Some people happen to love hot weather, and you know what? I just don't get it. I can never NOT sweat in the summer time. And I sweat everywhere: in my head (bye, bye $50 hairstyle), under my boobitas, in the crook of my arm, behind the knees, in between my toes, above my lip, behind my ears...It never fucking ends.
Not to mention that everything, EVERYTHING smells bad when it's hot. We know why this is, right? Because PEOPLE STINK WHEN THEY SWEAT. So you can't even take a walk into an air-conditioned building without getting hit with random funky B.O. Anyone who's been flailing about outside will have crop-dusted their sweat stank ALL OVER various hallways, offices, restrooms and restaurants. Let's not forget how horrifying it is to get stuck in a funkified elevator...especially when the offender is in there with you. Dammit.
I believe I may have mentioned this before, but I am not a fan of the sun. Sure, it looks pretty illuminating flowers and stuff; and it makes food grow, blah blah blah, but it hurts. It hurts me anyway. In fact, if it's not somewhere around 30 degrees or less outside I have quite a violent reaction to being placed in the sun: I BURST INTO FLAMES. Then I'm forced to drive/walk while wishing I weren't on fire. If only sweat could put out the flames of my discontent, I'd be so much happier so much of the time.
Then there's THE BITCH FACTOR. This is the effect that takes place when I am exposed to summer heat and/or sun for longer than five minutes. I TURN INTO A SUPERNATURAL BEING OF INCOMPREHENSIBLE AND UNDENIABLE EVIL. You (meaning my poor boyfriend) can tell when TBF has taken hold whenever I begin to yell random obscenities at those I believe to be slowing my progress toward cool-down known as SITTING-ON-MY-ASS-IN-A-DARK-AIR-CONDITIONED-ROOM-WITH-ALL-MY-CLOTHES-OFF. These people will usually be those of the should NOT be DRIVING variety: old people, slow people, young people, middle-aged people, people with children, people with animals, people who enjoy the summer and drive like there is nowhere to be, and my personal love to hate - people who do not know where they're going. I often want to ram their cars just to teach them a lesson about driving fast like the Good Lord intended. Pedestrians also get to me during this sensitive time of year, and I can freely admit here under the cloak of anonymity that I usually want to run them over. I have never taken either of these actions mostly because I'm almost always carrying a passenger (also known as my poor boyfriend). All slowbies in my path should now bow down and thank the gods for my passenger.
Sweating isn't just an irritant for my hair. You ever tried to look cool and cutely dressed on a hot, humid day? It lasts for all of 10 minutes during the summer. I don't care how good I look when I leave home, when I get to my destination I will be soaked through in many unfortunate places. And that's WITH the cool breeze of freon in my car. I still have to walk to the car and to my arrival place, you understand.
Speaking of hair, you may be wondering why I still get $50 hairdo's when I have such summer issues. Well, friends, it's called A RELAXER, and if you start getting one you have to keep getting one every 6-8 weeks or see all your hair fall out. Or cut your hair. Or deal with having 1/3 Afro and 1/3 faux sleekness. None of those options is readily appealing to me, so I deal with the 'do.
I'm dealing with another heat related conundrum right now. MY OFFICE IS FUCKING COLD. Not just cold, really. There's a wind in here and it can't be warmer than 40 degrees. I am totally for air conditioning, obviously, but this makes no sense. Extreme heat to extreme cold. You know what this leads to? Sniffles. IN THE FUCKING MIDDLE OF SUMMER. I've been sneezy, drippy, snorty and stuffy for about a month now. I have a fit before bed and for about an hour after I wake up. Does anyone understand how difficult it is to answer phones while sneezing? Have any of you ever clogged up the receiver with snot before?
Not pretty. Shit.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
It's Only Tuesday...
And I'm already exhausted. Ok, so that has a lot to do with the fact that I went to bed at 2:30 this morning and then woke up at 7:51 and barely had time to make myself presentable or come alive totally before running out the door to try getting to work by 8:30, which I did by the way. But nonetheless, isn't the week dragging on?
In other news, I'm completely not pregnant. I have never been more happy to see my period, and of course it took it's sweet time coming. I had to wait three days after removing my ring to see it. I even bought a pregnancy test just in case I didn't start. I was going to return it, but figured we might as well keep it around. So now, since I see that my double birth control method works, the boy and I have had condomless sex twice this week. Including 1 am this morning. Hence the severe sleepiness.
Thanks for that massage, boy.
Well, I've been making progress on the resume/get work front. I've got my cv all updated and sent out several requests to write for websites last week. Only one has gotten in touch so far to let me know that my story idea wasn't for them. Fuckers...I mean, that's ok. They know what they're doing, maybe I'll just write my little gossip fiction piece for my blog. That way only the special people will read it.
My biggest stumbling block is the whole cover letter thing. I remember when I first graduated and was looking for work. I wrote the most common, boring cover letters possible. I really want this thing to catch people's eye; be conversational but still professional. I like what I came up with so far but my boy thinks it's not spiffy enough. He is also looking for work now; he got laid off last Friday. Poor boy. He's not worried though, so I'm confident he'll find something soon.
Adding to my drowsiness this morning: sniffles and major congestion. What I really want right now is to take a nap and stop talking to people. But they keep calling and making me answer the damn phone.
Heifers.
In other news, I'm completely not pregnant. I have never been more happy to see my period, and of course it took it's sweet time coming. I had to wait three days after removing my ring to see it. I even bought a pregnancy test just in case I didn't start. I was going to return it, but figured we might as well keep it around. So now, since I see that my double birth control method works, the boy and I have had condomless sex twice this week. Including 1 am this morning. Hence the severe sleepiness.
Thanks for that massage, boy.
Well, I've been making progress on the resume/get work front. I've got my cv all updated and sent out several requests to write for websites last week. Only one has gotten in touch so far to let me know that my story idea wasn't for them. Fuckers...I mean, that's ok. They know what they're doing, maybe I'll just write my little gossip fiction piece for my blog. That way only the special people will read it.
My biggest stumbling block is the whole cover letter thing. I remember when I first graduated and was looking for work. I wrote the most common, boring cover letters possible. I really want this thing to catch people's eye; be conversational but still professional. I like what I came up with so far but my boy thinks it's not spiffy enough. He is also looking for work now; he got laid off last Friday. Poor boy. He's not worried though, so I'm confident he'll find something soon.
Adding to my drowsiness this morning: sniffles and major congestion. What I really want right now is to take a nap and stop talking to people. But they keep calling and making me answer the damn phone.
Heifers.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
I Wish I May, I Wish I Might
Hello internet! You look smashing today, dahling! Ok, you can see right through the bullshit, can't you? Look, I feel I need to connect with you a bit more. Seriously now, I feel like you know so much about me while you are still so much of a mystery. I'm not knocking the allure of elusiveness, but can't you give me a little more?
Let's make it easy. Answer a simple question for me and I'll post the most interesting/heartfelt/honest sounding replies here in the next week. Ready? Question: Whether it be personally or globally, what do you wish for?
I'll start. It's only fair.
1. Courage
2. A budget I can stick to
3. A healthy living plan I can stick to
4. Justice
5. The ability to style my hair with aplomb
6. A sure-fire way to rid myself of stretch marks
7. Wisdom
8. Orgasams for everyone!
9. Hope
10. No spring and early summer dry spells at the movies where everything that comes out is C.R.A.P!
See how easy that was?
Let's make it easy. Answer a simple question for me and I'll post the most interesting/heartfelt/honest sounding replies here in the next week. Ready? Question: Whether it be personally or globally, what do you wish for?
I'll start. It's only fair.
1. Courage
2. A budget I can stick to
3. A healthy living plan I can stick to
4. Justice
5. The ability to style my hair with aplomb
6. A sure-fire way to rid myself of stretch marks
7. Wisdom
8. Orgasams for everyone!
9. Hope
10. No spring and early summer dry spells at the movies where everything that comes out is C.R.A.P!
See how easy that was?
Friday, June 30, 2006
Busted
Last week, in the midst of trying to come down off all kinds of vacation tiredness, I got a call at work from my landlady. As I spent the previous night at my boy's place, my toilet exploded. Flooding my bathroom and soaking the roof of the woman who lives below me.
This, of course, led to my landlady going into my apartment.
That led to her finding out about Mr. Cat and his belongings.
Which led to her sounding all disappointed because I hadn't paid the $250 pet deposit yet.
My boy and I had an agreement: he would hang on to that cash until we absolutely had to pay it. Since I adopted little Tux under my name and address so my boy could have him (after finding out his apartment had a $350 deposit on top of monthly pet fees). But now, well, my boy blew most of that in Vegas. I was not happy to hear this, especially since WE ONLY GAMBLED $3! Do you understand what this means internet? He spent our kitty money on food. Food. FOOD.
I was going to give the cat to the boyfriend full time, and make him pay the $95 carpet cleaning fee. But then I decided I didn't want our kitty buddy to NEVER be able to come back to my place. So, the boy will pay $100 and I'll pay $150. This will be the first time since we dove into this cat thing that I've spent any money on the furry little beast. And I assure you, unless the cat's life is hanging by a thread, it will be the last.
This, of course, led to my landlady going into my apartment.
That led to her finding out about Mr. Cat and his belongings.
Which led to her sounding all disappointed because I hadn't paid the $250 pet deposit yet.
My boy and I had an agreement: he would hang on to that cash until we absolutely had to pay it. Since I adopted little Tux under my name and address so my boy could have him (after finding out his apartment had a $350 deposit on top of monthly pet fees). But now, well, my boy blew most of that in Vegas. I was not happy to hear this, especially since WE ONLY GAMBLED $3! Do you understand what this means internet? He spent our kitty money on food. Food. FOOD.
I was going to give the cat to the boyfriend full time, and make him pay the $95 carpet cleaning fee. But then I decided I didn't want our kitty buddy to NEVER be able to come back to my place. So, the boy will pay $100 and I'll pay $150. This will be the first time since we dove into this cat thing that I've spent any money on the furry little beast. And I assure you, unless the cat's life is hanging by a thread, it will be the last.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Alias: Fear
There are lots of things that freak me out. Clowns, large animals, small yappy animals, birds, things with wings, change, flying, spiders, public speaking, dating, the old people smell. I've managed to deal with most of these things by attacking them head on. Learning to love a cat, killing spiders, flying anyway, staying away from the elderly. Now though, I've come to think that something else scares me so much I may not be able to get over it and live normally.
I'm afraid of getting pregnant.
This, in turn, has made me afraid of sex.
That's it. I've put it out for the universe and internet and all to see. I AM AFRAID OF SEX.
Don't misunderstand, I have sex. But best believe it freaks me out a bit each time. I'm in a loving, monogamous relationship and I'm so afraid of getting pregnant that I've only been able to have condom-free (but birth control & spermicide aided) sex twice since we found out my boy is totally disease free. I feel bad about it. I want to be a wanton sex goddess around my boy. But I can't do it.
In Vegas I got teary over it. It was our second full day and I was totally exhausted and couldn't think of why, since we hadn't gotten up early, stayed up late or done all that much that day. Back in the hotel I lied down and my boy tried to cheer my obviously sour mood. Tears filled my closed eyes. I didn't want him to see me crying. Then I said it. "I'm afraid I'm so tired because we had sex without a condom and now I'm pregnant." Mind you, that was three days prior. Does anyone even get signs of pregnancy that early? Anyway, he worked to comfort me and reassure me that, even if that was the case, he'd be there. Because...we're a WE. A UNIT. Together forever, Amen. The boy even offered to return to glove love until I felt comfortable.
Then I decided to make myself feel better by having sex. Without a condom (!!!). And so I've spent the past week and a half praying to God that I get my period as planned this weekend.
Ladies of the internet, not even when I was in 6th grade and all the other girls had their monthlies did I wish for mine. Talk about a sea change.
I'm afraid of getting pregnant.
This, in turn, has made me afraid of sex.
That's it. I've put it out for the universe and internet and all to see. I AM AFRAID OF SEX.
Don't misunderstand, I have sex. But best believe it freaks me out a bit each time. I'm in a loving, monogamous relationship and I'm so afraid of getting pregnant that I've only been able to have condom-free (but birth control & spermicide aided) sex twice since we found out my boy is totally disease free. I feel bad about it. I want to be a wanton sex goddess around my boy. But I can't do it.
In Vegas I got teary over it. It was our second full day and I was totally exhausted and couldn't think of why, since we hadn't gotten up early, stayed up late or done all that much that day. Back in the hotel I lied down and my boy tried to cheer my obviously sour mood. Tears filled my closed eyes. I didn't want him to see me crying. Then I said it. "I'm afraid I'm so tired because we had sex without a condom and now I'm pregnant." Mind you, that was three days prior. Does anyone even get signs of pregnancy that early? Anyway, he worked to comfort me and reassure me that, even if that was the case, he'd be there. Because...we're a WE. A UNIT. Together forever, Amen. The boy even offered to return to glove love until I felt comfortable.
Then I decided to make myself feel better by having sex. Without a condom (!!!). And so I've spent the past week and a half praying to God that I get my period as planned this weekend.
Ladies of the internet, not even when I was in 6th grade and all the other girls had their monthlies did I wish for mine. Talk about a sea change.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
So This Is What He Does In His Spare Time!?
Last Thursday was interesting. I didn't realize how interesting, though, until Sunday.
We had just, just returned from his parents house. We celebrated his mom's birthday and it was getting close to our aspired bed time of midnight. Almost as soon as we walk in, he starts a conversation he probably wishes he hadn't:
"So, you wanna see my new porn?"
"We just saw your family and this is what you feel the need to do?"
"Well, you looked and some with me before. I thought that was cool, you know? And I just downloaded this new stuff on Thursday and thought you might want to see it."
"Thursday? So while I thought you were fixing your car and waiting for you to come to my place that's what you were really doing?"
"No, well...some of the time. Yeah. I mean I really did have to fix my car, but..."
"So, I was sitting at home, putting pictures of OUR vacation in Vegas online. Hoping you could fix your damn car so I could see you and maybe EAT DINNER FINALLY before excruciatingly late and you were...JACKING OFF?!"
I was kidding, but there was a long pause here, internet. His eyes shifted quickly back and forth, beads of sweat formed on his brow, his lips parted and he covered them with his hands. He looked, suddenly, like a naughty 12-year-old.
"Oh my God! You didn't just pick up some porn while you were waiting for your air filter to dry. YOU REALLY WERE JACKING OFF!"
"Wait! No! I mean...Not the whole time!"
"I cannot believe this is what you do while I wait for you to come over. This is why we hardly have sex!"
"Hey now, wait a minute! I never come home with that in mind. It just happens. When you're not here...or taking a nap."
Ok, now he's making jokes. I have to admit that it is funny in an odd sort of way. I'm not angry, even. Just...mystified, confused, befuddled. And maybe wishing he weren't so damn honest all the time about everything always.
"I can't believe you jacked off on Thursday."
"Honey, one thing just led to another...I love youuuuuuu."
"You jacked off on Thursday and then came to see me. After hours of waiting. I'm not mad, I just don't get it."
"Honey, baby..."
He came in close, still looking guilty, to give me a hug. I had to repeat "you jacked off on Thursday" over and over again to make it not seem so weird. I expect him to look at nudie pics and pull the pork, internet. I really do. He's a man and they cannot keep their hands off of themselves. But, knowing he does that and then comes to me? Somehow really not right. Now, unless he's in front of me, I am always going to think he's choking his chicken. I can picture him calling me on his way toward climax already: "I'm...Gonna...BE...LATE!"
"Show me that porn."
"Iiiiiiiiiiii, don't think so. You obviously don't like this, so..."
"SHOW ME THAT DAMN PORN, BOY!!!"
Yeah. I think this is the last I'll hear of this particular type of tale.
We had just, just returned from his parents house. We celebrated his mom's birthday and it was getting close to our aspired bed time of midnight. Almost as soon as we walk in, he starts a conversation he probably wishes he hadn't:
"So, you wanna see my new porn?"
"We just saw your family and this is what you feel the need to do?"
"Well, you looked and some with me before. I thought that was cool, you know? And I just downloaded this new stuff on Thursday and thought you might want to see it."
"Thursday? So while I thought you were fixing your car and waiting for you to come to my place that's what you were really doing?"
"No, well...some of the time. Yeah. I mean I really did have to fix my car, but..."
"So, I was sitting at home, putting pictures of OUR vacation in Vegas online. Hoping you could fix your damn car so I could see you and maybe EAT DINNER FINALLY before excruciatingly late and you were...JACKING OFF?!"
I was kidding, but there was a long pause here, internet. His eyes shifted quickly back and forth, beads of sweat formed on his brow, his lips parted and he covered them with his hands. He looked, suddenly, like a naughty 12-year-old.
"Oh my God! You didn't just pick up some porn while you were waiting for your air filter to dry. YOU REALLY WERE JACKING OFF!"
"Wait! No! I mean...Not the whole time!"
"I cannot believe this is what you do while I wait for you to come over. This is why we hardly have sex!"
"Hey now, wait a minute! I never come home with that in mind. It just happens. When you're not here...or taking a nap."
Ok, now he's making jokes. I have to admit that it is funny in an odd sort of way. I'm not angry, even. Just...mystified, confused, befuddled. And maybe wishing he weren't so damn honest all the time about everything always.
"I can't believe you jacked off on Thursday."
"Honey, one thing just led to another...I love youuuuuuu."
"You jacked off on Thursday and then came to see me. After hours of waiting. I'm not mad, I just don't get it."
"Honey, baby..."
He came in close, still looking guilty, to give me a hug. I had to repeat "you jacked off on Thursday" over and over again to make it not seem so weird. I expect him to look at nudie pics and pull the pork, internet. I really do. He's a man and they cannot keep their hands off of themselves. But, knowing he does that and then comes to me? Somehow really not right. Now, unless he's in front of me, I am always going to think he's choking his chicken. I can picture him calling me on his way toward climax already: "I'm...Gonna...BE...LATE!"
"Show me that porn."
"Iiiiiiiiiiii, don't think so. You obviously don't like this, so..."
"SHOW ME THAT DAMN PORN, BOY!!!"
Yeah. I think this is the last I'll hear of this particular type of tale.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Dear Las Vegas,
Gee, My boy and I sure had fun in your city last week. Thanks ever so for being the crazy night owl that you are and hosting these Missourians right. But, I have some questions:
Why are your streets so wide? I mean, yea for exercise, but the walk from the front of the Gold Coast to the front of the Palms was about two miles. And don't ask me how I know, LV, I clocked it.
Why do your wide streets not allow for less traffic congestion? We rented a car for Thursday through Saturday LV, and your traffic was hideous. I did all the driving and wanted to get out of the car and kill random motorists for 3 days straight. I scared my boy several times by cursing, screaming and attempting a u-turn (in full traffic with a truck coming at us) that made him pee a little.
Why do all your non-casino buildings have ONE entrance? This, LV, is the dumbest thing ever. I missed our turn for the In-N-Out Burger on Tropicana and had to go ALLLLLLLLLLLLL the way around the strip to get back to said fast food joint. This sort of idiocy happened every time I wasn't prepared for our exit to come up. I suppose you think hapless visitors will get tired of driving around in circles and just give up and go into the nearest casino and blow all their cash on booze and baccarat. No. What actually happens is that we want to murder everyone we see to clear a path for ourselves. I am honestly surprised that you don't have more road rage related deaths from this LV.
What's with making us walk a country mile to get to the monorail? I love that you have such an easy and basically cheap way to get around the strip, but how about being honest with those signs that say the damn shit is coming up. We walked into a Bally's door that said it was the MONORAIL ENTRANCE. We took a people mover, then another one, then went down an escalator, then walked ALLLLLLLLL the way across the casino, following monorail signs the whole time. Then the signs stopped and we gave up and walked to Paris since it was right there and we could actually see the damn thing. I asked an info desk lady how to get to the almighty monorail and found out we needed to go DOWNSTAIRS in Bally's near the pool. We headed back across the Bally's casino, downstairs, found a ticket machine and thought we were home free, but then had to go ALLLLLL the way across the lower level (Dammit! My feet hurt, fuckers!!), out the monorail doors, across the monorail lot, up the stairs to the station. SHIT LV! That's just not even close to being necessary. Really. No, seriously. Fuckwads.
Hey Gold Coast, what makes you think a dinner buffet is worth $12.95? I'm really not trying to be picky here, GC, but some of your buffets are really cheap (breakfast: $6.95) while others are OMGWTF!!! I know there was an asswad load of food on that buffet, but $13 is a bit much when there is no steak or lobster or actual pig on a spit in front of us. And let's be real, don't you get most of your money from gamblers and drinkers and bowlers in your SEVENTY LANE ALLEY? Knock off a couple of bucks, already, so that next time I won't have to stuff my purse with cookies and apples to make us feel we got our money's worth.
Speaking of getting what we paid for; how do you not offer free wireless access GC? You're supposed to be a classy 3-star establishment, but want us to pay $11 for wireless. Not for the duration of our stay, but for TWENTY FOUR HOURS?!?! Thank God we found someone with an unsecured wireless connection most of the time and never used your gangsta internet service. This is why we took towels, toiletries and your very nice room glasses. We would have taken more but couldn't fit it in the suitcases.
Why do you not let people know where that "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign is, LV? Are you ashamed of it being your most recognizable landmark that isn't a casino? I didn't find it until Friday afternoon and wasn't ready with my camera. I missed it and didn't have time to go back to it before we left on Saturday. For real, though. Put that bastard's address in your brochures. Shit. Do I have to think of EVERYTHING for you, LV?
What's going on with not being able to get pizza delivered to the strip? LV? GET REAL. Not everyone wants to eat your hellaciously priced dinner buffets or hit the local Mickey D's. All my boy and I wanted was a pizza on a Friday night. We were tired and had been cranky off and on (heat) since Sunday. We had to call about 8 fucking places before finally asking Mr. Bell Desk what pizza joint would bring our worn-out asses some food. Now, I don't know where the glitch is, nor do I care. Next time I hit Vegas I want to call no more than two restaurants to find one to cater to my every whim. You got that LV? DO NOT CONTINUE TO PISS OFF A CHEAP AND HUNGRY BLACK WOMAN.
I keep hearing that prostitution is illegal in LV proper, so why all the ho ads and trading cards littering the streets? I'm no prude, whatever consenting adults want to do with their own, personal goof juice is up to them. But let's not pretend that those ads of naked women piled on top of each other are for actual "librarians", "secretaries" or "adult care companions". A ho, is a ho, is a ho, ho, whore LV.
By the way, can you really get a hot and bothered busty co-ed to my room in 10 minutes? Cause that's quicker than a pizza!
Why are your streets so wide? I mean, yea for exercise, but the walk from the front of the Gold Coast to the front of the Palms was about two miles. And don't ask me how I know, LV, I clocked it.
Why do your wide streets not allow for less traffic congestion? We rented a car for Thursday through Saturday LV, and your traffic was hideous. I did all the driving and wanted to get out of the car and kill random motorists for 3 days straight. I scared my boy several times by cursing, screaming and attempting a u-turn (in full traffic with a truck coming at us) that made him pee a little.
Why do all your non-casino buildings have ONE entrance? This, LV, is the dumbest thing ever. I missed our turn for the In-N-Out Burger on Tropicana and had to go ALLLLLLLLLLLLL the way around the strip to get back to said fast food joint. This sort of idiocy happened every time I wasn't prepared for our exit to come up. I suppose you think hapless visitors will get tired of driving around in circles and just give up and go into the nearest casino and blow all their cash on booze and baccarat. No. What actually happens is that we want to murder everyone we see to clear a path for ourselves. I am honestly surprised that you don't have more road rage related deaths from this LV.
What's with making us walk a country mile to get to the monorail? I love that you have such an easy and basically cheap way to get around the strip, but how about being honest with those signs that say the damn shit is coming up. We walked into a Bally's door that said it was the MONORAIL ENTRANCE. We took a people mover, then another one, then went down an escalator, then walked ALLLLLLLLL the way across the casino, following monorail signs the whole time. Then the signs stopped and we gave up and walked to Paris since it was right there and we could actually see the damn thing. I asked an info desk lady how to get to the almighty monorail and found out we needed to go DOWNSTAIRS in Bally's near the pool. We headed back across the Bally's casino, downstairs, found a ticket machine and thought we were home free, but then had to go ALLLLLL the way across the lower level (Dammit! My feet hurt, fuckers!!), out the monorail doors, across the monorail lot, up the stairs to the station. SHIT LV! That's just not even close to being necessary. Really. No, seriously. Fuckwads.
Hey Gold Coast, what makes you think a dinner buffet is worth $12.95? I'm really not trying to be picky here, GC, but some of your buffets are really cheap (breakfast: $6.95) while others are OMGWTF!!! I know there was an asswad load of food on that buffet, but $13 is a bit much when there is no steak or lobster or actual pig on a spit in front of us. And let's be real, don't you get most of your money from gamblers and drinkers and bowlers in your SEVENTY LANE ALLEY? Knock off a couple of bucks, already, so that next time I won't have to stuff my purse with cookies and apples to make us feel we got our money's worth.
Speaking of getting what we paid for; how do you not offer free wireless access GC? You're supposed to be a classy 3-star establishment, but want us to pay $11 for wireless. Not for the duration of our stay, but for TWENTY FOUR HOURS?!?! Thank God we found someone with an unsecured wireless connection most of the time and never used your gangsta internet service. This is why we took towels, toiletries and your very nice room glasses. We would have taken more but couldn't fit it in the suitcases.
Why do you not let people know where that "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign is, LV? Are you ashamed of it being your most recognizable landmark that isn't a casino? I didn't find it until Friday afternoon and wasn't ready with my camera. I missed it and didn't have time to go back to it before we left on Saturday. For real, though. Put that bastard's address in your brochures. Shit. Do I have to think of EVERYTHING for you, LV?
What's going on with not being able to get pizza delivered to the strip? LV? GET REAL. Not everyone wants to eat your hellaciously priced dinner buffets or hit the local Mickey D's. All my boy and I wanted was a pizza on a Friday night. We were tired and had been cranky off and on (heat) since Sunday. We had to call about 8 fucking places before finally asking Mr. Bell Desk what pizza joint would bring our worn-out asses some food. Now, I don't know where the glitch is, nor do I care. Next time I hit Vegas I want to call no more than two restaurants to find one to cater to my every whim. You got that LV? DO NOT CONTINUE TO PISS OFF A CHEAP AND HUNGRY BLACK WOMAN.
I keep hearing that prostitution is illegal in LV proper, so why all the ho ads and trading cards littering the streets? I'm no prude, whatever consenting adults want to do with their own, personal goof juice is up to them. But let's not pretend that those ads of naked women piled on top of each other are for actual "librarians", "secretaries" or "adult care companions". A ho, is a ho, is a ho, ho, whore LV.
By the way, can you really get a hot and bothered busty co-ed to my room in 10 minutes? Cause that's quicker than a pizza!
Friday, June 09, 2006
Well, Yeah
Internet, you'd be so proud of me. I can totally touch the kitty cat without running to immediately wash up afterwards. Even though the Tux admittedly cleans himself with his own saliva he at least does it often. I used to pet him quickly then head to the bathroom and scrub up like I was preparing for surgery. Well, no more!
I'm like, all used to his PRESENCE and stuff. Mostly. Sometimes I still get freaked by our little Tuxy. Like when I'm minding my own business alone and then I turn around and suddenly there's a cat all in my kool-aid like, "What's happenin mama, yo?" and usually I respond like "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA!!" all screaming and shit, cause that's how I do.
Sometimes Mr. Fluffy Face gets bitey and scratchy and one time, even though no one saw, he totally embarassed me. I was sleeping, right? I needed to turn over but Mr. Cat was right under my butt, so I moved him. He stood there for a bit while I sat arranging covers. Then our kitty buddy walked behind me, stood and put both paws on my right shoulder, then took the outside paw, reached around...AND SLAPPED ME. IN. THE. FACE. Never again will I deign to wake and move the kitty cat. NEVER AGAIN.
I'm like, all used to his PRESENCE and stuff. Mostly. Sometimes I still get freaked by our little Tuxy. Like when I'm minding my own business alone and then I turn around and suddenly there's a cat all in my kool-aid like, "What's happenin mama, yo?" and usually I respond like "AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA!!" all screaming and shit, cause that's how I do.
Sometimes Mr. Fluffy Face gets bitey and scratchy and one time, even though no one saw, he totally embarassed me. I was sleeping, right? I needed to turn over but Mr. Cat was right under my butt, so I moved him. He stood there for a bit while I sat arranging covers. Then our kitty buddy walked behind me, stood and put both paws on my right shoulder, then took the outside paw, reached around...AND SLAPPED ME. IN. THE. FACE. Never again will I deign to wake and move the kitty cat. NEVER AGAIN.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Ah Ha
So the boy and I went to Tarjay last week. He agreed to buy me a swimming suit since the whole citygirl-should-get-in-a-pool-this-summer thing is his idea. You will simply never guess what happened. We went in, looked around the scant swimming section, I picked 3 full piece suits and 3 separates. I went into the dressing room and found my suit on the third try-on.
This, internet, was amazing.
I didn't cry. I did not get depressed. I didn't even feel like hiding under a blanket of cookies and cheese when I saw my thighs in all their globby glory. I found a black one-piece that hides my second stomach and covers my back fat. AND...IT DOES NOT LOOK AT ALL MATRONLY. When not half covered by water I will wrap a black shawl (circa my 1993 prom, heh) around my lower half beauty issues.
This, internet, may actually work.
Most shocking about the trip was that while I found a suit in about 1/2 an hour, my boy took two hours to find 3 pairs of pants and 1 pair of swim trunks. As he was debating, I went into the fitting room FOUR separate times with SIX totally different items each time. Amazing.
I love the Tarjay. I also bought a dress I'd eyed about two months ago on sale for $10 and in a size smaller than I usually wear (yay!), and one of those new-fangled '80s-like bubble skirts. Now, let me say that I have always hated a bubble skirt. If you were blessed (cursed) with full hips/butt/thighs you DO NOT need anything adding volume to that area. But, this skirt isn't puffy at all. It has a very gentle circle skirt type of flouncery that I found absolutely adorable on me. It's a weird putty color, but it was only $11 so who gives a shit. I'll call it neutral and wear it with everything anyway.
This, internet, was amazing.
I didn't cry. I did not get depressed. I didn't even feel like hiding under a blanket of cookies and cheese when I saw my thighs in all their globby glory. I found a black one-piece that hides my second stomach and covers my back fat. AND...IT DOES NOT LOOK AT ALL MATRONLY. When not half covered by water I will wrap a black shawl (circa my 1993 prom, heh) around my lower half beauty issues.
This, internet, may actually work.
Most shocking about the trip was that while I found a suit in about 1/2 an hour, my boy took two hours to find 3 pairs of pants and 1 pair of swim trunks. As he was debating, I went into the fitting room FOUR separate times with SIX totally different items each time. Amazing.
I love the Tarjay. I also bought a dress I'd eyed about two months ago on sale for $10 and in a size smaller than I usually wear (yay!), and one of those new-fangled '80s-like bubble skirts. Now, let me say that I have always hated a bubble skirt. If you were blessed (cursed) with full hips/butt/thighs you DO NOT need anything adding volume to that area. But, this skirt isn't puffy at all. It has a very gentle circle skirt type of flouncery that I found absolutely adorable on me. It's a weird putty color, but it was only $11 so who gives a shit. I'll call it neutral and wear it with everything anyway.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Catch A Feller By His Toe
The boy and I settled into secure oneness long ago. Way back in December we made a pact and have stuck to it, going so far as to see each other mostly everyday and sleep together mostly every night. We're a we. A couple. A monogamous romantic unit. And a lot alike, but different enough to make it all interesting/confusing/worthwhile.
We first had sex in January. Does that seem like a long time to wait after 6 weeks of dating? Well, there were extenuating circumstances. I needed to fit myself with birth control, buy my first ever box of condoms and a nifty third barrier to babydom. He...ah, I remember it well. On our first date, back at my place, fooling around, he gave me the first sign that he was truly a good guy. Revealing very carefully the details of an accidental condom slip, my boy said (as I laid on top of him in my bed) that he needed one more test to be totally cleared of HIV. Just hearing those three letters made my heart stop, drop and roll into my stomach. I didn't show it, though. He was tall and cute and funny and smart and touching me and being honest with me. He had a safety ring imprinted on the back of his wallet, but wanted to know if I took the pill. I said no, so that was it. We knew we weren't having sex that night. No pressure of any kind. That was my second sign.
Last Wednesday, he found out he's completely clean. He'd like us to take more chances now. No condoms, just roll over in the middle of the night and fuck like mad then go back to sleep. I'm nervous. I don't want babies. He claims he doesn't either, but I can tell he really does. I've told him this and suppose I'll have to tell him again.
He wants my mouth to take him in. I don't know. I'm not as averse to the idea as I used to be. I love all of him. Penis, manhood, cock, johnson, hooha, meat, whatchamacallit included. Do I want him inside me there? This is so performance oriented that it's more intimidating than sex. Which I already have adequacy issues with. Do I do enough? Honey, he answers, you're wonderful. You do just what you need to. Which is what, really? Lay there? I'm glad it appears to be enough for him, but I don't want anybody getting bored.
Let's not forget reciprocation. I have a major issue that I, we, try not to dwell on in bed or elsewhere. I cannot come. The one time I was absolutely close to heaven I was alone and aided with a battery powered device, a month or so before we'd even met. I think I need more; more kissing, touching, hugging, talking, rubbing, sucking, whatever. I need more time. I need his hands to wander south...no, farther south. He doesn't like his hands in there, he told me so. However, he's willing to let his lips venture forth. Yes, I'd feel bad if he gave to me and all I did was take from him.
Adventure. That's what we need. I'll read the book I bought, we'll try something new. Maybe, if we have any more sexual luck, some hotel seduction in Vegas in one week will help.
We first had sex in January. Does that seem like a long time to wait after 6 weeks of dating? Well, there were extenuating circumstances. I needed to fit myself with birth control, buy my first ever box of condoms and a nifty third barrier to babydom. He...ah, I remember it well. On our first date, back at my place, fooling around, he gave me the first sign that he was truly a good guy. Revealing very carefully the details of an accidental condom slip, my boy said (as I laid on top of him in my bed) that he needed one more test to be totally cleared of HIV. Just hearing those three letters made my heart stop, drop and roll into my stomach. I didn't show it, though. He was tall and cute and funny and smart and touching me and being honest with me. He had a safety ring imprinted on the back of his wallet, but wanted to know if I took the pill. I said no, so that was it. We knew we weren't having sex that night. No pressure of any kind. That was my second sign.
Last Wednesday, he found out he's completely clean. He'd like us to take more chances now. No condoms, just roll over in the middle of the night and fuck like mad then go back to sleep. I'm nervous. I don't want babies. He claims he doesn't either, but I can tell he really does. I've told him this and suppose I'll have to tell him again.
He wants my mouth to take him in. I don't know. I'm not as averse to the idea as I used to be. I love all of him. Penis, manhood, cock, johnson, hooha, meat, whatchamacallit included. Do I want him inside me there? This is so performance oriented that it's more intimidating than sex. Which I already have adequacy issues with. Do I do enough? Honey, he answers, you're wonderful. You do just what you need to. Which is what, really? Lay there? I'm glad it appears to be enough for him, but I don't want anybody getting bored.
Let's not forget reciprocation. I have a major issue that I, we, try not to dwell on in bed or elsewhere. I cannot come. The one time I was absolutely close to heaven I was alone and aided with a battery powered device, a month or so before we'd even met. I think I need more; more kissing, touching, hugging, talking, rubbing, sucking, whatever. I need more time. I need his hands to wander south...no, farther south. He doesn't like his hands in there, he told me so. However, he's willing to let his lips venture forth. Yes, I'd feel bad if he gave to me and all I did was take from him.
Adventure. That's what we need. I'll read the book I bought, we'll try something new. Maybe, if we have any more sexual luck, some hotel seduction in Vegas in one week will help.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Promises
As of this Sunday it will be one week until I leave for Vegas. My favorite jeans, the only ones that have ever fit right, are tight and have been for two weeks. Since the last time I washed them. Dammit. I know I can't lose much weight in that time but I'm using it to springboard a new beginning...Again. Exercise for a 1/2 hour a day everyday, eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm full. That's it. Why am I letting this be so hard? Just do three things differently, girl. And STOP thinking that it's too late. That you'll never get back on track. STOP and DO THE WORK YOU NEED TO.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Bombshell
So, our Vegaspalooza is booked. I'm busy trying to decide what outfits to take, which cheap jewelry to pack and how to fit it all in one checked bag. Me and the boy will be staying at the Gold Coast for 7 days and it's a THREE STAR HOTEL. Neither of us has laid our heads in such vacation luxury before. Even better, it's across the street from the Palms which is where we'll be spending most of our time at CineVegas.
We were on our way to see his folks for the holiday; he's driving, I'm reading a trashy mag. He felt the need to interrupt.
"You know, both of our pools should be open now."
"Um, hmmm."
"I really think you should at least consider swimming this summer."
"Uh..."
"I'd love to see you in a swimming suit."
"You can see me naked. What difference does it make if you see me in a swimming suit or not?"
"I just think you're missing out, honey. I mean, I really want to go swimming this year, but it's no fun alone."
"Ok, well, I'll go to the pool with you. Maybe hang under an umbrella while you splash around."
"Oh sweetie...It's just not the same. Don't you want to cool off when it gets hot?"
"If I want to cool off I go inside where there's AC."
"Ghuuuuugggggghhhhhhh..."
"Seriously, I don't get it. And I'd basically be wandering around in my underwear."
"But it's fun. I bet if you went to one of those special swim shops they could help you pick a perfect suit, if you're worried about that. I've seen some with little skirts or cover things if you get kinda modest."
"Swim suits are expensive. Especially the kinds in those specialty shops. I don't know if I want to spend money on something I'll use a couple times a year."
"But if you get a good one it will last forever, Sugar Booms. I swear."
At this point the idea of me walking around in swim attire caused me to giggle furiously. He kept trying to convince me and I kept on laughing.
You have no idea, internet. I promised to give it a try but it's absolutely horrifying. During the summer when I was about 8 to 10 years old I took swimming lessons and went to community pools quite often. My mom was worried about my hair falling out, so I had to wear one of those God-awful thick, white plastic caps on my little brown head. That cap had to go OVER a heavy layer of, wait for it....SARAN WRAP. Oh yeah, did I mention that I was the MOST POPULAR CHUBBY GIRL AT THE YMCA? Blah.
Then, in preparation for my soon-to-be last year at the Y, I had to have a new suit. This duty was somehow entrusted to my father and the JC Penney catalog. Remember how I said I was chubby? I was so puffy that year that I couldn't fit any of the girl's suits. So what does my dimwitted daddy do? Instead of taking me somewhere to find something suitable? He buys a grown woman's swimming suit. That was red, white and blue. Also, internet? It had DD BRA CUPS IN IT. NOT. EVEN. JOKING. I was mortified with a capital MORT. This monstrosity was hideous off and hideouser on. But I had no choice, internet, I was trapped.
I went swimming in the evil, ugly suit. On what turned out to be my last day in a pool ever, I had class. My instructor was showing me the backstroke, standing behind me and gently holding me up. Back...stroke...back...stroke...back...wait. What's that? I looked behind me. I had a handful of that poor woman's right titty in my grasp. How? Fuck if I know! But there it was, and there I was. Combined with what I was wearing and what was on my head that was it. I have not been in a pool, or purposely near one, since.
If my boy agrees to buy, it is entirely possible that I'll end up owning my first swimming suit since 1985. MY ONE CONDITION: (listen very closely, boy) IF AT ANY POINT DURING THE SHOPPING PROCESS I FEEL LIKE CRYING, ALL BETS ARE OFF. NO SWIMMING. NO SUIT. END OF DEAL.
We were on our way to see his folks for the holiday; he's driving, I'm reading a trashy mag. He felt the need to interrupt.
"You know, both of our pools should be open now."
"Um, hmmm."
"I really think you should at least consider swimming this summer."
"Uh..."
"I'd love to see you in a swimming suit."
"You can see me naked. What difference does it make if you see me in a swimming suit or not?"
"I just think you're missing out, honey. I mean, I really want to go swimming this year, but it's no fun alone."
"Ok, well, I'll go to the pool with you. Maybe hang under an umbrella while you splash around."
"Oh sweetie...It's just not the same. Don't you want to cool off when it gets hot?"
"If I want to cool off I go inside where there's AC."
"Ghuuuuugggggghhhhhhh..."
"Seriously, I don't get it. And I'd basically be wandering around in my underwear."
"But it's fun. I bet if you went to one of those special swim shops they could help you pick a perfect suit, if you're worried about that. I've seen some with little skirts or cover things if you get kinda modest."
"Swim suits are expensive. Especially the kinds in those specialty shops. I don't know if I want to spend money on something I'll use a couple times a year."
"But if you get a good one it will last forever, Sugar Booms. I swear."
At this point the idea of me walking around in swim attire caused me to giggle furiously. He kept trying to convince me and I kept on laughing.
You have no idea, internet. I promised to give it a try but it's absolutely horrifying. During the summer when I was about 8 to 10 years old I took swimming lessons and went to community pools quite often. My mom was worried about my hair falling out, so I had to wear one of those God-awful thick, white plastic caps on my little brown head. That cap had to go OVER a heavy layer of, wait for it....SARAN WRAP. Oh yeah, did I mention that I was the MOST POPULAR CHUBBY GIRL AT THE YMCA? Blah.
Then, in preparation for my soon-to-be last year at the Y, I had to have a new suit. This duty was somehow entrusted to my father and the JC Penney catalog. Remember how I said I was chubby? I was so puffy that year that I couldn't fit any of the girl's suits. So what does my dimwitted daddy do? Instead of taking me somewhere to find something suitable? He buys a grown woman's swimming suit. That was red, white and blue. Also, internet? It had DD BRA CUPS IN IT. NOT. EVEN. JOKING. I was mortified with a capital MORT. This monstrosity was hideous off and hideouser on. But I had no choice, internet, I was trapped.
I went swimming in the evil, ugly suit. On what turned out to be my last day in a pool ever, I had class. My instructor was showing me the backstroke, standing behind me and gently holding me up. Back...stroke...back...stroke...back...wait. What's that? I looked behind me. I had a handful of that poor woman's right titty in my grasp. How? Fuck if I know! But there it was, and there I was. Combined with what I was wearing and what was on my head that was it. I have not been in a pool, or purposely near one, since.
If my boy agrees to buy, it is entirely possible that I'll end up owning my first swimming suit since 1985. MY ONE CONDITION: (listen very closely, boy) IF AT ANY POINT DURING THE SHOPPING PROCESS I FEEL LIKE CRYING, ALL BETS ARE OFF. NO SWIMMING. NO SUIT. END OF DEAL.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Experiments
The boy and I are trying something new. Earlier this year we talked about moving in together, but I thought it was too soon since we'd only been together 2 months. This new thing is my idea. We'll share one living space for two weeks; one week at his smallish studio and one at my mediumish 1 bedroom. I figure it's worth a try. If we get along without killing each other (pretty much assured-we alternate evenings now and spent a total of 30 hours trapped in a car together during our road trip to & from Austin) maybe we can start doing the weekly thing on a regular basis. It'll give us time to look around for a permanent move-in place next year. A house maybe? I have no money for a down payment but I'm seriously trying to save. I can't believe I'm ready for all this, but it feels right just thinking about it so I know I'm on the right track.
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I read a story the other day about how a guy lost 50 pounds by simply eating when he was hungry and stopping when he was full. Doesn't it sound like a trick? Or some kind of evil, simplistic joke? Of course I'm trying it. I started two days ago, and when I was too full for dessert - didn't eat it. Until 11pm. But it was only fruit with dip, which I thought was outrageously fatted and caloried but turns out not to be. Yay! That stuff could make tree bark edible.
-------------------------------------------
This is what I'm going to do: start telling people I'm a script consultant and writer. If they ask what I've worked on, I'll explain I'm fairly new to it but am working on my first two scripts and have just started my consulting business. I'll offer up the reception gig only if they ask about my day job. Fake it 'til you make it. I'm even gonna have cards made.
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Is anybody out there hot-natured like me? You know who you are. You get hot easily. You prefer winter and spring to summer. In fact, the thought that summer is coming makes you angry every year. And going outside during the heat of the day (not noon-1 pm as commonly stated, but an hour post-sunrise to an hour pre-sunset) for extended periods is not an option. You can constantly be found fanning or turning the pillow over and shifting in bed to find the cool spot. Well, I found this nifty little thing that I've been dreaming of for years-a Chillow. Oh my God! Why haven't we had one of these all along. I cannot wait for this purchase. I may even go crazy and line my entire side of the bed with Chillows. I'll never sleep hot again! I might be able to save on my summer cooling bill like this. The ways in which a self-cooling pillow can save a hot person's life are innumerable. FUCKIN' A Y'ALL!!!!!
--------------------------------------------
I could use a better vacuum. I've got one of those hand vacs that you can add attachments to and make into a regular cleaner. The problem is that I vacuum so infrequently that by the time I use it, the filter gets full on about 1/5 of one room. Then I'm constantly heading to the trash can to empty the damn thing out. I get more exercise this way, but, fuck-me-all-over is it ever irritating! Hey, I should ask the boy to bring it by when he does his week at my place.
-------------------------------------------
I read a story the other day about how a guy lost 50 pounds by simply eating when he was hungry and stopping when he was full. Doesn't it sound like a trick? Or some kind of evil, simplistic joke? Of course I'm trying it. I started two days ago, and when I was too full for dessert - didn't eat it. Until 11pm. But it was only fruit with dip, which I thought was outrageously fatted and caloried but turns out not to be. Yay! That stuff could make tree bark edible.
-------------------------------------------
This is what I'm going to do: start telling people I'm a script consultant and writer. If they ask what I've worked on, I'll explain I'm fairly new to it but am working on my first two scripts and have just started my consulting business. I'll offer up the reception gig only if they ask about my day job. Fake it 'til you make it. I'm even gonna have cards made.
--------------------------------------------
Is anybody out there hot-natured like me? You know who you are. You get hot easily. You prefer winter and spring to summer. In fact, the thought that summer is coming makes you angry every year. And going outside during the heat of the day (not noon-1 pm as commonly stated, but an hour post-sunrise to an hour pre-sunset) for extended periods is not an option. You can constantly be found fanning or turning the pillow over and shifting in bed to find the cool spot. Well, I found this nifty little thing that I've been dreaming of for years-a Chillow. Oh my God! Why haven't we had one of these all along. I cannot wait for this purchase. I may even go crazy and line my entire side of the bed with Chillows. I'll never sleep hot again! I might be able to save on my summer cooling bill like this. The ways in which a self-cooling pillow can save a hot person's life are innumerable. FUCKIN' A Y'ALL!!!!!
--------------------------------------------
I could use a better vacuum. I've got one of those hand vacs that you can add attachments to and make into a regular cleaner. The problem is that I vacuum so infrequently that by the time I use it, the filter gets full on about 1/5 of one room. Then I'm constantly heading to the trash can to empty the damn thing out. I get more exercise this way, but, fuck-me-all-over is it ever irritating! Hey, I should ask the boy to bring it by when he does his week at my place.
Monday, May 22, 2006
My White Boyfriend...
Had to climb a tree in a dark Taco Bell parking lot on Saturday night because he threw a frisbee into it. Why were we playing frisbee on a dark Saturday night? What a silly question.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
To Do
1 write cover letters to all companies in area I'd want to work at
2 study spanish again
3 flesh out next screenplay idea
4 balance checkbook
5 shred pile of junk mail
6 shred old bills
7 set up budget
8 set calendar reminders for bill payment
9 read lectures for new class
10 post 'about me' stuff on new class message board
11 make shopping list for walmart
12 research script consulting idea (amount to charge, what to offer...)
13 install new fonts
14 type cafepress slogans in appropriate fonts
15 set items for sell
16 pick shots for photo book idea
17 recycle old magazines and catalogs
18 work on current script
19 update savings plan
20 dust
21 vaccuum
22 look into easy meat recipes for mom/mony
23 sign up for mystery shopping
24 send color photo to casting agency by next Wednesday
25 vist mom w/goods from Austin
26 call mom tonight
27 talk to boy about free film festival tomorrow and Rib America next weekend
28 try scheduling times for art, writing, exercise again
29 buy omega 3 pills
30 get 1700mah battery for lg vx6100
31 figure out less embarrassing cover story for not going to Vegas than turning out to not have the money for it
32 paint toenails
33 write to Lorna, Andrea, Karimah
34 find June, SaBarbara, Emily
35 update notepad folders
2 study spanish again
3 flesh out next screenplay idea
4 balance checkbook
5 shred pile of junk mail
6 shred old bills
7 set up budget
8 set calendar reminders for bill payment
9 read lectures for new class
10 post 'about me' stuff on new class message board
11 make shopping list for walmart
12 research script consulting idea (amount to charge, what to offer...)
13 install new fonts
14 type cafepress slogans in appropriate fonts
15 set items for sell
16 pick shots for photo book idea
17 recycle old magazines and catalogs
18 work on current script
19 update savings plan
20 dust
21 vaccuum
22 look into easy meat recipes for mom/mony
23 sign up for mystery shopping
24 send color photo to casting agency by next Wednesday
25 vist mom w/goods from Austin
26 call mom tonight
27 talk to boy about free film festival tomorrow and Rib America next weekend
28 try scheduling times for art, writing, exercise again
29 buy omega 3 pills
30 get 1700mah battery for lg vx6100
31 figure out less embarrassing cover story for not going to Vegas than turning out to not have the money for it
32 paint toenails
33 write to Lorna, Andrea, Karimah
34 find June, SaBarbara, Emily
35 update notepad folders
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Scripting
I'm up to page 65 in my screenplay. I can really see the end in sight, people! This is exciting, but I'm starting to think I should be actively fleshing out other ideas so I can be ready to work on my next project. As much as I dislike my 9 to 5, it really kicks ass to be able to work on my script during the day. Not that they know this. They see typing and intense screen stares, and assume I'm doing their bidding. Mwaaaahhhhahahahahahaha!
I haven't written for a week now. I felt I deserved a break, which is just ridiculous. Now I can't think of what to do next, and I'm in the middle of a scene! Why didn't I type some quick notes before stopping suddenly? What the Hell is wrong with me? You know that maddening feeling when something is on the tip of your tongue? That's what the rest of this scene is doing to me. I stare at the last line...Can't remember. I reread the scene...Can't remember. Damn! How long am I going to have to stare at this?
Another problem arose the last time I actively worked on my screenplay. The writing was flowing well, and the ideas felt good, but I remember feeling vaguely...bored. With the whole process. How bad is this news? Does it mean that the stuff I think is so clever is actually drool/snore inducing? I'm considering having some old instructors look at it to see what they think, since I'm half-way through it. Even though the end is staring me in the face, I still kinda feel like it will never really be DONE done. Do you know what I mean? So complete that, at the very least, myself and those I trust will consider it a finished/polished work.
I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up. Update the resume, put together clips of my script reviews from past classes, post books to this site for sell, figure out my script service business, buy a ticket to Las Vegas for next month, scan polaroids and old photos and post to my photo site, figure out my shop thing (finally), look for more interesting work...The list just never ends.
Speaking of never ending, I ate lunch an hour early today and now the afternoon is DRAGGING FUCKING ON AND ON. Shit.
I haven't written for a week now. I felt I deserved a break, which is just ridiculous. Now I can't think of what to do next, and I'm in the middle of a scene! Why didn't I type some quick notes before stopping suddenly? What the Hell is wrong with me? You know that maddening feeling when something is on the tip of your tongue? That's what the rest of this scene is doing to me. I stare at the last line...Can't remember. I reread the scene...Can't remember. Damn! How long am I going to have to stare at this?
Another problem arose the last time I actively worked on my screenplay. The writing was flowing well, and the ideas felt good, but I remember feeling vaguely...bored. With the whole process. How bad is this news? Does it mean that the stuff I think is so clever is actually drool/snore inducing? I'm considering having some old instructors look at it to see what they think, since I'm half-way through it. Even though the end is staring me in the face, I still kinda feel like it will never really be DONE done. Do you know what I mean? So complete that, at the very least, myself and those I trust will consider it a finished/polished work.
I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up. Update the resume, put together clips of my script reviews from past classes, post books to this site for sell, figure out my script service business, buy a ticket to Las Vegas for next month, scan polaroids and old photos and post to my photo site, figure out my shop thing (finally), look for more interesting work...The list just never ends.
Speaking of never ending, I ate lunch an hour early today and now the afternoon is DRAGGING FUCKING ON AND ON. Shit.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Where's My Rooster?
I woke up late today. Not that that's unusual. I wake up late pretty much every day, and have for years now. When I graduated from college I moved back in with my mom for almost a year. I got up when she did, 6:30 each weekday morning and 9 on the weekends. I suppose I was used to getting up early for classes still, so it wasn't painful at all, even though I spent three months not going anywhere.
So what happens when I get my ass out of bed late and traffic is guaranteed to be shitty and I'm starving? Well, something has to go. So I don't wash my face. I freshen up the acne meds, slap on sunscreen, arrange my eyebrows into an alert arch and pray that I'll have time between home and work to add blush so I don't resemble the undead. To be honest here, on really fucked up mornings where I wake up at like, 7:50 and have a whole 30 minutes to get ready get to work get in my chair and start answering those phones, I don't brush my teeth either. Damn, don't look at me like that! I know it's skanky, ok? But I'm going to get to work and start in on the drinking of water and probably have one of the convenient snacks I've placed in my desk, so the breath isn't going to matter anyhow. Nah, it's all about the corner cutting, yo!
I try to get a move on earlier, I really do. I'd love to have time for an actual morning routine. As opposed to running around in various states of undress hoping I don't forget, oh, I don't know...PANTIES. When me and my boy sleep at my place I set the clock for 7 am. I've made that happen three times in 6 months, people. There simply is no hope.
Back to my routine. I'd love to have a lazy, relaxing morning. Me time, you know? Maybe do a little light stretching or some toning exercises. Drink a cup of hot green tea, read a magazine. Carefully pick a cool outfit, accessories included. I love makeup. All the colors, textures, scents, powders, creams, mousses. I'd so enjoy having time to lay my products out, play a bit and make myself look stunning. I've got all the brushes, sponges and puffs any woman could ever need. With my fashion mag addiction in full swing lately, I'd have no shortage of ideas. (I keep a file. Quit laughing, you'll choke.)
Ah, it'd be like a lovely dream, people...Then the alarm BLARES THAT FUCKING NOISE. I'm up and running, 15 minutes to get into the car and on the highway so I won't be late. Thank God I bathe at night.
So what happens when I get my ass out of bed late and traffic is guaranteed to be shitty and I'm starving? Well, something has to go. So I don't wash my face. I freshen up the acne meds, slap on sunscreen, arrange my eyebrows into an alert arch and pray that I'll have time between home and work to add blush so I don't resemble the undead. To be honest here, on really fucked up mornings where I wake up at like, 7:50 and have a whole 30 minutes to get ready get to work get in my chair and start answering those phones, I don't brush my teeth either. Damn, don't look at me like that! I know it's skanky, ok? But I'm going to get to work and start in on the drinking of water and probably have one of the convenient snacks I've placed in my desk, so the breath isn't going to matter anyhow. Nah, it's all about the corner cutting, yo!
I try to get a move on earlier, I really do. I'd love to have time for an actual morning routine. As opposed to running around in various states of undress hoping I don't forget, oh, I don't know...PANTIES. When me and my boy sleep at my place I set the clock for 7 am. I've made that happen three times in 6 months, people. There simply is no hope.
Back to my routine. I'd love to have a lazy, relaxing morning. Me time, you know? Maybe do a little light stretching or some toning exercises. Drink a cup of hot green tea, read a magazine. Carefully pick a cool outfit, accessories included. I love makeup. All the colors, textures, scents, powders, creams, mousses. I'd so enjoy having time to lay my products out, play a bit and make myself look stunning. I've got all the brushes, sponges and puffs any woman could ever need. With my fashion mag addiction in full swing lately, I'd have no shortage of ideas. (I keep a file. Quit laughing, you'll choke.)
Ah, it'd be like a lovely dream, people...Then the alarm BLARES THAT FUCKING NOISE. I'm up and running, 15 minutes to get into the car and on the highway so I won't be late. Thank God I bathe at night.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Holy Kitty Cats, Batman!
I had a realization yesterday that I am actually starting to like animals. This freaks me out. I've been strongly animal phobic most of my life. Not liking the smell, mess, cost, general destruction, ecetera, blah blah. Now with my boy's kitty around all the time, well, he's grown on me. Apparently so are all animals, because I've started doing things like looking at cat pictures online. Yesterday I even touched a puppy! Her nose was wet (I hear this is a good thing) so I wiped my finger off on her head fur. This is a big deal, people!
My new feelings are facilitated by the fact that little Tux does such cute stuff. He sits in the open windows. He plays with twist ties like a madman. He curls into a ball to sleep, often using his tail as a face shield. He sits on his hind legs, front ones ramrod straight, with his little kitty paws curled up. He lays in dry sinks, attacking anyone who comes too close to his curling-place. He only drinks water from faucets. Hey, on that note, Sunday night Tux did some crazy shit. He has the habit of following everyone into the bathroom to get a drink from the faucet as you do your bid'ness. My boy had to pee. Tux followed him in. My sink being right next to the toilet, Tux was able to watch closely as the water flowed freely. Until he PUT HIS PAW INTO MY BOYFRIEND'S PEE STREAM. I heard screaming and wild laughter. I went to the door and received a giggle filled plea from my boy to remove Tux from his presence. That boy laughed so long and hard it took him 10 minutes to finish peeing.
Needless to say, I put Tux's paws under warm running water. Just so he wouldn't get pee everywhere.
According to my boy, Tux does a lot of things he's never seen cats do before. His latest thing is to pull the drain plug out of the bathroom sink and walk off with it. That thing is disgusting, and now I've had to touch it twice. I'm considering trying to teach him how to put things back where he found them. Think I'll have any luck?
On days when I'm feeling down I crave lots of things but I only miss four: my boy's sense of humor and cool skin, Tux's big eyes looking at me in darkened room and his cute little kittycat head that fits into the palm of my hand.
My new feelings are facilitated by the fact that little Tux does such cute stuff. He sits in the open windows. He plays with twist ties like a madman. He curls into a ball to sleep, often using his tail as a face shield. He sits on his hind legs, front ones ramrod straight, with his little kitty paws curled up. He lays in dry sinks, attacking anyone who comes too close to his curling-place. He only drinks water from faucets. Hey, on that note, Sunday night Tux did some crazy shit. He has the habit of following everyone into the bathroom to get a drink from the faucet as you do your bid'ness. My boy had to pee. Tux followed him in. My sink being right next to the toilet, Tux was able to watch closely as the water flowed freely. Until he PUT HIS PAW INTO MY BOYFRIEND'S PEE STREAM. I heard screaming and wild laughter. I went to the door and received a giggle filled plea from my boy to remove Tux from his presence. That boy laughed so long and hard it took him 10 minutes to finish peeing.
Needless to say, I put Tux's paws under warm running water. Just so he wouldn't get pee everywhere.
According to my boy, Tux does a lot of things he's never seen cats do before. His latest thing is to pull the drain plug out of the bathroom sink and walk off with it. That thing is disgusting, and now I've had to touch it twice. I'm considering trying to teach him how to put things back where he found them. Think I'll have any luck?
On days when I'm feeling down I crave lots of things but I only miss four: my boy's sense of humor and cool skin, Tux's big eyes looking at me in darkened room and his cute little kittycat head that fits into the palm of my hand.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Uggghhhh (Or, Where I Beg The Internet For Assistance)
I'm having a terribly fat day. I appear to still be gaining weight even though I'm in my 5th week of the "Body by Glamour" program. Those bitches haven't helped me. My pants just barely fit today. And to top it off I've got my monthly bloat. Hip hip hooray.
What can I do? I've stopped eating after 10pm. I try to make better choices at restaurants. I eat less fast food. I know I need to exercise more. Other than that I'm at a loss. I don't want to end up as one of those people who can hardly move, and when they do it's painful to watch. With all the huffing, puffing, sweating and groaning.
I remember college. I started wearing a size 18, and when I left I wore a size 12. I could tuck my shirts in! I could wear tight pants that showed off my booty! I felt comfortable in knits! That was a long, difficult process made easier by the fact that I had no social life and lots of free time. I could go to the gym at midnight if I needed to. And I often did. Along with getting up as early as 3:30 in the morning to exercise before class. That was serious dedication. I worked out every day. Ate three meals and two snacks. Only had sweets on special occasions. Do I have to go back to being that strict?
My greatest fear here is that I've hit my weight-loss-will-be-HELL period, which of course only gets worse from here. I mean, I'm 31 now. Why couldn't I have hit this time when I was 160 instead of 219?
Any ideas folks? What have you done to lose weight that didn't involve medications bought off infomercials or crazy diets that only let you eat one type of food?
What can I do? I've stopped eating after 10pm. I try to make better choices at restaurants. I eat less fast food. I know I need to exercise more. Other than that I'm at a loss. I don't want to end up as one of those people who can hardly move, and when they do it's painful to watch. With all the huffing, puffing, sweating and groaning.
I remember college. I started wearing a size 18, and when I left I wore a size 12. I could tuck my shirts in! I could wear tight pants that showed off my booty! I felt comfortable in knits! That was a long, difficult process made easier by the fact that I had no social life and lots of free time. I could go to the gym at midnight if I needed to. And I often did. Along with getting up as early as 3:30 in the morning to exercise before class. That was serious dedication. I worked out every day. Ate three meals and two snacks. Only had sweets on special occasions. Do I have to go back to being that strict?
My greatest fear here is that I've hit my weight-loss-will-be-HELL period, which of course only gets worse from here. I mean, I'm 31 now. Why couldn't I have hit this time when I was 160 instead of 219?
Any ideas folks? What have you done to lose weight that didn't involve medications bought off infomercials or crazy diets that only let you eat one type of food?
Monday, May 08, 2006
I Ate My Face Off
Have you ever eaten so much you thought you'd never eat again? It feels kinda good in the moment, but when the stuffing-face portion of the meal is over a sort of discomfort sets in. I had one of those weekends. How about you?
It started with Cinco de Mayo (of course). A giant $13 fishbowl strawberry margarita that I shared with my boy came first. We had to wait for a whole HOUR outside Arcelia's to get seated. Damn the drunken revelers trying to get their feed on! I'm pretty sure I saw a girl I went to high school with there. You know how it is, you think you've spotted someone you recognize so you eye them periodically. Then they get the sense that somebody's staring at them and you end up locking stares a few times. I didn't bother speaking to her. I have a policy: until I get my career/life together I don't converse with snooty bitches I used to know. I suppose you can guess we weren't friends during the way back, huh? I can say she looked significantly better than she did in school. This particular girl was popular, but oddly...mannish looking for a popular girl. But on this evening, 13 (OH MY DAMN!!!) years later she actually looked pretty. See how generous I am to the bitches?
After a mighty big load of recycling on Saturday my boy treated us to Burger King for a good deed done. We got Whopper Jr's which are just the perfect size I think. Have you tried their new fries? I really love the seasoning, but come on BK. Do you really have to make us work for our seasoned fries? No one else does. Did you figure the novelty would lead everyone to shake away madly to get that new taste sensation? Seriously, I do not go to the BK to prepare my own food. The only work I wanna do is getting ketchup (And why don't you have pumps/cups for that? Who hands out ketchup PACKETS to folks that eat in-house anymore? Guuuhhhhrrr.) and taking care of my drink. 'Kay?
We then took a brief trip to the mall. My boy was looking for a particular baseball cap and I convinced him to wander with me a bit. He didn't find his hat but was able to get two shirts off the Gap sell rack for a total of $16. I also struck gold with two summery tunics for the low, low price of $24. Woo HOOO! I love cheap clothes from moderately expensive places!!!
For dinner my boy wanted Chinese buffet. I didn't know of any good places for sure, so I lead him to a little spot not far from my house. We have the unfortunate tendency to both get bitchy, irritable and plain old mean when we're hungry. Seeing as my boy was starving and I was getting close, this was not a fun trip. He didn't like the looks of the place I led him to. Now I ask you, internet, what little neighborhood Chinese place EVER looks good, inside or out? He voiced his opinion, which seemed ridiculous to me, and suddenly turned toward my place. I said if he wanted to go back to the place across from the mall we could. 'Cept he'd turned in the wrong direction. I'd have to show him how to go ALLLLLLL THE WAY AROUND to get back. Wow, internet, I cannot describe in words just how much fucking fun THAT was. Jeez.
My boy is from a small town and has lived in small towns all his life until about a year and a half ago. Traffic drives him insane. Not just being in bad traffic, but more than, say, four other cars on the road, and he loses his shit. Never fails. Road work also gives him the low rages. So since we were out on a Saturday night in a good sized city in a high traffic part of town where the road was all tore up...guess what? THAT BOY O' MINE WAS NOT HAPPY. I was so glad when we finally got there and found a place to park and sat down and got some tasty food. Good Lord.
Sunday was interesting. Since the boy had paid for all our weekend meals so far I got our lunch at Red Robin. OMG internet! That shit was sooooo goooood! I needed to have the onion ring tower and the apple crisp for dessert, so I only ate half of my meal. I was quite proud of myself for that. Well, wouldn't you know it, I still ate so much that for the rest of the day I didn't need or want anymore food. I got a mild chocolate craving around 9 pm, but every time I thought about eating I felt kinda sick. And then right before bed around 1 am I got heartburn or indigestion or something related to the fact that I had eaten enough to feed a smallish nation ten hours prior. Peppermints saved the day.
I'd like to promise God and myself that I will never eat that much again. But you know me better than that, don't you internet?
It started with Cinco de Mayo (of course). A giant $13 fishbowl strawberry margarita that I shared with my boy came first. We had to wait for a whole HOUR outside Arcelia's to get seated. Damn the drunken revelers trying to get their feed on! I'm pretty sure I saw a girl I went to high school with there. You know how it is, you think you've spotted someone you recognize so you eye them periodically. Then they get the sense that somebody's staring at them and you end up locking stares a few times. I didn't bother speaking to her. I have a policy: until I get my career/life together I don't converse with snooty bitches I used to know. I suppose you can guess we weren't friends during the way back, huh? I can say she looked significantly better than she did in school. This particular girl was popular, but oddly...mannish looking for a popular girl. But on this evening, 13 (OH MY DAMN!!!) years later she actually looked pretty. See how generous I am to the bitches?
After a mighty big load of recycling on Saturday my boy treated us to Burger King for a good deed done. We got Whopper Jr's which are just the perfect size I think. Have you tried their new fries? I really love the seasoning, but come on BK. Do you really have to make us work for our seasoned fries? No one else does. Did you figure the novelty would lead everyone to shake away madly to get that new taste sensation? Seriously, I do not go to the BK to prepare my own food. The only work I wanna do is getting ketchup (And why don't you have pumps/cups for that? Who hands out ketchup PACKETS to folks that eat in-house anymore? Guuuhhhhrrr.) and taking care of my drink. 'Kay?
We then took a brief trip to the mall. My boy was looking for a particular baseball cap and I convinced him to wander with me a bit. He didn't find his hat but was able to get two shirts off the Gap sell rack for a total of $16. I also struck gold with two summery tunics for the low, low price of $24. Woo HOOO! I love cheap clothes from moderately expensive places!!!
For dinner my boy wanted Chinese buffet. I didn't know of any good places for sure, so I lead him to a little spot not far from my house. We have the unfortunate tendency to both get bitchy, irritable and plain old mean when we're hungry. Seeing as my boy was starving and I was getting close, this was not a fun trip. He didn't like the looks of the place I led him to. Now I ask you, internet, what little neighborhood Chinese place EVER looks good, inside or out? He voiced his opinion, which seemed ridiculous to me, and suddenly turned toward my place. I said if he wanted to go back to the place across from the mall we could. 'Cept he'd turned in the wrong direction. I'd have to show him how to go ALLLLLLL THE WAY AROUND to get back. Wow, internet, I cannot describe in words just how much fucking fun THAT was. Jeez.
My boy is from a small town and has lived in small towns all his life until about a year and a half ago. Traffic drives him insane. Not just being in bad traffic, but more than, say, four other cars on the road, and he loses his shit. Never fails. Road work also gives him the low rages. So since we were out on a Saturday night in a good sized city in a high traffic part of town where the road was all tore up...guess what? THAT BOY O' MINE WAS NOT HAPPY. I was so glad when we finally got there and found a place to park and sat down and got some tasty food. Good Lord.
Sunday was interesting. Since the boy had paid for all our weekend meals so far I got our lunch at Red Robin. OMG internet! That shit was sooooo goooood! I needed to have the onion ring tower and the apple crisp for dessert, so I only ate half of my meal. I was quite proud of myself for that. Well, wouldn't you know it, I still ate so much that for the rest of the day I didn't need or want anymore food. I got a mild chocolate craving around 9 pm, but every time I thought about eating I felt kinda sick. And then right before bed around 1 am I got heartburn or indigestion or something related to the fact that I had eaten enough to feed a smallish nation ten hours prior. Peppermints saved the day.
I'd like to promise God and myself that I will never eat that much again. But you know me better than that, don't you internet?
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