Immoral and In Love

flirting

2006-05-16T10:40:00.000-04:00

Someday you will stop finding it cute and start finding it annoying when I act like a 12 year old girl with her first crush. I just hope I recognize when that day comes.

So Long, Farewell

2006-04-24T16:11:00.000-04:00

A few blogs taken off of my blogroll this week. The Cloven Bunny is no longer operational, and Intricate Ramblings hasn't had a new post in a month.

Also, it's time to say good-bye to the single life. As of yesterday, I am now a married woman! The wedding went pretty well. I know there's always something that will go wrong, but thankfully nothing went wrong that wasn't easily fixable. We got shorted on tablecloths was the biggest mistake, but my mom made an emergency Wal-Mart run and solved that crisis. We had beautiful weather, although I think everybody got a sunburn by the end of the day. Especially me. I'm already starting to blister across my shoulders and on my back. Lovely mental image, yes?

I'm going to dump the memory card on my camera tonight when I get home from work, so look back late tonight or early tomorrow for some pictures!

Sweet, sour, and everything inbetween.

2006-04-11T11:16:00.000-04:00

Fucked up is the only phrase I can come up with to describe last week accurately.

On Monday, our friend Jenn died. She was 32 years old, and she overdosed on heroin. Or to be more precise, a combination of heroin and cocaine. Words can't even begin to describe what a huge waste her death was. Especially in light of the fact that she wasn't anything even close to a junkie. She just had recently started dating the wrong guy. And it's so easy to place the blame on her junkie boyfriend, but I know that's wrong. She knew damn well what she was doing when she put that needle in her arm. I'm so angry with her, but I miss her, too.

This has hurt the person that was closest to her more than anyone though. Eeyore, one of the guys in the band, and she have been pretty close to inseperable for about a year now. And if you couldn't tell by the nickname, Eeyore is pretty depressed most of the time anyway. This really took him down, understandably. Monday night he came over after we all got the news and was really scaring us, throwing up some red flag suicide warnings. He tried to give SO some of his stuff, etc. So SO and I took a couple days off work apiece so Eeyore didn't have to be alone.

And then Saturday, SO and I had our bachelor and bachelorette parties, respectively. SO got beat up by a stripper! The guys paid the extra money to have him pulled up on stage, and one of the girls got a little, uh, carried away and hit him, hard, with his belt buckle and laid his finger wide open. The guys claim that she was mad because they had told her to go away earlier in the night. But you know how guys are.

We girls had a blast! I can't really say too much...(you know, what happens at the bachelorette party stays at the bachelorette party), but let's just say I do have some souvenirs from the night.

Hello Caribbean!

2006-03-27T11:34:00.000-05:00

The cruise is booked. Airfare is booked. Hotel for the one night in Miami is booked. It's all set, ready to go. I'm so excited! Caribbean get ready, 'cause here I come.

And just so those of you that come here often know, I will not be blogging while on the cruise. You can pay a small fee to get a dial up connection in your cabin, but that would slightly distract from the whole honeymoon thing, so get ready for some long posts afterwards. You've got a while to prepare yourselves though; we leave April 28th.

April is going to be a very, very hectic month. Between packing and preparing for the cruise, the wedding and all the planning that entails, there's also the bachelorette party (which promises to be tons of fun), SO's band has a show, Easter, and the Race for the Cure, at which I have to work. It should be interesting to see if the stress gives me heart failure before the end of the month or not. I'm hoping not. That could make the cruise a real drag.

On a totally unrelated note, we took the little one to the zoo yesterday. She absolutely loved it, especially the dolphin show. She refused to sit down through the whole thing, and kept pointing at the dolphins as they performed, yelling "Wish! Wish!" which is her version of the word "fish." Yeah, I know dolphins are mammals, but she's only 1. We'll cut her some slack for now.

My Weekend in Numbers

2006-03-20T08:46:00.000-05:00

5 - times the boss' daughter played "Hey Mickey" at the 80's themed work party Saturday night.

4 - times I thought about unplugging the CD player.

2 - bad karaoke renditions of Joan Jett's "I love Rock 'n Roll" I heard at same party.

1 1/2- hours we had to stay before we could politely leave.

20 - minutes it takes to put a toddler's hair in pigtails. (Or maybe it just felt that way.)

47 - degrees fahrenheit was the high temperature for Sunday.

2 - temper tantrums at the park.

2 - books finished.

0 - arguments between SO and myself.

10 - loads of laundry that I should have got done, but didn't.

1 - time the little one shut her fingers in a door.

4-8 - inches of snow expected tomorrow. (Oh gawd, I'm blogging about the weather. What comes next? L337 talk?)

7 - days until my cousing leaves for boot camp.

3 - years of American forces in Iraq.

2,519 - armed forces killed in Iraq as of March 17th, 2006, according to CNN.com.

What the Hell Just Happened?

2006-03-17T22:59:00.000-05:00

Why is it that when the word "wedding" starts floating around perfectly rational adults turn into raving lunatics? SO and I have been warned several times about our parents coming unglued when it comes to wedding planning, and everytime we replied that we come from pretty laid-back, level-headed families. We wouldn't have any problems. How far from the truth that turned out to be.

When we first started planning the wedding, we quickly figured out that we wouldn't be able to afford a big thing. And our (extended) families add up to 150+ people. So... we decided to take a cruise and get married in the Caribbean. My future MIL doesn't care for that very much, as she can't afford to come with.

That's understandable. He is the eldest, and the favorite (though he'll deny that with his last breath.) So we figure we'll do a small JOP ceremony with just the immediate families, and then go on the cruise. And of course my mom freaks out about that, because it wouldn't be proportionate. Granted, he has 3 siblings compared to my one, and 6 neices and nephews compared to my one, and two grandparents compared to my one.

I guess it's so much for our mellow, down-to-earth families. Maybe that's just what we get for thinking it couldn't happen to us.

*Sorry for the lack of humor tonight, but this is all fresh in my mind and I needed to get it off my chest. Oh, and in honor of St. Patty's Day, "Pog mo thoin!"*

Note to Self

2006-03-15T13:31:00.000-05:00

Although it is significantly warmer than it has been the past few months, it is definitely not warm enough to wear sandals yet!

When Did I Get Old?

2006-03-15T09:17:00.000-05:00

I don't remember where I first heard this saying, but it's stuck with me for a long time:

There are two problems with a pity party. The first being that you're the only guest, and the second being that no one brings refreshments.

So I'm refusing to have a pity party about my decrepitude. Really, why party without cookies?

Oh, why am I convinced all of a sudden that I'm old? Because I don't get the newest music craze. What the hell is emo, anyway? Alot of people in the punk scene are spending alot of energy bashing it, and I don't understand that, either. From what I can see, it's about the same as any other fad. Taking a walk down memory lane, I remember the equivalant when I was in high school was raving. And really, how many people do you see nowadays wearing 30" cuff Gats and beaded bracelets up to their elbows?

Every generation has to go through the fads, and the phases before they can find out who they really are. Honestly, if I were 14 right now, I'd probably be emo, too. Even though I understand why these kids do it, I just don't get it. I even went out and bought the My Chemical Romance CD to see what all the hype was about. I like the music, but it doesn't make me want to comb my hair in front of my eyes and cut myself. Which isn't fair of me to say. I'm sure all emo kids don't do that. I guess just once you're past the teen angst stage of your life, you just don't get it anymore, and you're not supposed to.

Wait, does this mean I'm a grown up? Crap!

*side note: I've decided to apply to be in the Punk Rock Night Pinup Girls 2007 calendar. Wish me luck!*

One Drunk Night

2006-03-13T08:56:00.000-05:00

SO and I got into a HUGE fight on Saturday night. It's funny how when he's sober, we can talk things over like rational adults, but when he's drunk it quickly escalates into a screaming match. It's damned undignified.

I suppose it was good for us to get some things out into the open that were bothering us. And on Sunday, in the cold, rational light of sobriety, we did have a good talk. I told him that I'm tired of having a Dr. Jeckyll/Mr. Hyde scenario everytime he drank, and that I don't want to spend the rest of my life that way. He actually had the strength to admit that he has a drinking problem. And promised to work on it.

And therein lies the problem. I've never had patience with women who waste their time on men who promise and promise and promise to change. I've always felt that they deserve what they get, to a certain degree. But I also know what it's like to recover from an addiction. I hope I can be strong enough to support him while he fights his devils, but stay strong enough that I don't get taken advantage of in the process.

I do love him, and want to spend the rest of my life with him, but my life is not the only one to consider. So far, his drinking has not affected our daughter. He doesn't drink if she's around, but thanks to two sets of loving (if indulgent) grandparents, she does sleepovers quite often. If this starts to affect her at all, I'll have no choice but to remove her from the situation.

*Oh, by the way, everyone should check out Gito Gito Hustler. They're an all girl punk band from Tokyo, and they're who we went out to see on Saturday.*

Shameless Self Promotion

2006-03-09T22:39:00.000-05:00

Did you guys know I have a photo blog, too? You can find it here.

Let's Play Telephone!

2006-03-09T12:37:00.000-05:00

Me: This is Blue Girl, how can I help you?
Man (in a very effiminate voice): Don't you just sound adorable?!
Me: Thank you.
Man: Who did I call?
Me: This is (company's name).
Man: And what do you do?
Me: Screenprinting and embroidery.
Man: And where are you located?
Me: Indiana
Man: Well, this is odd. I'm in southern Florida and trying to call my tennis partner!
Me: Well, I could use a tennis partner, but Florida would be a long drive. *laughs*
Man: Oh, you play?
Me: I pretend to. *laughs*
Man: Shall I hazard a guess as to how old you are?
Me: Why not?
Man: 27.
Me: Oh, no. I'm 23.
Man: Oh well, you wouldn't talk to me. *pause* Do you like older men?
Me: Well, my husband is 8 years older than me, so I would say yes I do.
Man: Oh, you shouldn't be talking to me. You're married!
Me: Good luck getting a hold of your tennis partner then.

And if that wasn't strange enough, the following conversation took place the same day:

Man: *mumbles incoherently*
Me: I'm sorry?
Man: This is the place that sells (product), right?
Me: Yes, this is (company name). Can I help you?
Man (yelling at top of lungs): Your prices are too fucking expensive!
Me: We find our prices to be quite competitive, especially considering the above-average quality of our products.
Man: I don't know how you figure that! Five dollars for a mug?! Forty dollars for a fucking sweatshirt?! Shit, give a nigger a break. *pause* I mean, for fuck's sake!
Me: Could we continue this conversation without you cussing at me?
Man (lowers volume considerably): Oh, I'm not cussing at you. *pause* *man hangs up.*

Hopefully I made him realize that being rude and yelling weren't the best way to convince someone to change their pricing scheme. For some reason, I doubt the stupidity ends there.

Mandatory Oscar post

2006-03-05T22:33:00.000-05:00

I know alot of other bloggers are going to be writing about the Oscars, and if you're looking for in-depth coverage or witty insights, I suggest you go check them out. You'll find none of that here, just some observations I made throughout the night (at least up to this point).

Okay, so why have all the men in Hollywood gotten so fugly lately? With the notable exception of one Mr. George Clooney, I might add. Please tell me they all have roles that required them to, as a whole, gain weight, get horrible hair cuts, and have facial hair that closely resembles pubes.

They played "Suicide is Painless" to introduce Robert Altman. I'm sure the man is genius, but I'm thinking the song may have been meant as a hint. He didn't look horribly healthy.

And my last observation doesn't have so much to do with the Oscars as it does my household. I discovered that one of my dogs is terrified of rap music. Perhaps I should give a little bit of background on the dog. We believe her past owners may have abused her, because when we got her from the shelter, she was very hand-shy and terrified of every little thing. She was afraid to get on the couch, for crying out loud! What dog doesn't enjoy a good lounge on people furniture? We've pretty much broken her of most of her fears, but she's still terrified of the garbage truck, the camera and riding in cars. And, apparently, rap music. When they performed the nominated song for Hustle and Flow tonight, she took off like a bat out of hell to hide under the bed. Overwhelming cowardice...what an appropriate trait in a dog named Jedi.

Good Jeans* Can Do a Lot

2006-03-04T17:28:00.000-05:00

I hope these little "mommy epiphanies" never stop. For those of you that don't have kids, a mommy (or daddy) epiphany is when time stops for just a few seconds, and you're filled with part extreme pride of your child, part amazement that you could produce something that wonderful, part fear for your probable life span once they hit the teen years, and part affirmation that you must be doing something right.

Today I was washing a load of dishes when I noticed things seemed just a little bit too quiet in the living room. I went in to check on the two legged baby and the four legged babies to see what mischief they were into now. There was the baby, lounging on the couch with an afghan pulled over her lap, sippy cup at hand, holding a novel upside down. I just had to laugh, she looked so serious. Then it hit me; replace the sippy cup with an adult bevarage, and that could be me, any night of the week after she's gone to bed.

Like mother, like daughter, huh?

*Not a typo, but a pun! Aren't I clever?!

Let's Make a Deal

2006-03-03T15:59:00.000-05:00

I'll do spring cleaning this weekend, if spring will just hurry up and get here already!

Back to Plan B

2006-03-02T11:22:00.000-05:00

Yep, it's fallback time. This time my random number generator came up with number 75.

I was an extra in a movie once. You've probably never seen it.

It was the summer before my freshman year in high school. I was still young and optimistic enough to think I'd be able to be a famous actress when I grew up. I checked the newspaper religiously for auditions and casting calls. Turns out one day there was a cattle call for extras for a movie being shot in Indianapolis. It called for you to dress in 1950's-style clothing and show up at noon. I called one of my friends from drama club, and we convinced my parents to take us.

I put my poodle skirt on, drama buddy found some tight-fitting jeans and a plain white tee, and my parents drove us to a rundown part of town, to a huge warehouse. Everything was set up in the parking lot. We waited in line with a couple hundred other people, filled out a questionaire, and had our pictures taken. After that it was waiting anxiously by the phone to see if they wanted us.

Luckily, I got the call. Unluckily, drama buddy did not. We think the reason he didn't get called was because he put that he was not willing to cut his hair to be in the movie. He was very proud of his long, luxurious hair. Anyway, they gave me a date and a location, and told me to be there at 6 a.m. for wardrobe. I felt like a star already.

On the appointed day, the last day of summer vacation, I showed up, got an outfit (no socks), had my hair and make-up done, and voila! I looked like an 11-year old. Seriously, they gave me this little sailor shirt, and put my hair in pigtails. I was mortified, because we all know how 14-year olds are up on their dignity. But at the same time I was thrilled because I was actually going to be in a movie!

My parents and I had done some research on the movie before we got there. We knew one of the guys from Twister, Jeremy Davies, was going to be in it, some other no-name guy (who turned out to be Ben Affleck, but this was before even Good Will Hunting had come out), Rose McGowan (whom I was super-excited about, being a Marilyn Manson fan at the time), Amy Locane, Rachel Weisz, and two other actresses that my parents thought were pretty neat, Jill Clayburgh and Leslie Ann Warren. (I know, with all these names, how was this movie such a bomb?!) The movie was titled Going All the Way, and it was about two G.I.'s coming home from the Korean War.

The day was kind of a bust. I worked for 12 1/2 hours, got humongous blisters (remember the no socks thing?), and got paid $40. On the plus side, now that he's famous, I can say I met Ben Affleck (he was a total jerk). Plus the other extras, which were more who we hung out with, were really fun. There was a couple there who knew how to swing dance, and were more than happy to perform for us. They're actually who started my interest in swing dancing. And there were a few other girls around my age that were really nice. Of course, we all made wild promises about how we would keep in touch and all that, but it never happened.

Since then, I bought the movie. You can see my arm in one scene, and my back in another. Way exciting, huh? I've never even been able to watch the movie the whole way through. It can't hold my interest at all. Of course, I haven't tried in a couplel years. Maybe I should go do that now. Hmm...where did I store that?

Rush hour

2006-03-01T10:48:00.000-05:00

Mornings are so excruciating for me. To start, I sleep like the dead. I have yet to meet an alarm clock that will wake me up. So it falls upon SO to wake me up. 9 times out of 10, he wakes me up late. He then gets mad at me if I fail to help him getting the little one ready, even though he's been up an hour longer than me and playing online. I think part of that might be my fault though, as he is very, um, creative when it comes to putting together outfits for the baby, and I may or may not have made fun of some of his choices at one point in time. I'm technically supposed to leave the house a half an hour before him, but typically don't leave until about 10 minutes after him. Luckily, I have a wonderful job that doesn't really care if I'm late or leave early, as long as I get my 40 hours in.

So, catching up... I'm mad that I'm late, SO is mad that I didn't help him, and baby is dressed like Cyndi Lauper in 1984.

The past few mornings have been even worse because the gas station that is directly between our house and the interstate has been closed for remodeling. That means for my morning nicotine and caffiene help, I've had to drive out of my way to the not-so-convenient convenience store. I swear the lady behind me in line today was drunk. As I was walking away, I heard her ask the clerk for "a peck a' Marburo eshra lishe."

And today is the "piéce de resistánce." I get to work and find the girl that I share an office with is quitting smoking today. She's not the easiest person to get along with to begin with, and now this. She's going cold turkey, no less. So the ground around my desk has now been liberally applied with eggshells that I'll have to walk on for the next couple days.

Catching up again...I'm mad, SO is mad, Cyndi Lauper baby, drunk rednecks, and bitchy coworker.

Looks like it's shaping up to be a fabulous day, huh?

The day of excess

2006-02-28T08:44:00.000-05:00

Well, Fat Tuesday is upon us again. If I were to actually give something up for Lent, or had enough money to go back to New Orleans, I might care. This day always does make me think of my one trip down to New Orleans, even though it wasn't during Mardi Gras.

It was the middle of the summer. The hottest, most humid time of year. Five minutes after getting out of the shower you were so glistening with the moisture in the air and your own sweat that you might as well have not taken a shower at all. Every day it rained, and for the hour after the rainstorm, people would go outside in swarms to enjoy the relative respite from the heat.

I remember one day we were on our way to the mall when the rainstorm happened. We looked like a couple of drowned rats as we made our way inside. And what makes more sense at that point then to go try on $300-$500 dresses that there's no way you'll buy? So of course we head to the Betsey Johnson store. Somewhere I have a picture of us in a couple of B.J. originals, complete with stringy, dripping hair. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that taking pictures in the store was against the rules, too.

One of the other highlights of the trip was when Red took me swing dancing. I had taken lessons before, and it was apparently a weekly thing for her. We went to this place called Rock 'N Bowl, which had a handful of bowling lanes, a full bar, and a live band. I remember it was a rockabilly band that night. We danced and danced until they kicked us out. And then we went to a diner to hang out with some of the other "regulars." I got to meet and dance with one of the guys that was in the Gap swing-dancing commercial. He and I continued the night privately after the diner. I'd give more details of that, but a lady doesn't kiss and tell. ;)

I also remember the night my cousin took me out to spend some one-on-one time together. We both ate a couple hits of acid, and took off for the French quarter. I don't remember a whole lot of particulars about that night, but I do remember lots of dancing and laughing. At one point we forgot where we had parked the car, and were just wandering around waiting for our next adventure to pop up. Earlier in the week, we had stopped at a gas station, and my cousin had told me that it was a place you didn't want to go after dark. So we're wandering around the Quarter at about 3 in the morning, drugged out of our minds, and I look up and we're at that exact gas station! Not the most pleasant feeling in the world for an overprotected suburbanite like myself. Later in the evening/morning, we wound up in the park, watching the sun rise over the Mississippi River. It was beautiful, in spite of the smell, and it's one of my favorite memories of my life. Everything was so tranquil, the partying was over, there was just such a sense of peace. It was a wonderful way to end my week in New Orleans.

Punk Rock Revenge

2006-02-27T09:14:00.000-05:00

Yeah, that was the name of the show Saturday night. I had a blast! Of course, I made a drunken raving idiot of myself, but hey, at least I kept people entertained. Some of the hightlights of the night were...

me, already wasted, wanting to have an Irish carbomb drinking contest with the guitarist of the headlining band.
SO broke his toe, but doesn't remember how.
I got a fat lip, but I do remember how. The backup vocalist of the headlining band shoved his mic in my face when I was singing along with one of their songs and hit me in the mouth.
SO's band actually got paid! Actually, I'm the "manager" (in quotes because I'm honestly not sure what that means. I think they just gave me the title because guys are in charge of booking most of the time, and since I have breasts I can ingratiate myself a little bit better than they can.) Anway, the guy in charge of Punk Rock Night approached me about pay, and I told him to give our cut to the other bands, since they were both from out of town and had travel expenses. Once again, one of the guys from the headlining band came to us and insisted we take a share.
Can you tell yet that I have a silly crush (for lack of a better word) on the headlining band. They were really good, and they were really cool guys, too. Check them out, Destroy Everything. (One of them, Hanover Fist, kept hitting on me. Had I been single, he would've been hard to resist. He plays the fucking harmonica! In a punk band!)
Um, my drunken shananigans are slipping through the seive of my memory. I know some other cool and fun stuff happened, I just don't remember it.
And the ending of the night went off on a bad note. One of my best friends, JCunt, came home to find her cat dragging a whole leg. The cat was old and on it's last legs anyway, but that had to be the night she got put down. Poor thing (both the cat and JCunt). I felt so bad.

So, once again, check out Destroy Everything, and check out my SO's band as well, they finally got their shit together enough to at least get a mySpace profile.

Insomnia's a bitch

2006-02-24T23:51:00.000-05:00

I'll apologize ahead of time if I don't make a lot of sense tonight. I'm running on 3 hours sleep, and those were a long time ago, yet I can't fall asleep. So I figured I'd elaborate on another of my "100 things" insights. Random number generator, don't fail me.

48. I hate being talked down to.

Aah, one of my SO's biggest complaints about me is that I'm too sensitive about this. And with him, really, I am. I like learning new things, but I hate appearing unknowledgeable around him, and I have a hard time letting him teach me things. It really, really frustrates him.

I think the root of this goes back to growing up. Whenever I did one of those horrible things kids do in the process of learning how to make their own mistakes, my dad would rage around the house and yell "Are you stoo-pid?" at me. (Which, if I can go off on a tangent for a minute, does not mean that I had a bad relationship with my father. In fact, I was quite a Daddy's girl. He just expressed concern and worry through anger. I'm also not one of those people who thinks their parents screwed them up for life. My parents were, and still are, very loving and supportive; and I don't know what I'd do without them. Wow. Long tangent.) Anyway, I always really resented being called stupid, because both my dad and I knew that I'm an intelligent girl. In fact, I was a bit of a know-it-all.

Another factor in this is the fact that I look a lot younger than my age. I'm twenty-something, and still get carded going into R movies. So people, especially older people, tend to take a very patronizing attitude with me at times. And it drives me crazy!

Wow, this was a really meandering and meaningless post. Hopefully, the random number generator is more kind next time.

Anywhere but here

2006-02-24T10:19:00.000-05:00

I'm a little bit too young to really be considered a child of the 80's, and a little bit too old to really be considered a child of the 90's. This is pretty indicative of my entire life. Never really one or the other, but a little bit of both. Which made last night fucking amazing. I finally got a chance to go see Nine Inch Nails in concert.

Okay, in the aspect of I've wanted to see these guys perform for years, it was completely awesome. Trent Reznor's voice was so powerful and emotional...it's hard to describe. He's everything a musician is supposed to be. You can sense his passion for music in every note, and his passion for performing in every step he takes on stage.

But on the other hand, the concert also made me feel old, and presented yet another one of my childhood "idols" that was seen up close and personal, and found lacking. There were several points in the evening where the band was noticeably out of time with each other. And if I, who knows nothing about music, noticed it, I'd hate to think what an actual musician would say about it. And then (to take it on a very superficial level), Trent looks like he's trying to channel Henry Rollins, but it's not working so well. You can tell he's been working out, his arms are very muscular, but he's added some other weight that definitely is something other than muscle, right around his tummy area. (Yes, I did just say tummy while talking about NIN; bite me.)
Other concert notes:

It was fun laughing at all the skanky concert ho's who went in the leather miniskirts and hot pants. It's fucking February in Indiana - do you want frostbite?
I went with my cousin and his wife and it was fun getting to catch up with them. And reminisce. I never realized how many damn stories we have.
I swear I had an orgasm during "Reptile." Not only was the song amazing, but I was sitting on the arm of a chair, and the vibrations...well, you know the semantics, I'm sure.

Alright kids, high school was a long time ago

2006-02-23T09:03:00.000-05:00

Two of my closest friends have told me diametrically opposing stories. Now I'm in the rough spot of deciding which of my best friends is lying to me. And all of it about something that may or may not be a rumor. The worst part of it is, the two people concerned are 34 and 40. Way too old to be this immature. And I have no reason to disbelieve either of them. The easy way out of this would be to tell them both to fuck off, because, really, who wants friends that you can't trust, but I won't take the easy way out. I'll stay friends with both and take everything that both of them say with a grain of salt. Which is really unfair to whoever happens to be telling the truth, but everyone has to pay for someone else's lie. Creep.

I heard an interesting concept today. Someone was comparing love to a drink, and talking about the different components that make it up. So I decided to make my own love cocktail. Take 1/3 lust, 1/3 trust, and 1/3 companionship, with a splash of humor, shake and serve over ice. Granted, that's a lot simplified, because there are infinite little things that make up each of those big things, but I think that pretty much sums love up for me.

I've got cabin fever so bad. The little one went to spend the night with my parents last weekend, and I came to realize how sad my social life (or lack thereof) really is. My daughter, who's not even two, had somewhere to go on a Saturday night, but I didn't. I guess I should get used to that before she gets to the teenage stage though, huh?

My workdays are so productive

2006-02-16T16:02:00.000-05:00

The vice-president of our company was talking about his trip to the deli today, describing the ladies that were in front of him in line. He described them as "the type of women that wear ponytails, even though they're too old for it." This came as highly shocking news to me! There comes an age past which you cannot wear ponytails for fear of being ridiculed? How do I know when this age comes? Do you get a letter on your birthday, "Happy Birthday! No more ponytails for you! Oh, and you better start wearing practical shoes, too, by the way."? What will I do after that point on days I sleep in? When I'm doing spring cleaning? If I go to work out? (Yeah, like I work out so often. Pshh.) I can only hope that I won't embarass myself and my daughter by clinging to youth for too long.

I got hit on at the post office. Doesn't that seem like a strange place to get hit on? Why didn't I think of it back when I was single?! Me and the girls, instead of going out to fun clubs and rocking parties, could've just gone to the local post office. What were we thinking?

I'm developing a severe love/hate relationship with paydays. I love it because, obviously, I get paid. But I'm growing to hate it because getting paid just serves to remind me how broke I really am. I suppose I should learn to just relish the two hours every other week that I actually have some money. Who cares that it all gets to go to the government, and the utility companies, and the grocery store, and the oil cartels? At least I earned it! My blood, sweat, and tears (and hours spent reading blogs) have paid off at last!

Yes, this is really what my workday is like. Someday, whether by choice or chance, I'll be a stay-at-home mom, and then things'll probably only get weirder.

Saints and such

2006-02-14T11:13:00.000-05:00

Of course, everyone's heard by now that Dick Cheney shot his hunting buddy. I have to say, the part that surprised me the most about this story was not that D.C. shot somebody, but that he has friends!

It's St. Valentine's Day. Why is it that outside of the Catholic community, this and St. Patrick's Day are the only Saints days to be celebrated? There's got to be some cooler saints to celebrate. What about Saint Irene day? Saint Irene was condemned to a bordello but remained unmolested despite being chained and naked. We could celebrate with bondage. "Spank me, it's St. Irene Day!" Wouldn't that be a cute button?

Yes, I joke about the "holiday" and firmly believe that it wouldn't be so popular if it wasn't such a cash cow, but I'll still get mad at SO if he doesn't show some special gesture. Isn't that so hypocritcal of me? Not that I really care. Here's the quandary: I have no idea what to get him. I had the luck of landing one of 3 males that are REALLY, REALLY good at gift giving. Ladies who complain about getting bad gifts: stop complaining. At least you know you're gift will always be better. It's so much stress buying for a good gift-giver. He asked for a computer game, but I don't know about that. Nothing says romance like software that'll make you ignore me for hours at a time.

Our little metropolitan is so exciting that the lead story on the news last night was that John Mellencamp is in the planning stages for a concert downtown. Oooo! In a way though, that makes me happy. At least the lead story isn't about a murder, or rape, or other horrible crime. Life may be boring in Indiana, but it's relatively safe too. The bad with the good, y'know?

Oh, by the way, for those who're curious...
St. Irene's Day is March 30th.

Nothing to do, nowhere to go

2006-02-10T16:43:00.000-05:00

I'm bored at work, so I thought I'd go ahead and elaborate on my first post. I used a random number generator to determine which random facet of my life I would be discussing in detail and came up with number...6.

My SO is in a band, and I couldn't be prouder of him. They sound kind of like the Subhumans, but without the accent.

Yeah, a local punk band called Pipe Bomb. There's 4 guys. Vocals, Bass, Guitar, and Drums. Loud, fast, and angry. It's probably not fair of me to compare them to the Subhumans, though. But they do cover one Subhumans song, "No" and sound damn good. My SO is the vocalist. They've got two shows coming up, one on Feb. 25th and one on April 26th. The show in April is a really big opportunity for them, because they're playing with the Murder Junkies.

They're all lined up to record the week before their next show. Not too bad for a band with no aspirations other than to play some local venues, maybe some surrounding cities, and have a little fun.

I wouldn't want to give you the wrong impression

2006-02-10T11:50:00.000-05:00

I'm in my mid-twenties, a home-owner, and a mother.
I'm the girl who's content to sit in the corner and watch. I don't need the attention.
My family's happiness is my happiness.
I know the world isn't rainbows and sunshine. Shit happens.
I love music.
My SO is in a band, and I couldn't be prouder of him. They sound kind of like the Subhumans, but without the accent.
I don't subscribe to organized religion.
Lots of people would think that I'm immoral.
I have no idea what I want to be when I "grow up."
I have artistic vision, but no artistic talent.
I love tattoos.
I can no longer wear contacts due to medical reasons.
I'm a fish out of water.
I've never been in jail. (Knock on wood.)
I support equality.
I love outdoor sports. Kayaking, caving, rock-climbing, etc.
I'm a pushover.
I abhor bad manners.
I know how to swing dance.
I'm prone to getting sick.
My heritage is part-Irish, part-English and part-Gypsy.
I love learning.
I'm a bit of a clothes horse.
I'm a very picky eater.
One of my biggest pet peeves is when people mispronounce words. Like "nuke-u-lar" for nuclear and "an-tie-thee-sis" for antithesis.
I've never travelled outside of the country.
I want to be a pirate.
I have one whole semester of college under my belt.
I'm a recovering drug addict.
I always play the role of peace keeper.
I love animals.
I smoke about a pack a day.
I've always been one of the boys.
I'm a bit of a conspiracy theorist.
I'm horrible at math.
I have some self-esteem issues, but not that bad.
I'm trying to learn Gaelic.
I pathologically make to-do lists.
I've worked in customer service for 7 years.
I did two years in collections, too. Ugh!
I love whiskey.
I have yet to find a beer I like.
I'm brutally honest.
I have never ordered anything advertised in spam email.
I have never been in an abusive relationship.
I was raised by two overprotective parents out in the suburbs.
It takes a lot to offend me.
I hate being talked down to.
I'm a sucker for romance.
Cheesy 80's movies are the best!
I'm terrified of thunderstorms.
I'm not as active as I should be.
I hate washing dishes.
I love my freckles.
The Simpsons is my favorite TV show.
I think older men are sexier than younger men.
I'm more likely to be captivated by an intruiging lyric in a song than I am an intricate guitar riff.
Pepsi is the nectar of the gods.
I still like to color. (And not always with my daughter.)
I like using words like "ubiquitous" and "superfluous" in conversation.
I'm a geek.
I can be shy around new people or large groups of people.
Driving scares me, but I do it anyway.
I'm becoming more fascinated by birds everyday.
I love the way fake nails look, but I hate having them done.
I'd rather go barefoot.
I stole my cousin's bike when I was 10, and promptly wrecked it. I completely believe in karma.
I've had stitches once, but no broken bones. *Knock on wood.*
I'm slightly supersticious.
I love trivia.
I still talk to my first love occasionally.
I'm a sub.
Everyone is either a Beatles person or an Elvis person. I'm a Beatles person.
I once had a chance to meet Bruce Campbell. I didn't take this chance.
I was an extra in a movie once. You've probably never seen it.
I can't stand milk.
People often ask me if I wear colored contacts. No, that's my real eye color.
I get made fun of for the way I pronounce "color."
I can't watch when I get stuck with a needle, whether it be for a tattoo or a medical reason.
My nephew once said that none of his friends in school has a cool aunt like me. I think this was the best compliment I've ever received.
I procrastinate. Badly.
I was on the academic teams in high school.
I carry my camera with me at all times.
I love to fish.
I also love to shoot guns. I've never shot at a living thing, though. Only targets.
I have a cousin who's a pilot and owns a little, tiny private airport down south. He let me fly one of his planes once.
Over the years I've had 5 body piercings, all of which are gone now.
Taco Bell is my favorite fast food.
I really want to travel Europe.
I use really outdated idioms a lot.
I dye my hair out of boredom.
If I'm not at work, chances are good that I'll be wearing a bandanna.
The thing I miss most about living in the country is a good view of the night sky. There're too many lights in the city.
I love unexpectedly hearing from old friends.
I have no internal sense of time, direction, temperature, anything.
I have no patience for ignorance.
I'm not as eco-friendly as I probably should be.
I like dangly earrings.
I'm fascinated and horrified at the same time by serial killers.
I much prefer written (or typed) correspondance to verbal.
I shut people out when I'm angry.

There's my mandatory 101 Things About Me post. I'll try and elaborate on some of these in the future. But I figured it would be a good "Welcome to my blog" type of post, so you could learn a little bit about me.