Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Friday, September 30, 2005
The 2,475,610th Sign of the Apocalypse
He came home with candles and melty tarts for me, a bag of the garbage bags I've been looking for, and:
Two pairs of pleated, cuffed, Nautica-brand khaki/Docker's style pants;
Two Nautica polo/golf shirts complete with collars;
One navy blue lighter-fabric polo/golf shirt with collar;
and one dressy long-sleeve henley-style shirt.
All of the shirts went with all of the pants. Everything matched. And it's grown-up pseudo-dressy "I can wear this to the dining room on the ship" clothing. And it all looks absolutely fabulous on him.
My husband went clothes shopping, came home with attractive ensembles, and nothing that had short pants, "Co-Ed Naked Bowling" ironed-on to the T-shirt, or was military-issue.
I am SO PROUD!
In other cruise news, since now apparently this blog is All Cruising, All The Time, we heard from the passport agency and his civilian passport is on its way. I have also purchased a kajillion different things from Silver Jewelry Club and I have to stop. Behold the glory of my lovelies:
These amethyst earrings I coudln't pass up. Could not. Pass up. That's my birthstone and there was just something so pretty about these, even though I hardly ever wear earrings any more.
Then I found the moonstone pendant, and the matching earrings, nearly one after the other so I had to get the earrings to go with the pendant. Since you know, I had already bought the pendant. Again, a non-cruise-related expense.
The garnet earrings I saw and just had to have them. Had to. Now of course, it means I am going to have to buy a garnet pendant when I see it with a similar garnet in it. And it also means that I am going to have to find a red sparkly top to wear with my black formal carwash pants on the ship, because I am going to have to wear these on the ship. Because I can't have this many non-cruise-related expenses, right now, because that would make me feel guiltier.
These CZ pendants, the one that look like diamonds, kind of, if you get them at just the right angle and suspend reality for long enough to think that I would own a one-carat diamond set in white gold in the form of a pendant just to wear on a vacation, are the actual "Cruise bling" that I purchased with the intention of wearing them on formal night with my new outfits. Notice that they are clear, and sparkly, like little disco balls. And now I just have to find some appropriate, similar, clear, sparkly, silver, not-unlike-little-disco-balls but-way-more-elegant-than -disco-balls earrings to go with them. If I find one pair that can go with both, then I am in business, brother.So. I have to stop buying stuff.
Someone stop me.
oooooooooh, my silverjewelryclub window just changed over and there's some really pretty amythest earrings. If those were only clear CZ, I'd be halfway done with my shopping.
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Thursday, September 29, 2005
Just paid the seamstress for materials and labor for our Renaissance Garb. I have been told not to refer to this as a costume, as it is not. It is, however, Historically Accurate Clothing, and should be treated as such.One outfit for me.
One outfit for hubby.
For Halloween, for Ren faires, and for many other applications.
So.
I can't wait until I see it. But ow, mang. Ow.
I have also bought like four things off of www.silverjewelryclub.com today.
I need to stop the madness!
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I was talking to Faerie Lady when I suddenly remembered, in commenting that I was probably gonna do it again this year, and then I realized holy crap, that's this weekend.
Guess I better take some tit shots, huh?
I bet I can get the hubby to participate with some photos of his sexy pecs, too.
C'mon, everybody BoobieThon!
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| Pure Nerd 60 % Nerd, 39% Geek, 17% Dork |
| For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations! |
The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test
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And again with the thrilling updates
Working, and cleaning house, and dreaming of a cruise. That's pretty much it.
Oh, and stalking www.silverjewelryclub.com looking for some bling.
I bought some earrings last night, and I hardly ever wear earrings, so that should tell you they are some pretty beautiful earrings.
I truly, beyond the shadow of a doubt, wish I had more exciting news about what's going on. Except that it is finally, FINALLY starting to feel like fall around here. It's 55 degrees, yo. And therefore, Hubby is the one who is going to walk the dog this morning.
Me?
I'm sipping hot coffee and working.
And stalking silverjewelryclub.
For bling.
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Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Well, I've honestly been quite the little busy beaver.If I haven't been working, I have been:
Stressing about Hurricane Rita.
Pricing land vacations in Cozumel which we don't need because Galveston survived.
Getting cruise documents in the mail! Yay!
Shopping for some formalwear and having to return it because it was too big! Yay!
Planning a visit from my father-in-law and mother-in-law this coming weekend. Yay!
Cooking with peppers and herbs from my garden! Yay!
Holding babies! Yay!
Translating! Yay! (I really do love to do that)
Eating SUSHI! Double yay!
So, that's been my uber-exciting week. Lots of work, cruise stuff, dealing with a little stress, compulsively planning, and of course shopping and spending money.
How about you guys?
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Friday, September 23, 2005
Apparently, it IS all about me
Does it surprise anyone that I have such weird storm karma?
So here's the situation. I'm scared of natural disasters. Scared to death of them. So where was I born? Anchorage, Alaska, where we had earthquakes and winter storms and all kinds of shit. Then we moved to Washington State for 2 years, which happened to be in 1980 so we were a couple hundred miles from Mt. St. Helens when it exploded (I have a bottle of volcanic ash that I collected off my dad's car) and the explosion, even that far away, shook the ground. Thunderstorms/floods/monsoons in Arizona? Not even ON the natural disaster scale, but scared of them. Used to sit up half the night while the lightning would flash and the thunder would roll, wondering what part of my wooden fence was going to be laying in the alleyway and if I'd have enough time before work (if I got up really early) to go outside and fix it with a hammer, a nail, and whatever scrap wood I could scrounge up at that ungodly hour.
So where do we move? Oklahoma. Oklahoma, where the threat of tornadoes looms, where movies like Twister encourage us to say things like, "Cow" and take it with a strange, glib grain of salt as if we're making a joke. Oklahoma, where they test the tornado sirens across the street from my apartment at the fire station - slash - tornado shelter at noon on Wednesday, and I still jump and get goosebumps every time I hear them.
And what happens while I live in Oklahoma? No tornado so far in the year I've lived here (knock on wood) has come within 40 miles of where I am and where I live. So I have spent my time being afraid of disaster movies about the whole planet flooding and freezing over in bizarre ice storms, and stuff like that, which my husband wants to watch in the dark with surround sound in our small living room and which I would prefer to watch with the light on and without the sound on 11, thankyouverymuch, because I'll have bad dreams about that shit for months.
But other parts of the country get hit with the most devastating storms I can remember in my lifetime, and somehow with the downward spiral of Things That End Up Being Related To Me Somehow, our vacation plans get affected.
First, it was Katrina hitting N.O. and Carnival volunteering ships for relief efforts, which means out previous ship (Elation) was going to be taking over some other itineraries, and our cruise got canceled.
Then, it was that the Conquest was stationed in N.O., and it got moved to Galveston, so we got on the Conquest for the same date.
Now, Hurricane Rita wants to hit Galveston full-force today (and Houston right behind it) which makes really, the only other viable port for the Conquest (which is a goddamned huge ship)... Miami, FL. So if the port of Galveston isn't serviceable for tourist traffic by the time we leave on October 30, Carnival is going to have to either cancel the cruise or move it from another port. And if they do either one of those, we're out a cruise because we aren't going to travel to Florida to get on the cruise ship. At least right now, that's not in our budget.
So after I worked until 11pm last night, I spent part of the evening pricing land-based vacations on the island of Cozumel. Holy crap, if you know anybody who lives on Cozumel you better let them know that since Rose is thinking of going there in late October, there's bound to be an earthquake that will swallow up Cozumel, Honduras, Belize, Yucatan-Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama, Nicaragua, and the entire northern half of the South American Continent, as well as a huge whirlpool reverse tornado funnel ocean thing that will drain the oceans.
Seriously. Watch for it. I recommend cnn.com.
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Tuesday, September 20, 2005
I'm one day late for National Talk Like A Pirate Day. I know. But that's because I spent most of the day yesterday talking like a pirate to myself and dreaming of our cruise!So I thought I would share some beautiful cruise-related information!
Like...
Our cruise is going to be on Carnival Cruise Lines and we could not be more thrilled.
Our ship is the Carnival Conquest departing out of Galveston, Texas.
Take a Virtual Tour of the Carnival Conquest to see some 360-degree panorama pictures of the stuff on the ship. If you click on "Ocean View," that is the size room that we are currently booked in with a chance for an upgrade to a Balcony or a Suite.
We will be porting in Montego Bay, Jamaica, in Grand Cayman and Cozumel, Mexico. While in Cozumel, for example, we are going to spend the day at Paradise Beach after getting a massage.
Whoof! Now you can see all the things I've been looking at!
Is it October 30 yet? I can't wait! I can't wait!
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Monday, September 19, 2005
Wow.This was a pretty amazing weekend. So much so, in fact, that we didn't even go to the commissary so we are basically out of food.
How'd we get to that point, you ask?
First of all, on Friday night when S. got home from work, we went up to the local Mexican place that we like and had dinner. They were having this promotion where you got to roll dice at the end of your dinner and if you rolled "snake eyes," your meal was free. Well... when the bill came, I asked the waiter if we got to roll dice. He said, "Oh no, we aren't doing dice today," and the Manager said, "Oh sure we are, but if they weren't going to ask for the dice I'm not volunteering it to everybody. Here, let them roll!"
I rolled a 1 and a 4. "Roll again," said the manager. 1 and a 3. "Roll again," he said. 1 and a 5. "She won, she won, I saw it, here, give me those dice. I saw it, she won. She won." He snatched up the dice (we sooooooooo didn't win) and comped our meal! Of course, our beers and margaritas were not comped but we rolled outta there stuffed for $12. Can't beat that with a stick. And they have earned Customers For Life.
Great way to start off a weekend, right? With free dinner?
Hubby and I are members in a local car club, and the car club was having a just-for-fun car show with proceeds to benefit a local domestic violence shelter. As a domestic violence survivor, this cause is near and dear to my heart, so of COURSE we were going to do that.
That involved detailing the car.
While S. meticulously polished and polished and polished and polished the car's shiny wheels, I set myself to the task of waxing the car by myself. And doing all the bumper-black. And cleaning inside the wheel wells. And doing whatever-the-heck else I could. So I got a pretty good workout on Saturday, and Sunday morning, futzing around with the car. We left at 11:30am or so and headed out to the bowling alley in Norman, OK where the car show - slash - bowl-a-thon was to be held.
This was a picture of just a little bit of the show. There were about 40+ different cars there for the show. We even won a little door prize ourselves, although our car was shiny and clean but certainly wasn't what you'd call a "show quality vehicle." Heh.
I tried to take some "cool" pictures of all the different cars, but they were all parked so close together it was hard to get one shot of one car without another part of another car in the picture.So this picture of the tail light and gas cap is one of my favorites that I took of the show.
FYI, the car club raised over $400 plus additional donations of goods and services for the local domestic violence shelter, not counting whatever was raised in partnership with the bowling alley. I love being a part of things like this.
We then went inside and bowled for an hour or so, also for charity. I didn't do too badly, but I didn't do great either. I suck at bowling so the fact that I bowled a 115 for my first game was a pretty huge accomplishment for me!
We then joined some of the club members at Chili's for dinner, and some nice conversation and good laughs. Got home at about 7:30pm last night and collapsed. That's about when the skin on my arms, decollatage (that's my cleavage, for those of you not in the know) and my face started to sear and burn because I was a dumbass and didn't wear any sunscreen while we were outside at the car show. so I'm a little pink today. Just call me pinky. Okay, so not really, don't call me pinky.
Today, I got up feeling a little sunburned (ow ow ow) and realizing we don't have any food in the house so my tummy is rumbling (ow ow ow) and then I figured I should go ahead and do someone else a nicey nice, so I sent off an e-mail to the gal at Carnival Cruise Lines who phoned me to try to "make it right" when they got my frustrated letter about our canceled cruise and subsequent transfer to another ship. Surprise surprise, we got an e-mail from Carnival giving us some good news.
The military discounts for the ship we're on, for the sailing we're on, were opened back up. So we moved from an "inside guarantee" which basically means "we'll guarantee you have a room on the ship, it won't have any windows, and we'll put you where we want" -- for $490 per person plus fees and taxes -- to an "outside guarantee" which basically means "we'll guarantee you have a room with a picture window" - for $370 per person plus fees and taxes. So we get a $240 credit on our credit card, and it's turning out that after all the little promotional things they've done for us our total increase in price to take our cruise was $65.00.
Plus we are eligible for a possible upgrade to a balcony room, when the actual voyage comes around. OH, what I wouldn't give to be able to sip a glass of wine on our private balcony. C'mon, BALCONY!
Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly happy with what we have. A better room on a bigger ship for the same week we were originally going, for $65 more. Not per person. Total.
So, every little thing, what goes around comes around, karma karma karma. I just hope I keep doing right whatever I've been doing right.
How was YOUR weekend?
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Friday, September 16, 2005
Playing Doctor (unfortunately, not a sexual innuendo)
This, in case you didn't know, is bad.
So I survey the damage and find that the tape case is cracked and the actual CASSETTE itself is cracked and chipped, but it doesn't appear to be in a location that will hurt anything.
So I put it in the player. And the dictaphone proceeds to friggin' eat the tape.
EAT IT.
So I carefully, carefully, carefully take it all out of the tape player and re-survey the damage. I try to get it to spool correctly, with the help of a pen, a paper clip, and some scotch tape. (Ask Special K, she had me on webcam at the time and can bear witness to my bad-ass MacGyver-esque skeelz).
And it still doesn't look quite right, but I can't figure out why. But I try it again. Eating noises! Eating noises! Goddammit!
I get an extra-close look after removing the tape from the Evil Jaws Of Death, and it looks like the little cellophane piece of film that goes on the inside of the tape, to protect the actual magnetic media from rubbing on the outer case, has bunched itself all up inside the magnetic media and is causing a complete clusterfuck inside what should otherwise be a perfectly orderly cassette.
I call the client who sent me the tape, and he respectfully gives me permission (without me asking) to operate.
First, I try to undo the screws with my paperclip. As MacGyver's spirit has obviously left my body at that point and left me looking not like a badass but more like a numbnuts, I go digging for a jeweler's screwdriver. Somehow I find one somewhere. I unscrew the case, take out the cellophane, make sure the tape is all lined up nice and proper, put the case back together (after picking out all the shards of plastic on the inside and saving them as "evidence"), screw the tape back together, and put it in the tape player.
Where my dictaphone proceeds to eat the tape.
EAT IT.
So I carefully, carefully, carefully take it out of the dictaphone and try to spool it - it looks like one spool isn't running - investigate that problem, play with it a little, and get it to spool.
I put it back in the tape player.
No eating. Things are looking up.
And then it starts. The introduction. The interviewer and the interviewee. And they sound like they are in a warehouse, and that they are seated 50 yards from the recorder, AND they are both mousy, soft-spoken females.
At this point, I consider picking up shards of plastic and trying to slit my wrists.
I can't hear them over my own typing, which means it goes something like this:
- push pedal on dictaphone, play 5 secs - rewind - push pedal on dictaphone, play 5 secs - rewind - play 5 secs - rewind - play 5 secs - did she say Stanford? - rewind - type: "That [inaudible] was at Stanford [inaudible] in 2003."
Fuck.
I limped along through four pages of that crap, and sent those four pages with a polite e-mail to my client (who is a typing service, not the law office directly) letting him know about the poor audio quality and asking if the sample four pages I sent him would fall within their standard, and asking what he'd like me to do to proceed.
FYI, this whole process took me from about 7:00 pm to about 8:00 pm, and based on the number of lines I would have made $5.30 to date. Because I don't get paid for my time, I get paid for what gets typed.
Now... where are those plastic shards?
//edit: e-mail from my beloved client: "Yeah, sometimes we just get those bad ones. Keep going." I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. I love my job. But right now, I want a drink.
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Do you have this potato sack in red chiffon?
My problem?
I'm a plus-size.
I am not a GYNORMOUS plus-size, although sometimes I make myself feel like I am. I have a very specific problem: my huge rack, and my above-average ass, make it difficult for me to find anything that's not a tent.
You see, I'm curvy. I have a waist. A darned cute one, an hourglass figure, to be exact. I'm just about 3 sizes bigger than I should be to be able to find anything tailored or cut to fit someone with a waist. They assume that anyone who has a 46" bust and matching hips has no waist and therefore must need to dress in a large army tent, something that screams "I AM A GRANDMA," or a burlap sack.
Uh, no.
So, I've been trying to find some formalwear for the cruise that is both age-appropriate and figure-flattering, so I don't look like I'm the same width from my goddamned shoulders to my ass to my ankles. Do you have any idea how hard that is?!
At the advice of the lovely Joelle, I even went to Torrid to see if they had anything that I could use. While some of their cocktail-style dresses are really cute, I don't know if the styles would be that flattering on me. I'm seriously considering a couple of them, though.
I did find one on eBay (I'm not going to show you here because if it suddenly starts getting hits, perhaps it will get bids, and we just don't want that) that is a gorgeous blue number that will go beautifully with my hubby's Service Dress (blues) and would make for some great formal pictures. It's more of a gown, floor-length, but that'll be fine. We don't have any "real" formal pictures of ourselves, and I'd like to look nice for some on the ship.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon surfing plus-size shops, cursing the creators of all those evil clothes, wondering why the fuck they have smaller-than-size-12 women modeling clothes that are specifically supposed to be for plus-sized people (this means you, Lane Bryant and Catherine's). I want to see how the fucking clothes are going to look on MY ass, not on some SKINNY ass, thankyouverymuch. Jesus criminy, can't anyone be real any more?
I've lost about 15 pounds, and if everything goes perfectly between now and the cruise (which it is not) I will lose 15 more, if I lost 2 pounds per week. Of course those are completely unrealistic goals for me, since I have abused my body for so long over time with diets, eating disorders, and the like. But I'm working out nearly every day and I'm doing my best to get healthy, so I have to tell myself that's all that matters. And if I'm a size 18 when we take our cruise, that'll just have to be fine with me.
Hubby loves me anyway no matter what. That's just what I keep telling myself.
Clothes manufacturers are the spawn of Satan.
And that's all I have to say about that.
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Thursday, September 15, 2005
Good gravy, an actual day off?!?!
Remember about how unmotivated I was?
Well, it appears that I was unmotivated for a reason. The industry has taken a down day, it appears, as none of my clients are bombarding me with "urgent work" and "frantic stuff" and "rush jobs" and all the other things that make my day-to-day such a lovely tropical island breeze.
So what is Rose doing to while away the hours? I'm doing laundry, watching some trashy court television, eating a healthy lunch, cleaning up around my office, and trying to do some of the stuff I just have difficulty getting done on the day-to-day.
And! Hubby said he might be home early tonight, around 8:00-8:30'ish instead of 11:00-12:00, so we might actually get to have some nice evening time together.
Good grief, what's happened to me? I'm learning to appreciate an unexpected day off!!
//edit: Bah. Got the kitchen clean and laundry started and moved over, and got an e-mail telling me the typing jobs are ROLLING IN. Guess I better get working if I'll be done by the time hubby comes home!
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It's been pouring rain here for like three days. I love it, actually! I don't like the mud very much, but the cooling that it brings to the weather is definitely appreciated. Makes it a little nicer to take the dog out for his afternoon walk.
Uh, I don't have much else to say right now. Just looking for a way to procrastinate. I think I'm at the end of that rope, and should probably start working.
Urgh.
Is it Friday yet?
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Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Since hubby's back on as lead of the Swing Shift (3p-11p), that makes me the lead of the Swing Shift here at Casa Rose.Finishing with my work for the day at 9:45pm sucks ass. But at least I don't have to be up at 5:30am tomorrow morning.
Right?
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What the hell am I trying to say?
Becuase a lot of my social interaction anymore is in the blogosphere, I also find myself reading blogs a little bit more (even though I'm not commenting as much) and just trying to pay attention to the grand scheme of things.
It seems like a lot of people are questioning their own motivations and stuff lately, so I'm going to take a cue from a couple of blogs I've read and just kind of "go with it." Bear with me, ok?
One dear blog friend of mine is starting to question about her anonymity on the internet and whether or not she should make her blog more anonymous. Me? That's one of the reasons I'm on blogspot, and that's one of the reasons why you will rarely see a viable picture of me on here any more. I had always determined that I was going to leave my blog anonymous (which is why Rose, although it is a name I answer to, is not my legal name) and avoid sharing it with people in my real life. To that end only three or four people in my real life know about the blog, so for me blogging is almost like living a wacky double life. I had a bad experience a little over a year ago with a blogger (who also knew me in real life) who was determined to cause all kinds of trouble for me, and after that fiasco blew up I became even more vigilant about trying to keep my identity private. It's one of the reasons I stay on blogspot. It's easier to be anonymous on blogspot.
I will probably always keep my blog at some level of anonymity, for that reason and because I am also conscious of the need to protect the identity and career of my husband, and U.S. Military OPSEC. It's just something I have to do. I selectively share my real identity with people, and that way I am in control of who "knows" and who doesn't "know." Although nothing I write in this blog is fiction, it's all 100% my true and real life, I get reminded that you guys only know of me what I want you to know of me.
Then another blog friend of mine answered some questions and wrote about what she considers "trainwreck blogs" and why there are some kinds of blogs she reads/comments on and some she doesn't. I have a couple of "trainwreck blogs" that I read, and when the people who write those blogs are in the middle of tirades about their totally skewed lives, I tend not to comment on those either. I mean what can you possibly comment about when there's someone so wrapped up in their own drama that that's the only way they function? I am just not a believer in fueling the fire, and I am not a believer in feeding people's psychosis or anything else. I prefer to just let peoples' fires burn out if it's at all possible. I'll be there for my friends or whatever, you know, but in the blog world it seems like there is a TON of drama on a daily basis. There is NO SHORTAGE of drama! That's why you'll see I rarely get in fights with other bloggers or drag people in the blogosphere through the mud here. Why do it? Everybody sees it every day. It's just a waste of time and energy.
It's weird, a few years ago I might have felt differently about that. I might have felt like I was doing a "service" to rant and rave about someone being totally fucked up, or might have felt like it was a "good thing" to post "my thoughts and feelings" about shit like that. But not any more. Maybe it was turning 35 that did it. Maybe it was marrying a good man that did it. Maybe it was starting my own business that did it. But somewhere, somewhere along the line I not only lost a taste for participating in that kind of blogbashing, but I also lost a taste for reading it. It's so amazingly selfcentered and ignorant to believe that what I think or how I feel about one person or one blog or one thing that some random person does, should affect how other people see that person, blog, or issue.
When I see people who have dug their own hole sooooooooooooooooooo far and sooooooooo deep that they have to take all kinds of drastic measures to be able to feel "safe" and like they can write anything they want to write, well, that just kind of freaks me out. Why? What's the point? Why be a drama magnet? What possible joy does that hold? I get joy out of my garden, out of my dog, out of my husband, out of my work, out of my life in general. I get ENTERTAINMENT out of blogging for you, and entertainment out of reading your blogs. That's the difference. Some people in the blogosphere equate blogging life with real life, and they take their own self worth out of what the blog world thinks of them, or they take their own satisfaction out of either how much trouble they can cause or how many people can comment and pat them on the back when they're ranting about crap. If I make a rant and you guys comment, I think it's great to feel some kinship, but I'm certainly not ranting and venting JUST so you can comment and tell me how great you think I am. But some bloggers do that, and it totally turns me off, mang. I feel sorry for people who have to do that. Who have to constantly draw attention to themselves, then run and hide, or draw attention to themselves and then wonder why they are dodging bullets. If you paint a big target on your back, people are going to shoot at you. Everybody's entitled to what they want to think or feel, but you have to own up and take responsibility for the predicaments that you get in, in this fickle blogging world. I've been blogging now for going on three years, and I haven't gotten into any kind of predicament that would make me think I want to move, or quit, or anything like that. I am who I am and you guys like me anyway. I really dig that.
With my bad blogger experience so many months/more than a year ago, I stopped feeling as free to be able to write whatever I thought I wanted. Not because I thought what I was going to write was going to get me in some kind of trouble, but because I was convinced that the wacko in question was still reading my blog out of some kind of stalker psychosis and that they'd secretly laugh if I were going through trials and tribulations. For all I know they still read, I couldn't really give a shit. But I'm going to start feeling more free to write about the things I thought would have embarrassed me before. Those of you who have been reading me for a couple years now can tell I'm more closed-off with my writings than I used to be. But I'm going to start opening back up and letting you see more of me. I think it's just something I have to do, and I don't give a flying fuck if someone I "know" gets a chuckle out of something that happens to me.
Does that mean I'm going to turn into a raving drama queen? Nope. I don't feel sorry for myself and I don't expect you to feel sorry for me. I am where I am in my life because of the choices I've made and the things I've done. I accept that, I own it, and I love it. And now that I type this out, I can see there's parallels between the blog world and the real world. Have you ever had a friend in your life that you like, and you want to talk to them about stuff that's going on with you, but somehow they end up making it all about them? You know, like you're going through a problem and you're talking to them about it and then suddenly you're hearing some story about something completely unrelated that they went through fifteen years ago and how it affected them and how it made them feel, and by the time they're done telling their story they can't remember why they interrupted you in the first place? But then your issue still isn't resolved. Or someone who, when you hang out with them or talk to them on the phone, won't let you get a word in edgewise so the whole conversation is abbreviated on your end into "uh-huh" and "yeah, I know" and "absolutely" and more "uh-huh," and you just can't seem to get them to listen to anything you'd like to say since theyr'e so wrapped up in hearing their own voice or hearing themselves talk, or the utter and complete importance of what they had for lunch today or what they watched on TV last night? That's like a blog! Why do some people like to type in their blog, but they don't like to participate in other forms of communication? Because when they blog, they have 100% of your attention. You can't interrupt them. You can't try to squeeze in to make your own point, you have to wait until you've read everything they had to say and then if you're lucky you can make a comment about it. But they're in control of the situation. Bloggers are narccistic, egotistical creatures.
I just try to not be that way in my real life.
I have my own little hideyhole corner of the world here, and about 100 of you a day stop by to say hi, and that means like 3% of you comment. And that's totally cool with me. If some of you become friends of mine as a result of this little corner of the intarweb, then that's an even more amazing blessing.
Thanks for reading my thoughtless rant.
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Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Yesterday, I was having kind of a crappy day so I ended up spending part of the day counting my blessings. It's just a little thing I do from time to time to remind me that I'm truly okay, you know?Here's some things that made me happy yesterday:
1) I didn't have a lot of work to do early in the day, but that meant I could sleep some more in the afternoon and rest my horked-out shoulder (I've hurt it somehow).
2) Ever have one of those afternoons where the sun is JUST hot enough to feel warm and comfy on your skin, but the breeze is JUST cool enough to make you decide it's a beautiful day? Yeah, it was one of those.
3) All my pepper plants are bursting at the seams, which means I will soon have fresh jalapenos, serranos, and banana peppers.
4) Even though my shoulder hurt, I still managed to relax some.
5) I get to take time out of my day to plan our cruise, which is going to be very fun.
6) Even when I feel alone, I have friends that I IM with and/or talk to on the phone.
7) My dad's still alive, and I would know this becuase I talked to him.
I know, it just all sounds completely dorky of me to say, but I am/was happy to have yesterday to help give me a little perspective. It helps me get back in the groove for days like today.
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Monday, September 12, 2005
Dear white trash idiots at the pool:You have three boys. One of them, the youngest, was yanking on the long life-saving lasso thingy that is on a big metal pole, and the contraption was hung on metal racks on the inside of the metal pool fence. When the child did this, a nails-on-the-chalkboard type noise permeated my entire apartment, and I could not escape it.
Couple that with the other two boys slamming large foam "pool noodles" on the pool deck repeatedly, and it sounded remarkably like a garbage truck applying its brakes in the swimming pool. And someone shooting a gun. And three screaming boys.
For five minutes.
I finally went outside on my balcony. Your oldest boy, about 10 years old, looked up at me, dropped the "pool noodle" and got back in the pool. You just kept chit-chatting with your husband? boyfriend? lay for the night? pimp? fuckbuddy?
Finally, the 10-year-old said to the child who was still yanking and scraping and squealing the metal-on-metal orchestra, "Hey, [child's name], knock it off. You made that lady come out on her balcony." The child went for two or three more squeaks and then stopped, grabbed the abandoned "pool noodle," and jumped in the pool.
Take a lesson from your TEN YEAR OLD BOY, and try to be a parent, would you?
Unbelievable.
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So I see the comment that it's a new video from the guys at rathergood.com, home of the spongmonkeys, and all the other strangely addicting little flash animations, so I decide I better go see what all the fuss is about.
And now I am singing this song over and over in my head.
And all I want to do is flip out like a ninja.
Damn, I'm easily amused, AND apparently highly susceptible to suggestions.
Go, go now. Flip out like a ninja, cuz that's what ninjas do.
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Friday, September 09, 2005
Slightly Better Than The Last Time
So today?
I will pick on others!
To The People With The Dead Plants:
Dear neighbors,
I understand that you were trying to beautify your patio/balcony with the joy and beauty of summer flowers. What I couldn't help noticing was that most of them were dead.
Oh, for sure, when you got the first beautiful hanging basket of flowers, I couldn't wait for you to actually hang it up and let it beautify your little patio. But you left it sitting on the floor of the patio where it didn't get sunshine, or apparently water, and it dried up into a big brown ball. I also had high hopes for the second beautiful hanging basket with all of its gorgeous purple blossoms, but alas it was relegated to the same fate as the first.
Three more dead baskets of plants later, your patio now looks like a Plant Cemetery, with dead baskets of random plants (some with the tags still on them from the nursery) and it's just - how can I put this - nasty.
Plants need water. Look it up.
To The Guy In The Gym The Other Day:
Dear neighbor,
I understand that everybody has their own faith and everybody wants to feel more connected with God. That being said, I do not particularly think that the public gym of the apartment complex is the place to have the TV set on the Christian Preaching Channel.
It probably seems like a sneaky way to mission to all us Heathens and stuff, having the TV on the Preaching Channel, but I think the last straw that broke this camel's back was when you switched the channel from one preaching channel to the other one, after there were two other new people that had joined you in the gym. Then when you left the gym, you jut left the TV on preaching.
Can you spread the Word of your God on your own time in your own place please? Thank you.
To The Idiot Parent At The Pool
Dear neighbor,
This went down the other day at the pool.
Your Kid: Ha! Whee! Ha ha! Ha ha ha! Yeah! That's - yeah! Ha ha! Whee! (While he was slamming, repeatedly and destructively, the gate between the Hot Tub and the main pool.
You: *silence* (while you laid on a chase lounge 10 feet from where your child was being destructive)
Leash your child, or next time I'm going to reprimand him myself. And if your skinny ass thinks you want to get in my face for reprimanding your child for breaking rules and being destructive, you should reconsider or you'll end up in the pool whether you like it or not. Have some freaking common sense.
Thanks.
To My Downstairs Neighbor
Dear neighbor,
I want to bring something to your attention. You have two legs, that are perfectly functioning. You are 100% healthy. You are so healthy in fact, that you come and go at all hours of the day and night and you slam your door constantly. I see you carrying large, multiple bags of groceries from your car to your apartment unassisted. I see you going up and down stairs without incident.
The fact that you are a Home Health Care Worker and are therefore, for some reason, "entitled" to a handicapped parking sticker does not mean that you should be able to utilize that sticker outside of your regular work day by taking the only handicapped parking spot on our side of the building as your own, for your 2002 red Mustang.
I was almost over it and done being mad about it until I heard you called the police when someone without a sticker was parked in the spot, and then when they moved their car you parked your Mustang in the spot. Because you couldn't walk an extra 25 feet if you were parked down the row a bit. I agree with calling the cops on the cheater. But you're a cheater yourself, you ignorant twat! That is not your personal parking place!
I'm waiting for the day you get too comfortable and you don't have the sticker hanging up in your car. And then I'm going to call the cops on you, too. Your rampant sense of entitlement doesn't go over very well with me. Suck it.
--------------------------------
And now! In some other, slightly more interesting or less interesting news, I heard back from Carnival about our little cruise fiasco and it looks like they're going to try to hook us up with an upgraded room when we're closer to sailing date (I understand this is still a crap shoot, but a girl can dream, right?) and a Carnival bathrobe that we can bring home with us when we're done cruising. So I guess it's the little things that brighten my day, because I am now all re-jazzed for the cruise and was dreaming of it last night.
Until I dreamed of freakish drag racing in coffin-like boxes on rails with little wheels, being pulled by dogs.
Yeah, I know. I don't get it either.
Mwah, my lovelies! Thanks for coming by even when I'm boring and unentertaining!
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Thursday, September 08, 2005
 | I am: a bulldog clipThis powerful steel gripper won't let papers get away from each other! |
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Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Talk about getting perspective...
S. worked late on Friday night (he's back on as Swing Shift Lead) so I hit the sack around 11pm on my own. *sob* *sob* Saturday, S. spent the day at a friend's working on his car, and I did absolutely NOTHING! Seriously! I laid around! I watched TV! I ate bonbons! Okay no bonbons, but you know what I mean. I lazed around and it was fabbo. Hubby got home around 4pm and we ended up pouring a frosty beverage and taking it out to the swimming pool, where we lazed about in the sun, paddled around, snuggled and cuddled and flirted and cooed with one another until the sun went down. Then we came upstairs, had some Chinese food (delivery) and um, you know, had some good "couples time." *cough*
Sunday was a lot more of doing pretty much nothing. Well, that was until we found out that Carnival had canceled our cruise.
Yes, that's right, our cruise that we've been looking forward to for months got canceled by Carnival. It's all for a good cause, don't get me wrong. They're sending some of their ships to work with FEMA and provide disaster relief, and our ship was one of the ones affected by cancellations. Fortunately for us we hopped right on the phone to Carnival after I read it online and got transferred over to another ship leaving out of the same place on the same day, and we had to pay some extra money to do it. But it'll all work out fine. It's a bigger, newer ship so there will be more for us to do and see.
We aren't going to see ruins in Mexico now though, we're going to Grand Cayman and Montego Bay, Jamaica. Anyone ever been there? I think we're going to try to swim with the stingrays.
So in the scope of things, you know, after watching all this devastation around us, a canceled cruise was unfortunate and inconvenient, but it wasn't life-or-death. Amazing how things like that help us keep our heads screwed on.
Monday was spent doing another whole lotta nothing, but that's fine by me. All in all it's a good thing that I got to relax and unwind a little bit, and that S. got to get some things done that he wanted to do with the car.
How did you all spend your long weekend?
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My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Name: Rose
Age: 36
Religion: Pagan
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
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