Picture012.jpeg

Dropping the gloves.

Nice seats, 'eh? ;-)

Things have been a little nutty here, on many different levels. (Sidenote: Saturday night was a perfect surreal example.) I've realized that I'm going to have to make some unpopular decisions, which may alienate some decent, talented people. 1. I hate confrontation. 2. I hate being "unpopular". Yes, yes - I know. It's time for me to buckle down, and understand the cause is far more important than my insecurity. Stiff upper lip, and all that jazz.

So, last night I did what any intelligent, together female would do. I showered, put on my pajamas, and hit the couch (with my comfy blanket) at 8:00 p.m. I ate chips and salsa, drank a glass of wine, and watched Antiques Roadshow. I dozed off and woke up around 9:00 p.m. I put myself to bed, and woke up (much later) around 1:00 a.m. I realized another thing. Even though I've done it many times, I don't do "alone" well. I tend to think too much, and freak out, and worry, and then find it damn near impossible to fall asleep again. I tried to be productive, and thought folding clothes would be a nice, repetitive thing to do, but I found out the heating element on the dryer was broken. This reminded me of this cool article I read in Oprah's latest issue of "O" mag about equilibrium. Whenever something knocks your ass off of the teeter-totter remember something equally good and uplifting so that you can regain your balance. The washer and dryer needed replacing anyway. No big deal. I cleaned the bathroom instead. I eventually fell asleep again, and am now procrastinating the inevitable a bit longer.

Did I mention that I hate confrontation, and not being loved by everyone? ;-)

Tonight there'll be more craziness, like pumpkin carving, and the watching of Charlie Brown's classic Halloween special. I might even spin a little Tony Bennett or Sinatra later. Woo!

p.s. Am I the only person who (generally) doesn't care for the "live" album?
What sort of person doesn't like "This Is Spinal Tap"?
I am going to Vote, already!

The last few times I've gone the gym the music has been the typical Gary Glitter/B.T.O./Foreigner/Rolling Stones sort of arena-rock music. About halfway through circuit training this morning they played "I Touch Myself".

??

It was very crowded, and I tried not to giggle. I really did. Especially at the end of the song when Ms-Divynl's-Woman repeats "I Touch Myself" fifty-six times. (I don't know if I will ever grow up.)

Now that stupid song has been stuck in my head all morning. Oww.

(Sidenote: I once had "Rapper's Delight" stuck in my head for over a year.)

Have a nice weekend.

national breast cancer awareness month

Please do whatever it takes to help find a cure. Donate your time, talent, gifts, and/or services.

Have a nice day.

who needs men? (aka yet another wild saturday night...)

Gift from a clever friend. It made me laugh. Ha ha. Get it? Get it??

Friends open a bottle of wine for you while you take bad pictures of them.

Friends cover their coffee tables with sheets from Wal Mart for you. You crack them up with salty talk while you all drink the wine.

Pajama-party at my house in December.

sex

Later ~ Self-Edit:

Previously (briefly) posted stuff: not what I wanted to say at all. I'll get the proper words, I promise. I can do better.

I'll have to elaborate later. I wish I could go on, but life has opened up yet another can...

i should've come with a warning label

What keeps you strong in times of personal crisis? How do you keep faith in humankind?

I'm at one of those "fuck it all" crossroads. I can't change the way I am. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

The good news? I worked a golf tournament yesterday, and earned a $15,000 donation for the A.C.S. I was the "hospitality". I power-flirted. (Actually, I'm quite good at that.) I'm getting ready to pitch more ideas at lunch.

The bad news? Can't tell.

I'm going to take a break. Don't forget about me. Make me laugh. Make me laugh so hard I cry.

Tomorrow ~ Sex, Guys, and Measuring Tape

down with love

I'm done.

:'-(

blame it on my body parts and internal organs

My head is always getting it's pigtails pulled by my heart. There are some days the abuse seems relentless. You know the drill. Head: "It would be logical if you did blah-de-blah." Heart (raised eyebrow, hands-on-hips): "Yeah. Suuure." (Walks away and does as it damn well pleases, leaving head, tsk tsking.)

There are times my head wants to retaliate against my heart. Teach it a lesson. Make it listen up, and take notes. My head pities my foolish heart.

Yesterday my head was battling for control. My heart was feeling underappreciated. (Note I say "under", not "un". The brain that resides in my head knows I'm appreciated. Sometimes.) My head kept telling my heart to "snap out of it", but my heart went ahead and vented, and felt like an idiot later.

Then along came Sam, singing an animated version of Light and Day, and my internal fracas was silently replaced by a grin on my face.

I thought to myself, "This is stupid. Why should my heart and my head always be fighting, or at best barely cordial with each other. Sometimes they're opposites. So what?"

So they called a truce, at least for the day, and I was finally able to listen to my stomach.

Tacos!

My lead foot kicked my ass for having to write a check for $200 to take care of my moving violation. (Coulda been worse, 'eh?)

Later, my inner-thighs got a good workout, (along with my legs, arms, back, chest, backside, and abs.)

While doing my miles on the bike, I got to read a little more of my book, and grin while I read the following passage (thank you, Tom Robbins):

I sure picked a fine time to get horny, you think. You make a face, inasmuch as one can make a face while kissing. "Horny" is a proletarian expression. A cartoonish word. A word for clowns, galoots, and adolescents. My desires may be crude, but they aren't frivolous. It would take a far more complicated and heartfelt word than "horny" to measure the dimensions of my wet itch.

Hrm.

Later, in the shower, my head and my heart were getting along just fine. It's too soon to call it happily-ever-after, but at least I've got a new bit of insight.

I'm able to look forward to what I hope will be a successful meeting tonight.

p.s. I also purchased a new printer/scanner/copier and installed it all by myself. (While singing along to this tune, I might add.) Not small potatoes for a gal like me.

p.p.s.

B&W
Originally uploaded by none too shabby.

Testing flickr, and my newly acquired techno-confidence. Grrr. :)

p.p.p.s.

As you all know, I love to bathe, and I enjoy smelling nice. I'm going to do a little shopping at High Street Soap. It's right up my alley.

At the moment I'm trying to keep all the plates spinning, with one hand tied behind my back. I'm surely headed for a breakdown.

Before I wig out, most of you probably already know October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Since this is a cause near and dear to my heart, I'm always on the lookout for creative ways to raise funds. A bazillion people are selling items and donating a portion of the cost to research (typically 10 - 20%). I must say that Target has impressed me with their "pink" line of items. 100% of the profits go to breast cancer research. Not bad.

you are my sunshine

Today is my Dad's birthday, and nostalgia is kicking my ass.

On my most recent visit home I found myself savoring every little mundane moment. We read the newspaper together in the morning, and he'd ask me over-and-over, "Would you like me to make you some bacon and eggs?" My answer was always "No thanks, Dad. I'll just have a bowl of Cheerios."

He'd point out all the good deals at the grocery store. "Blue Bell is $2.50 a half gallon at Tom Thumb. They rarely put it on sale that low. Ice cream has gotten so expensive..."

He went on to ask me if I wanted ice cream for breakfast.

I'm sitting here this morning, tears in my eyes, because I'm so far away. I am fully aware of all those years I took his nearness for granted. I dreamt he died a few nights ago. I woke up crying.

There are times I feel like my Dad is the only man in my life that loves me completely unconditionally. He has always forgiven my shortcomings and indiscretions, and has certainly earned every single gray hair on his head. Even though I am - a-hem - far beyond my formative years, he continues to be that pillar of strength I think of when things get horribly bad.

When I was small he was the one that would rub my legs at night when I had growing pains. A couple of years in a row I grew four+ inches. (Sidenote: I've got very long legs, a trait I can thank my Dad's side of the family for.)

When I was in 5th grade I cried myself to sleep nearly every night. I was tall (already nearly 5' 4"), skinny, and wore glasses. I was convinced I was unlovable. My Dad assured me that boys would be interested in me one day, and that I had qualities men would not be able to help but love. He reminded me that I was a smart cookie, and that my heart was always open and kind. He knew how sensitive I was, and taught me that was a strength, not a weakness.

He was the man that rescued me late at night my Freshman year in college. I'd just been dumped, rather abruptly, for reasons I couldn't comprehend. I couldn't stop crying, and he came and brought me home. I laid in the backseat, hugging myself, sobbing the entire way. I realize now how much this must have broken his heart.

I know I still must be breaking his heart, at times.

I find myself attributing all of my good qualities to my Dad, and bad qualities to Mom. I feel guilty about this, and realize it's not entirely fair. If you knew my Dad, and my Mom, and all of my life circumstances, then you'd understand. My Dad is an honest man. He's kind, loyal, and completely unselfish. He encouraged me growing up, with words and actions. He is always positive.

My Mom taught me negativism. She taught me manipulation, and is probably one of the main reasons I have this compulsive need to feel attractive. I was never good enough. I was a burden.

I miss my Dad to pieces. I hate being so far away. I wish I could be sharing a bowl of ice cream with him. I will never take him granted again.

Sappy Birthday, Dad.