Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Hoping everyone's evening is safe, fun, wonderful, fantastic and magical!
See you in 2006!
Friday, December 30, 2005this before? Cosmetique. It's like a beauty club where for $25 a month you get samples of different companies' cosmetics.
I'm in month 3 and am loving it. I just wonder if any of you have heard about it, or if I should waste anyone's time blogging about it.
p.s. I am not the "Rose" on the testimonials section.
p.p.s. If you think you are interested in signing up at any point please let me know, as I think I get a free gift if someone I know signs up.
Between that, work, and trying to get in some gaming, I have been indisposed. Although last night I did:
1) get home
4) drink wine
I am working today but hope to blog some later. I have a bunch of stories to tell you. And if everything goes well, I will also have pictures.
How was YOUR holiday? I haven't had time to blog hop much yet to catch up on everyone's stories... what did I miss?
Friday, December 23, 2005
Him: Where you wanna eat?
Me: I dunno.
Him: Seriously, just pick.
Me: I dunno.
Him: Checkers or Boomerang?
Me: That's cool, I think a burger might sound good.
Him: Well, you know *clears throat*
Him: Well, you know Boomer- *clears throat*
Him: You know Boom-(voice gurgling)-erang...
Him: Boom-(voice cracking)-erang is the place...
Him: (voice cracking) You know Boomerang (voice cracking) is the place to get (voice cracking) a good (voice cracking) burger.
Him: (voice cracking) Scoob.
I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Him: that you very much
Me: are you trying to be Elvis?
Him: ya. i need mutton chops.
First of all, let me start a little bit early. You see, S. brought this home for me and I just couldn't stand it, we had to open it and start playing with it WELL before the actual gift-day of the season.
It's an Atari.
Seriously! Okay, so a while back at the BX for under $20 we found the "Atari Anthology" for our PS2. And we brought it home, and I tried to play it. I couldn't get my fingers to work on the PS2 controller the way I needed them to work. I couldn't get the ebb and flow of the game down on the directional buttons, and the analog joystick was far too small for its intended application.
So he had to get me one of these, an Atari Flashback 2 Console. Complete with 40 games and real Atari joysticks. It even looks like a (smaller) Atari console!
No game pause button! No intense graphics! Just beep beep boop boop frrrrrzrp and flashing squares. That's my kinda video game.
So, I've been playing with it on and off since we got it after Thanksgiving on mega-sale at our friendly local BX.
Moving on, because it is a Yule of Relaxation for me, I also got a foot massager! I need this, especially since it has heat. I have a foot problem or two, very mild, but the cold weather brings them out. This will be awesome for me, as I can just curl up with it and nap. I love you, Foot Massager!
And while I am laying on the couch or in the recliner with my tootsies getting massaged with warm, warm love, I will also be able to freak myself the fuck out by watching Nip/Tuck, The Complete Second Season DVD Set. We've seen all of Season 1. I've missed a couple episodes in Season 2. And with the 2-hour season finale the other night, it only made sense that
Then, building up to the fabulous "crescendo gift" that he chose for me, there were a various and sundry array of heatproof silicone spatulas and spoonulas (with stainless steel handles, and blue silicone to match my kitchen decor), a nonstick-friendly wisk with a heatproof silicone coating on the outside, a lovely wine stopper that has a little spout in the top (becuase who really wants to dink around removing a cork and re-corking a wine bottle, when you can put a rubber and stainless steel stopper with its own little "cork" in the spout?) and a digital watch, which I had picked out myself the day after Thanksgiving. It was summarily put away. I have been watch-less. That's hard for me. Uh, what was I saying?
Oh! He also got me a MICROPLANE GRATER which is something I have wanted for a year. A year, I tell you!
We're gettin' gourmet up in this joint, yo.
Which leads us to the final gift. He had to have gone all over hell to try to find this. I had mentioned to him that I want a saucier. C'mon, you know, a saucier. A deep-sided chef's pan with rounded bottom so a wisk can reach all the nooks and crannies. To make sauces in. A saucier.
He did even better.
I got the Calphalon Contemporary Anodized Aluminum Nonstick 3-Qt Chef's Pan which is a part of the "Calphalon Cooking Club Starter Kit." This pan - this amazing, lovely pan - which is absolutely perfect for what I want it for (and it's CALPHALON, hello!) also came with a 6" Calphalon chef's knife (drool), a Calphalon cookbook (haven't looked at it yet but haven't found a cookbook I didn't like) and a nylon kitchen spoon, which is perfect because two weeks ago I broke my last nylon kitchen spoon in half.
Uh, oh my god, he did perfect. PERFECT. I can't imagine getting more things I could use or need or want.
And while of course the holiday is not about presents, but presents are fun, I'd have had a great Yule anyway even with no gifts. We went out and had Thai food and played Everquest until late.
P.S.: I got S. three geeky T-shirts ("tru.dat", "pirates are cooler than ninjas," and "u r teh suck!!!!!111oneone"), a gig of RAM (oozing the geekiness here), a set of hex wrenches, some new mechanic's gloves, a new tool bag, and a poker kit.
It's all good.
Who's coming over for dinner? I've got to break some of this stuff in!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005Betty for the title)
It's Gift Day at Casa Rose.
And lemme tell you boys and girls, and girls and boys, S. done good this year. Not that he failed me last year or anything.
But I have a neato bandito list of fun stuffins for you.
And for those of my wonderful friends who are celebrating other holidays, I'd like to wish you a Happy Five Days Until Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa.
And if I left out the personal holiday of YOUR choice, well, it's Festivus for the rest of us! (Seriously, a wonderful holiday season to all.)
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Apparently, they TRIED to deliver it on Sunday, too, of course, without calling or telling me.
I am very angry and have a message in to FedEx.
Because the package is in the apartment office, which just opened at 9am, although the box has supposedly been there since 4pm yesterday.
Heads will roll. Oh yes, this I promise you. Heads will roll.
On a lighter note, it's snowing beautiful tiny little glistening White Christmas snowflakes outside my window and coating the rooftops so it's giving me something to look at while I am working my life away.
Yesterday while I was driving home from the post office, I saw a squirrel darting thru the snow-fringed tree branches in the neighborhood.
When there's little picture-postcard moments, it makes everything else a little bit easier.
Monday, December 19, 2005
AURGH, I am so totally frustrated with FedEx right now.
In the spirit of holiday sharing, please also go see Andie Pandie because FedEx is SUCH a dirty whore, they're fucking HER too, and she's two states away from me.
And here's the backstory, la la la!
My mom, sent us a very generous three boxes of gifts for Christmas. She called me on Thursday 12/15 to tell me they were ON A TRUCK! Out! For delivery! Thursday! And she called me four times to ask, "Is it Christmas at your house yet??"
By 12:17, one of the boxes had been given a mysterious delivery exception, at 12:17 p.m. It just basically said, "Um, yeah, we aren't gonna deliver this box today, but we'll get back to you about that."
At the end of the day, the OTHER TWO boxes showed a delivery exception at 8:24 a.m. On Thursday. The 15th. Saying that the customer wasn't home or the "business was closed." "Interesting," I thought, since I work at home and had been home all day.
On Friday the 16th, two of the boxes were delivered -- to my apartment office -- which I can see out my window -- because the delivery driver was a lazy fuck. When I called down there to see if they had the boxes, they told me they FedEx guy had been dropping ALL of the complex's boxes in the office rather than delivering them to the units (he didn't even put a post-it on my door to "say" he had "tried" to "deliver" the packages). I called FedEx to complain and told them I wanted the third box delivered ASAP.
What happened with the third box?
Delivery-effin-exception, at 4:57 p.m. I called back FedEx at close to 8pm (they have until 8pm this time of year to deliver ground packages) and was told that the "business was closed" or that I wasn't home at the time he came by. I pointed out that I live in the largest apartment complex in my town, and that the LEASING OFFICE wouldn't be closed at 4:57 on a FRIDAY afternoon. And that the delivery exceptionw was a blatant lie, and I wanted my box.
So Saturday, I get up. I track the box. It is! On! A truck! For! Delivery! I call FedEx and ask to speak to the local OKC terminal, where I talk to a lovely lady who shares my name. And I figure, I've got an "in" with this lady since we both have the same name, so we get along well. And she promises me that the delivery driver has all my info but she puts me on hold, phones the driver, and tells him that I need this box ASAP, and that he needs to deliver it to my door (since my office closes at 4:00 p.m. on Saturdays) and that could he please phone me at EITHER my home number OR my cell number if he has ANY trouble delivering it.
At 9:30pm I still hadn't seen the box and went to bed. Sunday morning I got up and there was a delivery-effin'-exception at 9:41 p.m. on the box. So I called FedEx.
What, pray tell, did the nice woman tell me happened? Oh, okay, get this. Apparently, he had my box on his manifest but not on his truck on Saturday. So when he got back to the warehouse and realized he had never, in fact, phoned me or delivered a package to my smiling face, he marked it with an exception and it is out for delivery.
On the next business day.
Which is not today, becuase I am one with Murphy's Law, and because FedEx are a bunch of freaking hoors.
The "next business day" for FedEx HOME DELIVERY is tomorrow. Tuesday.
I can't even call the local terminal until Tuesday.
Double dog bastards.
So, we had to do 2/3 of "early Christmas present opening" with my mom on the phone last night because she's going to be on a plane to Pennsylvania on Tuesday, and she wanted us to have our gifts before she went out there to have xmas with the rest of the family (unsure why, but happy all the same, as I got a bunch of stuff I wanted and needed).
I dunno. My mom says I should have just driven down to the terminal and kicked someone's ass. I'm thinking for once, perhaps she's right.
Sunday, December 18, 2005Natalie and Pete. This week's topic is "Walls," description of the topic intro is here.
Rules for this writing project, if you would like to participate, can be found here.
Sometimes, I wonder if I even have them. Oh, I know I do just like every human does, you know. The little defense mechanisms that protect us from the nasties that aren't supposed to get us. The little things we learn along the way that keep us from putting our hands on that hot, red burner again.
So I guess to some extent, I have them.
But then I have to wonder about things.
Why did I stay married to a drug-addict alcoholic abusive dipshit for five years, if I really have walls? Why did I not pack his shit and dump it outside the front door every time he failed a drug test and lost a job (or couldn't get a job), why didn't I just leave the house and not come back when he didn't come home for days at a time?
Why did I let my first "real boyfriend" hurt me so badly back when I was 17-21 years old? When I knew that he was sleeping with that other woman although we'd decided to stay virgins "together," and had been together four years, and weren't going to pressure one another into having sex (although we both really wanted to, and I would have if he had just asked me)?
Why did I let my next boyfriend just kind of move in and never go home, even though he couldn't hold down a job, fancied himself a petty thief, couldn't contribute anything financially to the "household," and was in general a worthless lump? A nice guy, of course, but a worthless lump. I did kick him out, you know. And when he put himself into a frenzy and then a catatonic state and I was at the hospital waiting for him to wake up, why did I let myself feel so hurt when his parents said, "You did this to him." I just broke up with him. I did not put him in the hospital. It's not my fault he was bordering on being crazy and would put himself into the hospital over me needing him to be/do something he couldn't. But why do I still carry the pain of that moment around with me?
Why did I let it get to me so much when one serious (live-in, for real) boyfriend put the moves on my roommate who was at the time my best friend, then tell me he couldn't see himself having a "fat girlfriend" (that was 65 pounds ago), continued to cheat on me with a woman that he worked with, and then when I went to move out of the house, gave me some kind of a guilt trip for leaving? Why did I let that hurt me so badly, and why do I still carry around some of my anger and pain over it?
And then there's the other boyfriend who cheated on me, why do I still find myself wondering about the pathetic details of what must be his very lonely life? Why do I bother thinking about how pissed off he makes me? And the hurt he caused me?
I'm not sure I get it.
If I had walls, I wouldn't let myself get hurt repeatedly by the same kind of idiotic behavior. If I truly had walls, I wouldn't let myself be touched so permanently by this type of idiocy.
And now, now that I have a man who loves me, and respects me, takes care of me and looks out for me, suddenly I have no desire for walls in fear that I would shut him out, as much as I would protect myself.
I guess I'm just wall-less.
Friday, December 16, 2005
4) Get it to Fedex. Tonight.
6) 11 recorded statements for one client.
8) Wrap S.'s gifts.
9) Move the tree from the table to the corner.
10) Go to the Commissary to buy more goodies for "Guys Poker Night" on Saturday.
11) Clean the house.
12) Do more laundry.
14a) Actually FREAKING SUBMIT THE ORDER instead of being a dork-ass and leaving it in the "shopping cart," so when you drive all the way to Walgreens, the pictures will actually be ready to pick up.
15b) Have S. stop by Walgreens on his way home to pick them up.
Okay. As of right now I have done
Q: Okay. And which direction were you headed?
A: Oh honey, I don't know. I uh, I was headed north.
Q: Okay. And which lane were you in?
A: I was in the uh, the uh, I don't know how you call it, the outside, the outside lane.
Q: So were you in the lane close to the curb?
Q: You were in the inside left lane?
Q: You weren't in the right lane?
A: Well yes, honey.
Q: Okay, were you in the lane that was right next to the turn lane? The yellow lane?
Q: Okay. That is the left lane. The left lane?
Q: The left lane.
A: The outside left lane. Yes.
*SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM*
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
If you were expecting a holiday card from me and you don't get one this year, please accept my heartfelt apologies. I am the worst person in the world at collecting addresses (as evidenced by how many people I've had to ask, at the last minute, for addresses this week) and I also suck at sending out cards.
If you live abroad and your card is going to an APO, you may very well get it after the holidays. That's how badly I suck.
So I apologize if I was supposed to send you a card and didn't.
But I hope all the cards I send out bring a smile to the folks who get them.
How's that for vague?
Q: So why did you get a ticket?
A: Well there was one witness that said the light was red, and one witness that said the light was green. So the cop said she had to just go by the *boorrrrrrrrruuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuoooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuurp*. Uh. By the book.
I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Well. Our wine rack has 21 bottles of wine in it. It is a 16-bottle rack.
It's "that time" again.
I was over commenting on TunaGirl's blog when I realized I should probably blog about what we are currently going through.
It's Spring Cleaning. In the middle of winter.
Heading into this holiday season, I come from a family where gift-giving is a very big part of the Christmas holiday. I am personally not a huge "gift getting" person, which drives my family absolutely batshit. They will ask me over and over again what I "want" for Christmas, and I will tell them things I "need" (the most recent addition to my "christmas list," for my mother, was replacement heads for my Sonicare toothbrush).
They hate that.
I'm just not a "things" person. Never have been. And now that I work at home, I don't even "need" work clothes or accessories or anything like that.
So this year, when the inevitable questions came firing at me, my family decided to arm themselves with some information and some "beforehand" internet surfing and newspaper ad-reading and catalogue-browsing. And the conversation went something like this:
They said: "Would you use a bread maker?"
(My Heart Said: SHIT YES we would use a breadmaker, YES! The smell of fresh bread! Wafting through the house! Sweet bread! Wheat bread! White bread! Sourdough bread! YES WE NEED A BREAD MAKER)
I said: "We don't eat much bread any more, plus I don't have room in my teeny little kitchen."
They said, "How about a new crock pot? I saw one that was an 8.5 quart crock pot that came with a LITTLE crock pot! For entertaining!"
(My Heart Said: OH MY GOD I SAW THAT IN THE STORE AND IT WAS THE COOLEST EVER AND IT WAS STAINLESS STEEL AND IT WAS SO GREAT AND YES, YES I DEFINITELY WANT THAT.)
I said: "I saw that in the store, and it was really cool. But I already have a 5-quart crockpot, and I just don't know where I'd store an 8.5 quart crock pot."
They said, "Do you need clothes?"
(My Heart Said: Are you freaking kidding me? The closet is overflowing. Don't say yes. Don't say yes. Don't say yes.")
I said: "Yes."
So, you can see what a predicament I'm in.
We've started the process. S. has gone through this big walk-in closet in our office room here, which was a total disaster area a short time ago. This is partially due to the fact that I left him a note that said, "Please, in the name of all that is Holy, clean the office closet out before your wife loses her damn mind." It is also due to the fact that he was looking for something he could not find. However it happened, it happened. And I'm grateful.
Next step is to go through the kitchen cabinets to get rid of even MORE things that I haven't used, find appropriate spots for them, decide if I really need them, and lighten my load so I CAN get some of the new gadgetry I'd love to have.
And then I have to tackle my closet, and get rid of old clothes in favor of new clothes.
All of this must be done while I am trying to prepare for a trip out of town for Xmas, shopping for the remainder of the family who doesn't have gifts bought yet, help S. plan a poker party for the guys in his shop here this weekend (complete with a spread of appetizers) (for which the tiny crock pot would have come in very handy, thankyouverymuch), and dealing with a crippling "time of the month" that makes me want to grab Aunt Flo by her ratty old beehive hairdo and kick her freaking ass.
So how was YOUR day?
Sunday, December 11, 2005Lorelie and Rhianna, how could I NOT do this?
Five Weird Habits.
1) I chew my nails. For those of you that have seen the pictures of me with long, intact fingernails, that is because in order to resist chewing on them I have to have them done. In acrylic. Because acrylic, for some reason, does not taste as good as regular, yummy, chewy fingernail.
2) This one's related to my OCD, which I have in a very limited amount. I am a folder. I fold things. I fold fast food wrappers, cereal boxes, tin foil, plastic wrap, baggies. Yes, I fold garbage. You'd think my house would be spotless enough to eat dinner off the kitchen floor in that instance, but of course it's not. The longer I am married to S., the less I have to fold stuff. It comes from my need to be a control freak.
3) I am a clock-watcher. Chronically. To the point that I have to have a clock to see in every room that I am in. I have the clock on my taskbar on Windows. I also wear a watch. That is, I DID wear a watch up until about two weeks ago, when mine took a raging shit. I know S. bought me another one as a Yule gift, but I am determined to just force myself to not depend on having a watch all the time, and am leaving it in the "Yule Gifts Room" so I can just not freak out every time I look at my wrist and see no watch. I also wake up in the middle of the night, once or twice a night, it seems with the express concern of what time it is, so I have to have a clock that brightly and easily displays the time in a digital format so I can wake up, blink, look at it, and go back to bed.
4) I have to watch The People's Court every day at noon when I take my lunch break. I can't function exactly right unless I have had at least a half an hour's superiority over dumbasses with Judge Marilyn giving them what-for.
5) I put spinach in everything I can when I cook, for the sake of boosting the nutrition of the dish. Pasta? Spinach! Fish? Spinach! Rice? Spinach! Soup? Hell yeah, spinach! Anything spinach can go in and be a part of the dish without freaking someone's ass out, I'm gonna put spinach in it. Because spinach is good for you. And it's all about the iron, baby.
Friday, December 09, 2005ongoing writing project that I found through Natalie, this is installment for week two. The topic is "(In)Discretion".
It's actually a very long story. A very long and drawn out story that involves me post-divorce, finding an old friend who morphed into a new lover, and the struggles of trying to believe that after going through the whole divorce "thing" I could actually be found to be alluring, sexy, desireable, and more than anything else, that I could actually maybe be loved by someone.
Turned out I wasn't loved, I sure as hell didn't feel sexy or desireable except for once in a very great while, and I ended up feeling (and being) betrayed.
We'll call him Wayne, which is not his real name. When I was in the middle of my divorce, Wayne and I found one another after not having spoken for years. Wayne used to carry a torch for me (the kind of torch that involves writing a five-page letter and sending it across the country begging me not to get married, and to instead move to Biloxi, MS and make a life with him, six years prior), and upon meeting up with me for lunch one day declared to me and to what I thought was to everyone in the world, that he still carried the torch for me.
Did that boost my ego? You betcha. Was I going to take advantage of that little ego boost? You betcha. Did I think I could carry a torch back for the guy? Oddly, yes.
So, since I had no husband living with me any longer and Wayne claimed that he was in the process of moving out of his "now-ex-girlfriend's" home, we hung out, spent a lot of time together, comforted one another through our respective breakups, and eventually ended up in the sack. Isn't that the natural progression?
At one point in this little "relationship," we were in the sack and he still hadn't moved out of his "ex-girlfriend's" house. I kept asking him when he was going to get all moved out of there, and back on his own, and away from her (since I had heard such awful, terrible horror stories about what a nasty, cuntish, evil bitch she was) and it was always "probably next week" or "just after I get this one more thing done." After all -- we weren't living together or anything, I just saw him a few nights a week. So, I was more than a little concerned with all the time he was spending with her.
I used to keep journals where I'd "talk to myself" in the journal. And because of my insecurity, I had pages and pages of, "He's sleeping with her. He's fucking her, I know he's fucking her." You see, she was a nasty, cuntish, evil bitch, but apparently she was great in the sack and he didn't hesitate to tell me how much "chemistry" they "used to have" in their relationship. So, I was intimidated.
Now. Wayne was a little bit of a techno geek. Okay, he was a lot of a geek. And he played this online game, which meant he needed to be able to check his e-mail from anywhere. So he set a computer up in my computer room (with my blessing) and set it up to download his e-mail, so he could check it. One Saturday, when he was at his "ex-girlfriend's house" supposedly packing up his belongings to continue forward with his moving, I went into my computer room and his computer was on. He didn't usually leave it on. And the screensaver was on. He didn't usually leave it on. So, I did what any normal caring girlfriend would do.
I hit the desk with a hard hip-check (I don't know, maybe I was vacuuming or something) and the screensaver flickered off. And there was his Outlook In-Box.
I told myself I'd wait for the screen saver to come back on but of course, it didn't. And in his in-box, a newly downloaded e-mail, from his "ex-girlfriend." I read it.
It wasn't the right thing to do, very possibly. But I did find out that he was sleeping with her. How do I know this? Because the e-mail was all about how upset she was that he'd sleep with her and have sex with her but then disappear overnight periodically, and how long did he think she was going to be able to tolerate that kind of behavior.
I won the lottery.
When Wayne came over later that evening, I asked him if he was sleeping with his "ex." He said he was not. I asked him again, if he was sleeping with his "ex." He said again, that he was not.
Then I said, "Maybe you should go read your e-mail, and then come back in here and I'll ask you again."
(Well, at least I was honest.)
He shouted and screamed that I betrayed his privacy and his trust. He vented and moaned that I had lied to him by reading his e-mail. I hadn't actually lied ABOUT reading his e-mail, of course. I was very honest that I read it. I just made it sound like way more of an accident than it really was. He was pretty ticked off. But I knew he'd been cheating. Either he was cheating on her with me, or he was cheating on me with her, or he was cheating on us both, with each other. But he had been caught red-handed. He tried to tell me that he'd never said we'd be exclusive (as if I'd be in a random, open, sexual relationship with someone just 'cuz) and how I was reading much, much more into the relationship than he'd ever admit to being true.
Now. Let's fast-forward, because I was an idiot.
After a small time of "healing" over the whole cheating thing, and being convinced I didn't want to have sex with the guy any more, he finally got his act together about moving out of her house and I still needed a roommate in my house. He was looking for a room to rent, and I had a room. So he moved in.
And he transferred his e-mail address (on the same service provider) to be a satellite address on MY internet account. Or, rather, he had me do it since I was the owner of the account. So, I got to set his password to whatever I wanted it to be, figuring it would be a temporary deal. I set his password to be his name, and figured he'd change it.
Turns out, he didn't.
While he lived at my house I kept catching him surfing on sites like adult*friend*finder, and other sex swap sites. I also caught him one day surfing a site that specialized in Russian wives. The mail-order kind. No, I'm not exaggerating.
And that's the month he was late on the rent.
With the support and interest of my best friend, we set about trying to find out where all his money was going (he was working a $60,000/yr software development job and had very little in the way of obligations for his money; how could he not pay me $350.00?)
Turned out, Wayne never changed his password.
Through the magic of NetMail, I would log on from my work computer into what was effectively MY NetMail account (I was after all paying the bill, and I was after all the owner of his e-mail address at that point) and started finding e-mails from the above-mentioned sex swap site, including his username (very helpful when trying to find someone's profile, to laugh at it) and also from a Russian girl.
Wayne started coming home and talking about how he bought Russian-language CD lessons and how he had "always wanted to learn Russian" and how interested he's always been with "Russian history and culture." I teasingly prodded him and asked questions like, "Gosh, I've known you a really long time and never knew you had such an interest in Russia. Where did all that start?" He would make up intricate lies about things that may or may not have ever happened and their significance in his Quest To Learn Russian. But then he would write back the Russian mailorder bride, and tell her how excited he was to be learning Russian so he could coo at her and compliment her and tell her how much he adored her, in her native language when she came to the US and lived with him.
That's about the time he decided he had to move out (and conveniently forget that he owed me that month's rent, which he still has never paid me).
Wayne, because he had his head so far up his ass, moved out of the house and just hauled his computer back over to his own house (did I mention he OWNED HIS OWN HOUSE through all of this time, and just didn't want to live there because it was clear on the other end of town?). Rather than transferring the e-mail address back onto his own internet account, he just left it on mine. I kept asking him to move it. He kept saying he would. And for every day that he said he would move it, I checked his e-mail since I still owned it.
I saw an e-mail from her thanking him for a certain amount of money that he had wired to her, supposedly for her paperwork that would allow her to leave Russia and finally move "home." Then, two days later, another e-mail from her saying she needed more money. E-mails from him, to her, talking all about how he couldn't wait to have a "woman's touch" around his home and how he couldn't wait to wrap his arms around her and have her in his life. About how he was learning Russian. About how he couldn't wait to make love to her.
And then she'd ask for more money.
I started to feel guilty for reading his e-mail and seeing how deep he was getting suckered into the situation, so one day after asking him to transfer the e-mail address and him saying he would, and not to worry, I changed the password on it. For about half an hour. Just enough that his e-mail would glitch on that end and he wouldn't be able to get it to work (not knowing the address). Then I'd change it back. This went on for about a week, but by the end of the week I was changing the password around for hours at a time. Miraculously, on Friday, he phoned asking me if I could please release the e-mail account.
And then, because I couldn't fuck with him like THAT any more, we set up an account on the sex site he was visiting, with a photoshopped picture I knew he'd find attractive (of someone who wasn't me), tailored to all of his likes and dislikes. A profile created EXACTLY for him. And when he bit, my best friend and I sucked him into an email volley of about three weeks. Catching him in lies, repeatedly asking him to explain himself, asking him questions that we knew he'd feel uncomfortable answering or that he'd have to lie to give a girl the answer she'd want to hear. And he did every slimy, smarmy, awful, terrible thing.
And then right when we knew he was getting so frustrated he'd give up on her, we broke it off with him, citing that he was just too smarmy for us.
The story should end right here, but it doesn't. About a year later, when he contacted me for some reason as if nothing ever happened between us (remember, he still owes me $350.00), I sprung it on him. The best-ever part of the plan.
You see, I'm an amateur photographer. And because Wayne is fairly shy, on the sex site he posted pictures of himself but NOT pictures of his organ, or his naked body. Just pretty much his face. He decided to use pictures that I had taken of him as part of a small photography project I did.
So (and this was part of the very original plan, a year prior) I told him that one of the girls I worked with downtown had seen the photography project I did and "recognized" the shots. And that she told me all about how she'd been corresponding with him through such-and-such site. And what a smarmy ass he was. He just kept saying, "I don't know how she could have recognized those pictures that you have of me." Lying to the last minute. As if he hadn't used them on his online profiles.
I never heard from Wayne again.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
*over and over and over*
Q: Did you have your seat belt on?
Q: Do you have a driver's license?
Q: Did you have passengers in the car with you?
Q: Was William in the car with you?
Q: Ma'am, can you hear me okay?
Q: Was William in the car with you?
A: Uh, no.
Q: So then the "William" on the police report, is that your son?
*slam slam slam slam slam slam slam slam slam slam slam*
For everyone's reading pleasure, I submit: My Skankified Christmas Mad-Lib over at Stacy's place.
And then you'll come back here and tell me I'm a naughty, naughty girl.
Q: Okay. And anybody need an ambulance?
A: I did, they took me to the um, to the hospital.
Q: Why did they take you by ambulance?
A: Because I didn't need to go by helicopter.
Please see the sidebar for the address where you can send holiday greetings to soldiers, airmen, marines, sailors, etc., who are recovering at Walter Reed Hospital from injuries sustained in the war or by any means through their service to this country. I encourage everyone to send a card or five or ten to the hospital and brighten someone's day. It's the best 37 cents you'll spend all season.
Now, scroll down for the new stuff.
The current temperature is: 5 degrees
with a wind-chill of: -10 degrees
Winds from the north at 15mph.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
First of all, last night becuase I didn't rightly want to cook (feeling lazy) and because the little Mexican joint up the street has Fajitas! For! Two! For! $11.99!, we went up the street and had some fajitas.
It's the most guiltless Mexican food I can eat up there, truthfully.
Then we went to Wal-Mart, where I found two pair of thermal underpants for $5 each.
I might have only gotten one, but they had more than one color. And so, because I am a dork who hates the cold but wants to somehow feel sexy and alluring knowing she has thermal pants on underneath her jeans that no one will ever really see anyway, I had to get two colors of thermal pants. You understand. I needed to shake it up a little bit.
Then we watched Victoria's Secret fashion show on CBS and I realized just how insignificant my choice in thermal underpants color really is.
Today? Today, I am going to make a big pot of clam chowder for dinner. S. brought home a few more bottles of that pre-spiced mulled wine from Germany that we can get at our local Shoppette (on-base liquor store) and maybe I'll heat some up tonight. It's going to be a cold one.
Wind chill at -9 degrees. NEGATIVE NINE DEGREES. That's later on tonight.
For now? I'm working, trying to stay warm, watching th steam rise off the hot tub which is mysteriously on in the middle of winter, and waiting for these elusive "snow flurries" and "snow showers" that we are now supposed to get later on this morning. I am also hoping the dog doesn't want to take 30 minutes to take a crap while he's reveling in the cold, as if I have to stay outside for longer than it takes me to get DRESSED to go outside, I'm a cranky girl.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Remember the porn dictation I had a couple of weeks ago?
I had to look up that guy for something.
And I saw his picture.
And he's old.
Old enough that I don't want to hear about him grabbing anybody's ass cheeks.
I officially have a headache.
So if you were me, and I know you're not but sometimes you THINK like me...
... what would YOU think of this out-of-context snippet courtesy of my work for today?
Q: Okay. Was this something that you would do as a maintenance type thing?
Q: Or was this the first time you had done it?
A: What, with him? Or…
Q: Yeah. Yeah. Was this the first time you had done it with him?
A: Yes. I'd been seeing him since about August. But mostly just for stimulation.
.... What is it with me and perverse transcription lately?
Monday, December 05, 2005
I mean, cold-cold.
As in, "zip the liner into my double-triple-quadruple-walled Columbia coat" cold.
And "wear a hat but still pull my hood on" cold.
And "stuff the scarf in there so I can breathe" cold.
That leaves my upper half nice and fairly toasty warm (unless there's wind, which there always is here, which means my fingers get tingly through my cloth gloves) and my lower half freezing through my jeans, cotton undies, single-thickness socks, and tennis shoes.
Because I am a dork.
Friday, December 02, 2005Fricative but seen eleventy-seven other places:
TEN random things you might not know about me.
1. I also studied Portuguese, and at one time spoke better Portuguese than Spanish.
2. My first and second cars were Mustangs.
3. My dream car is a 1964-1/2 Mustang coupe. White.
4. It's my life's dream to climb the Kulkulkan Pyramid at Chichen Itza.
5. I think I was a Mayan in another life.
6. I can't drink Kahlua, it makes me puke.
7. I have severely ingrown toenails on both of my big toes, and will someday want surgery for them.
8. I was vegan for nearly two years.
9. I am a recovering bulimic.
10. I have never taken recreational drugs.
NINE places I’ve visited
2. New Jersey
4. Grand Cayman
7. Mexico (Cabo San Lucas, Los Barriles, Puerto Penasco, San Carlos, Playa Del Carmen)
8. Las Vegas
EIGHT ways to win my heart.
1. Wear glasses
2. Be a great kisser
3. Don't rush me
4. Be honest
5. Don't be a game-player
6. Don't smoke
7. Wear a uniform
8. Cook me dinner, even if you don't know how to cook
SEVEN things I want to do before I die.
1. Climb the Kulkulkan Pyramid at Chichen Itza
2. Take a multi-location trip to view Mayan ruins in the Yucatan
3. Own a 1964-1/2 Mustang
4. Have a baby or two
5. Qualify for a Cook-Off or Bake-Off, where there's big money prizes
6. Go to the Gilroy Garlic Festival
7. Weigh that one weight that I wish I still weighed
SIX things I’m afraid of.
2. Anything that might endanger the health of the baby I'm not pregnant with yet
4. Being wrong
5. Being an idiot
FIVE things I don’t like.
1. Sleeping alone
2. Brussels sprouts
3. Pretentious asshats
4. The way my mother talks to me
5. Worrying about what other people think of me
FOUR ways to turn me off.
1. Be disrespectful
2. Show a lack of common sense
3. Be loud, in an obnoxious attention-whore kind of way
4. Be a racist
THREE things I do everyday.
1. Drink coffee
2. Check my e-mail
3. Freak out in some way, shape or form
TWO things that make me happy.
1. Hubby S. coming home in his uniform and hugging me
2. Cooking a fabulous meal for people I love
ONE thing on my mind right now.
1. Trying not to freak out in some way, shape or form
Oh, that's right, I remember. It was swallowed up in a mountain of work that just. kept. coming.
That's okay though. I'd rather have too much work than not enough, any day. My overflow from other clients more than made up for my one client not coming through with very much work.
It appears that after the holidays, the lawyers who do all the dictation haven't quite gotten back into the swing of things. So there's a whole bunch of us who are waiting - hoping - begging - for every little drop of dictation to be put in the bucket, so we can fight over it and try to dig it out.
Thankfully, I just left all the struggling over minutes of dictation to everyone else, and focused on some well-paying translation projects this week.
So, here's the deal. And in case you can't tell, this is 100% unrelated to the work commenary above.
I've been trying to lose some weight this week (you know, between things like lazing around in the evenings and eating pretzel sticks) and haven't been able to. So, I'm getting ready to get full-bore "back on the wagon," which I haven't been since we got home from the cruise.
But then I did a little bit of thinking.
We had sex during ovulation time.
Which led my head to think, "What if I'm pregnant?" Which then led into a conversation with myself I'm not exactly willing to recreate here, revolving around whether or not I want to put myself through the stress of trying to figure out if I am, in fact, pregnant.
And then somewhere along the line I stopped counting cycle days, so I have no fucking clue if that little twinge I'm feeling means I'm getting close to magic cycle day 28, or if that little twinge I'm feeling means I could be preggers.
Ain't that just how it all works out?
For what it's worth I refuse to believe that I could get preggers on what is technically the "first try," so I don't have my eggs in that basket. But if I pee on a stick next week and it comes up with two lines instead of one, you can bet I'll let you know.
Pregnant or not, I am definitely hormonal if I am talking about peeing on a stick to avoid translating Spanish-speaking people who had car accidents.
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.
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
I am currently pimping:
me @ consumating
I play Everquest II!
Iksar Necromancer, Kithicor
We're trying for a baby!
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