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some things you never outgrow
Jan. 16th, 2010 08:43 pmWhy, yes, I am addicted to Berry Blue Kool-Aid!
Sometimes big girls do cry
Dec. 18th, 2009 08:30 amOMG!!! Today needs to over already. This has been the longest week, like, ever.
Someone recommend me fic for the weekend. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
Someone recommend me fic for the weekend. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
6 Things you may or may not want to know
Dec. 13th, 2009 06:46 pm1. THANK YOU!!!!! to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darlas_mom for my snowflake cookie. That was pretty damn awesome and I am tickled, TICKLED totally and utterly pink. :) That light in the sky over there? Yeah, that's me beaming with the joy.
2. I am way lame and so don't actually don't deserve snowflake cookies on account of my failure to finish the bonus fic forchrisleeoctaves IWRY marathon, even though >lj user="lynne"> very graciously gave me an awesome prompt. *is sad* That light in the sky over there? Just a little dimmer than it was.
3. On the up side the bonus fic/gift prompt is coming along. I'm not totally disgusted by my inability to write at the moment.
4. Kinda, sorta working on this Christmas fic that probably won't actually be finished by Christmas. That sound? That would be the sound of deadlines whooshing right past me.
5. I miss being on LJ, but on account of items two and three, I am pretty damn embarrassed. So, back into hiding I go.
6. I am totally digging onredbrickrose's Of Infinite Space. For the millionth time. Because it is awesome.
7. New Layouts are up at Essential-Imperfect and Spreading Stain. But because I've lost all limited ability to manage HTML and CSS, the code is a mess. *sigh*
Happy Holiday, snowflakes.
darlas_mom for my snowflake cookie. That was pretty damn awesome and I am tickled, TICKLED totally and utterly pink. :) That light in the sky over there? Yeah, that's me beaming with the joy.2. I am way lame and so don't actually don't deserve snowflake cookies on account of my failure to finish the bonus fic for
chrisleeoctaves IWRY marathon, even though >lj user="lynne"> very graciously gave me an awesome prompt. *is sad* That light in the sky over there? Just a little dimmer than it was.3. On the up side the bonus fic/gift prompt is coming along. I'm not totally disgusted by my inability to write at the moment.
4. Kinda, sorta working on this Christmas fic that probably won't actually be finished by Christmas. That sound? That would be the sound of deadlines whooshing right past me.
5. I miss being on LJ, but on account of items two and three, I am pretty damn embarrassed. So, back into hiding I go.
6. I am totally digging on
redbrickrose's Of Infinite Space. For the millionth time. Because it is awesome.7. New Layouts are up at Essential-Imperfect and Spreading Stain. But because I've lost all limited ability to manage HTML and CSS, the code is a mess. *sigh*
Happy Holiday, snowflakes.
(no subject)
Aug. 25th, 2009 10:29 amAt 5:30 in the morning when I should have been brushing my teeth and carefully smoothing my eyebrows into neat arcs, I was sweeping and mopping and scrubbing leftover egg off the plates filling up the sink. Washing silverware huddled around the drain and collecting the glasses littering the coffee table.
Oddly, it wasn't an angry, omg-I-can't-believe-how-dirty-my-house-is kind of cleaning, equal parts frustration and murderous rage. Such as 5 a.m. cleanings usually are. Rather it was an omg-company-is-coming frenzy of there-are-not-enough-hours-in-the-day kind of cleaning. The one that was planned for yesterday and never manifested. The kind that I contemplated while sitting on the couch watching anime and eating a frozen burrito smothered in salsa verde and crema mexicano. It's what I thought about while making my bed and after when I curled up to watch Nathan Fillion be cute on my TV. How I would probably miss breakfast and have to hustle if I wanted to wash the dishes, mop the floor and empty the litter box before I went to work in the morning. How it would help if I jumped out of bed and started as soon as my alarm went off, but how that was so unlikely that it was laughable. As laughable as the idea that I would vacuum the living room before bed so that I wouldn't have to do it in the fifteen minute space between me getting home from work and company showing up at my front door.
Oddly, it wasn't an angry, omg-I-can't-believe-how-dirty-my-house-is kind of cleaning, equal parts frustration and murderous rage. Such as 5 a.m. cleanings usually are. Rather it was an omg-company-is-coming frenzy of there-are-not-enough-hours-in-the-day kind of cleaning. The one that was planned for yesterday and never manifested. The kind that I contemplated while sitting on the couch watching anime and eating a frozen burrito smothered in salsa verde and crema mexicano. It's what I thought about while making my bed and after when I curled up to watch Nathan Fillion be cute on my TV. How I would probably miss breakfast and have to hustle if I wanted to wash the dishes, mop the floor and empty the litter box before I went to work in the morning. How it would help if I jumped out of bed and started as soon as my alarm went off, but how that was so unlikely that it was laughable. As laughable as the idea that I would vacuum the living room before bed so that I wouldn't have to do it in the fifteen minute space between me getting home from work and company showing up at my front door.
The cruise photos of me are everywhere else, it would seem.
( Pictures from the Cruise and a few from Vegas this weekend )
( Pictures from the Cruise and a few from Vegas this weekend )
(no subject)
Jun. 25th, 2009 09:55 pmI will always remember my eigth birthday. I wore a red dress with white polka dots, white ruffled socks and black Mary Janes. Too precious, I know, but back then my mother dressed me and I had yet to learn how to live in jeans.
I remember that my mom put Thriller on the record player after we stuffed ourselves with cake and ice cream, and we danced. Oh, how we danced and danced and danced. Then we played a game, kinda like musical chairs. My mom played a song and you had to freeze in place whenever the music stopped. I don't recall the winner of that particular round. But who could stop dancing with Michael Jackson on the stereo.
Today was very personal for reasons like that memory. I wasn't expecting that.
Rest in Peace, MJ.
I remember that my mom put Thriller on the record player after we stuffed ourselves with cake and ice cream, and we danced. Oh, how we danced and danced and danced. Then we played a game, kinda like musical chairs. My mom played a song and you had to freeze in place whenever the music stopped. I don't recall the winner of that particular round. But who could stop dancing with Michael Jackson on the stereo.
Today was very personal for reasons like that memory. I wasn't expecting that.
Rest in Peace, MJ.
On my list of things to do before I die, watching midget wrestling does not appear. However, once I reach my dotage I am sure that I will be glad to say that I had the guts to get in the car.
The State of Me
Apr. 20th, 2009 08:17 pmOkay, so I've been very absent lately. If you didn't notice, well then, never mind and move along. There's nothing interesting to see here. If you did wonder somewhere in your hind brain, here's the scoop.
It started off with my irritation over RaceFail 09 and sort of got extended. I've had no idea of anything to post or comments to make. It's the same all the way around everywhere. Last week all I heard from my RL peeps was "where you been?" I hadn't realized that I'd fallen quite so completely off the map. I've been disinterested and fatigued and just NOT interested in anything. Period. At all. Well, turns out I'm anemic and that explains my incredible disinterest in pretty much anything that isn't sleeping. I haven't been writing and it doesn't look like I'm going to pull a rabbit out of the hat in time for Grazie Prego. On the to-do list is to let the mods know.
I did, however, complete my first vid. You can find it in the previous post. It's an I Am Legend vid to Lisa Germano's From a Shell. I have ideas for a Buffy vid that may or may not happen seeing how not in love I am with Windows Movie Maker.
As for the anemia, I am feeling better, but I've been in the doldrums since early February. I'm trying to correct the problem through diet and regular multivitamins before I go the iron supplement route. For some reason I'm just balking at the thought of taking them. It's working so far. I actually had a hamburger yesterday for the first time in years. I've been eating beets and I've bought some chicken livers. I think, however, that the multivitamin has been doing the most good. We'll see. I do plan to take the iron supplement (at the lowest possible dosage) and wait and see.
In other news, I am becoming increasingly fond of Dollhouse. November and Sierra are my loves at the moment. I'm fascinated by the morality of the show, but I don't think that it's something I care to discuss. It's not a comfortable show to watch but I like it all the same. I'm also flirting quite shamelessly with Castle which isn't especially good but I get to see the naughty twinkle in Nathan Fillion's eye every week and that's good enough for me. If they don't renew Terminator and Life I just might jump off a building.
As my energy returns I'm shopping up a storm: I'm totally in love with these caged booties by Chinese Laundry and I've bought a sexy pair of bronze heels by Dollhouse. Then there's all of the cute summer dresses, most recently one in coral and one in turquoise.
So ... that's me. I hear there's a Great Migration and I suppose I'll show up once everyone is settled and it's a guarantee. I'm not going through the IJ thing again.
It started off with my irritation over RaceFail 09 and sort of got extended. I've had no idea of anything to post or comments to make. It's the same all the way around everywhere. Last week all I heard from my RL peeps was "where you been?" I hadn't realized that I'd fallen quite so completely off the map. I've been disinterested and fatigued and just NOT interested in anything. Period. At all. Well, turns out I'm anemic and that explains my incredible disinterest in pretty much anything that isn't sleeping. I haven't been writing and it doesn't look like I'm going to pull a rabbit out of the hat in time for Grazie Prego. On the to-do list is to let the mods know.
I did, however, complete my first vid. You can find it in the previous post. It's an I Am Legend vid to Lisa Germano's From a Shell. I have ideas for a Buffy vid that may or may not happen seeing how not in love I am with Windows Movie Maker.
As for the anemia, I am feeling better, but I've been in the doldrums since early February. I'm trying to correct the problem through diet and regular multivitamins before I go the iron supplement route. For some reason I'm just balking at the thought of taking them. It's working so far. I actually had a hamburger yesterday for the first time in years. I've been eating beets and I've bought some chicken livers. I think, however, that the multivitamin has been doing the most good. We'll see. I do plan to take the iron supplement (at the lowest possible dosage) and wait and see.
In other news, I am becoming increasingly fond of Dollhouse. November and Sierra are my loves at the moment. I'm fascinated by the morality of the show, but I don't think that it's something I care to discuss. It's not a comfortable show to watch but I like it all the same. I'm also flirting quite shamelessly with Castle which isn't especially good but I get to see the naughty twinkle in Nathan Fillion's eye every week and that's good enough for me. If they don't renew Terminator and Life I just might jump off a building.
As my energy returns I'm shopping up a storm: I'm totally in love with these caged booties by Chinese Laundry and I've bought a sexy pair of bronze heels by Dollhouse. Then there's all of the cute summer dresses, most recently one in coral and one in turquoise.
So ... that's me. I hear there's a Great Migration and I suppose I'll show up once everyone is settled and it's a guarantee. I'm not going through the IJ thing again.
Another Weary Night on the Town
Mar. 10th, 2009 11:26 amIs it important WHY I want to go home? Why can't it be enough that I just do? But I'm trying not to be difficult, practicing that resolution from two years ago, attempting to be a kinder, gentler me. So, I say, I'm cold and I just want to sleep in my bed. But ZuZuQ pushes and no, I don't want another drink or to hang out or to sleep at Brat the Rat's place or to continue the party.
ZuzuQ is driving and she wants to stay, I can see it in her eyes and suddenly it dawns on me that this little trip down to the shore has less to do with hanging out with Bacardi Girl then it's some desperate attempt to get in time with Brat the Rat. Because all of the sudden, the "I'm sick, I want an early night, I'm on antibiotics and can't drink" thing goes right out the window.
I should have stayed with Sin, she was celebrating her husband's birthday in Beverly Hills and I was perfectly happy, but you wanted to leave.
"Don't worry about it," I say. "I'll take a cab. Not a big deal." Cause really I'm tired and cold and bored and starting to get cranky. I want my bed and my pj's, my lamp and the Flintstones playing in the background on my TV.
"No, no," ZuzuQ insists, ultimately, after she realizes that I'm not bending. "Are you mad at me?" she asks.
I'm not, although everyone likes to believe, always angry. I just don't want to stay out any longer and it's already nearing last call and I've been up since 7.30 a.m. I've shampooed my carpets and spent an hour and a half at the gym. I've been to a birthday dinner and been dragged to two other bars before this last one. I've consumed two cocktails, two beers and a shot, all without dinner. I'm weary and PMS'ing, hanging out with people that I've never really liked and fast approaching the end of my rope.
"I'm not mad," I tell her as gently as possible. "But if you want to stay, that's fine. I'll take a cab."
She says she'll take me home. That was the plan, the agreement and I won't say it, but I don't think its fair that she wants to ditch me for a guy who's been playing her for months (and the worse part is that she knows it and complains about it, and then sets herself up for more).
ZuzuQ wants pizza and I cuddle up with Brat the Rat's spare friend outside the pizzeria. He sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. Maybe it's not fair, but he's easy to lean against and I'm tired and really cold. We chit chat and I'm amazed at how much body heat he doesn't give off. I sit there with my eyes slowly blinking at the unfortunate shenanigans of girls looking for attention and try to talk him into going inside and eating, too. I'm really not hungry and I definitely don't need a babysitter. So, if he wants to eat ... because he keeps claiming that he's hungry. I can sit by myself just as comfortably as I can leaning against him. I feel like he's staking a claim, marking territory for the unattached guys looking for a last minute date to help fill up the leftover hours of the night. I'm not interested. Not in anyone or anything.
Dropping the guys off is when I start to get pissy because I'm tired of repeating myself. Tired of the questions, the why's. I've made my statement and I should have just walked out of the bar and gone to get a cab. It would have been easier.
After we drop off a slightly annoyed Spare, Brat the Rat makes an unfortunate comment.
"See, that's why we think you don't like guys," he says. As if I'm supposed to be flattered by a last minute pick-up. As if that's supposed to be enough and I'm supposed to be thankful that some guy I don't know wants to pass the time. Like he's doing ME the favor. And that's what tips the scale, but I'm still trying to reel in my temper.
"I'm tired, I'm cold and I'm on my fucking period," I say.
His stupid, typical guy response is: "I've made out with girls on their period before."
It's quiet and I think he might have realized the line he just crossed. I take a deep breath and try not to yell and not to be angry because I don't care about this guy and I hate expending energy on stupid people and I really, really, really hate loosing my temper.
But I took a deep breath and proceeded to do just that.
"I'll be fucking bleeding for the next four days," I say. "Just in case you didn't know what that means, and I don't want to be touched by anybody." And that's the truth. Probably more truth than he was expecting. Definitely more than he bargained for because then I peeled off on a tangent about how good ZuzuQ was at wasting her time on guys and how he was the biggest waste of her time.
I went off well and truly and I regret it in a teeny, bitty portion of my soul because I was being bitter and a little foolish. But I get that way sometimes. I don't care and things don't bother me until they do. Until someone drops that last hair on the pile of hay and the camel's back cracks like an egg.
ZuzuQ laughed the whole time and thought that it was awesome that I did her dirty work for her. That I was the one to tell him off and if I burned a bridge or two, then who cared.
The thing is, I like Brat the Rat. He's a nice guy, but he seems to be working really hard to be an ass. Or maybe he's an ass pretending to be a nice guy. I gave up on guys a while ago, so maybe my radar is way off.
Honest to gods, I'm done listening to ZuzuQ complain about him. From now on, I'll have to be the one to drive so that when I'm ready to go, I can just go.
ZuzuQ is driving and she wants to stay, I can see it in her eyes and suddenly it dawns on me that this little trip down to the shore has less to do with hanging out with Bacardi Girl then it's some desperate attempt to get in time with Brat the Rat. Because all of the sudden, the "I'm sick, I want an early night, I'm on antibiotics and can't drink" thing goes right out the window.
I should have stayed with Sin, she was celebrating her husband's birthday in Beverly Hills and I was perfectly happy, but you wanted to leave.
"Don't worry about it," I say. "I'll take a cab. Not a big deal." Cause really I'm tired and cold and bored and starting to get cranky. I want my bed and my pj's, my lamp and the Flintstones playing in the background on my TV.
"No, no," ZuzuQ insists, ultimately, after she realizes that I'm not bending. "Are you mad at me?" she asks.
I'm not, although everyone likes to believe, always angry. I just don't want to stay out any longer and it's already nearing last call and I've been up since 7.30 a.m. I've shampooed my carpets and spent an hour and a half at the gym. I've been to a birthday dinner and been dragged to two other bars before this last one. I've consumed two cocktails, two beers and a shot, all without dinner. I'm weary and PMS'ing, hanging out with people that I've never really liked and fast approaching the end of my rope.
"I'm not mad," I tell her as gently as possible. "But if you want to stay, that's fine. I'll take a cab."
She says she'll take me home. That was the plan, the agreement and I won't say it, but I don't think its fair that she wants to ditch me for a guy who's been playing her for months (and the worse part is that she knows it and complains about it, and then sets herself up for more).
ZuzuQ wants pizza and I cuddle up with Brat the Rat's spare friend outside the pizzeria. He sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. Maybe it's not fair, but he's easy to lean against and I'm tired and really cold. We chit chat and I'm amazed at how much body heat he doesn't give off. I sit there with my eyes slowly blinking at the unfortunate shenanigans of girls looking for attention and try to talk him into going inside and eating, too. I'm really not hungry and I definitely don't need a babysitter. So, if he wants to eat ... because he keeps claiming that he's hungry. I can sit by myself just as comfortably as I can leaning against him. I feel like he's staking a claim, marking territory for the unattached guys looking for a last minute date to help fill up the leftover hours of the night. I'm not interested. Not in anyone or anything.
Dropping the guys off is when I start to get pissy because I'm tired of repeating myself. Tired of the questions, the why's. I've made my statement and I should have just walked out of the bar and gone to get a cab. It would have been easier.
After we drop off a slightly annoyed Spare, Brat the Rat makes an unfortunate comment.
"See, that's why we think you don't like guys," he says. As if I'm supposed to be flattered by a last minute pick-up. As if that's supposed to be enough and I'm supposed to be thankful that some guy I don't know wants to pass the time. Like he's doing ME the favor. And that's what tips the scale, but I'm still trying to reel in my temper.
"I'm tired, I'm cold and I'm on my fucking period," I say.
His stupid, typical guy response is: "I've made out with girls on their period before."
It's quiet and I think he might have realized the line he just crossed. I take a deep breath and try not to yell and not to be angry because I don't care about this guy and I hate expending energy on stupid people and I really, really, really hate loosing my temper.
But I took a deep breath and proceeded to do just that.
"I'll be fucking bleeding for the next four days," I say. "Just in case you didn't know what that means, and I don't want to be touched by anybody." And that's the truth. Probably more truth than he was expecting. Definitely more than he bargained for because then I peeled off on a tangent about how good ZuzuQ was at wasting her time on guys and how he was the biggest waste of her time.
I went off well and truly and I regret it in a teeny, bitty portion of my soul because I was being bitter and a little foolish. But I get that way sometimes. I don't care and things don't bother me until they do. Until someone drops that last hair on the pile of hay and the camel's back cracks like an egg.
ZuzuQ laughed the whole time and thought that it was awesome that I did her dirty work for her. That I was the one to tell him off and if I burned a bridge or two, then who cared.
The thing is, I like Brat the Rat. He's a nice guy, but he seems to be working really hard to be an ass. Or maybe he's an ass pretending to be a nice guy. I gave up on guys a while ago, so maybe my radar is way off.
Honest to gods, I'm done listening to ZuzuQ complain about him. From now on, I'll have to be the one to drive so that when I'm ready to go, I can just go.
Keep it Real, Mr. Obama
Jan. 20th, 2009 10:04 amI think, at a first glance, the inauguration speech was what I wanted. "Hope over fear, unity over conflict." Inspiring and encouraging, but also very real about the state of the nation and how we got here. He didn't really spare anyone, but was also very inclusive about taking on the challenges ahead and the responsibilites of action.
Time will only tell whether or not he will live up to the ambitions of that speech, and it is ambitious, but why not ... If a black man can be president, well, at this point, anything is possible.
Time will only tell whether or not he will live up to the ambitions of that speech, and it is ambitious, but why not ... If a black man can be president, well, at this point, anything is possible.
OMG! YAY!!
Jan. 20th, 2009 07:50 amI really wonder if people who are not "of color" really comprehend the magnitude of today for the "others" in the country. There is a great deal of validation and surprise and pride because, honest to god, at 31 (almost 32) I never thought that this would happen before I was way old and gray. Racism is alive and well in this country, but now I find myself questioning my established idea that it isn't something that can be set aside (at least for a little while) in favor of the common good. Not that Obama is the best thing since sliced bread. He's a man and a politician, but, in the end, I think that he may just be what's best for the country right now, in this moment. I am stunned and thrilled and amazed.
One of my co-workers who is a 40-ish white woman (that I think is totally the bee's knees, btw) said way back after November 4th that she wasn't surprised by the election's outcome. She had thought he could win even though she voted for the other guy. It was in that moment that I was struck, very close to home, by the differences in our lived experiences. I mean, I know the differences exist, but I take it for granted that other people know, too. I work very hard (in accumulating life experiences and friends) to make color and race as much of a non-starter as *I* can. It's not something that I can control for other people, but for me it's only a component of my life, but it's also something that I never, ever forget about. Outside of my constructed life it is always the elephant in the room. Or at least I thought it was. Maybe not always. And it's pretty damn cool to think that other people don't think that I'm a second class citizen.
As cliched as it may sound, its also pretty cool to think that young children will be able to look up and say, one day I could be the president of the United States. There's a model, now. It's happened. People will see and they will believe. Now, we just gotta get a woman in there. :)
Between Friends
Jan. 16th, 2009 09:08 amI think about calling you and then don't. There's something about the distance in years and miles that is daunting. Something in the weight of expectation that colored the year when we lived in the same city and that has now faded, dashed by the things that happened when I wasn't looking.
The conversation would be awkward and stilted, anyway. Not really a conversation at all, just small things said to someone you haven't seen in a very long time. Your gentle voice and me hemming and hawing about What I Am Up To Now. Tongue tied around the words that I refuse to say, marble-mouthed with the answers to questions I won't share. Or, perhaps, a word here and there spoken in the language of reluctance that make no real sense at all.
We are Adults and we have Moved On. You've gotten married and had a baby. My mother died and then my grandparents, and an aunt and a not-yet-born baby cousin. I'm loathe to rain on your parade and remain lock-jawed and embarrassed, the weight of my disappointments an awkward silence between us.
Maybe I'll send you a card instead or books for the baby. Then you can be happy and, with my pride mostly in tact, I can be happy for you, too.
The conversation would be awkward and stilted, anyway. Not really a conversation at all, just small things said to someone you haven't seen in a very long time. Your gentle voice and me hemming and hawing about What I Am Up To Now. Tongue tied around the words that I refuse to say, marble-mouthed with the answers to questions I won't share. Or, perhaps, a word here and there spoken in the language of reluctance that make no real sense at all.
We are Adults and we have Moved On. You've gotten married and had a baby. My mother died and then my grandparents, and an aunt and a not-yet-born baby cousin. I'm loathe to rain on your parade and remain lock-jawed and embarrassed, the weight of my disappointments an awkward silence between us.
Maybe I'll send you a card instead or books for the baby. Then you can be happy and, with my pride mostly in tact, I can be happy for you, too.
OMG!
Seymour Sigmund has officially declared Sharkeez to be the devil and I am inclined to agree. Last night was OUT OF CONTROL! I was all revelry and mayhem in four and a half inch heels.
You guys.
You guys!!
I got kicked out of the bar for excessive drunkeness. The hinge in my knees came loose and me and the ground were really interested in getting to know one another. I NEVER get that drunk. NEVER EVER EVER! I still don't know how that happened. I woke up at 5.30 this morning on Seymour Sigmund's couch and was all "What happened?" The tales are rolling in, but the most mortifying part of it all was that I had to be carried out. WTF?! I am TOO OLD for that shit. Not to mention that I KNOW better. And sadly, I don't remember if I had a good time. I think I did. The pictures all point to the yes on that, but ... my memory is all swiss cheese.
Of course, there was mucho alcohol. I remember three Palomas at the house (tasty), then double-damned Shark Attacks at the bar, two Captain and Coke's, a beer, and a Kamikazee shot (the last thing I remember about the night). Holy Cow! No wonder it's all a blur. The question probably shouldn't be what happened, rather it should be what the hell was I thinking.
Seriously.
( Photographic evidence under the cut )
Seymour Sigmund has officially declared Sharkeez to be the devil and I am inclined to agree. Last night was OUT OF CONTROL! I was all revelry and mayhem in four and a half inch heels.
You guys.
You guys!!
I got kicked out of the bar for excessive drunkeness. The hinge in my knees came loose and me and the ground were really interested in getting to know one another. I NEVER get that drunk. NEVER EVER EVER! I still don't know how that happened. I woke up at 5.30 this morning on Seymour Sigmund's couch and was all "What happened?" The tales are rolling in, but the most mortifying part of it all was that I had to be carried out. WTF?! I am TOO OLD for that shit. Not to mention that I KNOW better. And sadly, I don't remember if I had a good time. I think I did. The pictures all point to the yes on that, but ... my memory is all swiss cheese.
Of course, there was mucho alcohol. I remember three Palomas at the house (tasty), then double-damned Shark Attacks at the bar, two Captain and Coke's, a beer, and a Kamikazee shot (the last thing I remember about the night). Holy Cow! No wonder it's all a blur. The question probably shouldn't be what happened, rather it should be what the hell was I thinking.
Seriously.
( Photographic evidence under the cut )
Whimsy on the Ride
Oct. 7th, 2008 06:33 pmThis morning on my way to work, cruising up a semi-darkened street, I saw a woman growing out of a trash can. I saw her head and a bit of her shoulders peeking above the rim. She was looking straight at me, mildly annoyed that I had caught her growing in such an improbable place. I blinked the dawn out of my eyes -- red mist, dusty skies, and the thinnest gold edge of sun -- and realized that the woman was standing beside the trash can and was not growing out of it as she waited for the bus.
Later, on the way home from work, coasting down the hill to the last light before the right turn that leads to my street, a motorcycle pulled up along side me. We both stopped at the light. I stretched and glanced over to find a bent old man wearing a blue sweatshirt, khaki pants and orthopedic shoes perched comfortably on a fancy, shiny, red motorcycle. As he sped off, I noticed a tiny American flag tucked just over the rear license plate. Old Man Granddaddy looked so serious sitting there in his khakis, helmet and orthopedic shoes with that tiny flag waving at his back.
Later, on the way home from work, coasting down the hill to the last light before the right turn that leads to my street, a motorcycle pulled up along side me. We both stopped at the light. I stretched and glanced over to find a bent old man wearing a blue sweatshirt, khaki pants and orthopedic shoes perched comfortably on a fancy, shiny, red motorcycle. As he sped off, I noticed a tiny American flag tucked just over the rear license plate. Old Man Granddaddy looked so serious sitting there in his khakis, helmet and orthopedic shoes with that tiny flag waving at his back.
These are tears of joy
Sep. 29th, 2008 01:22 amYesterday we married off Sin. She was a beautiful, beautiful bride. We all kinda cried as she walked down the aisle. Then we laughed as Stevie Wonder's Superstitious floated out over the field from the reception down the hill and across the street. The day was gorgeous and the ceremony was absolutely lovely.
Afterwards, we had wine and danced until our feet hurt.
Afterwards, we had wine and danced until our feet hurt.
I am brown. Nut brown! I love it. Usually there's a lot of yellow in my skin, I get pretty pale in the winter. But right now, I am brown, tanned, and I LOVE it. LOVE IT!!
YAY for summer.
Now, the trick will be not to end up like a charcoal briquette.
YAY for summer.
Now, the trick will be not to end up like a charcoal briquette.
I am not a real girl
Jun. 19th, 2008 12:28 amI have an interview tomorrow.
The Recruiter keeps telling me to be upbeat and personable.
I thought that I *was* being up-beat and personable.
...
Apparantly, I fail at personality.
The Recruiter keeps telling me to be upbeat and personable.
I thought that I *was* being up-beat and personable.
...
Apparantly, I fail at personality.
diachrony asked me to talk about my love for my skivvies and my shoes.Yeah, so I've got a deep down yen for girly panties and stiletto heels. Two great tastes that definitely taste great together. Not that that is what my love is about. No, no, not at all. They're seperate passions and only occasionally come together for rollicking good times.
Why do I love these things, you ask? Well, let me tell you about it.
There is an exchange from the movie In Her Shoes, which I assume is also in the book but which I haven't read, between the main protagonists who happen to be sisters. Cameron Diaz, tall, svelte, gorgeous plays Maggie and her sister, the shorter, curvier, plainer Rose is played by Toni Collette. Rose comes home and catches Maggie plundering her shoe collection:
Maggie Feller: Shoes like these should not be locked in a closet! They should be living a life of scandal, and passion and getting screwed in an alleyway by a billionaire while his frigid wife waits in the limo thinking that he just went back into the bar to get his cellphone. These are cute too.
Rose Feller: Please tell me you just made that up.
Maggie Feller: Look, if you're not going to wear them... don't buy them! Leave them for someone who's going to get something out of them.
Rose Feller: I get something out of them! When I feel bad I like to treat myself. Clothes never look any good... food just makes me fatter... shoes always fit.
And that it, right there! Shoes always fit. When I go shopping and I can't find anything that I like, when I'm convinced that I'm fat and ugly and evil and who could possibly want me, when I'm despondent and depressed or just in a particularly foul mood, shoes ALWAYS perk me right on up. They ALWAYS fit. Sure, there is sometimes a little haggling to be done -- depending on the manufacturer and the style I can go from a 7 to a 7 1/2 -- but shoes work for me.
( Stiletto, I look at it more as an attitude as opposed to a high-heeled shoe. )
I am very tired.
Tired of a lot of things that aren't really worth mentioning and some things that are the same old thing, but I'm too tired to whine all that much.
There are a lot of things that need writing, but my ability to be really coherant seems to have fled with the wind. I owe loads of people blog posts.diachrony gave me a nudge that I TOTALLY and UTTERLY deserve. I have been lazy about it. There's also two book reviews and a couple more movie reviews. Two fic are floating around, also. Unfortuantely, I don't feel especially clever. Just tired.
So ... just because I can and want to I've made a list of things that make me happy. (In no particular order)
1. Happy Baby pose
2. Child's pose
3. Spin
4. Ninja Warrior (esp. Makoto Nagano and Shunsuke Nagasaki)
5. The Unbeatable Banzuke
6. Olivia Munn
7. Legos Star Wars (the Original Trilogy)
8. sleep
I'd do that meme about making me feel better by quoting, but, well ... number 8 on the list is awfully tempting right now.
Tired of a lot of things that aren't really worth mentioning and some things that are the same old thing, but I'm too tired to whine all that much.
There are a lot of things that need writing, but my ability to be really coherant seems to have fled with the wind. I owe loads of people blog posts.
diachrony gave me a nudge that I TOTALLY and UTTERLY deserve. I have been lazy about it. There's also two book reviews and a couple more movie reviews. Two fic are floating around, also. Unfortuantely, I don't feel especially clever. Just tired.So ... just because I can and want to I've made a list of things that make me happy. (In no particular order)
1. Happy Baby pose
2. Child's pose
3. Spin
4. Ninja Warrior (esp. Makoto Nagano and Shunsuke Nagasaki)
5. The Unbeatable Banzuke
6. Olivia Munn
7. Legos Star Wars (the Original Trilogy)
8. sleep
I'd do that meme about making me feel better by quoting, but, well ... number 8 on the list is awfully tempting right now.
these wide open spaces
Apr. 7th, 2008 06:17 pmBetty got a fancy new security system Saturday, and a radio that doesn't hold the frequencies. She's going back on account of the static-y radio, a problem that I never had even when it was just a factory radio and definitly not when it was the $150.00 JVC. Pioneer is supposed to be a good brand and the recommendation for this place came high, so I hope they can fix the problem. The owner of the shop assured me that I should just bring her in if there were ANY problems or if I had ANY questions, even if it were something that could be answered in the Owner's Manual. well, I looked in the Owner's Manual and there's nothing about repairing static-y reception.
The alarm works like a dream so far. It unlocks the doors for me when I turn off the engine (which I don't like) and it locks them for me when I hit reverse (which I don't need). Apparantly, there are a lot of lazy people out there who don't lock and unlock their own doors. The little button is right there beside my elbow, it's really not a stretch to reach for it. But there IS a bright, neon blue light that you can see for miles and miles winking from the dashboard and I love that. If that little flashing light isn't a deterent then I don't know what is. Maybe the club stretched across the steering wheel and braced between the door and the seat.
I'm still exhausted and now there's a rather insistent headache throbbing behind my eyes. I'd like to take a pill and sleep it off. Sleep for hours and days until my eyes aren't sandpaper gritty or achingly heavy. Too bad there's stuff to do, like taking Betty back to Sound Tech and going to the Police Station to pick up a copy of the police report to send in with the parking tickets that I will not be paying. I also need to apply to jobs and clean my room and do a couple of loads of laundry. There's a rough draft for an essay on BtVS as feminist text written in long hand that needs to be typed up and revised. I need to complete the reviews for My Super-Ex Girlfriend and The Brave One. There's a long list of movies that I've seen recently. I'd like to review them all, but well, we'll see. There's also the review for The Looking Glass Wars that I'm trying to gently curb. It's looking very much like an anti-rec at the moment and it's very long. Then there's what will be my lynnevitational fic and I feel as if I could work on it. I'd also like to squeeze in time to read Threshold, it's been in my purse for a week and I'm only on page 33. That fact has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the novel and everything to do with my severe lack of time. I can't read it at night before bed because once I start reading, time evaporates on me -- gone in sixty seconds -- and we're still having that sleep issue so the earlier I hit the sack, the better.
I tried to sleep in this weekend and never made it past 7.30.
There really aren't enough hours in a day. And that is annoying. I always think, well there's always the weekend. There are plenty of hours in the weekend, but inevitably those hours end up slipping by while I'm doing something unplanned and unexpected. Saturday, Betty got her flashy new alarm and the stereo that doesn't quite work, and then I helped ZuZuQ paint the walls in her new digs. Turns out I'm good at painting walls. Sunday I picked up a new TV stand and then rearranged the living room. It looks a shambles in there because I was too tired to clean it properly afterwards. It took hours and hours to do what I did do because first the old entertainment center had to be deconstructed and then the new one re-assembled, then there were sundry wires that had to be re-connected and plugs that needed to be re-plugged. There's a lot more floor space now, with the couchs moved and the smaller TV stand not taking up a quarter of the room, so I did stretch out and enjoy the floor for a few minutes.
I had to go to the market, too, before it got to late and Costco closed. Then there was dinner to make and a little ice cream to eat and I ended up passed out on the corner of my bed right after while trying to watch What Not to Wear. I woke up in time for an episode of The Unbeatable Banzuke and Mr. Ninja Warrior doing 200-some-odd push-ups in the Muscle challenge. He didn't win, unfortunately, he never wins anything. Poor Guy.
So, now, here I am, working at a job that I don't like with a list of things that need doing, including finding a new job that I *do* like. I'm really distracted and I'd rather be asleep or writing or getting Betty's radio fixed or flirting with the baby baristas I met on Saturday while Betty was getting her innards prodded. One of them called me ma'am and I almost fell out on the floor. I made him apologize and promise not to do it again.
The alarm works like a dream so far. It unlocks the doors for me when I turn off the engine (which I don't like) and it locks them for me when I hit reverse (which I don't need). Apparantly, there are a lot of lazy people out there who don't lock and unlock their own doors. The little button is right there beside my elbow, it's really not a stretch to reach for it. But there IS a bright, neon blue light that you can see for miles and miles winking from the dashboard and I love that. If that little flashing light isn't a deterent then I don't know what is. Maybe the club stretched across the steering wheel and braced between the door and the seat.
I'm still exhausted and now there's a rather insistent headache throbbing behind my eyes. I'd like to take a pill and sleep it off. Sleep for hours and days until my eyes aren't sandpaper gritty or achingly heavy. Too bad there's stuff to do, like taking Betty back to Sound Tech and going to the Police Station to pick up a copy of the police report to send in with the parking tickets that I will not be paying. I also need to apply to jobs and clean my room and do a couple of loads of laundry. There's a rough draft for an essay on BtVS as feminist text written in long hand that needs to be typed up and revised. I need to complete the reviews for My Super-Ex Girlfriend and The Brave One. There's a long list of movies that I've seen recently. I'd like to review them all, but well, we'll see. There's also the review for The Looking Glass Wars that I'm trying to gently curb. It's looking very much like an anti-rec at the moment and it's very long. Then there's what will be my lynnevitational fic and I feel as if I could work on it. I'd also like to squeeze in time to read Threshold, it's been in my purse for a week and I'm only on page 33. That fact has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the novel and everything to do with my severe lack of time. I can't read it at night before bed because once I start reading, time evaporates on me -- gone in sixty seconds -- and we're still having that sleep issue so the earlier I hit the sack, the better.
I tried to sleep in this weekend and never made it past 7.30.
There really aren't enough hours in a day. And that is annoying. I always think, well there's always the weekend. There are plenty of hours in the weekend, but inevitably those hours end up slipping by while I'm doing something unplanned and unexpected. Saturday, Betty got her flashy new alarm and the stereo that doesn't quite work, and then I helped ZuZuQ paint the walls in her new digs. Turns out I'm good at painting walls. Sunday I picked up a new TV stand and then rearranged the living room. It looks a shambles in there because I was too tired to clean it properly afterwards. It took hours and hours to do what I did do because first the old entertainment center had to be deconstructed and then the new one re-assembled, then there were sundry wires that had to be re-connected and plugs that needed to be re-plugged. There's a lot more floor space now, with the couchs moved and the smaller TV stand not taking up a quarter of the room, so I did stretch out and enjoy the floor for a few minutes.
I had to go to the market, too, before it got to late and Costco closed. Then there was dinner to make and a little ice cream to eat and I ended up passed out on the corner of my bed right after while trying to watch What Not to Wear. I woke up in time for an episode of The Unbeatable Banzuke and Mr. Ninja Warrior doing 200-some-odd push-ups in the Muscle challenge. He didn't win, unfortunately, he never wins anything. Poor Guy.
So, now, here I am, working at a job that I don't like with a list of things that need doing, including finding a new job that I *do* like. I'm really distracted and I'd rather be asleep or writing or getting Betty's radio fixed or flirting with the baby baristas I met on Saturday while Betty was getting her innards prodded. One of them called me ma'am and I almost fell out on the floor. I made him apologize and promise not to do it again.
