I’ve got to get my hair cut. It’s been approximately five months since my last real trim, and my hair is showing it. The last time, I had layers cut into it so I could do that cool thing with the curling iron; you know, the flipped-out and bouncy-ends look. And it did look nice, when I did it. The key word here is when. In the morning, it’s just too damn hard to be all into the beauty routine. If the morning wasn’t so early, maybe there would be more of a chance I’d be willing to spend more time in there working on my look. But, alas, the morning continues to occur in the morning. I can barely manage to put on moisturizer and a couple of concealer dots on my face. Curling my hair? Um, not quite a priority.
So when I go in for this haircut, I think I want them to chop it off just above the shortest layer. This still leaves my hair long, which is nice, because I like having long hair again and I’m not ready to go short just yet. I’ve also got to get my bangs trimmed again, so I’ll have that done, too, when I go.
The problem is, I don’t know where to go to get a haircut. I never stay with one salon or stylist. I breeze in for one cut and leave, never to return again. I have yet to be really impressed with the job anyone’s done on my hair. Most of the time, I stop into a Supercuts or Great Clips when I have a spare minute and just have it cut there. Of course, that’s a major crapshoot. Sometimes it’s pretty good; I got the long layers cut at a Great Clips before the wedding, and they did look nice. Other times, I walk out with crooked bangs and chopped-up ends. Poor Greg is often charged with straightening out the mess some of these places have made of my bangs. In fact, I find it much better if I just have him trim my bangs for me, since he takes his time and cuts them straight every time. But since the long part of my hair needs to be cut, it’s probably in everyone’s best interest if I just have a professional do it.
Why don’t I complain or tell the stylist I am not happy with the way they cut my hair? Simple: I am too shy, and I hate talking to the stylist more than I have to. Isn’t that so stupid? I mean, I am paying this person to cut my hair, and let’s face it — trimming hair and bangs isn’t really all that hard. Logic says that I should get a decent job when I sit in their chair. I don’t understand myself. I don’t know why I just “take it,” as it were, and pay and leave feeling “ehh” about how I look. All because I ‘don’t want to cause a fuss’ or ‘I don’t want to hold anyone up.’ Like I said already: SO STUPID.
I guess it just boils down to this — I have an issue with sitting in a chair in front of a big mirror for a long period of time, with some person I don’t know touching my hair. I look at myself under that salon light and my skin looks all yellowy and sick; and my hair color always looks so washed out and dull. “Yay, I love looking at this sickly-looking person for an extended period of time!” And I am not comfortable having to make small talk while they do it.
Call me anti-social or unfriendly, but I’m just not good at knowing what to talk about with hair stylists, and when they talk too much, I grow weary. I think I might even unintentionally do that rude sigh that means, “Yeah, now shut up already” when they talk to me. See? I’m not good at this.
Anyway, today one of my goals is to locate a middle-of-the-road salon somewhere in this area and make an appointment to go get this taken care of. I’m trying to change my ways. I want to look put-together and nice, and I want to be a more friendly and normal person. So hopefully, when I go for this upcoming haircut, I will be polite yet assertive; if the cut looks bad, I’m going to say something. Well…to be honest…I will TRY to say something. Baby steps.
Later this weekend, I plan to color my hair. By myself. You don’t want to know how I feel about sitting for hours with chemicals on my head and paying the outrageous price of having my hair colored at a salon. (Insert that Sideshow Bob shudder here: ‘Euuuuuuhhhh.”)
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Yes, I WOULD Like to Butter Your Bread: A Report on Butter
By: Lisa
Although we often take it for granted, butter is a product we probably could not live without in modern society. It is created when one "churns" fresh or fermented cream or milk. Other aspects of the process of making milk have been lost to us, since a select few were elected into the secretive Butter Guilds of the Middle Ages, and their ancestors are mostly all dead today. The production of butter happens behind closed, locked and rusty doors, and most Americans today are unaware of where their butter comes from. According to a Gallup poll, 97% of Americans believe butter is made by Indian women; these women offer forth the prized butter by nudging it with their breasts towards the receiver.
Mostly, cows produce the milk we make butter from here in the US of A. However, the milk of sheep, goats, buffalo and yaks can be used to produce butter. To derive milk from a yak, one must either collect the sweat from a yak and mix it with artificial butter flavoring, or attempt to squeeze its yak nipples to release sweet yak milk. It's a little-known fact, but yak milk has been used for centuries as a salve for pink-eye. This is not recommended for most individuals, as yak milk is known to carry germs that cause cataracts in about 80% of people, especially those with O-blood types. Science has yet to find an answer to this, but work is being done everyday. Researchers predict that by 2032, we will definitely understand what yak milk does to our bodies, regardless of our DNA makeup, race, blood type or species.
Butter can trace its storied origins back to the days of Mesopotamia, 9000 BC--which is also known as the Paleolithic era. Butter was discovered by accident, when the cavemen of the day accidentally left milk in the sun and it spoiled. One of them probably mixed it up and it got thick, and another one must have eaten it. And then, most likely, they had diarrhea and/or profusive vomiting because the recipe hadn't been perfected yet.
Eventually, butter and its recipe evolved. An interesting fact is that archeologists digging in parts of Ireland and the far Northern parts of Europe have discovered "Bog Butter," which is ancient butter buried in peat bogs. In the days of peat bogs, the people would pack butter into barrels and bury them in the peat bogs, because the peat bogs were cool, awesome places to store food. A bog is sort of like a swamp, but without alligators or scary banjo music.
Legend holds that Marie Curie sustained her energy while creating the X-ray by drinking hot melted butter each morning and giving herself butter enemas every night before bed. Below, Madame Curie works in her lab while a beaker of butter melts in the foreground:
According to several newspapers of the day, she was quoted as saying, "A woman can achieve anything through butter ingestion, whether it is climb a mountain, bring peace to a nation or invent machines that can see inside a person. I feel my invention will one day revolutionize science, and allow doctors to check patients' insides for large butter deposits; which, for the good of mankind, should be harvested and distributed fairly."
Butter suffered its most crippling defeat in 1869, when a French chemist invented margarine. Until this point, butter was eaten at every meal, and schoolchildren were alloted three pats of butter upon entering the schoolroom every morning. A short-lived trend was Sesame Butter Logs, which were simply large squares of sweet cream butter rolled in sesame seeds and eaten with a fork and knife. Tavern on the Green removed its Sesame Butter Logs from its menu after several victorious Union soldiers, who had just returned from winning the Civil War, came in and ordered a baker's dozen of Sesame Butter Logs, and each of them passed out cold from chest pains in Central Park upon leaving the restaurant. All of them later died.
Ever since margarine raised its hydrogenated-oily head, butter has been declining in popularity. By the 1950s, margarine had surpassed butter as the pale yellow, spreadable condiment of choice for most of the world. Since then, butter has staged several attempts at a comeback, the most notable of which was the song "Popcorn" by the popular band Hot Butter. Although "Popcorn" was a hit, and it even appeared in several episodes of The Waltons and was a huge hit with school proms and formals, it failed to have what the French would call "staying power."
Butter became popular again with the advent of microwave popcorn in the 1980s, but it was soon revealed that most of the "butter" in these bags was actually a combination of oil, yellow food dye and leftover scrambled-egg pieces, boiled down into a paste. When disgraced pop duo Milli Vanilli announced their undying allegiance to butter, whether it is spreadable or whipped, that was the final nail in butter's coffin and butter, which had been awarded Best Soft Food in a national award contest, fell from popularity almost overnight.
Today, you can find butter in most refrigerators in North America, where it is usually quarantined from the rest of the food inside a butter-dish. Although margarine and Fabio-Spread(TM) have taken over butter's reign over our hearts, one stone-cold, hard fact remains: the phrase Bread and Margarine will never sound as right as Bread and Butter.
Butter, my friends, will always be our nation's bread and butter, as it were.
For more information on butter, visit the American Butter Institute's website at www.butterinstitute.org.
By: Lisa
Although we often take it for granted, butter is a product we probably could not live without in modern society. It is created when one "churns" fresh or fermented cream or milk. Other aspects of the process of making milk have been lost to us, since a select few were elected into the secretive Butter Guilds of the Middle Ages, and their ancestors are mostly all dead today. The production of butter happens behind closed, locked and rusty doors, and most Americans today are unaware of where their butter comes from. According to a Gallup poll, 97% of Americans believe butter is made by Indian women; these women offer forth the prized butter by nudging it with their breasts towards the receiver.
Mostly, cows produce the milk we make butter from here in the US of A. However, the milk of sheep, goats, buffalo and yaks can be used to produce butter. To derive milk from a yak, one must either collect the sweat from a yak and mix it with artificial butter flavoring, or attempt to squeeze its yak nipples to release sweet yak milk. It's a little-known fact, but yak milk has been used for centuries as a salve for pink-eye. This is not recommended for most individuals, as yak milk is known to carry germs that cause cataracts in about 80% of people, especially those with O-blood types. Science has yet to find an answer to this, but work is being done everyday. Researchers predict that by 2032, we will definitely understand what yak milk does to our bodies, regardless of our DNA makeup, race, blood type or species.
Butter can trace its storied origins back to the days of Mesopotamia, 9000 BC--which is also known as the Paleolithic era. Butter was discovered by accident, when the cavemen of the day accidentally left milk in the sun and it spoiled. One of them probably mixed it up and it got thick, and another one must have eaten it. And then, most likely, they had diarrhea and/or profusive vomiting because the recipe hadn't been perfected yet.
Eventually, butter and its recipe evolved. An interesting fact is that archeologists digging in parts of Ireland and the far Northern parts of Europe have discovered "Bog Butter," which is ancient butter buried in peat bogs. In the days of peat bogs, the people would pack butter into barrels and bury them in the peat bogs, because the peat bogs were cool, awesome places to store food. A bog is sort of like a swamp, but without alligators or scary banjo music.
Legend holds that Marie Curie sustained her energy while creating the X-ray by drinking hot melted butter each morning and giving herself butter enemas every night before bed. Below, Madame Curie works in her lab while a beaker of butter melts in the foreground:
According to several newspapers of the day, she was quoted as saying, "A woman can achieve anything through butter ingestion, whether it is climb a mountain, bring peace to a nation or invent machines that can see inside a person. I feel my invention will one day revolutionize science, and allow doctors to check patients' insides for large butter deposits; which, for the good of mankind, should be harvested and distributed fairly."
Butter suffered its most crippling defeat in 1869, when a French chemist invented margarine. Until this point, butter was eaten at every meal, and schoolchildren were alloted three pats of butter upon entering the schoolroom every morning. A short-lived trend was Sesame Butter Logs, which were simply large squares of sweet cream butter rolled in sesame seeds and eaten with a fork and knife. Tavern on the Green removed its Sesame Butter Logs from its menu after several victorious Union soldiers, who had just returned from winning the Civil War, came in and ordered a baker's dozen of Sesame Butter Logs, and each of them passed out cold from chest pains in Central Park upon leaving the restaurant. All of them later died.
Ever since margarine raised its hydrogenated-oily head, butter has been declining in popularity. By the 1950s, margarine had surpassed butter as the pale yellow, spreadable condiment of choice for most of the world. Since then, butter has staged several attempts at a comeback, the most notable of which was the song "Popcorn" by the popular band Hot Butter. Although "Popcorn" was a hit, and it even appeared in several episodes of The Waltons and was a huge hit with school proms and formals, it failed to have what the French would call "staying power."
Butter became popular again with the advent of microwave popcorn in the 1980s, but it was soon revealed that most of the "butter" in these bags was actually a combination of oil, yellow food dye and leftover scrambled-egg pieces, boiled down into a paste. When disgraced pop duo Milli Vanilli announced their undying allegiance to butter, whether it is spreadable or whipped, that was the final nail in butter's coffin and butter, which had been awarded Best Soft Food in a national award contest, fell from popularity almost overnight.
Today, you can find butter in most refrigerators in North America, where it is usually quarantined from the rest of the food inside a butter-dish. Although margarine and Fabio-Spread(TM) have taken over butter's reign over our hearts, one stone-cold, hard fact remains: the phrase Bread and Margarine will never sound as right as Bread and Butter.
Butter, my friends, will always be our nation's bread and butter, as it were.
For more information on butter, visit the American Butter Institute's website at www.butterinstitute.org.
It’s been a few days since Jen tagged me to list 7 songs that I am currently listening to, so here is my Report on 7 Songs I am Into Right Now:
1)“Down with the Sickness” by Richard Cheese. We played this song at our wedding reception and we think that because of the lounge-y sound, many of our guests didn’t realize just what lyrics were being sung. There we were, all eating a lovely dinner and feeling the fun wedding-buzz, and there’s Richard Cheese singing, “Get ready to die!” as the soundtrack to the scene. I had such a giggle over this. Anyway, I keep having this song stuck in my head—in the car, in the shower, while cleaning, while working—so that’s why it’s numero uno right now for me.
2)“The Fool You’re Looking For” by Shemekia Copeland. This is a great driving-and-singing song. My best friend introduced me to Shemekia Copeland last year when she sent me a CD for my birthday. It’s not the usual type of music I listen to, but Shemekia can sing. Really well. Plus, her songs more or less tell stories, and I love when songs can do that.
3)“A Sailboat in the Moonlight” by Billie Holiday. It’s just so sweet. And of course, it really makes me want to go sailing in the moonlight sometime—preferably on a quiet lake or river somewhere, without huge waves or sea monsters, which would really spoil the mood.
4)“John the Revelator” by Depeche Mode. When I had to commute to my old job, I’d play this really loud in my car on the freeway. I just liked how it sounded at full volume, and it served as a decent soundtrack to my frustration and anger at the other drivers. (How nice. A road rage song!)
5)“Bell, Book and Candle” by Eddie Reader. This is another woman who can sing beautifully. I like her because her voice is crystal-clear, and she doesn’t trill or do anything showy. She just sings. Her songs also have stories, and strong imagery. This one in particular reminds me of “Practical Magic.”
6)“Entropy” by VNV Nation. Yay for VNV Nation! I might be presumptuous here, but I am not sure a lot of people have heard of this band. I’d say they are in my top 5. Anyway, this song is unique, loud and has a great beat. I guess it’s another song I’d throw into the road rage category, if only for the tone of the song. But it has a great build towards the loud, crazy-dancing part of the song. I’ve got a story brewing in my head that has this song as the soundtrack.
7)“Little April Shower” from Bambi. I don’t know how I can go from VNV Nation to Bambi, but there it is. I have this song on my MP3 player and I never seem to skip it when it comes on. I think it’s because I love the way the song is written, and the way the singers use their voices to make the ‘rain.’ It gets kind of violent and loud as the storm picks up, which works great for the movie. I mean, life is lovely and there are flowers and cute little bunnies and skunks, but there’s also hunters who come striding into the forest and kill Bambi’s mother.
My turn to tag! Go for it, Fraulein N, Leezer, Tinabellina, Trish, Paul, Smackadocious and Lengli.
1)“Down with the Sickness” by Richard Cheese. We played this song at our wedding reception and we think that because of the lounge-y sound, many of our guests didn’t realize just what lyrics were being sung. There we were, all eating a lovely dinner and feeling the fun wedding-buzz, and there’s Richard Cheese singing, “Get ready to die!” as the soundtrack to the scene. I had such a giggle over this. Anyway, I keep having this song stuck in my head—in the car, in the shower, while cleaning, while working—so that’s why it’s numero uno right now for me.
2)“The Fool You’re Looking For” by Shemekia Copeland. This is a great driving-and-singing song. My best friend introduced me to Shemekia Copeland last year when she sent me a CD for my birthday. It’s not the usual type of music I listen to, but Shemekia can sing. Really well. Plus, her songs more or less tell stories, and I love when songs can do that.
3)“A Sailboat in the Moonlight” by Billie Holiday. It’s just so sweet. And of course, it really makes me want to go sailing in the moonlight sometime—preferably on a quiet lake or river somewhere, without huge waves or sea monsters, which would really spoil the mood.
4)“John the Revelator” by Depeche Mode. When I had to commute to my old job, I’d play this really loud in my car on the freeway. I just liked how it sounded at full volume, and it served as a decent soundtrack to my frustration and anger at the other drivers. (How nice. A road rage song!)
5)“Bell, Book and Candle” by Eddie Reader. This is another woman who can sing beautifully. I like her because her voice is crystal-clear, and she doesn’t trill or do anything showy. She just sings. Her songs also have stories, and strong imagery. This one in particular reminds me of “Practical Magic.”
6)“Entropy” by VNV Nation. Yay for VNV Nation! I might be presumptuous here, but I am not sure a lot of people have heard of this band. I’d say they are in my top 5. Anyway, this song is unique, loud and has a great beat. I guess it’s another song I’d throw into the road rage category, if only for the tone of the song. But it has a great build towards the loud, crazy-dancing part of the song. I’ve got a story brewing in my head that has this song as the soundtrack.
7)“Little April Shower” from Bambi. I don’t know how I can go from VNV Nation to Bambi, but there it is. I have this song on my MP3 player and I never seem to skip it when it comes on. I think it’s because I love the way the song is written, and the way the singers use their voices to make the ‘rain.’ It gets kind of violent and loud as the storm picks up, which works great for the movie. I mean, life is lovely and there are flowers and cute little bunnies and skunks, but there’s also hunters who come striding into the forest and kill Bambi’s mother.
My turn to tag! Go for it, Fraulein N, Leezer, Tinabellina, Trish, Paul, Smackadocious and Lengli.
Friday, March 23, 2007
A Report on Owls
By: Lisa
Owls are our nocturnal allies in the war against pests and rodents.
This is my favorite species of owl-- the Barn Owl (above). I like them because they're the one type of owl I have seen close-up on several occasions. I saw them on field trips to Holmdel Park and Poricy Park when I was younger, and I always thought they were amazing-looking. The people who taught us about the many powers of owls made them sound pretty awesome, too, so that helped. I especially appreciate that their faces look like a sliced apple, because I really love apples!
Owls are not messengers of death. Some people think they are. Actually, they can save us from death! How do they do this? Well, they like to eat things like rats, mice and bugs that could be carriers of disease. In Arizona, the Elf Owl can snap off the stingers of scorpions and then eat them; plus, they have an adorable name and I would like to put a little green felt hat on any elf owl I encounter.
Owls have sharp talons that can scratch our delicate human skin; we should also shield our eyes when grappling with an owl, since owls are non-descriminate when it comes to the clawing and scratching. They will claw your fucking eyes out if you aren't careful.
In addition, owls have an ability to push bones, scales and fur through their digestive system in a unique pellet form. Owl pellets are found in most major forests today. Just look for the balls of excrement with little bones sticking out of them the next time you are in the woods. Chances are, it's the fruit of an owl's colon! In fact, owl pellets are so impressive to some people that they will encourage youngsters, such as Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts and 4-H campers to go into the woods and collect said pellets for careful dissection. Apparently, some people think this is a good way to see little mice bones and stuff; other people figure it's just as easy to go to a museum and look at clean bones. Either way, it should be noted that owl pellet lore has a solid place in our human society; for better or for worse.
Owls have been in movies, too, so they are definitely well-known to people who never go to zoos, the forest, or read books or pay attention in science class. Harry Potter has a very gorgeous snow owl that he sends off to do his evil bidding; and it's hard to imagine the Clash of the Titans without Bubo, the mechanical owl. There are other owls, but I am not really interested in looking them up right now.
Did you know the Mongolians protected owls? That's because there was a legend that Ghengis Khan was hiding from his enemies in a hole or something, and a barn owl came and sat on a branch above him. His enemies came past and didn't look near the owl because they figured owls were evil back in those days, and they couldn't imagine that a guy as calm and reasonable as Ghengis would want to be anywhere near an owl. So, they went away and Ghengis lived to be a barbarian another day; and from then on, the owls were respected as protectors.
One thing to be aware of is the fact that the Great Horned Owl can be kind of a dick. Because they are bigger than other owls, they often push the little owls around (sometimes eating them). They'll swoop around with their big wings and sharp beaks and scare the hell out of people and animals. In fact, the Great Horned Owl sometimes attacks and carries off little dogs and cats. This is NOT COOL of the Great Horned Owl. Frankly, I don't see what makes him so "Great." If you see a Great Horned Owl, it's OK to spit on one, provided your eyes are safe behind a protective mask of some sort, and you are wearing chainmail to deflect its claws.
During his presidency, FDR kept a barn owl he affectionately named Frances in his closet, and he would force Eleanor to consult the barn owl for advice. Eleanor was highly allergic to owls, so she hated going to Frances' closet, but she did it anyway because she was a loyal first lady. It is rumored that Frances suggested Eleanor style her hair that way. As for FDR, he would take Frances out to dinner, letting the elegant bird ride on his shoulder. The back of his wicker wheelchair even had a small "pot" on it for Frances to defecate in, should the need arise. During state dinners and events, Frances would wear a festive bonnet decorated with eucalyptus leaves and corn. His high-pitched shrieks were quite familiar to visitors to the White House in those days!
If you are lucky enough to wake up with an owl perched on your bed, this is a sign that you will have great success in business and dealings with foreigners. The priests in the Roman Catholic church often appoint owls as choirboys in the underground churches. You didn't know there were underground churches? Well, there are. And owls are everywhere down in those places. Plus, there is fudge for everyone and the incense smells of apple-cinammon! You have to check one of these places out sometime.
In conclusion, owls are benevolent, watchful friends to most humans. The Great Horned Owl can just kiss my ass, though; also, the information I included above regarding Frances and FDR is nothing but a blatant fallacy. The greatest power owls have at their cunning disposal is their ability to make me lie... a lot.
The End.
By: Lisa
Owls are our nocturnal allies in the war against pests and rodents.
This is my favorite species of owl-- the Barn Owl (above). I like them because they're the one type of owl I have seen close-up on several occasions. I saw them on field trips to Holmdel Park and Poricy Park when I was younger, and I always thought they were amazing-looking. The people who taught us about the many powers of owls made them sound pretty awesome, too, so that helped. I especially appreciate that their faces look like a sliced apple, because I really love apples!
Owls are not messengers of death. Some people think they are. Actually, they can save us from death! How do they do this? Well, they like to eat things like rats, mice and bugs that could be carriers of disease. In Arizona, the Elf Owl can snap off the stingers of scorpions and then eat them; plus, they have an adorable name and I would like to put a little green felt hat on any elf owl I encounter.
Owls have sharp talons that can scratch our delicate human skin; we should also shield our eyes when grappling with an owl, since owls are non-descriminate when it comes to the clawing and scratching. They will claw your fucking eyes out if you aren't careful.
In addition, owls have an ability to push bones, scales and fur through their digestive system in a unique pellet form. Owl pellets are found in most major forests today. Just look for the balls of excrement with little bones sticking out of them the next time you are in the woods. Chances are, it's the fruit of an owl's colon! In fact, owl pellets are so impressive to some people that they will encourage youngsters, such as Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts and 4-H campers to go into the woods and collect said pellets for careful dissection. Apparently, some people think this is a good way to see little mice bones and stuff; other people figure it's just as easy to go to a museum and look at clean bones. Either way, it should be noted that owl pellet lore has a solid place in our human society; for better or for worse.
Owls have been in movies, too, so they are definitely well-known to people who never go to zoos, the forest, or read books or pay attention in science class. Harry Potter has a very gorgeous snow owl that he sends off to do his evil bidding; and it's hard to imagine the Clash of the Titans without Bubo, the mechanical owl. There are other owls, but I am not really interested in looking them up right now.
Did you know the Mongolians protected owls? That's because there was a legend that Ghengis Khan was hiding from his enemies in a hole or something, and a barn owl came and sat on a branch above him. His enemies came past and didn't look near the owl because they figured owls were evil back in those days, and they couldn't imagine that a guy as calm and reasonable as Ghengis would want to be anywhere near an owl. So, they went away and Ghengis lived to be a barbarian another day; and from then on, the owls were respected as protectors.
One thing to be aware of is the fact that the Great Horned Owl can be kind of a dick. Because they are bigger than other owls, they often push the little owls around (sometimes eating them). They'll swoop around with their big wings and sharp beaks and scare the hell out of people and animals. In fact, the Great Horned Owl sometimes attacks and carries off little dogs and cats. This is NOT COOL of the Great Horned Owl. Frankly, I don't see what makes him so "Great." If you see a Great Horned Owl, it's OK to spit on one, provided your eyes are safe behind a protective mask of some sort, and you are wearing chainmail to deflect its claws.
During his presidency, FDR kept a barn owl he affectionately named Frances in his closet, and he would force Eleanor to consult the barn owl for advice. Eleanor was highly allergic to owls, so she hated going to Frances' closet, but she did it anyway because she was a loyal first lady. It is rumored that Frances suggested Eleanor style her hair that way. As for FDR, he would take Frances out to dinner, letting the elegant bird ride on his shoulder. The back of his wicker wheelchair even had a small "pot" on it for Frances to defecate in, should the need arise. During state dinners and events, Frances would wear a festive bonnet decorated with eucalyptus leaves and corn. His high-pitched shrieks were quite familiar to visitors to the White House in those days!
If you are lucky enough to wake up with an owl perched on your bed, this is a sign that you will have great success in business and dealings with foreigners. The priests in the Roman Catholic church often appoint owls as choirboys in the underground churches. You didn't know there were underground churches? Well, there are. And owls are everywhere down in those places. Plus, there is fudge for everyone and the incense smells of apple-cinammon! You have to check one of these places out sometime.
In conclusion, owls are benevolent, watchful friends to most humans. The Great Horned Owl can just kiss my ass, though; also, the information I included above regarding Frances and FDR is nothing but a blatant fallacy. The greatest power owls have at their cunning disposal is their ability to make me lie... a lot.
The End.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Number of meetings I attended today: 2
Number of meetings I attended during which my fly was down: 2
I was in such a hurry to get into those meetings there was no time for zippers. I’m hopeful that my shirt was long enough so that when I was sitting down, no one could tell what the deal was down there on my pants-front. Oh, well.
Well, work is still going well, and I have no complaints. They’re keeping me busy. The people are very cool. I found out the company is about 80% women. One of the large meetings this morning was standing-room only, with only 5 men in attendance. I don’t think I’ve worked anywhere with this type of ratio before, but I can say this: it was also an efficient and productive meeting. I hate to be sexist and make an assumption that it was because women were running the thing, but I have to wonder. There was also freedom to laugh and crack jokes, and I noticed several of the women having short side-conversations with one another as the meeting went on. An hour went by very quickly. In comparison, at my previous job: meetings were almost always run by men because there were very few women in management there, and our meetings went on forever and I would cross out my notes a few times during the course of the meeting because no one could decide on anything. Blah. I’m glad to be gone.
In other news: Indy has Valley Fever. He got it from inhaling the Valley Fever spores in the dry soil at some point. He does like to dig small holes in the corners of the yard, and often came in the house with dirt on his nose, so it’s no surprise to me that he’d catch this disease, really. Luckily, right now he is doing very well on the medication we have to give him, and I think he has a great shot at making a full recovery.
Let me back up a bit. I took Indy to the vet about three weeks ago to finally have his right rear leg checked out. He wasn’t able to put weight on the leg, and would often run on three legs. For awhile, we just wrote it off because he’s such an active dog and he constantly twists and contorts his body into the strangest positions when he sleeps. We figured he would pull a muscle and then, after awhile when his leg would go back down to the ground again, we thought he had worked out the kinks. However, as time went on, he was not using that leg more and more, and finally one night he spun out in the living room and as he fell, he twisted in a bad way and was crying and yelping in pain. Two days later, after his leg had been up for two straight days and he was spending more time on his dog bed than usual, I took him in to see what was going on.
They thought it was a knee injury—something with a ligament. They kept him for the day and did x-rays to see if that was the problem. I hoped not, because I was told surgery to repair that knee ligament could be as high as $5,000. The vet called me and told me something unexpected: Indy had two large growths on the bones in the bad leg. It was one of two things: cancer, or Valley Fever.
We did the Valley Fever test first, rather than a biopsy, and I was pretty relieved to hear he was positive for VF. I was trying not to think of what it would mean if he turned out to have bone cancer. Apparently, in the advanced stages of VF, dogs often develop masses and growths in their bones. With people, it mostly invades your lungs only. I’m so glad we caught the VF now, because it could have led to seizures and death if he didn’t begin treatment. Like I mentioned above, he’s taking medication and so far is not showing any signs of the side effects, other than a slight slowing-down of his activity…which is really NOT a bad thing. He’ll have to stay on the meds for at least 6 months to a year. We’re just happy to have him healthy—the $24 a month for the pills he has to take is just nothing.
What I have noticed since all this happened and he began medication is, he seems to be a lot more obedient and the little pissing-incidents are not nearly as frequent. In fact, he only had one incident and that was on the first day he began the medication. I really have to wonder if he was misbehaving because he didn’t feel well. I feel a little bad about punishing him if that was the case, but yeah…how the hell could we have known? Either way, it’s so much better now around our house. I even attempted the very beginnings of Frisbee training (thanks to the information Jen shared with me!) this past weekend. He doesn’t get it yet, but I think he will.
And that is what is going on.
I think I might begin writing about random things again. My first idea is to write about owls, and what I think of them. So maybe I’ll get on that next.
Number of meetings I attended during which my fly was down: 2
I was in such a hurry to get into those meetings there was no time for zippers. I’m hopeful that my shirt was long enough so that when I was sitting down, no one could tell what the deal was down there on my pants-front. Oh, well.
Well, work is still going well, and I have no complaints. They’re keeping me busy. The people are very cool. I found out the company is about 80% women. One of the large meetings this morning was standing-room only, with only 5 men in attendance. I don’t think I’ve worked anywhere with this type of ratio before, but I can say this: it was also an efficient and productive meeting. I hate to be sexist and make an assumption that it was because women were running the thing, but I have to wonder. There was also freedom to laugh and crack jokes, and I noticed several of the women having short side-conversations with one another as the meeting went on. An hour went by very quickly. In comparison, at my previous job: meetings were almost always run by men because there were very few women in management there, and our meetings went on forever and I would cross out my notes a few times during the course of the meeting because no one could decide on anything. Blah. I’m glad to be gone.
In other news: Indy has Valley Fever. He got it from inhaling the Valley Fever spores in the dry soil at some point. He does like to dig small holes in the corners of the yard, and often came in the house with dirt on his nose, so it’s no surprise to me that he’d catch this disease, really. Luckily, right now he is doing very well on the medication we have to give him, and I think he has a great shot at making a full recovery.
Let me back up a bit. I took Indy to the vet about three weeks ago to finally have his right rear leg checked out. He wasn’t able to put weight on the leg, and would often run on three legs. For awhile, we just wrote it off because he’s such an active dog and he constantly twists and contorts his body into the strangest positions when he sleeps. We figured he would pull a muscle and then, after awhile when his leg would go back down to the ground again, we thought he had worked out the kinks. However, as time went on, he was not using that leg more and more, and finally one night he spun out in the living room and as he fell, he twisted in a bad way and was crying and yelping in pain. Two days later, after his leg had been up for two straight days and he was spending more time on his dog bed than usual, I took him in to see what was going on.
They thought it was a knee injury—something with a ligament. They kept him for the day and did x-rays to see if that was the problem. I hoped not, because I was told surgery to repair that knee ligament could be as high as $5,000. The vet called me and told me something unexpected: Indy had two large growths on the bones in the bad leg. It was one of two things: cancer, or Valley Fever.
We did the Valley Fever test first, rather than a biopsy, and I was pretty relieved to hear he was positive for VF. I was trying not to think of what it would mean if he turned out to have bone cancer. Apparently, in the advanced stages of VF, dogs often develop masses and growths in their bones. With people, it mostly invades your lungs only. I’m so glad we caught the VF now, because it could have led to seizures and death if he didn’t begin treatment. Like I mentioned above, he’s taking medication and so far is not showing any signs of the side effects, other than a slight slowing-down of his activity…which is really NOT a bad thing. He’ll have to stay on the meds for at least 6 months to a year. We’re just happy to have him healthy—the $24 a month for the pills he has to take is just nothing.
What I have noticed since all this happened and he began medication is, he seems to be a lot more obedient and the little pissing-incidents are not nearly as frequent. In fact, he only had one incident and that was on the first day he began the medication. I really have to wonder if he was misbehaving because he didn’t feel well. I feel a little bad about punishing him if that was the case, but yeah…how the hell could we have known? Either way, it’s so much better now around our house. I even attempted the very beginnings of Frisbee training (thanks to the information Jen shared with me!) this past weekend. He doesn’t get it yet, but I think he will.
And that is what is going on.
I think I might begin writing about random things again. My first idea is to write about owls, and what I think of them. So maybe I’ll get on that next.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thank you to everyone who wished me luck at the new job. I haven’t had time to reply to comments, but it was so cool you all said nice things. Thanks again! It’s day three of my new job, and the good news is I really enjoy it so far!
The people are incredibly down-to-earth and genuinely nice. The overall atmosphere of the office feels very calm and no one seems wigged out or anything; they seem to manage stress differently than they did at my last job.
The work I’ll be doing is challenging but they are giving me ample time to learn the field and familiarize myself with schedules and styles; all of that fun stuff. I appreciate that. It’s always good to have a chance to know what you’ll be talking about when you write and edit articles down the road—in the past, I’ve had to jump right into my first writing assignments without much in the way of training so the fact that this isn’t a trial by fire is damn cool.
The little things are all great, too: the fact that I can wear pretty much anything to work since there is no established dress code (although I would have to get new pasties and g-strings since it’s been ages since I could wear those to work); the location of the office is perfect for walking around outside on your breaks since there are walking paths through the park and by a little lake; they have a cafeteria room where I can actually eat my lunch in the building (the last job, eating in the building was not an option since the two break rooms were tiny and always full, and one thing I don’t like is when people insist on talking to me when I am eating. I like to read while I have my lunch and people in those break rooms never got it. Plus—only one microwave for almost 200 employees? Shyeah, that’s a good idea.). There’s more- they put a welcome banner in my new cube/office—a little but appreciated touch; we all went to lunch on my first day and I feel a real rapport with my immediate co-workers and the signs are there that I can present my real sense of humor with them; and seriously, the benefits and other things they do for the employees is truly impressive. I’d go so far as to say that upon leaving after the first day, I felt almost elated to be working here. That’s a new thing. The best part is, it takes me exactly 10 minutes to get here and get home each way. I could ride my bike to work if I wanted to. The last time I rode my bike to work was about 10 years ago. And god knows my fat ass could use a little bike-action twice a day.
Since I started this off by writing “the good news is…”, you know there was a “bad news”, too. My bad news is that yesterday, on my second day of work at the nicest company ever, I threw up.
Yeah, well…at least I made it to the restroom and didn’t just puke all over my desk or in the long meeting I was sitting in prior to pukeage. The deal was I had a migraine of monstrous proportions and it made me nauseous, and as the morning wore on, it got worse and worse until I couldn’t turn my head without feeling the awful throbbing behind my eyes and temples and every time I shifted in my chair or took a deep breath, my stomach would flip-flop.
You know, this is just my luck. I knew I was in trouble when the migraine woke me up from a deep sleep at 5am. I got up a little while later and got ready for work and even as I was driving in, the sunlight was killing me and I felt like it was hard to focus my eyes on the road. But I was hopeful that the migraine would calm down once I got to work and occupied myself with other things. I planned to drink a crapload of water and take some medicine once I got there.
Instead, I got here and found that the lighting at my desk was making my eyes hurt even more, so I had to turn the lights off. As I was proofing some very small copy the nausea hit. I had my first big editorial meeting that morning and I wanted to stay through the meeting for sure, but by then I was getting the idea that I’d have to go home if this feeling continued. I hated the idea of leaving early on my second day. I was really concerned that they’d think I was a slacker or something, or I was a big baby who would always be a pain in the ass with health problems. I didn’t want to leave.
But we had the meeting, and like I said, I felt worse as I was sitting there. It lasted one and a half hours, so it was not easy to get through it. I tried so hard to pay close attention and I took notes and all that, but I was worried how I looked. Finally, after the meeting ended, I went back to my desk and drank a little water and tried to proofread some more. But only a few minutes in, I got the dreaded cold sweats and was speed-walking down to the ladies’ room to rush my ass over to the empty stall to lean over the toilet and puke my guts out.
Best part? Someone was in the other stall. I don’t know who she was, and I don’t think she knew who I was either. But she heard me all right. She said, “Are you okay over there, honey?” I stammered out something about being ‘just a little sick, I’ll be fine’ and went back to more puking and flushing. Even though she couldn’t see me, and even though I couldn’t help the fact that I was sick, I was blushing. I could feel it. She said something about feeling better and left, thank God. I did my patented Vomit Crying at this point, very quietly. I always cry a little when I throw up; I don’t know why. Either way, after about 15 minutes I felt confident enough to leave the sanctity of the stall and clean up. I had no choice but to go talk to my boss and ask to go home.
So that’s how day 2 of the great new job went. Good lord.
Today, no one seems to be weird about the fact that I went home and/or puked in the company bathroom. They are all asking me if I feel OK and my boss mentioned that if I felt sick again I could go home, but I refuse to do that. I have a lot to learn and read here today. I just don’t WANT to go home. That’s a 180 from my last job, where I would be wishing I was staying home from the moment I turned the alarm off. On my more hormonal days, I would even cry on my drive in to the office or in my car on my lunch hour. Sad? Yes. Pathetic? Definitely. So, as you can see, I am quite relieved to not feel trapped in a place I hate anymore.
I’ve got to go. Blogging on day 3? Not the best idea, probably. But I typed this as a word doc so it looks like work. (It’s my usual MO anyway) Plus, the other Lisa who works here just sent me an e-mail inviting me to lunch with her. You know it’s good when there are TWO Lisas in the same department, and both of them like South Park and Arrested Development. I have a good feeling about this. (And for the record, I think I’m going to use the other bathroom here for awhile so I won’t be reminded of Day 2.)
The people are incredibly down-to-earth and genuinely nice. The overall atmosphere of the office feels very calm and no one seems wigged out or anything; they seem to manage stress differently than they did at my last job.
The work I’ll be doing is challenging but they are giving me ample time to learn the field and familiarize myself with schedules and styles; all of that fun stuff. I appreciate that. It’s always good to have a chance to know what you’ll be talking about when you write and edit articles down the road—in the past, I’ve had to jump right into my first writing assignments without much in the way of training so the fact that this isn’t a trial by fire is damn cool.
The little things are all great, too: the fact that I can wear pretty much anything to work since there is no established dress code (although I would have to get new pasties and g-strings since it’s been ages since I could wear those to work); the location of the office is perfect for walking around outside on your breaks since there are walking paths through the park and by a little lake; they have a cafeteria room where I can actually eat my lunch in the building (the last job, eating in the building was not an option since the two break rooms were tiny and always full, and one thing I don’t like is when people insist on talking to me when I am eating. I like to read while I have my lunch and people in those break rooms never got it. Plus—only one microwave for almost 200 employees? Shyeah, that’s a good idea.). There’s more- they put a welcome banner in my new cube/office—a little but appreciated touch; we all went to lunch on my first day and I feel a real rapport with my immediate co-workers and the signs are there that I can present my real sense of humor with them; and seriously, the benefits and other things they do for the employees is truly impressive. I’d go so far as to say that upon leaving after the first day, I felt almost elated to be working here. That’s a new thing. The best part is, it takes me exactly 10 minutes to get here and get home each way. I could ride my bike to work if I wanted to. The last time I rode my bike to work was about 10 years ago. And god knows my fat ass could use a little bike-action twice a day.
Since I started this off by writing “the good news is…”, you know there was a “bad news”, too. My bad news is that yesterday, on my second day of work at the nicest company ever, I threw up.
Yeah, well…at least I made it to the restroom and didn’t just puke all over my desk or in the long meeting I was sitting in prior to pukeage. The deal was I had a migraine of monstrous proportions and it made me nauseous, and as the morning wore on, it got worse and worse until I couldn’t turn my head without feeling the awful throbbing behind my eyes and temples and every time I shifted in my chair or took a deep breath, my stomach would flip-flop.
You know, this is just my luck. I knew I was in trouble when the migraine woke me up from a deep sleep at 5am. I got up a little while later and got ready for work and even as I was driving in, the sunlight was killing me and I felt like it was hard to focus my eyes on the road. But I was hopeful that the migraine would calm down once I got to work and occupied myself with other things. I planned to drink a crapload of water and take some medicine once I got there.
Instead, I got here and found that the lighting at my desk was making my eyes hurt even more, so I had to turn the lights off. As I was proofing some very small copy the nausea hit. I had my first big editorial meeting that morning and I wanted to stay through the meeting for sure, but by then I was getting the idea that I’d have to go home if this feeling continued. I hated the idea of leaving early on my second day. I was really concerned that they’d think I was a slacker or something, or I was a big baby who would always be a pain in the ass with health problems. I didn’t want to leave.
But we had the meeting, and like I said, I felt worse as I was sitting there. It lasted one and a half hours, so it was not easy to get through it. I tried so hard to pay close attention and I took notes and all that, but I was worried how I looked. Finally, after the meeting ended, I went back to my desk and drank a little water and tried to proofread some more. But only a few minutes in, I got the dreaded cold sweats and was speed-walking down to the ladies’ room to rush my ass over to the empty stall to lean over the toilet and puke my guts out.
Best part? Someone was in the other stall. I don’t know who she was, and I don’t think she knew who I was either. But she heard me all right. She said, “Are you okay over there, honey?” I stammered out something about being ‘just a little sick, I’ll be fine’ and went back to more puking and flushing. Even though she couldn’t see me, and even though I couldn’t help the fact that I was sick, I was blushing. I could feel it. She said something about feeling better and left, thank God. I did my patented Vomit Crying at this point, very quietly. I always cry a little when I throw up; I don’t know why. Either way, after about 15 minutes I felt confident enough to leave the sanctity of the stall and clean up. I had no choice but to go talk to my boss and ask to go home.
So that’s how day 2 of the great new job went. Good lord.
Today, no one seems to be weird about the fact that I went home and/or puked in the company bathroom. They are all asking me if I feel OK and my boss mentioned that if I felt sick again I could go home, but I refuse to do that. I have a lot to learn and read here today. I just don’t WANT to go home. That’s a 180 from my last job, where I would be wishing I was staying home from the moment I turned the alarm off. On my more hormonal days, I would even cry on my drive in to the office or in my car on my lunch hour. Sad? Yes. Pathetic? Definitely. So, as you can see, I am quite relieved to not feel trapped in a place I hate anymore.
I’ve got to go. Blogging on day 3? Not the best idea, probably. But I typed this as a word doc so it looks like work. (It’s my usual MO anyway) Plus, the other Lisa who works here just sent me an e-mail inviting me to lunch with her. You know it’s good when there are TWO Lisas in the same department, and both of them like South Park and Arrested Development. I have a good feeling about this. (And for the record, I think I’m going to use the other bathroom here for awhile so I won’t be reminded of Day 2.)
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I'm about to go to bed, and tomorrow I'll start my new job. :)
I'm nervous, but excited, too. It's like starting at a new school. I'm going to have to "apply myself" and "use my brain" more than I did at the last job/school. But for doing that, I get some decent rewards-- like flextime, telecommuting, lots of holiday and vacation time, great paycheck. And my slovenly ass gets to wear casual clothes to work again, yee haw!
It's funny how much my life has changed in the past couple of years or so. Sometimes-- like tonight-- I just find myself thinking about that and I feel so grateful and so amazed by the thing that is aging.
I'm 31 right now. Thirty-one years old. Sheesh. When did that happen? I was finishing up my first book at 13; today I am working hard to finish the two most recent ones. I'm gaining the courage to show my writing to other people, which I didn't have when I was younger. I've been submitting two of my short stories to magazines and journals, and although I have been rejected thus far, I actually feel a calm resolve to not give up. Again... that's new for me. Younger Lisa would have been crushed by the first rejection note and decided to go take a class in fencing or something like that; anything to not think about writing.
I think I actually feel my age. My body and face look and feel like they're 31, which is weird, really. No one ever mistakes me for being younger than I am anymore. That's kind of sad, but for some reason it doesn't weigh me down as much as it would a few years ago. I'm surprised by this. No one tells you that a day will come where you will feel at-ease with aging and getting little wrinkles. Sure, I do use lots of moisturizer to slow the wrinkling process a bit, but the truth is I am sort of intrigued to see what my wrinkles will look like.
Four years ago, I had surgery to remove adhesions on my internal organs. I have stage 4 endometriosis, and today I have only a couple of (admittedly ugly) scars to show that I made it through the scariest time of my life. I used to be terrified of the prospect of having surgery, and the day I had to have it I really freaked out and hoped I wouldn't die. I recovered and now I am not afraid like I once was. And I realized that you don't have to walk through your everyday life in constant pain in your belly. (I'd thought the throbbing pain, intestinal trouble and severely bad periods were just par for the course... I thought my symptoms were typical PMS crap.) I thought this for 17 YEARS. I learned to go to the doctor if I feel like something's not right, and not to be afraid of what they might find. Believe me, this has made my life in the past four years a lot easier. It also gave me the resolve to finally face and treat my depression properly--needless to say, my life definitely improved once I did that.
I've made a whole mess o' friends over the years, and only a few of them do I care enough to spend time with on a regular basis. Where I once beat myself up for being a relatively solitary and quiet personality, today I feel just fine with it. I cut the people who made me feel bad or guilty about my preferences out of my life. I like the people I consider my friends, and the truth is I like them a whole lot. I'm not forcing anything, and I am not putting myself outside of my comfort zone just because it's what I "think" I am supposed to do for some reason. On the same note, I have this blog, and through it I have been introduced to so many cool people I wouldn't have met in my day to day life-- I love that. It's nice, and I no longer feel weird or apologetic for having this blog and enjoying it.
And finally, I figured out a key thing: I deserve a good partner to share my life with. For years upon years, I made mistakes. I believed in men who were never able to be an equal partner and I fell for some blatant lies and promises made with weak intentions. I didn't need to date the losers anymore. One day I just woke up and ended an almost five-year nightmare, and from that point on I slowly morphed into the person that could actually work up the courage to post an honest personal ad on Yahoo that was designed just to see if, once reading about me and all my quirks, some guy would be interested in the person I am. I didn't have any expectations, and I even got close to deleting the ad a day later. Thank God I didn't. Greg saw my ad and he saw something in me. And somehow--without any real warning that it was going to happen--, I let my guard down and dove in all the way and after a series of unbelievably fantastic events, I am married to the one man I love in a way I've never loved anyone before in my life. I love HIM and WHO he is, and cherish every little thing about him, even when we fight. He's the type of guy I never would have believed I could "get" back in my low self-esteem days. I didn't think a guy with talents, brains, great sense of humor, compassion, sense of adventure, and the thousand other things I love about him would EVER be someone who would be interested in a chick like me. I was shooting low back when I was younger. I just can't say it enough how amazing it is that I grew up and learned things through my experiences and it finally led me to a healthy and solid, loving relationship. I'm going to be an old lady someday, and Greg will be my handsome and wonderful husband sitting next to me, watching "Super Troopers" and still laughing at all the jokes. For the first time in my life, I am in love and someone is honestly in love with me. And that is just the most incredible blessing.
So I guess it's what one would call a reflective night here for me. I get that way on the cusp of anything new, I think. But tomorrow I go into a new office, not knowing what the day will bring, and meeting people I will hopefully come to enjoy working with every day. I feel kind of cool about that. I'll be the new person, but not the "new kid." I don't need to feel young and inexperienced anymore-- I left that feeling with my backwards previous job. I can feel 31, and I can feel smart and capable and confident. I'm allowed! I've earned it, motherfuckers!
That does it. I started this blog to be myself, and I used to be "funny." Now I am a thoughtful old lady talking about love and not being afraid to have surgery anymore. What the hell has this blog come to? Someone...quick...give me a topic to discuss. I'll do my best to throw a little of my old Armsweat into there. Oh yeah... I guess it is more like Coolsweat nowadays. My new name rocks.
Have a great day and don't let the man get you down. And always eat oatmeal.
I'm nervous, but excited, too. It's like starting at a new school. I'm going to have to "apply myself" and "use my brain" more than I did at the last job/school. But for doing that, I get some decent rewards-- like flextime, telecommuting, lots of holiday and vacation time, great paycheck. And my slovenly ass gets to wear casual clothes to work again, yee haw!
It's funny how much my life has changed in the past couple of years or so. Sometimes-- like tonight-- I just find myself thinking about that and I feel so grateful and so amazed by the thing that is aging.
I'm 31 right now. Thirty-one years old. Sheesh. When did that happen? I was finishing up my first book at 13; today I am working hard to finish the two most recent ones. I'm gaining the courage to show my writing to other people, which I didn't have when I was younger. I've been submitting two of my short stories to magazines and journals, and although I have been rejected thus far, I actually feel a calm resolve to not give up. Again... that's new for me. Younger Lisa would have been crushed by the first rejection note and decided to go take a class in fencing or something like that; anything to not think about writing.
I think I actually feel my age. My body and face look and feel like they're 31, which is weird, really. No one ever mistakes me for being younger than I am anymore. That's kind of sad, but for some reason it doesn't weigh me down as much as it would a few years ago. I'm surprised by this. No one tells you that a day will come where you will feel at-ease with aging and getting little wrinkles. Sure, I do use lots of moisturizer to slow the wrinkling process a bit, but the truth is I am sort of intrigued to see what my wrinkles will look like.
Four years ago, I had surgery to remove adhesions on my internal organs. I have stage 4 endometriosis, and today I have only a couple of (admittedly ugly) scars to show that I made it through the scariest time of my life. I used to be terrified of the prospect of having surgery, and the day I had to have it I really freaked out and hoped I wouldn't die. I recovered and now I am not afraid like I once was. And I realized that you don't have to walk through your everyday life in constant pain in your belly. (I'd thought the throbbing pain, intestinal trouble and severely bad periods were just par for the course... I thought my symptoms were typical PMS crap.) I thought this for 17 YEARS. I learned to go to the doctor if I feel like something's not right, and not to be afraid of what they might find. Believe me, this has made my life in the past four years a lot easier. It also gave me the resolve to finally face and treat my depression properly--needless to say, my life definitely improved once I did that.
I've made a whole mess o' friends over the years, and only a few of them do I care enough to spend time with on a regular basis. Where I once beat myself up for being a relatively solitary and quiet personality, today I feel just fine with it. I cut the people who made me feel bad or guilty about my preferences out of my life. I like the people I consider my friends, and the truth is I like them a whole lot. I'm not forcing anything, and I am not putting myself outside of my comfort zone just because it's what I "think" I am supposed to do for some reason. On the same note, I have this blog, and through it I have been introduced to so many cool people I wouldn't have met in my day to day life-- I love that. It's nice, and I no longer feel weird or apologetic for having this blog and enjoying it.
And finally, I figured out a key thing: I deserve a good partner to share my life with. For years upon years, I made mistakes. I believed in men who were never able to be an equal partner and I fell for some blatant lies and promises made with weak intentions. I didn't need to date the losers anymore. One day I just woke up and ended an almost five-year nightmare, and from that point on I slowly morphed into the person that could actually work up the courage to post an honest personal ad on Yahoo that was designed just to see if, once reading about me and all my quirks, some guy would be interested in the person I am. I didn't have any expectations, and I even got close to deleting the ad a day later. Thank God I didn't. Greg saw my ad and he saw something in me. And somehow--without any real warning that it was going to happen--, I let my guard down and dove in all the way and after a series of unbelievably fantastic events, I am married to the one man I love in a way I've never loved anyone before in my life. I love HIM and WHO he is, and cherish every little thing about him, even when we fight. He's the type of guy I never would have believed I could "get" back in my low self-esteem days. I didn't think a guy with talents, brains, great sense of humor, compassion, sense of adventure, and the thousand other things I love about him would EVER be someone who would be interested in a chick like me. I was shooting low back when I was younger. I just can't say it enough how amazing it is that I grew up and learned things through my experiences and it finally led me to a healthy and solid, loving relationship. I'm going to be an old lady someday, and Greg will be my handsome and wonderful husband sitting next to me, watching "Super Troopers" and still laughing at all the jokes. For the first time in my life, I am in love and someone is honestly in love with me. And that is just the most incredible blessing.
So I guess it's what one would call a reflective night here for me. I get that way on the cusp of anything new, I think. But tomorrow I go into a new office, not knowing what the day will bring, and meeting people I will hopefully come to enjoy working with every day. I feel kind of cool about that. I'll be the new person, but not the "new kid." I don't need to feel young and inexperienced anymore-- I left that feeling with my backwards previous job. I can feel 31, and I can feel smart and capable and confident. I'm allowed! I've earned it, motherfuckers!
That does it. I started this blog to be myself, and I used to be "funny." Now I am a thoughtful old lady talking about love and not being afraid to have surgery anymore. What the hell has this blog come to? Someone...quick...give me a topic to discuss. I'll do my best to throw a little of my old Armsweat into there. Oh yeah... I guess it is more like Coolsweat nowadays. My new name rocks.
Have a great day and don't let the man get you down. And always eat oatmeal.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
In the spirit of the Lil' Shoplifter post from yesterday, the Lil' Shoplifter herself, Trish, has called the following video to my attention:
Stealing happens. And sometimes... it's adorable. (Sidenote: I had a hamster once and although he was cute, he was not a nice hamster. One of my fingers still bares a scar from his sharp hamstery teeth. I wish our hamster had been this adorable. I might notta squished him*.)
Spoiler alert! (Insert sound of warning sirens and a big ol' computer voice going "ALERT...ALERT...ALERT")
Last night's LOST was pretty good, I think. This one and the episode before it have finally felt like we're back to the show again. Anyway, since last night's episode featured my two favorite characters, Sayid and Locke, I was especially pleased. However, I want to know: what is the deal with Locke always having trouble resisting computers? Why couldn't he have just let it be...why did he have to start playing chess with the mysterious eye-patched Russian hovering in the other room? Couldn't he just not push the buttons? And then... BOOM. The station explodes. Making it the second place on the island Locke has destroyed. And I agree with Sayid-- they could have used all of that communication equipment to get off the island. So here's what I'm thinking: Locke ended up in the wheelchair because he did something foolish on a computer. It seems to be his downfall. That, and a sort of pride and stubborness that makes him believe he is just being led to do the right thing. When he's not. Well, either way: he's such a good character! And it's going to be the March 21st episode where we find out why he is that wheelchair. OK, that's all I will say about this show for now. Except to say that I stand by it, and I love it, even when it sucks.
Here's something funny! Woo hoo! FUNNY! YAY!
Yesterday Greg sent me a simply hilarious site with local TV commercials on it. This is one of our favorites:
That's one cool video store. And that kid... yeah, that's the sort of kid I believe we will raise.
* I did not squish my hamster, nor do I condone the squishing of small animals. If you don't get my sense of humor by now, why the hell are you even reading this blog?
Stealing happens. And sometimes... it's adorable. (Sidenote: I had a hamster once and although he was cute, he was not a nice hamster. One of my fingers still bares a scar from his sharp hamstery teeth. I wish our hamster had been this adorable. I might notta squished him*.)
Spoiler alert! (Insert sound of warning sirens and a big ol' computer voice going "ALERT...ALERT...ALERT")
Last night's LOST was pretty good, I think. This one and the episode before it have finally felt like we're back to the show again. Anyway, since last night's episode featured my two favorite characters, Sayid and Locke, I was especially pleased. However, I want to know: what is the deal with Locke always having trouble resisting computers? Why couldn't he have just let it be...why did he have to start playing chess with the mysterious eye-patched Russian hovering in the other room? Couldn't he just not push the buttons? And then... BOOM. The station explodes. Making it the second place on the island Locke has destroyed. And I agree with Sayid-- they could have used all of that communication equipment to get off the island. So here's what I'm thinking: Locke ended up in the wheelchair because he did something foolish on a computer. It seems to be his downfall. That, and a sort of pride and stubborness that makes him believe he is just being led to do the right thing. When he's not. Well, either way: he's such a good character! And it's going to be the March 21st episode where we find out why he is that wheelchair. OK, that's all I will say about this show for now. Except to say that I stand by it, and I love it, even when it sucks.
Here's something funny! Woo hoo! FUNNY! YAY!
Yesterday Greg sent me a simply hilarious site with local TV commercials on it. This is one of our favorites:
That's one cool video store. And that kid... yeah, that's the sort of kid I believe we will raise.
* I did not squish my hamster, nor do I condone the squishing of small animals. If you don't get my sense of humor by now, why the hell are you even reading this blog?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
I've been so busy with last-minute projects they're piling on here before my last day (Friday), it's been tough to even get to read my favorite blogs. Yikes. When it comes to that, it's time to just give up and live in the woods somewhere.
Anyway, some random crap:
* I can't wait to see 300! It looks gorgeous. We watched a special on G4 on Sunday night; 'Icons: Frank Miller' and it was amazing to see them matching the cinematography exactly to the drawings and paintings Frank Miller did in the comic. Of course, this has happened already with some of his material-- Sin City. I'm just happy there is another great-looking movie coming out. Too few movies anymore are just fun to look at. I'm interested in seeing things that actually look like art. If all I cared about was a storyline, I could just read a book. I want my movies to have a great story, but they've got to look good. Amen.
* My sister and I were out last night and while we were driving we saw the moon was hanging low and it was still almost-full, and for some reason she called it a "Pork Chop Moon." We were singing little old-timey songs we made up about the Pork Chop Moon. Today, it's still cracking me up. I can't do it justice here. But then again, pretty much anything my sister and I do and/or make up is nonsensical to everyone else but us. For instance, a long-time game we played when we were little was a game called LIL' SHOPLIFTER. Trish was the Lil' Shoplifter, and she would carry a little collapsible toy knife and wear one of my dad's winter hats pulled down over her face like what we envisioned a thug to look like, and she'd 'creep around' the house. Shoplifting. My role was Security Guard. I was trying to apprehend the pesky Lil' Shoplifter but she was constantly eluding me and my invisible partner, Charlie. The big funny catchline that I had to say every time was: "Do ya see 'im, Charlie?" and I would wave a flashlight around as Trish stalked around the outskirts of the room and down the hallway. We'd play this for awhile every time we did it. I don't remember very much else about this game, but today it's hilarious to me that the Lil' Shoplifter carried a KNIFE. How many shoplifters are that aggressive, really? I'm pretty sure the Lil' Shoplifter was going to violently knife Security Guard and Charlie in the ribs if we had gone on with this game as we entered our darker, scarier adolescent years. (And Security Guard would take so long to die as the blood filled his lungs that the invisible Charlie character would be forced to snap Security Guard's neck to put him out of his misery. Meanwhile, LIl' Shoplifter would go down in a hail of bullets outside the backdoor. We'd get our Dad to play the cops.)
That's all.
Anyway, some random crap:
* I can't wait to see 300! It looks gorgeous. We watched a special on G4 on Sunday night; 'Icons: Frank Miller' and it was amazing to see them matching the cinematography exactly to the drawings and paintings Frank Miller did in the comic. Of course, this has happened already with some of his material-- Sin City. I'm just happy there is another great-looking movie coming out. Too few movies anymore are just fun to look at. I'm interested in seeing things that actually look like art. If all I cared about was a storyline, I could just read a book. I want my movies to have a great story, but they've got to look good. Amen.
* My sister and I were out last night and while we were driving we saw the moon was hanging low and it was still almost-full, and for some reason she called it a "Pork Chop Moon." We were singing little old-timey songs we made up about the Pork Chop Moon. Today, it's still cracking me up. I can't do it justice here. But then again, pretty much anything my sister and I do and/or make up is nonsensical to everyone else but us. For instance, a long-time game we played when we were little was a game called LIL' SHOPLIFTER. Trish was the Lil' Shoplifter, and she would carry a little collapsible toy knife and wear one of my dad's winter hats pulled down over her face like what we envisioned a thug to look like, and she'd 'creep around' the house. Shoplifting. My role was Security Guard. I was trying to apprehend the pesky Lil' Shoplifter but she was constantly eluding me and my invisible partner, Charlie. The big funny catchline that I had to say every time was: "Do ya see 'im, Charlie?" and I would wave a flashlight around as Trish stalked around the outskirts of the room and down the hallway. We'd play this for awhile every time we did it. I don't remember very much else about this game, but today it's hilarious to me that the Lil' Shoplifter carried a KNIFE. How many shoplifters are that aggressive, really? I'm pretty sure the Lil' Shoplifter was going to violently knife Security Guard and Charlie in the ribs if we had gone on with this game as we entered our darker, scarier adolescent years. (And Security Guard would take so long to die as the blood filled his lungs that the invisible Charlie character would be forced to snap Security Guard's neck to put him out of his misery. Meanwhile, LIl' Shoplifter would go down in a hail of bullets outside the backdoor. We'd get our Dad to play the cops.)
That's all.
Monday, March 05, 2007
This picture of John Travolta scares the beejeezus out of me!I guess he's playing Mrs. Turnblad in the movie-based-on-the-musical-that-was-based-on-the-movie Hairspray. In the past, luminaries like Divine and Harvey Fierstein have played Mrs. EdnaTurnblad, which makes it weird that a supposedly straight guy like Travolta would decide he wants to wear a dress and wig (as well as a god-awful fat suit) and run around singing about hair products. It's not like he makes an attractive woman; he's no John Leguizamo in To Wong Foo. He looks like the home ec teacher who eats all of the stuff the students make and goes home to massage her bunions and watch Wheel of Fortune.
I bring up John Travolta because inexplicably, his new movie Wild Hogs was the top-grossing movie this weekend. It beat Zodiac, for crying out loud. (We saw Zodiac on Friday night, and we both really liked it.) This just gives me further proof that the American public is truly dumbing down and all you need to have a hit movie is a moron on a motorcycle. I hang my head and sob for the future of this once-great nation. (In a related note, I can totally picture George W. Bush getting all excited for the premiere of Wild Hogs. "Laura, come quick! That preview with the bird smackin' John Travolta in the neck is on! Now ain't that SOMETHING! Hoooo boy! And bring me some more beef jerky darlin'.")
There was a LINE of people waiting to get into the theater on Friday to see Wild Hogs. Greg and I are walking up to the theater for Zodiac, and we see a line of people waiting in the hallway for the movie showing in the theater next to ours. As we get closer we read the sign and realize they are waiting for Wild Hogs. It was a strange moment. I was really thinking that movie would be such a bomb. I guess you could say given the choice between a movie about a serial killer who was never apprehended (a downer) and a crazy comedy about four middle-aged buddies who ride around making asses of themselves (a pick-me-up for sure!)... people are going to flock to the lighthearted fare. Oh, well. I shouldn't be so judgmental. Whatever floats their boat, I guess. Still...WILD HOGS?! Aye de mi.
I'll leave you with this question: which beer do you think George W. Bush would want to drink with his beef jerky: Pabst Blue Ribbon or good ole' fashioned Bud? Or would he drink something else? Be prepared to support your answer.
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