car cameraman

wisteria
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Here's a shot I took hanging out the passenger side of my car at a stop light. This is the most beautiful time of year in the ATL, almost everything is in bloom, from the wisteria to the azealas to the yoshinos to the bradford pears to the tulip trees. And it's just beautiful.

And I call you and say C'MERE!

Originally uploaded by smelly_.

I highly recommend this record. Just in case you needed a musical recommendation.

'Til Tuesday

Had an uncomfortable dream last night. At first it started out really good, Claire and I were on the floor of some building and we were going through all these clothes that were being thrown out and we were finding some really cool stuff. I was all excited about these new clothes, and we packed them into carrier bags and were walking out. When we got outside, I realised I didn't have my bag, so I went back inside and my clothes were all strewn about on the landing of the second floor. And I knew that this girl had done this somehow and I was very angry and yelling at her. She got really upset and started crying and I felt bad so I gave her a hug and was like just get some help. And then she made a pass at me and I was like ew don't touch me and I pushed her away and ran away.

I'm not sure why I am having dreams with lesbian overtones. I think it's because I talked to the woman who cuts my lawn yesterday who I am fairly sure is gay and she seems to have a crush on me.

These people rock.

These people rock.
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Shake It Records is a, uh, record store in Cincinnati, Ohio. They advertise on woxy.com, the BEST ONLINE RADIO STATION IN THE UNIVERSE, and today I ordered special EPs from Rilo Kiley, Iron and Wine, and Interpol for a mere $15. On top of that, shipping was only $2. Two dollars! Very cool. Highly recommended.

www.shakeitrecords.com

I can hear you, asshole!!!

Fucking IM guy
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Because my company is effing retarded and uber-hyper about security, they have a totalitarian policy whereby you are prohibited from downloading anything on your computer EVER. This sucks for business purposes (survey data software, for example), but mostly for my personal needs (instant messager, for example). Consequently, my only option is to access the web-only version of IM, which used to be okay. But lately, it boots me off indiscriminately approximately 900 times per day. It doesn't even tell me when it does it, which would be helpful, since I have wasted a skillion minutes a) composing witty bits of hilarity to my friends only to find out that I'm not online, and b) thinking my friends hate me and are not IM'ing back.

Obviously, the company should just let me download the app so we could avoid these problems all together.

Haiku Review: Sin City

Haiku Review: Sin City
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

Very violent
Amazing special effects
I'd see it again

FAME AND FORTUNE!

Hmmph! Very pleased with myself--I sent my version of a My Fighting Technique is Unstoppable (see 30 Mar post) comic to the creator, David Rees, and below is his reply!

Ha! Thanks for sending this.

Best wishes,

David Rees

http://www.mnftiu.cc

So not exactly OVERFLOWING with emotion, but still it was nice of him to reply.

As you can see, I'm practically a celebrity now.

jerry and sam

jerry and sam
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

My friend Andy sent this to me. Apparently it's been making the rounds at his office.

You can almost hear Jerry's soulful rendition of "Sloop John B" as Sam peacefully stargazes.

Breathtaking.

RIP, Pope. 1920-2005

RIP, Pope. 1920-2005
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

His passing has made me incredibly sad. It feels like a distant relative that I really liked but never got to know well died. I admired his steadfastness on issues even when I didn't agree with his positions. His enthusiasm for life and people was obviously passionate, from his goofy smiles and faces at babies to his cheering for breakdancers and musicians. He was a man who didn't seem like just a man despite his humble nature. He was a good pope. He was my pope.

FUCKING AWESOME!!!!

"She caught that baby, put it to her chest, gave me a look, like, 'I gotta go,' closed the door, put the van in gear and away she went."
-- Gas station co-owner Lloyd Goff

http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/03/31/station.delivery.ap/index.html

I would not eff with this woman, she is one tough mama to say the least.

MNIMTIU

MNIMTIU
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

This is today's creative attempt. If you don't know My New Fighting Technique is Unstoppable, you should.

http://www.mnftiu.cc/mnftiu.cc/home.html

Moments in idiocy

ALL DAY I have been suffering through the effects of a nasty hangover making its way through my system. Cause? Oh, just closing down the bar yesterday on Karaoke Night. Or should I say this morning. I sang Brass in Pocket, but that is neither here nor there. I wasn't even fully aware that I was doing this until they announced it was the last song and the lights went on. Bryan and I both looked at our watches and then each other with a silent, "What did we just do?" But Bryan did not have to work today. And I did. Woke up at 7:55 am with the help of no alarm (forgot to set it), and did the "wait, what day is this?" brain buster until I deduced that fuck it's Friday and I am late for work. I did, however, make record time, screeching in at 9am.

Anyway, have been feeling just generally shit all day. Was paranoid at first that people would know (like smell the alcohol seeping out of my pores), and while that is still a likelihood, I just don't give a fuck anymore. Yeah, I went out last night. Yeah, I got effed up and dragged ass in here today. Yeah, I know I look like shit. Yeah, I know my eyes are glassy and my skin is pasty. What of it? You want a piece of this? Back off!

To be fair, I rarely do this. Now I remember why. Oh yeah, the point of all of this: about 9 minutes ago, it occured to me that I could take some ibruprofen or something to make my head not hurt as much. All day, silently suffering, never even thought about it. So lame.

Best. Photo. Ever.

Best. Photo. Ever.
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

I don't even know where to start.

Okay. First, the dog drool splatter. The picture was snapped RIGHT AT the moment of cat-paw-into-dog-jaw impact, thus capturing the spray of dog saliva. This photographic coup is only made sweeter by the irony that this is dog is a boxer. Next, the cat's expression, one of total bustedness. 100% caught in the act, plus the yellow flashy reflection for added flair. Lastly, the amazing sidekick to the head--an acrobatic feat rarely mustered by humans, let alone a cat. Well done. Well fucking done.

Magnifique!

I don't know WHY I am telling you this

I don't know WHY I am telling you this
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

I saw Marathon Man for the first time the other week. I had no idea what it was about, so was surprised to see Dustin Hoffman as a rather sexy young hero type and Laurence Olivier as a sadistic ex-Nazi dentist. IS IT SAFE? (those who have seen it know what I am talking about) Anyway, the other night I dreamt that I was sitting with a group of people in a living room watching telly and Dustin walks in (young, cute, sexy Dustin, NOT old, craggy, yicky Dustin) and sits next to me on the couch. He has a blanket or a folded-out sleeping bag, which he lays over himself, like snuggling in (I get the feeling we are at some big co-ed sleepover). But part of the blanket covers me as well, and soon I feel Dustin's hand holding mine. And I feel ridiculously happy, sitting there secretly holding hands with young Dustin Hoffman.

FIN.

Proof positive of shared DNA

Tallulah3190: hey
Bunny Underpants: hey
Bunny Underpants: i said hey sir!!!!
Tallulah3190: hey
Tallulah3190: sorry hang on
Bunny Underpants: cool
Tallulah3190: ok sorry
Tallulah3190: purse arrived
Tallulah3190: it's pretty cute
Tallulah3190: real leather
Bunny Underpants: yah!
Tallulah3190: craftmanships not great, but ok
Bunny Underpants: well it'll be nice regardless
Bunny Underpants: she'll appreciate the effort
Tallulah3190: I think she will be pleased, with the intention if nothing
else
Tallulah3190: right
Bunny Underpants: exactly
Bunny Underpants: RIGHT
Tallulah3190: yes
Bunny Underpants: EXACTLY
Tallulah3190: I KNOW
Tallulah3190: FINE!
Bunny Underpants: ME TOOOOOO
Tallulah3190: I GET IT
Bunny Underpants: FINE
Tallulah3190: COMPRENDE
Bunny Underpants: capiche
Tallulah3190: ALLES KLAR
Bunny Underpants: lol
Tallulah3190: lol ok quit
Bunny Underpants: ok you got me /w the german
Tallulah3190: Ja wohl!
Bunny Underpants: lol again
Bunny Underpants: vunderbar!
Bunny Underpants: alles goed
Tallulah3190: sehr gut!
Bunny Underpants: eh
Bunny Underpants: it's good?
Tallulah3190: um very good
Tallulah3190: damn can you email me this exchange?
Bunny Underpants: uh seriously
Bunny Underpants: as riveting as our underlying competitive exchanges
are...
Tallulah3190: no I thought it was really funny
Bunny Underpants: ah
Bunny Underpants: well okay then!
Tallulah3190: and I can't cut and paste IMs
Bunny Underpants: aw
Tallulah3190: sniffle wiffle pizzle

pathetic.

pathetic.
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

This is truly the saddest post I've ever made on this blog. I went to a bodysculpting class last night, and IT KICKED MY ASS. It was ridiculous. I hobbled out of there, already in some serious discomfort. Took a reeeally hot bath, which helped a lot (ta, C), but today. TODAY. Today I am in some serious pain. I got out of my chair after sitting for a while and my legs would only respond in a stiff, soldier's gait ala no kneecaps. I dropped something on the floor and just looked at it, knowing I wouldn't be able to bend down to pick it up. And the toilet. Well, let's just let the pic do the talking, hmm?

I'm totally going back next week.

I know it's been a little bit

orbach
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

But I really miss this guy. Lenny!

Our spiritual father indeed. I only hope God realizes there's no WAY he can put Jerry in the corner.

aha

So I just figured something out. If you are having a crappy time of something, just find someone who has it worse and focus on them--by comparision, your problems will simply meeeeelt away. My boss is SERIOUSLY stressing right now. Like I thought she was just about to cry a second ago. She couldn't even talk. So I sent her a cheer-up ecard and now I feel pretty good about my shit. It's all about perspective.

Not trying to trivialize her problems. But they do kind of help me deal with mine. And isn't that what good old Darwinism is all about?

to do: everyfuckingthing

I'm stressed out.

For the last two weeks, my right lower eyelid has had a tic. I have also been prone to right temple headaches in addition to several frustrating and upsetting dreams. The capper? My skin is threatening to revolt: last week I was only just able to crush a rebellion uprising on my nose, and now my left cheek is looking suspect. Why is my body in such distress?

the big shit

1. GMAT exam is Feb 5
2. DICK people at work making my job a constant battle
3. House is a mess

Then there are the little retarded things that manage to stress me out, like I need to sort out papers and burn CDs and reframe photos and stupid shit that I know I shouldn't worry about but I am.

My friend called me last night to tell me she just got engaged. This is adjacent to yet another area of stress in my life, the one that involves the scenario of me dying alone. I'm also going to be 29 in three months.

Fuck, I have to stop doing this before I just completely lose it.

oh yeah

So I've been pretty lame lately. Not going out, eating at home, studying and doing homework. Typical weekday is wake/commute/work/gym/commute/eat/homework/telly/bed. Very boring. But I'm getting kind of used to it.

Then today I passed by this guy and got a faint whiff of his cologne. And I was like, oh yeah--cologne men crush flutter heart kiss hold sex relationship ET CETERA. Not only have I not thought about any of those concepts in a while, I realized that I don't have time for them right now.

And it made me sad.

success!

The dog has been reunited with its owners! The vet's office called today to say that a lady came in this AM to pick up her dogs from boarding, saw the FOUND poster, recognized the dog as her neighbor's, and bigbangboom, the dog is safe at home with its rightful owner. Yay.

The lady called me later to personally thank me. She sounded old, told me she lost her husband and other dog (a lot older) last year, so finding this pup was extra special for her. I felt my heart go all squiggly and asked her, "Where's my fucking reward, BITCH???"

Of course I didn't do that. I just murmured and listened and said you're welcome and that was it.

But I was thinking it.

props up

Normally I avoid all mention of people who are funnier than me, but this demands exception. A snippet from a recent email of Claire's in which she COMPLETELY nails our aged parentals.

How to tell if you're becoming an old wrinklie:
1) a panto is loud
2) you can't drive without the assistance of two other people in the car who can still operate their neck
3) you buy so much overstock of ovaltine and long-life milk a beneficiary has to be included in your will
4) whining about aching body parts becomes an art form
5) it takes twelve minutes to get in and out of any car
6) the fourth part of a four-course meal is falling asleep upright in your chair
7) you have all day, every day, to drink
8) you have all day, every day, to watch reruns of law & order
9) you're on at least three prescription medicines to make it worth the trip to the pharmacy
10) having the heat on is a mindless luxury

Well done, Claire. Now stop being funny. It makes me look bad.

FOUND!

pup
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

This is the dog. Really cute little guy. Hope his owners find him soon.

'hood hijinks

This is what happened to me yesterday evening. I know you want to know.

Left the house early for GMAT class to be able to swing by some place to get replacement battery for cordless phone. Approaching Memorial, I see a dog (unleashed/uncollared/alone) running all over the road headed straight for busy-four-lane-hit-dogs-for-sport Memorial Drive. So I pull over and call to the dog. He comes right over (pause: I know you are thinking, "Eleanor. This dog could have been violent and rabid. Why would you do something so potentially dangerous?" Because I'm a risk-taker, baby. I live on the edge. I dunno, I just had a good vibe about him. And I was right, anyway. So back to the story.) and is all friendly albeit pretty muddy and dirty. So I look in my trunk for a towel to clean him off and HE JUMPS INTO MY DRIVER'S SEAT. My virgin, just cleaned, love-of-my-life-car's driver's seat. After I came to, I used a fleece to wipe the dog down and drove him around the neighborhood to see if I could find his owners. No luck. So it gets time to go to class and I don't know what to do with this dog. Tallulah will FLIP if she thinks she's getting a new housemate. Unbelievably jealous dog. I ended up putting him in my side garden bed area of the yard (fenced off from the rest as to avoid dog confrontation) and left for class.

I'm headed toward Memorial AGAIN, and now there is a car in the road. Like parked, broadside in the middle of the road, no one in it. I had to pull all the way to the left of the road to get around it. I thought about stopping to see if someone had had a heart attack and was slumped over the wheel, but then I thought fuck that I've already saved a dog today and I have to get to class. Then in class I feel horribly guilty about this decision, and on the way home am dreading to see what happens when I turn into my neighborhood (envisioning: police lights, yellow tape, interviewing me saying, "Oh yeah, I saw it parked there, but I just drove right on by!"). But the car was gone, and turns out that it was parked in an adjacent driveway and the brake had slipped. I bet the guy's face when he looked out the window and saw his car in the middle of the road was pretty funny.

ANYWAY. Try to leave dog outside, but once he knows I'm home, begins incessantly barking. Try to leave him in basement, nope. So bring him inside, and Tallulah is actually pretty cool about it, although she keeps looking at me with pleading eyes that say, "Something is horribly, horribly wrong here." So we sleep. Me, Lu, the mutt--Ben was EXTREMELY PISSED at me for allowing an interloper in our house, so he was cata non gratis all night. Took the dog to nearby vet this AM. Hope his owners find him, he's obviously someone's--jumped on my bed to sleep, Tallulah nearly had a heart attack since she herself is not allowed up. I kicked him off, but let him stay while I was getting ready this morning, sort of a last-rites type of concession. He was pretty cute, though. Some kind of terrier.

Not even considering it, if that's what you were thinking. I'm already betrothed to the most co-dependent dog on the planet, and she just wouldn't have it.

I'll post a pic of him though. So you can see that you would have done the same thing if it had happened to you.

Still don't have battery for cordless phone. It's veritably gasping for air.

I think we've been here before

Have I mentioned how much I hate AT&T? Well, I do. I hate them. The latest in a long, drawn-out saga of SHIT with them is that they now won't give me skymiles on my phone service unless I make more than $50 worth of calls per month. Which I don't. Keeping in mind that skymiles is the ONLY reason I signed up with them in the first place. Hate. Them. Hate.

Don't even get me started about my wireless contract with them. Although I did email a pic from my mobile today, that was pretty cool. It will probably cost me nine skillion dollars on my next bill. See? Hate.

DEATH! REVENGE!! REVENGE FOR WANDA!

Holiday Theme: sit on ass, watch telly

I kept Blockbuster in Business this holiday season. I can't even REMEMBER all the flicks I rented (NetFlix? hmm have resisted thus far), but below are highlights/lowlights/ehlights:

• Shaun of the Dead: Best film of the lot, actually going into top films for me, PERIOD. I was the annoying bitch that laughed hysterically at pretty much everything. Fanfuckingtastic.
• Napoleon Dynamite: Overall, overrated. But Kip was my favourite, and I keep hearing Napoleon's soundbites in my head, so I guess that stands for summat.
• Pretty Dirty Things: Stephen Frears film starring Audrey Tatou. Well done all round.
• Kicking and Screaming: Again, overrated--seems to be aiming for a Diner redux vibe.
• Van Helsing: Complete and utter guilty pleasure, ate pizza and drank cola just to complete the mainstreamedness of it all. So bad that my eyes involuntarily looked away from the telly at times.
• Garden State: Decent, suffers from overstrain.
• Dare to Love Me: Good, typically French. Quirkiness reminiscent of second-rate Amelie.
• I Can Sleep When I'm Dead: Mike Hodges' film with Clive Owen. Kept waiting for something that never really happened. Weak, but Clive's always scrummy. I mean, immensely talented.

If I think of the others, I'll blog. As you can see, I really got into the season. Of course, this is coming from the woman whose favourite holiday flick is Bad Santa.

Got 'em.

Got 'em.
Originally uploaded by smelly_.

This photo was a visual finger that poked me between ribs 3 and 4, tickled me mercilessly, and made me pee a little.

I have to go to the bathroom now. Be right back.

Happy '05.

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!