Can of Worms

My Tin Foil Hats

2007-10-12T08:06:00.000-04:00

The final installment of X's interview. Enjoy...

What’s your favorite conspiracy theory, and why?
Sheesh, I could have written an entire dissertation on this question alone. When most people think of conspiracy buffs they picture a paunchy, middle aged guy wearing a tin foil hat while sitting in the basement of his parents’ house. This may be true in some cases but most conspiracy theorists I’ve come into contact with are actually highly intellectual people who see something amiss and dig deeper. Or as my boss would put it “give it the smell test”. If it doesn’t smell right it probably isn’t. Talk to a conspiracy buff and you’ll find someone who knows more about history than just what was taught in your high school or college textbooks. But, I digress, on with the answer…There are actually 2 that I try follow on a somewhat regular basis.

JFK assassination – There are a million and one conspiracy theories about this assassination. What keeps me interested in this topic is that too many things don’t add up. How does a guy with U.S. military training defect to the Soviet Union at the height of the Cold War then return to the U.S. to re-claim his citizenship with not so much as a peep from the government? How does a guy who, according to which account you believe, couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a bulldozer fire 3 shots in 15 seconds and manage to blow out the brains of the sitting American President? Before he can be tried, or for that matter properly interrogated, he himself is killed in front of the entire Dallas police department by a supposed vigilante. As of yet, no one has accounted for how the third man was shot in Dealey Plaza, especially since he was nowhere near the motorcade (well, except for him…he compiled his own conspiracy theory and had it published). And where the hell is Kennedy’s brain? In April 1968, civil rights activist Martin Luther King was assassinated, again by a supposed lone, crazed gunman. In June 1968, JFK’s brother and then presidential candidate Robert Kennedy was assassinated by yet another lone, crazed gunman. Apparently in the ‘60s it was very vogue to be a lone, crazed gunman. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Add the assassination of South Korean leader and U.S. puppet Diem twenty days prior to the JFK assassination and Kennedy's limited withdrawal of troops from the war in the weeks leading up to his assassination.

And what about Vietnam? Kennedy was searching for a way to get the hell out - quickly. In less than a year after the assassination, Congress passed the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution based on 2 reports of unfriendly fire on U.S. destroyers. The second of these incidents, the attack on the USS Turner, was deemed to have been a fabrication according to a 2005 NSA report (similar to the whole WMD debacle). The Resolution effectively gave then President Johnson free reign in SE Asia. My opinion is that the whole thing stinks worse than week old fish. Someone was desperate to stay in Vietnam…the question is, why?

The second conspiracy theory that has recently caught my attention is probably going to gain me permanent membership in the tin foil hat club but here it goes. Originally it started as a quest to gain more information about the Nag Hammadi Library (aka Dead Sea Scrolls) after my curiosity was piqued by the movie Stigmata and then piqued again by The DaVinci Code. I was raised Presbyterian which means that I was taught to interpret the stories of the Christian Bible as fables rather than historical fact with the exception of a few, namely the birth as well as the crucifixion and subsequent resurrection. In reading the Scrolls and the subsequent research, I came across statements that the crucifixion of Jesus was faked. Actually one of the Gospels found at Nag Hammadi explains how the crucifixion was faked and contains some rather snarky comments from Jesus about how He fooled the Romans. Further research revealed a supposed burial site in India.

Is there any truth to this? Some, but I haven’t had much time to properly research this theory yet. If true, it could be the biggest conspiracy in history. Why does it appeal to me? To tell the truth, the mere idea of something being false that I've been taught to believe for so long drives me to flesh this out. I need to be able to say that I checked it out and either I believe it to be possible or I don't. When you boil it all down, that need is what drives any researcher.

Thanks to my dear friend, X, for dragging me kicking and screaming back into the blogosphere.

The Continuation of the X Interview

2007-10-11T08:48:00.000-04:00

If you could take the most pleasant aspects of every city you’ve lived in, and form a new city (1) what would you call it, and (2) what’s cool to do in this town on a Saturday night?

I grew up in a tiny village in rural Ohio. Every one I knew grew up on a farm. Every one they knew grew up on a farm. Cultural diversity was a term that I didn’t become familiar with until I went to college. I began dating a guy from Puerto Rico (ok, not the wilds of say, Zimbabwe but it was a start). After meeting his friends, I realized that I wasted 3 years of my precious, young life in high school Spanish class because it took me about 5 minutes to arrive at the painful consensus that I didn’t know jack. I could barely speak conversational Spanish and I knew absolutely nothing about their culture. After a few pitchers of beer and a pizza, it didn’t matter. We were chatting like close friends. That was when I realized that, as corny as it sounds; food really can bring people together.

If I had to create a new town it would have a central marketplace like the ones found in Asia, Africa and South America. Filled with vendors selling fresh meat, veggies, fruit, nuts…anything you could possibly want to eat. And street vendors selling homemade delicacies from around the world. Stop…I know what you’re thinking. There would be no deep fried Twinkies in this joint. No hot dogs steamed in water that looks like it was pumped from the septic tank in my backyard. I’m talking fresh food from Mom & Pop vendors. Wouldn’t it be nice to just pop over to the mercado for quick, tasty and somewhat nutritious lunch or dinner rather than eating at Mickey D’s…again? Who cares if you can’t pronounce it or don’t really know what it’s made of. Usually if you can point to it, you can order it. And if it smells good, it’s more than likely going to taste great (one rule: nothing made from rat. I don’t care how good it smells/tastes, I ain’t eating rat). There would be tables everywhere so you could sit down, chow on your grub and discuss the fine art of how to suck on a crawfish head without popping out the eyes with someone you just met.

Each weekend the marketplace would be filled with music from different cultures. A little steel drums and reggae in one quadrant, maybe some Salsa in another and of course, my favorite band du jour in the middle of it all (hey, I’m putting out the money here). Did I mention the alcohol? Drinks from all over the world as well. You could literally start with a pint of Guinness, be transported by sake and bring the night to a close with a few shots of sugar cane liquor from South America. Although, I wouldn’t recommend that particular combo unless you plan on showing one and all that scrumptious sashimi you ate for dinner. And free cab rides home so I don’t have to scrape your arses off the street at bar close.

Evidently the creative portion of my brain shut down today because I'm having trouble coming up with a name for this imaginary town. Any suggestions???

Tomorrow, one last question from X....about conspiracies.....

Xdell's Fiendish Attempt to Get Me Posting Again

2007-10-10T08:30:00.000-04:00

My dear friend, Xdell, whom I love and adore, asked if he could interview me. I thought maybe dementia had finally set in as I could find no other reason why the great one would want to interview little ol’ me. I’ll do anything for X so I, of course, agreed to do it. I figured he’d send me a few questions, I’d respond and he’d post it on his blog. Not so fast there, Missy. The instructions were to post the answers on my blog, which of course, hasn’t contained a new post for almost a year. Sneaky one, aren’t you X? ;) So I guess I’m posting again. Yes, you can take bets on how long I keep up with it this time around. On with the questions…and answers….

Imagine that you’re the founder and president of a successful proprietary company. What’s your product, or service?
Why Giant Atomic Chicken slaying, of course. See below. Ooooo, maybe I could get a cool X-men type leather uniform to do the slaying in. Wait…if I remember correctly, SJ’s pact with Satan brought forth the Giant Atomic Chickens in the first place. Oh well, maybe if I cut him in on the cash flow and throw a few souls his way, he’ll be ok with me destroying a few chickens. You’d pay a couple of grand to keep from being Giant Atomic Chicken fodder, wouldn’t you???

About a year ago, SJ wrote that you were the only human he would rescue from the Giant Atomic Chickens. Were you able to subsequently subdue the beasts, would you be partial to the breast, thigh, wing or drumstick?
If I remember correctly the whole idea of making the chickens atomic was so no one would decide to feed a small nation with them. But I do love me some chicken wings, especially giant fiery hot atomic ones. The only problem is that you maintain a green glow for the next 10 years (not to mention the digestive tract implications). Hmmm, I wonder if I can get those in spicy teriyaki.

Who are the top 10 fictional characters you would love to date (cannot be a real person, only a fictional character)?

Atticus Finch – To Kill a Mockingbird is my favorite book. Set in the Deep South, prior to the Civil Rights movement, Atticus accepts the challenge of defending a black man against false rape charges. Knowing that he would be ostracized by friends and family, knowing that it possibly meant harm to himself and his children, he did it because it was the right thing to do. Now, really…who among us would turn down a date with a man that honorable?
Chris Neilson – If you’ve never seen What Dreams May Come, rent it NOW. I’m not one for ushy-gushy love stories – I didn’t even cry during Titanic – but this one makes me cry every time. This is the man – the love – for which I search. Added bonus: I’m a big Monet fan so the scene in the painting always reminds me of what it would be like to walk around inside one of the master’s works.
Maximus - Blessed father, watch over my wife and son with a ready sword. Whisper to them that I live only to hold them again, for all else is dust and air. Ancestors, I honor you and will try to live with the dignity that you have taught me. *sighs* Seriously, what woman wouldn’t want to date this man???? Mmmm. The fact that the thought of Maximus conjures images of Russell Crowe in that short gladiator uniform helps the cause.
Aragorn - Admittedly, I chose Aragorn based on the LOTR movies, not the books. I tried reading the series when I was younger and frankly, couldn’t get through it. From what I can tell, Aragorn was a bit more self-assured in the books. I think I’ll stick with Aragorn from the movies. I like my men with a few faults.
Hawk-eye – Ok, this is partially a cop out as Hawk-eye, Maximus and Aragorn are essentially the same character. The hero of James Fennimore Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans. Honestly, I would have thrown William Wallace (Braveheart) into the mix as well, but, alas he wasn’t fictional.
Hobbes (of Calvin & Hobbes fame) – Obviously, Hobbes is the more mature of the 2 lovable characters, and the only one I might add that doesn’t think girls are G.R.O.S.S. which heightens my chances, right??
Prince Charming- Cinderella. ‘Nuff said.
Wolverine – Ok, I admit the image of Hugh Jackman (SFW with ‘whoa momma I want me some of that’ pic) in leather makes me quiver but it’s not solely Hugh that makes Wolverine so attractive. I’ve had a thing for Wolverine long before the X-Men movies came out. Maybe it’s the bad boy attitude. Maybe it’s the smart ass remarks. Nah, I think it’s the hair. Note to self: Add handcuffs to the head board. Gotta watch where those claws are at all times. Ouch!
Dracula – No, not the character as portrayed in Bram Stoker’s novel, nor most of the hundreds of interpretations. Only the Dracula from the Coppola 1992 remake will do for this girl. I’m not certain if it was Coppola or Gary Oldham who came up with the idea to romanticize – almost humanize – Dracul in this interpretation. Even Stoker himself never made me feel anything but contempt for the monster. But Coppola/Oldham made me feel sorrow for his predicament, made me want to free him – or join him. The scene in the bedroom of the sanatorium, while the men are out looking for Dracula, he comes to Mina in the form of a mist under the bed sheets. The moment when he stops her from drinking his blood – from joining him in eternal life - because he cannot bear the thought of her eternal damnation. That scene does it for me every time. It makes me think of him not as a horrible monstrosity but rather simply as a man, in love with a woman. Whew!
Linus Larrabee – Sabrina is one of my favorite movies. I picked Linus because the character is the epitome of a type A personality, someone who is driven by excellence and a need to succeed. It’s extremely hard for him to admit that he needs anything or anyone. I admire the character for his ability to not only realize his faults but to overcome them.

Stay tuned. The interview continues tomorrow......

Tired of the Tango

2007-03-01T08:00:00.000-05:00

Ok, just to update the workout saga I did the leg/core routine for the first time yesterday. Romanian deadlifts may workout your entire body but they also make it incredibly hard to stand or sit the next day. I look like my Grandmother when I get up from a chair...clinging to any nearby solid object for support. Oh, if only Matthew Mcconaughey were nearby!

On with the post...

I've been dancing with this guy at the gym. No, not Dancing with the Stars type dancing but that tango that we all do while checking each other out. If you haven't noticed yet, I become a complete idiot at this stage of the dating game. This time I've been trying to keep my head on straight and at least appear that I know how to play this game.

So far that dance has involved him staring, me smiling when I catch him staring and him turning away red-faced when caught in the act. Last week when I emerged from one of the workout rooms after a class, he and his friend were on a machine right outside the door. I had to giggle at the look on their faces. It was that, "OMG, it's her!" look. You know...the look you get when you're strolling down the hallway at the office and the hottie from Marketing appears from nowhere??? I smiled at them and continued to walk out while chatting away with the other girls from my class.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I'm growing tired of dancing. I mean it's a fun little game but enough already. The band's tired of playing and I'd like to have a name to put with my little hottie's face. So how do I progress from this tango to a little dirty dancing? Do I feign ignorance and ask him for help on an exercise? Do I ask to work-in (for the workout impaired that means sharing) on a machine he's using? WHAT??????

Good grief! Why can't we all just be equipped with traffic lights so we'd know what the other is thinking? You know...red means "don't even try it", yellow "proceed with caution", green "c'mon wild monkey sex". Ok...that's not what green means but you get the picture. Wouldn't that be sooooo much easier????

Ouch!

2007-02-23T14:55:00.000-05:00

I ramble...therefore I am.

My butt hurts. Well, actually my glutes hurt. As do my thighs. No, not from wild monkey sex (ahhh, wild monkey sex.....what's that like? I've forgotten). I worked out with one of the trainers last night. She developed a new workout routine for me and as we talked she mentioned that she thought I was working out too hard. Then we ran through the new routine. I don't quite know how to tell her that the old workout was a piece of cake compared to this one. I mean...a Romanian Deadlift??????? It even sounds hard. My muscles ache and I only did 1 set of the new exercises. Someone get the Advil. Please.

Please.Stop.Head Exploding. This whole Anna Nicole/Britany Spears media circus is frying my brain. As much as I try to avoid it, everytime I turn on the TV or check a news website it's the lead story. Do we not have enough drama in our own daily lives that we have to thrive on someone else's? For once, could we just...for a minute...not care about the probate matters or shaved heads of celebrities? For 3 or 4 seconds......please.....could we focus on a real issue?

1st Beaver spotted in NYC in over 200 years. Ok, make your own jokes.

The issue in Texas regarding parents who are upset about the HPV vaccine mandate because they either (a) don't want to (or don't know how to) talk to their kids about sex or (b) think it will give their kids free reign to have sex made me wonder...Why are so reluctant to talk to kids about sex? It's not like they aren't going to do it if we don't tell them about it. I remember my mom's version of "the talk" consisted of handing me a book. I could make a list of all the things I had to learn about sex on my own (that didn't come out right. lol). Wouldn't it be nice to put some actual facts in their head before they go down that road?

I think I'm done rambling. Have a great weekend!

Truth or Dare

2007-02-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

Newton theorized that for every action there was a separate but equal reaction. His theory related to motion. In other words, if throw a baseball at your car windshield, the windshield will chip or crack in some manner which is equal to the velocity at which I throw the ball.
It occurred to me that Newton's theory doesn't just apply to motion but to emotion as well. Every action we take causes a separate but equal reaction by someone else. If I do something nice for you, you in turn do something nice back. Again, velocity (or maybe veracity in this case) is a key factor. The larger the action, the larger the reaction. Well, theoretically that's how it works.

Recently I expelled a friend from my life for lying. He'd probably refer to it as telling "versions" of the truth...never outright super-sized lies but also never the whole truth. It was always some version of what happened that fell somewhere in the midst of truth and untruth and contained more holes than Swiss cheese. He did it on a continuous basis and I grew weary of deciphering the "real" truth from the misinformation he provided. I tried to explain my weariness but it was to no avail. No matter what my action was, his reaction was always the same. So, I walked away...in emotional terms the ultimate reaction.

The problem is I wonder if I over-reacted. Where do you draw the line between being a friend and getting sucked into their personal issues? I know I can't fix the issue for him. I know that my actions (or reactions as the case may be) significantly reduced the amount of drama in my own life. I'm wondering if my theory is seriously flawed...that action doesn't always = reaction in the emotional world.

Empowerment by Panties

2007-02-18T21:08:00.000-05:00

I haven't been feeling very confident lately. I've always been rather shy and any depletion of my confidence usually sends me into withdrawal until I feel safe to step out of my comfort zone again. Evidently my little excursion into my cave of solitude had been noticed by one of my dearest male friends.

"You need new panties."
"Excuse me?" I said giggling
"You've lost your confidence. You need new lingerie...bras, panties..."
"And this will return my confidence?" I was still giggling at the absurdity of his suggestion.
"Yes. You need to go shopping tomorrow. Whatever you buy it has to make you feel sexy every time you put it on."

I thought he'd finally lost his mind. A new bra was supposed to return my confidence? Had he ever worn a bra????????? They're not exactly the most comfortable thing you can wear. The usual rule of thumb is the sexier the bra the more uncomfortable it is. I'm much more myself
in something comfortable. I didn't have to say it out loud. I knew his response would be that that was exactly his point. So, shopping I went.

It's amazing what shopping for sexy lingerie can do for one's psyche. As I selected my bounty and headed for the dressing room I noticed a bounce in my step. My mojo was making a come back. By the time I hit the check-out I was in full blown "all that and a bag of chips" mode. I even laughed and winked at the sales woman when she joked that I evidently had some hot plans.

My friend was right. I'm not sure if it's the feel of the silk against my skin or the secret knowledge that what lies beneath these jeans is not just a pair of plain jane cotton panties but rather full fledged satin and lace with matching bra to boot. Whatever it is, my confidence has made a triumphant return. I even walk with more confidence...or maybe that's just the fact that the girls are cinched up to my nose. No matter. Perception is reality and if a little lace does the trick...then so be it.

*A big *smooch* and my undying gratitude to my friend for knowing my confidence was there the whole time and pointing me in the right direction.

A Valentine of a Different Color

2007-02-14T09:14:00.000-05:00

My Valentine from Parker...

Ok, give her a break...she's 2! I think she got a little help from her Mom. lol.

Happy Valentines Day to all of you!!

He's Perfect For You....

2007-02-12T22:30:00.000-05:00

Four little words that send chills down my back. My best friend is on a mission to make a love connection between me and one of the unfortunate single guys she works with (I have my pick of 2! woo hoo!). So far I know their ages and the ages of their kids. Umm...hello...I know more information than that before I buy a toaster...let alone picking out a date. The whole thing has that little voice in my head screaming "run away, run far away". When you're single it seems that everyone in your life wants to play match-maker but few really possess the skills to do so.

If past dating experience has taught me anything it's that the "friend set-up" scenario rarely works. There seems to be 1 thought behind this process. He's single...she's single...let's throw them in an enclosed space and they'll live happily ever after. If only it were that simple... Any zookeeper will tell you that throwing the male and female of a species in a confined area does not guarantee copulation (with the exception of a few friends that come to mind), let alone life long love. If you're extremely lucky the female won't eat the male whole. (Why is it that the female always eats the male? Have you ever noticed that it's never the other way around?)

Yet continuously we seem bound to this ritual. It's as if the joy of love is so strong that it overcomes us with the desire to ensure that all in the world participate in it, whether they're suited for each other or not. Hey...wait...it just occurred to me that the friends that always set me up are the same ones that constantly complain about their spouses. I smell a conspiracy.....

So what's your worst "set-up" date story?

A New Addition

2007-02-11T20:47:00.000-05:00

Well, it finally happened. The last person in the world finally got an ipod...me!

I had to go with the green...it was calling my name. I really enjoy working out with it but I've learned a few things.... while it is possible to dance to Prince while on the elliptical machine, it's not really recommended and I have to resist the urge to sing as people tend to look at you like you have 3 eyes if you're singing "Play that Funky Music" while lifting weights....err, that may have just been my singing.

I'm in dire need of some new work out tunes... anyone have suggestions? Keep in mind, I listen to everything from Alicia Keys to Poison, so all suggestions will be taken into consideration. The more it makes you want to shake your booty, the better.

Another Lesson Learned

2007-01-10T08:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my birthday and like all red-blooded Americans who are deeply attached to their cars, I had to get my driver's license renewed. The DMV (department of motor vehicles) is usually #1 on my list of places to avoid but seeing as I hadn't updated my address (4 years post moving)...I had no choice. This also meant having a new picture taken for my license. I wasn't thrilled about it. Driver's license mug shots...err...pictures are notoriously bad. You're usually pretty lucky if it even resembles you. There's nothing like being asked to show your license while making a purchase, only to have the girl behind the counter giggle hysterically at the photo. My old one was pretty good and I really didn't want to give it up. But seeing that the girl in that photo was a fresh-faced 20-something I didn't think I could get away with it much longer. So, I spent a little extra time on my hair and make-up that morning and picked out a cute sweater to wear. Besides, a girl never knows where she might meet Mr. Perfect...right?

I signed in at the DMV and waited, along with the other 100 or so people there, to be shuffled through the system. Did I mention I waited? And waited? I went to the bathroom to waste some time, did one last check of the hair & make-up and made sure I didn't have anything stuck in my teeth. Nothing like smiling pretty for the camera only to have some remainder of your last meal make an ugly appearance.

Finally, it was my turn. Big smile for the camera. Done. I waited a while longer and then finally received my license. Hey...not bad. Eyes open...no goofy smile. Actually, it was a really good picture. Wait...what's that white stuff on my sweater....around the area of my boobs? It looks like....MY BRA. Yep. Turns out the DMV has improved the cameras they use. In fact, they've improved them so much that the flash snaked it's way through the fabric of my light green sweater and illuminated my white bra beneath. Now, every time I show my license, the person viewing it will also get a nice view of my bra. Victoria's Secret should pay me an advertising fee.

Wait. What's that sound? Ahhh, yes. The gods of the drivers license photos mocking me for being so vain. Another lesson learned.

Bad Mood Rising

2007-01-08T10:04:00.000-05:00

I'm in a bad, bad mood today. Actually it started yesterday afternoon. I can't really point to one cause...which is irritating me even more. I don't relish being in a bad mood... I prefer to be happy, carefree... Not sitting here like a troll figuring out who to spit venom at next. So in an effort to turn around my mood, I'm borrowing a note from Patti-Cakes and issuing a PSA... or a few.

To Little Miss Can't Be Wrong at work....Don't call me 5 minutes before the end of my day to tell me that a process that I created is wrong. Don't proceed to tell me that you've paraded said process around the corporate office before coming to me with your concerns. If you absolutely feel the need to do the above, be prepared to have a better answer than "because" when I ask you why it's wrong. **Update: when proven wrong, please make sure to take your happy little butt back through the corporate office and set the record straight.

To the A-wipe at the Grocery.... berating your wife in the aisle of the grocery store does not make you more of a man, especially while doing it in front of your children. You looked like a complete idiot flailing around, referring to her as a whiny baby and proceeding to make crying noises. She looked haggered and broken. I wasn't hanging out in the frozen foods section for my health. I wanted to tell her that there was a way out. And if I ever see her again, I will work up the courage to interfere.

To My Best Friend...whom I adore...please refrain from calling me during the work day to inform me that we are under a tornado warning...especially when it's really a watch. Warning = sighting, watch = possibility. I really appreciate your concern but you nearly gave me a heart attack.

To the Guy at Blockbuster....you were parked in the FIRE LANE of a busy shopping center, 10 feet from an intersection and impeding traffic. Yes, I was laughing at the fact that the guy in front of me nearly plowed you over as you got out of your car. If you don't like it....those white stripes on the pavement are parking spaces...USE THEM!!

aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh. I feel better already.

The Body Betrayal

2007-01-03T21:16:00.000-05:00

I turned 35 last year, as most of you know. I remember waking up that morning and thinking that I didn't feel much different than I had before I had fallen asleep that night. As the year wore on, I started to notice the subtle and not-so-subtle differences. I could deal with the few stray gray hairs and the fine lines around my eyes and mouth but suddenly clothes that I had just purchased ceased to fit. No matter how much I worked out, no matter how little I ate...the pounds appeared out of thin air. I joined the gym thinking that my hour long kickboxing sessions were no longer going to cut it. I lost a pound or 2 and then nothing....for six months. WTF? Apparently, I woke up on the morning of my birthday but my metabolism stayed in bed...permanently. I had always heard that it was harder to lose weight the older you became but no one ever warned me that it happened overnight.

I stopped going to the gym at some point last month. Oh, I'd stop by about once a week and act like I was working out but my heart wasn't in it. I'd find one excuse and then another to avoid the place for the remainder of the week. Busy holiday schedule, you know. I was disillusioned. I mean why sweat for an hour if it's not making a difference?

Finally, I threw my hands in the air and gave up. Obviously, I had a choice to make...get fat or beg for help. So I begged. Well, actually I handed over a wad of my hard earned money and hired a dietician. Turns out that my years of dieting had taught me pretty much nothing. I was doing everything wrong. Working out too hard, not eating the right portions or the right foods. I mean baked potato chips are great but it's hardly diet food if you sit down with the entire bag. Yeah, I ate salad but when you put 2 tablespoons of salad dressing on it at 15 grams of fat each...well, I could have had a Big Mac. How did I go all these years without knowing (or at the very least realizing) this stuff? And why is there not a mandatory class when you turn 35 to warn you about the betrayal your body is about to hand you????????????

Sleep Deprived from TMI

2007-01-02T08:28:00.000-05:00

I couldn't sleep last night. I've been fighting a bad case of bronchitis and sleeping a lot during the day. But that wasn't the reason. The steriods I've been taking to help me get over it tend to make me hyper...but that wasn't the culprit either.

I phoned my mom last night to wish her a happy New Year and find out the family gossip for this week. She glossed over the family happenings quite quickly and started explaining with great detail the activities of her weekend. This was quite odd as normally the detail would be placed on the family gossip. We talked about the movies her and her boyfriend saw and the restaurants they ate at. Then...the big New Year's Eve plans...
"we were supposed to go over to so-and-so's house (another couple they play cards with regularly) but they wanted us to spend the night and.... I'M NOT SHARING!"

Schreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech. *poof* (sound of circuits overloading in my brain) I shook my head several times in disbelief as her last words resonated in my ears. She didn't just say THAT...did she? No. Can't be. Think, THINK....change the topic. CHANGE THE TOPIC!!! Wait. Why would my mother jump to the conclusion that this couple wanted to swing? It was New Year's Eve. Couldn't it have been that they were just worried about drunk drivers?

"Mom, are you sure that's why they asked you to spend the night?"
"**giggles** Well, they've been a little friendly lately."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! tmi....TMI. Brain overloading. Now, I've been known to let my own freak flag fly high and proud at times. And I'm very open-minded about how others choose to live their lives. BUT...this is MY MOTHER. She's a virgin! She DOES NOT have sex! She DOES NOT know about things like swinging! I don't exactly recall how but I managed to finish the conversation with her. I tried relentlessly to put it out of my head...but to no avail. I laid in bed, shuddering, trying to think of puppies, wildflowers, warm ocean breezes...anything to get this out of my head. Finally, I had to face the truth. My mother knows about sex. I'm off to take an extremely hot shower and wash my mouth out with soap. Can one of you please develop a TMI warning light for my phone? Please???

Happy New Year to all my bloggy buddies! I hope the New Year is filled with PLEASANT surprises for you. And may you never find out that your parents have sex. lol.

Meme #4867

2006-10-23T09:13:00.000-04:00

Since I never finished my '100 things about me' here's a meme for your viewing pleasure....not that you don't already know more information about me than you ever wanted to....

What color are your kitchen plates? Paper. Unless you're coming for dinner, then I'll pull out the heavy duty plastic ones...they come in different colors.
What book are you currently reading? The Historian.
What's on your mouse pad? A reminder that my employer is wonderful. Hmmm, I bet the 650 people laid off last week would beg to differ.
The Thing You Look Forward To the Most? The day my mom finally stops referring to me as the 'unmarried, childless one'.
Your favorite Smell? Fresh brewed coffee on a cold morning. Oh wait...fresh brewed coffeel and the ocean on a bright sunny day. Even sweeter if you're on vacation!
Your least favorite smell? This is a tie between Pachouli, nursing homes and that thing in the bottom of the garbage can. Why is it that something always ends up decaying in the bottom of the garbage can? And mine's so tall I have to climb inside to retrieve it. Yeeeeeck!
What's the first thing you think when you wake up in the morning? Weekdays: 5. more. minutes. On Weekends: aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh *rolls back over*.
Biggest Fear? Not being around to see Parker grow up.
What's most important in life? Having fun.
Chocolate or Vanilla? Depends is it good chocolate or just ok chocolate? If it's good chocolate I'll take it. If it tastes like a chemical experiment gone awry...I'll take the vanilla.
Do you like to drive fast? Yes. Unfortunately in Atlanta you can't do that without running over 120 cars in front of you.
Favorite TV show? Right this second....Ghost Hunters on Sci-Fi. It may not be real but it scares the poop out of me (which I enjoy). Or maybe Gray's Anatomy or Heroes or Ugly Betty. Is it me or did TV get better this year??????
Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, but when I was little I slept with a stuffed elephant that had a pink ball glued on the end of his trunk. I got him at the circus. I still have him somewhere but the pink ball has fallen off.
Storms - scary or not? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease. I love a good storm. I'll walk outside and watch the sky for hours. Until the tornado siren goes off...then you'll find me under the bed. Been there. Done that. Not fun.
First Car? 1976 Ford Mustang. It was white with blue pleather interior. I bought it myself. My friends made fun of me because it wasn't new. They had no appreciation for cars. hmpf.
If you could meet one person? Lee Harvey Oswald...in the time between the assassination and his own death.
What's your sign? Will work for sex. Oh, THAT sign...Capricorn.
If you could have any job, what would it be? I'd really love it if someone would pay me to blog all day, or investigate conspiracy theories, or ooooooooooooo be one of the people on the Travel Channel who review hotels and resorts for a living. Now THAT would be fun.
If you could have any color hair, what would it be? Once you start seeing gray, you don't care as long as it's any color BUT gray.
Is the glass half full or half empty? Actually, it's completely empty right now. Time for more coffee.
Ketchup or Mustard? Ketchup on fries. Mustard on everything else.
What's under your bed? I watched Halloween, Final Destination and Dawn of the Dead last night so, of course, right now Michael Myers, the Grim Reaper and a flesh eating zombie are under my bed.
What screensaver is on your computer right now? A picture from the Kenny Chesney concert taken with my crappy camera. I hope Santa brings me a new one this year. I've been very good. ;) *note to Santa: forget the camera...just bring Kenny*
Do you have any pets? I time-share a miniature schnauzer with a friend. Yes, that means I dog sit for vacations and whenever the dog needs a break from the 2 year old.
The best place you've ever been? Grandma's house :)

The Death of Dodgeball

2006-10-19T06:53:00.000-04:00

A school in Massachusetts recently banned tag, touch football and other unsupervised games during recess for fear of children getting hurt and their parents suing the school for allowing it to happen. This is the same system that banned dodgeball because it was exclusionary and dangerous (exclusionary? isn't that the entire point of dodgeball...to eliminate everyone from the other team?). Other schools around the country have banned tag and one has banned all unsupervised contact games. Aaaaah, yes...America...land of the free...unless you want to play a good game of tag, then you're sh*t out of luck. I'm torn....do I poke fun at the absurdity of the school systems or at our society's litigious nature? Maybe I should point out that banning games at recess that require kids to run around for 10 or 15 minutes is probably not the thing to do while the country is battling an obesity epidemic?

If school systems are really worried about unnecessary lawsuits then there are a few other things I think they should ban (although, in light of recent events, I really think they should invest their time in tightening security):

Jacks. Jacks are sharp and could puncture the skin if a jack rolled away and was stepped on by a passerby.
Pencil sharpeners. Very dangerous. What happens if a child sticks their finger inside one? And those little personal pencil sharpeners...well, they contain blades which could injure a careless child. Not to mention they can be broken apart and the blades used as weapons. (Note: I take no responsibility for any kids who stumble upon this post and take ideas from it)
Pencils. The culprit of many a lead poisoning case by accidental or purposeful breakage.
Hopscotch. With all that hopping and scotching someone is liable to fall and skin their knee. And don't get me started on the little rock used to mark the spot. That's a tripping hazard waiting to happen.
Slides. How many of us have received 3rd degree burns on our bums from going down a slide on a hot day?
Underwear. The cause of many a wedgie incident.
Indian burns, ti*ie twisters, pink belly...enough said.

In short, if the school systems really want to avoid lawsuits I'd suggest that they require that all kids be wrapped in bubble wrap prior to attending school each day. All lawsuits regarding rashes developed from wearing bubble wrap should be directed to the bubble wrap manufacturer.

2006-10-17T07:45:00.000-04:00

She heard the knock on the door and reached to open it. As her hand grasped the doorknob her body began to ache as the hurt once again flowed through it. She didn't need to look; she knew it was him. She wondered how he always managed to appear the instant she'd moved on.

She thought back on their time together. She knew much happier times had once existed. But they were so distant. The memories of him now seemed to all be filled with tears. She fought hard to remember his eyes and their laughter. She loved his eyes; they were expressive like hers. Reading them was the only way she ever knew what he was thinking.

The pain crept in forcing her back to reality. She wished things could be different, like they were when they first met. But she knew why he was here. He didn't want to walk through the door; only to know that it was still open. It was an entryway that his ego used for refueling. Esteem restored, he would disappear back into the darkness until he needed her again.

She looked at the door one last time and then walked away. There was no need to lock it. Turning the knob himself required more effort than he was willing to put forth.

LGIO #1

2006-10-12T22:23:00.000-04:00

It's Friday so that means it's time to get it on. I've been hearing a lot of complaints from my male friends about women who don't like p*rnos...or more specifically women who won't admit to liking p*rn movies. I'll admit I've lied about it in the past. I can't completely sully my 'girl next door' image, can I?

Well...it wasn't exactly a lie. It was one of those late night conversations that you have early on in a relationship...when you're too excited discovering things about your new love interest to care about sleep. The topic of p*rnos came up. My response was that I'd watched them before and it didn't do anything for me. That was the truth as I knew it at that moment. When I was much younger I'd dated an older guy who would pop a movie in occassionally. It truly didn't do anything for me. I was in my early 20s...what did I know? I could practically org*sm on command back then! I didn't need p*rn to increase the excitement...I was already at warp speed.

Said love interest obviously was bent on challenging my previous statement and brought over a DVD one night. I intently watched as the guy in the movie got it on with every woman he met. About 10 minutes into the movie, I could stand it no longer. I was starting to perspire. My entire body was tingling. I needed some lovin' NOW! I stood up, stripped off my clothes and climbed on top of him. It was some of the hottest s*x I've ever had.

So, yes, I enjoy watching a good p*rno now and then. It's still not something I go around telling total strangers (but evidently, I'll admit to it in a public forum, lol). Ladies, do you enjoy it? Do you admit to it or lie about it when asked? And guys, what's the big deal? Does it really matter if we do or don't? Do you use the answer to the question as a barometer of the woman's openess to other things?

Have a burning question you want answered? Leave a suggestion in your comment.

Said Pics

2006-10-12T14:52:00.000-04:00

For those of you who requested pics...both of you. lol.

This is the giant peni...I mean peanut. After all, Georgia is the peanut capitol of the world. And you knew I would have to request a picture in front of a giant phallic object!

Yours truly, Micki and Cassia nicely buzzed before the concert

And afterward, all sweaty from partying!

For Reasons of Avoiding Prosecution.....

2006-10-08T17:10:00.000-04:00

I had a great time hanging out this weekend with my adopted family in south Georgia. We went to the Georgia National Fair (I still haven't figured out why they call it a National fair) and saw Gretchen Wilson in concert. That particular area of the state doesn't allow the sale of adult beverages so we conned someone else into driving and put a cooler full of beer in the back of the SUV. Then we said a little prayer that we didn't get jailed for breaking the open container law by imbibing said beverages on the looooong ride further into the Land of Cotton. Once there, we snuck back to the car several times to imbibe some more. Some imbibed more than others. *coughs* lol. We finally got smart and filled a Coke bottle with whiskey (and a splash of Coke). Which worked until Cassia and I got busted. Ahhhh, I felt like a teenager again. Funny, there's something much more shameful about getting busted by concert security when you're in your 30s... Much more debauchery ensued over the course of the night, but...*ahem*....for reasons of avoiding prosecution those adventures will not be discussed further...

Thanks to Micki for using her super powers to get us backstage! Standing next to Gretchen made me feel like a big cow. She's teeeeeeny tiny and very sweet. The music was great. I hate going to a live performance and discovering that the real talent you hear on their CD came from behind the mixing board. This concert, however, was no disappointment.

As expected I woke yesterday to a slight headache and a feeling that I hadn't slept in 3 days which was a subtle reminder from my body of why I don't drink like that anymore. lol. I crawled to the car, grabbed a Coke, slipped Nickelback into the CD player (which surprisingly didn't bother the headache) and started the long drive back to reality. Realizing that I can listen to Nickelback again, be reminded of someone and not wonder what might have been...made me turn it up a little louder.

***I'll add some photos later. Blogger is being a butt....again...and won't let me post them.

Let's Get It On

2006-10-06T09:09:00.000-04:00

I'm leaving this afternoon to spend a weekend of debauchery with Micki in South Georgia. There will be alcohol and another concert involved. Mommas lock up your sons.

I'm getting bored with blogging about my dating life all the time...and I'm sure ya'll are tired of hearing it too. I've noticed that I have a pretty good mix between male and female, married and single readers. This mix usually promotes a fairly good discussion highlighting the differences between how men and women not only perceive subjects but also how they communicate. Keeping this in mind, I've decided to spice my blog up a bit. Friday's will officially become Let's Get It On Day with topics devoted to getting it on. *Note, words will be "coded" as much as possible to attempt to fool the totalitarian IT regime at some of your workplaces. I'm not looking to turn this into a s*x blog but rather a discussion between the sexes about things you've always wondered about....why does your guy roll over and snooze immediately after wild monkey sessions?, do women really find p*rn videos disgusting?, etc......

Let me know what you think of this and if you'd find it interesting. I've got a few topics in mind to start off but feel free to submit subjects for discussion...a smutty version of random question day, if you will. I'll answer in a future post and open the issue for discussion. And, just a note to the person who emailed me a few weeks ago to declare their fetish about the anesthesia given at the dentist's office....please seek help, you scare me.

Smells like...Desperation

2006-10-04T22:22:00.000-04:00

My mom and I had our normal bi-weekly call tonight which went something like this:

Mom: Have you talked to 'Ohio boy' lately?
Me: No, not since June. Why?
Mom: Well, I was talking to your aunt the other day and I told her if you didn't get married soon that you never will. Your window of opportunity is closing. He's probably the best one you've dated in the last 3 years. She's going to have drinks with his friend later this week to find out his status.

Sirens went off in my head. I'm not sure if I was more upset by the fact that my mom and aunt are plotting the next move in my love life or that my mom has decided I have a mere 3 or 4 years left until she starts referring to me as 'the old maid'. I asked her if, instead of being the old lady at the end of the street with 500 cats in the house, I could possibly have goldfish instead. I'm allergic to cats and well...goldfish won't eat you when you die. She didn't think it was funny.

Great. Why do I get the feeling I'm going to have to call 'Ohio boy' and apologize before this is all said and done?

But Where Will I Find the Boots?

2006-09-27T10:07:00.000-04:00

I'm working on a better post but the work I actually get paid to do is leaving me little time to finish it. So, in the meantime, I'm thinking of getting new pajamas...

What do you think? C'mon guys....wouldn't you want to date a girl who sleeps in Wonder Woman underoos?

Inevitable

2006-09-26T08:31:00.000-04:00

Ever started seeing a guy only to find out he was married? Or that he was cheating on you? No need to threaten to chop him into little pieces and puree him in the blender for now there is a website where you expose the seedier side of his personality.

I guess since the invention of the web it was inevitable that something like this would come along. I'm actually a little surprised this type of site didn't appear sooner. The concept is intriguing. According to the site, you can empower other women by relating your bad experiences and therefore, save them from the heartache that you endured. Admittedly I checked to see if any of my former beau's were in the database (stop sweating - none of you were). But then I wondered, at the point when the deception in the relationship was revealed, would I have entered any information on my former beau? Would I use this site to find information on a prospective beau?

If I met someone who I suspected was married I might be tempted to use the site. Otherwise, I just don't think I would...for one major reason. If experience has taught me anything it's that one woman's trash is another woman's treasure. Just because I had a bad experience with someone doesn't mean that the next woman will have the same experience. Even if a prospective beau was listed on the site by someone as being less than desirable, I'd take it under advisement but it wouldn't necessarily stop me from dating that person. Maybe that makes me naive. I always have had to find things out for myself.

And, by the way, where's the site to expose women who do the same thing to men?

Anywhere But Here....

2006-09-22T10:44:00.000-04:00

Sorry I haven't posted this week. I've been busy cleaning things up at work. Obviously, the penalty for taking vacation is dealing with the work that accumulated while I was out.

It's not been a great week. I spilled an entire cup of freshly poured and steaming hot coffee down my shirt yesterday (a travel cup no less). Which hurt like hell and left an really nice red mark on my breast. I spent most of yesterday morning holding an ice bag on it. Thankfully, I was at home yesterday and not actually in the office. Can you imagine explaining that to everyone who walked past? Hmmm, I guess I could have said my new tattoo hurt...or maybe concocted a story about wild monkey sex gone awry. I can't tell if the mark is still there because evidently I slept the wrong way on my neck last night and can only move my head to the left. Feeling sorry for me yet? lol.

I keep thinking back to vacation. I met a friend while I was there. We had planned to have lunch and take a walk on the beach. The weather, however, had a different plan in mind as the skies were gray and the rain wouldn't stop. Instead we grabbed lunch at a tiny dinner that looked as if it had been there since the beginning of time and then drove to a secluded spot and talked about life as the rain poured down on the roof of the truck and the waves crashed onto the beach. He was intelligent, funny and more handsome than even his pictures led me to believe. *Don't tell him but I let him lead the way out of the restaurant so I could check out his legs ;) I wish every day could be that relaxing. If it was, I don't think I'd care about spilled coffee or neck pains.

For Sale

2006-09-18T20:54:00.000-04:00

House in North Georgia. Willing to trade for house within hour drive of the beach.

Needless to say, I didn't want to come back. If you had this view from your house everyday would you want to come back to reality?

Vacation was great. I forgot what it was like to get sand in certain areas of my bathing suit (yeck) but otherwise I loved my week at the beach. As usual. I don't know why I just don't give it up and move down there. Playing in the water. Picking up sea shells. Fish nibbling at your toes. Watching hot, young studs stroll along the sand. Ahhhhh......

I did figure out one thing while I was there. I will never...EVER...date a man who can't pick up after himself. I am not your Momma. You can take your empty Coke can and half-eaten bologna sandwich to the garbage just as easily as I can. Sheesh.

2,996 Tribute

2006-09-08T19:53:00.000-04:00

This tribute is part of the 2,996 project established by D.C. Roe. This project was designed, not to relive the tragedy, but to celebrate the lives of those who were taken from us. 2,996 bloggers telling 2,996 stories celebrating 2,996 lives.

No person is ever truly alone.
Those who live no more,
Whom we loved,
Echo still within our thoughts,
Our words, our hearts.
And what they did
And who they were
Becomes a part of all that we are,
Forever.
by Richard Fife

Joseph Collison, age 50, WTC North Tower

He moved from Toronto to New York City to follow a dream. And did for 10 shining years. He earned the respect of his friends and co-workers. Wore colorful shirts and displayed a matching colorful wit. He loved his family and spoke of them often to his friends and co-workers. He was someone who always stood beside you; was always there for you when you needed him. As he was there for the little boy he cared for and hoped to adopt. His laughter still echoes in the hearts of those he touched.

There is a lantern from his garden that still shines brightly in remembrance of him.

I didn't know Joe while he was alive but from what I've learned about him while researching this tribute...I think I would have really liked him.

It's A Bird, It's A Plane........

2006-09-07T20:14:00.000-04:00

No, it's a roadable aircraft....or in non-technical terms, a flying car (click on the video to watch a demo). This is sooooooooo cool! Remember those cartoons with flying cars? Or the Tomorrowland exhibits at the amusement park which promised we'd all have flying cars by the year 2000? Well, looks like it may be a possibility in 2009 (for a mere $148,000). And before anyone mentions fuel efficiency.....it gets 30 mpg city/40 highway/40 airborne. How long do you think it will take before they build landing strips beside the highways?

***************************************
Sorry for not posting more this week. I've been busy wrapping up projects at work, suffering through a cold and packing every piece of clothing I own....I'm not sure why. I'll end up spending the entire week in my bathing suit. Ahhh, the mysteries of life.

You'll all be glad to know that I'm feeling more like Stormy lately. I'm taking my pen and paper with me (because I'm a heathen and don't own a laptop). I feel some posts brewing.

A word of warning to all those who would rather not think about it....because I will be gone on 9/11, my tribute as part of the 2,996 project will be posted tomorrow night and will stay up until I return next weekend. You've been warned.

Have You Seen My Muse?????

2006-09-01T07:49:00.000-04:00

I really don't have anything to discuss today. I find that's been happening a lot lately. I think of something interesting, write a few lines about it, deem it uninteresting and abandon the entire idea. I think my muse has left me. If you find him, please send him back. He's about this tall, washboard stomach, built like a linebacker....on second thought, send over any man remotely fitting that description and I'll take it from there! ;)

I have begun the countdown to vacation. This time next week I will be closing down shop and heading to the beach for an entire week of sun, sand and lots of drinks with little umbrellas. It's been a long summer and I can't wait to get out of here for a few days. I may get to meet another blogger while I'm there!

Ok, ask random questions or leave an idea for a post. Have a great weekend!!

Busted!

2006-08-30T21:49:00.000-04:00

Ok, guys. You were pretty sure we had the ability to do it. You've wondered if it's ever happened to you. And you finally figured out how to use technology to prove it.

I don't know how I missed participating in this study. Wait, yeah I do. You had to provide your own partner. Dutch researchers used a scan to study brain activity during orgasm. It seems that large portions of a woman's brain shut down during orgasm, including those controlling movement. Meaning when we moan out your name and dig our fingernails into your back it's sub-conscious and involuntary. (To the men whose heads I've almost crushed between my legs while they were 'south of the border'...I told you it was involuntary!!). It also explains why women need a few seconds of down time afterward. Our brains have to switch back over voluntary control. Maybe that's why we like to cuddle afterward??

The participants were then asked to fake orgasm. The portion of the brain that controls movement lit up like a Christmas tree on the scan showing that the woman was thinking about what she was doing. Voila! Your proof finally in hand.

It still doesn't mean you'll be able to tell when it happens to you. But, as the portion of the brain that controls voluntary movement deactives during a real orgasm, if she jumps up and starts washing dishes immediately afterward....you probably have an Academy award winner on your hands.

For the record, no I haven't....ever. And I won't either. I figure if you can only hit a grounder to center field, I shouldn’t have to score it as a home run. Besides, after a while you’ll think you’re always hitting home runs when you’re really striking out at the plate.

As an aside, the study also determined that men must know they will be physically stimulated in order to orgasm. They needed a study to determine this???

Next Time I'll Throw A Parade

2006-08-28T21:13:00.000-04:00

Traffic was heavy as I tried to pull out of the gym the other night. I waited my turn but it didn't let up enough for me to squeeze in. Finally, the light changed and a woman in a large SUV left a half car length of space for me to pull in. I nodded in appreciation and proceeded to pull into the lane. About 30 seconds passed before the woman started honking her horn, waving her hands wildly. It was fairly apparent to me that either she hadn't seen me nod or she expected me to throw a parade in her honor over her grand gesture of leaving me all of 4 feet of space to pull into. At this point, I could have appeased her by showing some sign of appreciation but I was too busy watching the show she provided by her antics. Her face now bright red from screaming vulgarities, still honking the horn and waving wildly. And finally a one finger salute that I'm pretty sure meant I was number one in her book. All this because she thought I didn't say thank you for being let into traffic.

The whole production started me thinking about what we expect when we do something nice for someone else. Random acts of kindness are our way of showing that we can still act civilized in society. Yet too often we perform them with an expectation of receiving something in return. When I hold a door open for someone whose hands are full, I don't expect to be thanked. Sure, it makes the feeling of helping others even sweeter but I don't do it for them. I do it for me. I do it because I like to know that in my hectic day I can take a few seconds out to help someone else. Shouldn't the feeling of doing something nice for someone else, especially for a total stranger be payment enough?

We Interrupt This Broadcast....

2006-08-24T11:46:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know I promised a post about drunken teens, fake hooters and daisy dukes at the concert. I'll get to it. My mind is elsewhere today.

I quit smoking last week...yes, cigarettes, not crack. I've wanted to do it for a while, tried several times and hadn't been successful. Between my family history of heart disease and the lung I kept trying to cough up I had enough reason to quit. But when the little princess who rules your world starts to mimic your smoking...it's time to stop for good. See Princess below...

I knew it would be hard I just wasn't aware of how hard it would be. There have been moments when I would have sold my soul for a cigarette. Hell, there have been moments when I would have sold your souls for a carton. I have a new found admiration for anyone that has kicked an addiction (and no, your $6 a day Starbucks habit doesn't count). If you've never done it I don't know that you can understand the cravings and I'm not really sure I can even explain them to you.

Anyway, I wanted to apologize for not commenting on your blogs like I normally do. The lack of nicotine has adversely affected my thought pattern. It resembles this now:

want a cigarette, want a cigarette, want a cigarette, damn I'm horny, want a
cigarette, want a cigarette, want a cigarette, oooo cookies, want a cigarette,
want a cigarette, want a cigarette, [cursing over latest source of
annoyance], want a cigarette, want a cigarette......

Evidently, the nicotine addiction was hiding my nymphomania, ability to eat large quantities of sugar, and the ability to cuss in 5 languages!!! Who knew?

Rednecks on a Train - Part Deux

2006-08-21T22:19:00.000-04:00

Well, Blogger has decided that pics aren't necessary for this entry, so on we go...sans pics.

I strolled out to my car today and spotted something black on the floor of the backseat. As I bent over for closer inspection, I realized the object on the floor was my bra. Suddenly, the events of the night before came rushing back to me. Most strapless bras contain rubber around the edges to prevent accident slippage and runaway breast syndrome (where the little buggers jump ship and prepare to flee). After 8 hours confined in this contraption, I was dying to remove it. And did so....at a traffic light....in the middle of downtown Atlanta...much to the amusement of the man in the car next to me. His wife wasn't quite so amused. As Gary eluded previously, I stated I made it home safely. I did not state that all my clothes made it home in the same manner.

The ride on MARTA was actually fun. One word of caution: subway trains sway side to side during travel...kind of like a boat in rough seas...which was not really conducive to traveling with a bunch of drunks. Micki and I were fine as our buzz had worn off by then. However, the inebriation of the man in front of me was given away by his extremely bloodshot, half open eyes and his slow but comical reaction to the train's movements. I knew his eyes were bloodshot and half-open because he kept staring at me, unsuccessfully attempting to pull off that "how you doin" look while mumbling to himself. As we came to his stop he started to make that vurp gesture. You know...the kind where you're not sure if you're going to blow chunks or just burp? I'm just thankful he stumbled off the train before we got to see the finale.

We ate at the CNN center, which was sort of like a mall food court with access to the arena. I do have one question. This place has like 140 TVs all showing different CNN clips. I can understand why the volume isn't on but can someone explain why there were no subtitles or closed captioning? It would have been nice to understand what was being reported. {insert your own joke about media coverage here, I'm still to tired to be that witty} And they were selling 32 oz. beers for $5...what a bargain!!! Unfortunately, you can't take the cheap beer into the arena so we stood by the door still trying to down about 16 oz. of beer. Redneck rule #678 - They ain't no wasting no beer.

The concert was fan-tab-ulous. I've decided I need to download (legally, of course, Mr. FBI man) Dierks Bentley's CD. I didn't realize how many songs of his I knew...and liked. Kenny was like a mosquito on acid...I've never seen one person jump around so much. He sounded great and looked even better. I have a soft spot for singer/songwriters because of the passion displayed in their music. Plus, Kenny's about my age and never been married either (it doesn't count unless it lasts more than 2 months) so I identify with him and his I-want-to-settle-down-but-I'm-not-settling style of music. I'm pretty sure the many beers I consumed during the concert helped my singing voice as I appeared to be able to sing all the words to all the songs and scream "woooohooooo" at the top of my lungs without being told to shut up by the people around me. Of that, I must say I am proud! Fate did smile on me in the form of Uncle Kracker's appearance for about a half-hour set. I love that man's voice. I wish someone would give him a new recording contract.

This post has grown long enough....more about drunk teens, fake hooters, and daisy dukes later.

I Can't Tell If I'm Awake

2006-08-21T07:08:00.000-04:00

or if I'm staring at the inside of my eyelids. We made it back to suburbia safely. Staying up later than usual I can deal with....I think those 32 oz. beers did me in though. I'll tell ya'll more once I actually wake up.

Rednecks on a Train

2006-08-17T20:44:00.000-04:00

Big plans this weekend. Micki is coming up from south Georgia. We are spending Saturday night terrorizing her brother and his band at a local club and then Sunday night we will be with Kenny Chesney, Dierks Bentley and, if there is a higher power in charge of my life, Uncle Kracker will also show up. Someone may want to start feeding Mr. Chesney his vitamins now....he's going to need them. ;)

This is a weekend of firsts for me. This is the first concert I've seen at Phillips Arena. And, for the first time in 11+ years, I will actually ride the Atlanta rail system, aka Marta (slogan: ride Marta, it's smarta....no I'm not kidding). It should be an experience to say the least. I'm not so worried about the ride in as I am the ride home....2 half-plastered redneck women on a train. If no one ends up nekkid or in police custody it will be a good night. lol. Seriously, if it goes well I may actually venture downtown more often.

I'm sure I'll have much to tell on Monday. Have a great weekend!

Corporate Wisdom #578

2006-08-16T21:14:00.000-04:00

Employee Satisfaction........

Subject entire staff to employee satisfaction survey to prove how wonderful the company is to its employees. When survey results indicate that the employees are not the happy little bees you thought they were, force middle management to brainstorm initiatives to ensure the next survey will yield better results. Tada! Announce to all employee's that they will only be eligible for their full raise and/or bonus if the results of the employee satisfaction survey increase by at least 5% each year.

Act surprised when subsequent employee satisfaction surveys result in 100% satisfaction!! Send email to staff announcing that this significant increase couldn't have happened without the hard work of the management staff and "please let them all know what you think of them".

Ummm, do you really want me to do that?????

The Leaning Tower of Garbage

2006-08-15T09:22:00.000-04:00

I think humans must be on the verge of an evolutionary change. I used to be able to tell that the trash can in the kitchen was full, pull out the bag and place it in the container that I am forced to rent from the sanitation company for a bajillion dollars a month.

Lately, I've been overcome by a force that prohibits me from actually removing the bag from the trash can. Instead, when the can appears full, I put my hand in and squish down everything that's in there. I'll actually do this several times until the bag is so full that it requires a crane to remove it from the trash can. I've even found myself placing items (this week an empty 12 pack of Coke and a cracker box) on top of or beside the trash can simply because to place them in the trash can would fill the bag and I'd then be forced to remove it.

This is a new behavior for me. I've lived with roommates who exhibited this behavior and it irritated the crap out of me. I constantly removed the bag from the trash can and gathered up all the Coke cans, wrappers and whatever else landed on the floor due to lack of space in the actual trash bag and hauled it all out. I'm not sure what is driving me to do this now. I live alone so it's not like someone else will come behind me and magically remove the bag.

Is this evolutionary change happening in your house too? Have you figured out yet that I don't really have a post for today?

But Does It Work in Reality?

2006-08-11T10:31:00.000-04:00

In my younger days, I went through a period where I thought friendships with benefits were the perfect situation. Needs were met without the drama associated with relationships. No worrying if he would call, if he heard me burp after downing that beer, what exactly he thinks of me…and all the other normal drama. Of course, it didn’t take long to figure out there were major flaws in my theory.

Sex, to the single person, is like eating Taco Bell. Once you’ve had it you want it all the time until you’ve had enough to tide you over for a while. After a while I realized that all that sex without attachments just left me longing for the attachments even more. Yes, it’s great to find a willing participant to have wild, monkey sex on the kitchen floor. But returning to an empty bed made the reality of being alone even harsher.

There also can be a certain amount of drama associated with these types of relationships. Sometimes one participant starts looking for attachments inside the relationship resulting in an end to the benefits and most often the friendship. So I made a solemn vow that sex without attachment was not on my agenda.

Which was a great idea…..in theory. And would work if there was a steady flow of committed partners in ones life. But without that flow, it just made for more cravings. We’ve already discussed BOB’s deficiencies. So where does that leave a girl? Is it possible to allow a friend certain benefits without ruining the friendship?

Enough Already

2006-08-10T08:09:00.000-04:00

Please excuse me, but I'm going to rant for a few minutes. Before I do, I want to personally thank the people in the U.K. who foiled the latest terrorist plot. You deserve to be knighted.

Dear Mr. Terrorist:
I am sick and tired of you and your attacks. You're not scaring me. If I had the time I'd jump on a plane today just to thumb my nose at you. You're not making me convert to your religious beliefs. If anything, it makes my belief in God stronger. You're not making me change my 'capitalist' ways. I still have a strong desire to have a bigger car (have you not been reading my posts?), bigger house and make more money. I will go to work this morning and do what I need to in order to fulfill my desires. You have accomplished nothing.

The only thing you've proven to me is that you don't possess the ability to think independently of others. You swallow the propoganda handed to you like it's a life-sustaining pill. If you'll stop ingesting the hatred you'll see that people everywhere are basically the same...we're all just trying to live our life in the best way possible.

If you feel the need, keep planning your attacks. You're not changing anything...except maybe the time it takes me to get through the airport. It's ok, our men and women in uniform stuck out in the desert will take care of you soon enough.

In closing....feck off!

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack

2006-08-09T21:10:00.000-04:00

Stop groaning. Seriously, thanks for everyone's kind words yesterday....and JD's slap in the face. He's right...he's always right...fecker. I was laying low because of someone else's psychosis which was wrong. I'm stronger than that. All better now. On with the post.....

I’ve been dating for about 15 years now. Sheesh, that sounds really bad. I’ve dated winners and losers. Ones that I’ve prayed would call and ones that I prayed would never call back. Everyone said “'it will happen when you stop looking" or "when you least expect it". I was always too busy looking or expecting to listen to them. Actually, I always thought it was a load of crap. Something people say to make the loveless feel better. Sort of like when mothers tell 1st time moms that labor doesn’t hurt that bad. Yeah...I’m not falling for that one either.

I made myself a promise recently, in case all the married people who gave me advice were really right, that when I scrapped the bottom of the barrel I would stop. Well, not stop dating but stop looking. I decided at that point I probably wouldn’t care about looking much longer. I hit rock bottom rather quickly after saying that. Evidently, Fate has a wicked sense of humor. So in keeping with my agreement, I've finally stopped looking. No more waiting for Mr. Right to magically appear across the gym, or in the grocery, or on the highway exit ramp….hey, I just said I’ve been at this for 15 years, I had to lower my standards a little...

Ok, Fate, I’m putting all my faith in you. **tapping fingers impatiently** You can send him any time now **more tapping** Seriously, just drop him at my doorstep. **loud, ticking noise** Do you hear that????????? It’s my biological clock…get on with it already!!!

Maybe this is God’s way of teaching me patience?

Bloggy Break

2006-08-08T15:02:00.000-04:00

I'm taking a bloggy break for a few days. Things have gotten a little psychotic in my life (oh, if you only knew how true that statement is). Hang in there misfits....I'll be back in a few.

Miss you all!

Kill Bill Vol. IV....

2006-08-04T08:34:00.000-04:00

...Or the story of how I met BOB.

Many moons ago, a boyfriend convinced me that I needed to buy a BOB...just for fun. Add a little spice...kick life up a notch. I wasn't really sure about it. I mean manual control was ok...but the thought of adding a few bells and whistles to the process did sound exciting. The boyfriend was a little upset that I left him at home while I went shopping but I knew that taking him with me meant getting what he wanted and not necessarily what I wanted. And let's face it....BOB should be all about what I want.

Shopping for BOB was a little overwhelming. There were more bells and whistles than I had ever imagined. Some looked realistic. Some moved. Some looked like they could bring you coffee in the morning. Some...well, I really wasn't sure what some did. Which one? Which one? Finally I settled on a bottom of the line BOB. My thought process being to try it out and then decide which bells and whistles would really make me sing Hallelujah. We'll call this model BILL to avoid confusion.

One day BILL's batteries died. Now I had changed BILL's batteries before...several times so this shouldn't have been an issue. I came home from the store and sat down on the couch, batteries in one hand, BILL in the other. I open BILL's innards and 2 batteries fall out. Certain that BILL required 3 batteries, I look inside. Sure enough, a battery was stuck at the top. Now, how do I get that out? Hmmm....I poked at the battery with a screwdriver. Nothing. Man, that thing was really stuck. *lightbulb appears* I'll tap BILL lightly on the coffee table. That should jar loose the battery. *tap, tap, tap* Still nothing. Well, if at first you don't succeed....tap harder. *WHACK, WHACK, WHACK* I tilted BILL up and something fell out at my feet. As I looked at the piece that had fallen out, a cold sweat poured over my body. Oooooh Nooooooooo!!!! Lying at my feet was BILL's little vibrating heart. I had killed BILL.

I placed BILL's little heart back in, as carefully as my shaking hands would allow, along with 2 fresh batteries. Poor BILL was never the same. He only vibrated when held at a certain angle and sounded like a truck that had downshifted one gear too many. Poor, poor BILL. *sob*

Life Lesson #8467 - never whack a BOB on the coffee table.

You Know It's Time To See Other People When....

2006-08-03T10:49:00.000-04:00

As I brushed my teeth this morning I realized I was getting really turned on. I mean like wild, hot monkey sex turned on. Momentarily, I worried that I had somehow developed a sick dental fetish. Hmmm, my dentist isn’t male…so it’s not that. I am attracted to a nice smile but usually not my own…not that. Then, it occurred to me…the sound of my electric toothbrush is identical to the sound of BOB, my battery operated boyfriend who resides in the nightstand.

About the time I started my blog, I had ended a…ummm…relationship (for lack of a better term). It was pure drama. I was tired and needed a break so BOB and I settled in for a long winter’s nap. Ok, it was spring but you get the idea. BOB was wonderful. Always there when I need him. He knows exactly the right spots to hit. He understands if I’m just not in the mood. He’s ready for duty whether it’s been 4 minutes or 4 days since our last meeting. And…the best part…the only drama occurs when the batteries need charged.

It occurred to me this morning that I may be a little too attached to BOB. I think it may be time to start seeing other people. *sniff, sniff*

BOB, dearest…you’ve been a wonderful companion…but I think…well, I need someone with…strong hands to caress my soft, tan skin….someone who can kiss their way down my neck (yeah, like I was going to leave THAT out)….and well, the girls…they’ve been complaining about the lack of attention. They’d like
some caressing too. Oh, BOB *sob*, I do hope you’ll understand.

Weekend Debauchery

2006-07-31T21:26:00.000-04:00

"Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless." Bill Watterson

I met a few more bloggers this weekend. Kira and her fiance Alex, Doct, and I (oh, and the one who called me an idiot) met on Saturday and spent the day together. I must say that I got through an entire meal at Umezono using only chopsticks...no heathen fork for me!!! And I tried a California roll (thanks Kira) which I really liked. Hmmm, could raw fish be far behind?

Kira and Alex are wonderful. It was really refreshing to see a couple so in love and so respectful of each other's wants and needs. To borrow Kira's words, it was like spotting a Yeti. I now know that the perfect man does exist...it's just a matter of trapping...I mean finding my own.

Doct is just as witty and clever in person as he is in his blog. We spent a lot of time discussing everything from relationships to quantum physics (ok, the words quantum physics were mentioned and I knew what it was...that counts...it does so!). I found him to be just as insightful and intelligent as I had imagined.

I was a little intimidated about meeting and being expected to intelligently converse with a group of people that all have initials after their names (PhD, M.B.A...well, MBA in training but you get the drift). But I held my own throughout the conversations. *pats self on back*

I did find out that Japanese horror movies are terrifyingly graphic, translation is sometimes a little sketchy and that I like anime about sex-starved school teachers and Irish sitcoms that use the words feck and arse. All-in-all good people, good wine and good food make for a great way to spend a Saturday.

3 Questions

2006-07-26T21:45:00.000-04:00

Before I even start this post, if you've read my blog for any amount of time you know that I promote healthy communication between men and women. Understanding how to communicate with the opposite sex is paramount to a healthy relationship. I was asked the following questions recently, by a man. I thought the questions and my answers would foster good discussion. However, this is not about male bashing. I love men and bashing them won't fly well on my blog.

What do you find most frustrating about men?
Male bravado. I love strong men. However, some men take this too far and assume that to be strong they must hide every emotion they have, had in the past or will ever have. Now, I will agree that showing all your cards at once spoils the mystery of a new relationship. However, at some point, the ability to admit that you actually are capable of showing emotion about something other than a football game would be nice. I mean is it really so hard to say "hey, I think you're cool and I'd like to spend some time with you?" I'm not asking you to say the L word. I'm not asking you to spill your emotional garbage. I'm just asking that once in a while you let a teeny, tiny inkling slip that you may possibly, enjoy my company. There, was it that hard? And 7, X...before you even ask...once in a while is defined as...oh...every 2 months.

The biggest mistake men make in relationships?
Not being able to apologize. I'm not talking about the "yes, dear" apology but rather when you really, really feck up. Holy freakin' frog toes...apologize. Saying you're sorry (and genuinely meaning it) will obliterate the resulting anger and tension. Ignoring the situation minimizes my feelings and will only serve to incite me.

The biggest mistake men make in regard to sex?
I've said it before but I'll say it again...not taking their time. There's no rush. No one's going to congratulate you for hitting the finish line in under 10 minutes. Women have to be relaxed in order to orgasm. How am I supposed to relax if you're rushing me through it? (Ok, sometimes rushing is good) Take your time. Explore a little. We've talked about the spot behind my ear before...how will you know it's there if you don't explore? The key word...FOREPLAY, FOREPLAY, F-O-R-E-P-L-A-Y. Even outside the bedroom...massage my neck, kiss me when I'm not expecting it..it's all foreplay and it all reaps the same reward. The benefit is I'll be so worked up I'll be more likely to initiate sex...or I'll rip your clothes off and do you on the kitchen floor. Either way, wouldn't that be nice for a change?

And guys...help a girl out... sharing any dating tips, sources of frustration about women, etc. is appreciated. Making me aware prevents me from making the same mistakes.

*And thanks to my friend for the questions. ;)

Epiphany

2006-07-25T12:16:00.000-04:00

I had been in the midst of chaos all morning. Busy speculating over what if. Wondering if things would turn out as I hoped. Unable to stop the thoughts that scrambled through my head…what if this…what if that…Oh God, then….when an epiphany stopped me in my tracks. I had created my own problem. The only thing I knew for certain lay in front of me. The next step depended upon an answer and until I received it I was at a standstill. My brain, unable to actually stand still, traveled 3 steps ahead of the situation. Thus my discombobulation, as it played out every possible scenario.

What exactly was I worrying about? I had very little control or influence over the situation. Tormenting myself about the possibilities that lie ahead wasn’t going to make the answer arrive quicker and it wasn’t going to change the final outcome. Either it would turn out as I desired or it wouldn’t. Plain and simple. Freed from my aggravation, suddenly my thoughts composed themselves in a rather orderly fashion.

I advise my friends constantly to not spend time anguishing over what if but rather to deal with what is when it actually occurs. Obviously, I need to practice what I preach more effectively. Now, if I could only apply this to my love life..........

I'm Soooooo Confused

2006-07-25T08:45:00.000-04:00

AAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

Well, that didn't help at all. There are too many thoughts running through my head today. I can't seem to grasp on to one before another barrels through and knocks it out of the way. I feel like I may lose my mind if I don't get these thoughts out. But then, usually one in the midst of losing their mind isn't cognizant of the fact so I guess I'm not actually losing it...it just feels that way.

Everyone confused? Good. My work here is done.

*And I'd just like to thank Blogger for being a royal pain in the bootie this morning.

Chopsticks & Blogpals

2006-07-23T20:10:00.000-04:00

I've never used chopsticks before. Basically because, although I can throw a ball from right field to home plate, I never mastered the hand eye coordination required for actually putting food in my mouth using 2 wooden sticks. As if I wasn't nervous enough about meeting my first blogger in the real world, it was kicked up a few notches when the waitress at Umezono brought the salad and chopsticks. Did you catch that? No Western utensils of any kind, just 2 wooden sticks. Luckily, I had the master of Asian culture, Grant, present to teach me how to use them. And, in grand American fashion, I completely gave up after 2 pieces of tomato and a piece of lettuce and begged for a fork like the heathen I am.

Otherwise, the meal and the meeting went very well. The food at Umezono was very good and the waitresses seemed very friendly (no wonder he has a crush on some of them). What was that? You want to know about Grant? Well, sit down...I don't want this to shock you...Grant really doesn't have horns, a tail and carry a pitchfork like many of you may picture after reading his blog. He was very much as I expected...intelligent and funny. And I suspect, under that "I'm a guy give me a grenade so I can blow something up" persona lies a very caring person. Of course, it could just be that the intelligent, funny personality had control that day.... (I couldn't leave everyone thinking you were a big softie, could I?)

After the meal we toured the Asian market next door where Grant introduced me to some of the foods he posts about frequently. [The Pocky (a lightly sweetened stick shaped cookie with frosting) rules! I'm just glad I didn't buy the chocolate ones or I would have eaten the entire box in one setting.] Then we saw Pirates 2 where Grant learned not to ask me loaded questions like, "you don't talk incessently during the move, do you?" My answer will always be yes...whether I do or not is unimportant. Is it me or did Captain Jack sashay more this time?

All in all, I had a lot of fun and it sounds like I may meet more bloggers next weekend. Woohoo!Now, I'm off to practice holding my chopsticks....wow, that sounded bad didn't it?

A Whole Bunch of Nuttin'

2006-07-21T07:43:00.000-04:00

Your True Love Is a Sagittarius

Why you'll love a Sagittarius:

Deep and philosophical, you'll love getting lost in hours of conversation with your Sag.
Your Sagittarius is curious and adventurous enough to keep you interested... not an easy task!

Why a Sagittarius will love you:

You're passionate about a few important issues, a kind of depth that Sagittarius finds very attractive.
You're outgoing, flexible, and up for almost anything. You and your Sag will have tons of adventures together.

What Sign Is Your True Love?

I found this little quiz courtesy of the Peanut Queen. These quizzes are usually fun to do but a little off base in their answers. This one, however, is right on target. My dating experience has been that most men can't keep my interest long enough to perpetuate a relationship. Like the spin I put on that? It's not my fault but theirs. Is it any wonder no one has snapped me up yet?

On a different note, I have a secret to share....come close...closer.....I'm meeting a blogger in person this weekend. Delicious, isn't it? I love sharing secrets. I'm a little nervous because this is the first blogger I've met. You never know if someone's blog personna is the same as their real life personna. Although, I think most of us are pretty open. I feel a little like Steve Irwin will be watching from between the potted plants...."There's one now. Shhh! We don't want to scare the little bugger away. Bloggers are adventurous creatures in their own world, but a little skittish when removed from the comfort of their computer screens. Crikey! There's another. This is a special occasion. Bloggers usually lead a solitary existence. Quite out of nature for them to be found in packs." Ok, I personally apologize to Lisa for the horrible "Down Under" accent. It's really as bad in person as it came across in writing. Wish me luck!

Have a great weekend! OMG....what am I going to wear??????????? (heehee. That's a little female humor.)

Maybe I'l Just Ride My Bike

2006-07-19T21:20:00.000-04:00

Ok, I was kidding about the sex tips. As most of you know I’ve been shopping for a new car. Recently, I bit the bullet and actually went to test drive some of the cars I had in mind. It doesn’t matter what the consumer magazines say if the steering wheel doesn’t feel right in my hands. Just to recap, the previous car post...I am into cars and the shinier the better.

Instead of doing a play-by-play of each dealership, let’s just say I drove a lot of cars. The main thing I learned is that the majority of car salesmen know absolutely NOTHING about the cars they are attempting to sell. I yearned for someone to tell me what tasks all the knobs and buttons performed. Someone who didn’t get a blank look in their eyes when I asked what size engine was in the car. Someone who could tell me about the telescoping steering wheel, the adjustable pedals, or the MP3 capable stereo system. Tell me why your car is so special that I should buy it over another. Nope, not a one could do that. I learned more off the invoices than I did from any of the salesmen.

My favorite salesman was the one at the Mazda dealer. He had an Island accent so I’m not sure where he was from originally. Rather than telling me anything about the car, he preferred to point out to me that Americans have “big bellies” from eating too much, live in huge houses and drive enormous cars. We frivolously spend our money and pillage our natural resources. Now read yesterday’s post before sending me hate mail. I don’t disagree that, on average, we eat too much and I don’t have anything against immigrants. Read my archives if you doubt me. But if you really want me to buy a car from you…DON’T PUT DOWN THE COUNTRY YOU AND I LIVE IN! It really just made me want to see if I could get the SUV I was driving to roll-over.

Now that I’ve completed my rant, we can talk about the cars. The only one that made me say “oooo, shiny” was the Charger. The only problem is that I don’t think I can get one with a sunroof (which I refuse to part with) at the payment I want. The Cherokee drove nice, has a classy type of “oooo, shiny” appeal and would allow me to haul junk around. I’ve learned that hauling junk around is a necessity when you own a house. But it has reliability issues according to the consumer mags and after the problems I’ve had with the current car, I’m a little leery. At this point, I have no idea what I’m doing. Sometimes being an informed consumer is a little stymieing. Suggestions are appreciated. Although…..man, I looked really good driving that Charger.

Solving World Hunger

2006-07-18T22:05:00.000-04:00

You thought I was joking about solving world hunger, didn’t you? I know. It’s ok. I do have an idea and I’m sure someone with actual technical knowledge will come along and blow my theory to bits but at least I’m trying.

Seeing as there’s an obesity crisis of epidemic proportions in the U.S. and an issue with hunger in under-developed nations around the world, I struggled with a solution that would solve both problems. And I’ve finally found it. Doctors remove fat cells from people all the time. It’s called liposuction. So, why can’t they remove fat cells from the obese people in the U.S. and other developed nations and then inject them into starving people in under-developed nations? I mean fat burns into energy, right? Supposedly, that’s why I spend time logging 4 miles a day on the treadmill, bike and elliptical machine. And since we, in the U.S., only have 3 food groups…cow, french fries, and frappachino, there’d be a never ending supply of fat. I’d gladly give my stomach and thighs away to help the hungry. (Notice I didn’t say breasts…the girls stay just the way they are. Added bonus, after the liposuction I’ll look like a short Pam Anderson…heehee) Of course, those poor once-starving people will have cholesterol levels of 800+, but hey, I can’t solve every problem.

On a serious note, I went to the grocery last night. No, I didn’t practice eye contact. There were no men in the store and I’m not glaring at the women just to do research for you guys. If there’s such an obesity epidemic in this country can someone please explain why grapes are $1.70 a pound but I can buy a box of macaroni-n-cheese and a pound of hamburger (an entire meal) for a mere $3? A pound of hot dogs (beak & hoof variety) is $1 but fresh salmon is $3/lb. Is it any wonder why we’re obese? If you’re on any type of a fixed income you can’t afford to eat healthy. I’m not posing a solution; I’m just emphasizing the problem. I don’t see how anyone can expect the obesity epidemic to be controlled until the pricing of healthy food becomes affordable for all to consume.

Tomorrow...freaky sex tips or car salesman. I haven't decided yet. Just typing freaky sex tips in this post should increase my blog traffic x10. :P

This Idiot's Guide to Asking a Woman Out

2006-07-17T20:15:00.000-04:00

On my random question post Grant asked about tips for asking women out. I’m not sure why because I’m a complete idiot when it comes to dating but I guess those who can’t, teach…or something like that. So, here are my tips for asking women out.

*Grant – These are general concepts, please tweak before applying to your usagi. I’d hate to be the cause of an international incident.

Eye Contact
Most people don’t make eye contact anymore. First, it’s a very effective way to make your interest known. The correct amount of eye contact is essential. Too little and she might think you are glancing around the room. Too much will be noted as leering. This skill takes practice and the grocery store is the perfect place to do it. Lots of women not expecting to get hit on. Make eye contact and smile. If they smile back you’re using the correct amount of eye contact. If they call for security or hit you with a jar of cheese whiz, you’re leering.

Confidence
Confidence is an important factor in asking someone out. People are naturally attracted to confident people. However, the level of confidence is important. Too little or too much will ensure a quick check mark in the loser column. Somewhere between “I’m too sexy for my shirt” and “I don’t have a life” should work.

Don’t fear rejection. I know it’s a natural tendency but look at it this way…YOU have a 50/50 chance. Besides, there may be a hot chicka that’s just dying for you to ask her out. You’ll never know if you don’t ask.

Pick Up Lines
If the object of your desire is over 25 she’s already heard every pick up line in the book. Seriously. Don’t think you have the ability to say something that she hasn’t already heard. You don’t. Some of my personal favorites:

Do you know where I can buy some jet fuel? Because if you do I can fly us out of here in my plane.
Do you know how great my hair would feel between your thighs? (I should have slapped that guy but I was too busy laughing at him.)

The pick up line that works every time? Smile and say hello. It will give you leverage over all the other losers who have hit on her. It will also make her think you’re sincere in your desire to get to know HER rather than her body.

Do not use pick up lines in a non-bar setting. I met a guy through an online dating service who seemed really nice and I was interested in getting to know him until our first conversation. He threw every line in the book at me, which included stating that “Angie is a ‘hot chick’ name”. WTF? Angie is not a hot chick name…Tatiana, Gabriella…those are hot chick names. We never got past the 2nd conversation because his use of pick up lines made his professed desire to get to know me seem insincere.

Poo-poo On Your Shoes
Dogs, left unchained, will invariably choose a yard other than their own in which to do their business. They do this to avoid the resulting mess. Obviously, they’ve learned a lesson that we humans have yet to conquer. If this woman is a friend, a friend of a friend, an employee at your favorite restaurant, bar, coffee house, etc, think twice about the possibility of having a mess to clean up in your own backyard if the date (or even the asking of) should fail miserably. I’m not saying it won’t work, it very well might. Just take it into consideration.

That's all for today. Tomorrow I solve world hunger.

Thankfully I Wasn't Naked At The Time

2006-07-14T10:56:00.000-04:00

Picture this: Me, running full steam across my yard in a tank top sans bra, short shorts and no shoes. Why, you ask was I leaving my house in such a manner? To save a 10 lb. dog that was the bane of my existence when I initially moved into my house.

Brewster, the poodle mix in question, and his owner made a habit of using my yard as they pleased when I first moved into my house. One of my earliest memories in this house was watching American Idol on TV while, out of the corner of my eye, spying a man walking across my back yard. It was Bruster's owner walking him on a leash THROUGH MY ENTIRE YARD COMPLETE WITH NEWLY PLANTED GRASS SEED. We had a few small run-ins after that about the fact that my yard was in fact private property and not the community playground. After a while, Brewster's owner took the hint and Brewster has since remained in his own yard or at least his side of the street.

Today, the dogs of my cul-de-sac neighbor, which jump his fence and terrorize the entire neighborhood, decided to make Brewster the victim of their attack. The poor fella, out doing his business in his own yard, was being stalked. I watched from my window as the German Shepherd gave the Springer Spaniel a "watch this" look and took off full force for Brewster. Luckily, his speed and small stature allowed him to make it to the bushes before they could rip him to shreds. As I ran across the yard and street to his rescue it occured to me that (a) I had no shoes on and (b) I had no weapons to pose a defense if necessary. I arrived just as his attackers were trying to get through the bushes. Brewster survived without a scratch but obviously a little shaken from his experience. The attackers sulked off unahppy at their defeat. I tried to talk to Brewster's owner after the attack but he didn't answer the door bell.

I'm feeling pretty cocky having saved a life today and all. But it bothers me that (a) Brewster's owner didn't hear his agonizing yelps for help and (b) Mr. cul-de-sac neighbor doesn't seem bothered by the fact that his dogs terrorize the neighborhood (this is not the first dog they've attacked). Maybe I just don't get it????

National Nude Recreation Week

2006-07-13T11:22:00.000-04:00

Amended Post
I threw the original post on this subject together in a hurry because well, Nude Recreation Week was almost over before I ever knew that it existed. I realized later that I had really shortchanged not only the purpose of the occasion but my own feelings on the subject by abbreviating the post. So, if you read this post and commented yesterday…get over it and read it again. :P

AANR created Nude Recreation Week to promote understanding of the nudist lifestyle. And contrary to popular belief, it’s not a mass orgy. Personally, I’ve always been intrigued by those who practice it. I think it would promote positive self-image by teaching you how to be comfortable in your own skin. Think about it. When we look in the mirror we tend to focus on every imperfection in our bodies. We see the extra pounds, the wrinkles, and one ear that’s a little higher than the other. We spend hours buying clothes, creams and lotions in an attempt to hide those imperfections from others. Now, imagine you’re in a room full of people. Everyone, including you, is naked. And guess what? Not one person is pointing at your abundant bootie or potbelly and laughing. Want to know why? Because their abundant booties and potbellies are visible too. What could be more freeing than that?

So, if you get a chance this weekend, take off your clothes and clean the house naked. You'll create a positive self-image and reduce your stress. And I’m pretty sure your significant other with appreciate it too.

Original Post

This is National Nude Recreation Week. Who knew? I really think participation would skyrocket if they'd put a little more publicity around this occassion. Fortunately, I've decided to help them out by making you all aware. You know...you really have to love America if for no other reason than the fact that we have the coolest national celebrations!

I think I'm going to participate by nude sunbathing. It's too hot to participate in any outdoor activities this week. Well, except maybe water activities, but I get the feeling nude water skiing might hurt a little. Besides, I don't like little fishies nibbling at me when I'm wearing a bathing suit. I really don't think I'd enjoy it any better when I'm not wearing one.

So how do you plan to participate?

Salmon Day

2006-07-12T10:08:00.000-04:00

A big thank you to my friend, Micki, who finally got me to laugh last night by sending me the list of new words below (and one extremely funny soup commercial which I'm sure the fellas would find offensive...hey, it's not my fault if I can heat up a can of soup in the time it takes you to get it on).

BLAMESTORMING: Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.
SEAGULL MANAGER: A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.
ASSMOSIS: The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.
SALMON DAY: The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die in the end.
CUBE FARM: An office filled with cubicles
PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop over the walls to see what's going on.
MOUSE POTATO: The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
SITCOMs: Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What Yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.
STRESS PUPPY: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.
SWIPEOUT: An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.
XEROX SUBSIDY: Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one's workplace.
IRRITAINMENT: Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime example - Michael Jackson, another...
PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE: The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.
ADMINISPHERE : The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from theadminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
404: Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error Message "404 Not Found," meaning that the requested site could not be located.
GENERICA: Features of the American landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, and subdivisions.
OHNOSECOND: That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake. (Like after hitting send on an email by mistake)
WOOFS: Well-Off Older Folks.
CROP DUSTING: Surreptitiously passing gas while passing through a Cube Farm.

Corporate Wisdom

2006-07-10T21:56:00.000-04:00

The mega company I work for in it's infinite rendering of corporate wisdom has decided that we all must have our IM up at all times. The wisdom behind this is that (a) IM provides instant access while I'm in 1001 daily meetings and (b) IM times out after a certain period of inactivity giving Big Brother yet another way of tracking my productivity. This is a reversal of policy over the last 2 years when I have received a bazillion + 1 emails about the need to pay attention during the 1001 daily meetings and that the sounds of keyboards being crunched in the background was distracting and answering "could you repeat that" in meetings because I was working (shame on me for working while at work) instead of paying attention was a waste of the other participants time. Note: these were all employee emails, not directed specifically to me because I am a MODEL employee who spends meeting time reading blogs and responding to personal emails.

I protest at the arrival of each one of Big Brother's new monitoring techniques. Eventually, I give in because of my need for a paycheck but my disgust is duly noted by my manager. Besides, my work allows me not to be tied to the computer so Big Brother has a hard time tracking me. And as is the course of all new technology at big corporations, the employees have already figured out how to use IM for their benefit (i.e., making fun of others during conference calls, getting lunch orders, etc).

The other day I was on a conference call for the hundredth time about a project that should have been wrapped up weeks ago but there were "a few more questions". Being a model employee, I had IM open so that I could be reached in case of emergency. I had already explained to the facilitators of this call that I don't perform the functions in question and that it would probably be a good idea to question the people who are actually responsible for that area. [Am I not brilliant? I'm surprised I'm not CEO yet.] I'm on the call with my partner in crime who is also growing tired of this line of questioning. After repeating my stance once again, my IM dings. While the facilitator is babbling on, I read the IM from my cohort:

Try sign language. English isn't working.

Feeling solidarity in his words of wisdom, I busted out laughing. Which wouldn't have been a bad thing...if my phone had been on mute. The call went silent. I apologized for the interruption and the facilitator went back to babbling while I replied to the IM in a rather scathing manner (while still not on mute so I'm sure they heard the keyboard).

I'm fairly certain the next set of emails will instruct me to not answer IM during meetings because the sounds of keyboards being crunched in the background is distracting and answering "could you repeat that" in meetings because I am working instead of paying attention is a waste of the other participants time. If you work at a large corporation long enough, everything circles back around.

A Late HNT Story - Happy Friday Afternoon

2006-07-07T14:06:00.000-04:00

I can feel your warm breath on my neck as we hug; your strong, muscular arms wrapped around me make my body feel tiny by comparison. Your eyes, kind and generous, meet mine. I can see that you have more in mind than just a hug. Our lips meet for the first time, touching softly at first. They pull apart slightly only to dive back together as the intensity grows. As my hands reach to pull your shirt off you break away. My body aches for you but your touch tells me this night was meant to go slowly.

You stand behind me, unbuttoning my blouse as your lips start at my ear and find their way down my neck. When you reach the tender spot, my favorite spot, I let out a soft moan. You softly laugh in recognition that you’ve found it and memorized it’s location for later. Your lips make their way from my neck to my shoulder as my blouse lands on the floor. I can feel your strong hands rubbing against the soft skin of my arms. I am relaxed from the softness of your touch and, at the same time, on fire from the knowledge that this journey has just begun.

I Don't Do Subtle

2006-07-06T11:27:00.000-04:00

I've been having a problem with my internet connection and Micah from my ISP came out today to fix it. Micah's first words when he entered the house were "Wow, I haven't been out here in about 2 years. I like what you've done with the place." And before we even walked back to my office he uttered, "You have 2 desktops because you work from home sometimes, right?" Huh?? I quickly searched my memory. I didn't remember him but I did remember that a nice looking young stud had come out to fix the connection. How in the world did he remember that?

After a half hour of toying with the modem, router and computer he determined that the box outside had been hit by lightning. Once replaced everything worked perfectly again. We joked around a little and before he left he gave me his phone number in case I had any other problems.

So, here's the question...did he give me his phone number because he really believes in good customer service or because he wants me to call? I can pick up on flirting from a mile away but guys that are more subtle? Well, they'd do better to hit me over the head with a club and drag me back to the cave by my hair. Seriously.

Case in point, a few years back I got in the habit of having the oil in my car changed at one of those quick lube places. One day, the manager gave me his card and told me to call him if I had any problems. I explained the exchange to one of my friends who informed me, to my surprise, that he wasn't really interested in my car. It actually took her 3 days to convince me of this. When I finally did call, sure enough, she was right.

Same thing happened at the gym last week. A guy came over and sat down on the bike next to me even though other bikes were open. We struck up a conversation about the baseball game on the TV in front of us. A few minutes later he left and the trainer came up to ask me if I had gotten his name. Bewildered, I explained that we were just talking about the game. Her response, "Girl, he was flirting with you. Did you not see that?" Obviously not. I'll get the idiot tatto for my forehead now.

Am I the only one with this problem???? Is there a book that explains subtle flirting for dummies????

Random Question Friday Wrap-Up

2006-07-02T23:48:00.000-04:00

Answers to some of the random questions left over from Friday.

Retro Girl asked if I associate color with scent and if I associate any person with a particular scent. I don't think I associate color with scent as much as I associate color with taste. Did you ever try that blue ketchup that they made a few years ago? My mind focused in on the fact that blue = blueberry and ketchup should not taste like blueberrys. It tasted like ketchup which blew my mind further. As far as the scent/people association, yes, I do. The only thing that comes to mind right now is this guy in the gym last week. He is an older man but very well cut. I walked past him while he was getting a drink of water. Well, all I can say is dude....WASH YOUR GYM CLOTHES.

SJ asked how the weekend went. Well, I'm still on it (I'm off work until Tuesday due to the holiday) but so far so good.

Saturday morning was checked out by hot dude in the gym.
Picked up mulch at Home Depot where I spotted ex with his new size 2 girlfriend. Laughed at the fact the she now has to put up with his antics.
Fed chocolate pie by a 20 month old. LMAO! I had chocolate all over me. Anyone want to lick it off???
Made fun of skanky blonde while watching NASCAR
Stung in the head by flying insect. Did I ever mention how much I HATE flying insects? Yes, it hurt. Yes, it's better now.
Had mix of vodka, blue caricao, sprite & triple sec which I refer to as Aruba coolers because that was the first place I had it. (helped with flying insect sting)
Looking forward to cook-outs with hunky BIL of best friend. Dayum, that boy is fine! Recently, out of military. Have I ever mentioned my LOVE of men in uniform? Too bad he's so young....that just means he can be trained, right?

The PQ, who I have missed dearly, asked if I was sure I wanted random questions. Yes, dear. Although they can be scary they are mostly fun to answer. I had an entire conversation about Uranus....what could be scarier than that? Well...not Uranus. I'm sure Uranus is nice.

Catch ya'll on Wednesday. Have a great 4th.

I'm busy, busy, busy

2006-06-30T09:22:00.000-04:00

To my merry bunch of misfits:
I'm a busy little beaver at work today so I leave you with a sexy little video. Since I don't have time to really write a post....feel free to ask random questions if you like. Have a great weekend!

Oooooo, S-H-I-N-Y

2006-06-28T22:46:00.000-04:00

It's that time again. My car, whom I used to love dearly, is dying a slow death. The engine is once again losing compression (girl translation: when you push down the accelerator, it won't go fast) and after replacing several gaskets and a radiator last year I can't justify sinking more money in it. Besides, it's almost paid off which is simply a guarantee that something much more expensive is about to break.

It's time to start doing my homework. I usually pick a few models that I like and do the research into safety, reliability, etc. until I narrow it down to the best choice for the price. Then I start perusing the dealerships for a replacement. This sounds like a very intelligent process. But it all goes out the window when I see something like this:

It doesn't happen at every dealership but eventually it does...and that's when I know I've found my dream car. I call it the "ooooo, shiny" syndrome. I know the minute it hits because I lose control of the ability to distinguish between what I want and what I need. The drool starts to string out the corner of my open mouth. My eyes glaze over and all the blood rushes from my head. I don't know where it goes but I'm pretty sure, if I was a guy, I'd have a woody. This is an instant hit with the salespeople because they know the only words I can utter are "where do I sign?" and "trade-in? Oh, just take it". This is actually how I ended up with my current vehicle. All it takes to seal the deal is a split-second sight of myself behind the wheel. Ever wonder why dealerships have mirrored windows? It's for suckers like me.

You gotta admit, she's sharp. A 6.1L Hemi V8 with 425 horsepower....whoa, I need to go lie down....the blood just rushed from my head again.

Summertime

2006-06-27T07:50:00.000-04:00

I love summer but I think no one enjoys it more than kids. It's a shame as adults we get bogged down with the responsibilities of life and can't take time to enjoy it like we did back then.

I remember……

the last day of school
turning over rocks to see what lives beneath
picking up the grossest thing underneath the rock and chasing the nerdy neighbor kid with it.
playing wiffle ball using cardboard and paper plates as bases
sitting on the sidewalk watching a bug and being amazed by it
catching lightning bugs in glass jars
riding bikes until we got tired
realizing we had to ride ALL the way back home
kool-aid moustaches
lying in the grass searching the clouds for one that resembled something
sneaking out of bed to stare at the stars
reading Stephen King novels by flashlight under the covers to avoid being detected (Ok, that was probably just me)
camping out in the backyard
“Mom, he’s TOUCHING me!”
Being “it”
Picking up foul balls at the baseball diamond and turning them in for a piece of Super Bubble greeen apple gum
sparklers
"Mom, he's doing it AGAIN!"
when staying up late meant 10 p.m.
homemade ice cream

2,996 Voices

2006-06-24T01:07:00.000-04:00

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a beautiful late summer day. The weather had no idea that fall was not far off - or it didn't care - as the day was warm and the sky was blue with just a few puffy clouds. I remember staring at the sky that morning and thinking how inviting it looked; begging me to remain outside entranced in its beauty. I had no idea how important that sky would become that fateful day.

Disbelief was the first emotion to set in. How could this have happened? Then I thought of my family and wondered, in the chaos that followed, if I would see them again. Momentary panic set in as I thought about my mom at work in the defense sector and then a wave of relief as my brain grasped for reality and remembered that she wasn’t at work. Most of all I remember watching the sky through the window that was just to my left and thanking God that the only thing I could see were big, puffy clouds.

I remember watching it happen all over again on the news that night. I remember seeing the debris cloud roll into the streets blocking sight of everything and everyone. I remember people posting thousands of “have you seen me” flyers and again thanking God that I knew where my family was. I remember being numb for days on end and wondering if life would ever feel normal again.

September 11th is a day we will never forget. We will forever remember where we were when it happened and how we felt in the hours and days that followed. This year is the 5th anniversary of that solemn day. A blogger, D. Challener Roe, is trying to put together a tribute to the 2, 996 that fell that day. If you’re interested in participating, go to his blog and sign up. He’ll send you the name of a victim and a link to a website that contains biographical information. I’ve also found that information is easily attainable just by goggling the person’s name. Your assignment is to pay tribute to that person's life, in any way you feel comfortable. Then on 9/11/06, we will all post our tributes - 2996 voices, telling 2996 stories, celebrating 2996 lives.

Please check it out and/or pass on the word. He only has 10% of the bloggers needed and could really use your help to make this a success.

A Question for the Married Ones

2006-06-21T13:53:00.000-04:00

I've noticed a trend with my married friends lately. It seems that they are all coming to me for advice on the same issue. I'm not sure why...being the one person they know who has never been married would seem to make me unqualified to give advice on this situation.

Most of my married female friends complain because their husbands are rarely home. The husbands work full-time, maintain the house and yard and play golf or have some other interest/hobby. This becomes a bone of contention with the wives because they feel that the husbands are not interacting with the kids enough or just not home enough and the wives feel that they are left to make up the difference. Most of the wives do not have activities or interests outside of the home. Their lives are spent working, taking care of the house and the children. They feel guilty if they leave the house to enjoy another activity because working full-time takes enough time away from the house and the kids. Much fighting and crying is done over this issue. Several have threatened to leave and all have given me advice to skip the marriage and just have the kids "because you end up doing it all yourself anyway".

Conversley, I have a male friend who confides in me about his marriage. He works full-time, maintains the house, the yard and has a part-time job that he performs on most weekends (he's in a band so I really feel it's a hobby/job). He maintains the part-time job to help pay support for his 2 children from previous marriages while maintaining his current family in the lifestyle they are accustomed to. His wife criticizes him constantly for not being home or not interacting with the kids enough when he is home. He feels that everything he does is wrong because nothing he does seems to please his wife. He feels guilty for spending time away from the kids but doesn't see a way to maintain a better balance between work and home and still provide for his family. I think his wife feels the same way that the wives do in the situation I described above.

I'm curious if this is typical of the early years of a marriage? It would seem that balance is key to any resolution of this situation. I've tried to convince my female friends to get a hobby or find an activity outside the home to create more balance in their lives. The response I usually get involves the guilt factor. I guess I compare it to work. When I'm burnt out at work I don't perform to the best of my abilities; I don't have the energy to give 100%. After awhile, I start to resent those that I work for and with because they're pushing to expend more energy than I can give at that moment. I take vacation to avoid burn-out (which didn't work this last time). Having an outside hobby or activity is like a vacation in that sense.

At the same time, if both husband and wife are out of the house maintaining the balance in their lives who's watching the kids? Most of you are married, what are your thoughts or suggestions?

WoooooooHooooooo

2006-06-16T09:54:00.000-04:00

Back on vacation today! Love ya all dearly... but I'm outta here.

BAAAAAAD DAY

2006-06-15T09:23:00.000-04:00

It's 9 a.m. and I am drinking a beer. Why would one imbibe alcohol so early in the morning you ask? I'll tell you. I am supposed to be on vacation until 7 a.m. Monday morning. Instead I am hooked into a computer because an incompetent be-otch has decided that she is too busy to do her work. Thus, I had to return from vacation in order to straighten Ms. A-hole out.

My plan for today was: Drive to local store to buy kiddie pool since I don't have access to a real pool. Pick up margarita mix while there. Continue to liquor store to buy tequila. Return home and hook up hose to fill said kiddie pool. Put on bathing suit (two piece to scare the neighbors). Make pitcher of margaritas. Put beach music CD into stereo. Play said stereo LOUDLY. Jump into kiddie pool and tan ALL DAY. It was a really cool kiddie pool too. The kind with a slide and ring toss in case you get bored.

So far today I have: spilled an entire cup of coffee (no, not the small kind...a travel cup) on the kitchen counter soaking everything including the paper towels (you have to laugh at the irony). Sent scathing email to incompetent be-otch reminding her that it is much easier to work if your head is not BURIED IN YOUR ASS. Copied everyone except God on said email so that they would know that I returned from vacation to deal with said be-otch. Spent the last half-hour waiting for our almightly lawyers to respond to me with ideas on how to off Ms. A-hole....oops, I meant on what my next step should be. **Update** Add in dealing with Blogger's seizures this morning.

I AM NOT HAPPY. If anyone would be willing to go to Houston and do something completely nasty to the incompetent be-otch I would be willing to pay.

The Weekend: Frumpy Clothes & Wild Monkey Sex

2006-06-12T21:03:00.000-04:00

Before I start this post, let me just clarify that the bar dancing will be done later this summer in North Carolina or possibly Panama City Beach, if that trip falls through. And Micki, because I know you're lurking, let me just say that I may pour tequila down your throat and drag your butt up with me. No worries, Uncle Bob will take pictures...if for no other reason than to blackmail us at the next family function.

Long Weekend Wrap-Up

Much time spent with Mom shopping for something sexy to wear to her upcoming class reunion. Realization that what I think is sexy and what Mom thinks is sexy are 2 different things. There is a "frumpy factor" to contend with. At a certain age your taste turns to clothing that your female friends find attractive. Note to Amy & Micki: Shoot me if I reach this stage and am still unmarried.
Long discussion of Mom's great figure and her un-willingness to show it off. I tried to explain the theory that men are inherently aware that women are naked under their clothing and that clothing that makes the shape of your figure known actually helps them picture your nekkidness which in turn makes you more attractive. Note: I'm not trying to turn my mother into a hoochie but just get her to stop wearing boxy t-shirts just because they have a cute flower pattern on them. She refused to believe that I might have a clue.
Finally saw The DaVinci Code. Great movie and I think easily understandable by those who haven't read the book. Although, knowing the theories behind it and understanding the intricacies of how it all ties together makes the theory more believable. Still good movie on it's merits alone.
Realized that my mom would not make a good beach bum as she cannot vegitate for more than 15 minutes unless it involves sleeping. Now searching for a way to convince her to relax more often.
Breakfast with my grandmother and my grandather's remaining sister and brother. They love to gather for breakfast when I'm in town. I love that they want to spend time with me and enjoy listening to their stories. Besides, they remind me of my grandfather who I miss very much. For being in their 70s & 80s, they are still very active. I can only hope that I maintain their zest for life when I reach that age.
Listened to Mom chastise my aunt for staying out until 4 a.m. because "nothing good can happen after midnight". Explained the concept of staying out until bar close & then heading to Waffle House (or Denny's in this case) to stave off the hang-over. She is convinced that the phrase "stayed out until 4 a.m. talking at Denny's" equals "I had wild hot monkey sex with someone I picked up in a bar".
Spent an evening with my old friend, Vince, talking and laughing over homemade pasta & too much beer. Did something that I swore I wouldn't but don't regret and now I don't know how I feel. Very possibly proved Mom's point since I didn't make it home until 3 a.m.
Realized that I need to spend less time analyzing the choices I make and more time enjoying life.
Made acutely aware by Mom that, at 35, I'm still not too old to be scolded by my mother and that there are rules in her house. See #7.
Reminded Mom that some day she will be old and need taken care of and if she doesn't want to end up with my brother she might want to loosen the rules in her house a bit.
Spent airplane ride home trying to sleep while seated next to the most annoying mother/son combo I have ever met. It was very obvious that at 45, he still let his mother rule his life. I had to lay down some rules when she started picking lint off my yoga pants.
Spent tram ride from the concourse to baggage claim repeating "Oooo, Grant would like her" in my head. It seems that Monday is J-usagi day in the Atlanta airport.

That's the wrap-up of my long weekend. Missed you all bunches!

Why I haven't posted....

2006-06-07T08:09:00.000-04:00

Why I haven't posted or commented on your blogs lately:

My dog ate my computer
I've downloaded so much porn that my computer refuses to work without being rubbed first.
I was kidnapped by aliens, taken to another planet and forced to re-populate the species with Kenny Chesney. Forced...yeah...right.
All those conspiracy theories at Xdell's blog finally earned me a trip "re-programming" camp.

Truth is, I've been slammed at work the last few days. I'm trying to take a few days off and of course, at the last minute some urgent project came up that had to be completed before I left. I'm beginning to think they plan this. What good does it do to accrue vacation if you can't use it????

I'm outta here until sometime next week. Who knows...on the way back from Ohio I just may get a wild hair up my arse and decided to change my ticket to some locale with the word "Beach" in it's name...Myrtle, Daytona, Miami....aaaahhhh, sand between my toes.....

I'll try to catch up on my blog reading asap ;)

***Summer plans update****

Weekend get-away to Lake Norman to socialize with the Redneck rich-n-famous. I'm getting on the bar at Coyote Ugly & Micki promises to take pictures!!

Long weekend to Panama....within the next month or so....hopefully before the Hurricanes!

A Question for the Guys

2006-06-05T08:06:00.000-04:00

I have a question for the guys. It's perplexed me for some time. You see, women feel the need to get all prettied up in order to attract a guy. We spend lots of money buying products to make our hair silkier, hide our wrinkles and make our eyelashes darker so you'll notice when we bat them at you . We spend hours delving through magazines in pursuit of the right hair cut, more time in front of the mirror making it look just right and we carefully apply make-up to highlight our best features. We spend hours trying on every piece of clothing we own, to compose just the right outfit. We SAY that we do this to make us feel more attractive but, in reality, we do this for YOU. I mean really, have you ever seen an eye lash curler? It resembles a midevil torture device. Do you really think we use it just to impress ourselves? Please.

So, here's my question. I can do all of the above, go out to a bar and maybe get a guy to buy me a drink - maybe. But I can go to Home Depot in a tattered t-shirt, hair a mess - possibily with paint, dirt or grass clippings in it dependent on what home improvement project I'm working on and no make-up and get followed around the store by EVERY male sales associate in there? Now, I know it's their job to be helpful but staring at my ass is not helpful unless the directions for faux painting or changing the oil in the lawn mower are written on it. You guys know that I strive to understand the male species but please...clue me in...what is this phenomenon?????

Wallowing In It

2006-06-02T08:30:00.000-04:00

I ran across a letter last night while I was looking for something to post. I've been super busy at work this week and haven't had the time to write much of anything so I was searching for a quick meme or tag. Instead I found a letter written to the last ex. We'd been dating off and on for a while and it was time that one of us pulled our cajones out and made a move. He told me to decide what I wanted. I knew what I wanted and I spelled it out in that letter.

Of course, it didn't work. If it was meant to work it would have been much easier from the beginning. When it did finally end, I was so fed up with his dart in & then run for cover method of dating that all I could think of was the best way to hide the corpse. The problem is that I've been so busy trying to figure out how to poke his eyes out with a spoon that I didn't take time to wallow. Girls need to wallow when relationships end, no matter what type of relationship it was or how long it lasted. It's how we assess the damage, learn from our mistakes and move on.

If you noticed, I've not been very introspective lately. I think it's because I knew there was a good wallow waiting patiently in that closet in my mind. You know, the one full of the things I don't want to deal with? The one I keep locked? I wasn't ready to disturb it before but I've put it off long enough. Tonight, it will be time to wallow. I'm getting a bottle of wine and a pint of Ben & Jerry's and I will wallow my little heart out. And when the sun rises Saturday morning, I will be prepared to continue my quest for Prince Charming...this time a little wiser for the experience.

The Lingerie Curse

2006-05-31T20:01:00.000-04:00

When I was about 22 years old I was dating a guy that I was head over heels for. Now, I have to confess something embarrassing. I had never bought any lingerie at that point in my life. No fancy bras, no pretty panties, no merry widows, no thigh high hosiery. Everything was pretty ho-hum basic in the undergarment department until then. I figured it was time. We had been dating for a few months and well, guys like eye candy. So I took a trip to the local store and spent hours picking out the right things. Since I was a lingerie virgin, I wasn’t sure what qualified as sexy and what qualified as skanky so it took some time to figure out the right combination. I’ve since learned that most guys really don’t care so the best bet is to satisfy you (words to live by).

I took my bounty home and deliberated what I would wear first. I was excited and couldn’t wait to see the look on his face the next time we were together. When I got home there was a message on the answering machine. He needed “space” and it was over. Out of the blue! Fine. See ya. Bye. The next time I decided to buy sexy lingerie while in a relationship the same thing happened within days of my purchase. After the third experience, I learned not to buy lingerie while in a relationship PERIOD.

I initially thought this was just me but one of my friends had the same type of experience. To this day, I will not buy lingerie if I am even THINKING of dating someone. If I see a sexy babydoll in a store or catalog my first thought is of THE CURSE. Have I pissed off the lingerie gods? I’m not sure what I could have done. Maybe it was that year I went commando? I know…but I was young and I thought it was hot. I’m sorry, o gods of the lingerie. I will never go commando again!

A tag from Poet

2006-05-29T22:21:00.000-04:00

40spoet tagged me last week so away we go.....

5 things in my refrigerator.....
My fridge very rarely contains anything life sustaining. Although, I'm sure there are a few things that could be used for pharmaceutical research.

One plastic container of very, very bad Mexican veggie soup. Blech. It's very nutritious with all kinds of veggies and wild rice but absolutely NO taste. Maybe if I added hot sauce?
Condiments: 2 types of hot sauce (because 1 is never enough), 5 bottles of salad dressings...most of which are blech, 1 thing of lemon juice in the lemon shaped bottle...that thing's probably as old as my house & 2 jars of pickles....mmmm, love pickles.
Beer, Limeade - which is used as margarita mix, and a container of OJ that is sooo old it probably tastes more like home brew than OJ by now. Is OJ supposed to be chunky???
Mangos (is it mangoes or mangos????), pears, lettuce, onion & peppers.
The sustainer of life: Diet Coke

5 things in my closet.....

1 recently purchased very sexy black sundress.
Several pieces of lingerie (remind me to tell you the story of the lingerie curse)
Numerous pair of heels and sandals in varying heights and degrees of pain
5 pairs of boots. Sometimes I think if I ever get married it will be to a man works in the shoe industry as I have a very unhealthy fettish with leather boots..............Sorry, just drifted off thinking about them. Is that drool on my chin?
1 pair of pants that have been hanging in the corner for 6 months because they need hemmed. Damn short legs!!!

5 things in my purse.......

I had to clean out my purse to do this because I never know what will find its way in there.

7 sets of keys. 2 are for the car, 1 goes to the front door (I think), 1 is for a friend's house, 1 is for Mom's house.....the others....I have no idea. I have come to the conclusion that spare keys run away from home and deposit themselves in my purse.
Gift cards. I am the Queen of Gift cards. I have several at any given time. Don't ask...I'm just assuming they find the trail of bread crumbs left by the run away keys.
6 old insurance cards. I'm not even sure why they print these out anymore...isn't it all in the State's database? Along with my Sudafed addiction...
1 piece of Super Bubble bubble gum. I LOVE this stuff...until all the flavor goes out of it. Then it just tastes like you're chewing tire rubber.
$2.....the weekend must be over since I'm almost out of money.

I'm not going to tag anyone but feel free to steal this.

The "Too Tired" Answers - Part II

2006-05-26T11:44:00.000-04:00

What is your favorite sexual position or act and why?

My first thought was to name a position because that’s probably the easiest way out of this question. But I think favorite positions change depending on the lover. What works well with one may not bring on the hallelujah chorus with another. Besides, that would take the fun out of this exercise.

Your question was favorite, wasn’t it? As in can’t get enough? Prefer to do it every time? The answer is simple…foreplay. The problem is that I hardly ever receive enough of it. Most men focus more on the end as their goal. Who can blame them? I mean most can only orgasm once during sex therefore it would make sense that their focus is on the end result rather than the journey to it. However, as women have the ability to orgasm multiple times during sex it would make sense that we prefer to enjoy the journey. And I’m not talking about trying to tune in Tokyo [tuning in Tokyo is a reference to using nipples in a fashion similar to knobs on a radio]. There are a multitude of erogenous areas on a woman. Take time to explore and find them. For example, there is a nerve ending behind my ear lobe that must run straight to my g-spot. A light kiss there combined with a warm breath is almost enough to send me over the edge. You’d never know that unless you explore a little. Running a hand along my side or inner thigh combined with light kisses will also do the trick. Actually, a few light touches anywhere around the genital area will raise my temperature quickly. It’s not about touching obvious areas but the anticipation, teasing if you will, created by touching the areas that aren’t obvious that I enjoy the most.

The "Too Tired" Answers - Part I

2006-05-25T21:33:00.000-04:00

I will answer the other question but this should tide you over in the meantime.

Assuming you are like the 99.9% rest of the women in the world (me included, of course), is there anything that you would change about one specific body part? (Bigger/smaller boobs....longer legs...smaller thighs...stuff like that).

One body part??? This isn’t like poker where I can keep one and give the others back???? Normally I would say a flat stomach but I’ve developed a new theory recently. I’m carrying a few extra pounds for my 5’ 4” frame. I have a friend who’s the same weight as me but a few inches taller and she looks fabulous. Therefore I’ve decided that my problem isn’t weight but rather height. If I was 3 inches taller I’d be the perfect weight for my height. I’m vertically challenged. I’ve decided that should be the next major telethon. Do you know what it’s like to have to climb the shelves at the grocery store to reach that box of cereal on the top shelf? Or to be lost in a crowd because you’re too short to see over everyone else to find your friends? Please give a $1 to help the vertically challenged, won’t you?

So, to answer your question, I’d like longer legs. Way longer…long and svelte.

How did you come up with your blog title?
I’m actually thinking about re-naming it. I came up with much cooler names after the fact. But I’m too lazy to actually go through the work to do it. Back to the question…It seems that at least once a week I hear the following, “you know you opened a can of worms”. It appears that I have a knack for it. My philosophy is that I can open the can now and fix the problem OR let it explode all over you later. Just don’t get upset when I point and laugh at the worm go on your shirt. Since it’s a reoccurring theme in my life, I used it for the title.

Have you ever had to run for your life?
This story seems silly in the context of today’s society with suicide bombers and genocide but, yes, I have once. When I was about 7 we lived on a farm in a fairly isolated area. The house sat toward the back of the property and our driveway was a half-mile long. At that time, my mom didn’t work so she was always there when I arrived home. I got off the school bus that day and made the long pilgrimage to the house. I was about at the half way point when a black Chevelle with tinted windows pulled in the driveway. At first I thought it was just turning around so I stopped and watched it. Then it started down the driveway. I freaked. This is what Mom had warned me about all those times she yelled at me for wandering off in a store or in a crowd. I took off running as fast as I could for the house, knowing that reaching the front door was now a matter of life or death.

Somewhere along the line I dropped my book bag because the weight of it was slowing me down. Thinking I wasn’t going to make it I screamed at the top of my lungs for my mom…anyone to help me. I finally reached the screen door and jumped inside to safety as the car pulled up in front of the house. My heart was beating so loud that it blocked out all other sound. I tried to open the front door but it was locked. Dammit, where was she??

Then, the car door opened and my mind began to race. What was going to appear from inside that car??? A hairy monster?? One of those people that Mom had warned me about that like to take young kids away from their families??? What??? Then I saw it…or should I say her. Turned out that my mom and my aunt had decided to go shopping in my aunt’s new car. She got out of the car, proceeded to the house and asked, “What were you trying to do…race us? We were going to give you a ride to the house.” Yep, Mom, that’s what I was doing.

Too Tired to be Creative

2006-05-25T08:57:00.000-04:00

I think this cold has sucked the creativity from my body (well, what little there was to begin with). I have several half-finished posts lying around and I don't seem to have the ability to do much more than stare at them. I stare. They stare back. It's turned into quite a game. Well, actually not much of a game since they don't have the ability to blink, I obviously lose each time. Maybe I need to take a sick day? I know, greedy isn't it? On the verge of a 3 day weekend and I'm thinking of playing hooky just to get some sleep. Have you figured out yet that I don't have a post for today?

It's random question day, my merry bunch of misfits. Ask anything and I shall answer.

Why I Deserve Hazard Pay

2006-05-23T21:13:00.000-04:00

***GUYS - - - There is discussion of an OB/GYN visit within. You've been warned ***

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret that I usually don’t tell anyone….I work for an insurance company. Yes, the ones that tell you that you can’t have that boob job or penis enlargement surgery. Before we get any further let me just state that I don’t make THOSE decisions and, no, I can’t help you get your claim paid. I can’t even get them to pay MY claims correctly. Having worked in this business for years, I’m aware of and am sympathetic to the controversy that surrounds it. The physician community is always upset either because they are being told how to care for their patients or because they feel they don’t get paid appropriately for the service they provide. I don’t blame anyone for being upset. I see both sides of the issue. I’d just prefer not to be in the line of fire.

I was at the OB/GYN’s office for the yearly discussion of the health of my favorite body part. I’ve been a patient for about 10 years now so we tend to talk to each other like old friends instead of the normal doctor-patient relationship. He is aware of what I do for a living and usually it’s not a problem.

“I see your boss got a big bonus the other day.” Ah, yes, the CEO’s multi-million dollar bonus. “Yep, that’s why they didn’t have money to pay bonuses to the peons this year,” I said figuring that camaraderie was the best approach. I was getting a little nervous because this man had already inserted an archaic torture device to stretch the one part of my body that’s still tight. I was frozen, not from fear of him, but from fear that if I tried to move the damn thing would flip me inside out.

His face was getting red with frustration and I could see his body tense up. From between my legs he leaned over my body, “You know HE’S TAKING MY RETIREMENT!” Whoa, Doc! Calm down a little there. “I’ll be happy to discuss the failings of the healthcare system with you but kindly REMOVE YOUR HANDS FROM MY CROTCH FIRST. You’re confusing my brain by having this argument now. My crotch is used to being felt up AFTER the argument.” He laughed, the tension broke and all was fine in the world again.

Because this is not my first such encounter with unhappy physicians, I decided to request hazard pay from my company. If they’re going to insist that I receive my health care from the very physicians they infuriate on a daily basis then they could at least pay me extra for being in the line of fire. Here’s their reply:

“Dear Ms. [insert name of ungrateful employee here]:
We have reviewed your request for hazard pay and the evidence you provided. Rather than increase your pay we have decided that the best approach would be to cancel your health insurance. Now you are free to receive care from physicians not associated with our company. Because you requested a resolution to this matter, we do not feel the need to reimburse you for other health insurance coverage. We feel this solution benefits all parties involved.
Sincerely,
The Evil HR Department*”

**before I get fired...the request for hazard pay was a joke. The rest of the story is true.

6 Degrees of Separation in Blogland

2006-05-23T07:46:00.000-04:00

While I was searching Retro Girl’s blog the other day I saw a link that looked familiar so I clicked on it. Sure enough, it was someone that used to comment on an ex-boyfriend's blog. I clicked 2 more links and was suddenly at said ex’s blog. It reminded me of the 6 degrees of separation game. For those unfamiliar with American culture, Kevin Bacon is an actor who has appeared in dozens of movies. The game is that you can pick any random actor and by associating people they’ve worked with you will make your way back to Kevin Bacon…supposedly within 6 steps, hence the title.

Realizing that I’d made a connection to myself so quickly…3 clicks. I wondered if you could apply the 6 degrees game to the world of blogs. I clicked on a random blog from someone’s blogroll, Overworked & Underf**ked, [great site by the way, careful opening at work]. On her blogroll, I clicked Lightning Bug’s Butt because he sometimes comments on PQ’s blog. And then, the gold mine. Bug’s Butt had Memphis Steve on his blogroll. Memphis Steve has The Peanut Queen on his blogroll and the PQ has little ol’ me on her blogroll. I had managed to stroll through the blogland and make my way back to myself in a few easy steps.

I thought it must have been a fluke, so I tried it again using Dead Guy, the Cartoon because it was a blog I stumbled upon with, I thought, no connection back to me. Within 2 clicks I was back to Denny's blog who has me linked.

Maybe the big world-o-blogs isn't as big as I think. Maybe people of like-minded thought congregate together. Maybe, given enough time, we would eventually all link each other. Or maybe I'm the Kevin Bacon of the blogosphere. Ummm, I'm not sure if I like that thought or not.

Hot Tea and Tagless Undies

2006-05-21T20:50:00.000-04:00

I'm sick. I'm tired. My throat feels like there's a grapefruit stuck in it. Breathing has been reduced to a single nostril function. I feel like someone kicked me in my sleep and there's a 400 pound man sitting on my chest. I'm jumping into a hot tub and praying that I don't get comfy and fall asleep there. I wish my mom was here. She always made me feel better when I was sick. She'd rub my back until I fell asleep. If I was staying home from school, she'd make me get up out of bed and go lay on the couch in the morning. I'm not sure what the purpose of that was other than to avoid staying in bed all day. But then she'd bring me toast with cinnamon and sugar on it and some hot tea and I'd forget about being forced out of bed and settle into watching Captain Kangaroo or some kid show like that. Aaaah, I never knew how good I had it.

Since I'm in the mood to bitch, can someone please tell me the thinking behind making tagless underwear.....

and then putting a tag in it anyway?
Tagless = sans tag. It's false advertising. They can't say these are tagless underwear because THEY HAVE A TAG. I'm just asking that they be truthful in the advertising. "New! Improved! We moved the tag to the hip so you don't have to stick your hand down the BACK of your pants anymore! We are GENIUSES!"

Destiny, Chance & Reincarnation

2006-05-19T00:04:00.000-04:00

Have you ever met someone and instantly felt like you’ve known them all of your life? It’s more than just having things in common. It's a feeling that that person was in your life all along…you just hadn’t met them yet. I have been lucky enough to have a few friendships like that. From the moment we met it was like we were old souls getting reacquainted in a new era. Like there was history between us before we ever said the first word to each other.

When I was younger I used to believe that this was reincarnation at work. That we had previous experiences together centuries before and that somehow our souls knew how to find each other every time they made their way back to earth. I used to wonder how we knew each other and what adventures we had together in our past lives.

Now that I’m older and a little less romantic in how I think about life, I wonder if it was just destiny that two like minded people who were both looking for a friend happened to be in the same place at the same time. A meeting left up to the chance that had my shirt been red instead of blue or had wine been ordered instead of beer, would have never happened.

I may still be acting a touch romantic. It’s probably just a result of chemistry and timing along with a few shared interests. But still it is kind of nice to think that there’s a larger force in this world pushing us all together. That meetings aren’t left up to chance. That the people in your life are meant to be there for a reason. Isn’t it?

Happy HNT

2006-05-18T00:05:00.000-04:00

I have nothing for you today because I am out hunting for half-nekkid photos of men. There were several requests for more stories like this one for HNT (half-nekkid Thursday for all of you that are new). In response, there's a new link on the sidebar. Take care at work....wouldn't want to get caught peeping, would you?

Now, excuse me, but I have some drooling to do.....

Times Like These

2006-05-17T00:40:00.000-04:00

Today has been a shitty day. The very-costly-almost-brand-new riding lawn mower has decided to do nothing more than sputter and then die. I tried to fix it. The neighbor tried to fix it. We've both decided that the money-grubbing repair man is going to have to come sprinkle fairy dust on it to get it working again. The sod in my front yard has a fungus and is slowly dying. The lawn company that’s supposed to take care of it doesn’t handle fungus…only weeds. They couldn’t tell me this because I’m a lowly woman and why would I want to know that? They decide to tell my neighbor, THE MAN, who has the same problem. Now I’m left wondering what in the hell they have been doing with the shitload of money that I’ve been paying them? The nail pops in the walls are still there. The house needs power washed. And the funding to do all of this is disappearing quickly. To top off the day, the person who I thought would be in my life, as a friend, for years to come has suddenly decided that he no longer desires the position.

Its times like these that the all powerful me, who is happy being single and can deal with anything, feels very alone and very, VERY vulnerable. It’s times like these when I want to curl up in the fetal position, bury my head in the pillow and cry. Until it all magically disappears. Except there is no magic wand to make that happen. It’s times like these when I wish I would have married some poor sap along the way just so I didn’t have to deal with times like these. It’s times like these when I wish I had someone to take care of me. Someone who would hold me and let me cry and tell me it will all be ok. It's times like these when I want to run away and never come back that I realize I'm not as happy as I think I am.

Things You Always Wanted to Know But Were Afraid to Ask

2006-05-16T07:45:00.000-04:00

By royal order of the PQ, here are the first 25 things that you always wanted to know about me but were afraid to ask.....

I don’t eat generic cereal. I poured what looked like a gray hairball into my cereal bowl one morning. I still can’t walk down the cereal isle at the grocery without getting nauseous.
I can change the oil in my car (notice I said “can” and not “do”)
I have a birthmark that runs down the back of my left leg from my butt cheek to my toes. No one ever notices it [Thank God!]
I love popsicles - the kind that come in liquid form that you have to actually freeze yourself.
I have a low tolerance for incompetence.
#5 is why I could never work in a fast food restaurant.
I believe in ghosts and a higher power.
I believe that true evil exists in each of us – if we allow it.
I love fresh fruit and veggies.
One of my friends nicknamed me Stinky when we were younger. There is a story behind this that will never be revealed. Never. Stop asking…I said NEVER!
I like to turn all the lights out in the house and watch scary movies at night.
I sleep with the bathroom light on when I do # 11.
I will stand naked in my back yard while it’s raining…as soon as I get a 6 foot fence.
I believe in fate and chance.
I also believe that I create my own destiny. Go figure that one out.
I won’t eat American cheese unless it’s melted or drink milk unless it contains some sort of chocolate.
Ingesting either of these in the wrong form will make me gag.
I believe that my computer, car and riding lawn mower are out to destroy my financial well-being.
Tequila makes me silly, wine makes me cry and beer seems to get me drunk with no apparent affect on my mood.
I believe that the thirst for knowledge is the sign of true intelligence.
I believe that there is one thing that will make each of us happy and that life is about the journey to figure out what that thing is.
I fear I will grow old without ever figuring out #21.
Watching the movie Twister makes me cry. Don’t ask. I’ve tried to analyze it. There’s no reason.
I read constantly. Sometimes fiction, sometimes non-fiction. It just depends on my mood.
I love peanut butter.

Now I've Done It

2006-05-15T21:21:00.000-04:00

I received one of those chain emails the other day from a friend. You know the ones...you'll be doomed to Hell for eternity if you don't forward this email to 100 of your closest friends within in the next 10 seconds. Now, being the rebel that I am, I never forward those emails. Unless, of course, it's a particularly sadistic joke then I'll forward it to 2 or 3 people simply because the joke is funny. Which probably explains why I'm doomed to Hell, can't find a man worth having a relationship with, and why the neighbors dog gets laid more than I do. However, forwarding emails simply to avoid bad luck is not in my nature. The lastest one caught my attention though. Instead of rendering me a friendless heathen, it said this....

Post This Within:
1 hour- You'll have bad sex
20 min - Your crush will kiss you
15min - Your crush will tounge you
5-10 min - Your crush will ask you out
under 2 min - You will stay with your crush forever

[lol. *snort* Sorry that part about "your crush will tongue you" cracks me up. ]

Did you notice what it said? "Post this within" So it's not bad enough that I have 15 years of bad luck accumulated from all the previous emails that I haven't forwarded but now, they've tied my blog into my sex life? Is that bad sex forever or just once? Because if it's just once....I'll take my chances. I guess this means that blogs have finally hit mainstream culture.

HERE is not THERE

2006-05-14T20:24:00.000-04:00

I read an article the other day that American’s are failing in the bedroom because we don’t communicate our needs to each other. I’m personally guilty of this. I’ll move my hips, wiggle around and do my best contortionist impression to get the angle I desire rather than just say “could you move a few inches to the left?” This person has seen me naked, knows where my few extra pounds are hidden, knows that my mascara is water-proof but not sleep-proof and has seen the little string of drool fall from my mouth and land on the pillow. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t feel comfortable asking this person to move in a way that would bring me to the brink of pleasure. But…there is.

One guy I dated wasn’t particularly that great with his tongue. He thought he was and insisted on starting every session this way. Ever seen someone actually lick the last morsel off their plate? That’s what it felt like except he was all over the plate. I had this mental image that, in his head, he was chasing the last drop of ice cream around the bottom of the bowl. I know enough about men to know that their egos are rather delicate so I decided to clue him into my needs by sound. When he would hit the right spot by accident, I’d moan…LOUDLY. Thinking of Pavlov’s experiment, surely he would understand that no moaning = bad, moaning = good, moaning loudly = motherload. Nope. Then I decided to wiggle around a bit and put myself in a position to where he’d have to hit the right spot. Ever seen those gymnasts during the floor exercise when they sit on the floor and arch their backs so high that their head touches the floor? Needless to say that session ended early due to back spasms. Finally, the next time when he made his way down my body, I decided I had no choice but to talk to him. “Honey, do you think you could maybe target a little higher this time?” “Sure, here ok?” Amazing! A choir sang Hallelujah in my head. He’d figured it out. I was an idiot. He hadn’t taken this as criticism but rather just as me stating what I needed. Why had I not thought about this sooner???

But, I’d spoken to soon. After a minute, he was back to his old position. The voice inside my head was screaming “higher, higher, THAT IS NOT HIGHER!!” I was trying to stay calm but the only thing I could think was “if this one is THE one, I better get used to watching TV during this part…and pray that there’s porn on.” This man needed an anatomy lesson. I sat up and put my finger where I had been desperate for his tongue to be.
“See where my finger is? THAT’S where you need to be.”
“But that’s where I was.”
“No, you were HERE,” I said while waving my finger, “HERE is not THERE.”
“It’s not like I can SEE where I’m AIMING, Angie”

I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. In my frustration I had bruised an ego and there was no turning back. As much as I tried to reassure him there was no getting past or taking back that 2 second conversation. That, my dear sirs, is why no matter how many surveys you conduct, we will wiggle, contort and moan to communicate our needs but we will never actually speak them out loud.

2006-05-11T22:30:00.000-04:00

Another holiday is fast approaching. That means another frantic search for a present for my mom. She’s had a fairly hard life and its times like these when I look for things to get her that she would never buy herself. Some way to pamper her. The problem is that because she’s not had an easy life she is a very practical gift giver. For my 16th birthday she bought me a tire iron and jack for my car. Can’t get much more practical than that.

Because she’s practical and I’m more about whimsy and pampering, she’s managed to return everything I’ve ever bought her. One year for Christmas she told me that she wanted a new robe. It should be thick, floor length and she’d prefer blue. [I had learned to ask for specifics due to previous gift-giving failures.] I found one that was floor length, baby blue and so soft you thought it would melt in your hands. I could picture her sitting on the couch in front of the TV wrapped up in her robe on those cold northern nights. It was perfect. She was delighted when she opened the gift and I was happy because I had made her happy.

About a year later, I was home on vacation when she presented me with the robe and asked if I wanted it back.
Me: “You don’t want it anymore?”
Mom: “No, it’s very nice but it’s too hot.”
Me: “So you did actually wear it?”
Mom: “Once or twice.”
“AAAAGGGHHH,” I said as I slapped myself on the forehead. I had followed her instructions to a T but still failed.

I’ve tried other things but they never work either….
Pedicure – “I don’t think I’d like someone touching my feet.”
Massage – Again…other people touching her body parts
Facial – Skin’s too sensitive
Manicure – “Did you know you can get an infection from those?”

But this year, I have beaten her at her own game. I have gotten her the one thing that she can’t take back and I know she wants. I know she wants it because she asks for it every time I talk to her. I am buying a plane ticket home. She may complain about my hairstyles, question me incessantly about when I’m getting married and return or give back every gift I present to her but she’s still my mom. And I’m going home to hug her….as soon as she finds a break in her schedule.

2 Tacos Please

2006-05-09T21:11:00.000-04:00

I’m glad to see that the money the car insurance company pries out of my hand goes to good use. Which one of you is eating tacos while driving??????

A Tasty Morsel

2006-05-08T15:02:00.000-04:00

I have a very, very early morning flight tomorrow to Raleigh for the day. So, you are on your own tomorrow my dear ones! However, I did leave a tasty morsel for you.....

Your Deadly Sins

Lust: 100%

Sloth: 80%

Envy: 60%

Greed: 40%

Wrath: 40%

Pride: 20%

Gluttony: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 49%

You'll die while in the throws of passion - the best way to go.

How Sinful Are You?

I'm not sure how I ended up with a greater chance of going to hell than Grant. Something's not right there....Recount! I demand a recount!!

I'm Going Straight to Hell

2006-05-07T17:33:00.000-04:00

Isn’t that a song lyric? I’m rather perplexed by my plight. I was on the phone with a friend when I was informed of my future.

Now, let me stop and say that I have recently considered going back to church. Mainly because I’ve felt that something was missing in my life. I was raised in the church. I appreciate the social opportunities offered by church. I have had trouble finding a church that I liked since moving South, mainly because I was raised in a very liberal protestant church. It’s been very hard to duplicate that since moving to the Bible Belt. I digress, back to the story.

This friend has recently started going back to church. There’s a miraculous thing that happens to some people when they return to church after a long absence. Their field of vision seems to narrow. The gray areas seem to disappear and everything is either black or white. Let me explain.

This friend tried to convince me to worship at their church. I wouldn’t have been opposed but it was the line of argument that stopped me. It seems that if the apocalypse was scheduled for today, I would go to hell and this person would go to heaven simply because they have been to church recently and I haven’t. The interesting thing is that this friend continues to break one of the 10 Commandments on a regular basis (let’s say there’s a little more going on than just coveting of thy neighbor’s wife’s ass). Now, while I know that sins can be forgiven if you repent, I could have sworn that repenting meant that the act didn’t reoccur at every given opportunity. But, then…maybe they use a different dictionary than I do.

Maybe I need to re-think this. I can commit any sin I like and still get into the Promised Land, as long as I go to this church every Sunday. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea….

Happy Friday

2006-05-05T06:49:00.000-04:00

Happy Friday and Cinco de Mayo. I have nuttin for ya today. I'll be traveling into the main office today and having lunch with a friend and maybe I'll do some actual work later in the day...Nah. I'll try to read through your posts this afternoon. If my comments don't make sense, it's because I had one to many margaritas at lunch.

I will leave you with an irritating tidbit. A blogger, who lives in my area, has called for a boycott of all Mexican restaurants today in answer to the immigration protests on Monday. Two flaws in your theory, sweetie. A) you're rather unfairly targeting Mexicans...there are illegals from other countries, you know. I know it's Cinco de Mayo but the other cultures don't have cool holidays where we all go to their restaurants. If you're going to boycott, make it all inclusive and B) planning your demonstration at a U.S. owned chain restaurant accomplishes nothing. Illegals don't own that restaurant, Bob Evans does. Actually, the Mexican's should protest that restaurant for providing a very poor example of their native food.

I do have a story to add to this. There's a Mexican restaurant that I used to frequent. A few days after 9/11 I went there with a friend for lunch. There was a memorial service on TV for the fallen. It was hard enough to choke back the tears while I ate given what was being displayed on the TV. I couldn't hold it back any longer when the servers gathered hands in the middle of the restaurant and, in broken English, began to sing Amazing Grace. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. Nope....I'm having a taco for lunch today. Thank you very much.

I'm outta here. Have fun!!

A Story for HNT

2006-05-03T22:16:00.000-04:00

She remembered their first kiss fondly. They had talked for weeks, spending hours at a time every night on the phone getting to know each other. He told her stories about growing up as a military brat. She described what it was like be the farmer’s daughter. They talked about past relationships…the things that had gone wrong, the mistakes that couldn’t be overcome. They knew each other well even though they had never met.

She waited nervously for him at the bar as she listened to a regular discuss politics with the bartender. She heard the door creak and knew it was him before she turned her head. She smiled. He was better looking in person than in the picture she had of him. Broad shoulders, dark hair and a warm smile. They talked more over dinner. His kids, her friends, their lives. When they parted ways, she wondered if she would ever see him again. Things seemed so different in person. The warmth they had developed over those long nights on the phone seemed to have given way to nervousness and fear.

When the phone rang later he asked to see her again. They sat in her garage and discussed their philosophies on life while rain soaked the ground. It was hot and muggy, like mid-summer nights are in the South. The stark coldness of the beer provided some relief. The warmth and ease of the conversation had returned. She felt at home with him. He asked about her favorite book and then about her favorite color. She was in the middle of her reply when he leaned in, placed his hand on the back of her head and kissed her. The quickness of his movements startled her. It wasn’t a hurried kiss but more of the type that couldn’t be held back any longer. Bodies pressed firmly together, drinking each other in. She could smell the spices in his cologne and taste the sweetness of his gum on her lips. Time seemed to stop at that moment. She hoped it would never start again.

You Did WHAT???

2006-05-02T21:34:00.000-04:00

I've been in a bit of a funk for a little while now. I have this urge to do something exciting, out of character, maybe even a little scary. Not "boo" scary but more like "you did WHAT?!!" scary. Or maybe something goofy, like I used to do in high school. Who am I kidding? Like I used to do up until a few years ago. Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis….or maybe it’s just spring fever....or boredom...or maybe I just need a good vacation. The problem is I have no idea what I want to do to scratch this itch. I've started a list but I don't think I've hit on it yet. Any ideas???

Take a week off work and drive up the coast. Stopping at any place that looks interesting. Who wouldn't want to see the world's largest ball of twine?
Sail around the Caribbean island-hopping for a summer
Meet a bartender there named Raul (No, not Denny's Raul)
Get a tattoo
Drive a car around Daytona for a few laps at top speed
Not wreck it into the wall on Turn 1
Lay on a nude beach
Leave on a moment's notice to Rome for the weekend (No, not Rome, GA...the other Rome)
Meet a bartender there named Giovanni
Be an extra in a movie
Learn to drive a motorcycle
Fall in love…again
Walk into McDonald's at 10:31 a.m. in my pjs with bunny slippers on, no make-up, hair unbrushed and demand to be served breakfast
Say yes when someone dares me to do something without thinking about the consequences

Pssst...I got some Sudafed

2006-05-01T21:37:00.000-04:00

Ahhh, spring time in Georgia. Everything is in bloom. It’s beautiful but it’s killing me. My eyes itch and burn; my ears feel like they are stuffed with cotton; I sound like a dragon lady and my nose runs at the most inopportune moment. I feel like my Grandmother because I have to carry a tissue with me everywhere I go.

I couldn’t take it any longer so I went to Wally world (aka Wal-Mart) to get some drugs to put me out of my misery. I pick out an antihistamine along with the 40 other people standing in the 2 foot long aisle trying to do the same thing. And I grab a card for some Sudafed. A card, you ask? Yes, a card. There’s a small problem…well, actually a very large problem with people cooking methamphetamine (aka Meth) in rural Georgia. Any time a trailer blows up it’s not because of faulty wiring or a personal heater but from cooking meth (which evidently is very volatile). Sudafed is a necessary ingredient to cook meth so the lawmakers institute a policy that Sudafed must be sold over-the-counter…literally. You take the aforementioned card to the pharmacy counter and they will give you 1 box of Sudafed.

Now, I’m not particularly happy about this new policy but I understand the reasoning behind it and consider it a necessary evil. So I patiently stand in line at the pharmacy counter. I finally get to hand my card to the pretty, young thing behind the counter.
“Can I see your ID?”

I hand it to her. I find it odd but thought maybe the lawmakers decided that Sudafed is now like alcohol and you must be 21 to purchase it. No, she proceeds to inform me that I must now provide my drivers license number, phone number, birth certificate of first born, wildest place I've ever had sex, and favorite brand of toilet paper in order to purchase Sudafed. The State, in its infinite wisdom, will keep this information in a database should they decide to harass me for anything in the future.

The State? The State? Are you serious? You expect me to give my personal information to the state for them for them to sell to the highest bidder....oops! I mean expect them to keep the information safe? I don’t think so. Ok, I realize the state already has this information. Well, most of it. The whole thing is starting to reek of big brother. I always pictured selling my soul to the devil for something really spectacular...like fame, fortune or a flat tummy and perky boobs...not Sudafed.

I See You

2006-04-30T23:15:00.000-04:00

Lisa wrote a comment the other day stating that she had been lurking on someone’s blog. Lurking, reading but not commenting, is the equivalent of being a “peeping Tom” in blogland. Admittedly, I have lurked on other blogs and taken a brief walk through a stranger’s thoughts. I'm a pervert...I know. Many times I lurk on a new blog for a few days before I decide whether to leave a comment. Sometimes it takes a few posts to determine if you can relate to someone and their experiences or to figure out their sense of humor. Some bloggers take great offense to this. If you’re going to stop by and read their innermost thoughts, you had better leave a comment. I saw one blogger who wrote a post stating that she knew people were lurking on her blog; that “she had ways of tracking them” and “I know who you are”. I think she was kidding. Well, I hope she was kidding. I wanted to read some of her other posts to figure out if this was just her sense of humor but, after reading that, ummm….no. Besides, she had ways of tracking me.

I have given my blog address to a few people I know who have never commented. Some tell me they read it. Some don’t. Some possibly lurk. I guess if I was curious enough I’d fork out some money to a stat counter program that would provide the name, address, social security number, pet’s name, and favorite brand of toilet paper of everyone who reads my blog. Eh *shrug*...maybe…some day.

Personally, I don’t get offended by lurkers. Some people comment on posts. Some don’t. Maybe they can’t come up with a better response than “Yep” or can’t relate to the situation. If I'm willing to write my thoughts on the internet and not block the URL, then I might as well stand naked in front of the window. An invitation to peep, if you will. So…lurk away. Just do me a favor and don’t all do it on the same day or I’ll think no one likes me anymore ;)

How do you feel about lurkers on your blog?

Covering your Backside

2006-04-27T12:25:00.000-04:00

I’m curious…what happened to personal accountability? When did it become obsolete? I must have missed that headline. I really think I would have read an article with the headline, “OK to CYA when you Feck* Up”.

I’ve always been the kind of person to say, “Hey, I made a mistake”. I’ve found that people generally respect that more than the double-talk or outright lies associated with trying to cover your butt. You might get away with double-talk once or twice. If you’re really good at concocting outrageous lies, you might even buy yourself 4 or 5 quick escapes but eventually, the truth becomes apparent. I know you’re covering your butt. You know you’re covering your butt. Can’t we just level with each other?

There’s nothing wrong with admitting you made a mistake. We’re humans. We’re programmed to make mistakes every once in a while. Some of us, obviously, are programmed to do it more often than others. But it’s a fault designed to prevent us from thinking were some type of god to be worshipped by all around us.

Think of how much money and time we would save on government inquiries alone if people would just admit to their mistakes.

“Bill, did you let that intern give you a mouth hug?”
“Yep, I fecked up”

See, it’s so much simpler. Of course, I’m sure Hillary wanted a more detailed explanation but you get my point.

And our personal lives? Think of all the time saved there…. “Honey, did you leave the toilet seat up?” “Yep, I fecked up.” See, no 3 hour argument over how exactly the toilet seat managed to get into the upright position.

And guys, wouldn’t you like to avoid arguments with the girlfriend over why you didn’t call? No more time wasted working on creative answers like “Honey, I had the bird flu last night and couldn’t reach the telephone in my weakened state”. [Sorry, got a little carried away. This might be asking too much].

And at work? If more people would own up to their mistakes at work, I’d have more time to write creative, thought-provoking posts instead of throwing up crap like this. Of course, I'd also be out of a job.

The next time you feel the need to CYA, stop and own up to it. I promise you’ll feel much better. Of course, if you get indicted, divorced, slapped or fired, just remember it was only a suggestion.

*Use of the word feck has been officially licensed to Grant for the remainder of eternity. I borrowed it because I don’t like to use the real word in civilized conversation and I’m not creative enough to come up with my own word. All hail Grant.

Like the rain....

2006-04-26T12:40:00.000-04:00

*This began as a post about how I would love to storm chase in the midwest, but I was pulled off on a tangent...enjoy the ride...

It’s getting ready to storm here. It’s been warm and muggy all morning. The kind of weather that flattens your hair and makes your clothes stick to your skin. It’s suddenly gotten a little cooler and the wind has picked up. The clouds have changed from big puffs of cotton to that dark angry appearance.

I love storms. The adventurous side of me loves to stand by the window and watch Mother Nature release her full fury on the earth. If the weather allows, I’ll venture out the front door to the edge of the covered entry to let the wind rush through my hair and feel the rain drops as they hit my skin.

It’s funny how thunderstorms are like our own emotions. Sometimes a soft, short shower to wash away the old and replenish the soil; sometimes a heavy downpour to provide a deeper cleansing; and sometimes a display of the darker side with whipping winds and stinging rain. No matter the type of fury displayed the ending is always the same. The grass is greener, the sky is bluer and there’s a feeling in the air that everything is, again, all right in the world.

Fantasy Interrupted

2006-04-24T10:00:00.001-04:00

I’m too tired this morning to compose an appropriate post so you get the story of why eyes are half-shut and my brain is turned off.

I climbed into bed, snuggled against the covers and laid my head on the pillow around 11:30 last night. My mind settled into one of my favorite dreamland fantasies...yeah, uh-huh, right there...mmmm...*BOOM* What the...I was jolted back to reality. *BOOM* It was the sound of one of my neighbors shooting off rounds from what sounded like a shotgun. Or a bazooka. All I know is that it was loud and quite close. *BOOM* The adrenaline started to pump and I was too scared to move. I debated whether to take a look outside or not. Although I live in redneck central it is a bit unusual to hear late night gunshots unless it’s a major holiday. I decided it was best to check it out. At least, if I heard a window break, I would know whether to grab the baseball bat I kept beside the bed or just run like hell. I peeked through the blinds in my bathroom window. Everything looked peaceful. The neighborhood dogs started to bark so I decided to go the garage to have a look out the front. I left the lights off because it's impossible to see out the windows with them on. I looked down the street…nothing. I looked toward the woods…nothing. The dogs were still barking. Not that tongue-waging “I just saw a deer” bark but the “there’s something strange and harmful on my turf and I must protect my master” bark. I held my breath and watched the woods...waiting for some strange animal or maniacal half-human with a machete to emerge. Nothing.

As I stood beside the garage door and peered into the darkness, something behind me scurried. Holy crap! I whipped around, cursing myself for not bringing some form of protection with me...or at least shoes. I searched the darkness for any sign of movement but saw none. Whatever it was, was as frightened by the sound of me as I was of it. Still, IT was between me and the door to the house. I had no choice but to run for it. I took a deep breath and ran as fast as I could while dodging the car and the riding lawn mower. I'm sure I looked as graceful as a moose on roller skates, running at full speed, trying to let only the balls of my feet touch the floor...less chance for whatever made that noise to bite me or run across my feet. I hit the portal of my freedom and slammed the door. The force of it popped open the pantry door and I nearly peed my pants. Well, if I had been wearing pants…

I cursed the neighbors and made a mental note to go to Home Depot to get whatever would kill the thing in the garage. I spent the rest of the night dreaming about the gigantic machete wielding mouse that has taken up residence in my garage.

Would I or Wouldn't I

2006-04-20T13:58:00.000-04:00

The male DJs on the radio station I listen to made an interesting statement the other day. It seems that men, regardless of their marital or relationship status, decide within 5 minutes of meeting a woman whether they would have sex with her. They may have no intention of actually acting upon it, but still, they make the distinction of whether they would or would not. One DJ is young and not in a relationship; the other is around my age, divorced and now in a serious relationship so I figured they had a fairly broad spectrum for this analysis.

Being single, I’m sure that, subconsciously, I see every available man as potential dating material but I don’t know that I make an immediate conscious decision about whether I would throw him down on the bed. Obviously, there are some guys that I immediately think, “Mmmm, I’d like to get me some of that”. Some where I think, “I’ll never be that desperate”. And some that float from one category to the other or fall somewhere in between. What was my point? Oh, yeah...I don't think I do this with EVERY guy I meet. Maybe I do and don’t realize it? The more I think about it…maybe I do????

My question to you is this:
Guys – is this true?
Girls – Do you do this too?

Be honest...I won’t think bad of you either way….Really, I won't...I’m just curious ;)

Last Time I Checked It Was My Blog...

2006-04-19T14:00:00.000-04:00

Most of you realized that I was being facetious in my last post. I do not own a Sinulator, nor do I plan to own one. Some, however, did not realize that I was being facetious. Evidently, it is considered intelligent to disuss sexual positions and post HNT on your blog but it is a sign of low intelligence to sarcastically discuss emerging technology. Who knew?? In honor of the great overseers of my morality (or immorality depending on your view), I have decided to take the remainder of the week off to work on my submission to Penthouse Forum*.

(This is an example of sarcasm. I'm not really submitting anything to Penthouse...although, there was that one time....)

Ain't Nothin Like the Real Thing, Baby

2006-04-19T07:00:00.000-04:00

Warning: The post below should not be read if you are squeamish about discussing sex. Actually if you are squeamish about sex you probably shouldn’t read my blog at all. The website linked below is a little explicit…please be careful at work.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have solved my dating woes. I no longer need a man as I have found the sinulator. For $139.95 (plus shipping, sales tax and I’m sure a sin tax in some states), the good people at Sinulator will send me a dildo complete with USB hook-up and software. I can create an account for my new rabbit-eared friend (what a great Easter present!) and then anyone who knows my nickname can go in and, ummm, well, er…rev me up. Yes, guys, you control the action! If I don’t want to give my nickname to anyone I know, I can peruse their network and pick up a play mate (why do I keep envisioning Comic Book guy from the Simpsons??). It’s even wireless so I don’t have to sit at the computer to use it. Finally, someone found a way to make casual sex safe. And all these years I’ve been making men take me to dinner first. What the heck was I thinking???!!! If only I had known about this before my date with “the puker”!

You can even take a virtual tour of the dashboard controls. What man wouldn’t enjoy using this? It’s like combining sex with NASCAR and PlayStation. It even has cool “Bawm-chicka-bawm-bawm” porn music.

But wait, I wouldn’t want to leave the men out….
For $129.95, men can buy an interactive sleeve which allows them to control a Sinulator, using their, ummm, er…own thrusting action. NASCAR, PlayStation, porn music and an interactive sleeve….it’s every man’s dream….

But wait, there’s more…
The Sinulator has been rigorously tested (how did I miss that job ad?) and meets FCC Standards so it’s safe for both home and OFFICE use! (I can hear it now… “Excuse me, ma’am, but is your skirt vibrating?”)

Good-bye eharmony…hello Sinulator!

One Frog Down (aka The Puker)

2006-04-18T06:22:00.000-04:00

She walked into the restaurant hoping that she was the first to arrive. The restaurant was fairly empty and it was easy to tell that her date was not yet there. She was thankful they had agreed to meet for lunch. It provided an easier escape mechanism in case of false advertising or homicidal tendencies. The door to the restaurant opened and her date appeared. They said hello and hugged. She wondered what it was about first dates that made everyone want to hug. Maybe it was the relief of finally meeting in person, “Oh, thank God you don’t look like a mutant space alien…let’s hug.”

As her friends suspected, he was a little more talkative in person. He explained to her his aversion to mayonnaise. Not only could it not touch anything on his plate but it couldn’t be on her plate either. He didn’t like to smell it. They managed to make strained small talk until the food arrived. When lunch was served she noticed that her date’s tanned skin suddenly started to turn white. He tried not to run over the waitress as he excused himself to the bathroom. She couldn't remember ever making a man physically ill before. It was a first in her book and worthy of notation. “Waitress, can you bring me a beer?” This was definitely an occasion worth celebrating. Her date returned, still a little green, to explain that he had “a few beers” the night before for a friend’s birthday. An experienced drinker herself, she thought "I got tanked" probably would have been a better descriptor. She tried not to hold it against him but it wasn’t the best first impression he could have made.

They tried to find some common ground as they talked. He explained that, at 40, he lived in an apartment with a roommate...not because of a divorce or child support payments but because he still enjoyed the "bachelor pad" lifestyle. He raced off to the bathroom again. When he returned she politely offered to cut the date short but he said he’d be fine so they went on. She had chosen not to tell him about the piece of toilet paper stuck to his chin. He explained that he still "partied like he was 29" and that he didn't expect to give it up any time soon. She wondered if this was the truth or a blow off. Either way, it didn't matter. It saved her from the "I want to get married right away and have lots of babies" speech that she used in these situations. Suddenly, he pushed back from the table and she prepared herself to jump if necessary. She was thankful they had decided to sit outside…if necessary, he could at least lean over the railing. Once again, he raced to the bathroom.

When they parted ways, he said he’d call. She was relieved. One thing she had learned was that “I’ll call you” was international dating code for “don’t expect to hear from me”. It was obvious this one was not yet ready to settle down. Oh well, she thought, that’s one less frog I have to kiss.