It's not that bad here.

It's not that bad here.
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

It's cold here, but not cold enough for snow. Or to make things out of snow, like a big eff you to Mother Nature. I think it's pretty well done, though.

hey I'm thankful too

K has a good idea that I am now going to rip off.

The Emotional
My sister is in town
I'm going to be with a lot of friends in the next four days
My family is loving and supportive

The Environmental
I have a good house with heat and pets and shit
I have a great car that is fast yet safe
I just got a badass laptop that I will be fiddling with all weekend
Have a little bit of money to play with
I have a job that provides for all of the above and is interesting and shit

The Mental
I'm feeling smarter by taking the GMAT classes
I have a good sense of self-worth, capability, and desire

The Physical
I am bigger lately, BUT! I have a plan to lose weight
My teeth are a little whiter after using the strips
My hair is really glossy and cool since I dyed it last night

Thanks, God! You're the best. MWAH!
love, el.

shilly shill mcshill

god my sister is hyper. WHY HAVEN'T YOU POSTED???? IT'S BEEN 16 DAYSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!! SCREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

just shut the hell up. I'll get to it when I get to it. biz.

Vote for the guy on the left, listen to music by the guy on the right

I lied. One more thing. Fingers crossed.

Vote for the guy on the left, listen to music by the guy on the right
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Happy Halloween (not really)

Happy Halloween
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Okay, so it's a little late. But I haven't blogged in over a month, so who's to call me on a little holiday belatedness, hmmmm? HMMM? THAT'S RIGHT, NO ONE!!!!!

Anyway, this wasn't even taken on Halloween, but I don't have those pics yet. But it's in the spirit, so close enough. This is, in fact, my favourite photo from my trip to Mali--the man on the left is the schoolteacher in Siby. We found the hats hanging from the ceiling (kids' craft project I guess) and put them on for fun. I can't remember why I am scowling, maybe I thought that was more witchy?

ANYWAY. Too much to catch up on. No point. Getting together online photo albums from Afrika. Will try to post more often.

That's all you get for now.

so I'm back.

I actually got back last Tuesday, almost a week ago. But I've been busy, getting back into work and being uproariously drunk all weekend. Seriously, I think I may have a problem. I am going to have to chill out a bit (read: dry out). At least I have not been smoking, the one thing I am still clinging to that I am proud about. The drinking, though, hmm becoming increasingly less cool. It's my next area of focus in Eleanor Improvement.

Africa was amazing. I'll write about it when I can show you pictures too.

For your political humour enjoyment, here is a link to a hilarious Will-Ferrell-as-George-W spot. Always good for a laugh.

More later, kids: Mama's got to work.

Never say goodbye

This will be my last post for a while. As you well know, I am off for Africa tomorrow. I will be gone for a week and a half. I hope you are okay while I am gone.

It's 3pm on a Friday afternoon, the day before my vacation. Where do you think my brain is? Not here. I decided I needed a cup of coffee, so I ambled down to the breakroom to find. . . no coffee. Actually, there were tiny amounts in two pots, but someone had turned off the warmers so both were ice cold. If they had been on, I probably would have combined the two pots to scrape out a cup. I decide that I want flavoured coffee--my company buys that shit. I think I'm the only one who uses it. I start rummaging through, looking for a decaf version, and finally decide to dump the box out and organize the flavours. Again, it's 3pm on a Friday, the day before my vacation. Here is a sampling of the coffees:

1. Bananas Foster (ew)
2. Southern Pecan
3. Southern Pecan Delight (no idea what could be the difference)
4. Jamaican Me Crazy (sigh)
5. Sinful Delight (tempted to brew this just to see)

But no decaf. I pull all the packets out of the box, and the VERY last one is: Hazlenut Decaf. I actually said "Yay!" out loud. I pulled out a filter, opened the bag, and took a sniff before I poured it in. I hope it tastes a lot better than it smells. I'll let you know.

I said I wouldn't

Originally uploaded by smelly_.

but I can't help it!! At left is where I will be SUNDAY. Yeeeeeeeee!

miss me?

You might think that since I have not blogged in an ENTIRE WEEK, I might have been out of town. Or dead in a ditch. Or my fingers fell off. But NO! I am just incredibly slack. Really, I don't know where the time went. It was Labour Day weekend. Basically it went like this:

• Friday: blotto
• Saturday: recovered from Friday's blotto
• Sunday: blotto
• Monday: recovered from Sunday's blotto

As you can see, it was an exciting time. I know you wish you were me. That's natural. The only thing that really pleased me about the long weekend is that NOT ONCE was I tempted to have a cigarette. That was a big deal to me, to be in bars and around smokers, and not feel the urge. Today makes Day 8. I feel pretty confident about this.

In two days, TWO DAYS, I leave for Africa. Actually, I leave for Paris. But then Africa. I am starting to feel the buzz of excitement growing in my belly. I'm discouraging its growth, because once it takes over, work is out the window. I only have today and tomorrow to go. THEN AFRICA. ooh, I'm going to have to change subjects, my legs are starting to wiggle.

I got up this morning at 5:30am. I don't enjoy doing this. The first thing that I noticed was that NPR was playing some crazy shit at 5:30am. It was like the DJ had his 9-year old son practicing the trumpet on air with two sick dogs in the background howling. I listened to it for about 3.72 seconds before slapping it off. It is so dark at 5:30am. I turned on the TV and was BLINDED by the light it produced. It seriously hurt. Despite this literally rude awakening, I was dressed and decent and out of the house by 6:04am. Made two stops on the way, the first at Starbucks to buy a cup of coffee the size of my head, and then to Chik-fil-a to get eggs and sausage for my brek. Coffee: good idea (albeit a little jittery). Eggs and sausage: bad idea (sitting like a stone in my tum).

ok, off to a mtng.

Last night I had a dream

K hearts that opening, I know. But anyway, last night I dreamt that I kept picking up lit cigarettes and taking a couple of puffs before being like, "Wait, I quit. Shit!" and stubbing them out. I woke up this morning and for a few bleary moments had to figure out if I had really smoked or not. Dreams aside, it's going really well. I went to Manuel's last night, drank some beers, and had absolutely no desire to smoke. Didn't even think about it. Not saying that I won't be tempted ever, but at least for now all is A-OK.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Hey, speaking of Manuel's, I didn't know that he recently died--last month. RIP.

nasty fucking shit

nasty fucking shit
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Last night was my last smoking night.

In order to seal the deal, I smoked myself silly. The objective was to make myself sick on them so that I wouldn't want one anytime soon, get me over the hump, etc. I succeeded. I gagged about 900 times as I smoked 15 cigarettes in 3.5 hours. My head hurt, my throat burned, I kept almost passing out, hallucinations and delirium. It was BAD. I talked to my last cigarette, told it how much I hated it, how they were killing me, and that I didn't need them anymore.

This morning I still feel like shit. Head/throat/and abdomen for some reason. Wish me luck.

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

Album of the Year

I know, it's a bold claim, it being July and all (well practically August but still), but I am in love. With an album. The album. It makes me feel funny. It makes my stomach flutter. It makes my eyes close. It makes my body full. And the worst of it is, it's old news--record has been out for a while now. But eff it, better late than never.

Since I can't post pics (and yes, I know it's possible but I can't download the software on this computer), you will need to click here to find out what the eff I am talking about.

You should leave your house immediately, go to the nearest music store, and pay any amount of money for this album.

You will not regret it.

So don't touch me, 'cause I'm electric

And if touch me, you'll get SHOCKED (shocked shocked shocked)
 
Last night was karaoke.  I hadn't been in a while, so I gave my friend Brendan a call KNOWING he would be there.  He sounded really pleased that I wanted to come up, and I realized later that I don't know who he would have hung out with if I hadn't been there.  Our circle of pals are just not god-fearing karaoke folk.  Bren opened with his standard Eyes Without a Face by Mr. Idol--my friend Rob sitting next to me pointed out that he kind of sounds like Bill Murray ala SNL lounge singer, and he's right.  I sang Don't Get Me Wrong by le Pretenders, which is fast becoming my signature song.  I like it so.  I kind of wish I would have more energy up there; it's weird, sometimes I get so nervous up there my legs start shaking.  I mean it's effing KARAOKE, and I did theatre for almost 20 years.  Freak.
 
On another note, going out with your guy friend alone probably backfires on the whole wingman theory.

SURPRISE

I went out last night after all.  We won second prize in trivia.  My contributions included identifying the Hispanola as the ship in Treasure Island, that Nolan Ryan had the most career walks, and remembering the cast of Sphere--the last particularly remarkable since I never saw that piece of shit.  It was fun, and I am glad I went.  Got home reasonably earlier, ate a small bite of din, and went to bed.  All in all, a fairly balanced night.
 
I'm going to make it after all!!!!

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink

I'm soooooo tired, my mind is on the blink.  Hmm, realizing that I haven't listened to that album in a really long time.  No idea where it is.
 
Anyway, the point is that I am very tired.  This is because I have been running around like a madman for about 2.5 weeks now, and on top of that, socializing way too much.  But it's Summer!  So many invites and things to do.  Like tonight, for example, is trivia night.  But I should forgo it, go home and be sensible.  Jury's still out.  Last night was softball, and tomorrow night is softball.  Definitely nothing on Thursday night.  But then it's FRIDAY and the whole sordid lot of debauchery starts all over again.  And while I am having a good time, it's not very healthy, and I just feel weary a lot.  Tired and run-down.  But it's fun.  But tiring.
 
I'm going to have to further weigh the pros and cons and get back to you.

The lowdown on the DL in the ATL

First and foremost, Subway salads SUUUUUUUUCK.  I'm eating one now, and I am not having a good time.  It's watery and flavourless and just all-around crap.   But I was completely starving and I figured this would be better than any other junky shit I would cook up.  Hmm that bite just had a banana pepper in it--salad taste just improved 9000%.
 
So I had my dad in town over the weekend.  It was cool, and I very much enjoy having him around, but the emotionally stunted part of me begins to nic and DT out late night and I found myself ducking out not once, but twice to meet my smoky and drunky friends.  It made me feel like shit, but I did it anyway.  What is my problem?  I'm so effing lame.
 
Anyway, dropped my pop off at the airport and cried like a baby all the way back to the car.  Made the ditching him twice make me feel even more guilty.  Sometimes I think I may be a mental masochist.
 
So I ran into a boy I met a couple of years ago this weekend.  He is very nice and handsome and fun to hang out with.  I made out with him once when on a break with Kev, then got back together and never called him.  Because I am an asshole.  What, how could I be a bigger asshole?  Why, I'll tell you!  He has a kid.  And this is perhaps the most effective Eleanor-repellant around.  Because instead of being a fucking dick and ditching his responsibility, he owned up to his actions and has an active, mature role in his child's life.  And the fucking dick option frightens me less.  I don't know what to do, I had a really good time with him--but have since noticed that I have already thought up 83 reasons why it probably won't work.  K pointed out how difficult it must be for a single parent to date successfully.  So true.  I'm living proof.  God!  Why am I such a jerk?  Why do you even read this shit?

 

finding things in the strangest places

I'm having a bad day.  Last night I picked up my father at the airport, and his plane was late, and I didn't eat and was getting progressively more tired.  Anyway, we are almost home when my mobile rings twice in a row, odd given the hour.  Then a minute later the "check engine" light comes on.  In my brand.  new.  car.  Got home and pulled out the manual, couldn't find a reason why it came on, pissed because I have had the car for a FUCKING WEEK.  One week.  Check the missed calls on the mobile; it's some number I don't recognize.  Then my home phone rings; again, weird because it's about 11:40pm.  Caller ID says it is the same number from my mobile.  I pick it up, say hello, and there is a good 4-5 second pause before the caller hangs up.  But I know the call is meant for me because of the mobile phone calls.  We look up the area code:  Pontiac, Michigan.  The only fucker I know that is from Michigan is Tom, ex-boyfriend of 3 months last year that went freaky on me and stalked me for over four months.  I finally filed a complaint against him and it went to court and the judge signed an arrest warrant on the basis of harrassment.  I hadn't heard from him since January (maybe, I had a weird call in March/April once), and JUST YESTERDAY I was thinking maybe I should go to the sherriff's office to have the warrant, what, deactivated?  I don't know, but figured it had been long enough to drop it.  And then last night.  Plus the car fucking up just putting a glaze of shit over everything.  Not surprisingly, had fitful and unhappy dreams.  I just want it to be over.  I just want not to feel scared anymore.  I want the fist of nausea in my stomach thinking about that situation all over again to go away.  I want a man to be angry about this and protect me.  And I don't mean my dad, although I know he would do his best.  He was being really sweet to me this morning, and I felt like shit that I didn't buy any groceries or clean up the house.
 
Anyway, my HR colleague from Puerto Rico calls this morning about rescheduling a meeting, and I point out that the resked might be a blessing in disguise because of some resources that would be available to us later.  And she says, in her lovely heavy Puerto Rican accent, "You seeee?  Everything has a purrrpose."
 
And I said, "Yes, it does.  Yes, it does."  Now I just have to figure out what it is.
 
postscript:  Well, car dealership just called.  They want me to turn it in tonight, should have everything done by noon tomorrow.  They are going to loan me a Jetta.  Ew.  Sorry to all you Jetta drivers out there, but if you had a new car, you'd be pissed too.

seriously, ya'll

I've had this blog for a while now, but I still don't know in what direction I want to take it.  Up until now, it's been pretty sanitized.  The primary reason for this is that if I start to talk shit about people or post ahem the intimate details of my hedonistic ways, I will undoubtedly eff up,  delightfully drunk and slobbery one night and in a moment of poor judgment refer someone I really don't want to read all about my shizz to my. . . shizz.  On the other hand, it hasn't happened yet.  Not to mention that those events even occurring require quite a large amount of ego on my part, as though hordes of people are lining up outside the proverbial speakeasy to get access to MY BLOG.  Hmm.  That being said, I think I'm going in a different direction with this.
 
I kissed a married man this weekend.  I'm not proud of it, but it happened and that's that.  Actually, it's not.  We messed around, but no sex.  He said he wanted to see me again and asked for my number.  And I effing gave it to him.  It was 5am.  I was drunk.  Fuck!  I thought about this a lot yesterday, as I shuffled around the house in my robe all day.  I weighed the pros and cons, and obviously cons have it.  The pros are few, but I'll mention them anyway.  He is hot.  And funny.  And we get along extraordinarily well.  There is something undeniably romantic about a clandestine affair, bursting with behind the scenes passion and secret encounters.  That's pretty much it for the pro category.  Cons, hello so unbelievably obvious I won't bore you.  Basically, I boiled it down to this.  Not taking his call or returning any messages.  Hoping my passive-aggressive rejection will be enough for him and preclude the need to say something like this:
 
"I fucked up the other night, and I regret what we did.  If I was your wife, I would be devastated, and as a self-respecting woman I refuse to injure another woman any further.  Do not contact me again."
 
I still feel like shit.  I wonder what his wife was doing at the time he was kissing me.  I wonder if he smelled like my perfume when he got home.  I wonder if she knows or suspects.  They don't have any kids, which shouldn't but does make me feel well at least not any worse about it.
 
Well, if it wasn't definitive before, it is now:  I'm a harlot.

No time for the bullshit

First of all, for my WHOA!  Blogger totally changed up a lot of shit, now I have all these fonts and options and shit.  Hmm, can't let this waylay me from my post, since I have now 7 minutes to complete.
 
A)  For my misguided friends who can't stop partying, I offer you this advice.  Having said that, I will admit that I am always the one to quote Shaw with "We can sleep when we are dead."
 
B)  I got my car this week.  I love it.  I call it my baby.  Out loud.  I am very happy, so much so that I feel drugged because of the amounts of seratonin that have been released into my brain over the last couple of days.  Right now, I hear her calling to me from the parking lot:  "Drive me, driiiiiiive meeeee."  Here is what she looks like, but dark grey.
 
Shit, have run out of time.  More lata.
 
FRIDAY!

I hate myself for loving me.

I'm the worst--when people don't update their blogs, I feel let down. I think things like, "Don't they realize how bored and procrastinatey I am today? I need filler!" But then I go and ignore my own blog for 800 days. But you know what? Eat it. I'm not here for you, effers. I'll update my blog when I am good and ready. GOOD AND READY!

And that is we in the biz call a double standard.

Paging Dr. Jung. Dr. Jung, please come to Eleanor's brain. Thank you.

Last night I had a dream that I was driving on a high mountain road with my dad, and I looked over the edge and saw someone intentionally drive their car into a body of water in order to murder their family. I freaked out and said to my dad, what should we do? And he was like, there's nothing we can do, we're too far away to be able to save them or raise an alarm. But then my dream zoomed in on the pond, and the family members that the bad guy was trying to kill were climbing out of the water and turning into horrible monstrous creatures with long, pointy teeth. And I knew that they were going to get him, and I felt like it was deserved.

??????

And no my first name ain't baby.

So I think I'm kind of nasty. Definitely capable of some grossness. But then I read K's shizz and suddenly I feel positively virginal. If you think you can handle it, click here.

breakroom musings

I was just in the breakroom, popping some popcorn for a midafternoon snack. Above the mini-fridge, someone stuck a notice that says, "Remember: Did you put your food into the fridge a week ago? Is that why it is smelling now?" My first judgement was: passive-agressive muthafuckas! Just write, "Get your nasty shit out of the fridge because it be stinking it up!" But upon closer reflection, I know that there are a lot of international people working in that area, and that it is entirely possible that the notice was written on the ESL tip, what with the word choice and syntax and all. In fact, the more I think about it, it seems likely. I have my bets on this German girl I pass often in the hall. And then the passive-aggressiveness can be forgiven, for I am accepting of all types of intercultural communication techniques.

I also had time to clean out my Nalgene bottle, which had been positively stankified by water left in there since Friday. I drank like half of it and then thought, "What's that smell?" It was swampy. I thought I was going to throw up. My stomach did do topsy-turvy growlies about a hour later, but admittedly it could have been psychosomatic.

AND LASTLY. I burned the popcorn. It was weird, normally I set it for 3:33 and it still isn't even done when the time is out. So I put it on 4 mins and at 3:30 it was burning. I kind of like it that way, though, so what do I do? Open the bag and promptly place a burned ass piece in my mouth. It literally SIZZLES my saliva and begins to disintegrate at such a rapid rate that I can't get it out of my mouth quickly enough. I just leant over the trash bin and went ahthhhhh until most of it slithered out. It kind of grossed me out.

But not enough to stop me from eating the rest of the bag!

I'm only happy when it rains

er, not really--but I do like the sound of RUMBLING THUNDER IN THE DISTANCE. We're on day 283 of rain here in the ATL, but I really don't mind so much. As long as my basement doesn't flood. This week it is particularly appreciated, because I have 900 things to do and if the weather was nice, I would procrastinate and not do them.

Today at lunch I went to Sam's, primarily to buy dog and cat food. Once there, however, I was quickly sucked into the vortex of BUYING SHIT I DON'T NEED, a common reaction to crossing the threshold of the store. I am now two pairs of shoes richer, ones like these and ones like these. . .

well, I just realized I never published this post because I couldn't find a pic of the shoes. They are dark blue with silver racing stripes. I guess I started this post on Wednesday. Now it is Tuesday. I'm already back from DC. Everything seems pointless now.

Walking through the park and reminiscing. . .

Okay, so there was no walking in parks involved. But I WAS reminiscing. About my friend Beau from college. He changed his name a few years back to Byron, but I will always know him as Beau. That kid and I, we have had some good times. I just emailed him a few mins ago to say hi and after I sent it, a flood of memories about him came, er, flooding back.

We drove from Austin to Boston once. Key memories of this trip have to do with Beau burning his nostril hairs and eyeballs with a faulty lighter, and me eating my weight in beef jerky. I didn't say it was pretty.

These ovaries were made for ticking.

My friend Nicole from ex-work had a baby this past weekend. Here is a picture of him. I think he looks strangely calm for only being 3 days old. I imagine I was FREAKING OUT at that age. He also has extraordinarily long fingas and is that a GANG SIGN??? Hard to tell with kids these days.

Anyway, enough about the kid. What about me? Nicole and I are around the same age, and when she started at ex-work she had just gotten engaged. So over the last five years she got hitched and had a baby. I can't even keep my house clean or date anyone good.

Yesterday it stormed all day, so I used it as yet ANOTHER EXCUSE to not tidy my house. At this point I just need to install a giant drain and power-hose everything. Due to all the thunder crashing, Tallulah was mighty freaked out, her body chattering around like a black, hairy metronome. Being the supportive parent that I am, I kept yelling things like, "Get out of the way, I can't see the telly!" And watch telly I did: saw Your Friends and Neighbors, Velvet Goldmine, Finding Nemo, Elephant, and The Good Girl. All yesterday. All while lying prone on the sofa. Amidst all the dust. That's easily 10 hours of lazed assiness. God.

FLAIRS!

Today I am wearing snappy red sneaks that I got for $6 at Target last year. I just don't wear them enough, really. The only thing is that the laces are extraordinarily long; they actually flop about when I walk. So all day I have been thinking about that Strangers With Candy episode where all the cool kids have Flairs, the really expensive sneaker with ridiculously long laces. And everytime they show them, this little hiphop tune plays. I love that show.

Speaking of, Curb's second season is out on DVD. Must purchase. Speaking of, Badfingaaaaa! The man with the midas touCHHHHH!

um, yum.

Just in crappy cafeteria, getting crappy food for a crappy price, when I came upon this. Thought what the hell, let's give it a go. Result? Delicious! Highly recommended.

Thanks, Pop!

My dad is retired, so on a typical day he has these sorts of things to do:
--pop into the garden for some planting or weeding
--pop down to the rubgy club to watch the game
--pop round to the pub for a pint
so he does a lot of popping--but FAR AND AWAY my father's favourite activity is to send me shitloads of emails with jokes, (more often than not) "jokes", internet warnings that always turn out to be hoaxes, links to stories on various news servers, forwards to clever letters or emails that he has sent others, requests for me to run errands or complete some kind of transactions, chain mails (chain mails! the man is 68), political manifestos, those fucking emails that have a million blinking smiley faces and tell me to have a great day, his general musings on the day (almost always weather-centric), and--beloved and classic--interminable rants about the United States Postal Service. Most of the time I scan through, picking out the important stuff and trying not to get pissed at the extensive volume of other shit.

Today, however, my dad sent me something really cool. It's a link to a HondaUK commercial that is really fascinating, both in viewing and the background information as well. Here is the link, I found it fastest to save the zip file to my desktop and open from there. Below is the text from my dad's email that provides more info re; this.

Unbelievable!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Take a couple of minutes to watch a clever commercial
...BUT DO READ THIS FIRST BEFORE YOU CLICK ON THE LINK.

There are no computer graphics or digital tricks in the film. Everything you see really happened in real time exactly as you see it.

The film took 606 takes. On the first 605 takes, something, usually very minor, didn't work. They would then have to set the whole thing up again.

The film cost six million dollars and took three months to complete,
including a full engineering sequence.

In addition, it's two minutes long so every time Honda airs the film on British television, they're shelling out enough dough to keep any one of us in clover for a lifetime. However, it is fast becoming the most down loaded advertisement in Internet history. Honda executives figure the ad will soon pay for itself simply in "free" viewings Honda isn't paying a dime to have you watch this commercial!).

When the ad was pitched to senior executives, they signed off on it immediately without any hesitation-including the costs. There are six and only six handmade Accords in the world. To the horror of Honda engineers, the filmmakers disassembled two of them to make the film. Everything you see in the film (aside from the walls,floor, ramp, and complete Honda Accord) are parts from those two cars.

When the ad was shown to Honda executives, they liked it and commented on how amazing computer graphics have gotten. They fell off their chairs when they found out it was for real.

Standing or sitting, he's still an asshole.

On the news last night there was a story about Donald Rumsfeld and what a lying bastard he is. Same old shizz, really, but then they mention somewhere in the middle of it that Rumsfeld works standing up. As in he has a standing desk that he works at everyday. Then they showed a picture of him and his desk, and it's basically like a bigger podium with all kinds of shizz on it and he just stands there all day and does his thing. By thing, I mean being a sneaky fucker rat bastard.

To tell the truth, I have a little crush on the man. He's rather handsome and of course there's the whole power dynamic. But I utterly condemn his handling of Iraq and everything associated with it.

(steps off of soapbox)

Got some sleep last night, didn't help.

The Audi I wanted got sold. Right out from under me. Right out from under me when I had no deposit down and had been stalling for over two weeks. RIGHT OUT!

Have been in an advanced Excel class all day. Am brimming with pivot table nastiness and macro karate kung fu shit. Watch out.

Like everyone else, Float On makes me dance crazily around. I love it so. I think it's because I enjoy the sound of men shouting in unison.

Trivia tonight. We won $60 last week. I expect to drink at a muchly reduced rate. Money-wise, that is.

This month's Vanity Fair is good. Chockfull of sex and murder and David Beckham. I like that mag; in fact, I was pondering a subscription card that fell out on the plane the other day. Two years for $30 or something. I think I might do it. YAY!!!

Okay, going to work out now. I'd rather be smoking sullenly in my car stuck in traffic, but no--I'm going to go work out.

I am. Really.

Chicago kicked my ass.

Draaaaaagging so hard from this weekend. Left Friday afternoon to catch flight up to Chi-town. Much to the bemusement of my coworkers, I left at noon to catch a 3pm plane. Ha ha very funny I almost missed my plane. Traffic/parking/security, all of it hellish and life-force-sucking. Would have, in fact, been close if AirTran were not such a shit airline and delayed the flight. I was briefly reminded of my reasoning for the four-year long boycott of the airline after a particularly dreadful experience over the Labour Day weekend of 1999. To be fair, however, we were only delayed by a half-hour and things were pretty good from then on out.

Arrive in Chicago, literally only have time to put stuff down in C's apt and then we RACE to a train station to get out to Ravinia--we have tickets to the Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright show. So nice, great evening, sat with hundreds of other people in a park, drank wine, listened to the music, etc. Great way to wind down the week. Really dug Rufus' shizz.

Saturday we meet up with C's boyfriend-not-really's dad and stepmum (you know, if people would just stay together it would make things much easier for me thanks). Ate at this fairly fancy bistro off Mich Ave. I had the skate, it was delicioso. Then shopping shopping shopping for sassy dresses for a birthday party that night. Found a fabulous salmon number from BCBG with complementary pancho it ROCKED. Went to dinner at some tapas place, then to Navy Pier for fireworks at which I smoked and chattered my tits off because it was EFFING COLD. Then to a Latin salsa club, at which I drank a lot of raspberry vodka and danced with short men who kept grabbing my ass. Nice.

Sunday we arose and dragged ass to Flat Top, where we feasted on two courses of DIY stir-fry. Blood sugar raging, I got really hyper and a) laughed so hard I cried twice (plus it was my SIGNATURE CACKLE, so I'm sure the rest of the patrons appreciated that) and b) found a tremendous amount of comfort in flinging my torso flat against the seat of the booth when something was SO FUNNY that I just couldn't take it anymore (I did this approximately 38 times) and c) determined that I may be a closet Phil Collins fan after I ran down the top five PC songs of all time (In the Air Tonight, Against All Odds, Separate Lives, I Wish it Would Rain Down on Me, Easy Lover).* Afterwards, we went to the beach, laid out for a couple of hours, all the while being serenaded by the world's worst U2 cover band. At one point, they came back for a break, and the singer said in between screeches--I am not making this up--"That chicken sandwich did something to me." Got a little burned, mostly on the shoulder tops. Ambled down to the SALON and got a pedicure (C got a mani). Then back to the house, packed up and had sushi delivered YUM it was really good.

Had trouble sleeping b/c worried about missing 5:30am flight. Also had hard time figuring out why the eff I thought a 5:30am flight would be a good idea. Tossed and turned for 4 hours and LO it was time to get up. 3:30am. Too tired to even feel tired. Cabbie showed up right on time, I got in and he says, "You might want to move to the other side, someone threw up on that one." Great. Come to find out it was a little old lady in her 70s who had one too many cosmopolitans. I'm actually pleased to hear that versus typical college kid, but vomit is vomit and every once in a while I would get a faint whiff. Needless to say, I spent the entire ride with my upper body hanging out the window. Got to airport in RECORD TIME, slept on plane, came straight to work, and voila. Big, busy day and um why am I still here? Oh yeah, to blog it all to you.

I just hope you appreciate what I do for you.



*Has just occurred to me that not only do I own his greatest hits album on CD, I also purchased the cassingle of Another Day in Paradise circa 1990. Interesting.

The raw deal

I have been loopy for sushi non-stop for like the last six months. Before this I could barely eat the stuff, so weird. Now I am ALL ABOUT IT. Like pretty much any time, any day I could it. I note that Atlanta is lacking a sushi brunch. I think it could work.

My favorite place is Sushi Avenue. Their spicy tuna crunch roll makes my body so happy to be eating it, I almost want to throw up and taste it again. Not really. To paraphrase K's blog entry today, it makes my thighs burn for all the right reasons.

I didn't know there was an ATL version of craigslist!

(click above for link)

well, until today that is

I secretly want to find someone looking for me on missed connections

I knew it.

She gave me an effing brace. I told her I won't wear it. She said, well can you sleep in it? And I said yeah prolly. She said that was fine.

Oh, and re; the fat wrist jibe: as a matter of interest, she couldn't FIND a brace small enough for my slender, delicate, one might almost say SKELETAL, wrist.

So eff you.

My body doesn't work right anymore

I'm about to go over to Health Services to have them check out my wrist. It was really hurting yesterday, although it feels better today. Being the medical professional that I am, I have self-diagnosed my injury as the cause of one of three possibilities:

1. softball
2. typing for 900 hours a time at work
3. softball and typing for 900 hours a time at work

I'm hoping she will have some magical cure, like snap it some crazy way and fix it forever. Or drugs. I'm okay with drugs. More likely she will tell me I need to type differently and quit softball. Worst case I will be fitted with some sort of brace. Which I won't wear and will continue to fuck up my wrist.

Why doesn't my body work anymore? Oh yeah, because I'm getting effing OLD. Not really, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I think I'll go buy an Audi and cry in it.

BREAKING NEWS re; the Blogger timestamp controversy

Well shit no it's not after all--the time keeps changing, last one was four minutes off. Will the mystery of the timestamp continue to elude me?

I have to go home. This is getting ridiculous.

Sorry.

I just thought you should know

That the Blogger timestamp is actually 17 minutes ahead of real time. Fascinating, I know.

Okay, I was a little bitchy yesterday.

I'm a big girl, I can admit it. Today has been considerably better, mainly due in part--I feel--to caffeine. Yes, this is very sad, but I didn't have a Diet Dr Pepper (a.k.a. the breakfast of champions ew I know) yesterday morning, and look where it got me. Needless to say, I had one this morning, and voila! A pretty good day.

I did, however, have to go to battle with AT&T Wireless (a.k.a. thieving bastards), AMEX (a.k.a. sneaky fuckers), and Delta Air Lines (a.k.a. what me, work?) today over various issues. I was feeling kind of fiesty. Didn't actually have to get evil on anyone--although prepared to, shut the office door and everything--but did have to pull out "the tone" every now and then. God service reps must effing hate me. This reminds me of a story.

Last year a telemarketer called me and pretended to be a friend of mine. He asked for Eleanor in a heavy New York (I can only assume Long Island-ish) accent, so I said who's calling? And he says, it's Peter. So I said, well which one? May I ask why you are calling? just effing with him a bit, and he gets all flustered and upset and screams GOD PEOPLE LIKE YOU MAKE MY JOB SO DIFFICULT, THANKS A LOT FUCKNUTS!!! And hung up. I was a little surprised, to say the least. It's not everyday you get called fucknuts by a complete stranger.

Pretending to be your friend, no less.

Things I hate, part two

Looking back, I have had a pretty crappy day. But continuing on avec la liste de haine:

5. Getting a crap program thrown in my lap that I have to champion but is the most shittily constructed thing EVER
6. Being told flimsy excuses from one person about why we can't do something, and then getting a completely contradictory version from the next person, who has never been told about it in the first place
7. Getting thrown to the wolves by a dick who is supposed to have your back
8. Morons wallowing in their own self-importance, just talking to hear themselves and not listening to anything anyone else is saying
9. Have to placate the people in #8
10. Having to stay ONE MORE HOUR when it's obvious this day is shot

Okay, so I'm feeling a little sorry for myself. I am. I'm mad at myself too, like I should have omnipotently foreseen all the problems with this SHIT PROGRAM and fixed everything before. Except there's no way I could have. I just HATE being caught unawares and dammit I do more troubleshooting when it's my shit! I can't IMAGINE how little the person who designed this crap must have cared about her job.

But I also hate looking like I'm blaming others. It's tacky and cheap. SO I'm just taking my lumps and weathering the shit storm. I like how a million people have been blasting me from every direction and then closing with, "I know this isn't your fault, you're doing a great job, really." Hey thanks, now think you would help me find my asshole somewhere around here?

Because I just can't be bothered with pesky work today.

I'm listening to Our Time in Eden right now, the last album by 10,000 Maniacs. It came out when I was a senior in high school. I remember driving around listening to it on my tape player in the Honda Civic Hatchback (semi-automatic, mind you) with my friend Christian Uzzle. I really remember listening it to it one night when we were spying on someone outside a theatre one night. But I can't remember who it was. It was, however, the same theatre that I had to do 15 hours of community service at in order to satisfy some ticket I got one time. Can't remember why I got that ticket either. Shizz my brain has turned to pot. No pun intended.

We campaigned for the song These Are Days to be our senior song, but Today by the Smashing Pumpkins won instead. Hey I like the song, but "Today is the greatest day I've ever known"? That's a bit melo for high school. Who am I kidding, it was all drama. It's actually the perfect song to look back on fondly, smile warmly with crinkly eyes, and say man we were effing idiots!

Things I hate, part one

1. People that interrupt me.
2. People that give me no notice for things like I have to give a presentation this afternoon.
3. People that tell me I talk too fast.
4. People that waste my time with their incompetence.

All of these things have happened to me today. And it is 12:11pm. Does not bode well for the rest of the day. I'll keep you posted.

On a much happier note, I just called my friend Peter (although I call him Pee-tah) to wish him a HAPPY BIRTHDAY. It is also Flag Day, which he has reminded me of for years now, and I was braced, waiting for it again--but he didn't mention it. Just like that effer. He is in Tennessee right now, on his way home to DC from Tejas. I always have such a good time talking to that boy. Will see him and Ginny over the Independence Day w/e. Will be loads of fun.

I hear you say, DC on the 4th? Chicago this weekend? AFRICA IN SEPTEMBER??? My god, Eleanor, where are you getting all the money and time for this travel? To which I say, bog off nosy parker, it's NOYB.

Random interlude: For some reason I have a copy of At Close Range in my video collection. I have no idea how I acquired it, and had never even seen the film until last night. It is probably best known for having clips of it shown in the Live to Tell video. Ha in the ending credits, Madonna's name was first and bigger than Penn's. I bet that made him feel grrreat. Anyway, pretty much made-for-tv quality, Walken sneers his way through, but! BUT. Sean Penn is HOT! So hot. Whew boy I needs to calm down sexy hot. Mmm he was yummy. Not that he is bad now, but youth helps. A lot.

I know that I am a bad person.

I was just thinking to myself, hmm I need to post as I haven't blogged since last Wednesday. Wait, let me check out K's blog first--ah, hate mail in the first sentence. Lovely. Boring? Perhaps, but at least I can put links in my shizz like a CHAMP!

ALL WEEKEND I kept saying to myself, clean the house El, because it is NASTY and filthy and is grossing me out. And ALL WEEKEND I kept procrastinating and lounging about, almost in awe of the new lows of laziness that I didn't know I was capable of. Yesterday I left the house ONCE to return vids and buy vegetables for dinner. I am convinced that my remarkable levels of lethargy are due to the fact that I have eaten very few veg over the last week. Sure enough, I had spinach last night, and this morning did a load of laundry while I was getting ready for work. Well, it's a start. This weekend I am going to Chicago, so I MUST MUST MUST make some more progress this week. Here and now, I will resolve in print to do one thing each night this week (Mon-Thurs) to better my home environment. I already feel better.

I have an amazing beauty routine. The cornerstone of it consists of smearing my index finger in some brown eyeshadow while I am waiting at one of the 900 red lights, slapping it over one, maybe both, eyelids before racing on to the next red light. Then it's mascara time, very tricky to do as I must look in the rearview as well as peripherally keep tabs on the light, all the while waving a potentially lethal stick near my eyeball. It is not possible to do both sets of lashes at one light. Never happens. So, with one set left to go, I barrel on down to the next light. I always feel like Malcolm McDowell from A Clockwork Orange with only one set of lashes lashed. Like if I got into a wreck, all the people standing around my prone, lifeless body would have nothing better to talk about than, "Why does she only have one side mascara'ed?" Of course not! There would be too much blood. Ha Ha!

On a psuedo-related note, I test-drove one of these this weekend. It was nice. I think it will be mine. Soon.

Happy Yogurt Day!

hey I just realized the DANNON CARB CONTROL YOGURT WEBSITE lets you send yogurt-related e-cards to people. I think I will send one to K just to piss her off.

brain streaming

K got back today from the beach trip. Has prompted me to post finally. Intended to do so all week so that she would have a lot to read when she got back, but of course I effing didn't. I'm so lame.

Think I will get a pedicure tonight. Feet must have professional help.

Currently eating a side salad from Chik-fil-a right now and MAN is it good! I hear you say, "Salad? From a fast-food chain? Ew, you LIE." But NO! The Chik-fil-a side salad is not only a good value ($1.50 plus tax), but a delightful melange of lettuce (duh), cherry tomatoes (2), broccoli (2), red cabbage, carrots, and cheese (julienned strips), and honey-roasted sunflower seeds (optional). But the kicker is the spicy dressing. It's actually just called SPICY, and not only does it live up to its effing name, it's also pink. Both wins in my book. Granted, the ingredients are a little scary (unnerving: polysorbate 60, strangely appealing: anchovies), but EFF it! It tastes great and I love it. I lather Spicy dressing over nuggets too. I keep extra packets of it in the fridge at work so if I get a non-Chik-fil-a salad, I can still dress it right. D'zam is it good. Highly recommended!

On a related note, I also really dig the new-carb yogurt by Dannon. V tasty indeed. God I'm such a fucking consumer. It does, however, creep me out that they have an extremely comprehensive website on the product. Not the Dannon website, the Dannon CARB CONTROL YOGURT WEBSITE. Does anyone else find this weird? yee.

Sometimes I actually like it here, part one.

Last night was the opening film for Screen on the Green. Getting there was an effing nightmare, for a variety of reasons.

a) Even though I waited until almost 630p to leave, there was still a lot of traffic. Stuff like it taking four stop-light phases for me to get through. grr
b) Stopped in at grocery store to get fried chicken (standard contribution to the potluck tradition), soda, water, and smokes. Realized that ONCE AGAIN I have left all of my nine skillion lighters at home. And I have no car lighter. Only lighters available were in a five-pack, which I RESOLUTELY refused to purchase. I mean really. Also got dirty looks from the deli ladies when I stole a million napkins off the salad bar. Hey, it's fried chicken. Greasy.
c) Back on road for 4.3 seconds when Kat calls to ask me to stop in a grocery store (!!) and pick up balloons as the place marker on the field. Teeth uncontrollably gnash. I hiss, "Fine!"

okay, wait. I have to stop here and go eat sushi. more apres lunch.

back. sated. not the best sushi though. bummer.

c) continued: Stop in at grocery store #2, go to floral, no one there. Have someone paged. The balloon inflating process seems interminable, I feel as though I am drugged. Finally get out. Did buy a lighter, well two. But it's better than FIVE.
d) Travel several miles on highways at fast speeds with balloons whipping wildly around my backseat. Endanger my life about 6 times. Find myself curiously resigned to the fact that I am likely to get into a bad accident at any moment. And it will be my fault.
e) FINALLY get off highway and promptly get stuck in traffic in midtown. Go through the it-takes-4-cycles-of-stoplights-to-get-through-the-intersection action ala point a). Frustration made even more intense when discover that the hold-up is due to a total EFFING MORON who has been pulled over, and decided to PARK in one of two lanes instead of logically pulling into a side street or parking lot, avenue or boulevard. Pay $5 for parking, which surprisingly doesn't bother me at all because I'm just so relieved to actually be at the park. Well a couple of blocks away really. But still. There.
f) Realize that the frantic whipping around of the balloons in the backseat for nine hundred miles has utterly, completely, and hopelessly irrevocably tangled up the strings. I look at the jumbled mass of shit for about seven seconds, even pick at it for another couple of seconds before definitively concluding there is no effing WAY those strings are ever going to be untangled. And dismiss it from my mind. Walk to the park.
g) Get to park, find everyone relatively easily, even run into an old friend from Turner. He's Italian. His name is Luca. He hasn't changed a bit. Give the balloons to Kat to tie up. Twenty minutes later, Kat says to me, "Where are the balloons?" Sure enough, look around. No where. Look up and do a 360 sky search. It's as if they never existed.

FIN.

I'm spent. Part two will be later. It's a lot more positive, don't worry.
Teasers: Young Frankenstein (Frahnkenschteen!), wine, friends, boy.

I really should put a stop to this.

Ah, the memorial day weekend. A veritable slap-dash blur of free-flowing booze, junky yummy food, a skillion cigarettes, very little sleep, and a haze of memories as one day blended into the next. Not part of my weekend? Why, anything productive, on my to-do list, or involving physical exercise. Unless you count skinny-dipping as exercise. And actually, as a matter of fact, I DO!

My boss is out this week, and I am being surprisingly productive. It feels good. What does not feel good is the sore thigh muscle I have after I BRILLIANTLY played softball yesterday without stretching out AT ALL. Smart. I feel effing old.

Okay, I'm going to go work out. It's the least I can do.

First, though, I have to finish my cheese nips.

Help me.

WTF I can STILL NOT see my post from this morning! K did and already commented (which of course, I can't see either but who cares it will just be the usual whiny shizz). Blogger be damned! How DARE you give me something for nothing that doesn't work right!!

Was about to write about how bitter and jealous I am that EVERYONE seems to have either a) not worked today at all, or b) has already gone home, but then She Came Along to Me came on my media player and now I'm all happy again and shit. Yay Billy Bragg.

I hate my crybaby friends. They winge and moan at the hint of the slightest amount of things not going their way. Take my friend that I'll call Caryn. One mention from the weatherman that there will be scattered storms over the holiday weekend, and she flips. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl flat across the face. Although with my perpetual pose of beer-in-one-hand-smoke-in-the-other all weekend, I'm not sure how I would do that.

Oh yeah, I have to clean my house too.

God I love three-day weekends.

So today I have been listening to a couple of CDs I haven't played in a while, one of which is Rock Spectacle by Barenaked Ladies. I bought this CD when I was living in Martha's Vineyard the summer after I graduated from college. I was in a ratty Boston record store, and I bought this, Hello Nasty, and Ophelia. Why would I effing remember that? Anyway, while I was playing it this morning all these memories of that summer, driving around, the ocean and beaches, the people I met and became friends with, etc, all exploded into my head. Shit I haven't thought about in a long time. It know it sounds weird, but it made me want to cry, because I miss that girl that I used to be. I don't want to be her again, but I do miss her.

I met this guy this weekend, who turned out to be 25. It's funny, I felt really old around him. And yet I don't around someone like KP. Oh wait, I forgot that boys are stupid. Jesus Kevin was older than me and I always felt like I was babysitting and not getting paid. He was cute, though. The 25-year old. Arrogant and naive--just how I like 'em.

MV story: The four of us rented this house, had nine skillion parties, and drank heavily to make up for non-party days. Consequently, we had AMAZING towers of empty beer bottles and cans to recycle. Except that we only went twice. The whole summer. Each time was precipitated by the fact that we could no longer navigate our way through the screened-in porch to get out the front door. It took about 4 hours to get all our shit together and get down to the recycling place, and we always hid the NAAAAAASTY bottles with rotted limes (Corona! oh my god we drank so much of it) covered in moldy spiderwebs in them at the back so the recycler guy wouldn't see them. I remember both times we were all excited and like, "We're going to get like $500 for all this shit!" And then we would get like $48.

Better today. Got loads of sleep last night, and body not nearly as sore. Work is particularly difficult to focus on today, because I have way more exciting extracurricular things to research such as:

1. Checking out cars online (Volvo update: now she's doing this weird choppy thing when I'm accelerating, like she's gasping for air when I am speeding up. I am not a mechanic, but I sense this is NOT GOOD. My dad is all about the S40s, he will help me look for one when he is here in July. I fear it may be too late.)

2. Researching MBA programs (I really think I am going to do this, need to conduct research as to whose program is better, GSU v. UGA)

3. Potentially planning a weekend jaunt up to Chicago to see the sis

4. Finding out where the eff a post office or other mailing institution is near the office as I have approx 9 skillion things to post

5. Getting my shizz together insofar as vaccinations go for the Africa trip (Did I tell you that I inadvertently found my feared-lost passports this weekend when I was looking for my tire warranty stuff? I was so pleased, did a little dance around the house. And HELLO I'm going to Africa)

Hmm the last point reminds me what an EFFING MESS my house has become. Weekend resolution: organize shizz, shred about a million things, just generally get things tidy. Christ almighty, the MISSION it will be.

On another note, got a lovely package from mon souer yesterday--it included the soundtrack to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And my review is. . . movie good, soundtrack kind of effing sucks. Some bits are nice to have in the background when working (har the irony), but others are blenders of shit inside my ears. God on a few tracks I started to panic that I wouldn't be able to skip in time to prevent my brain splitting. It was v sweet of C to send, though--she also sent the new Diana Krall, will listen next. See what I did there? I'm figuring she might read this at some point and get pissed.

One last thing before I go: if Karen and my blogs were having a race, mine would be KICKING HER ASS.