Always, always, always wash your hands after handling eggs.
Yes, I had food poisoning on Thanksgiving. Damned deviled eggs.
My old cell phone dies about 2 weeks ago. A friend was kind enough to give me his spare cell phone. It's a wonderful phone. Has a nice camera and all kinds of neat feature. The screen is big and bright, and the menus are easy to navigate. I spent hours programming my phone book in and giving people specialized ringers and images. Geeky fun. I love it.
I do not love Sprint. I got the phone activated on Saturday and I've had nothing but grief from them ever since. I've made 8 phone calls to them and talked to at least 20 different people. Every one of them has told me something different.
First, I was told it's a problem in our server, it will take 2-4 hours to process after I clear it out. Also, I should take the phone to the store for a software upgrade to keep it from locking up every time I turned it on.
4 Hours later they were closed. I called the next evening and I was told they needed to reset my username and password. 2-4 hours to resolve.
4 Hours later, it's a problem in our server, but here, lets fix all of these things we've screwed up along the way. He took me through manually resetting the username and password, resetting the IP addresses and several other things. (of course, 4 hours later they would be closed.)
The next day I called and was told, oh, it's trying to send a signal to both the old phone and the new phone. You have to turn your old phone off for 24 hours. No one mentioned that to me before, but it had already been off for 15 hours. She told me to call back and have someone reset the phone to all zeros if the problem didn't resolve. She also told me it would she was sending out a 'ticket' and it would take 15 hours to resolve. (You guessed it, after they closed.)
I didn't wait the 15 hours. After the old phone had been off for 26 hours, I used it to call my brother. I called and explained to the nice (read really bitchy) customer service rep that I had been told to call in and have someone reset the phone if it was still working. She informed me that was I was describing was impossible and explained the the phone still worked and I could use it to dial 911 and to call sprint, but that was it. I explained that my brother was neither 911 or sprint and I had just called him. She had me call her and of course the damn thing didn't work that time. (I think she did something while we were talking). I finally managed to get her to send me to data trouble shooting and was told the ticket was still open and I should call back in the morning.
I called back yesterday afternoon and fought my way through customer service to a tech guy who tried some more resetting of things on the phone and told me to call back in the evening if it didn't resolve.
I called back at 9pm and got a guy who told me everyone I had talked to was cracked and the wait time on a repair ticket for the problem in their server that hadn't resolved would take 36-51 hours. (that's 6pm today) He transfers me to a customer service girl who speaks broken english and tries to cancel my vision service. She then informs me that I have been using my vision service for 2 years. (I was using wireless web on the old phone until saturday.) We get it straightened out and I finally get her to understand that I want a credit on the account. She gives me $5, an insult really, like leaving a penny tip. I hang up angry.
Today, I turned the phone off and on and no service. So I called. (After removing the battery while the phone was on and leaving it out for over 2 minutes because apparently, this reboots it, but not this time.) I get this very sweet customer service rep who apologizes profusely for my troubles and then transfers me to this nasty tech guy who barely speaks english. He keeps repeating that there is nothing wrong on their end (there is) and that I just have to take the phone into a store. I finally get him to confirm that the ticket is still open and not resolved and I hang up on him.
I'm calling back in an hour. Gr.
I don't own them, but they can frequently be found in my kitchen asking to bake cookies. :)
I heard crashing and thundering in my office, so I jumped up and ran to the front entrance to see if it was raining. I got outside just in time to see the wind pick up and the trees start to bend and sway. The temperature started to drop and the air was charged with storm energy. It got darker, and the rain started to fall in huge random splats. The air started to feel clearer and cleaner and I could smell damp earth. Then the heavens open and it poured down. The wind came up in gusts, and the rain swirled and dance and then faded to a nice, clear summer shower.
I wanted to go dance in it or something, but alas, I am confined to my cool little windowless office for a few more hours and I didn't really want to sit here in a damp skirt and blouse all evening.
It's getting cooler at night, so I no longer have the bed to myself. The minute I crawl under the covers, Tabitha noses her way under and curls up behind my legs. Noah jumps on the bed and stares at me until I snuggle him in next to me. Sebastian just jumps up and flops down next to me. You'd think that three cats that weigh less than 30 lbs in total wouldn't take up much space. WRONG. Every time I try to move someone yips or meeps or digs their claws in.
I woke up this morning with one lying in the middle of my back, one curled around my ankle (under the blanket) and one attempting to suffocate me by lying on my face. Thank god the dog sleeps upstairs.
When I was younger I saw this movie called 'The Warriors' about New York street gangs, 1979 style. I'm sure you've seen it at some point. It wasn't exactly classic cinema, but I loved it, I think it was all the good looking young guys in leather. I'm hooked by this movie every time they show it on late night TV.
"Warriors, come out and Playeeay...."
Did I mention it has a very young James Remar, of 'Sex and the City'. And Michael Beck, but I'm probably the only one who remembers him.
I wonder what I'll think about all of this if I go back and read it in a year or so. Sometimes I go back and reread journals and I have no idea why I wrote what I wrote. Given a bit of distance, my life doesn't even make sense to me.
I am Paul (the apostle) trying to be all things to all people.
Is it sad and pathetic or amusing that I can make my self giggle uncontrollably?
I was blonde once. It didn't work out.
I don't take drugs because you lose brain cells everyday and you never get them back. I'm afraid to accelerate the process.
I'm afraid that little bugs, like gnats or something will get in my ear and I won't be able to get them out.
I wonder if I'm too shallow, or too deep.
I hate mirrors.
I like sex.
I think Magnolia was a really bad movie. I think American Beauty was amazing. And disturbing.
I think romance is over rated.
Holding hands makes me feel safe.
I have nothing to say and I want to say it all at once.
I don't know what to say to people when they've lost someone. I want to say, it will be ok. But it's not ok. It's hell and it sucks. You can't say that.
I like men who are intelligent, dangerous and unavailable. I also like men who can make me laugh.
I can't comprehend that people think about me when I'm not around. Why? It's not a self esteem thing, I have plenty of that.
I'm addicted to the internet.
I'm all woman. And I'm a little girl. You never know who you'll get.
I'm always running late.
I don't sleep.
I'm a flirt. I'm a tease.
I'm happy. I'm restless. I have everything I need. I want more.
Here is a piece written by Andy Rooney.
Actually, I don't know if Andy Rooney really wrote this; don't care, either. Whoever wrote it did a damn good job. There's NO way I'd EVER want to be in my 20s again.
As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:
A woman over 30 will not lie next to you in bed and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.
A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.
Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know.
A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder
where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free." Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage.
Wednesday is my favorite day of the week.
This might sound a bit odd, but I think Wednesday is my favorite day of the week. (For now anyway) What!?! you say, not Friday, or Saturday, or even Sunday!!! You freak! Nope, it's Wednesday. I even like the funky spelling of the word.
On Monday's, I'm exhausted from the weekend. By Tuesday, I've recovered a bit. On Thursday, I have to go to bed as early as I can (which I NEVER do) and on Friday have to be at work so early I'm tired and cranky all day. The weekends are a blur of everyone demanding time and attention, which is not a bad thing, I'm loved, that's good. But it's tiring. And our house in utter chaos on the weekends, it's and loud and messy and it shreds my nerves. No bedtimes, no schedules, no idea when someone will pop up and drag me off somewhere at 2am.
But Wednesday, sweet, sweet Wednesday. I've usually recovered from my Monday exhaustion and I know I don't have to get to bed early or get up too early the next day. I don't have to work anywhere but in my own little office. I so enjoy the cool, quiet solitude of my own little office. I know that when I get home, kids will be asleep and more than likely the adults too, so I'll have quiet time in my own house.
Yes, if I were a day of the week, I'd be Wednesday.
My niece came in from school today and dragged me into the bathroom to tell me she got her first kiss today. Her little boyfriend, who is also 11, gave her a kiss on the cheek this morning on the bus. She tried to give him a kiss on the cheek as well, but he turned his head and she kissed him on the mouth accidentally. I asked her "What did he do?!" and she blushed and said he kissed her back.
I asked her if it was a 'foot popping' kiss (princess diaries reference) and she said no, they aren't ready for 'foot popping' kisses. Apparently, they've discussed this and decided that there will be no real kissing until next year when they are in Jr. High. They aren't ready for that kind of thing yet. Um. That just kind of blew me away.
Anyway, Kind of sweet, kind of cute, kind of sad, kind of scary.
I hope she keeps telling me things like this.
Now, I like cold. It's definitely much less miserable than hot, so, I'm not really complaining. But. Being cold makes me...
I just want to wrap up in a nice warm blanket and go to sleep. But. I did that last night. Wrapped up in a nice warm blanket, then pulled the comforter and another blanket over me and tired to fall asleep. But...
I can't sleep.
I get so tired I can't keep my eyes open. I turn all the lights off. I lay down. I snuggle under the blankets, usually with a cat under one arm and another for a foot warmer. But I don't exactly sleep. My body is still, but my mind...
My mind races. All the things I need to do, problems that have no solution, all the things I can't control, all the people who seem to want things from me I just can't give them. Not that what they want is unreasonable. They just want more. And I don't have more right now.
I'm too tired to sleep.
Sometimes I spend too much.
Sometimes I eat too much.
Often I sleep too much.
I always think too much.
I watch too much TV.
I care too much.
I talk too much.
I read too much.
Why do I put so many limits on myself?
The girl most likey to...
...still be awake at 7am. I don't sleep enough. I'm too tired to be productive and not exhausted enough to sleep. I'm also bored at work today.
I can identify most movies in under one minute. It doesn't matter whether I walk in in the beginning, middle or end.
I sing without realizing it. It's embarrassing when other people notice before I do.
Two of my cats act more like dogs than cats. They come to you when you call them. One even makes woofing noises.
I'm messy. I'm afraid to look under the bed and there are clothes piled in the chair that I haven't work in months.
I have no patience. I hate waiting and I'm always late to everything. I read the ends of books halfway through. I try to wait, I swear.
I never went to prom. I was not a cheerleader. I was in the the choir.
I don't eat vegetables, unless you consider corn or potatoes veggies, but really they aren't. They are starches. (ok, I do eat carrots occasionally, but they have to be canned and round, not cubed).
Beans are gross, all kinds. Rice has a weird texture and I don't like the way it feels in my mouth.
Fish can only be consumed after being turned into a stick or a breaded fillet, even then, only rarely. I do not consume any other type of sea food.
I like onion dip, but only if there are no onion bits. Onions are icky and either too crunchy or too slimy.
Pasta must be in certain shapes. Angel hair, spaghetti and vermicelli get red sauce. Linguine, egg noodles, and fettuccine get white sauce. Elbow macaroni should only be used for mac and cheese. Pasta in any other form can not be consumed.
Gizzards, brains, livers and tongue should not be consumed.
Yogurt is evil.
Kiwi freak me out.
Yes, I have serious issues and I'm completely nuts.
Someone told me once that you lose 10,000 brain cells everyday and you never get them back. That little bit of information must have been in a brain cell I lost some time ago. I'm afraid that eventually I'll lose some important bit of information, like the lyrics to Dust in the Wind.
I'm saw this report on the news about tree houses for adults. I want one. :) I never had a tree house when I was a kid, but the neighbors did and I was very envious. If I had a tree house, I'd put a no boys allowed/boys suck sign on the door. Of course, some boys might be able to bribe me to get in. *wicked grin*
I'm feeling really fluffy between the ears lately. Not unintelligent, just...unwilling to spend too much time pondering the things I tend to ponder. I live in my head too much, I need a vacation. I've even been listening to books on tape and musicals as I go to sleep, because it drowns out all the stuff that usually keeps me awake. I find I'm falling asleep faster. I feel more peaceful as well, but I fear I'm playing Scarlett and one of these days all the things I'm avoiding thinking about will come back to bite me in the ass.
I had to have a 12 year molar pulled today. It should have been a simple extraction, but it broke and they had to section it and drill parts of it out. Then they had to re-x-ray. They hadn't gotten it all. I had a root burrowing into my sinus cavity, which they removed. Now I have a huge hole in my mouth and a hole in my sinus cavity. There's air moving through the hole in my mouth. It feels so damned weird.
I'm stuck in bed, recovering. Anyone want to entertain me with tales of past dental horrors?
Once there was a boy...he was a beautiful boy. Long dark hair that I was always dying to touch. Beautiful brown eyes that lit up when he smiled. His entire face lit up when he smiled and I couldn't help smiling with him, even when he was laughing at me. And when he was sad, I just wanted to hold him until he was ready to smile again. But, alas, this boy did not belong to me. I never got to hold his hand, or feel his hair slipping through my fingers (but I imagined it would feel warm and silky). I wanted him so much that I ached, but I was not his type, and we were only friends.
We were in college together and we hung out with all of the same people. One summer almost everyone we knew went home and left us. That's the summer I fell completely and utterly in love with him (and I don't think I ever got over that, not really). He was falling in love with someone else and we spent endless hours talking about her, talking about how much the situation scared him. I was the perfect friend. I listened, encouraged, consoled, and I was always there, whenever he called.
He drove a little blue probe. A stick shift. We'd go on long drives late at night, I suppose because that was when he was loneliest. I loved watching him drive. I'd try not to stare, but the play of muscles under his slacks when he shifted was so damned sexy. I loved watching his hands as well, moving from the steering wheel to the stick shift. He had strong hands, long fingers, and he played guitar, so they were a little calloused. Perfect hands. I'd imagine them touching my face as he leaned in to kiss me. But it never happened. Why is it that sometimes, you remember the things that never happened more vividly that the things that did?
My brain is crammed with useless information.
My head is full of music. Mostly bits and pieces really. I don't actually have all of the lyrics to more than a handful of songs in there, but I have bits and pieces of every song I've ever heard. Occasionally, when I'm not paying attention, some of it leaks out. Just a few notes here and there.
As I said before, I read a lot. Mostly articles and such from the internet. Sometimes my head gets so full of other people's ideas that there just doesn't seem to be any room left for my own.
I watch too much TV too. My head is crammed full of characters and plotlines. Pick a show, I can probably tell you at least something about it. (well, if you stick to shows on the networks anyway...) Really. Try me.
There's just so much stuff in my head that it's cluttered. I feel like I need to organize it better...like cleaning out mental closets and filing cabinets. I mean, seriously, do I really NEED the lyrics to the theme to the Banana Splits? Do I need to remember that Holly, Will and their dad ran into Slestacks in the Land of the Lost. So much useless information. Shouldn't I get rid of some of it to make way for new information? I mean, what if, one day, I come across of bit of vital information and my brain just says...sorry, we're all out of file space...hard drive full, information lost!
I need to send some stuff to the recycle bin and defrag my brain.
There's this commercial out right now where one actor says something utterly asinine and the other actor gets mad. To get out of the situation, the first actor offers up a meaningless 'thank you'. The second actor beams, "who me" or "you've never said that to me before". And all is well. The tag line..."a little thank you goes a long way". or something like that. The announcer goes on to explain the ways that the company (citibank maybe) will be thanking the users of their card.
Basically, what they are telling us is...hey, you are so stupid that we are going to pretend to make up for the fact that we plan to screw you blind with late charges, over the limit fees and exorbitant interest rates by offering you these meaningless thank yous.
Um, yeah. Thank you too. And I mean that. Sincerely.
1.) Ten things, just stuff and nonsense. I'm numbering because all the cool kids do it.
2.) I need to start my Christmas shopping. I'll be too busy in December to do it and so I need to be done by Thanksgiving. I have no clue what anyone wants.
3.) I have a strange tendency to announce that I am hungry, as if it's a complete shock and I have no idea what to do about it. Of course I know what to do about it, but then again, I don't. I mean, yes, I'm hungry, but for what? Do I want sweet, spicy, heavy, light...and where will I procure this food? The grocery? A restaurant...it's all much more complicated than it seems. It was so much easier when mom used to set food in front of me and tell me to eat it or go hungry. Even if I chose to go hungry, I knew more food would magically appear at set intervals. That doesn't happen anymore. Now, she just looks at me and either asks what I'm fixing of if I'm paying.
4.) Speaking of moms...mine rocks. She's ... cool. Smart, funny as hell, caring, accepting, I could go on for hours.
5.) I'm really hungry.
6.) I don't understand boys. I know what boys like. I know what boys want. I know how to turn boys on. I do not understand them.
7.) This line's mostly filler. (and if you get the reference, you know what a geek I am.)
8.) Money can't buy happiness. I'm already happy, I need to buy other things and money would really help a lot.
9.) I watch way too much TV. I know way too much about television. It's not healthy.
10.) I want certain things. I'm not willing to give up the things I'd have to give up to get them. I guess that means that the things I want aren't as important to me as the things I already have.
I am a voracious reader. I read anything, everything. I read the backs of cereal boxes even if I've read them before. I read the graffiti on bathroom walls and wonder who Kyla is and why she thinks Breena sucks. I devour words. I rarely buy magazines because I read the entire thing in one sitting. I have book shelves in every room of my apartment and they are filled with books I've read two and three times. (because, well, any book worth reading once is worth reading at least twice...)
I like books I can fall into and when I stop reading I feel like I'm waking up from a dream. I love stories that make me feel like they are more real than the world around me and characters that I miss when there's nothing left to read about them.
I remember stories I read when I was small. Not just the vague outline, but the pictures and the books themselves and where I got them and where I was when I read them and how they made me feel...
I suppose it's no surprise then that I keep finding myself looking at the clock at 4 or 5am and suddenly realizing that I've been pouring over someone's journal for the past 2 or 3 hours or following link upon link posted here. The written word is intoxicating.
I am a woman. I take care of myself. I have responsibilities, and commitments that must be honored. I depend on people, but I am dependant on no one. People depend on me. I work hard at a job I don't like, but because of it, I can pay my bills and put food on the table. But sometimes ....
I am a girl. I forget I'm a grownup. Forget that I am a woman. I blush when I'm complimented. Giggle when I get embarrassed. I get tongue tied when the cute 17 year old bag boy flirts with me. I like to sing and dance with the radio when no one is looking. I can talk on the phone for hours. And I still need my mother's approval because ....
I am a daughter. She'll always be Mom and I'll always be her kid. When I'm 65, I'll still be her child. I love my mother and I respect her. I need her love and respect in return. And while her love is always there, unconditional, I know her respect is something to be earned and therefore a precious thing. She makes me laugh and she's always there when I need her. I hope to be the there in the same way for my kids, even though I'm not a mother ....
I am an Aunt. Only an Aunt and not a mother. And yet, they are my kids too. I love them. I take care of them. I fight for them. I'm there for them as much as I'm able, as much as I am allowed to be. I worry about their futures. I love spending time with them. They are hands down the most fascinating people I know. I try to treat them with the respect my mother always gave me.
I am reliable, sexual, dependable, sensual, reasonable, sensible, logical, reserved, quiet. I am not a pessimist nor an optimist, I am a realist. I take care of myself and I take care of my friends and my family. I am strong and independent and most people don't know that...
I am afraid. Afraid something will happen to one of the kids, afraid my parents will die, afraid I'll lose my job, afraid I won't be able to pay my bills. Mostly, I'm afraid to let people know me completely. There's too much that could be disliked, judged, misjudged, misunderstood. I'm afraid of commitment, afraid of relationships, afraid of men. I'm afraid to walk alone and night...
I am angry. Angry that I don't make enough money. Angry that the government takes too much of my money. Angry that I have to worry every time the kids go to school. Angry that I have to worry every time I lose sight of them in Walmart. Angry at men who don't understand the word no. Angry at men who do understand, but just don't care. Angry at a world where people blow things up and shoot other people. Angry at so many things and yet...
I am happy. I have good friends. My family loves me and I love them. Even though I want more, I have more than enough. I have clean sheets and a soft bed. I have books and music and theater. I have good chocolate and cheap macaroni and cheese. I have dogs to pet and cats to snuggle. I have children to watch grow up and siblings to watch grow old.
Life is good and I love being female.