Friday, July 31, 2009

Bad doggie

The dog is getting naughty. And not cute puppy didn't know any better naughty. She's pushing her boundaries naughty. She's starting to lay and roll in the sheets rather than on top of the bed. She's nosing through the trash, ripping paper and eating things she shouldn't. And the begging, oh my lord, the begging! Anytime you eat, she walks under the table, nudges you with her nose and looks at you expectantly. She always bugs my dad, because she knows it's inevitable he'll drop something on accident.

When she was a puppy, I was guilty of tossing her oyster crackers, even though my ex told me not to. So one day she's all up in my business when I'm eating, whining and wagging her tail and giving me kisses (bitch knows how to work her angles, puppy kisses make me melt). And the ex shoots me this petulant-look-what-you've-started-look, so I calmly tell her, "no Bailey, you know you can only beg when your daddy's not watching."
(then a day later he tossed her a cracker and I screeched "hey! I saw that!")

But the point is, she's pushing her boundaries. I think I need to get her some new toys and she'll stop trying to take laundry from the couch. I tend to only let her have one or two toys at time. I (we) started this when she was a puppy, because if you give her too many things, she'll think she can play with everything. And I was not going to have my good shoes fall victim to a puppy and chewed within an inch of their life. She never chewed shoes in general though. Not even Mark's hideous ones that I actually gave her to chew. I debated putting a dollop of peanut butter in them so she would go after them with a little more gusto, but thought that would be too obvious (and I would get caught). Though once she nibbled a little I said "good girl!" in front of him. (I hated these shoes) Oh wait, she ate a few of my flip flops.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Mixed Messages

Delighted that I am on a new birth control and it's not making me a hormonal be-yotch, here's an email I sent library guy:

"Hey remember that time we hooked up in my car? Can we do that again?"

Right. Because that's something a woman says when she would rather be a girlfriend than a f*ck buddy.

And yet, I just asked him to hook up again later this week.
So. We may just be f*ck buddies. But meh, so be it. It feels pretty good the way it is. And what the hell, I'm going to at least enjoy it.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009


I used the phrase sweating like a whore in church the other day, and my friend asked, Wait, church? Did I miss something? Why where you in a church?

And then she reread the email and figured out it was a phrase, but I started thinking, when was the last time I was in a church?

Uhh....umm, well, I didn't go to my friend's baby's baptism, so not then. I didn't get married so that date's out... It may have been my sister's wedding, which was almost a year ago...

Oh no wait! I went to temple for my friend's conversion to Judaism in November and then to temple with her in the early spring I believe. So there, that's the last time I was in a church.
Hey wait a second! Did my friend think I was calling myself a whore?

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Daddy!
Ooh, we get cake tonight! I still call my dad daddy on occasion. Not usually in public, but I'll call him that when saying good night, or I get home from school. Sometimes I do when I want something, (like bus fare. Daddy, do you have any money so I can get to school?) and/or I'm whining (daddy, my class is hard!) And I've recently been saying où est papa? (translation: where's daddy? in french) if I don't know where he is. So even when I bust out the high school french, I still use the term.

But I don't think he minds.

Monday, July 27, 2009

House Hunting

I loathe apartment hunting. And apartments are somewhat temporary, so I don't do that much research on them. Unless the choices are absolutely terrible, I typically pick one of the first 3 I see, simply because I don't have the patience to look at any more. So I don't think I'm going to enjoy house hunting at all.

Saturday I went house hunting with my friend and her fiance. And they were looking to decide, not looking for options. Why did I go? Because I wanted to avoid my homework. And mainly because I'm nosy and she promised me a bedroom. (Because that wouldn't be annoying at all. Personal antidote: if you want to keep your friendships, I highly recommend not living with already established friends - it changes the dynamic. You can become better friends through being roommates like I have, but it's best not to room with your bff).

Anyway, I see the homes and I pick out my bedroom. I only saw 3 with them in one afternoon, and I was exhausted. And I didn't care about utilities, the commute, property taxes, how much work needed to be done, any of that grown-up stuff. And they have to care about it, because they are going to own this.

If I was exhausted from just the running around to make a final choice, I can't imagine what they've been going through. And they've done a ton of research already, both have full time jobs and somehow are going to plan a wedding in there too. (which I can sorta help out on, I did a fair amount of research for mine. Go me and being helpful!).

So as exciting as it would be to own my own home, I have a feeling I'm seriously not going to like the hunt. But since I don't intend to leave my parent's house until I get married, I'm just going to make hubby (or hubby-to be, I would move in with a guy if there's a ring on my finger first) do all the hunting work and all I have to do is say yay or nay. (oh, and he has to let me have a pink room somewhere in there. Yes, I know how princessy that is. No I don't care.)

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Let's go to the Fair!

I'm not a super fan of the fair, but I went to the one in town because I had free passes. I don't care for super spinney rides because they upset my stomach a little (my iron clad stomach is sadly not what it used to be), and you can only take so much fried stuff before you feel a zit popping out due to the copious amount of grease in the air.

What I failed to realize at first is that it's a freaking judger's paradise!

I had this nifty little game sheet all laid out, with a grid and borders and bonus squares (proof that the designer in me isn't completely dead). But I can't figure out how to load/format it as an image so the text is large enough to read and still fit in the allotted blog text space. And also, I don't care that much (proof that I have the patience of a 5 year old). So I'll just give you a list:
I present to you: Fair Bingo! (sorta)
  1. Arm band tattoo
  2. Hands' free cigarette (somewhat impressive if it wasn't gross)
  3. Trucker Hat (Oh Ashton Kutcher, look what you started. And finished. People, it's done)
  4. DD's not in a brassiere
  5. Lip ring and/or other face piercings
  6. Corn dog (never been a fan really)
  7. Funnel Cake (worth the zit sprouting though)
  8. Couple sucking face and/or groping one another (see number 4)
  9. Long hair on guy (Rapunzel let down your hair)
  10. Deep Fried Treats (Oreo. Oh yes I did)
  11. Inappropriately named food booth (Creamland. uh-uh, Seriously)
  12. Cotton Candy (spun sugar = happiness)
  13. Neck Tattoo
  14. Bright swirly lights (like Vegas only not)
  15. Kid on a leash (this just amuses me)
  16. Meat on a stick
  17. Double wide stroller w/one kid in it
  18. Group (6+) of teenagers (they travel in packs)
  19. Inflatable Prizes (because who doesn't need an inflatable hammer?)
  20. mullet (but is a fair w/out a few?)
  21. Language that isn't English
  22. Grossly over weight
  23. Inappropriate shaped lollipops (pacifiers. Uh-huh, that's not creepy)
  24. Cowboy Hat
  25. Tramp Stamp
And bonus, the piece-de-resistance:

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Expiration Date

Ok, it's been a year since I seriously starting thinking about breaking my engagement. And it's about time I get over it.

I am for the most part. But there are still hiccups. I flinch if I get an email from him. I got a little upset he didn't wish me happy birthday. I smirk when I cook with all the things he hated. The thought of him with another girl annoys me. Sometimes I wish I kept my engagement ring, because I still think of it as mine, but mostly because I'm afraid he'll put it on another girl's hand.

So there's still some bitter there. I might have some of it the rest of my life. And I know that if I ever see him again, even if it's in 50 years with grown children and a well lived life, my breath will stop in my chest and I'll be that very lost and hopeless 26 year old.

But it got better, which amazes me. And I hope this is the hardest thing I'll ever choose to do, because I don't know if it was worth the anguish. But time has passed and it does heal most wounds. And it's no longer an excuse.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Oh Dear

I'm taking Bailey for a late evening walk because she just just had to go. So we're going around the block, and there's a dog not on a leash wandering around. My friend's dog was just viciously attacked by a dog not on a leash, so I was immediately wary. But lucky for us, this dog was just curious and it's owners (I assumed) were standing across the street.

I let Bailey and stranger dog approach each other and sniff. They stick their noses in inappropriate places, because they're dogs, that's what they do. I begin to lead Bailey away, but she started to crouch like she had to number two, so I wait a few moments. Then I realize stranger dog is a boy dog and he's starting to walk behind Bailey...

flashes through my head. Out of my mouth comes "Hey! Don't do that to my dog!"

Even though she's spayed, I still don't want any of that going on. She's on her leash for goodness sake so I'm only 6' away from her for starters. Eww. As far as I know, Bailey hasn't had her cherry popped. And I'm more than fine with it staying that way.

Is it wrong I want my dog to remain a virgin?

Monday, July 20, 2009

Tread Carefully

I may have spoken a bit too soon about the possibility of falling for library guy. Not that I don't like him, because I do. I like him a lot. But we haven't been able to see each other much as of late, and it's bumming me out. It's just the timing isn't there right now, and that's not a good thing only a month or two into something.

Plus there's the are we dating or just f*ck buddies question. Because it was towards the latter when we could see each other. And that part is great and all, but is that all we have? If you're going to fool around with someone, you should be emotionally mature enough to handle it (what is this? sex-ed 101?). But is it more mature to accept it for what it is, or
admit I don't like how being a f*ck buddy makes me feel and stop all together? And while right now I'm ok with it just being a physical thing, I won't be for much longer.

So what to do? Oh, maybe I should talk to the guy this actually concerns huh?

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Things I like to pop

  1. bubble wrap
  2. champagne corks
  3. wine corks
  4. corn
  5. my knuckles
  6. my back
  7. zits (gross! I know)
  8. people in the nose
  9. some people's bubble
  10. chewing gum (annoying)
  11. random thoughts in my head
Things that I do not like to pop:
  1. balloons
  2. cherries
  3. pop up ads
  4. pop rocks

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Ask me

I don't want my ex back and I don't care if I ever see him again. But there was a time when I did and would have given anything to make us work. If stars had lined up in a different way, and we were different people in general, well, I might be married right now and probably thinking I had made the biggest mistake of my life (note: not getting married in general, getting married to him).
So I know that where I am is the right place to be, and I can't change the past that brought me here. But that doesn't mean I don't wish it had happened differently.

It's that he didn't even try, the nothings. It's his loss and I know that. Maybe he knew we were a lost cause. Or he knew I probably would have made him cry and plead and jump through 14 flaming hoops over shark infested waters just to talk to me, and turned him away regardless. But it would have been nice to have been asked.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Ortho-tri something new

I hate my birth control.
This is a woman problem blog, so stop reading if you don't want to know.

While it is doing it's primary job, it makes one week a month absolute hell.

Oh no, not that week, the week before. My skin's worse, I feel like a whale, and I'll snap at anyone just for having the audacity to breath. I've always been moody the week before, but this is ridiculous. Frankly, I'm just a bitch. And I never even get to a good mood with these swings. No I go from I can somewhat tolerate people to wanting to throw myself off a cliff in 2 seconds. Or I want to strangle someone with their iPod cord. This isn't healthy.

It's not my body adjusting to the new kind of pill, it's had time to get use to it and it's just not working. So I hate it. I'm calling the doctor and I'm trying something new. Because I don't like feeling pathetic, and that's how I feel right now.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Are you a Camel?

I'm walking to the bus stop the other day and I hear the boy walking behind me hock a loogie.
And I wanted to turn around, hands on my hips and in full sass mode and ask him: "why is spitting such a gross boy habit? I mean, are you part camel?"

Seriously, it's such a crass thing to do. You ever see a well dressed man spit on the sidewalk? No, you don't, because anyone with an ounce of class in them isn't going spit like an animal whenever they feel like it.

Well anyway, I have the why is spiting such a boy habit conversation with my girlfriends and one of them asks, "what's with a girl spitting? What do you call that?"
My response was: "it's plain unladylike, that's what it is!"

But the very next day, as I'm walking home from the bus, I'm eating a bag of cherries. And what do I do? Spit the seeds out along the way, where ever I felt like it. And I didn't care. But at least I wasn't making any caveman like grunts, so no one will compare me to a camel.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Look the part

So I'm cutting through the business college and I'm looking at the people around me. I saw someone who didn't look like a typical businesses major, but then I started wondering, well, what does any major look like really? I mean, there are stereotypes for every major. And honestly, stereotypes are stereotypes because at some point they were true (or still are). So if you don't want to be one, seriously, stop acting like it (another rant another day).

But think about it, fashion majors dress like fashion majors. Theater people wear scarves and flair with their hands a lot. Business students have that all-American fraternity/sorority look to them. Engineers tend to have that slightly (or totally) dweeb wash. You get the point.

Side related story: A friend's husband asked if I thought about being a woman's studies major (I have no idea why) and my friend and I said simultaneously: "she's/I'm too pretty to be a woman's studies major. And I'm strait." (oh shush, you tell me one non-scary looking strait woman's studies major. uh-huh, yeah.)

And I don't think it's that you get a checklist of what to wear/how to act/who to be when you pick a major or career. But there's a general mold for things and similar types drift toward it.
But then what's a chemistry major look like? Because that's what I am. Well, let's see...
  • Asian: halfway, so sorta check
  • Dorky: check
  • Thick glasses: check
  • Lack of cute over-all appearance in school: I don't wear makeup and I'm hardly what you would call fashionable. So... check
Hmm, maybe I do look the part...

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Happy Birthday to ME!

This is what I did my birthday last year. I went wedding gown shopping/mocking at david's bridal with my friends (we're a mocking-type crowd. And we like it). And then I bought my real wedding gown on my birthday. And no, none of those in the pictures are the one that's hanging in the closet. (btw, the one w/the red, I totally upstaged the other bride standing right next to me in the exact same dress. I'm pretty sure I looked better than most of the brides there in the same dress they had on (it's david's bridal, you're not getting anything unique there). What? I can rock the 1000 layers of polyester tulle, and that is no small feat (neither were any of the dresses!))

What I'm doing this birthday: Going to class and working. Mom's picking up a pizza for dinner from my favorite place and I get to pick the toppings. So nothing extravagant special. Saturday I'm going to see the new Harry Potter and get ice cream, and I'm considering that my sort of birthday party. So nothing too exciting, but waaay different than last birthday.

But what a year! Not all of 26 sucked though. It started out rough. Really, really rough. I think I cried almost every single day the first 3 months of being 26. But in January, thing started to swing up. I mean, it was cold and hell and I was still quite sad the beginning of the year, but I started school. And got my dog! I ran a half marathon, and I started dating again. I moved on.

So 27, while not a super special age, is off to a low key start so far. And that's pretty good for now.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Monday, July 13, 2009


So today I'm in the library (at school) working on my homework. It's starting to frustrate me and I know it shows because I'm literally pulling at my hair. I look up to clear my head for a second, and I notice that there's a guy facing me at the next table over. And he happens to look up just as I do. I quickly look away because I do not want to make eye contact with him. I'm frustrated and pissy by this point, I know I'm mumbling to myself, so I must look pretty crazy. And no one really wants to keep eye contact with that.

But I'm not the creepy one. Because every time I glance up from my work, the guy's looking at me. You know how you can feel someone's eye boring a hole into you? Yeah, I felt that. Fortunately I needed to use a computer soon after that and went to a different section (and floor) of the library. But I couldn't shake the creepy feeling for a bit.

And then later this evening, at the public library where I work, I know the 14 year old there was giving me the same type of looks I got earlier. You don't think, working in the children's department you'll get checked out or noticed much because your clientele are kids. But kids have parents and older siblings that watch them. And the 14 year old big brother that was there today could not stop looking at my chest. And 14 or not, it's still creepy to be stared at.

It must have been creepy guy at the library day. ::shudder::

Thursday, July 9, 2009

What's in a name?

I follow 9 people on twitter. And I have 26 followers. Why some of these people follow me, I have no idea. But whatever, if these people want to read my snark and randomness, fine. But some of my followers are the equivalent of spam tweets. I'll get an email that whendie786 is following me on twitter, and here's a link to their page.

And because I like to know who's keeping tabs on me, I scope them out. But half the time, it's a picture of a whore's ass and the tweet is a link to watch them have s*x at insert-link-here. And if it one of those dirty people, I promptly block them. Because I don't want someone asking me to lick their See you Next Tuesday linked to me in any way.

I know that a lot of people get those kind of followers, but do they get them as often as I do? Or do I just have a porn-ey user name? But my friend just tweeted this: (in refence to dirty tweets) go back to MySpace where they belong. (man, myspace really is pretty trashy)

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Case of the dropsies

Today in class, I inadvertently pushed my backpack clear off the desk. And this isn't a 24" drop, this classroom is tiered, so my bag fell an extra few inches down, since it slid right off 12" wide desk. By the way, 12" desk, fail. I get the space saving try to cram as many seats in as possible, but seriously, 12" is not a lot of room to furiously take notes.

But when the backpack fell, my notebook, lab book and textbook landed on the bag of grapes I had in there. The Ziploc popped on the bottom (but the seel stayed closed tight just fine though) and the grapes spilled into the backpack. So now I'm dealing with sticky over my pens, and grapes with pencil flecks. It's an interesting combination.


And then, a few minutes later, I dropped my calculator off the back of the desk (seriously, 12" sucks), and the cover/back of it cracked, came off, and then slid across the floor somehow. Before I did anything to retrieve it though, I prudently moved my coffee mug way out of the way.

I don't even want to think about what I'll end up dropping at work.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Look it!

My sister and I made it into the 4th of July local happenings pictures!
Come see how good we look!

Like How Bailey is taking up the entire foreground though? We couldn't get her to look at the camera (and she was the one that caught the photographers eye in the first place), so eventually we told the photo dude, just take the picture. Oh Bailey, you insubordinate puppy. Meh, we still look good though!

And look it look it! I found this one a few minutes later. Us again running from earlier that morning:
Like the kindergarten art touch?

You know, I'm starting to think we may be a little photogenic...

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Bluegrass 10K

Every 4th of July, Lexington has the Bluegrass 10k race (6.2 miles for you non-metric folk). I figured why not this year, it's a nice distance and it's local, so the convenience factor was handy. And plus, I figured this was a motivation to stay in shape (and look killer in a bathing suit) the past 3 months (turns out, not so much).

But lucky for me, I did keep the running up, but not as rigorously as I was when I was training for the Derby half (way not as rigorously - I went from running around 8-10 miles a week to about 3 a week), and I had some left over in-shape-ness (? seriously, I don't know what to call my over all fitness level. I need one of those "health" meter things you get in video games) to carry me through this. But today my shoulders and back are a little sore, which I didn't have in April, so clearly I've let a few things go (boo to me).

My sister was (still is) in town for the 4th, and she decided to run the race this year too (she's a
way serious runner). I just wish I looked this good when I ran:
Sister 10 minutes ahead of me - she had an 8:35 pace and finished in 52:54
(way serious runner)

But I don't look that bad right?
Running a 10 minute mile and finishing in 62:27
(why do I put pictures of me w/no makeup and sweating?)

But I think it's time to retire this pair of running shoes They got me through 2 half marathons, the training for them, general keeping in shape runs and now this 10K. So long old friends, you've served me well.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Happy 4th! (and other things)

While America turns 233 today, and the country celebrates with parades and fireworks, clearly, Bailey's 2nd birthday is way more important in my world.

Bailey looks less than enthralled there doesn't she?

But how important you may ask? First though, how cute is she in her 4th of July bandanna? (the correct answer is adorable). Bailey means a lot to me, so I wanted to do something special on her birthday (not that she has any idea what her birthday actually is). So I made her a birthday cake! I was debating if I should go the sweet cake way (peanut butter and honey), or meat cake way (jar of baby food). I went with the meat, because I've been known to give her a dollop of peanut butter every now and again, but I so rarely (never) give her meat or table scraps.

So here she is enjoying her spoils:

She wasn't too sure at first. Sniffing it out. Meat, cheese, and carrot, what's not to love?

But a few bites later:

Cake is AWESOME!

As I'm watching her gobble it up, licking her chops and wagging her tail 1000 times a minute, I thought "I'm just so happy she's 2." And while she's a spaz, has terrible knees, hard to handle in crowds and possibly the worst guard dog ever, she's loved and she's happy.

Happy 4th of July everyone!

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Piggie Piggie

The past couple 4ths, a bunch of us have met up for fun times. Last year the party was moved to my place, so I was pondering what to serve food wise (what does it mean when I knew to buy a case of wine before I even thought about the food?). Since we didn't have a grill, regular picnic fare wasn't in the cards (and fine, it's regular picnic fare. It's not bad, but not special). And then I had the genius idea to make pulled pork, it's easy, feeds a lot of people and mmm mmm good too. And being on a sort of swine kick, I thought, well, I don't make great pancakes (or have a griddle), so what about sausage biscuits the next morning.

But I asked my girlfriends: hey, pulled pork on the 4th and sausage biscuits the morning after. It that too much pork?

They laughed at me. Apparently you can never have too much pig.

This weekend I'm making it again for my family. So there's 8lbs of pork in the fridge. For some reason this amuses me highly.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


Having lived on my own, I've acquired a few basic tools for myself just in case. Because you never know. And I mean just the basics: a Phillips and flat head screwdriver, a hammer, a pair of needle-nose pliers and slip-joint water-pump pliers (thanks wiki for the name), and an Allen wrench for good measure. And they've all come in handy at some point.

So when my ex and I moved in together, I knew we would need these, and probably during the actual move as well. So I put my tools in a bin (I got real tool box later) and remembered where I put them for moving day. Lo and behold, we're about to assemble something and he says, "oh man, we need a screwdriver to do this" in that flat-oh crap-I-don't-have-this-voice. I, on the other hand, am rummaging through my bin, grab both, pull them out while asking "Phillips or flat head?"
He looks at me for a second almost awestruck and asks:
"how come you have tools?"

My retort: "well how come you don't?"
::pause:: "good point"
(And we needed "the crossed one." Right, he didn't even know the proper name)

Turns out my ex was not a handy guy (didn't even pretend to be). Far from it, if there was a repair or assembly that didn't involve a lot of muscle, you
turned to me. (you know who assebled our dining room table and 3 of the chairs? Me. Yeah.) Once his mom was over at our place letting the dog out, and she needed my sewing kit. Not knowing what it looked like, she spies the tool box and figures to look in there. She was surprised (maybe pleasantly) to find my tools in there, but she clearly knew it was mine and not her son's. Later that afternoon when she talked to my almost sister-in-law she mentioned I had a tool box. Sil was shocked that I even had one in the first place (this whole family was not handy in the slightest) and then asked,
"what does she keep in there?"
Sil: really?
OK honestly, what else would I keep in a tool box? (art supplies, but by then my daap days were over)

But never once in that conversation did they think the toolbox belong to the boy in the house.