1961-1997

Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Where were you?

I have this wipe-on, wipe-off board outside of my office. Everyone else uses theirs to announce meetings, absences, etc, but I mostly use mine for "today in history." I feel like it's important to educate myself and those around me. I use the History Channel website for the info, it's a really good site. Anyway, today's history was that Princess Diana died on this day in 1997. It was jarring on a couple of levels. First of all, it made me remember EXACTLY when I heard that news. I was visiting my parents in New Delhi on summer break before the fall semester of my senior year. We were walking out of the American Club recreation centre, and we ran into someone my dad worked with--he said, "Have you heard? Princess Diana's been in a terrible accident." We went into the restaurant dining room and turned on the news and they were just beginning to report the car crash--because of the time change, it was the middle of the day for us and 2-3am in Paris. We watched for about 3 hours while they got her out of the car, took her to the hospital, pronounced her dead. No one said anything, I remember thinking that somehow it couldn't be possible that she could be killed, and by something so mundane as a car crash at that, like she was superhuman or something. I remembered getting up in the middle of the night in 1981 to watch her wedding. We have a biscuit tin commemorating the event. It just didn't. seem. possible. A week later I was in London for my semester abroad, and the entire city was effed. Just completely emotionally exhausted. The most remarkable thing was how QUIET everyone was. Not mad or sad or anything, just nothing. It knocked the wind out of everyone. Bottom line, it was a defining moment in our generation. Where were you?

Oh. The other thing that threw me for a loop is that it has now been SEVEN years since. Seven years. That just seems unreal.

nothing but a filthy pill popper

this morning I looked down at the pills I had to take:

1 birth control
1 zyban
3 ibruprofen (crrrrrramps)
1 daily vitamin

I felt like an addict. The aging, no-skilled housewife kind.

Whoa. I just had a heavy walk from the cafeteria. I went there to get a little something to tide me over--ended up getting a side of vegetables since my body was crying for anything nutritious after the PARADE of gluttony I embarked upon yesterday. Anyway, I started to walk out and suddenly thought how dramatic it would be if I just fainted on the sidewalk. The guys eating outside would jump up and rush to my side admist the spilled cauliflower and green beans. Plus I would be able to go home early, an added bonus. THIS BIT HAS BEEN EDITED OUT. I thought ALL of this while walking back from the cafeteria.

Whenever I get into an emotional quandary, I will revert to a robotic stoicism: don't think about boys, focus on work. Study for GMAT. Get into grad school. Quit smoking. Work out. It helps me to maintain self-preservation. Actually it helps me to avoid my problems. What was the problem? My brain's so twisted up right now. This post was shit.

The vegetables, however, were really good. I'm always surprised when I like something I desperately hated as a child.

the future soundtrack of america

future soundtrack of america
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

hmm I'm really doing this for two reasons: first, it's my test for uploading images on the blog. but also, this is a really good CD. The first song, by OK Go, is so happy and lovely. Then a few songs later, a great little tune from Deathcab. Then a great Blink 182 (yes, I know) remix. Flaming Lips, Elliot Smith, Nada Surf, Fountains of Wayne, Laura Cantrell, Tom Waits, They Might be Giants, Old 97's, man oh man this CD is good. Okay, that's all.

meetings, pants, and credit cards

It's 10am. So I was just on my way upstairs for a 10am meeting with a manager, and I'm halfway up the stairs when it occurs to me that I didn't see a reminder pop up on my computer. Was this meeting at 10? Or 11? Did I turn off the reminder and the meeting is now? Or have I for some reason completely convinced myself of the wrong time? All morning I have been gearing up for my 10am, my 10am. Then I find myself on the stairs in a complete befuddlement. So I went back downstairs and checked my computer. It's 11am.

So a few weeks ago I was, ahem, having a little rough and tumble with a boy. And in our roughing and tumbling he popped the button off my jeans. What was funny was that he immediately stopped and said, "Did I just break your pants?" Anyway, these are currently my favourite jeans, optic rinse cropped--but they have always been kind of complicated to get in and out of. First there is the aforementioned button. Then a zipper. THEN a snap off to the side. Used to jeans with only two-part access construction, I was at times frustrated with the extra step. But now, with the button gone, it's just a quick unsnap and unzip and I can pee! Or get undressed! Or get some! The possibilities are endless, obviously. So the morale of the story is: you never know what a little rough and tumble might get you.

Lastly, I'd like to give a shout-out to all the good people of the world. Like the waitress at Heaping Bowl, where I stupidly left my credit card last night. She is keeping it safe and sound until I pick it up this afternoon. She'd better not be dripping in fine jewelry and new clothes.

leave me the fuck alone

So the guy I dated for THREE MONTHS last year, who stalked me for FOUR MONTHS, who I got an arrest warrant out on for harassing phone calls, who I blessedly haven't heard from since January, is calling me again. I think. It is 99.9% him. I'm actually in the processing of confirming this. I'm in pissed-off mode about it. You would think he would know me better--I despise being fucked with. I have been known to overcompensate in retribution. oooh! I'm scary!

Along with this, there is the trip to Africa next month. This accounts for this statement I made to a friend in discussing getting together for a drink tomorrow afternoon:

"Yeah, tomorrow afternoon is fine--all I have to do is get a meningitis shot and check on my ex-boyfriend's arrest warrant."

I can't make this stuff up, folks.

synapses are misfiring

It is raining with a vengeance here. Does not bode well for my volleyball game apres work. Yikes, everytime I look out the window it scares me how dark and ominous everything looks outside: see? That big yellow blob is totally coming my way.

So K got all fancy with her blog with photos and all. I hate her.

I bought a firepit last night--actually looking forward to assembling it over the weekend, and then, uh, starting a fire. In the pit.

On another note, having been going absolutely mad with new music lately. I think it's because I actually have a good stereo in the car for once. Now, I'm basically that asshole that pulls up next to you at stopped intersections with bass blaring. Except it's to good music. The best buys lately have been:

Postal Service
Future Soundtrack for America
Killers

Still undecided on these:

Wilco
Jem (may be the poor man's Dido)
Snow Patrol

I could do links to all these, but I just don't feel like it. I think I'm going to pop some popcorn. And curl up on the sofa and watch a movie and oh wait I'm still at work shit.

Well I can still make the popcorn.

tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick

Today has been unbelievably painful. Since I last wrote you, I have:

• finished up the recommendation I was working on
• met with manager to close it out
• been to the bathroom about 900 times
• cleaned my desk, guest table, mouse padtablethingy, windowsills, and THE PHONE (easily the nastiest part of all, and I only have my own ears to blame ew) with antibacterial wipes
• cleaned out all my temporary internet folders and cookies
• reorganized my pc desktop
• wandered in and out of various offices, looking for a chat, and finding none
• whittled down my inbox to three emails

It's 5:19.

I can't even think of a good title.

I despise Friday afternoons. Everyone else seems to have gone home, except all the effers around me. No one's on IM, no emails coming, zip. I hate it. I have 2 more hours to go.

I'm all about my bed lately--bought a new duvet cover last week. Was looking for plain white, but they are nowhere to be found. So I got a white one with ruched layers on it--it actually looks really classy, like a grown-up bed. So the cartoony butterfly sheets had to go. Bought a set of crisp solid khakis yesterday, washed them last night, put them in the dryer this AM. So they should be ready tonight. My Friday night: putting new sheets on the bed. Actually, I will probably shoot a couple of games of pool with Ali apres work. TWO HOURS. Anyway, back to duvet covers: for some inexplicable reason, they cost easily 2 to 4 times the cost of a duvet. !!! How does that possibly make sense, surely duvets are more costly to make, what with the feathers/stuffing/etc. But no, the POCKET that houses them is where the money is at. It's a complete conspiracy by the bedding industry. Hey kid, try this line of duvet for free. Like that, don't ya? What, you want a cover now? Hmm, that's going to cost you . . . come over here, let's talk.

I have one hour and 45 minutes left. Pathetic. I feel like this.

I've had 2 mobile calls in the last 2 minutes--I've jumped both times at the ring. So I'm feeling popular, but twitchy.

John and Ann

I was thinking this morning about one of my favourite stories about my parents. They are in their 34th year of marriage (35 in November) and they live in Ireland. Retired. They travel a lot. My father is fairly serious/responsible/organized/a bit of a stiff--to be fair, though, he has chilled out A LOT since retirement. My mother is goofy/silly/imaginative/disorganized/flaky at times, ie; she and my father are good ying and yang for each other. My mother also has a rather twisted sense of humour, which helps to explains the following story:

My parents are reading the paper in the sunroom of their house in Ireland. My mother looks out into the garden and says, "John, we should get a dog." My father flips back a corner of his newspaper and says, "A dog? But we travel so much, what would we do with it while we were away?" My mother replies: "Oh, well, we can just kill it, bury it in the yard, and get another one when we get back." My father doesn't miss a beat, just looks out the window and says, "We're going to need a bigger yard."

And this is what I like to think marriage is all about.

this is fact not fiction for the first time in years

Sorry, still on the deathcab obsession. Actually bought another one this weekend. . . and it's not as good as Transatlanticism. I think. Need to listen to it some more before I say anything too definitive.

Anyway, that's not what I want to blog about. Yesterday evening was amazing, weather-wise. A patio was definitely in order, so I was delighted when the crew came together as K, M.lo, B, Liz, and Jean. We sat around, drinking beers and eating messy food, shooting the shit about bands and high school and getting messed up. Sun went down, plates were cleared, the air amazingly still retaining a tinge of warmth. More stories, a couple of yawns. A couple more, the bill. Walking back to our cars together, hugs all round. What a great night.

Non-sequitur: I walked into my office this AM, and my lone desk plant was Droopy McDrooperson of the Highland McDroops. So I watered her, and for the last hour am watching her magically revive. Some moments are rather dramatic, like a large leaf just MOVING UPWARD SUDDENLY. Plants are amazing. Life is amazing! I'm gay!

classic dork

My sister (the one who lives in Chicago) has been going through a lot of sheee-at lately. Consequently, she has been on my mind a lot and we have been talking a lot more frequently, and I daresay becoming even closer because of it. Yesterday I noticed she was not on IM at all, and by the end of the day I was getting a little worried. Was she at work? Was she at home? The hospital? A ditch? I called her at the office. No answer. Shit. I called her mobile. No answer. Double shit. I left message, saying I was worried and to please call. A couple of hours later, I got this email:


Subject: i'm FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE

actually i'm not i'm in a huge snit
my brand spanking month old finally bought with hard earned money god
forsaken hunk of junk DVD player completely, inexplicably, and suddenly
DIED on me last night
after trying in vain to figure out what happened, i wept in a fetal ball on
my floor the rest of the night, this DVD player metaphorically becoming my
entire dysfunctional life where nothing works effectively and i can't
figure out why not
this, after a decent night out after work where i wasn't, for once, selling
goddamn containers and it was very anti-climactic and i went to bed all
puffy-eyed and woke up feeling very old
now in my "spare" time i have to lug this defunct piece of equipment
several blocks to the best buy and stage an ann quin-style demonstration
for my money or value back
on top of that it's been a ball busting last couple of days at work and i
basically did not feel like IMing, and when you called i was taking a late
lunch b/c the ball busting only subsided after 2pm

*sniff*
Claire
x6634

So she's okay. And now I have a classic email to boot.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't such a jetsetter.

I'm going to visit my sister in September. This is the one who is in the Peace Corps. I'm very excited as I have never been to Africa. My coworkers think I am insane in that my idea of a vacation requires me to have multiple vaccinations and prescribed medication in order to avoid DEATH while I am there. But on the other hand, their idea of holiday spots are places like Panama Beach and shit, so I can be insane. They can be trashy. Ooh that was mean.

Anyway, today I found out that one of the best shows of the year is going to happen while I am en route to my Malian destination. Franz, the Killas, Delays, and Scissor Sisters are going to play. I'm really disappointed that I am going to miss it.

But frankly, I'd rather go to fucking Africa. So basically I just need to shut the hell up.

Ok, I'm doing that now.

I'm retarded.

He called. Tuesday night, in fact. I walked around the rest of the night with a shit-eating grin on my face.

this effing sucks

I'm being such a girl.

Had a date last Saturday with very cool guy. Best date I have had in a while, mostly due to fact that I felt like we were just really good friends on the date and then oh he was lovely to kiss as well. And now it is Tuesday at 6p, and I am starting to feel anxious that I haven't heard from him yet. Which is cruel irony, given that I would be like oooh, hmm, er. . . if I HAD heard from him by now. But the twilight is beginning to fade, thus the creeping levels of anxiety. Let's weigh the goods and bads, shall we? Such fun!

good: called me 3 times last week before date to talk and chat and whatnot
bad: this was before the date
good: borrowed a CD to listen to (has to effing give it back, right?)
bad: said, "I'll see you later" as part of his goodbye, and no future plans were made
good: I didn't do anything I regret
bad: well, lookit that! I can't think of another bad. And what a good, uh, good to end it on!

Bottom line is, will try to take it not to personally if nothing doing. Dating is bloody exhausting. I'd like to skip straight to cheating on my husband, please.

And lastly: on an unrelated note, you cannot deny that this post is rather Christmas-y.

bad idea jeans

Went out with B last night to karaoke. Last week we showed up waaay too early, so we thought we'd be clever this time and go to the Joyce beforehand for a couple of warm-up pints. They were just finishing up trivia when we got there and it was VERY LOUD. This drunk couple (with 4 year old son in tow at 10pm nice) stumbles up to us and says, "Name 5 shuttle missions in NASA history--we need help." I almost didn't know where to begin, but decided to avoid a possible confrontation by feebly offering up, "Um, Apollo?" And the drunk guy yells at me, "That was a rocket, not a SHHHHHHUTTLE!!" Asshole! I envisioned them crashing their car in a ditch, not an unrealistic scenario--but then felt bad because of the kid. He has no idea what's going on, poor guy.

Shit. Any segueway from this seems shallow. Okay, Moms and Dads: don't drink and drive. Everybody else, it's ok.

Anyway, we showed up at karaoke and it was PACKED. But not cool packed. Like a lot of boys in visors and low-slung shorts. As B would say, a sausage factory. People were singing shit like I Touch Myself. Not good. B wasn't pleased at the girl/guy ratio. But he's a quantitative thinker. I, being qualitative, wasn't thrilled either. But touting my skills as a wingwoman, I got B talking to this cute girl. . . who quickly mentions her boyfriend of 4 years, whereupon B begins kicking me under the table. I thought she was cool, though--new to town, no friends etc. She could hang with us, make new friends, I like doing shit like that. I'm a giver.

We moved outside, where an impromptu impression session broke out. Drunk Stu did the worst. Sean Connery. ever. It was so bad, I made B do Christopher Walken again so I could wash the horror out of my brain. I wasn't going to, but I got so caught up that I unleashed my Jimmy Stewart. Tight, polite smiles. Crickets chirping. Fuckers.

Went home too late, got up too late, arrived at work too late. But then boss says she's leaving half-day! Which means I can skate pretty early too! And it's Friday! And tonight is K's birthday bash! And my car is ready to be picked up! And I have a date tomorrow!

In all seriousness, I'm a very lucky girl. Thanks, God! You're the best!

FAAAAARKLE!

Last night K hosted a cook-out, replete with post-dinner Farkle. As usual (this was the second time I had played), I descended rather rapidly into BIG MONEY rolls, eschewing solid-but-minor scores in lieu of THE BIG PAYOFF. And as usual, the strategy backfired. I stumbled into third place. Or fourth. Eff it, I lost. Had to leave rather early, due to asscrack thing I had to be at work for this morning. Driving at pre-dawn hours doesn't seem weird, until you see the sky lightening into pinks and purples and you remember that it's not nighttime after all but SUNRISE. I also found it weird that I was INCAPABLE of rising before the sun as a child/adolescent/college/young 20s person, but now--although I do not relish it--it's not too difficult.

But back to last night. I get home, and I'm putting away the things I brought for the cookout. I open up the cupboard for my spices and there is a giant COCKROACH who screams, "Eeep!" at the sight of me and scurries back behind onion salt. I FLIP and scream, "Eeep!" before slamming the door shut. Ten minutes later, the kitchen is foggy with the amount of insecticide that I have sprayed around every crevice/crack/etc. I debated spraying around dishes and such but then decided fuck it and carefully sprayed around. NOTE: don't eat at my house any time soon. Just when I was thinking that he was a) dead, or b) dying, or c) neither, but I would have to deal with him later, HE APPEARED. He tried to crawl across the backsplash of the sink, but I was ready for him. I drowned him in Raid, and he proceeded to twitch belly-up for SEVEN MINUTES. I'm not exaggerating, it took him an extraordinarly long time to die. While he was dying, I read the can which said things like KILLS INSTANTLY! and INSTANT DEATH! on it. Lies. All of a sudden, a smaller roach appears next to him! As if it was his son saying, "Dad? Dad? What's wrong? What. . . . NOOOOOO!!!" He charged me, but I tagged him too. Death was impending, but he limped into a crack in between the dishwasher and shelving. I sprayed in there for a good 20 seconds, so I'm pretty sure he's gone.

After all the excitement died down, I hunted around with the can and a flashlight, trying to flush out any more invaders. Then I went to bed, coughing on the insecticide fumes. I was still smelling them this morning.

I also think I may have caused myself some permanent brain damage.

I think there's something wrong with my brrrrrrrraaaaaaaiiiiiinnnnnn

I've felt like complete poo lately. Think it is an amalgamation of things, including:

1. excessive drinking and smoking
2. uneven sleep patterns
3. increased caffeine intake
4. decreased vegetable intake
5. fairly low levels of physical activity

So what am I doing about it? Basically the opposite of #1-5. Well, I'm trying. I went to the farmer's market yesterday, picked up loads of lovely veg. Sleep is no problem, can get back on track with that. Asked doc for another scrip for Zyban; worked pretty well for me last year, hopefully will make a real go of it this time. Physical activity might be trickier this week: there are no softball games, and tonight is trivia night. And exercising MY BRAIN doesn't count. K might have a Farkle night tomorrow night. And I can't miss Farkle! Thursday I should definitely work out. Definitely. Friday is K's birthday drunkfest. I wager I'm going to do really poorly with #1. Saturday I think I have a date! We may go bowling. Here is a conversation about him I had recently with a friend:

me: "Well, I met this really cool guy this weekend."
friend: "What's his name?"
me: "Blake."

friend: "Blaine? BLAINE? You're dating a guy named BLAINE? That's not a name, that's a major appliance!"

me: "Blake, you freak, not Blaine. Quit Pretty in Pinking me, you ass."
friend: "Oh."

We may go bowling, not sure. All I do know is that I act like a complete MORON around him. Yikes. More on that--hopefully--later.

I just said "we may go bowling" twice. Not one of my finer posts, you will agree.

You will note, however, that I began by declaring that I felt like POOOOOOO

ps. props out to C for the post title, a little kickback to KITH

pps. I'm just full of effing links today