Just woke up. I wasn't awake enough to function, so I turned on cable. They had a big thing on Wisconsin Dells. What is crazy, is that I never really realized that we are pretty lucky to have something so big, so CLOSE to us. Probably many people around the US have no idea what they are missing. SO I am just curious, Have YOU been to the Dells, how many times, and where did you travel from.
The dells is only like 5-7 hours from us (traffic can get bad up there in the summer, and travel around Chicago area can be busy too) But I have only been there once. I have driven past the dells many times, on the way to Eu Claire, Menomonie, or Minneapolis/St. Paul. My husband's best friend lives in Menomonie with his two daughters. We spent a weeklong summer vacation in Menomonie about 4 years ago, and made a lil trip to the Mall of America in Minneapolis/St. Paul, also took a walk along the Menomonie River Walk and saw the Devil's Punch Bowl, right there by Menomonie.
I also went to the Mall of America again about 3 years ago, for a conference for work. We stayed for about 3 days in a hotel right by the airport and the mall was basically across the street. THAT was fun! I got a shopping bag charm for my charm bracelet at the mall. I found that it's almost difficult to shop when you get there, it's so overwhelming. The second time I went, I got much more shopping done. I loved that there was an FAO Schwartz there. And a HUGE Old Navy!
Sadly, I have only been at the Dells ONCE. When I was about 15, I believe it was the summer before my sophomore year, we went to the Dells for our Church Youth Group. We had SOO Much fun. We spent a whole day at Noah's Ark (the world's largest water park) and also went to Big Chief's Cart and Coaster World and played mini golf and drove go carts on the world's largest multi-level go cart track. (now Big Chief's has been remaned and expanded, it's now Mt. Olympus Water and Theme Park, located with Treasure Island Complex, see below)
I LOVED the water park, even though I can't swim and am afraid of water, once they got me started, I had a ball. I would love to be sitting on an innertube on the lazy river (Aka endless river) today! I also loved Congo Bongo and of course the two wave pools.
The cool thing is that now there are so many new things that go up in the dells. They have 18 indoor waterparks in the Dells. A big thing for families now is to drive to the dells for a long weekend in the winter to stay in one of the huge complexes like Treasure Island where there is a multi-level indoor/outdoor funland attached to the hotel. Dry rides and Water Rides. I know that a co-worker took her kids there as a Christmas Gift. There's even an indoor water park/fun park on I-80 in Iowa.
I personally would love to go do some more relaxing, adult-like things in the dells, before we have kids. I would LOVE to stay in a cabin. Tour or hike the outdoors scenery, spend the day at the spa... I could easily distract myself. Honestly, My ideal vacation is close to home, enjoying the outdoors, in a cabin by the lake, fishing and swimming, reading a book in an adirondack chair.
So lat me know, how many of you have been to the Dells, how often, and where did you travel from? What did you do, what did you see?
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Meagan 2, Treadmill 12
How can it be that I am so stupid when it comes to excercise equipment? That damn treadmill had me fooled AGAIN!
Remember when I hated the treadmill and then one day I had a revolution that I was walking on the steepest incline? And then I figured it out? and Vowed to walk every night? Yeah. Well that was like may 1st, and apparently the last time I walked on the treadmill. I walked at night outside for most of June, but then I had a week of feeling really icky at the end of June and haven't gotten back into it yet. Bad Bad Bad.
So today I thought I was going to get on the treadmill again, because my recent excuse is that it has been too damn hot to walk outside (which it has been, and incredibly humid.) So when I go to unfold the damn treadmill, I can't get the incline right AGAIN and so I thought, hmm... why not consult the manual. And of course, I learned something else. The reason why the electronic console doesn't work? Um yeah. Dead. Batteries.
Who would have thought that when you plug the treadmill into the wall, it would STILL need batteries for the console to work? Oh Jeez! So I rob the batteries from the rabbit, and it's like WHOA! I can check my pulse! See how many calories and Fat calories I have burned! See how fast I am walking! See how long I have been walking! See how many MILES I have gone! So I just walked 15 minutes, .8 mils, at between 3.5 and 4 mph. I am happy. And sweaty. Because the AC is running now but it's still 79 in here. It's too damn hot to wear the M&M Suit so I opt for a sports bra and track pants... which were ALSO too hot. I also walked with the iPod, which was grand.
Can I walk again soon, or will I be writing another post in September about how I haven't walked since JULY?
Remember when I hated the treadmill and then one day I had a revolution that I was walking on the steepest incline? And then I figured it out? and Vowed to walk every night? Yeah. Well that was like may 1st, and apparently the last time I walked on the treadmill. I walked at night outside for most of June, but then I had a week of feeling really icky at the end of June and haven't gotten back into it yet. Bad Bad Bad.
So today I thought I was going to get on the treadmill again, because my recent excuse is that it has been too damn hot to walk outside (which it has been, and incredibly humid.) So when I go to unfold the damn treadmill, I can't get the incline right AGAIN and so I thought, hmm... why not consult the manual. And of course, I learned something else. The reason why the electronic console doesn't work? Um yeah. Dead. Batteries.
Who would have thought that when you plug the treadmill into the wall, it would STILL need batteries for the console to work? Oh Jeez! So I rob the batteries from the rabbit, and it's like WHOA! I can check my pulse! See how many calories and Fat calories I have burned! See how fast I am walking! See how long I have been walking! See how many MILES I have gone! So I just walked 15 minutes, .8 mils, at between 3.5 and 4 mph. I am happy. And sweaty. Because the AC is running now but it's still 79 in here. It's too damn hot to wear the M&M Suit so I opt for a sports bra and track pants... which were ALSO too hot. I also walked with the iPod, which was grand.
Can I walk again soon, or will I be writing another post in September about how I haven't walked since JULY?
Procrastination
Did I mention how freakin spectacular I am today? It's 12:20pm and I haven't brushed my teeth or my hair. I pulled a red cotton tank dress out of the laundry hamper (it was on the top of the pile, I totally just wore it on Thursday) and threw it on so I could let the dogs outside. No bra. No underwear. And really, I am comfortable. Really comfortable. I am so un-freaking-motivated it's comical. Yesterday I had lots of labs done, so they drew lots of blood, like 6 or 7 vials, and I hate needles and do terrible with blood loss, so after I finally ate after 17 hours of fasting, I was wiped. I laid around in bed all of
last night, except for one adventurous trip outside.Today when I woke up, it was hotter than hell (this was 11am) in the house because the AC kicks off (I have to reprogram that goddamn electronic thermostat.) and it was 85 in here. I padded out to the Thermostat and decided that I should FINALLY reprogram it (it's been this way since December when the remodeling finished) and then I sucessfully locked the damn thing so that it was set on 85 and wouldn't move. I was getting more pissed off every second as I tried to reset it, and it wouldn't reset, I could feel myself starting to sweat, which pissed me off even more. So I woke up my husband. He padded out and squinted at it. He couldn't get it fixed, so I got the brilliant idea to trip the breaker and cut the power, so that it had to reset itself. Mission Accomplished.
I do have the dishwasher running. I looked through about 10 catalogs. I am a catalog shopper. I need nothing. Yet I receive more catalogs than a 75 year old lady. S
erious. So I did the obligatory Eddie Bauer, LL Bean, JC Penney, Lillian Vernon, HP, Office Depot, Domestications, etc. lookthrough while lying on the couch. Then I thought. "I should do something" so I ate the rest of the sliced turkey from the crisper, gave 1 piece to each dog, went pee, and I even flushed the toilet (how's that for ambition!) and now here I am. Cleaning people come back on Monday. Thank God. We are drowning in dog hair, and I can't do anything about it, since the vacuum is in the closet and I would have to open the door and get it out if I wanted to vacuum. Nah. Cleaning people come on Monday.I have so much laundry to do. But I am waiting for the dishwasher to finish (good excuse, eh?) becuase if I run both at once, it costs more money because the hot water heater can't keep up, and the dishwasher has to heat the water itself. I don't really know if it costs
more money, because the dishwasher is electric, and the hot water heater is gas, but I don't want to wrap my head around that anymore, so I just say "can't do it. conserving." and that allows me to look at catalogs, blog, and think very deeply about things like which lunchmeat to eat... instead of taking a much needed shower or doing luandry. And see, that will be my next decision.... do I shower and make myself presentable (complete with apron and Donna Reid Pearls?) or do I start laundry (it's the water thing again.) and really, I know that if I take a shower, I won't ever do the laundry. So I had better keep on wearing this fabulous dress and work on the laundry next.Please don't ever visit me unannounced. You don't know what state you will find me in.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
The Nightstand Drawer, and other Tales from the Bedroom
I must be in the organizing mood tonight. I rebuilt the sidebar on the blog, and made everything collapsable. This made it much neater, although I feel like no one may ever see anything over there again. Oh well. Not the end of the world. Looks better anyway. Try it out. Let me know of any problems. Of course IE is still all fucked up, I think ginger went AWOL on me, and I don't blame her. I don't know how to fix the damn thing, and believe me I have tried... and so has ginger. So hopefully you can all read via RSS Feed or upgrade yourself to Firefox, where the happy people are.
After cleaning up the sidebar, I decided to clean out my nightstand drawer. It's been a while. How do I know that? Besides that I just KNOW? Probably the bath and body works coupon for free lip gloss that expired in December 2004. Or perhaps the empty birth control pill packets when I haven't used the pill as my form of birth control for 13 months... and there were like 7 empty packets in there.
I found 13 of my 957 misplaced chapsticks, LOTS of dead batteries *cough* and bobby pins, paper clips, meltish vitamin C throat drops, blister packs of Claritin D, Vitamins I gave up on... it was interesting what all I found. Three pairs of fingernail clippers, 1 set of toenail clippers. Four nail files. Buttons. Pens. Pencils. 4 Yellow Highlighters. A dolphin... *cough* Sticky Notes. Bookmarks. Hair Clips. The remote control to the window AC unit that we used last summer during remodeling and has been in the garage for the past 11 months. 1 stray maxi pad (Un-used of course!) Scissors, a pink rabbit, *cough cough* Band-Aids, Wal-Mart receipts. Matches. The lid to a ball canning jar. Cephalexin. Nabumetone. Flashlight. A Hot Heart Massager. 2 Empty Tums Bottles. A winning Sprite cap. Handheld Electronic Blackjack Game. Tape measure. All in 1 drawer. You can't make this shit up.
So. Now it's like "where do I put this shit?" I mean obviously it doesn't all belong in the nightstand drawer. Although I could apparently balance the checkbook, take phone messages, indulge in a little self-gratification, self-medicate, perform manicures, drink free Sprite, measure *something*, perform first-aid, almost can vegetables, play blackjack, cut and style my hair, and give a massage... all without leaving the comfort of my bed. I've always been a multi-tasker.
So, um, speaking of the bedroom, does organizing turn you on baby?
After cleaning up the sidebar, I decided to clean out my nightstand drawer. It's been a while. How do I know that? Besides that I just KNOW? Probably the bath and body works coupon for free lip gloss that expired in December 2004. Or perhaps the empty birth control pill packets when I haven't used the pill as my form of birth control for 13 months... and there were like 7 empty packets in there.
I found 13 of my 957 misplaced chapsticks, LOTS of dead batteries *cough* and bobby pins, paper clips, meltish vitamin C throat drops, blister packs of Claritin D, Vitamins I gave up on... it was interesting what all I found. Three pairs of fingernail clippers, 1 set of toenail clippers. Four nail files. Buttons. Pens. Pencils. 4 Yellow Highlighters. A dolphin... *cough* Sticky Notes. Bookmarks. Hair Clips. The remote control to the window AC unit that we used last summer during remodeling and has been in the garage for the past 11 months. 1 stray maxi pad (Un-used of course!) Scissors, a pink rabbit, *cough cough* Band-Aids, Wal-Mart receipts. Matches. The lid to a ball canning jar. Cephalexin. Nabumetone. Flashlight. A Hot Heart Massager. 2 Empty Tums Bottles. A winning Sprite cap. Handheld Electronic Blackjack Game. Tape measure. All in 1 drawer. You can't make this shit up.
So. Now it's like "where do I put this shit?" I mean obviously it doesn't all belong in the nightstand drawer. Although I could apparently balance the checkbook, take phone messages, indulge in a little self-gratification, self-medicate, perform manicures, drink free Sprite, measure *something*, perform first-aid, almost can vegetables, play blackjack, cut and style my hair, and give a massage... all without leaving the comfort of my bed. I've always been a multi-tasker.
So, um, speaking of the bedroom, does organizing turn you on baby?
Real Beauty is not High Maintenance
So, as I am about to embark on my post about high maintenance (in this post to be known as *HM*).... I think "I know I blogged about this before" and so I started to look, and low and behold, I did. But I am going to do it again, from a different perspective, and do my best to not repeat myself. And I am not even going to link to the old post, so that if I do repeat myself you will have to find it in order to prove it.
I frequently think about high maintenance. As one of my friends can attest to. The phrase "high maintenance" frequently comes up in our conversations. Not only because we run across people that are *HM*, but because I am always wondering, worrying, am I teetering dangerously close to being CONSIDERED high maintenance? Because I like to get a massage and a pedicure, because I like to have nice clothes and jewelry, because I wear makeup and color my hair? I always worry that people might see me as high maintenance. And my friend always convinces me that won't happen.
My entire existence, I have worn whatever I wanted to. When I was in high school I was often referred to as having a "hippie" style. Funky. Didn't care what was in style because I had my own style. I wore shirts to school that people weren't supposed to wear to school. And while most kids were wearing "Coed Naked" or "Big Johnson" shirts and trying to get away with them, or Budweiser and Marlboro shirts, I never owned any of those. I had my own shirts. But teachers were SOOOO Busy looking for the 'typical" shirts (which got turned inside out before lunch time) they were never looking for my shirts, and so I wore them all the time, without ever being noticed or reprimanded. My "Chronic the Hemp Hog" shirt I wore for two years straight. Never once got noticed. It just looked like a slightly green version of Sonic, right? No teachers noticed that his spikes were really a pot leaf, and his eyes were a little bloodshot. I had a shirt that looked like all the "Mean People Suck" shirts, with a big smiley face. But mine said, "If Mean People Suck, than Nice People Swallow." and I wore that shirt until the day my dad saw it, and it disappeared forever. Damn it.
Well eventually I got into the real world, and while I still have great shirts like "Sleeps Well With Others" and "I blogged your mom" and the cartoon Drawn Together with two cartoon chicks scantily clad and making out.... I don't wear those to work. Ever. Of course. So for years, I have gone as mainstream as I can tolerate on a day to day basis. When I worked in pre-K I wore outfits that made me look like a teacher, although a sexy one. Long dark skirts with slits up the side or back, high heels, and nice dress shirts. I played the part. I was accepted by parents and teachers alike. All teachers are just people. But they all had to play the part. They might be buck naked in handcuffs by the end of the night, but they still have to play the part.
I worked in offices. I made coffee, I took phone messages, I dressed the part.
So one day, probably 6 years ago, I got one of these email memes where you send it out and your friends filled it out about YOU and returned it. I emailed it out. One of the questions was "Describe My style" and I was appalled at the answers. People who had only known me in more recent years had ABSOLUTELY different answers than people I had gone to high school with. My old friends all put "hippie" or "funky" or "individual" and the people who had only known me through work or in recent years had answered "preppy" or "put-together." I was like WHAT?! Preppy!?? Wow. What has HAPPENED to my image? Do these people view me as *HM*??
And then I realized that these new people had never seen me in my tennis shoes with lavendar Care Bear Laces and with Bright Red Streaks in my hair. They had never seen me with my nose pierced (10 years ago, before it was so mainstream.) These people had formed an entire OPINION about me based on my "chameleon" ways, dressing the part of my job. It's the same feeling I get when I walk into Hot Topic at 27, dressed in work clothes or regular bootcut jeans and sandals. I can imagine the punk rock kids in there just thinking "what the hell is that preppy bitch doing in here" and I think to myself.... "No! That's not me! Can't you see?! Don't you KNOW?! It's ME! I am like YOU!"
But actually the last two times I have been in a Hot Topic, I have gotten fabulously treated by all the employees, and they have never ever looked at me strangely. They usually strike up a conversation about whatever I am buying, like how kick ass Sublime is (oh they are so young! It's like they never even KNEW Sublime!) and Family Guy, and Care Bears or Strawberry Shortcake, and I realize, they have to recognize, even just a little bit, that I was once like them. That I am STILL like them! I didn't (and don't) have 9000 zippers on my black pants, but I was an individual and I lived through those cool things and cool times, and I realize that they are just like me. Mostly good kids. Polite Kids. Kids with a job. Kids whose parents don't like the color of their hair or the ring in their nose. And I feel a kinship. And I wonder, can they feel that? Can they SEE that in me? Can they see what really matters? Or do they just see what I am wearing? Where I work. My Wedding Ring?
So how does all this fit in with high maintenance? I firmly hold onto the belief that you can't be such an amazing individual with your own distinctive taste, and become high maintenance. It's just not possible. Because everything you stand for, every bit of being yourself and nobody else, is against the essence of what is "high maintenance."
*HM* is having too keep yourself looking good for the sake of looking like everybody else. For the sake of fitting in and for the sake of being recognized as "magazine/model beautiful." High Maintenance is peopl
e having a hard time recognizing the beauty that is individuality. The beauty that is that woman with red hair and freckles and smooth pale skin... who wears no makeup but is fresh and honest and smiling. She is beautiful. If you saw her walking down the street or looking through a store window, you might not recognize it instantly. But the second she smiles, the second she says hello, the second you catch a glimpse of "her" you can't miss it. She is amazingly beautiful. She doesn't look like a porn star. But you like the way her hair flips, the way her eyes sparkle, the way her fingers grasp the hands of her 4 month old daughter. Those are the things that make her beautiful. And anyone in their right mind would be drawn to her. They would feel connected to her. They would want to spend time with her, or just plain watch her from a distance.
Or maybe it's the pretty blonde, she has a nice body, and she has long straight hair. She's wearing makeup and jewelry. She might even be beautiful at first glance, but what makes you look again isn't her body or her clothes... it's something about HER. Something that shines through what you see at first. It's the way her head tilts to the side when she laughs at something a friend said. It's the way she absently twirls her shoelace around her finger. It's the way she picks up her friend's daughter and kisses her forhead and makes her giggle. Those are the things that make her look AMAZINGLY beautiful. It's her personality that shines through. It's compassion and fun and all those personality traits shining through.
And the high maintenance person doesn't see these things, or maybe chooses not to. The high maintenance person is so wrapped up in what the clothes look like, or what the hair and makeup look like, and all the physical appearance, that they completely and totally miss the most important part.
This is what puts the high maintenance person at a disadvantage. They are looking for something specific. They have in their mind exactly what Mr Right will look like, what job he will have, what kind of ring he will buy her, the apartment they will live in. And Ms. *HM* will never even notice when Mr. Right walks right past her. He might turn his head and look back at her but it won't even matter, because she will not be looking back at him. Maybe his profession didn't match her image of Mr. Right, or maybe it was his clothes, or his shoes, or maybe he was missing that chiseled chin that she pictures in every dream. Some people get so wrapped up in *perfect* that a truly perfect thing slips right past them.
High Maintenance people, above all, have an image to uphold. And if someone doesn't fit in with their image, it's difficult for them to look past that.
And I am not saying there aren't some fabulous, fun, and energetic *HM* people out there. I am not saying they can't be funny and compassionate and great friends. But I feel like there's a piece to life they are missing.
Probably my favorite magazine or TV ad of all time is the Dove Real Beauty Campaign. Those women are BEAUTIFUL! Every hair color, skin color, eye color, body shape.... but their personalities are what really show through. Their individuality. It kind of remings me of Benneton Ads from the very early 90's. You know, the United Colors of Benneton? When all the models wore something completely different, different hair, different expressions, different clothes, different skin colors. People. Different People. representing the real beautiful things in life.
I guess that my mind keeps turning over in my head what makes someone high maintenance. And there isn't a definition. There never will be. But I have met enough "cookie cutter" people in my life who spend so much time trying to be like everyone else, or like SOMEONE else in particular.... that I really appreciate meeting an individual. A person who has opinions, thoughts, and a personality that shines through. A person who is beautiful in many ways. Who has a good attitude, a positive outlook, and a tolerance and respect for what is different.
What Turns Your Head? Tell me, please?
I frequently think about high maintenance. As one of my friends can attest to. The phrase "high maintenance" frequently comes up in our conversations. Not only because we run across people that are *HM*, but because I am always wondering, worrying, am I teetering dangerously close to being CONSIDERED high maintenance? Because I like to get a massage and a pedicure, because I like to have nice clothes and jewelry, because I wear makeup and color my hair? I always worry that people might see me as high maintenance. And my friend always convinces me that won't happen.My entire existence, I have worn whatever I wanted to. When I was in high school I was often referred to as having a "hippie" style. Funky. Didn't care what was in style because I had my own style. I wore shirts to school that people weren't supposed to wear to school. And while most kids were wearing "Coed Naked" or "Big Johnson" shirts and trying to get away with them, or Budweiser and Marlboro shirts, I never owned any of those. I had my own shirts. But teachers were SOOOO Busy looking for the 'typical" shirts (which got turned inside out before lunch time) they were never looking for my shirts, and so I wore them all the time, without ever being noticed or reprimanded. My "Chronic the Hemp Hog" shirt I wore for two years straight. Never once got noticed. It just looked like a slightly green version of Sonic, right? No teachers noticed that his spikes were really a pot leaf, and his eyes were a little bloodshot. I had a shirt that looked like all the "Mean People Suck" shirts, with a big smiley face. But mine said, "If Mean People Suck, than Nice People Swallow." and I wore that shirt until the day my dad saw it, and it disappeared forever. Damn it.
Well eventually I got into the real world, and while I still have great shirts like "Sleeps Well With Others" and "I blogged your mom" and the cartoon Drawn Together with two cartoon chicks scantily clad and making out.... I don't wear those to work. Ever. Of course. So for years, I have gone as mainstream as I can tolerate on a day to day basis. When I worked in pre-K I wore outfits that made me look like a teacher, although a sexy one. Long dark skirts with slits up the side or back, high heels, and nice dress shirts. I played the part. I was accepted by parents and teachers alike. All teachers are just people. But they all had to play the part. They might be buck naked in handcuffs by the end of the night, but they still have to play the part.
I worked in offices. I made coffee, I took phone messages, I dressed the part.
So one day, probably 6 years ago, I got one of these email memes where you send it out and your friends filled it out about YOU and returned it. I emailed it out. One of the questions was "Describe My style" and I was appalled at the answers. People who had only known me in more recent years had ABSOLUTELY different answers than people I had gone to high school with. My old friends all put "hippie" or "funky" or "individual" and the people who had only known me through work or in recent years had answered "preppy" or "put-together." I was like WHAT?! Preppy!?? Wow. What has HAPPENED to my image? Do these people view me as *HM*??
And then I realized that these new people had never seen me in my tennis shoes with lavendar Care Bear Laces and with Bright Red Streaks in my hair. They had never seen me with my nose pierced (10 years ago, before it was so mainstream.) These people had formed an entire OPINION about me based on my "chameleon" ways, dressing the part of my job. It's the same feeling I get when I walk into Hot Topic at 27, dressed in work clothes or regular bootcut jeans and sandals. I can imagine the punk rock kids in there just thinking "what the hell is that preppy bitch doing in here" and I think to myself.... "No! That's not me! Can't you see?! Don't you KNOW?! It's ME! I am like YOU!"
But actually the last two times I have been in a Hot Topic, I have gotten fabulously treated by all the employees, and they have never ever looked at me strangely. They usually strike up a conversation about whatever I am buying, like how kick ass Sublime is (oh they are so young! It's like they never even KNEW Sublime!) and Family Guy, and Care Bears or Strawberry Shortcake, and I realize, they have to recognize, even just a little bit, that I was once like them. That I am STILL like them! I didn't (and don't) have 9000 zippers on my black pants, but I was an individual and I lived through those cool things and cool times, and I realize that they are just like me. Mostly good kids. Polite Kids. Kids with a job. Kids whose parents don't like the color of their hair or the ring in their nose. And I feel a kinship. And I wonder, can they feel that? Can they SEE that in me? Can they see what really matters? Or do they just see what I am wearing? Where I work. My Wedding Ring?
So how does all this fit in with high maintenance? I firmly hold onto the belief that you can't be such an amazing individual with your own distinctive taste, and become high maintenance. It's just not possible. Because everything you stand for, every bit of being yourself and nobody else, is against the essence of what is "high maintenance."
*HM* is having too keep yourself looking good for the sake of looking like everybody else. For the sake of fitting in and for the sake of being recognized as "magazine/model beautiful." High Maintenance is peopl
e having a hard time recognizing the beauty that is individuality. The beauty that is that woman with red hair and freckles and smooth pale skin... who wears no makeup but is fresh and honest and smiling. She is beautiful. If you saw her walking down the street or looking through a store window, you might not recognize it instantly. But the second she smiles, the second she says hello, the second you catch a glimpse of "her" you can't miss it. She is amazingly beautiful. She doesn't look like a porn star. But you like the way her hair flips, the way her eyes sparkle, the way her fingers grasp the hands of her 4 month old daughter. Those are the things that make her beautiful. And anyone in their right mind would be drawn to her. They would feel connected to her. They would want to spend time with her, or just plain watch her from a distance.Or maybe it's the pretty blonde, she has a nice body, and she has long straight hair. She's wearing makeup and jewelry. She might even be beautiful at first glance, but what makes you look again isn't her body or her clothes... it's something about HER. Something that shines through what you see at first. It's the way her head tilts to the side when she laughs at something a friend said. It's the way she absently twirls her shoelace around her finger. It's the way she picks up her friend's daughter and kisses her forhead and makes her giggle. Those are the things that make her look AMAZINGLY beautiful. It's her personality that shines through. It's compassion and fun and all those personality traits shining through.
And the high maintenance person doesn't see these things, or maybe chooses not to. The high maintenance person is so wrapped up in what the clothes look like, or what the hair and makeup look like, and all the physical appearance, that they completely and totally miss the most important part.
This is what puts the high maintenance person at a disadvantage. They are looking for something specific. They have in their mind exactly what Mr Right will look like, what job he will have, what kind of ring he will buy her, the apartment they will live in. And Ms. *HM* will never even notice when Mr. Right walks right past her. He might turn his head and look back at her but it won't even matter, because she will not be looking back at him. Maybe his profession didn't match her image of Mr. Right, or maybe it was his clothes, or his shoes, or maybe he was missing that chiseled chin that she pictures in every dream. Some people get so wrapped up in *perfect* that a truly perfect thing slips right past them.
High Maintenance people, above all, have an image to uphold. And if someone doesn't fit in with their image, it's difficult for them to look past that.
And I am not saying there aren't some fabulous, fun, and energetic *HM* people out there. I am not saying they can't be funny and compassionate and great friends. But I feel like there's a piece to life they are missing.
Probably my favorite magazine or TV ad of all time is the Dove Real Beauty Campaign. Those women are BEAUTIFUL! Every hair color, skin color, eye color, body shape.... but their personalities are what really show through. Their individuality. It kind of remings me of Benneton Ads from the very early 90's. You know, the United Colors of Benneton? When all the models wore something completely different, different hair, different expressions, different clothes, different skin colors. People. Different People. representing the real beautiful things in life.
I guess that my mind keeps turning over in my head what makes someone high maintenance. And there isn't a definition. There never will be. But I have met enough "cookie cutter" people in my life who spend so much time trying to be like everyone else, or like SOMEONE else in particular.... that I really appreciate meeting an individual. A person who has opinions, thoughts, and a personality that shines through. A person who is beautiful in many ways. Who has a good attitude, a positive outlook, and a tolerance and respect for what is different.What Turns Your Head? Tell me, please?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Pointless Lazy Post
Tonight, I feel so lazy. I have literally done NOTHING for the first time in a long ass time. Wel okay, I didn't do nothing. But close to nothing. I came home and picked up the living room a bit, the bedroom, picked up my shoes from around the house, put laundry in the hamper, and prepared to run the vacuum. But then Anya came over with Ava, to borrow some cookbooks, and we sat in the house and then out on the swing talking for a long time, probably 2.5-3 hours. So That's all. And now I will take a bath and get ready for bed.
I am trying to think... do I want to start a new post? Kinda. But I know I won't finish it. So I suppose I should make it a seperate post that I can publish whenever I finish it.
Who cares , right?
I am trying to think... do I want to start a new post? Kinda. But I know I won't finish it. So I suppose I should make it a seperate post that I can publish whenever I finish it.
Who cares , right?
Wednesday, Just over the hump!
Today went well. I was so busy, and that was okay. My back is still sore, but not terribly, and I feel much more relaxed. I have also made a conscious effort during the day to relax my shoulders and remove them from under my earlobes. I straightened my desk chair back at work, hoping that will help.
Husband offered to "clean the kitchen together" tonight and "work on the light in the bedroom." Which is promising, even to the point of ALMOST being exciting. Sad, isn't it? What excites us as adults? Like "the power bill went down $10.00! Whoo-Hoo!" or "Laundry detergent on SALE! wOOt!"
Tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if I am not so wrapped up in housework, remind me to blog about "High Maintenance" - it's been on my mind lately, and I have the whole post composed in my head, I just need a lil time to type it all out.
Stay Tuned...
Husband offered to "clean the kitchen together" tonight and "work on the light in the bedroom." Which is promising, even to the point of ALMOST being exciting. Sad, isn't it? What excites us as adults? Like "the power bill went down $10.00! Whoo-Hoo!" or "Laundry detergent on SALE! wOOt!"
Tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if I am not so wrapped up in housework, remind me to blog about "High Maintenance" - it's been on my mind lately, and I have the whole post composed in my head, I just need a lil time to type it all out.
Stay Tuned...
The Mack Truck Massage
"I'm pretty sure it was a Mack Truck, officer... the one that hit me. **pulls up shirt in back** Can you look between my shoulder blades? Do you see the Mack logo in the grill marks? No? Nothing? Are you sure? No Bulldogs? Damn, I could swear...**lowers shirt gingerly**I woke up this morning and I could just feel every muscle in my back. Where was I last night? Well, I.. uh... went to Peru for a massage, and then I stopped by Anya's...No... it couldn't have been the massage officer, you must be mistaken, Tin
a* wasn't a big lady... and it felt so good.... well most of the time... except when she was working on my shoulders and back... I guess that was a little painful... you don't suppose..."That was the best best best massage. And today... I. Am. Feeling. It. Wow. It is 7:31am and I am "awake" (magical, unbelievable) and running a lavendar mineral salt bath as we speak.
The Ariva spa was *FAB* with buttery colored walls and thick plush rugs and a double wide massage table with soft flannel sheets in butter color to match the walls. There was a giant (and pleasantly loud) floor fountain in my massage room and candles on the walls. It was clean and soft, and quiet. There was the tranquil music, like I was in a Zen Garden. And then, there was Tina*. She was wonderful. p
olite. didn't talk during the massage. and her hands were so strong! How is that even possible? I suppose that was the most swedish massage I have ever had, and the longest (1 hour) and probably the massage that I have most needed in my enitre life.It literally took me about 35 or 40 minutes before I finally felt fully relaxed and was able to shut off my mind. It has NEVER taken me that long, and it had nothing to do with the atmoshphere, or Tina*. It was all me so stressed out and tense. I kept trying to think "zen garden, that really toned yoga guy (my buddy Rodney Yee) sitting on a rock in staff pose, all the flowery leaves floating through the air in the movie Hero." I was trying to get into my "place" but it just would NOT happen. All I could think aout were swedish fish, those gummy fish. Because she was somehow able to flop her hands around on my back and it made me think of a flopping fish and I started to think "Is that why they call those gummy fish Swedish Fish?" and then I started to think about those paper thin Fortune Teller Fish that you lie in your palm and they either lift their head, their tail, or both, or neither, and it means... something. I will have to look into that. These are the things running through my mind during my massage. I was strugggling to shut off my mind, to say the least. Zen Garden. Rodney Yee. Floating Leaves. Trickling Streams. Pagodas. Japanese Maples. Monks Chanting. Bare Feet. Smooth Black Rocks. Warmth of the sun on my face.
She worked on my neck and shoulders and back until I FINALLY relaxed. It amazes me that they
know it's happened. Amazing. I know that I had terrible knots in my shoulders, and more on my right side... all from my neck to down about 6 inches below my shoulder blades. And I felt every knot as she worked them out. My favorite part is the hand massage, and the foot massage, and the neck massage.This was the very first massage I had completely naked. Most of them I leave my underwear on, but this time, when I asked to what degree I was to undress, she said "Take everything off, unless yo
u are more comfortable to leave your panties on... it's your decision." Well, if you know me, all it takes is one invitation to be naked. I totally believe that you can't fully relax unless you are naked. I have envy for nudists and naturalists. I would have been a naked chick at Woodstock. So I went *au naturale* and it was fab.Last night I felt all loose and comfortable and my skin was all soft from the massage oil. I went right to sleep at midnight. This morning I woke up naturally at 6:15, and when I tried to move, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. And that's the true nature of how sore I realy was before.. but now it's a good feeling, (after 2 Excedr
in, a bottle of water, and 40 minutes on the heating pad) and I am pleased with the results. My shoulders have dropped about 8 inches from their former location up near my ears. It's a great, loose, relaxed feeling. And I intend to go back to Tina*. Monthly. Wow. Do I ever. She was awesome, professional, skilled, and made me feel relaxed and at home. I highly recommend her.*Tina might be her real name. I can't remember. It might be Terri. My mind is too foggy this early. I will double check later when I get to my wallet and her card. I hope to know her on a first name basis for as long as we both shall live.
UPDATE: Tina is her real name.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I
I am: So Independent that it is exhausting, even to myself.
I want: To be able to fully relax, and tell some people, even some people that I love, to Fuck Off without hurting their feelings.
I have: a splitting headache gained from trying to maintain an even keel this week.
I wish: I could be completely alone for 48 hours. In quiet. In peace. With no work, no chores, and no bothers.
I hate: people who have no tolerance of varying beliefs, colors, religions, sexual orientations~ all of what make our world so diverse and special.
I miss: Carrie. And now her baby Kara, although I have never met her.
I hear: My own thoughts. Endlessly chattering and turning things over in my head.
I wonder: How many years I can continue to feel this stressed without having a heart attack or something.
I regret: Wanting to get out of school and get into the real world.
I am not: Going to let things that I cannot change push me over the edge.
I dance: whenever my iPod earbuds are inserted in my ears.
I sing: The words that I make up to popular songs.
I cry: When I can’t take the same old shit any longer, and I get so angry I can’t contain it anymore.
I am not always: patient. Almost never in fact.
I make with my hands: Anything I can convince myself to sit still long enough to do.
I write: A blog post each and every day, to help me process information and think things through… and to document my life… for a reason that is still unknown
I confuse: relaxation with failure
I need: Someone else who really understands me. And it’s still only me.
I should: Tell my husband how I feel more often. And this is both for the good and bad.
I start: To tell people that I will help them and then I regret it later.
I finish: Each day with resistance. I don’t want to go to sleep and I keep moving until I can’t fight it anymore.
Tomorrow I will stab a knife in my other tire.....
My frustration level is pretty high. I have my reasons, not all of which I will share with you today.
I started to feel frustrated yesterday. Monday. Big surprise. I have a new stress ball at work, called the inside out ball, and I love it. I held onto it the whole day yesterday, stretching it, tossing it, turning it inside and outside over and over. People commented. I didn't care. It kept me from snapping.
I can feel the tension in my neck and back, it's killing me, and I wanted to get a massage to clear it up. I called the massage place and still today no return call.
Last night when I got home, to a house full of dishes, luandry, dog hair, and littered with my husband's abandoned pop cans and popsicle sticks, I had a note from my husband, that he was "out" and might see a movie with a friend. I am glad he left a note. But what I am not glad about, that he could leave home at 4:30pm to go hang out with a friend, but he couldn't takle the garbage out Sunday night, so I did it, he couldn't pick up the popsicle sticks, or put a clean bag in the garbage can, or fold the laundry or put clothes in a hamper. That's what frustrates me. And I got home from work at 8pm, by the time I ate supper it was almost 9pm, and I was exausted.
So I went to sleep and this morning when I got up, low and behold, MORE abandoned popsicle sticks, and pop cans, and dirty laundry on the floor.
And then I went to the basement.... laundry still not folded (like the laundry fairy would come in the night? WTF was I thinking?) and there is water on the floor of the laundry room because the overflowing gutters are packed full on that side of the house and need cleaned and repaired and have for MONTHS and husband hasn't touched them, just like the garage door that's broke, and the light in the bedroom that doesn't work.
And then I get out to my car, and I have a flat tire. And then I go to put air in the tire, and all I hear is **HISS** and so I know there is a leak. So I run home to call work and go get a new tire, and husband has locked me OUT of the house and I have to bang on the door to get in. Then I go change clothes and run to Geneseo to get a new tire.
$100 later, I arrive back at home to find him still sleeping (1pm) and the toilet in the bathroom all clogged up, which it was NOT when I left home.
I think my main train of thought today was "Go to work before I fucking kill you" and my afterthought was "and pick up your fucking messes!"
So. I have no PTO at work, yet I haven't taken a vacation since our wedding last August, so I am pretty cranky there too. My neck is killing me. My friend Anya is a Message Therapist and you can't even begin to imagine how many times I have thought of asking her for a massage. But I feel guilty asking.
So I just called Ariva Day Spa in the Peru Mall, and instantly scheduled an hour long massage for tonight after work. Ahhh.... Ariva. So So So Happy! I want to support local business in Princeton, but I haven't gotten a call back and I am stressed and I need relief sooner than later.
Hopefully, this will make me happier. Or at least a little less on edge. I would hate to go postal.
I started to feel frustrated yesterday. Monday. Big surprise. I have a new stress ball at work, called the inside out ball, and I love it. I held onto it the whole day yesterday, stretching it, tossing it, turning it inside and outside over and over. People commented. I didn't care. It kept me from snapping.
I can feel the tension in my neck and back, it's killing me, and I wanted to get a massage to clear it up. I called the massage place and still today no return call.
Last night when I got home, to a house full of dishes, luandry, dog hair, and littered with my husband's abandoned pop cans and popsicle sticks, I had a note from my husband, that he was "out" and might see a movie with a friend. I am glad he left a note. But what I am not glad about, that he could leave home at 4:30pm to go hang out with a friend, but he couldn't takle the garbage out Sunday night, so I did it, he couldn't pick up the popsicle sticks, or put a clean bag in the garbage can, or fold the laundry or put clothes in a hamper. That's what frustrates me. And I got home from work at 8pm, by the time I ate supper it was almost 9pm, and I was exausted.
So I went to sleep and this morning when I got up, low and behold, MORE abandoned popsicle sticks, and pop cans, and dirty laundry on the floor.
And then I went to the basement.... laundry still not folded (like the laundry fairy would come in the night? WTF was I thinking?) and there is water on the floor of the laundry room because the overflowing gutters are packed full on that side of the house and need cleaned and repaired and have for MONTHS and husband hasn't touched them, just like the garage door that's broke, and the light in the bedroom that doesn't work.
And then I get out to my car, and I have a flat tire. And then I go to put air in the tire, and all I hear is **HISS** and so I know there is a leak. So I run home to call work and go get a new tire, and husband has locked me OUT of the house and I have to bang on the door to get in. Then I go change clothes and run to Geneseo to get a new tire.
$100 later, I arrive back at home to find him still sleeping (1pm) and the toilet in the bathroom all clogged up, which it was NOT when I left home.
I think my main train of thought today was "Go to work before I fucking kill you" and my afterthought was "and pick up your fucking messes!"
So. I have no PTO at work, yet I haven't taken a vacation since our wedding last August, so I am pretty cranky there too. My neck is killing me. My friend Anya is a Message Therapist and you can't even begin to imagine how many times I have thought of asking her for a massage. But I feel guilty asking.
So I just called Ariva Day Spa in the Peru Mall, and instantly scheduled an hour long massage for tonight after work. Ahhh.... Ariva. So So So Happy! I want to support local business in Princeton, but I haven't gotten a call back and I am stressed and I need relief sooner than later.
Hopefully, this will make me happier. Or at least a little less on edge. I would hate to go postal.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Stewie B. Goode
I always DVR Family Guy reruns on cable. Tonight I watched another of my favorite episodes, and remembered this clip... which I believe was also in the Movie, Stewie Griffin the Untold Story, which they also broke up into episodes and as a season finale.
Stewie Drunk
But I can't find a clip of when he crashes Brian's Car into the side of the drunken Clam. That's my favorite part.
I also am excited that PeeWee's Playhouse has started 11pm on Cartoon Network. I grew up on PeeWee's playhouse, and watched the movies. I had a pee-wee shirt, a pee-wee Yo-Yo, and my sister had a Pee-Wee's Playhouse Sleeping bag. Ahhh... Those were the days. I look forward to watching it as an adult.
Stewie Drunk
But I can't find a clip of when he crashes Brian's Car into the side of the drunken Clam. That's my favorite part.
I also am excited that PeeWee's Playhouse has started 11pm on Cartoon Network. I grew up on PeeWee's playhouse, and watched the movies. I had a pee-wee shirt, a pee-wee Yo-Yo, and my sister had a Pee-Wee's Playhouse Sleeping bag. Ahhh... Those were the days. I look forward to watching it as an adult.
New Renter/IE Issues Continue
Oh dear IE users, I apologize. Again. More. Doubly. The template is still broken in IE. Ginger has been working on it, but every time she gets it fixed in IE, it is broken in Mozilla Firefox.
My recommendation, scroll down to read in IE, or perhaps read via Feed. Or even better, download Mozilla Firefox and try yourself a new fabulous browser and a tabbed browsing experience.
But no matter what you do, I need you to go visit My new renter, Thought Bubbles- because she is awesome. She is getting married very very soon. She also has a cool template and little aliens, and I feel really bad because my IE template is broken, I am afraid not enough people will go visit her this week. She just got here, so I hope you will visit, and COMMENT and tell her that I sent you.
My recommendation, scroll down to read in IE, or perhaps read via Feed. Or even better, download Mozilla Firefox and try yourself a new fabulous browser and a tabbed browsing experience.
But no matter what you do, I need you to go visit My new renter, Thought Bubbles- because she is awesome. She is getting married very very soon. She also has a cool template and little aliens, and I feel really bad because my IE template is broken, I am afraid not enough people will go visit her this week. She just got here, so I hope you will visit, and COMMENT and tell her that I sent you.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Raspberry Dreams....
Berries are my favorite fruit. And Berries and Ice Cream is my favorite snack, especially late at night! Tonight I made a run to Wal-Mart. My goal? Ice Cream and Mascara. The world is good.I picked up 2 skimpy little microfiber chemises on clearance, a big bucket of Vanilla Ice Cream, Mascara, and some stuff for the upcoming rainbow swap at color-ific swap-o-rama. I didn't leave Wal-Mart till 11:30pm (so much for my go to bed early plan) and When I got home, the first thing I planned on doing before bed was to get myself some ice cream and raspberries. These are the raspberries that Jackson's super-sweet wife Angelique sent home with me Thursday night, and I haven't had a second to eat any yet... not to mention no Ice cream! So as I blog, I enjoy my midnight snack.
And I have the rest of them in the freezer (lying flat on
a pizza pan) so that I can break them into small servings to add to my upcoming midnight snacks... by pouring the precious individually frozen raspberries into little freezer containers tomorrow. I can't wait! And, by the way, this snack tastes even BETTER than it looks! Yum!I really wanted to do more laundry and dishes tonight, but it is midnight and I need to just go to sleep so that I can work on this "early to bed, earli-er to rise" crap.
So Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight.
Pirates of the Caribbean, and the rest of Saturday
Saturday started off okay. I had to walk in the parade for work (volunteermeagan came out for a while again, I thought I had fired her?) and When I got up, I immediately put my good clothes in the washer and then the dryer. I took a shower, got all ready. 20 minutes till the parade started, and I ran down to get my navy blue skirt out of the laundry, Wet. All of it. Still. So I was panicking. I unloaded everything from the dryer and just put about 4 things in. 10 minutes till the parade starts, running around in my company logo polo shirt and my underwear and tennis shoes. Waiting for the skirt. FINALLY the skirt is dry, step into it, and realize the navy of the polo shirt is practically a purple navy and is so horrifically off the color of the navy skirt. Shit. Find a yellow company polo shirt, a tad too small. Stretch my arms inside it in all directions to make it wearable, pop it on hoping my lacy red bra doesn't show through, Anya and Ava show up, I look at her and say "Does this look stupid?" and she laughs and shakes her head "no, it looks fine." and then we go out to watch the beginning of the parade. My parents show up, and just as the "walking section" of the parade starts, I feel my feet sweating in my backless white mules and I am like "I HAVE to change shoes!" and run inside and toss on socks and my other Tennis Shoes. Ahhh.... better. I get outside and walk in the parade for work. It wasn't so bad, but they weren't even all wearing logo clothing! WTF! Wasn't that the rule we were told! Jeezus. So Anya picks me up at the park after the parade and it was hotter than hell!
We went to her house, sat in the air and talked to Brad. Then we went back to the park to pick up lunch. I was so hungry, I ordered my food, went back to Anya's, and opened my styrofoam container. I took the big juicy pork BBQ sandwich in my hands, got my teeth sunk into it for a big bite, and realized, I was eating the bun. DAMN! I had never even thought ONCE about South Beach, while ordering or even when putting it in my mouth. THAT Was evident by my side of potato salad. Shit. Oh well. I wasn't going to waste $6 of food.... this would be my cheat. So I ate a delicious Pork BBW sandwich on a white bun (bad bad bad) and good ol potato salad. And I drank a cold Pepsi.
Then I playted with Ava and changed her diaper while Anya washed bottles and packed up her clothes for the trip to the babysitter for the night. We drove to buda to L's house and dropped of Ava for the night. Then we went back to my place and chatted outside with Evan. I went inside and got changed and then met Anya up at the park for the "man auction." I bought Joe Fritz for $50, 3 hours of labor for $50! Sweet. I need someone to trim the bushes and pull weeds or whatever. The Man Auction raised $1670 for the Community Club. Awesome.
Anya and I went back to my house and chatted for a while outside, then I Evan and I went to Princeton where we met John, Amethyst, and Alex to go see Pirates of the Carribbean Dead Man's Chest. And it was fabulous. The 7pm show was sold out, so we had to buy advance tickets for the 8:15 show. The theater was packed. For the first time in YEARS Evan bought me a pop, popcorn, and Nestle Crumbles (mmm Chocolate) which I managed to pack away before the previews were over. YUM! (South Beach? Where are you?) and that was my supper. It was mighty tasty.
The movie was awesome. My favorite part (and I can tell you this without spoiling anything) was when Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) was being whipped. They tore his shirt off his back and while he was being whipped we got a good shirtless view, front and back. And I was sitting in the theater, and all I could think was "Is it bad that I am totally getting off on him being whipped?" that's wrong right? Can I help it that the look on his face mirrored one of the pleasure/pain of an intense orgasm, and left me all lightheaded and hot? So the entire night I was thinking to myself, Is there like hidden S&M in me or what? And then I saw my sister, and we went to the beer gardens together, and I said to her "Is it wrong that I get off on watching him be whipped?!" and she squealed in delight that she had too. Ahhh.... sisters. We ARE so much alike.
The beer gardens were pretty lame, and my sister made me stand near a dirty girl that I don't like for about 15 minutes, and I continuously wandered around talking to others, but we broke off after one beer and went back to the Dawg House, where we met Angela (who was down for the weekend from the suburbs) and also saw Brad and Anya, and Ryan and Emy.
When the place got packed, we moved out back to the patio. I had some great chats with people I hadn't seen in a while, and then someone flushed the toilet paper holder down the toilet inside so the outside became a bathroom. There were some drunk folks up in there.
Evan showed up with Alex. He was sweating. I wasn't hot at all. But it must have been the beer too. We hung out until about 2:45 and then broke for home. I read my latest Nerd Book Nerd Gone Wild and thoroughly enjoyed all the **explicit sex** and then went to sleep at 5:30am as the sun was creeping up and the birds were singing.
When I woke up today, I started a new book, Widow of the South.... and I am making lunch right now at 2:15. Evan's still passed out.
This week I wil attack South Beach, excercise, and trying to go to sleep at a decent time, with renewed vigor. That's the plan.
We went to her house, sat in the air and talked to Brad. Then we went back to the park to pick up lunch. I was so hungry, I ordered my food, went back to Anya's, and opened my styrofoam container. I took the big juicy pork BBQ sandwich in my hands, got my teeth sunk into it for a big bite, and realized, I was eating the bun. DAMN! I had never even thought ONCE about South Beach, while ordering or even when putting it in my mouth. THAT Was evident by my side of potato salad. Shit. Oh well. I wasn't going to waste $6 of food.... this would be my cheat. So I ate a delicious Pork BBW sandwich on a white bun (bad bad bad) and good ol potato salad. And I drank a cold Pepsi.
Then I playted with Ava and changed her diaper while Anya washed bottles and packed up her clothes for the trip to the babysitter for the night. We drove to buda to L's house and dropped of Ava for the night. Then we went back to my place and chatted outside with Evan. I went inside and got changed and then met Anya up at the park for the "man auction." I bought Joe Fritz for $50, 3 hours of labor for $50! Sweet. I need someone to trim the bushes and pull weeds or whatever. The Man Auction raised $1670 for the Community Club. Awesome.
Anya and I went back to my house and chatted for a while outside, then I Evan and I went to Princeton where we met John, Amethyst, and Alex to go see Pirates of the Carribbean Dead Man's Chest. And it was fabulous. The 7pm show was sold out, so we had to buy advance tickets for the 8:15 show. The theater was packed. For the first time in YEARS Evan bought me a pop, popcorn, and Nestle Crumbles (mmm Chocolate) which I managed to pack away before the previews were over. YUM! (South Beach? Where are you?) and that was my supper. It was mighty tasty.
The movie was awesome. My favorite part (and I can tell you this without spoiling anything) was when Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) was being whipped. They tore his shirt off his back and while he was being whipped we got a good shirtless view, front and back. And I was sitting in the theater, and all I could think was "Is it bad that I am totally getting off on him being whipped?" that's wrong right? Can I help it that the look on his face mirrored one of the pleasure/pain of an intense orgasm, and left me all lightheaded and hot? So the entire night I was thinking to myself, Is there like hidden S&M in me or what? And then I saw my sister, and we went to the beer gardens together, and I said to her "Is it wrong that I get off on watching him be whipped?!" and she squealed in delight that she had too. Ahhh.... sisters. We ARE so much alike.
The beer gardens were pretty lame, and my sister made me stand near a dirty girl that I don't like for about 15 minutes, and I continuously wandered around talking to others, but we broke off after one beer and went back to the Dawg House, where we met Angela (who was down for the weekend from the suburbs) and also saw Brad and Anya, and Ryan and Emy.
When the place got packed, we moved out back to the patio. I had some great chats with people I hadn't seen in a while, and then someone flushed the toilet paper holder down the toilet inside so the outside became a bathroom. There were some drunk folks up in there.
Evan showed up with Alex. He was sweating. I wasn't hot at all. But it must have been the beer too. We hung out until about 2:45 and then broke for home. I read my latest Nerd Book Nerd Gone Wild and thoroughly enjoyed all the **explicit sex** and then went to sleep at 5:30am as the sun was creeping up and the birds were singing.
When I woke up today, I started a new book, Widow of the South.... and I am making lunch right now at 2:15. Evan's still passed out.
This week I wil attack South Beach, excercise, and trying to go to sleep at a decent time, with renewed vigor. That's the plan.
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