I. Am A Child

I just had to ask my mom for $500. I feel horrible.

We were prepared for about half of the expense, then we found all this little house crap that needed to be added to what we're having this handyman/carpenter/electrician dude do for us. Because I'm an idiot who's spent her last check on pants (because she's grown out of 6 pairs) and meals out (because she hasn't felt like cooking or saying no her FI-ance) we don't have enough left to pay him and pay my last rent at the old place and the internet man. All this stuff is happening before I get paid again. The FI-ance is paying my rent, the internet guy and an assortment of bills from his old place; leaving not much for our handyman.

I cannot remember the last time I asked my mom for money. It was literally several years ago, probably the last time I moved in 2000. I know for a fact she paid for that. This feels way worse though, because now there's two of us footing the bill for stuff.

But, she's my mom. She said yes and told me to stop by after work today. And considering all the things she's helped me with in the past I know she won't hold it over me or even expect to be repaid. Which will make repaying her (this time, for real) so sweet.

I did sense a certain trepidation in her voice. I think she believes we (ok, me specifically) weren't ready for this living together thing. God, we cannot fall on our faces.

Unbelieveable

I've been mad at the FI-ance for three days now.

It started on Tuesday when he made a big deal of telling me he'd be home early, but then stayed at work late anyway. Then he was all excited about getting stainless steel hoses for the washing machine. So we spent the next hour and a half calling for prices (I will be so glad when we finally have our internet connected at the house!) and then roaming around Lowe's looking for that shit.

I was thinking,"ok, most of the night's busted, but at least we can get some stuff from my place and work on the house." Yeah, that would've been nice. But it didn't happen.

He elected not to go to my apartment with me so he could 1)install the washer and dryer 2)put up the shower rod and 3)put our mailbox up. Not that those things didn't need to be done, but dammit I really wanted his help. And now the balance of the evening was going to be spent apart.

My FI-ance was thinking this was going to be a speedy little trip, and so did I at first. Then I got there and got even more pissed that he wasn't helping me and decided to grab as much as I could, which ended up taking about two hours. He rang my cell just as I was trying to come in the door with my arms full.

Here, internet, is what got me seriously angry. HE DIDN'T OFFER TO HELP CARRY MY CRAP INSIDE. Oh, not that bad, you say? Well, I asked him to help me. AND HE DECLINED. That's right, the FI-ance decided not to help me so he could get back to his installation of things that could have been finished, OVER THE PREVIOUS WEEKEND. (Side note: he did say he felt a cold or something coming on during that weekend and he was trying to rest up for Sunday's big move, it's not that I don't believe it...but, still.)

Oh, Hell! I was so mad. I already had to take 7 trips to and from the car at my apartment and now I have to do the same thing because you won't help me? I wanted to throw a box at his head.

He then had the nerve to ask if I'd go to WalMart with him while he picked up a dryer hose or some such mechanical crap, SO WE COULD SPEND SOME TIME TOGETHER. No, I'm not even playing. Those were his exact words. At first I said no because it was after midnight and I was tired and pissed and in my pj's. Then he needed help putting up the mailbox, so I had to put on clothes and then figured I might as well go to WalMart and buy shit I didn't need to make me feel less like stuffing my fiance' in the dryer and running it on high.

What's worse is that he did it again last night, make me mad that is. Because he got home by 7pm last night, but it was so he could watch Smallville. You read right. At home early; not to see me, but to watch a fucking tv show. I was angry all night and just like Tuesday told him so.

Now that everything's hooked up, maybe I'll put him in the washer and then dry him. I do so love to have options.

He's Not A Trucker

We delayed our actual big, truck-renting moving day until Sunday because of the Ice Storm of the Century that never materialized. I cannot express, after over a FULL YEAR of going back and forth between two apartments, how badly I wanted to get this consolidation thing DONE.
The FI-ance suggested, originally, a 24 foot U-Haul. So, that's what I got. Sunday morning, running behind schedule already, we go to pick it up and his face blanches.

"I...I think this may be too much truck for me. I mean, I've never driven that much truck before. That...that's BIG."

I stared at him from inside the truck, where I was checking the starting miles and fuel level. Internet, I do believe you know me well enough to guess my feelings on this.

"What? Listen, I'm sorry, but I need a smaller truck. Would you rather have me drive something I'm almost sure I can't handle? That's a lotta truck to be responsible for. And I'm not even sure that would fit into your parking lot and around those turns; all that's kinda small."

I know it's unreasonable, internet, but I was livid. So mad I could barely speak. So angered that I almost started crying. I just wanted to get this shit over with and he was breaking the flow.

I did get a smaller truck. A 17 footer to be exact, and I thank the SWEETBABYJESUS for that. As it was the FI-ance: ran into a stop sign, knocked over a street sign, drove onto at least 2 sidewalks and scraped off half of a wheel well while running over curbs.

I'm so glad he convinced me to get that insurance at the rental place.

Everything Smells Funny

And by "everything", I mean me. The FI-ance and me moved into the new house this weekend, and what a looong weekend it was. But I'm not saying that in a good way.

I took my first shower last night after almost 4 days of being too tired to bother. Not to mention needing to locate towels and soap and lotion. Or the fact that when you know you're going to get smelly again the next day, why make the extreme effort of showering?

I'm clean now but I swear I'm still faintly funky. I can't take a bath yet because 1) I don't trust the bathtub (I cleaned it out but haven't bleached it and therefore it isn't butt worthy yet) and 2) the damn tub doesn't have a stopper.

You know how they bomb homes for pest control? That's what I feel like I need for personal funk. Anybody know where they sell a B.O. Bomb?

My Fiance Doesn't Like Bending: News At Eleven

I'm going to try real hard to post about this without snark. It's gonna be hard, ok? But I'm doing it because I love you boy. Now, on to the story.

So you know how we bought this house, right? Well there aren't many cabinets in the kitchen and we'll need to get something to put ALL THE FOOD THAT BOY EATS in. My ideas for a solution were of the obvious baker's rack/inhanced microwave cart type. Then the boy reveals his long held secret: HE DOES NOT LIKE TO BEND.

I was confused. See, I have a microwave cart at my place where I keep most of my canned goods/cereal/assorted dry foods. Apparently, for this whole year, the boy has been irritated by the fact that he has to bend down and look through the cart to get to his beloved bean-n-bacon soup. Still, I was confused. Because, you know, bending is just a part of life. Right? Everybody bends all the time, don't we? You pick up stuff, don't you? Put air in your tires. Or duck down when the head clearance is low. Right? RIGHT???

We have now had at least two arguments about not putting things we use often so close to the floor (!), and in something where everything can't be seen at once (!!). One of these heated conversations took place in the crowded customer service line at WalMart. Yes, really. We are now those people. The kind that make you all uncomfortable when you're trying to return the air matress you poked a hole into with your nipple piercing but are pretending it came with that hole, dammit.

After initially laughing my head off and admittedly making fun of the boy, I've tried to take the high road and figure out a solution that will...accomodate him. But as he's very sensitive about this primary priority issue, he gets frustrated and irritable whenever we discuss it. I suggested, during our WalMart confrontation, that he be in charge of organizing whatever storage thingie we put in the kitchen. Maybe it was just hunger, but can you believe that pissed him off? I bet you can believe him getting pissed made me pretty damn angry. I was honestly being all sincere and stuff, internet.

We looked at some options this weekend, and still can't come to a final decision. He essentially wants a baker's rack made of wood that we won't have to assemble. I know, what the hell, right?

Totally. I cannot believe how much effort we're having to put into this. But, always remember boy: rawr, RAWR, raaaaawwr.

I Got The Call

Just about 40 minutes ago I heard from our realtor. We finally got it. We closed on our house. Our House. And? And...maybe I was so happy I cried a little. At my desk. At work. I'm overjoyed and in shock, so forgive me for being a bit subdued.

I cannot believe this past year. The boy, the cat, the job, the house...it's all amazing. I feel like a real-live adult. An incredibly blessed and lucky real-live adult.

Happy New Year Internet, and may all your years be as wonderful as this one has been to me.

XO
citygirl

Word to the Wise...

Don't ever close on a house while you're on your period. If you do, know that every little annoyance will irritate your already delicate emotional state to the hilt; making you either want to curl up into the fetal position and cry, or stab random people in their eyeballs.

Oh yeah, we're closing on our house today. Wish me and the fiance' (pronounced FI-ance, if you're from my neck of the woods) luck.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!

The List, She Grows

1)Finish my review of Eragon and sent to my editor
2)Exercise asap when I get home
3)Go to Night at the Museum Wed
4)Write notes for review
5)Set up home owners insurance & switch car ins. to same company
6)Get mortgage papers and fill out with loan officer and the boy
7)Get some food in the house
8)Start packing small stuff I don't need
9)Get more boxes
10)Call mom & tell her we found a house, bid on it and got it
11)Finish filing all those pages I rip outta magazines & print off the internet
12)Finally read the last two Sandman volumes
13)Post some stuff to flickr
14)Set up a budget dammit
15)Work on screenplay again
16)See about working at Sundance, SXSW and CineVegas
17)Formulate more interesting blog posts
18)Join Film Independent by 12/15
19)Stop coughing and having a sore throat
20)Donate $ somewhere
21)See what's left to buy of Christmas gifts
22)Wrap stuff
23)Make tea cakes for Mrs Nichols
24)Make cookies for me, because I deserve them
25)Stop getting in the bed after midnight already
26)Fill out paperwork to take house closing day off work
27)Consider decorative options for the walls at new house
28)See if I can get $ back from FedEx
29)Get refund from Newport News
30)List more stuff on Half.com

Wow, I'm already thinking of ways to pretend I don't need to do 90% of this stuff.

Hmmmm, And Now...?

Ok, so I had this whole post planned out yesterday about how the boy and I put a bid on a house after he made one decision and then got all confused and frustrated again five minutes after I called our realtor and told her we were doing one thing and had to call her back and tell her another, right? Well that's not even news now, cause now? Now, internet? THE BOY AND I HAVE ACTUALLY REALLY BOUGHT A HOUSE.

I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.

I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.

Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?

Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.

Just A Letter

Dearest Person Who Used the Bathroom Before Me,

Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)

As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.

Thank you. Goodnight.

Crunch Time

Unfortunately this post is not about all the sit-ups I've been doing. The boy and I are trying to buy a house.

He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.

Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?

We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.

Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?

Cat-tastrophy*

It's Sunday. Four o'clock in the morning, actually. All the boy and I wanted to do was wind down and prepare for our last day of the four day weekend. He gets in the bed and I head to the porch to check on our fiercely pawed feline. Oh crap, I can't see him! Oh super crap! I found him. Our Tux is ON THE ROOF (dammit!). I gasped in ultimate horror and must've looked about like this. Seriously, I am surprised I was able to refrain from screaming and fainting.

So now we (aka my half-naked fiance' in a ratty robe and clunky tennis shoes) have to try coaxing the kitty down before he falls to his death. It's dark and cold and we're on the third floor. Fuck.

This must be what parenthood is like. You want your progeny to explore, but you know they might overstep their bounds and get hurt at some point. That, and it scares the shit out of you.

Of course just asking Tux to come down and having him, I don't know...do it, would be too simple. The boy has one chair and the last time he had to stand on it to retrieve Sir Tuxenstiegel (damn cat) he almost died. That chair, it swivels. Not good for standing. So what does he drag out to the porch? An empty cooler. This did not instill me with any more confidence than the chair, but whattaya gonna do?

Tux is meowing mournfully now, he clearly knows he's out of his element. But will he just let the boy grab him? No. He has to start clawing and move away from the edge of the roof so we can't get to him. I'm behind the boy, spotting him and praying that neither of them falls off the building to the concrete-of-death below.

It probably only took 10 minutes to fish him down, but it felt like forever and almost killed me.

Damn that cat.

*God, I'm so clever.

It's Been One Of Those Weeks

Sunday

We go to a super early showing of The Prestige. Two tickets only cost $8 and we had to get to the theater at 11:11am. I'm not even playing. There were only 3 people at the show. We sneak in cheapo breakfast goodies by way of my huge-ass purse. It's like I'm a kid again. Oh yeah, everyone needs to see this movie. It. Is amazing.

At the end of a lazy weekend the boy decides we should play frisbee inside his tiny apartment. With the top from a Rubbermaid container. I catch and return; the top bounces off the wall and hits him in the nose, skinning a significant portion of said appendage. The boy spends most of the week with a huge scab on his cute, nobby nose. As you might imagine I feel horrible for this, but blame him for it anyway. I mean, hey, he started it.

The boy leaves his debit card in the ATM. Dammit!

Monday

I went to work. This would soon change.

Also, the boy has an unquenchable desire to watch the copy of last week's Battlestar Gallactica (geek) he got his grubby little hands on. I protest but give in, and we watch BG at 11pm before heading back to my place. I'm sleepy. The boy will pay for this.

Tuesday

I get antsy for Christmas decorations and make plans to clean and get my holiday on. I have visions of me and the boy decorating my place as cookies bake and Christmas music plays. I decide we'll get this done before the end of the week.

I make cookies for tomorrow's potluck at work and pack up 1/2 of each batch. I'm proud that I manage to go to bed with only 2 cookies in my belly.

Wednesday

We have our potluck. This takes up a good two hours of actual work time. I simply adore sanctioned time wastage!

The boy and I have a talk. He wants to go out, but can't access his cash at this late hour since he left behind his ATM card on Sunday and is waiting on a new one. He asks if I can spot us. I get pissy and tell him so. He literally had ALL DAY to go to the bank and take money out. Instead he did lots of sleeping and video game playing(ok, he did have a job interview, too). Why is this so difficult sometimes?

He actually finds a drive-up teller open after 5pm and we speed over. We spend the night with dinner at House of Wong, drinks and my pool learnin' at Nick's in Dogtown. We're out late and have a lot of fun. This day turned out real nice.

Thursday

Me and the boy walked to the park near my and played frisbee (for real this time) until well after dark. For some reason I got into it and worked my ass off. It's the one good workout I had all week.

Friday

The boy returns from another job interview (yay!) and drops the idea of another early movie. We see Stranger Than Fiction (get thee to a theater post haste, internet) with a purse full of Jack-n-the Box. Loverly afternoon.

I tell the boy I want us to decorate my apartment. I begin to clean and he dutifully LAYS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND GOES TO SLEEP. TOTALLY ON PURPOSE. Can you imagine, internet, that this gets on my nerves? I did not decorate. Instead I played Christmas music, straightened my place and made pizza (cheese, tomato, onion, lots of spices...*drool*).

Saturday

We did our civic duty and recycled a ton of glass, paper, cans, etc. As usual, our reward for this is eating out. This time we went to Joe's Crab Shack and I did indeed spot us to the tune of $36. See why this is so difficult? It didn't even occur to me to care this time. And I didn't even realize the boy was going to return the favor for this one until we sat down. Maybe this is horrible, but only then did I decide to buy that appetizer.

Sunday

I told myself that this weekend at the boy's place would be about working on my screenplay, creating a budget and other really useful things. Instead I'm watching football and writing my blog. Well, fuck. The day ain't over yet.

Splenda Packets I've Stolen

It's all the boy's fault. I was perfectly happy using real sugar for everything: cereal, coffee, tea...But he's all crazy about the Splenda. If something's got that crap in it, he's gonna buy it. The fiance' even got a big ol' box a that stuff for his house, but he never uses it. Who does? Me. Why? Because I'm addicted now and I blame him. I'm still screctly convinced it'll kill us all one day, but I can't think about that now dammit. I'm trying to lose weight! What really sucks is that it's about twice as expensive as sugar.
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In other news, me and the ladies from my new department had lunch with recent quitter J on Friday. She's finally engaged to BigTallD, her boy of over three years. What's even better is she asked me to be her wedding photographer next year! They're hiring someone for the ceremony, but want me to do all the fun pre and post shots. I'm actually looking forward to this. I shot one wedding about seven years ago and swore I'd never do it again, but I can already feel that this'll be a good time.
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Tux the emperor cat has been all about bundling up lately. I can't sit on the couch with a blanket without him getting all up under my cover. He lays at my feet, by my side, on my legs, and most strangely - between my legs right in my crotch. As cute as it all is I cannot emphasize enough how odd it is to feel his furry kitty body BETWEEN MY THIGHS. As if I've given birth to his fuzzy, Tuxy self. I suppose I should just get used to it because we've got at least 4 months of the cold stuff left.
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How's the new job? Good, really good. Thanks for asking. There seems to be just one thing. I'm kinda getting bored already. It's only been a month, so...dammit, I don't know what to do about that. I haven't even had a chance to decorate my cubby yet and already I'm giving thought to how long I can stand this.
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I exercised on Saturday! This may not sound like a big deal to any of you, but trust me, when you go a whole week without doing anything it's easy to say fuck it and give up on the weekends and pretend it'll be easier to start over the following week. Now I've kinda got my groove back.
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The boy has a 2nd interview for a job that would be really cool today. Wish him luck!

Wishing Won't Make It So

Wow, did I ever suffer from wishful thinking here or what? If you read it, I bet you can guess what I screwed up. That's right. I have never in my adult life weighed as little as 132 pounds. You know which number needs to change...? You got it, amigos. It should be 232. Fuck. It hurts all over again.

I haven't exercised once this week. I had plenty of time Monday, since I called in sick on our dreary, cold, rainy day, but spent most of my time reading for my class. With my butt firmly planted on the couch. I tried to put on one of my favorite skirts (my only winter item for my lower half that's not pants)Tuesday and it basically fit. But when I looked in the mirror and saw how much stomach was poofed over the top it pissed me off, made me sad and depressed me all at once. I opted for pants.

I've got a lot to do: a ton of homework, three film reviews to write, another film to see, quick trip to WalMart...There's got to be something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, trying not to stuff my face with food from the sadness. That's it.

Sorts

I'm foggy today. I can't concentrate on anything for very long. My brain feels heavy. I spent 10 minutes trying to figure out how to turn a cardboard ring into a bangle bracelet. I am obviously not quite right. The endless round of stuffy, runny, sneezy, blowy nose crap is getting to me. I had to get up at 4:30 this morning to pee and stayed up until five taking allergy meds, drinking hot tea and blowing my nose but having nothing come out. All I want? To curl up in bed and sleep.

On a really, seriously good note though, I got two more film review assignments today. One tonight and one for Saturday morning. Thank God. I though I'd burned that bridge. Why? Well it's a long story that I'll make simple: I missed a screening. That's right, I had to tell my editor that I couldn't write one of the reviews he assigned me because I wasn't able to see the damn movie. What happened? It's my fault and the boy's fault and there was irritation and anger and disappointment and it's all three weeks over now. The point is that I don't have to have a talk with my editor asking if he's avoiding me because of the incident. I don't care if I only get to review the crap movies for a bit, I'm working my way back into his good graces.

Where The Hell Have I Been?

-Sneezing*. You remember how I've had allergies all summer? Well today a new phenomenom started: blowing my nose now causes me to fart. And not little, cute *pop* *ptttthhhppp* farts but big, hard *BOOM* *CRACK* *DAMN* farts. Also? The odor, she is bad. Shit. Stop it gastrointestinal tract! I hate you now.

-Being speckled. Apparently I'm allergic to something I've used on my face recently. How do I know this? Because for the past week I've looked like someone attacked me with gravel...and it stuck to my face. The skin thing was bad enough, but then I woke up Friday morning with puffy, puss lips. Fuck. What's wrong with you skin? I had to see my mom for her birthday like this -- the next day. I was really afraid she'd notice, pull me aside and ask "What the hell did that boy give you? What the shit did he do to your face!!?" Luckily it was kinda dark in her house and she can't really see anyway. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus for mid-life sight loss.

-Under paying my credit card bill. Did you know that if you paid your bill on time but accidentally forgot to pay enough to cover the minimum that you'd get hit with a late fee? Did you know that this "late" fee cost me $39 this month? No? Yeah, well, it did. Dammit Chase bank! Why can't a sista get ahead!? I owed them $139 this month which just about ate up my raise. Thusly, I have $12 to keep me until Friday, when the pay/pity cycle starts all over again.

-Working. So I've got this new job, right? I love the new freedom. I just kinda miss the old freedom a teensy bit, too. Jeez, I'm greedy.

-Not answering the phone. I don't have to listen to a ringing phone all day anymore so I don't. And. It. Is. AWESOME. My phone is on "do not disturb" so any calls go directly to my voice mail. If people leave an email address I get in touch that way instead of calling. BECAUSE I CAN. Loverly.

-Addressing the issue that is my flab. Turns out I weigh a whole ton more than I thought I did. I stepped on a scale last week and it's amazing that I didn't start crying on the spot. Unbelievable that I didn't become hysterical and then fall into a coma from the stress that is...SEEING EVIDENCE THAT I WEIGH 132 POUNDS. Fan-fucking-tastic folks. I now weigh around what my mom did at this ripe old age of 31. I've been doing well not eating late. I can even watch the boy eat Taco Bell, Jack'n the Box, McDonald's, chocolate covered peanuts, Snickers, etc. at midnight and not join in. Exercise? I'm still shooting for 30 minutes a day but haven't made it yet. Doesn't mean it's not still my goal. Cause it is. You hear that flab? I'm comin for ya!

-Wondering how I can finally have an orgasm. Shit. Do I need to take a siminar, or what?

-Watching tv. Also known as watching LOST, Studio 60, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Girlfriends (maybe past its peak), Desperate Housewives (will never be as good as the first season again), The Office, My Name is Earl, Supernatural, Smallville, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy and American Dad. See? I'm busy.

-Not getting any film review assignments. I can't help but believe that this is directly related to an incident two weeks ago. Dammit, I'll tell you about it later.

-Comforting the boy after Eddie Van Halen scared the crap outta him.

*Do any of you ever feel that blowing your nose makes it bigger? Fine. You can lie to me, but not yourselves...liers.

These Are My Thighs

I made the mistake of going to my beloved Gap outlet store this weekend. Why was it a mistake? Because I knew what was going to happen. I'd find pants in my size (18 to 20...yeah, I know) try them on and be disappointed. I wish I could just blame the Gap. Say that they've started making things like crap, but it ain't true.

So I found a ton of cheap pants to try on. I took about 12 pairs into the fitting room, and NONE of them fit me. Not even the size 20s. The only thing that stopped me from crying is that the boy was there. When I got done he was sitting in front of the fitting room waiting for me. He sounded shocked when I said that not-a-one of those pants (oh, except for the sweats, which were a XXL)fit my ass.

"You mean they didn't fit the way you like them to, or they didn't fit?"

"They didn't fit."

"So, they just..."

"I couldn't even get some of them on."

"Ok. Even the 20s?"

"Even those."

I could tell he was horrified. Not just because he realized his fiancee was a giant, but because he saw I was upset by the same realization.

"Do you think that maybe it was just those pants? The way they're made?"

Bless his country heart for trying to make this all the Gap's fault. I fessed up, I've gained a lot of weight. I didn't give him the exact number, but revealed that pants I wore in the spring don't fit now. Last time I went to the doctor I was 220 lbs. I'm kinda tall, so I'm capable of carrying it without looking like an oompa loompa, but still. I'm way too heavy. I told myself I wouldn't get past a size 20 and I seem to have done it anyway.

"This'll be ok," he says. "We need to exercise more. If we just stick to walking and playing frisbee every day, it'll take awhile but we'll get in shape. I can stand to lose about 10 pounds. And, I'd never suggest you lose weight 'cause I think you look great, but if you're worried about it this will help you too."

Theoretically this is easy. Stop eating so much junk so often and get off your ass. But I love sitting on my ass! When I sit on my ass I can watch movies and tv and read books and magazines. I'd love, really to get back to 180lbs. Going up the boy's two flights of stairs would be so much easier. Everything would be easier.

How did I let myself get so lazy?

And The Hits Just Keep A'Comin

Wouldn't you know it? I'm not free yet. My Panamanian replacement had some difficulties and was promptly fired on Tuesday afternoon. I got called into the boss' office and told "We've got a problem..." I was not happy, but here's the deal: I work the front from open until my lunch, then after lunch whoever they can pull from the rest of the office will take over. I still get my new salary, and my permanent replacement starts in 1 week. I agreed to do it, hoping that it'll buy me some points with my boss.

Still, though, I'm outrageously happy about the new job. And I've hardly ever had to get on the phone. That? Is. Amazing.

Ok, So, I Feel Silly

About an hour after I got all hot over my boss's poor hiring decision, I was told that they indeed would be getting a temp until someone could be hired full time. Well, look at that. For once I got all worked up over nothing at work. Still? It took me about two hours after hearing the news to calm the hell down. The fierce anger literally made me physically HOT. Lord, internet. It's just a damn shame how I let that get the best of me.

The goodness now is that I've officially started my new job. Monday. I trained our Panamanian temp for half the day then moved my crap to my new desk in a cube(YAY!) and started working. I'm a bit slow with the new system I had to learn but I've gotten the hang of it. I don't even need my notes most of the time anymore. You know why? Cause I'm super special and shit.

So there.