Running On Pure Will...And Lots Of Caffeine

I keep having to shake off the persistent urge to fall asleep right here at my desk. If it weren't for the regular caffeine injections (read: Mt. Dew), I'd have passed out face down on the keyboard 4 hours ago. I just have to make it through another 3.5 hours and then I can go home....at which point I'll get my second wind, take a shower, get dolled up and go party like a rockstar. I have the sunglasses now and everything. Damn skippy I'm with it.

It's Gettin', It's Gettin', It's Gettin' Kinda Hectic

Just thinking about this has given me a headache. Last night was a perfect example of why I don't have many girlfriends...of why I don't get along with girls, in general. The ones I do have are around for a reason: we all know the rules and we don't play head games. Call me bitchy, call me what you will, but I have zero tolerance for liars and fakes.

I Need An Official Ruling On This One...

Ok, so say you meet someone in your bar of choice, get to talking and find that you enjoy each other's company. How long are you supposed to wait before you call someone who's given you their number once you decide you actually want to see them again? A day? Two days? A week? To add to the dilemma, how are you supposed to handle the situation if the person who gave you their number is the best friend of someone who's been blatantly flirting with you for the past couple weeks and seems to be working up to asking you out? What's the protocol here? Is there a universal you-snooze-you-lose policy that has to be observed? If you go out with one does that preempt the possibility of dating the other? Am I a complete gimp when it comes to dating? Should I finally quit talking about it and just become a nun? If so, do you think a habit would make me look fat?

Your input would be greatly appreciated...

The Swan

I'm sorry to say that I'm completely addicted to The Swan. I know, it's a really bad show. I can't help myself, though. I don't want to watch it, but I must. Two women a week with lower self esteem than anyone I know telling the world their sob stories and going through a complete body overhaul....what's not to love? The only thing I can't deal with watching is the liposuction. There's got to be a less heinous looking way of vacuuming fat out of someone's ass and thighs. Seriously. It's the sickest thing ever. The repeated jabbing of a metal tube into human flesh is enough to make me look away and wait for the rhinoplasty to begin. The real reason I watch the show, besides seeing the plastic surgeons get really excited about cutting people up, is to see the before and after stuff at the very end. Oh yeah, and the post-op recovery footage is pretty sweet too... the ladies look like they've been beaten with baseball bats. I'm willing to suffer through hot wax or the occasional razor burn, but damn. You couldn't pay me enough money to be on that show.

One More Thing...

I had Jason at Bishop's on Hawthorne cut my hair this past weekend. It's been called "spunky," "sexy," and "really cute." I don't know about any of that, but it's nice to have it off my neck again.

Honey, I'm Home...

Got back from spending the night in Eugene a little bit ago and while I had a good time with my folks, it's nice to be home. My mom and I shopped ourselves silly (who knew I'd find more stuff on one shopping trip in frickin' Eugene than I have here in P-town in the last few months?) and I got to have a Dutch Baby and bacon for breakfast. Sweet.

So, check it out: I got picked to be in the finals of The Mentor over at Chris Magazine! And I'm the only girl! Hell yeah! Wait......now that I think about it, I don't actually know how many applicants there were. I mean, there were three finalists picked, but maybe there were only three applicants.... D'oh. Ah well, my first task is to make up a drinking game for a tv show. This is going to require some research....who's up for some drinking and tv watching?

Rock Blocks And Words Of Wisdom From Nina Zero

Last night, we decided it was going to be a rock block night at the bar. For those of you not hip to the karaoke lingo, that means you pick an artist and then each person at your table picks a different song by that artist to sing when it's their turn. Basically, you end up having 3, 4, etc. songs in a row by the same artist. It's entertaining and kinda interesting to hear how each person sings the same band's stuff. We did U2, Journey, Britney Spears, Billy Joel, George Michael and The Beatles. Good times.

However, after last night, I have the following words of wisdom: "Do not shoot Maker's Mark. Not even if the guy buying is cute and you have a huge crush on him. It's really 'not good.'"

It's Only Wednesday? Damn it!

Last night was interesting... if you're at the bar tonight, I'll tell you the details. However, today I spent about five hours thinking it was Thursday. What the crap? I think it had something to do with how many times people kept saying "Wednesday" last night (a billion) instead of saying "tomorrow." Damn people. Anyway, I've since gotten on board with the whole today being Wednesday thing. Thank you for your support during the difficult transition period.

A Year And Two Months Later...

I got my one year anniversary service award from my company yesterday. What this entitles me to is one day off with pay. I'm taking this coming Monday off so I can go see my folks in Eugene Sunday and Monday. My mom's birthday is tomorrow (she's going to be an official "senior citizen!" Ooo, aaahh!) and it'll be nice to get out of Portland for a night and relax with the 'rents.

In other news, No Doubt and Blink 182 are coming on June 17th and I want to go. If you feel like taking me, holla...

This Is Getting Ridiculous.

Last night, Owen (one of the few old friends from college I still see and hang out with) came over to see the new apartment and hang out for a bit. Everything was fine and normal until the "birthday debacle" came up (I don't remember who brought it up or why, so there can be no fingers pointed)... We both turned 30 this year, about a month apart, and I didn't go to his birthday party. As a consequence, he didn't come to mine. I hadn't really given it much thought until he let me know last night that it really upset him. He said it bothered him that I would go hang out with someone I didn't know very well in the general scheme of things rather than go to his birthday party, which he'd made a point of giving me advance notice about. As I hadn't thought about it until it was brought up last night, I didn't really have anything to say about it as far as feeling remorse goes. I explained that I could see how it would upset him that I, who has a flawless track record when it comes to following through on what I say I'll do, bailed on him, but over the course of the last 12 years, he's done it to me hundreds of times and I haven't ever said one word about it. I said I couldn't understand how he would make such a big deal about one incident when I've let hundreds go over the course of our relationship. The conversation shifted and turned into a big, ugly, crying mess... She said: "I got tired of being hurt so I stopped caring about the little, insignificant crap..."....."What are you holding on to here? I'm obviously just a source of guilt and torment for you..."....."Go ahead, you've walked away me hundreds of times so I'm used to it..."...."I'm tired of having to remind you that I care about you...I don't have to do this with anyone else and it's getting old." He said: "I guess I thought our relationship was as important to you as it is to me, but apparently not..."....."You just said I can't hurt you anymore and that you don't care about me..."....."I almost walked out of here thinking that was it and we were just done..."...."Maybe I'm just too stupid to get it." Guh. You'd think I was fighting with a boyfriend or something.

Eventually, I decided I was done talking and said I was going to bed. He looked like he was going to cry, which would have made me feel a little better as I'd spent the previous 20 minutes crying and he was just looking at me like I'd lost my mind. He mumbled something about it being nice to see me and we both raised a pathetic hand acknowledging his departure. I locked the door behind him and crawled into bed.

That was bullshit. And because of it, I'm wiped out today. I fully acknowledge that relationships aren't easy, but I'll be damned if they're supposed to be that hard.

More Scientific Stuff

Pop Rocks are weird. Take a bunch of sugar, three different kinds of acid and some artificial flavor and color, processed with carbon dioxide, and presto! Pop Rocks. I want to know who dared whom to put this stuff in their mouth when the science guys were sitting around trying to come up with a new candy craze. Seriously, it would have had to've been a dare. I can't even believe I'm eating it right now. If you accidentally swallow before the stuff is done popping, it really doesn't feel that great in your throat. The lollipop that comes with it has stained my tongue blue, which I'm sure looks extra special, and the sour apple flavor never really turns from sour to apple. It's just sour. I'd like to stop eating it, but for some sick reason, I can't. What the ingredients list fails to mention is the copious amounts of heroin in this stuff.

How old am I again?

This Program Is Brought To You By The Letters D, O And H and The Number 3

Oh, the shame. I sang "Genie In A Bottle" last night and I liked it. I even asked two of my friends to sing other Christina Aguilera songs before and after me so we could do a "pop block." What the hell is wrong with me?

~And for our Spanish speaking readers:

Oh, la vergüenza. Canté el "Genie en un Bottle" el ayer por la noche y yo tuvimos gusto de él. Incluso pedí que dos de mis amigos me cantaran a otras canciones de Christina Aguilera antes y después así que podríamos hacer un "pop block." ¿Cuál el infierno es incorrecto con mí?

Reality TV Has Taken Over My Brain

I had the weirdest dream last night. I had just seen myself in the mirror for the first time after the 3 month program for The Swan when a limo pulled up and took me to the estate that I was supposed to pretend belonged to me ala Joe Millionaire. But it turns out it actually belongs to some relatives of mine and there is a restaurant on the property that belongs to my great aunt and uncle. I'm there to be The Bachelorette, the manager of the restaurant is Nick from The Apprentice, the head chef is Rocco from The Restaurant, they're both adorable and competing for my attention and I'm supposed to decide whether to pick Nick or Rocco to have dinner with my family and friends and start some whirlwind romance with...so I go to this long dinner table in a private back room where everyone was waiting and ask my great aunt for advice. At this point, Nick walks in, completely disheveled and I don't even recognize him at first, with some guy named Derek who apologizes for being an uninvited guest and asks how I ended up at the restaurant. I turn to say something to Nick, whom I'd decided was my dream guy but magically disappeared, and then tell Derek that my great aunt and uncle own the place, flash my newly veneered smile at him and run out to try to find Nick. Turns out that he had to go back to New Jersey for some kind of emergency and may not be coming back and I didn't even get to say goodbye....at which point I woke up, tried to fall back to sleep really quick so I could get back into the dream, fly off to New Jersey and catch Nick, but only ended up dreaming that I was driving around the property in a really fast car through an obsticle course trying to find the exit so I could go on to the second day where I'd have to eat something really nasty. Guh. Stupid TV.

Scientific Evidence That Social Interaction Has Healing Effect

1.) I went out tonight after staying home for five days straight.

2.) I feel 100% better.

3.) Don't mess with science.

No, You're Fired.

Since I'm bound and determined to stay home again tonight (thereby winning the bet with the Airborne Express guy and getting nothing other than the satisfaction of saying, "I did it, sucker!"), I'm gonna watch the final episode of The Apprentice. My prediction is that Kwame will get fired and run crying into the arms of his best friend Troy. Then Omarosa will come back and get fired again. And finally, Bill will sail off into the sunset with Donald Trump on one of his private yachts where they will live happily ever after...until The Donald gets sick of him (which I predict will be exactly three days and five hours after the yacht leaves the dock) and fires his sorry ass too. Gotta love "reality" tv.

Zyrtec Is My Friend

Thanks to a merciful co-worker who knew that I'd taken the last of my stash of Zyrtec on Sunday and have been suffering ever since, my eyes have stopped watering, my nose has stopped running and the weight on my chest has started to lift. If things keep up like this, I'll be back to my normal routine of singing and drinking by Friday. I haven't been at the bar since Saturday night and, other than to work and the laundrymat, I haven't been out of my apartment since Sunday. This is making me crazy. Not so much the not drinking part and not so much the not singing part but mostly the not being somewhere other than work or my apartment part. The Airborne Express guy who delivers stuff to our office all the time actually bet me that I'd be out before Friday night. He said he can't believe that I'm planning to stay home tonight and tomorrow night. He thinks I'll break down and go out even if I don't feel better. I'll show him. Ok, so I'll be dying to go out by tomorrow night and calling everyone I know to come over and entertain me...so what? By Friday, I'll be content just hanging out on the corner with the old guy who plays the accordion for spare change. So what? I will stay home tonight and tomorrow night, dammit. Even if it kills me...

Wow, that was totally the Zyrtec talking.

Something About Hell And Fury And A Woman Scorned

I'm sick. Again. Seems like I've been sick fairly regularly since I got mono last year and I'm getting tired of it. I'm mentioning this now because I'm probably going to rant for a day or three and I want to precurse it by saying my normally limitless patience has been cut extremely short by my head cold so forgive my bitchiness. For now, I'm only going to say that 1.) I'm done being nice to people who don't deserve it and 2.) people can do whatever the hell they want, but unless they're prepared to hear what I think about it, they shouldn't be around me.

Sometimes I Am Just Not A Nice Person.

Last night I said some stuff that I probably should have kept to myself. In my constant effort to be honest, I failed to be nice or tactful and now I feel crappy about it. I'd like to say I was justified because I would rather be called out about my behavior from a friend rather than through the grapevine as random gossip, but in the end, it's not my place to say what I said and I came off looking like a bitch anyway. *sigh* When I'm quiet and watch people, I end up seeing things that I really wish I didn't see.

I Don't Know If I Should Be Flattered Or Offended...

The following showed up in my inbox today:

Hi,
I noticed you're from Portland via a Yahoo member search (aati_bo_baati). You are a strikingly beautiful woman. I am a 38 year old married, white, professional, clean cut and passionate male, from Beaverton. I am looking for someone to get to know and potentially please on a semi-regular basis. I have pics I can send if you like. Please let me know if you might be interested and we can get to know each other a little bit. My email address is regardless30@yahoo.com and you can also IM me on AIM under the name Regardless30. No strings - just fun.

Sweet dreams,
Dave

This is just an example of how bizarre my world is, people. A word to the wise: unless someone specifically writes "I'm into having affairs with married men" in their Yahoo profile, it's probably a good bet that they aren't.

You Can't Hear Me, But I'm Screaming On The Inside.

Right this minute, I wish I was anywhere but here. This office is killing my will to live.

You Look So Fine And I Really Wanna Make You Mine...

For starters, I can't get enough of that Jet song "Are You Gonna Be My Girl"... If I had the album, it'd be on repeat right now.

It was warm enough all weekend to wear a skirt during the day and wander around Saturday market. On a whim, I went and asked the friend I have a crush on if he wanted to have lunch with me, for which I'm quite proud of myself because I'm usually a wuss about that stuff. After he went back to work, I went to see Hellboy with Jason and Arthur and shortly thereafter decided I need to become pyrokinetic so I could have blue flame come out of my fingers... Jason quickly convinced me that it might be dangerous and I should just forget it. So I went home to change into warmer clothes and headed back downtown to meet up at the bar for the new Saturday night XV field trip with some of the girls. We decided the week before that we'd make it a regular Saturday thing and it's been nice to go somewhere other than the bar for awhile.

I got home Sunday around 1pm (crashed on Brad and Clarissa's couch at 5:30am...d'oh.) and decided it was going to be a "lay around and do as little as possible" day so I soaked in the tub for awhile and then put a towel on my wet hair, a robe on my body, a mud mask on my face, some cheese, salami and crackers on a plate and parked it on the couch to watch Buffy reruns. So nice! I eventually got motivated to get dressed and head down to the bar with my roommate, but didn't stay too late because I felt like I must have gotten a little bit of sun on my cheeks the day before and my eyes were bothering me... fun crowd there Sunday night, though.

I stayed home last night, which has become the trend since Darryl and I stopped seeing each other, and watched Fear Factor and part of the Average Joe finale. I can't figure out why all those girls were so interested in Adam.... I'm sure he's a good guy but after watching the show for about 45 minutes, I was already bored and didn't find him the least bit attractive. Gawd, maybe that attitude is exactly why I'm still single...

You Give Love A Bad Name...Yes, I Do Mean You.

I don't even know why I'm awake right now. I haven't been sleeping well again for the past few nights and I don't have a good reason why. Could just be that I'm needing less and less sleep. I don't like that reason, though...I like sleeping all day.

Last night, I spent most of the evening being quiet and watching people and listening to conversations around me (like I used to before I started to get to know everyone who works and hangs out at the bar) and I was reminded of why I didn't talk much in the first place. I really don't like most people. Seriously. And the only reason most people like me is because I listen while they do all the talking. Most people find themselves far more interesting than I will ever be and it's far less effort to just sit and be quiet than to compete for attention. When I'm in a funk, that's about all the energy I can muster for social interaction. I've gotta save the rest of it up for my 3 1/2 minutes of time in the spotlight while I sing Bon Jovi. Outside of that 3.5 minutes, I really wasn't feeling the love. In fact, aside from my chat with Jordan, I could have been invisible.

Once A Fool, Always A Fool

The truth is....I miss you.