead of of the land of milk and honey, I long for a place where the chocolate flows freely and I can run through it ankle-deep in my strappy slingback sandals...well, maybe not. That doesn't exactly sound sanitary, now does it?
Anyway, once again I have lost myself to a tangent. Damn those things! The only thing better than the chocolate fountain was the opportunity to see pre-pubescent (okay, in-the-midst pubescent) 15- and 16-year old white kids attempt to dance. There was one signature move, a throwback to the Hustle and the Snoop Dogg "Drop It Like It's Hot" move. Some of the kids seriously should have dropped it. Seriously. It was the funniest thing I have seen in about two weeks. And there is always that one Mom who feels the need to break it down with the kids. She was literally rubbing her "lady lumps" all over some 16-year-old kids that could barely handle his own lumps, let alone hers. THEN the highlight of the evening - a kid who liked to call himself "Times Two" and apparently had a CD out with the new hits "Something Something Booty" (I can't remember the first two words) and "How U Luv That." He took the stage by storm singing, "Alright, let's go, go get drunk, go get high..." etc., etc. Shortly after, he was removed from the mic. Needless to say, the grandparents and parents in the crowd did NOT "Luv That." Apparently, Time Two got multiplied by Zero. Those of you out there who are mathematicians know what that means....you get nothin'.
Another bit of excitement that night...I locked my keys in my car at the Mellow Mushroom. It was an accident - I swapped purses, but carried the other one with me in the car (this is my trick - I carry only what I need in the little one, but I drag my giant saddle bag along and keep it in the car.) I forgot what I was doing and I was a little bit of recon-work on my hair and makeup, and slipped the keys into my other purse. Lucky enough, the Oxford police were nice enough to come and help me out. Other than that, i don't wanna talk about it...
I was in a mood this afternoon, so I got in my car and just started driving. Everyone has their vices when they are depressed, etc. what have you. Mine? Books. That's right. I drove down to the Books a Million in Oxford and delighted myself in buying two new books. I spent waaay too much on a book I have been waiting on for a reaaaally long time, and then I bought another that just looked good.
The book I have been waiting on, Charmed Thirds, is third in a series of books by Megan McCafferty. These books are absolutely HILARIOUS. Seriously. They are published on an adult label to reach beyond the young adult masses, but they are young adult books. However, they are deliciously different in that they deal with much more mature subject matter, at least in a different way. I loved the first two, Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings and I have been read for this book. It wasn't supposed to come out til tomorrow, but imagine my elation when i happened upon it by accident. I almost collided with a display for the Da Vinci code books (another one that i would like to pick up..along with A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I'm an Oprah's Book Club whore ) and libros de espanol (Spanish titles).
The other book I bought is Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin, I think is her name. It's about a girl who was always the good girl, until her best friend throws her a big thirtieth bday bash, after which she gets really drunk and sleeps with her best bud's fiancee - oops! Can't wait to read this one...
Anyway, I'm digressing. My aunt threw her a big soiree for her sweet sixteen. She and all her friends wore formal dresses and boys wore dress clothes and ties and such - how adorable! Not only that, but there was a decent spread of food, a DJ, and...a chocolate fountain! My sister had a chocolate fountain at her wedding, for goodness sakes! Granted, this one was a little smaller, but a chocolate fountain nonetheless! Throw in Jude Law and giant pile of shoes, and you've got heaven for me in a nutshell! Literally - instead of of the land of milk and honey, I long for a place where the chocolate flows freely and I can run through it ankle-deep in my strappy slingback sandals...well, maybe not. That doesn't exactly sound sanitary, now does it?
Anyway, once again I have lost myself to a tangent. Damn those things! The only thing better than the chocolate fountain was the opportunity to see pre-pubescent (okay, in-the-midst pubescent) 15- and 16-year old white kids attempt to dance. There was one signature move, a throwback to the Hustle and the Snoop Dogg "Drop It Like It's Hot" move. Some of the kids seriously should have dropped it. Seriously. It was the funniest thing I have seen in about two weeks. And there is always that one Mom who feels the need to break it down with the kids. She was literally rubbing her "lady lumps" all over some 16-year-old kids that could barely handle his own lumps, let alone hers. THEN the highlight of the evening - a kid who liked to call himself "Times Two" and apparently had a CD out with the new hits "Something Something Booty" (I can't remember the first two words) and "How U Luv That." He took the stage by storm singing, "Alright, let's go, go get drunk, go get high..." etc., etc. Shortly after, he was removed from the mic. Needless to say, the grandparents and parents in the crowd did NOT "Luv That." Apparently, Time Two got multiplied by Zero. Those of you out there who are mathematicians know what that means....you get nothin'.
Another bit of excitement that night...I locked my keys in my car at the Mellow Mushroom. It was an accident - I swapped purses, but carried the other one with me in the car (this is my trick - I carry only what I need in the little one, but I drag my giant saddle bag along and keep it in the car.) I forgot what I was doing and I was a little bit of recon-work on my hair and makeup, and slipped the keys into my other purse. Lucky enough, the Oxford police were nice enough to come and help me out. Other than that, i don't wanna talk about it...
I was in a mood this afternoon, so I got in my car and just started driving. Everyone has their vices when they are depressed, etc. what have you. Mine? Books. That's right. I drove down to the Books a Million in Oxford and delighted myself in buying two new books. I spent waaay too much on a book I have been waiting on for a reaaaally long time, and then I bought another that just looked good.
The book I have been waiting on, Charmed Thirds, is third in a series of books by Megan McCafferty. These books are absolutely HILARIOUS. Seriously. They are published on an adult label to reach beyond the young adult masses, but they are young adult books. However, they are deliciously different in that they deal with much more mature subject matter, at least in a different way. I loved the first two, Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings and I have been read for this book. It wasn't supposed to come out til tomorrow, but imagine my elation when i happened upon it by accident. I almost collided with a display for the Da Vinci code books (another one that i would like to pick up..along with A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I'm an Oprah's Book Club whore ) and libros de espanol (Spanish titles).
The other book I bought is Something Borrowed by Emily Giffin, I think is her name. It's about a girl who was always the good girl, until her best friend throws her a big thirtieth bday bash, after which she gets really drunk and sleeps with her best bud's fiancee - oops! Can't wait to read this one...
Sunday, March 26, 2006
People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw cantaloupes...
...hee, hee, hee...I love Sex and the City. And yes, it is four o clock in the morning and I am STILL awake. I have worked every single day (night) this week, and I have tonight (but not today) off from work, and I have done nothing. At all. Well, except run all around the freakin town trying to find the ingredients to make pizza.
Let me start at the semi-beginning (not that it's really that exciting, from the beginning or the middle). I made a peanut butter pie to take with me to work this morning (i made it whilst staying at my parents' house) and I was so proud of myself, especially since I remembered it - only I didn't remember it until I was at Red Lobster's back door. Oh, well. I took a detour on the way home tonight to pick it up so I would have it to take tomorrow (technically, today). That took a little time, plus I got caught up in a very special Lifetime movie. No, seriously. It was one woman's struggle....anyway. I grabbed the pie and we jammed back to Jville.
(Oh, and my CD played is screwed up, and I don't know what is wrong with it. The darn thing keeps making an angry buzzing, whirring noise and it says "ERR" - well, not out loud. It just has that displayed across the digital thingie. It's kind of annoying. Esp when there isn't anything on the radio.) I stopped by Steph's to chat with her for a bit, and I ended up being there for a while. I made my WalMart trip so that I would have the necessary ingredients to make the pizza I had to been SO looking forward to. I finally got home around 8, maybe? I heated the oven, changed into something comfy, fed the cats, etc. Then I went to get my stuff together and....NO YEAST! I then remembered that Mel had made some bread or something a while back, and I assume that would take a lot of yeast. I was determined to have pizza, so believe it or not I went back to wal mart, darted in to get my yeast, narrowly missed the annoying door greeter, purchased my necessaries, and left. I was gettin excited about the pizza by this time. I was really worked into a tizzy about it. Once I get home, I go to take out the flour that has the only pizza recipe I like to use bc I know it works and....NO FLOUR. I kid you not. I ended up having plenty of wheat flour and JUST enough white to do what I needed, only I had to improvise the recipe. It was delish, but what a pain in the ass this whole night was. I couldn't really even enjoy it, bc it was almost midnight by the time I finished. :(
I took a long satisfying bath, but I learned an important lesson: if you have a yummy bath product from Bath and Body Works, read the label. And if it says, "Do not use on freshly shaven skin," they ain't kidding. I learned that the hard way. I literally thought my skin was burning off and escaping down the drain. They should put that on the label!!!!! IN BOLD PRINT!!! If I had had any military secrets, I was ready to talk. That should be a torture technique. Crap, man.
Also, I got into a fight with my newest pair of shoes. We aren't really on the best terms - we are totally not speaking. I bought the CUTEST pair of Steve Madden cowboy boots for myself for Valentine's Day (after all, I've been SO good to me all year long!) and I haven't worn them a whole whole lot. Well, I wore them into the bank to see mi madre. I was gracefully striding across the room to the door, when suddenly my feet went not out from under me but in. My ankle slid inwards and I knocked the hell out of my knee(s). Oh, holy crap did it hurt. The only thing that hurt worse than my knee was my pride. I was like, "Golly, gee, did you see that? right out from under me! Have a fantastic day!" and then I proceeded to haul ass out of there. If I would have fallen backwards, I would not have gotten up. I promise you. I would have curled up into the fetal position and rocked my way towards my car in the parking lot. How emBARassing! I later found out from my mom that the man who cleans the floors uses furniture polish to make the floors shiny. Are you FREAKIN kidding me. Cause that's not a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Hm. Anyway. now that that's out. Maybe I'll try and get some sleep. Maybe...
Let me start at the semi-beginning (not that it's really that exciting, from the beginning or the middle). I made a peanut butter pie to take with me to work this morning (i made it whilst staying at my parents' house) and I was so proud of myself, especially since I remembered it - only I didn't remember it until I was at Red Lobster's back door. Oh, well. I took a detour on the way home tonight to pick it up so I would have it to take tomorrow (technically, today). That took a little time, plus I got caught up in a very special Lifetime movie. No, seriously. It was one woman's struggle....anyway. I grabbed the pie and we jammed back to Jville.
(Oh, and my CD played is screwed up, and I don't know what is wrong with it. The darn thing keeps making an angry buzzing, whirring noise and it says "ERR" - well, not out loud. It just has that displayed across the digital thingie. It's kind of annoying. Esp when there isn't anything on the radio.) I stopped by Steph's to chat with her for a bit, and I ended up being there for a while. I made my WalMart trip so that I would have the necessary ingredients to make the pizza I had to been SO looking forward to. I finally got home around 8, maybe? I heated the oven, changed into something comfy, fed the cats, etc. Then I went to get my stuff together and....NO YEAST! I then remembered that Mel had made some bread or something a while back, and I assume that would take a lot of yeast. I was determined to have pizza, so believe it or not I went back to wal mart, darted in to get my yeast, narrowly missed the annoying door greeter, purchased my necessaries, and left. I was gettin excited about the pizza by this time. I was really worked into a tizzy about it. Once I get home, I go to take out the flour that has the only pizza recipe I like to use bc I know it works and....NO FLOUR. I kid you not. I ended up having plenty of wheat flour and JUST enough white to do what I needed, only I had to improvise the recipe. It was delish, but what a pain in the ass this whole night was. I couldn't really even enjoy it, bc it was almost midnight by the time I finished. :(
I took a long satisfying bath, but I learned an important lesson: if you have a yummy bath product from Bath and Body Works, read the label. And if it says, "Do not use on freshly shaven skin," they ain't kidding. I learned that the hard way. I literally thought my skin was burning off and escaping down the drain. They should put that on the label!!!!! IN BOLD PRINT!!! If I had had any military secrets, I was ready to talk. That should be a torture technique. Crap, man.
Also, I got into a fight with my newest pair of shoes. We aren't really on the best terms - we are totally not speaking. I bought the CUTEST pair of Steve Madden cowboy boots for myself for Valentine's Day (after all, I've been SO good to me all year long!) and I haven't worn them a whole whole lot. Well, I wore them into the bank to see mi madre. I was gracefully striding across the room to the door, when suddenly my feet went not out from under me but in. My ankle slid inwards and I knocked the hell out of my knee(s). Oh, holy crap did it hurt. The only thing that hurt worse than my knee was my pride. I was like, "Golly, gee, did you see that? right out from under me! Have a fantastic day!" and then I proceeded to haul ass out of there. If I would have fallen backwards, I would not have gotten up. I promise you. I would have curled up into the fetal position and rocked my way towards my car in the parking lot. How emBARassing! I later found out from my mom that the man who cleans the floors uses furniture polish to make the floors shiny. Are you FREAKIN kidding me. Cause that's not a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Hm. Anyway. now that that's out. Maybe I'll try and get some sleep. Maybe...
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Happy Tuesday
Happy Birthday to Stephany, first of all. That's the only good thing about this God-forsaken day. I swear, I hate Valentine's Day. I always have. Just don't like it. Don't get me wrong, I love candy, and those little shortbread cookies (even if they are in the shape of hearts), and I can't wait for the day after when WalMart discounts all the candy and stuff. But if I have to see one more paper heart, or a stuffed gorilla or bear or rhinoceros or any other gargantuan animal that hallmark thinks would realistically be squeezing a fuzzy heart and saying "I love you", I will lose my freakin mind.
Maybe I'm a little cynical. Just a touch. But I think that if you need a special holiday to tell your significant other that you love them, that's sad. They should already know. Wanna buy a gift? Go ahead. But that's also what anniversaries, birthdays, Christmases, non-Christian holidays, Arbor Day, Flag Day, and whatever the hell other days are for. Honestly, we are just setting ourselves up for another time when we have to buy a gift, or a card, or show some obligatory affection.
And then there's the looks us singletons get from those already coupled up. My favorite salutation on V-Day (or basically anytime I say I'm not in a serious relationship) is "Oh don't worry. You'll find someone." As if that's all I am worried about. And what about someone finding me? I'm a catch! I'm not worried about being in a relationship. I don't want one. The only one who seems to be worried about it is everyone else. I'm in no hurry to get attached. I am perfectly content to treat no one but MYSELF on February 14th, and every other day for that matter.
On to the topic of serious relationships. whatever the heck that label means. The word serious can sometimes be distorted. I know some people that are in "serious relationships" and the only thing they are is "seriously pathetic." Or "seriously miserable." But they don't want to break up with him or her because they don't want to be alone. (Because that would be SO much worse than where they already are.) Or they say "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand." Trust me. I don't understand. Nor do I want to. Seems a hell of a lot simpler to be ignorant in that situation.
And on to displays of affection. This is tricky. I understand that when you are in love, you just want the whole world to know, and you can't wait to put your stamp on this other person saying "This is mine. Don't touch." It makes me think of a dog or cat peeing on something to leave its mark: it's gross, it stinks, and it seems primitive. Oh, and generally it offends those who are around. Honestly, if you feel as bad for those that are around you that are single, spare us. Keep that at home, in the bedroom, or on National Geographic. I really don't need to see the PG-13 version of how babies are made. I'm all set here, thanks.
Now, I am not knocking relationships, or marriages, or courtships, or those of you that are in any of the above. Some of my best friends are married or dating someone. And I love them just the same. The only thing I have a problem with is anyone acting like it is so much better to be in one of those things. Please, God, don't look down on me, or feel sorry for me, or pity me. I don't need it. I feel bad about myself for other reasons at times, and that is the last thing I need.
I didn't mean for this to turn into a rant, but it did. Sorry guys. (Not even sure if anybody reads this or not.) And if any of you think that I am a cold-hearted bitch, read my last post. I am entirely capable of compassion and feelings. If you still don't believe me, screw you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
Maybe I'm a little cynical. Just a touch. But I think that if you need a special holiday to tell your significant other that you love them, that's sad. They should already know. Wanna buy a gift? Go ahead. But that's also what anniversaries, birthdays, Christmases, non-Christian holidays, Arbor Day, Flag Day, and whatever the hell other days are for. Honestly, we are just setting ourselves up for another time when we have to buy a gift, or a card, or show some obligatory affection.
And then there's the looks us singletons get from those already coupled up. My favorite salutation on V-Day (or basically anytime I say I'm not in a serious relationship) is "Oh don't worry. You'll find someone." As if that's all I am worried about. And what about someone finding me? I'm a catch! I'm not worried about being in a relationship. I don't want one. The only one who seems to be worried about it is everyone else. I'm in no hurry to get attached. I am perfectly content to treat no one but MYSELF on February 14th, and every other day for that matter.
On to the topic of serious relationships. whatever the heck that label means. The word serious can sometimes be distorted. I know some people that are in "serious relationships" and the only thing they are is "seriously pathetic." Or "seriously miserable." But they don't want to break up with him or her because they don't want to be alone. (Because that would be SO much worse than where they already are.) Or they say "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand." Trust me. I don't understand. Nor do I want to. Seems a hell of a lot simpler to be ignorant in that situation.
And on to displays of affection. This is tricky. I understand that when you are in love, you just want the whole world to know, and you can't wait to put your stamp on this other person saying "This is mine. Don't touch." It makes me think of a dog or cat peeing on something to leave its mark: it's gross, it stinks, and it seems primitive. Oh, and generally it offends those who are around. Honestly, if you feel as bad for those that are around you that are single, spare us. Keep that at home, in the bedroom, or on National Geographic. I really don't need to see the PG-13 version of how babies are made. I'm all set here, thanks.
Now, I am not knocking relationships, or marriages, or courtships, or those of you that are in any of the above. Some of my best friends are married or dating someone. And I love them just the same. The only thing I have a problem with is anyone acting like it is so much better to be in one of those things. Please, God, don't look down on me, or feel sorry for me, or pity me. I don't need it. I feel bad about myself for other reasons at times, and that is the last thing I need.
I didn't mean for this to turn into a rant, but it did. Sorry guys. (Not even sure if anybody reads this or not.) And if any of you think that I am a cold-hearted bitch, read my last post. I am entirely capable of compassion and feelings. If you still don't believe me, screw you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
high school
High School
It's so weird to me...here recently I've been getting all these adds and stuff from people that I went to high school with. I mean, it's only been like three years since I graduated, but it feels like forever. I remember thinking that some of these people I might never see again, but with all this new technology, it's entirely possible.
I guess I liked high school okay. I mean, there are definitely moments I choose to forget and times where I just wanted to scream! (And probably did.) But I had some good times, too. I loved being on the yearbook and newspaper staff, I loved seeing a lot of the same people everyday, and I especially loved getting to see all my close girlfriends and hang out with them. I miss you guys! I remember thinking that when we graduated, things would never be the same. And they haven't been. Some of us have gotten married, a few have moved away, some have had children )not just my girls, but everyone I went to school with). But I don't think things changing is a bad thing. Not at all. We just grew up, that's all. Most of the people I graduated with I have known since kindergarten. We are from such a small school and a small town; we all knew everything about one another.
And now it's getting closer to time for me to graduate college. At least, I hope. And that means that a lot of the class of 2003 are getting closer to entering the world and trying to figure out we want to do, as if we haven't been doing that for the past three years anyway. Whenever I see people I went to school with, I alwamys like to see how they've changed, how they've stayed the same. Then it kills me for people to see me and say that I haven't changed a bit. I feel like a completely different person. My first reaction is "What!?!?! I cut my hair!" (Which, coincidentally, is what I seemed to be known for, and it has grown back out, and that's kinda stupid). But also, I feel so much different. I moved out. FINALLY. I am trying to take control of my life. i think differently, I talk differently, I believe in a whole new way of thinking. But I guess a lot of it is inner change. Like I said, I grew up. But sometimes...you do want to return to that immature way of thinking. Not just high school. Way before that. like, elementary school, when we were just kids, and everything was so simple.
Anyway. Just a thought. I miss my friends.
It's so weird to me...here recently I've been getting all these adds and stuff from people that I went to high school with. I mean, it's only been like three years since I graduated, but it feels like forever. I remember thinking that some of these people I might never see again, but with all this new technology, it's entirely possible.
I guess I liked high school okay. I mean, there are definitely moments I choose to forget and times where I just wanted to scream! (And probably did.) But I had some good times, too. I loved being on the yearbook and newspaper staff, I loved seeing a lot of the same people everyday, and I especially loved getting to see all my close girlfriends and hang out with them. I miss you guys! I remember thinking that when we graduated, things would never be the same. And they haven't been. Some of us have gotten married, a few have moved away, some have had children )not just my girls, but everyone I went to school with). But I don't think things changing is a bad thing. Not at all. We just grew up, that's all. Most of the people I graduated with I have known since kindergarten. We are from such a small school and a small town; we all knew everything about one another.
And now it's getting closer to time for me to graduate college. At least, I hope. And that means that a lot of the class of 2003 are getting closer to entering the world and trying to figure out we want to do, as if we haven't been doing that for the past three years anyway. Whenever I see people I went to school with, I alwamys like to see how they've changed, how they've stayed the same. Then it kills me for people to see me and say that I haven't changed a bit. I feel like a completely different person. My first reaction is "What!?!?! I cut my hair!" (Which, coincidentally, is what I seemed to be known for, and it has grown back out, and that's kinda stupid). But also, I feel so much different. I moved out. FINALLY. I am trying to take control of my life. i think differently, I talk differently, I believe in a whole new way of thinking. But I guess a lot of it is inner change. Like I said, I grew up. But sometimes...you do want to return to that immature way of thinking. Not just high school. Way before that. like, elementary school, when we were just kids, and everything was so simple.
Anyway. Just a thought. I miss my friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
