Hot mess

Thursday after a long day at work D and I are about to settle in for the night, have a beer and dinner, when we realize we have no side dish and have to pick up photos for him to take to his family in Florida the next day. Out into the cold once more, we head to Walgreen's. In and out that's the plan, in and out like a flash, one stop shopping all that jazz, get back to his place for coziness and relaxation.

We pick up the photos and look for green beans, (What? They don't have green beans at Walgreen's?!) we had to settle for the $1.29 Budget Gourmet Mac and Cheese (surprisingly good by the way for a processed cheese food). As we were walking away from the "frozen food section", I spied the snack foods. Trail mix and macadamia nuts and wasabi soy almonds, cashews and honey roasted peanuts. Holy jackpot of snack foods....I'm lured by their salty goodness. D gives me the "This is supposed to be in and out!" look. "But!But! Honey! I love the snack food! I need it for my lunch anyway! This is saving time!" Of course it takes me a minute to decide, I keep changing my mind, D is laughing trying to pull me away. I finally grab the plain old boring almonds, still very tasty and they are good for me, at least that's what I tell myself.


We get to the checkout line, after some kicking and screaming; "What do you mean I can't have one of each?". By now the line is long and the customer checking out is arguing with the cashier about why he can't use his computer print out coupons for $1 off Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nice try buddy, now cough up the dough and go eat your cereal, or don't, just get out of the line.


We wait for Cinnamon Toast Crunch man and wait some more for the 3 other customers. For the love! I want to go home and have a beer and eat my Budget Gourmet Mac and Cheese. At last D pays for his purchase and waits for me to check out.


The cashier rings me up, " $4.15," she says cheerily. I begin to dig in my purse for my check card (I rarely carry cash), dig dig dig. Why didn't I get it out already? dig dig dig Come on where are you stupid card, everyone is waiting?! dig dig dig "Uh, hold on, I'm sorry I can't find my card," I sweetly say to everyone, though too afraid to look up to see the dirty glares. dig dig dig This is so embarassing. Just walk away, just walk quickly away. dig dig dig No, no. What if they call the seciurty guard? It has to be in here. I am just about to dump my whole purse, girl paraphernalia, beat up chap sticks, mints covered in dirt and all, when D makes a move to grab his wallet. D! I desperately look at D "Honey help, I can't find my card." "I got it. Don't worry love," he says, much to my and the now long line's relief. "Thank you! I swear this was not a ploy to get free almonds," I give a little smile.



I continue to dig as we are walking out of the store. "Where in the heck did I put that thing? I can't find my drivers license either!" I panic. "Oh no! My car just got rifled through yesterday what if I left it in there?" "Don't worry I'm sure we'll find it, where is the last place that you had it?" "I don't know, I can't remember!" panic panic panic "Well, what did you do yesterday?" he says calmly. "I didn't use it yesterday, I just went to work and then came to your place!" panic panic.


D patiently walks me through every day like this, while I am panicing and snapping off answers, until we come to Monday. "What did you do Monday?" "Monday, what did I do Monday? I went to the bank, but I remember putting it back in my wallet!" Still patient with no sign of frustration that this is delaying the whole coziness relaxzation plan "Well, what did you wear Monday?" Loudly I reply, "Monday! What did I wear Monday? Oh yea I wore my baggy jeans I remember because Marco said I looked "chill"!" " Baggy Jeans! Baggy jeans!"suddenly I have Tourette's. Calmly he asks "Where are your baggy jeans?" "At my place!"I reply as if he is deaf. "Ok lets go to your place," he patiently says. I wish aloud, "Please for the love be in my pocket!! In my pocket!!"

I drive quickly to my place, race up the slippery metal steps, unlock the door and run to my bedroom. I grab my baggy jeans and squeeze the pockets I feel the hard plastic shape of my card and id. I pull out the card and id, kiss them and do a happy dance and sing "Why don't I just put you back where you belong?!" D is laughing "Silly woman." I hug him, "How the hell were you so patient?" "Because I do the same thing all the time."

We both do the same thing all the time. In fact if you are waiting for us to meet you, and we are late, we are probably having fun- looking for something one of us lost.

Snooze

I am convinced that the 9 minutes hitting the snooze button is supposed to give you is really only 2 minutes.

Bread....

I'm not sure when this bread obsession first began to occur. But I've started to realize I dream about bread quite often.



The other night I dreamt that D and I were out having dinner. When we finished eating we left a tip on the table for the waitress, sixteen dollars. I happened to look back as we walked away and saw a man seated at another table reach over and grab the cash. I ran over to him and snatched the money out of his hand. He began to curse me out, he happened to be a donor that actually had cursed me out that day in reality(more on that in another blog), as I was running back to the kitchen to find the waitress.



That's when I made a fabulous discovery. In the middle of the floor sat a large shiny gum ball machine. This was one of the fancy ones that sends the gumball down a spiral slide with blinking lights and wheels turning. Only this was no gumball machine. No, it made and dispensed croissant bagels. Imagine a croissant shaped into a bagel, with a crusty inside to spread butter upon and the rest is soft and flaky like a croissant.

Bursting with excitment and watching as the croissagels were made then grabbing them with already full hands, I began to look for a bag, when D came and had to drag me away from the machine.

Where are you croissagel machine?

When Monday is Sunday....

Well folks lets just say that if every Monday is like this Monday I will soon need bigger pants!

My new schedule at work has me working every Tues through Sat. So Monday is my new Sunday. Yippee! Only everyone is working so that leaves me to entertain me! So today I decided that entertainment was best found in the kitchen. In the kitchen shoving food in my face to be more exact.

OK well maybe that is not completely true. Marco was off and his parents were in town. They cooked us breakfast; bacon, eggs and biscuits. Normally, I don't eat bacon because every time I eat bacon my stomach decides to do summer salts the rest of the day. Well I didn't want to be rude (no, it had nothing to do with the fact that the bacon smelled good) so I ate the bacon, and as it always does my stomach decided to do cartwheels and back hand springs and other acrobatics.

Being the educated nurse that I am, I decided my best recourse would be to pour lots of hot coffee on top of the bacon. Maybe it will melt the bacon and make my belly feel better. So after 3 cups of coffee I am bouncing off the walls and my stomach is still not happy.(at this point Marco's parents leave and Marco goes to take a shower) I know, I'll confuse the stomach, how about little spice bombs? Handful of wasabi peas... down you go! Well now it's just a war zone in there. What I need is something to absorb all the craziness. Mmmm pineapple upside down cake; that's absorbent right? The upside down cake was pretty damn tasty so I couldn't just eat one bite...oh no!!! I had a huge piece, then I felt all jittery. Too much sugar too much sugar! How about some fiber or protein? I got it! A peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread. At this point my stomach did start to feel a little better, but my throat, my throat was dry. Too much peanut butter.... need liquids! Milk, that's it milk! But you know what goes good with milk? Frosted Flakes! After the frosted flakes I decided; what better time to polish off that box of Brown Sugar Frosted Mini Wheats? Three bowls of cereal later Marco gets out of the shower and sees my misery ridden face. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" I recount what I had just eaten. "Holy shit are you crazy!? "You left me alone in here!! What else was I supposed to do?" He just shook his head and walked in his room.
Ugh.. Monday/Sunday...... I now declare you Workout All Day Day!!

Gettin squirrely

As I was proofreading that blog, a squirrel flew into my window and scared the crap out of me (I am on the second floor) he then proceeded to peer into the window as if looking for his nuts. "I don't have your nuts Mr. Squirrel!" He is still looking in the window right now as I am writing this. It's a little strange. That's a big leap for a little guy. Anyway, that reminded me of a dream I had the other night. Where I was helping a porcupine get ready for court. I was telling him to wear a suit not his jeans. Now I'm really behind... but I'm trying to work on this procrastination problem! He is still squirreling around my window. "I don't have your damn nuts!"

Procrastination

I realized many months, no make that many years ago, that I am a horrible procrastinator. (note the just getting around to writing about it now) Maybe not horrible, horrible has such a negative connotation (procrastinator yes, Polly prissy pants no), how about wonderful? I am a wonderful procrastinator.

I was sitting about yesterday in my normal procrastinator mode; I should clean something, nah, why clean today when I can do it tomorrow as I run about the house preparing for my first day at my new job? That will be a much better use of my time, when I can add procrastination to scatterbrained (a loving term my Mom uses for me) and have a fun filled morning! I will already be scurrying to and fro like a puppy with too many toys.... Where are my socks? Where are my shoes? Where is my nursing license? I'm hungry. I should make some toast. Walk to the toaster. Oh yea I left my wash in the washer, shoot! Walk to the washer. Open the door to unload the washer. I want to listen to some music. Leave the washer open. Look for computer. Turn on computer. Shoot, my clothes! Walk back to washer. Begin to move clothes from washer to dryer. Dang, (yes I really say dang, it's a fun word to say) I didn't hit play. Walk back to computer. Hit play. Gee I'm hungry. Where is my toast? Oh yea I didn't put any toast in the toaster. Walk towards the toaster. Oh, my clothes. Turn towards the washer. Ah, but the bread can be toasting while I finish unloading the washer. Put bread in the toaster. Walk back to the washer, manage to finish loading the dryer. This is so much fun, I should blog about this. Log on to the Internet. Oh yea I want to add some pictures to my Facebook. Look for my camera. Bring my camera to the computer. Hear the toast pop up. Uh, I would have to get off the stool for that. Feel stomach growl. Sip coffee instead. Start to write blog. Hear text message ding. Read text message. Respond to text message. Receive next text message. Respond to text message. Go back to writing blog. Stomach growls. Look longingly at toast. I can eat you on the way out the door. Oh Facebook. Nah that will have to wait. Look at time at bottom of computer screen. Shit!! I still need to shower and clean and eat and find nursing license and shoes and for the love will I ever get organized and finish this damn blog....

Flapper monkey

I had a wonderful dream the other night of a happy little monkey. He had a coconut for a head with white painted eyes and smile. His limbs moved like one of those toys were you push the base with your thumb and the animal collapses, and he was happily doing the Charleston.

Old coat

I went to the thrift store the other day, in search of a winter coat, hoping to find one that looks nice and is well.. thrifty. A girl has to have a budget these days.

So I made what I thought was a good purchase. It's a tan colored corduroy coat with a white fuzzy collar. Okay so it is a boys coat, but all the girl coats were too big or too tiny or in some crazy print that made me dizzy when I looked at it. I have a hard enough time walking as it is, I don't need a coat making me dizzy there by increasing my fall potential. So I handed the cashier my $5 and out the door I went, fluffy boy coat in hand.

When I got home I tried on my coat again, it was a little big, but it was warm. I modeled it for Marco, "How lame do I look?" pause while I look at his face "Wait don't answer that!" Laughter.
"Good call," he said. As I was walking to the mirror to take a second look Marco so kindly informs me "Uh, did you know there is a stain on the back?" "What?" (dang that dim thrift store lighting) "What does it look like?" I hear more laughter from the peanut gallery, "Giz!" (nice technical term I know) "What!?" I turned to check it out for myself "Oh my god! I'm freaking Monica Lewinsky??" "Well just tell people it's bleach!" "It is bleach!" "Well then don't worry about it."

Easy for him to say. I tried not to worry about it, but I did. I shouldn't be allowed to purchase clothing from the thrift store without supervision, and the Monica coat... it keeps my bar stool nice and warm.

So now what?

"No no no, this is perfectly normal, your skin is supposed to be falling off. See if you have no skin then you have no wrinkles." I laughed trying to soothe this poor sobbing woman desperate to be young again. So desperate that she would let me put acid on her face, she would let me burn her face with a laser, she would let me inject a toxin into her muscles, she would spend any amount of money to obtain beauty while her bills piled up. She actually told me that should could not pay her mortgage that month and in the next breath she asked, "Do you have any cream to help the dark circles under my eyes?" I suggest paying your bills and getting a good night sleep, or you can buy this $100 cream that might work. There she was looking to me for a miracle and all I could do was soothe her with false platitudes and expensive procedures.

Hearing those words from my lips woke me up. I hated my job! But I was making good money, so now what?

Feeling Blue?

Try a hula hoop!

I am hula hooping on the median of Granby street, next to the lady that started hula hooping on the median of Granby street. I am smiling and laughing. She looks me in the eye, smiles and says "Fun isn't it?" "Yes!"

"I don't even know your name," I say to her. "I make food not stick, I'm Pam, feel my abs." I feel her abs, they are hard as a watermelon with flesh. "Feel my shoulder, it has pins in it," she tells me as she grabs my hand, places it on her shoulder and makes her shoulder pop in and out. "This is as far as my arms go behind my back," she demonstrates, her hands don't touch behind her back, no way for handcuffs to be applied. "They forced them on me," she continues to tell me how she was forcefully arrested a few weeks ago.

Arrested and tazed, the happy hula hoop lady on Granby street. Doesn't make sense to me. Pam was in a car accident 30 years ago on prom night. She suffered brain damage. The doctors said she would never walk or talk again. She is walking. She is talking. Most days she is hula hooping on the median of Granby street.

People driving by are honking and waving. I know all the days I have driven past Pam, I have smiled, sometimes waved. This time I drove by feeling blue and saw lots of hula hoopers, I smiled. I made a u turn, parked, grabbed my favorite red camera and started snapping pictures. That is when Fame a young man from Balitmore said "Come on just grab a hoop!" So I grabbed a hoop. Fame and I laughed as it took me a few trys to remember how to hula hoop. "This is my first day hula hooping," Fame laughed some more.

Fame told me that he and his friend Noel drove all the way from Baltimore to be here. They heard Pam's story and decided to come join the rebel Granby street hula hooper. We didn't talk much after that, we just laughed and hooped. The sun was shining a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

Hula hooping on the median of Granby street. Happiness.

Photos of the week.

A few of you know that I am taking a photography class. Well I am going to post my weekly photo assignment for your ocular enjoyment. Tell me what you think. (Also if you know an easier way to upload more than one photo at a time that tell me that too. I've been here for an hour and I'm going to kick this computer across the room soon. It never listens to me!)

Last weeks assignment was black and white. I've added some of the color versions for comparison.

wascally waccoon

A few months ago, I dreamt that the raccoons in the abandoned house next door to me renovated a house and sold it to D and I. People scoffed saying rational things like "A, raccoons are too A.D.D. to tile a bathroom!"
Well what about a few water damaged pieces of laminate floor? If he can find ways to enter the house next door surely his little paws can fix a few bubbles. I will pay him in garbage. In fact I think more animals should get into the construction business. Low cost housing, less pollution, and they would provide hours of entertainment.
So at any rate, after six long months of either not having a camera or not being fast enough, I finally caught one on film. Happiness.

body image Bullshit

When I weigh 146 I hate my thighs. When I weigh 140 I hate my breasts. Can a girl ever be satisfied?

It's Orange Cup Day

Orange Cup Day is the day of the week that I look in the cupboard for a coffee cup and sitting out in front is my favorite orange cup. Nothing can go wrong on Orange Cup Day; running late for work, hit traffic, get cut off by inconsiderate people... doesn't matter... it's Orange Cup Day!

I bought the orange cup from a Dollar Store in Portland Oregon, while I was living in a hotel room. It's just a plain orange cup with little brown streaks on it (helping to camouflage the coffee i spill on its sides), and smooth grooves that my fingers fit into (no need to stick out my pinky). It's simple and lovely. It's happiness made into a cup.

first day of class

The first day of class is almost much easier when you're 30. Maybe it has nothing to do with my age but the fact that the professor is one of my best friends. Whatever the reason I didn't stress at all about what I was going to wear.. OK so I'm lying. I did change my outfit twice... What the hell do I care really? I just didn't want it to be too obvious that I am so much older than everyone else. I asked to borrow my roommates book bag, threw on my most comfortable jeans and a black scoop necked shirt. Then I asked my roommate "How do I look?" "Lame!" I think was his reply, then something about me being one of the preppy kids. "What? I'm not preppy at all, I'm a complete dork! What are you talking about?" "I'm kidding you dork! Why do you care anyway?" "I don't know, that's part of me being a dork, I care about stupid shit, just give me your book bag!" As I walk out the door I can still hear him laughing.
I get to the campus and change my parking spot three times for fear of getting a ticket. Finally, I call D to come put some change in the meter for me(Thanks D!) and make my way to class. We have to wait in the hall for the previous class to let out. I sit in the hall and read the novel I brought along. Occasionally looking up at the other students. 'Why is that guy staring at me? Is he looking at my crows feet? He thinks I'm ancient! Why is he smiling? Is my zipper down?(I have an irrational fear that my zipper is always down i'll save that for another blog) Chill out just read your book!' So I read some more and see my friend/professor pass by in the hall. I am not supposed to know her so I keep reading. 'I am such a good actress, look no one can tell we are friends, I could win an Emmy!' We all walk into class and I pick a seat close to the front. The room is packed and I am pretty sure I am sitting next to the smelliest kid in class. I spend most of the class leaning as far to the right as possible and covering my nose. He is nice though and we have to compare thoughts on pieces of art that are projected on stage. We break and I contemplate changing seats but I end up back in the same one,leaning to the right, partially because I am not sure if everyone sits in the same seats for the rest of the semester and partially because I would rather sit next to a smelly nice kid then some nice smelling asshole. Class is interesting and I take notes and I'm a little disappointed when it's over, though my butt is happy. Do they make those seats uncomfortable on purpose? I walk back to my car, happy that no one pointed and laughed at me, happy that I apparently still have some neurons firing up there, happy that at 30 I'm finally going to college, even if it's not legit.

Busy girl

Well I decided that my calender was not full enough. So now I am taking an Art History course on Mondays, Belly dancing on Tuesdays,and Photography on Wednesdays. I'm also thinking of squeezing piano in there somewhere! That leaves me with little time to blog. But I keep thinking of things to blog about. So keep checking I'm working on it!

Mmmmm Toast

Last night I dreamt that I was piece of toast. I was sitting beside the butter and I was searching for a butter knife, but all I could find were steak knives... ???

Thank you Hanna

Most of you know about the recent hurricane Hanna, that down graded to a tropical storm, that down graded to an excuse to sit inside drinking while watching a drizzling rain. What you haven't heard about is the one victim of Hanna; Buddy, the faceless fisherman. The picture I'm posting is pretty graphic, if you have small children you may want them to leave the room.

Buddy was minding his own business, standing in the corner of my balcony like he does every day. When Hanna came along and well, Buddy didn't fair so well.

Buddy's story is a typical story of a completely useless Christmas gift.... It was 1997, and I was nineteen and had just started my first job as a nurse. My pay jumped from $5.15 an hour to $8.75, holy happy Christmas! What was I going to do with all that cold hard cash? I know,I will buy my Mom a really special awesome gift. What to get? What to get? I don't know, Mom has everything already. Then the ABC catalog fell in my lap and it held the answer. For those of you that don't know, the ABC catalog is a wonderful catalog full of useless crap, like a large plastic goose that you can put in your front yard and dress for the seasons. I'm serious, the goose comes with an outfit for every season. That was too much, I knew my Mom would not change a goose outfit. I kept flipping the pages and that's when I came across Buddy. Buddy was a doll that stands in the corner like a child being punished, he also happened to be dressed as a fisherman, pole and all. Mom likes to fish, Mom likes dolls, Mom used to make me stand in the corner. SHE IS GOING TO LOVE THIS!! It was perfect, I put in my order and stroked a check for $19.95, then anxiously awaited Buddy's arrival. A week later I had Buddy and a roll of red Christmas paper, and I carefully wrapped him and his pole(shut up pervs). I placed Buddy under the tree and proceeded to taunt my mom. "Mom, I know what you're getting and you're going to LOVE it!"
Christmas day came and I was chomping at the bit to have her open her present. But I saved the best for last, so finally after robes and calenders and gift certificates I handed over Buddy. I watched her face as she opened this wonderful present waiting for it to light up. Instead I got the; wow dear a creepy little fisher guy to stand in the corner face. I completely ignored the face and instead focused on the fake mommy tone saying;"Thanks Dear! I Love it!"
"I know, isn't he awesome!? He even has a pole, and worms in his pocket!" (what's not to love really, you can call me sick in the head, it's true enough, but I didn't invent the thing) Mom found Buddy a corner and there he stood quietly being punished (i guess he wasn't supposed to be fishing?) for 10 long years. And then my mom being the devious woman that she is passed Buddy on to me. "Here dear, I thought you would like to have some company on your balcony so I brought you Buddy!"(oh my god!! how did I think that was a good gift? he is so creepy!)

Now I have to pretend that I like the creepy little guy, because I gave him to her and well you know. I did try to protest, "Oh Mom, I could never take Buddy, I know how much he means to you." "No no dear, I think he will look so cute on your balcony."
So there Buddy stood, in the corner of my balcony creeping out my friends, "Uh, what the hell is that thing in the corner?" "Don't ask! He's in trouble just ignore him." Then Hanna came along and saved the day. Buddy was knocked over from the one gust that Hanna brought. Some might say that I could just stand Buddy back up, that he is really OK. But I disagree, I think Buddy would like to rest in peace somewhere other than my balcony. It's his time.

Camera Happiness

I have been reunited with my camera and I am so happy. I think my camera is happy too. If my camera had arms and legs, I'm pretty sure we would have ran slow motion like into each others arms and spun around laughing and crying. Instead my Mom handed me the camera "Here honey, Thanks." She didn't even cry, she wasn't the least bit upset handing over the camera. I don't understand, but I'm not going to question it. I'm just glad to have it back, seeing as it is technically hers.
See the camera and I have a history together. I bought my Mom this sweet Kodak camera with a 10x optical zoom for her to take pictures of birds. Well after a few bird pictures the camera started collecting dust. So I "borrowed" it, and just never gave it back. Then D accidentally left the camera at Harborfest and after a high speed panicked drive back to the scene of the crime, of course it was gone. That's okay though the story has a happy ending. D being the great guy that he is bought me/Mom a brand new shiny red Sony Cybershot. It doesn't have the 10x optical zoom, but it does fit in my pocket and it takes fabulous pictures. I take this camera everywhere. I love this camera! I'm like the paparazzi, I can't stop clicking. Then Mom went on a trip to visit her long lost best friend. Ripping the camera out of my hands, promising me I would get it back soon. (Soon Mom, does not mean over a month!) I have been going out of my mind. At first I was constantly running for my camera, to no avail. I missed all the awesome shots of the family of raccoons in the abandoned house next door. I had to use the little camera in my mind and I can't get the pictures to print. Thanks Mom, hope taking pictures of your long lost best friend was worth it!!! (Raccoons Mom, I missed the raccoons!!)
So at any rate let the camera happiness begin...
Note to Mom-I'm buying you another camera, you can't have this one back....ever! lu

Hmmm.....

Sometimes in the middle of the night I will wake up and write down my dreams or ideas I have to write about. Being the unorganized person that I am, I don't have a nice book or note pad. Instead, there are tiny scraps of paper, bills, old greeting cards, inside of books, basically anything I can manage to write on. Well I was just cleaning out my drawer and reading over these ideas. Some of them are pretty good and I might use, but there was one that was amazingly profound and I just wanted to share it with everyone as it may make you smile like it did me. At the bottom of a detailed list of "deep" thoughts scribbled on a blank greeting card in a single line all on its own was: Don't buy man eating dog. Apparently in my sleep I write fortunes for cookies??

Ugh!

I never eat Fruit Loops, until I am forced to eat Fruit Loops, then I can't stop eating Fruit Loops. No, I was not held at gunpoint or abandoned in a Fruit Loop factory. The other day I threw a birthday party for my friend. At the end of the night/morning we were meant to go to the beach and watch the sunrise and eat breakfast. So I bought lots of cereal. Well the beach part never happened and now I have boxes and boxes of sugar cereal that I normally never eat.... for good reason. Apparently, I can't stop myself once I start. It should be called Fruit Crack! I started with a bowl, but then I had milk left over, I couldn't let that go to waste, so I poured another bowl. Once that was gone I just ate straight from the box like some kind of wild Fruit Loop fiend. I didn't stop until my belly was distended (it did have a cool rainbow glow) and I was rolling around in my bed moaning "Damn you Toucan Sam and your damn addictive fruit goodness! I hope you follow your nose straight to Hell!!!" (ok i don't really want Toucan Sam to go to hell, but I do damn him!) Ugh!.... So does anyone want cereal?

Thoughts at a red light.......

So I was sitting in traffic behind some meat head yesterday, staring out into space, thinking of all the things I had to do when I got home. When my vision focused on his license plate which read: 1 BAMF X ..... BAMF meaning Bad Ass Mother Fucker! It was at this point that I began to laugh and forget all about my laundry at home. Instead I checked out the rest of his BAMF stickers all over his BAMF SUV, tons of stickers with more acronyms and probably some stick man with big muscles I don't know I lost track.

First of all, no one who actually is a BAMF has ever had enough time in between uprooting and bench pressing trees, and ripping phone books in half to consider getting a licence plate proclaiming their BAMF status. (Except for Jules in Pulp Fiction, in which case it was a wallet and it said Bad Mother Fucker, adding the Ass is just lame.)
Second, that means that this goober had to go to the DMV and tell the clerk that he wanted that plate. Which means one day he thought to himself.. "I am such a BAMF!! I should get that on my license plate so I can let everyone else know! That's what I'll do.. I'll stop by the DMV right after I drop off my dry cleaning, and before I go to the gym and make way more noise than necessary while lifting, and drinking copious amount of Mega Ripped Weight Gainers Ultra Muscle Hardcore Protein Fuel."
I can imagine the reaction at the DMV the clerk having to suppress the urge to smack him in the head with his plate while spouting "Wow sir, it's not every day I get to meet a real BAMF can I please take a picture of you?" "Gee your muscles are so huge, how do you keep your shirts from ripping?" Stroking his already swollen ego and watching the vein in his forehead bulge. "Sir you better leave soon or you are not going to fit through the door!" The laughs after he left as she tells her co-workers. "Irene, you'll never believe what that moron just got on his license plate!" I envision a cork board in the break room with pictures of people and their stupid plates. He would be right beside all the girls with the QTPIE plates. I always drive faster to glance at those girls and they are never cute.
Third, he is not only a BAMF, but a BAMF X. The X meaning Xtreme?? Sounds more like a new type of energy drink or flavor of Doritos. I guess he is way too cool to be BAMF 2, no that's not acceptable. But X, well that's like bolding and underlining the BAMF! He can probably rip up two phone books at the same time. He probably ties the trees in knots before benching them. He probably can't wipe his own ass without some kind of arm extension tool. All things that make the women swoon. Idiot! But at least he made me laugh and forget about my laundry for a bit.

So Thank You 1 BAMF X, you make the drive home from work so much more enjoyable.

Dictionary

My alarm goes off and I lay in bed stretching and trying to recall last nights dreams. I haven't even opened my eyes when I hear my downstairs neighbor snoring again. It's a nice snore as snores go, a soft rise and fall of sound that could lull me to back to sleep if I focused on it. I smile a silent giggle, it seems comical that I can hear him. The sound traveling such a long way from his mouth up through his ceiling, through my floor, through my bed and finally to my ears. I wonder if his wife ever nudges him to stop.
I get up and make coffee, play music, fold laundry, open and shut many dresser drawers. My c.d. pauses and still he is snoring. If I can hear him snoring surely he can hear all that racket. What will it take to wake this man? I start to make my bed when I get an idea.
So here I am, standing in my robe holding my Websters Unabridged Dictionary of the English Language out in front of me, intending to drop it and hear all nine pounds (It's true, I weighed it on my bathroom scale) of English Language crash onto the floor. "Drop it! Drop it! Drop it!" I will myself, my arms tingling from the first signs of fatigue. I've been standing here for 2 minutes now, holding the dictionary and listening. Listening to a sound that I can only hear if everything else is quiet.
"It's 7:30am on a Friday he is probably waking up soon anyway! Drop it!"........ "You're not being mean... it's just an experiment! Let the book go!" I think over and over.
The dictionary is getting heavy in my hands, I feel the bottom cover slip past my palm, the pages tickling my fingers. "Just drop it already!" I shut my eyes tight, anticipating the sound. "Here goes!" the book is falling and just in time I shift my arms over so the book lands quietly on my bed. "Damn it! Chicken!"

I storm off to the shower disappointed in my lack of follow through. I mean what did I expect to happen? Am I going to hear him suck air, cough, and then scream, "Did that crazy bitch just drop the Webster's Unabridged Dictionary!?!" Or maybe he will come pounding on my door, "You and your dictionary! Parking lot! Now!" Or stranger yet maybe he will chuck his Webster's Unabridged Dictionary at the ceiling. Then we would take turns throwing our dictionaries and screaming insults, "Big foot!" "Grandpa!" "Cow!" "Pansy!"

What I really think will happen is the dictionary will crash, the snoring will pause, my heart will race. Then I will spend the next two weeks wondering if he hates me for being so loud and obnoxious. I'll consider finding a way to bump into him and apologize in a round about way. "Sorry if I woke you the other day, my dictionary slipped of the bed!" giggle giggle. He'll say "What? I didn't hear anything." But then I will reconsider because what if he calls me out? "It sounded more like you dropped it intentionally!" I don't want to argue with him. Better to just sweep it under the rug and forget it happened. Finally, I'll decide to make him some brownies. I mean brownies undo bad karma right? (In fact if I die someone please fill my coffin with brownies because I'm going to need them.) So I'll bake the brownies, but I'll decide to do some complicated recipe to increase the karma goodness. It will take me 3 hours to make one pan of brownies. Next thing I know I will be staring at my ceiling at 2am wondering who the hell is going to eat my burnt brownies, when the soft sound of snoring will catch my ear and I'll reach for my dictionary.

When a raccoon foot makes me happy.....

It's 7am, I just finished my morning call to my Mom, still in an early morning stupor and longing to crawl back into bed. Gazing into my bathroom mirror willing my hair to dry, I turn on my c.d. player and pull out the multiple appliances it takes to make my hair less wild. Sip my coffee and place the cup back on the sill, I glance out the window and that's when I see it, a tiny raccoon foot. I jump up and almost knock over my coffee. "Yeah raccoon!" I say aloud to no one. Feeling excited I raise the blinds to increase my view and turn off the light to stop the glare on the glass. I start drying my hair as I continue to stare out the window. Watch as the raccoon foot stretches out further and is joined by a raccoon tail. Smile. I sing aloud "Oh cozy raccoon, I knew you were still there! Just stay a few more days until I get my camera back!" My hair is dry now and I start to use the curling iron, look to the mirror to find the next chunk of hair to curl. When it hits me... I am completely happy.. curling my hair in the dark.... because of a raccoon foot.

Pushed

So I started this blog out of boredom. I started this blog not really knowing where it would go. I still don't know where it's going. How could I? My crystal ball has been broken for years.
But being the silly computer illiterate person that I am, I was amazed that I could type in the name of my blog and watch it magically pop up. In fact I did just that, about 20 times after I wrote my first blog. I mean how could they let just anyone have a blog? Shouldn't there be some kind of test first? I kept waiting for it to not pop up. For some message saying "We're sorry your blog has been denied please try again!" But every day it's still here. I even have some readers. OK well one reader that I know of. Hi D, thanks for reading my blog.

Well after my blog stayed I decided to tell some friends. "Guess what?? I started a blog!" Feeling all yippee inside. "I started a blog and you can read it!" Most of my friends giggled and smiled. "That's nice A." Except one friend. One friend said "That's good, I'm glad you're doing that, but.. (ah the but that means everything after the but is what is true) But.. it better be good. Don't just say what you did today, you have to tell a story. It has to be good."

What!? A story? A good Story?? What?? I'm the girl in the AP English class barely scraping by. My papers always returned streaked in red, with a note saying "Your content is good, but (ah the but again) your grammar needs work!" Ah! Damn it to hell! It always sounds good in my brain. Then I try to put it on paper and I don't know what happens. The apostrophes and commas all swirl around in my head and dance and make little comma apostrophe conga lines. It's like I have mental grammar block.
So then I found myself not blogging. Not blogging because, "What if this is not good??" "What if this sucks?" Then D said "I noticed you haven't been blogging." I told him my fear.. his reply "Aw honey, just blog!" Guys always make things so simple. With that in mind I thought "What if this does suck? What are they going to do? Send me to blog hell?" And even if they do, blog hell is probably more fun than(is it than or then?? see what I mean? Ah!)
work.
So at any rate... I decided to listen to my friend and to D. I'm just going to blog while trying to tell a story. Hopefully my grammar will catch up with my brain and people will actually be able to decipher what I am saying.

Perseids Meteor Shower

Six friends at the shore, watching shimmering showers of comet dust illuminate the sky, simply beautiful fun.

DMB =)

DAVE MATTHEWS BAND ROCKED!

My feet are aching wonderfully!! Instruments jamming, lyrics flying, crowd rocking, feet dancing, body swaying, heart racing, sweat dripping, ears euphoric, mouth singing, the violin makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up... Don't Stop!!

Thanks D for taking me to Dave. Love-a

Not tomorrow

Had I known that a simple querulous blog about my boredom at work would have alleviated the problem, I would have started this a long time ago. During the many torturous weeks when making my oatmeal was the most exciting and stimulating part of my work day;

"Should I have thick oatmeal or runny oatmeal? Do I want to use the microwave or the hot water cooler? Will I cut up my banana and add it to my oatmeal or eat it by itself? Should I leave my empty oatmeal cup soaking so I can look forward to washing it later?"

That is pretty exciting stuff. I mean those are important decisions that can affect/effect(someone help me here i can never remember) the rest of my day. After that it's all down hill; answer the phone, play on the Internet. I'm pretty sure time was stopping and mocking me.

"Ha ha woman, you can not will to me to go faster! 11:45 11:45 11:45!!"

Well, that bitch Time sure does speed up when I'm doing something fun like enjoying a relaxing weekend with friends. Then it's "Warp Speed Mr. Zulu!" Next thing I know I'm at work again ready to chew my leg off to keep my brain from certain atrophy. It's like the one time you are driving and you need a red light to do something, and all the lights are green. I've tried to use reverse psychology on red lights too and it never works.

So at any rate... since writing that first blog I have actually had work to do. It's an amazing feeling. Hopefully this blog will bring even more, and I will have to find time to squeeze in my blogging.

First time out

So it is 3 mins to 5.. quitting time, and I have decided to write a blog. Why? Because my job has bored me to tears for the past 7 hours and 57 mins and I want something to look forward to tomorrow.
I don't even know what I am going to write tomorrow. But the fact that I will have to use my brain to construct sentences is exciting.

Well, my 3 mins are up... I'm out of here.. going to kayak with D. This is strange. -a