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