Tuesday, June 30, 2009

What do you wear to the gym? Part deax

Here's the deal with work out clothes (in general), you need to be able to move in them. They can't be restricting, but at the same time you don't want them to be too loose either. You don't want to get caught up and twisted in them. And I've found that moisture wicking fabrics really do make a performance difference, especially in the heat (they're a freaking god send!). So what you don to work out is important. Just think about all the hoopla that went on about the new speedo at the the Beijing Olympics (I'm an Olympic junkie by the way).

So today I wore running capris and sports bra tank top, both modestly cover a fair amount of skin. And while at the gym I didn't care and felt kinda cute, it was outside the gym I started to feel exposed when I walked to the bus stop.

So here's my question: wear shorts that show lots of skin, or capris that show little skin but every shape? And while I have a nice ass (or so I've been told), doesn't mean I want everyone to be able to look at it.

Monday, June 29, 2009

You're f*ckign up my Chi

Today, not so much. In the relief that my chem test was over, I completely forgot I had chem homework due tonight. I hurriedly printed it off before I left for class this morning and start it while I wait for the bus. But I had a ton of trouble with it, and it was making me frustrated and stressed, and I'm hot by this point so this is going bad. On my way to class (I can't really read/work much on the bus, because I umm, get a little car sick from sending a tweet...) I realized that I had forgotten to print the lecture notes. And that sucks donkey balls. So I was swearing up a storm before 8:30 this morning.

The rest of the day passed in a stress blur, furiously taking notes, finishing my crappy lab report, my new lab results are skewed somehow and I have no idea why. I couldn't figure out much more of the homework between class and work, and when I tried to submit it earlier this evening, everyone else was doing the same. So the system was slooooooow (and we know how patient I am). So I end up turning it in with half the answers blank or wrong. Goody. And now my jaw is aching because I know I'm holding my stress there. Which is a new thing for me, I typically hold my stress underneath my shoulder blades. But I am not going back to the dentist that's for sure! (oh I'm done with them for real now! woo hoo! Until I need a cleaning in 6 months that is)

Sunday, June 28, 2009

My eyes! My eyes!

No shirt, no shoes, no service. (you know, it doesn't say anything about pants). I think the same should be said about no bras. To my horrors of horrors yesterday, I saw something so grotesque that I clearly have to share.

This woman is walking around with her fussy baby and equally fussy baby daddy. She was wearing a one-piece bathing suit and shorts, and I see a lot of kids in this outfit, so normally I probably wouldn't have noticed her. But this is a
full grown woman and her lumpy figure made me do a double take. And then I out right stared, I couldn't help it. As she lumbered closer to the desk I thought to myself: "AHHHH! Oh god! A little support never hurt anyone! And that piece of stretched Lycra is not support!

Number one, it's indecent enough a walking around in a bathing suit and shorts in a public place when you are nowhere near a pool and/or beach (hell, I wear a shirt at the gym, you don't see me running with just a sports bra-it's called decency).

And two: No one's boobs should ever be at their belly button and pointing (drooping) in opposite directions. (shudder)

Now, I'm glad (?) the woman had the decency to know she was a one-piece kind of hag and not a two piece woman, but honestly, she was a no bathing suit ever kind of cow. She belonged in a mumu. And I don't care how bitchy and catty this sounds. Because it was just wrong.
There' some stat that 85% of woman are wearing the wrong size bra. But at least they are wearing one!

Saturday, June 27, 2009

I Love You

I have told 4.5 guys "I love you" (the .5 is because it was in high school and I asked if he loved me first, so it only partially counts). But I've only meant it twice. I wanted to mean it when I said it. And I also figured I would eventually get there after I said it. It just never did those times. Oops. I don't think it makes me a bad person, but perhaps foolhardy. (bet you're wondering who they were and if you were one of them though now aren't you?)

The first time I was truly in love, I felt like a fairy godmother taped me with her wand and poof, I knew I loved this guy. So when we broke up, I felt that my world had ended. (How I desperately wanted that same fairy godmother to make it all go away-she did not come through, that bitch). The second time I meant it was my fiance. I loved him, even though he wasn't was I imagined for myself. And he loved me, I know that he did in his own way. It just turns out that it wasn't enough. (I knew better than to ask a fairy godmother for help that time. I turned to family, friends and a bottle of Maker's though)

I'm not ready to feel it again because it's has ended so bitterly for me both times. There's nothing to say it will end that way again, and I'm being a coward. And while I'm dating again, it's daunting being back on the playing field. And it's one thing to date, it's another thing to start caring about someone (which is where I think I'm headed). And it's a whole different ballpark to be in love. But I won't say it until I feel it regardless. But I hope that the next time I do fall ass over teakettle (in love), it lasts forever.

Friday, June 26, 2009

When I Grow Up


Anyway, the one thing I've always wanted to be was a wife and mom. I want the whole package, the husband, 2.5 kids, the dog and the white picket fence. I'm totally the married and babies girl. And what's wrong with that? Seriously? Why is it when you say, I want to be a wife and mom, you get this look of is that all? Um, you know what, it's a f*cking hard job, it never ends, you don't get coffee breaks, and everything is somehow your fault. And yet, if you say: I don't want children, or even: I'm not sure if I do, you get looks of horror because that goes against human nature. Because as a woman, having children should be your one and only dream (yet when it is you get chastised).

So clearly, I must do it all. I'm going to have to have a career (not a job. and YES, there is a difference) so bring on pharmacy (which incidentally is a great career for woman because of it's flexibility). So I started thinking about what I wanted to be when I was a kid. Architect, doctor, fashion designer, teacher, movie star... I figured, that if there was a Barbie for it, I wanted to be it at some point. And then I had the bestest idea ever. I should just be Barbie! Think about it, she has a dream home and a pink corvette! And a boy toy. Who doesn't want that?

I mean, I'm not 7 feet tall, I have all my ribs and internal organs and my rack isn't 42," nor do I have any hope to be a blond...but whatever.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Seriously, I Just Don't Care

Part of my lab homework was to write a procedure for the experiment we did. Which at first sounded a bit daunting. But my TA said this will be one of the only times we write our own procedures. This is just a welcome to chemistry lab get your feet wet sort of thing.

So, no biggie really. I plot out a few steps, (Do a, b, c, voila I'm done), I write it so a first grader could do it and type it up. And we can edit them after we get them reviewed, so everything's fine.
Before we got to leave though, we had to each talk to our TA. Once again, fine. We lined up like good boys and girls, moving along swiftly. Until the girl in front of me. She's all riled up about something. I only caught snippets (because I wasn't paying attention), but she was getting her short shorts in a twist. Something about how no one's explained how to do this, the lab book didn't give any examples, and how was she supposed to get this right if she didn't know how to do it? So now she's going to have a bad grade and it's the entire chemistry department's fault. OK.
  • First: it's not worth that many points, this will barely be a blip on your over all score.
  • Two: the rest of us in this lab received the same amount of instruction as you did (not much) and managed to complete the assignment panties untwisted.
  • Three, suck it up honey, this is college and no one's going to hold your hand through it.
  • And four: is that a purple feather in your hair? What the hell? Like I'll ever take you seriously now.
I'm still annoyed at her as I get on the bus to go home 15 minutes later. And to add insult to annoyance, there was this old biddy was yelling conversationally to the driver. I had my i-pod turned up all the way and could still hear her clear as a bell. I wanted to yell at her: "SHUT your word hole! Shut it!"

So you know what I learned today? The combination of heat, humidity, hormones and age have contributed to the destruction of my tolerance level. Fortunately, when I came home Bailey attacked me with kisses, and that seemed to make things right.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Divorce Court

I used to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8. Loved it. But even towards the end of the 4th season, my attention was waning. And over the summer as that show was splashed across the gossip magazines, I stopped watching completely. Because there's no entertainment value in watching a marriage crumble (unless it's divorce court).

Now while I didn't get a divorce, I did break an engagement which is along the same lines (this is my I've been more broken hearted than you trump card, and I will play it at times). It's a lot more than a typical break-up. It's a irrevocably life altering. It was (relatively) lucky we both came out of it nothing more than emotionally shattered. (Well, I came out that way, I don't know if he even shed a tear over me). We didn't have to do anything legal. We didn't have to sell/divide a house, split a banking account, and no kids means no custody agreement (though honestly, if we had kids I would have stayed with him-also, we would have been married). I gave back the ring, gave him the dog, and walked away.

A broken engagement is better than a divorce, but sometimes you don't feel that way. I felt that I had been hit with a ton of bricks when I realized I wanted out. I dealt with a litany of emotions, some I never expected (humiliation was one of them). I felt weak and anguish, and at the same time, unexpected strength and relief. I was a conflict personified. And while I can now lend a sympathetic shoulder to someone going through a breakup, I want people to realizes something: a breakup, no matter who's it is, is not anyone's entertainment

Monday, June 22, 2009

Oddly Flattered

A week ago library guy met some of my friends. He received an initial pass (pass/fail) grade from the all-mighty-Priya, but she wants to give him a letter grade soon. I was a little nervous though, not going to lie. But any guy worth his salt needs to be able to fit in with my friends if he's going to be sticking around. He wasn't shy about putting his arm around me nuzzled my neck while we all watched a Disney movie (which I though might scare him off). Hey, it's what we do, we're dorks and proud of it. That's beside the point. I like him a lot and I'm slightly unnerved how attracted he is to me (I'm weird).

Anyway, he meets my friends, and they don't scare him enough to quell his desire to sleep with me. We enjoy some one on one time that night like two people who are attracted to each other do. But shortly after, (when it's way past my bedtime), he asks me to not spend the night.

I'm thinking, umm, I guess it was too soon to meet my friends. He goes on to explain why, he's got a lot of stuff to do the next day, stuff he needs to concentrate on. He needs to rest in order to do so, and apparently I'm impossible to not have sex with. Which, I beg to differ, there are plenty of guys out there who do not want to have sex with me and find it possible to not jump me either. But to him I'm a (curvy) distraction simply by being there, and he wouldn't get any of rest he needs .

And what am I supposed to say? No I need cuddle time so I don't feel like yesterday's tissue? I'm sorry (?) you can't resist me? What? I'm trying to be super confident put together woman, and clingy need cuddle time woman who just wants a guy to like her is definitely not that. What else could I have said other than (um) "sure that's fine" to save face?

The past few times times we've hooked up, it's been a seal the deal and go (to be fair, I went to the last one with no pretences, I was the one taking him to the airport. I even offered to come over early to hook up). I'm flattered (and slightly freaked out) he finds me attractive. I respect that he's working and knows what he needs (or doesn't) to be productive. And he was able to do the things he needed w/out distraction the next day, so mission accomplished. He walked me to my car and said he had a nice time meeting my friends I guess to placate me. But as I drove away that night, I couldn't help but feel used.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Happy Father's Day!

My dad doesn't say a lot. And when he does, it's usually mumbled. He used to have a full red beard and mustache, but over time it turned white (two teenage girls is apparently stressful). His favorite colors are old gold and black, after his Alma mater Purdue. He's severally outnumbered in the male female ratio, my mom, two daughters, and now even the dog's a girl.

And while my dad's not the most talkative, outgoing guy, he has always been there for all his girls. He chaperoned field trips, came to every band event, has watched every race and helped us moved more times than we can count.

I remember walking home with my dad as a very little kid. It was summer and dusk, and I have no idea where we were walking back from. But he still had on his work shirt and tie (this was back in the day when professional men wore ties to the office). And my sister and I must have been too tired to walk, because he was holding each of us in an arm, our heads on his shoulder. I noticed his shirt had a pink stripe in the plaid (it was the 80's) and said:

"Daddy, you have pink in your shirt. You can't have pink in your shirt, you're a boy."
His response was: "Well, I have 2 girls, so I'm allowed to wear pink."
Me: "oh, ok." Made sense to me then. Still makes sense to this day.

I doubt he remembers that. He can't remember where he put his hat half the time. But no matter how old I get, I'll always want to be my daddy's little girl.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

The Quiet Game

I think we all know I'm destined to loose the quiet game. And I've said "if am not talking to you, I am only one of two options: ridiculously tired or mad as hell." And this is pretty spot on.

I'm highly uncomfortable with silence. If there's a pause, I will most likely fill it with chatter. I'll say the random thought that's in my head (for example: I want a cookie. And an elephant ride (wtf?). Hey when's the circus coming to town?), I'll ask a random question, (once again, whens the circus coming to town?) and sometimes I pick up conversation that ended a few hours ago. Though I'm not always with the same people when the original conversation took place, so I get to have the parley over again. Or I just get confused looks. Could go either way.

It's terrible, I tend to wake up before my boyfriends and I'll have to lay there quietly until they wake up. When I started dating my ex, I got sick of that game and started poking him to wake up earlier and talk to me. He did not care for that. (I was bored! And I wasn't going to be the crazy girl that talked to herself. Out loud). It was handier when we lived together, I could get out of bed when I felt like it and go accomplish things in another room. I usually had 3-4 things done (coffee, let puppy out, shower, check email...) done by the time he woke up, which was about 3 more things that he did all day.

But with Library Guy, I'm comfortable not talking at times. I can even snuggle up next to him and not say anything. Of course these moments only last 3 minutes tops, but it's a start right?

Though my ex told me: me not talking was one of the oddest/scariest things he's ever seen. HA!

Friday, June 19, 2009

Worst Guard Dog Ever

This is one my favorite puppy memories. The day after we adopted Bailey, we went to one of the ex's friend's place to watch a football game (hey! no more byob to a dirty house and making pointless small talk in between plays and smoke breaks. Sweet!). We brought Bailey with us because the the ex's other dog was there, (he and this friend adopted him when they were roommates, but eventually the other guy kept him full time after they moved into different places), and we (ok, he) thought the socialization would be good for Bailey.

Well, Tiki (other dog (and a name change)) is old and big, but the ex always played a little rough with him. So while they rough housed some, I held 12-lbs Bailey in my lap so she wouldn't get hurt in the tussle. When Tiki got tired, he plopped down on the floor and that was the end of that. But all Bailey saw was the bigger dog "attacking" her new daddy. She sees the plop as a golden opportunity, scampers over to Tiki, lets out this tiny yip and then runs strait back to me. Unphased, Tiki just sighed a dog sigh and Bailey clambered back on my lap.

Such a big protector! But then a few weeks later:

She was scared of the ice cubes in her water dish! You can't see the cubes in the video, and it was shot with a cellphone, but it's so cute!

Now as a 45-lbs dog, I think (hope) she could cause harm if she was actually protecting me. But sigh, guard dog she is not. She may bark her head off when the doorbell rings and bolt to the door, but that pretense goes up real fast. She takes one sniff and then attacks the person with kisses.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

People in Glass Houses...

Should never throw stones (and always wear clothes too).

Today I was sitting in my chemistry class, and I noticed a girl sitting a few rows ahead of me. And frankly it was hard not to. It wasn't the bright lime green mens' muscle tee (you know, the kind that have no sides) it was the wife beater she had on underneath it that caught my attention. Because that thing was straining for dear life to stay on. In other words, this girl was stacked.

Her chest was so round and huge (seriously, like honeydew melons) I thought to myself: no way those things are real. She was too skinny for them (not that she was a waif), she didn't have the hips to balance them, and her roots were starting to show. Clearly, once you dye your hair, fake boobs is obviously the next step (being slightly factious here).

But then I started thinking: is that what people think of me? Granted, I don't have anything remotely close to honey dews, but I do have a larger than expected bust line. The ex sheepishly admitted that before we hooked up, he wondered if mine were fake. And I fully admit to wearing push-ups to enhance my decolletage, but I'm starting to wonder. Because if that's the conclusion I jumped to, then you know that what another person is probably thinking when they notice mine.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Victoria Secret

It's the start of the semi annual sale! Squeee! I knew I wouldn't have time to go the first day (boo summer classes and their interference with my underwear buying), but I've got my angels card and my gift card ready to go. I got myself sized pre-event so no time would be wasted.

So this Friday afternoon/evening (when I have time), it is on! I am shopping. I will turn in my homework, hop in my car, fight rush hour traffic and mall rats, and possibly snatch something out from under someone (don't give me the evil eye, I got it first and don't you think I'll look better in it anyway? (I'm pms-ing, so my bitchy quotient is through the roof right now by the way)).
I'm so excited it's silly.

Monday, June 15, 2009


One of my favorite interweb places is Television w/out Pity, or twop. It's how I "watch" a decent amount of my shows, (like ANTM) and their count downs and lists are hilarious. The writers are so snarky, I love it. Half the time I think: that's what I was thinking! And the other half is damn I wish I had though of that!

Well, most of the writers are good. The person who recaps True Blood, (which is a show I actually watch) is terrible. His recaps are flat out horrendous. I personally think the dude is a failed screen writer and now thinks the readers of twop want to hear his analysis of human complexity through vampire metaphors. Umm no, dude, I want snark. Pony up and stop being such a douche.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

True Blood

True Blood is back!! Yippee!

I admit I didn't really care about reading the Sookie Stackhouse books at first. One
friend had the first 6 and then passed them to another in our email circle. And I really had no interest in them, but they had been left at my apartment over the 4th of July and I hadn't been to the library in a few days. So with nothing to loose, I started reading. Then polished off all 6 in week. And then went to the bookstore and bought the next two.

I was super excited when I found out they were making the books into a series. And while the first season stayed fairly close to the book, I don't mind that the creator took a few liberties with some characters, and that the 2nd season is going to diverge from the books. I think part of the appreciation for both is that they are different for one another. kind of like siblings. Cut from the same cloth, but different in their own right.

What is it about vampires that's so sexy? I was never really into them, and I still consider goth people on the verge if not total wanna-be. But now, there's just something so dark and ooooh about them. There's that thrill of I could kill you and I do love to bite. And plus, my only coherent thoughts after watching 10 seconds of this guy is:

Me want the Viking Vampire.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Best Parent's Ever

I have great parents.

It may seem dweeby and peter-pan syndrome-ish to live with my parents at 26. But I'm very happy to be living at home. And to my credit, it's not like I've never left, I have moved out (and back) twice. I've lived on my own, with tons of roommates, and even with a boy (I did not like living with this boy-it was hard). So I've know other living situations, and I have to say, what I have now is awesome.

I've mentioned why I'm never leaving home (no rent, man cave, they feed me and an unconditional support team). But it's not just the free rent and amenities. I'm in a good place in my life now, which I know I wouldn't have gotten to without my family. I knew moving home would be the end of my engagement (the relationship in general really), but I also knew I was going someplace I was safe and loved.

They do little things that help, like getting my bicycle fixed so I could ride to class. We just got HBO so I could watch True Blood. But they seriously went above and beyond the call of being good parents. They let me have my dog, one of the catalyst for seriously getting me on the right path to get over the broken engagement. They help me take care of her too, even though she's my dog. And they support me going back to school, even though we didn't know if I would get financial aid.

Seriously, I have the best parent's ever.

Friday, June 12, 2009

Curse of the Math Class

I must have some sort of curse when it comes to math classmates.

Spring semester was the loud mouth breather. It annoyed and skived me out. And another slightly (slightly because mouth breathing on my neck is the trump card) annoying habit was that he would extend his legs way past his desk; clearly encroaching my personal area. (though mouth breathing clearly violates that bubble already)

This math class the guy behind me isn't a huge step up. While he doesn't skive me out with the moth breathing, he still somewhat annoys me. Dude sends at least 5 text a class so I can hear the click-click-clacking of the keypad directly behind me (probably because he's using my back as a visual shield), and he does the leg stretching thing too. And when he's super bored in class (and I'm assuming that's often because of all the text he sends) he heaves these sighs of exasperation. Not super loud to be rude, but I can feel those on my back. And it's summer and occasionally I will wear a tank top.

How do I pick the seats that put these people behind me?

I could move to the back of the class, but I'm a nerd and I sit closer to the front. And plus, I don't care for the back row of desks, ever since I was a kid. Since we were arranged alphabetically I was typically in the back row of the class. And being a very small kid, this was problematic, because I had to stand up to see the chalk board. And your tush is supposed to stay in your seat, so I was torn between my compulsion to follow the rules or being able to see around the ginormous kids in the front row. This probably is one of the main reasons I want my married name in the top half of the alphabet.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Shopping Bug

I have such a shopping bug right now. I just want to get ridiculously high on consumerism for things that I really don't need but want (though I consider HBO a definite need). Only problem, I have no monies.

Well today was my first chemistry class and I'm only allowed to use a scientific calculator on the test, not a graphing one (which I use for math. Psh, you think I find the zeros of a graph by hand? Whatever, I punch in the formula and trace!). So I got all excited for a second because I would get to buy something! Anything! But before I spent my non-existent money (that's what I have a credit card for) on one, I knew better and asked my mom if the scientific calculator she uses still worked. Yep, plus an extra two, and they work (dammit). I did get to buy my chemistry book and lab manual and break out the plastic. Sigh, it's just not the same though.

Due to my excitement over the possibility of buying a new calculator, I ruefully acknowledged that I am a nerd. I may as well embrace it though. I live with my parents, I wear black frame glasses, no makeup to class, I can barely stay up past midnight, reading is a hobby, I get excited about the possibility of buying a calculator, and I find a guy with his masters sexier than a rock star.

Well, at least I'm a pretty nerd.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Stupid questions

You know that saying there is no such thing as a stupid question? That's a LIE. There are totally stupid questions, and a lot of them too.

I've mentioned I get math. Yay me. But there are a lot of people who do not get it quite as inherently as I do, and need to ask questions. That's fine, ask if you don't understand. Those questions are not stupid. What is though, is that the
se people who ask, 9 times out of 10 it's because they were too busy texting during class to pay attention. So the question's usually something the teacher just went over.

If you need to learn this stuff, pay 'effing attention! You should try to do that anyway, but even more so if you have a hard time with the concept to begin with. And honestly, how important can you be 19-year-old that your bff cant wait another hour for your response to their "what r u doing 2nite" text (I've mentioned I hate text speak too, yes?). You are wasting my class time with your personal life. And that is not what my tuition covers.

PS people, putting your phone on vibrate sometimes is even more annoying then a ring. It's not exactly silent either when it vibrates and thumps everything around it. Plus the clicky clacky noises coming from the keypad, people can hear that too. So it's not even like you're doing anything on the sly.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Runners High

I'm thinking I want to run a half marathon in the fall. I can start training now and be in really good shape in October. I'm not as worried about being in physical shape as much though.

What concerns me this time is my life schedule for the fall. I'm taking a chemistry and biology class, their corresponding labs (fingers crossed I don't have to dissect anything. god, fingers crossed!) an English class (wonder if Library Guy was serious about having lots of papers...) and I'm going to try to test into calculus for the fall. So, busy smarty-pants sciencey things that I know I need to focus on and study. Plus I'm still going to work part time. Oh and there's the whole I hope to still be dating Library Guy too. So that's a lot going on.

Part of me says, yes, bring it on. I've done the school-work-train all at once thing before (though spring semester wasn't super hard, and there weren't any men around either). And I'm much more prudent with my time when I have to allot it to several things at once.

The other part of me says I am just crazy.

But I think I'm going to do it. As my girlfriends pointed out, what the worse that can happen? If I can't deal with the training, I don't run the race and I'm out a few bucks.

Oh my god. I'm a runner.

Though seriously, what is this runner's high thing? Whatever it is, I don't think I've yet to experience it.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Hmm (insert inquisitive face here)

So I like library guy. A lot. F*ck. This highly complicates my self imposed don't rush into anything in order to protect myself bubble.

Now I'm not falling for him. Yet. But there's a high possibility that I could/will (as long as I want to keep kissing him, and I don't see that stopping anytime soon). I'm aware of my inability to stop falling once I start (somehow I don't fully understand (care) physics though). So I'm part scared want to run away, and part jump in head first w/out checking to see if there's water in the pool. Um, how come I can't just let things fall into place? (because I am not patient, and I'm happier when it's my way dammit, that's why)

Well, I'll keep myself in check regardless. I have other things to focus on besides a fledgling relationship. But I still worry: what if he doesn't like me? I know he's attracted to me, which is clearly not a bad thing. But liking me, that's a different story. All I can be is my spazy self and hope he does. If he doesn't, then I toss him in the fools I've dated pile. And if he does, then that gets a yay(!) and I remind myself of my self imposed bubble.

Saturday, June 6, 2009


Last night I met a friend/former coworker for a drink. We used to bartend together, so we have similar stories and opinions, and we kow exaclty what it's like to work in the service indusrty. Well, anyway, we went to the restaurant where her roommate works, and my friend gave me a little back story on the people. Basically, there's a lot of dipping in the company inkpot. Quell surprise, no one's super cool with the sharing (not to mention almost everyone is someone's sloppy second).

And I started thinking back about to my bartending days, and will honestly say: I do not miss it. There's a ridiculous amount of drama going on behind the scenes. Way too much for my general tolerance (and it's low). Even if no one's sleeping with a co-worker (which, bullsh*t, there's always some sort of inter-restaurant couple), there's still cliques, cliques w/in those cliques, backbiting, and insipid inside jokes. And have you ever noticed that once you work for one restaurant, you can't hang out with any different restaurant personnel?

Sometimes, it's almost like being in high school again. And is there anything more EPIC than high school drama? No.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Told you!

"I told you so" have got to be the 4 most satisfying words to say, but the 4 most annoying to receive. Boy do I want to say them though. The ex emailed me on Monday. I was mostly just surprised because of the timing. Seriously dude, we're really not together anymore, you pick right after our non wedding to email? Whatever, timing was never his forte.

Well anyway, he said "between me and you" (so of course I tell everyone) things with the band are not going super well. At least not well enough to justify him putting them over me (in my mind that's how it worked out).

I feel a tiny bit sorry for him, because this band is his dream (for the moment), and it's not working for him the way he wanted it too. But then the bitter/bitchy/snarky side overrules and thinks: HA!! Told you!

And that fact that I got the dog is just the cherry on top

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The Wheels on the Bus

One of the few places I do not care to be chatty: the bus. That includes the stops too. I'll answer a question about the time, and I will tell you my guesstimate of when the bus will arrive. But I don't want to know your name, I don't want to tell you mine, and I don't want to give you my life story, nor do I care to hear about your life and the lessons you've learned. Because I don't care.

Yesterday at the bus stop a guy started chatting with me. He may have been trying to flirt with me, but I don't know. I wasn't particularly interested in talking, but I kept my end of the conversation up for the ride. Anyway, in the conversation, he said he was a philosophy grad student. Which to me implied he could never make up his mind.

Today, same bus stop, but different person there. This woman was honest to god bat sh*t crazy. She was talking/having a conversation with at least 3 different people. And she was the only one at the bus stop. I sat down on the bench before I realized what was going on with her, so I couldn't get up and just stand away from her, because I did not want her to to start talking to me. I turned my Ipod up and kept my fingers crossed she wouldn't notice me. Fortunately (for me), she got on the bus before mine, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief .

But I'm scared of what tomorrow brings. Maybe the guy who mooned the entire bus? That was definitely a "my eyes! my eyes! moment."

Monday, June 1, 2009

Idiot Girl

So I'm thinking about entering an essay contest about being an idiot girl. And I thought, well, I have a decent amount of blogs, so I could use one of those. Which led to the thought of, hey my gay boyfriends story is ha-lar-ious, that would be a great one to submit. What's more idiot girl than knowingly dating a gay guy who refused to come out? The essay cannot be over 450 words, and I know Proof That I Am Funny (my 2nd blog, I'm not linking to my own site this time. Frankly because I'm not in the mood) is a bit long. But I can trim some stuff and I'm sure it'll work.

Out of curiosity (and to get a starting point too), I copied and pasted to a word document and found out the word count: 1,292. Oops, little bigger than I thought there (that's what she said!). Hmm, trimming might not be the best option, seeing as I would crop more than half the story. And then, what's the point if I'm loosing most of it?

So now I need a different idea/essay. So, if you have a favorite blog or a damming story on me, feel free to share. But you don't have to get too damming. After all, it's my blog and I can edit if I want to. You would edit too if it happend to you.