Lazy Stars

Sunday

2006-10-22T20:36:00.000-05:00

The last couple of Sundays, I’ve been visiting the Buckhead Church on Roswell Road. My friend Sean told me about a sermon series that was going on, called “The Star, The Cross and the Crescent”, obviously about Judaism, Islam and Christianity and their relationship to one another. A co-worker, Sandra, attends there and invited me to come with her…and so I went.

The Buckhead Church is vastly different from the church I normally attend; a very formal United Methodist Church that I won’t name….mainly because I would hate for anyone reading this blog to suppose that all my church members write about the unsavory things I do. What I DO love about being United Methodist, is that we take EVERBODY. Every nationality, mixed race couples, old rich folks, young pierced and tattooed folks, unmarried pregnant people, you name it, we’re just glad you’re at church. My particular church is in an old Anglican sanctuary, with Tiffany stained glass windows, ornate carvings and a magnificent pipe organ. Having attended Catholic school, the formality appeals to me. I love the old hymns and find comport in them. Most contemporary Christian music annoys me, as I find it un-compelling and generally lame.

All that aside, I have very much enjoyed attending the Buckhead Church. You have to get there early if you want to find a seat, because it’s filled to capacity. We sing about four songs together with an awesome live band. It’s a bit like having your church songs played by U2 or Coldplay. I enjoy it immensely and find the lyrics to be much like things I think about God when I am alone.

Then, we sit and watch a video of Andy Stanley’s sermon, which is on a one-week delay from his live version at North Point Church. This would be odd, except the video is life sized and very much just like watching a live message. The sermon series has been extremely thought provoking, explaining the intertwined histories of Judaism, Islam and Christianity. And believe me, it doesn’t let anyone off the hook.

At this point, I need to ask myself: do I want to stay at my lovely, traditional, comfortable United Methodist Church, or move on to something new? Here is what I am thinking so far:

My church
Is Beautiful
Sings the majestic old hymns, with an awesome choir
Contains my Sunday School class, whom I adore
Contains more age ranges, social classes, races
Allows women to be in every position of authority, including bishops
Offers infant or adult baptism
Serves communion monthly
Has a VERY educated scholar as a pastor who loves to show us that nuances of old Greek and Aramaic words make all the difference when interpreting scripture

Buckhead Church
Seems to be doing a bang-up job of attracting young people
Located in an auditorium
Employs some fairly rockin’ (non-annoying) rock music
Has more of a charismatic pastor
Doesn’t have Sunday School – except for high school kids and under
Has small groups where people can connect on a closer level
Does not allow women to be Elders (I asked)

And yet something makes me want to go back there. The idea of small groups is appealing; in the way that Sunday School is at my current church. I also worry that I will be made uncomfortable that I am 33 and not married (as I feel a little at my own church anyway). I am also afraid that I won’t find a group for those in the same place in their spiritual journey as I am. I’m not a seeker, I’m already there. Imperfect and struggling though I may be, I already love the Lord. Clearly, I need to do some more exploring about the small groups and continuing education.

Also troubling; I am doubtful I could, in good conscience, join a church that doesn’t allow women the same admittance to leadership as men. Additionally, I think that frequent access to the sacraments is fundamental in a relationship with Christ.

I do want to go back there though. I need to decide whether all the things that I don’t love are worth enough to keep me away. Will I put my money where my mouth is as a feminist? Or will I decide that since Jesus also didn’t ordain women (at least in written history), that His example is enough for me? Will I continue to be disturbed by the lack of racial, economic and age diversity in a church that is striving to reach young people in Atlanta?....especially when I am already "reached"?

Let Them Eat Popcorn

2006-10-19T22:04:00.000-05:00

James and I just got back from the pre-screening of Marie Antoinette. We had free tickets and I wanted to go because it was actually filmed in part at Versailles. Well folks, that's about all I got out of the movie; the scenery and some beautiful shoes. I think James just wants his 2 hours back.

In a Mirror, Dimly

2006-10-13T11:46:00.000-05:00

Hi everyone.

Sorry no posts for a while. I am having trouble concentrating these days…I guess I need to start taking the meds again! There have been a million times where there were things about which I wanted to write, but couldn’t focus long enough to do it. Maybe I can finish up some of the posts I’ve started…and eventually get them up here.

Let me just say that I am looking for work again. I feel positive about the decision to leave where I am. But it’s all got me thinking a rather un-profound thought: What is real life?

Is your real life your job? For me, it NEVER has been. Work has been a means to an end and not one iota more. Maybe that’s because I’ve never been in love with my work, or maybe, I’m just not that good at it, or maybe, I’m not as smart as I once thought I was.

Regardless (as opposed to irregardless, which is not even a word because it’s REDUNDANT), I have been deciding for a long time that my life is all those things I do when I’m NOT working. It’s being with my friends, whether we are doing something or nothing. It’s having the daily cocktail on my balcony with my roommate. It’s cooking and washing the dishes, and doing the laundry. It’s watching Iron Chef with James and dragging him for walks around Piedmont Park. It’s talking to my family and spending time with them when I can. It’s shopping and dancing and reading and sending birthday cards and taking showers and all the daily things I do when I am not in from of this damned desk. Life does not happen in a cube, even if you have online friends.

I think that if I never worked another day in my life, there would always be someone else who does what I do. Let’s face it, I am not curing cancer or establishing peace in the Middle East. I always wanted a high prestige job which somehow included wearing expensive shoes eating lunch at glamorous places. Okay, I have the shoes and I can eat lunch wherever I want (at least some of the time). And guess what?

Nothing.

If I could make this same money working at Starbucks the Evil Totalitarian Coffee Regime, or even stocking shelves somewhere, I would do it. I let it go. I don’t need the prestige anymore. I realize this is not “doing small things with great joy” like St. Teresa did, and that’s a little bit sad and fatalistic sounding.

However, the upside is that I know for sure that my real value lies not in what I do for a living….it’s in the things I can give that have nothing to do with money. And I have to tell you, it’s a weight off my shoulders to finally come to that conclusion.

Happy 27th Day of September!

2006-09-27T14:51:00.000-05:00

Today is my birthday. Now, I don’t need to draw attention to that fact, except that I got to speak with two of my very favorite people on the phone today: Matthew and Taylor. I got a separate phone call from each of them. Sometimes I get calls from Taylor. She is an excellent phone conversation partner. But today I got a call from Matthew, and I have been made to understand that that’s a rare honor, as he is usually, “not taking calls.”

We chatted for a bit, you know, about whether he was home or at school today, what the dog was doing, etc. He said that he was at home today but was in the car at the moment with Mommy, and no, the dog was not with them because she was at home ….silly!

Matthew then wanted to know what kind of party I was having. I said, “I’m having a birthday party, with cake, at your house!” And he said, “No, what KIND of party are you having??!” At this point Kris had to get on the phone and say something like, “He wants to know if you are having a Thomas the Train party or a princess party. He asked me this earlier, and I said I thought you would want a princess party, like Taylor had two years ago.”

Well of course. Hang on….got to find my tiara around here somewhere…..

….you think I’m kidding, but I really do have one. I even wore it to Taylor’s party.

The Internet is for Porn

2006-09-25T12:49:00.000-05:00

So since my very minor surgery, my boyfriend has been left feeling a bit, uh…lonely. We recently had the following conversation:

Me: Sorry I haven’t been able to pay enough attention to you lately.
Him: It’s okay. I know you don’t feel well.

(Pause)

Me: Have you been looking at porn on the Internet?

(Pause)

Him: I *may have* passed by some porn on the Internet.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have come a long way since having a conversation something like this with an ex:

Me: (incredulous) Do you look at porn on the Internet??!

Him: Yes.

Me: Will you please STOP looking at porn on the Internet?

(long pause)

Him: No.

This makes me wonder if totally honesty in romantic relationships is ever so slighty overrated.

Those Horns Were Holding Up My Halo!!

2006-09-25T10:32:00.000-05:00

Last Friday, I had to two cysts removed from my scalp. Not super fun. They were both on the top of my head….two lumps which Mom routinely referred to as “the spots were my horns were removed.” :

I fell asleep during the surgery at the dermatologist’s office. When it was over, the nurse wrapped me up old school style, with gauze wrapped under my chin, like I had a tooth ache. It was like something out of a Tom& Jerry cartoon. I looked in the mirror and had two white gauze bumps spaced evenly over the top of my head. It basically looked like I was wearing white teddy bear ears on a head band.

After I paid and scheduled an appointment to have my stitches removed, I was afraid to walk out into the waiting room, not wanting to frighten the children out there with my bandages.

I tried to sneak out, but a little boy looked up from his puzzle and with a huge grin on his face, pointed and said “Cookie Monster!” Well, at least I didn’t scare him.

The Hills are Alive...

2006-08-14T14:09:00.000-05:00

This morning on the elevator up to my office, I was watching the little TV screen with news snippets and whatnot. It said that a Doors Greatest Hits album was coming out. This made me think of my old boyfriend “Scooter”. He loves the Doors. This also made reminded me that with each boyfriend, I added one or two musical artists to my “stuff I like to listen to” repertoire.

My 9th grade boyfriend, Craig, was (and still is) way into U2. I have to say, that is the one new group or singer that has stuck with me the most. I also love U2, but then, so do a lot of people or they wouldn’t be so successful….even now.

My 11th grade boyfriend loved Billy Joel. In fact I still sometimes sleep in my Storm Front concert t-shirt from about 1990. I liked Billy Joel quite a bit, and still love many of his older songs. I have a two CD set, that I used to listen to on road trips between Tallahassee and Cape Canaveral, because it’s so long. Since I knew all the words….I would be hoarse in the throat by the time I got home.

12th grade boyfriend: can’t recall the specifics, but I do remember him really liking Pink Floyd. I still just cannot get into that at all, but then we were at odds most of the time on several issues.

Then there was the long period with no boyfriend, but through friends was introduced to the Sundays, Stone Roses, Lightening Seeds, and Day by the River and Four Squirrels. (All you Gainesvillians might remember those last two.) During the college years I also got really into Prince (or whatever he was calling himself at that point.)

When I met my ex boyfriend J, I was able to indulge in my nostalgia for John Denver Music. We listed to a lot of Enya. I got him to appreciate Madonna…and that was about it for us and music. (Most of our “media” time together was spent watching the Sci Fi Network….when we actually had enough money for cable.)

With my current boyfriend James…we seem to be encountering a bit of trouble finding common ground in the music area. He does appreciate dance/techno, etc…but the stuff he listens to is heavier and scarier and angrier. Then there’s the punk, emo, and some other genres I've never even heard of. Poor guy, I am eternally just him asking to turn the car stereo off. I think the best we can do is focus on back in the day when we both enjoyed Depeche Mode, New Order, Erasure and the Pet Shop Boys. Oh, and he also digs show tunes. (And YES, James is straight).

So I guess my point is that it’s pretty amazing that music can remind you of certain times in your life the way that different smells can take you back to different memories. I could bore you even more describing these memories. I’ll leave that for another time. For now, I’ll just tell you what’s in my car stereo:

Madonna – Confessions on a Dance Floor
U2 – All That You Can’t Leave Behind, the Joshua Tree and Achtung! Baby
ATB – Seven Years
Sonique – Hear My Cry (I really might be a gay man…)
Oakenfold – Bunnka
The Best of OM – (belly dancing music)
Ricky Martin - can’t remember which one
Chemical Brothers - Singles
Kylie Minogue – Body Language
ABBA – Gold
John Mayer – Room For Squares
Gypsy Kings – can’t remember which one
Erasure – Pop
Some Latin Salsa Stuff, don’t know the titles, but totally in Spanish
BT – Movement in Still Life
America Graffiti - Soundtrack
And last but not least; Gay Pimp – Soccer Practice ;)

Dance Fever

2006-08-11T15:28:00.000-05:00

When I was little, my parents had one of those huge floor unit stereos, where the top lifted up and there was a record player down inside. It was crammed to overflowing with Dolly Parton, disco, Olivia Newton John, ABBA, Alabama, more disco and John Denver. Additionally, there were several pop albums in German….that Dad would play and I would just sing along having no idea what I was saying.

I loved the show Dance Fever, where couples would compete while dancing on a lighted dance floor. On the weekend when Dad was finished with the yard work and Mom was doing something in the kitchen, Dad would stack up a bunch of disco records and turn on the football game. He would watch football, with me dancing like it was going out of style off to the side in the living room, pretending I was on Dance Fever. It was like Instant Babysitter. Music on the stereo = small tan child, wearing only the big Carter’s flowered panties, dancing herself silly. Now don’t get me wrong, my parents paid lots of attention to me and Matt. But Dad luuuvs him some SEC football, and this was the best way for peace in the house while it was on TV.

I think this is where my love for, or rather addiction to, dance music came into being. I can’t help it, I’ve been listening to it since was about 3 years old. I specifically remember, the song S.O.S. by ABBA would come on, and I would hide behind an avocado green and harvest gold living room chair and cry, because the song made me sad and/or frightened me. I think it was it was because it’s written in a minor key (sad sounding) and I knew that when someone said “S.O.S.” it was because they were on a sinking ship or something bad was about to happen. Despite pop songs in minor keys…I was attracted to pop/dance music from a very early age. I vividly remember dancing to "That's the Way" uh huh uh huh, "I Like It" uh huh uh huh (complete with finger pointing motions) in the living room. And, um, if that song ever comes on in my presence....I pretty much still do the same dance, only wearing a better outift.

While I was home this year for the 4th of July, one of those horrible commericals came on the TV advertising a really annyoing collection of bubble gum pop songs (i.e. Barbie Girl and Mambo #5 or some such nonsense). Mom looked at me over the top of the newspaper and said, "If we were 25 years younger and still living in Holland, that is the sort of thing your father would have ordered." I wanted to barf...but still, I could sorta see the appeal. I had probably been singing the German equivalent of "Macarena" since I was three...(but don't tell anyone that....Dad and I being very serious analytical types....)

More Deadly Sins

2006-08-09T13:16:00.000-05:00

I stole this meme from James' blog...which he posted about a million years ago.

Favorite Deadly Sins? Here we go!

SLOTH
What is one thing you're supposed to do daily that you haven't done in a long time? My hair. I mean, it’s clean, but I don’t DO anything to it.

What is the latest you've ever woken up? About 2:00 PM.

Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't. Chris, I am crappy for missing your birthday.

What is the last lame excuse you've made? Have to work.

Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through? Yes, for that skin care system that Sean Combs and Jessica “the nitwit” Simpson use. Which is ridiculous because my skin is pretty good.

When was the last time you got a good workout in? This morning ;)

How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock today? None – see above.

GLUTTONY
What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice? If I drink an overpriced drink, it’s for damn sure not going to be coffee based.

White meat or dark meat? Dark.

What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event? At Gabriela’s wedding. Let’s just say there were waaay more groomsmen than bridesmaids…so I had a lot of folks bringing me drinks….

Have you ever used a professional diet company? Yes.

Do you have an issue with your weight? Yes. Schmoop says I have body dismorphic disorder or some such business.

Do you prefer sweets, salty foods, or spicy foods? Spicy.

Have you ever taken food "to go" from a buffet? No, but I have seen one of my great aunts do it….and I wanted to crawl under the table with embarrassment.

WRATH
Who did you last get angry with? Probably Dad.

What is your weapon of choice? Revenge, but I never use it. I sometimes even write out my elaborate revenge fantasies. I nearly posted the last about a year ago, but someone asked me not to.

Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? Already have. But my last two boyfriends were too quick for me and once I ended up with my feet a few inches off the ground. Yeah, nothing is worth getting that angry. I don’t even remember what it was that was upsetting me. So stupid.

How about of the same sex? I would need to be incandescent with rage and probably dangerously drunk as well. Not likely to happen.

Who was the last person that got really angry at you? Probably my father.

What is your pet peeve? Bad winners. Bad tippers. Emory sorority girls with horrible Northeastern accents describing their troubles getting Brian Green to go with them to the Delta Phi Epsilon formal…while I am trying to get a peaceful pedicure. Chipped nail polish. Clutter. People who create easily-avoidable drama. The color turquoise worn with denim.

Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily? Depends on the situation. But it usually hurts me more than the other person to hold on to a grudge.

LUST
How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies/family)? More than I can count. Lots of skinny dipping those summers between college semesters (You KNOW who you are, People.)

How many people have seen YOU naked (not counting physicians/family)? See above.

Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a member of your gender of choice during a normal conversation? No, but that lady on Everyday Italian does have quite the rack. Oh wait, my gender of choice? Hm, then no. Not really.

Have you wanted someone who was taken? Goodness, not since high school.

What is your favorite body part on a person of your gender of choice? Neck, collarbone.

Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute? No.

Have you ever had a one night stand? Does a friend count?

GREED
How many credit cards do you own? Out of the three that I have, I only use one.

What's your guilty pleasure? Shoes, perfume, stationary, earrings, evening purses, high thread count sheets, Aveda shampoo, Lancome mascara.

If you had $1 million, what would you do with it? Invest most of it, and travel.

Would you rather be rich or famous? Rich, duh.

Would you accept a boring job if it meant you would make megabucks? Yes. If you know of this job, please let me know. Unless it’s accounting-based.

Have you ever stolen anything? I don’t think so.

How many mp3's are on your hard drive? Proud owner of ZERO computers.

PRIDE
What's one thing have you done that you're most proud of? Breaking up when I knew he was never going to marry me.

What's one thing have you done that your parents are most proud of? Probably getting my Master's Degree, followed by studying abroad, followed by moving to Atlanta.

What thing would you like to accomplish in your life? I'd like to write a novel, just like EVERYONE else.

Do you get annoyed by coming in second place? No.

Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors? Yes, and Taylor was peeved when I won at Candy Land ;)

Have you ever cheated on something to get a higher score? Not really.

What did you do today that you're proud of? I looked for and found two old friends on the internet today.

ENVY
What item of your friend's would you most want to have for your own? A HOUSE.

If you could be anyone else in the world, who would you be?I think I’d like to be Matt for a day, because I really wonder what it would be like to understand any type of chemistry or physics.

Have you ever been cheated on? Yes.

Have you ever cheated on someone? Emotionally, yes. Physically, no.

Have you ever wished you had a physical feature different from your own? I would like to be skinnier with a smaller nose. Other than that, I am pretty okay :)

What trait do you see in others that you wish you had for yourself? The ability to keep a job. That and not burning the chicken.

What is your favorite deadly sin? Sloth, followed closely by Gluttony.

Turnabout is Fair Play

2006-08-07T14:52:00.000-05:00

After I took James to my cousin’s wedding in the whitest of white places, he took me to a Korean wedding reception last weekend. James is friends with the groom…and he and his new bride live in New York now. So after being married in Korea, they came to Atlanta for a reception thrown by the groom’s family.

After discovering that the reception was semi formal (and explaining what this meant to James), I decided to wear the same green dress I wore to my cousin’s wedding. Only Tammy warned me to cover my shoulders with a wrap or sweater or something. Noted!

The reception was in the top floor ballroom room of Pung Mie on Buford Highway. Atlantans know that any Asian or Latin restaurant worth your patronage is on Buford Highway….but I assure you, this particular establishment was lovely, as opposed to semi seedy.

We arrived, went up stairs, and sure enough, I was the only non-Asian person there. I was never so glad in all my life NOT to have been blonde. There were very pretty red lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The groom’s mother wore an unusual semi-Wester/semi-Korean dress, very formal. All the men and most of the ladies wore western clothing. I was very glad I wore the wrap as there was not a shoulder in sight.

I wasn’t sure what to do as we moved through the receiving line. Some were bowing, some hugging, some shaking hands. I decided to do whatever they did, so I ended up shaking hands with all and the groom gave me a hug. I was so nervous; I didn’t even think to watch James (even though I insisted he go through the line before me.) However, looking back, maybe bowing is different between Chinese and Koreans…and it might not have helped anyway, since I’ve never seen James bow in the first place. I just didn’t want to be the ugly American. And I definitely didn’t want to embarrass James.

I looked at the guest book, and all had signed it with Korean characters, so I wasn’t about to sign it …especially since I didn’t really know the family anyway. I thought my signature might mar the beautifully written Korean names and well wishes for the couple.

We were seated with some of James’ friends…and soon I was one of about 6 non-Asians instead of the only one. An announcer (?) rose and began to speak…in Korean….at length. He actually might not have spoken for that long, it may have only seemed like it since I didn’t understand anything. I asked James, “Can you understand?” “Not a word,” he replied. I relaxed and decided that at least Korean was easier on the ears than Dutch.

I did get that we were praying at one point and the only word I understood was “Amen.” Before we got to Amen, since I couldn’t understand what the man was praying, I asked God for his protection and blessing on the couple and their family, that they have a long, happy and prosperous life together, and for him to preserve their unity. That much, I could do.

And then! He broke out into English for about 3 minutes! Not only English, but Southern English. “I’d like to thank y’all for comin’ tonight, to meet the family.” It was a strange transition into English, but I was happy to have it,

Then there was dinner. An eight course dinner…so said the girl across from me. She told us to pace ourselves.

1st course: a strange but delicious salad….
2nd: 1000 Year Old Eggs. I ate the eggs but I didn’t love them.
3rd: Eggrolls and Crab Rangoon (it was here James told me this was a Korean Chinese restaurant)
4th: Kim Chee. I looooove kim chee. There is actually some in my fridge at the moment.
5th: Orange Beef
6th: Scallops Something
7th: Giant Prawns
8th: Chocolate Wedding Cake. (Good idea. Now that I know I can have a chocolate one, that’s what I want if I ever do get married.)

So stuffed and sticky from giant prawns, I went to the ladies room to wash hands. While I was in there, a very old lady said, “Young lady, I was watching you and you did extremely well with the chopsticks. I was most impressed when you ate the jellyfish salad.”

“Indeed? Is that what the first course was? Well, it was delicious.”

And then I came out from the ladies room to discover that the karaoke had begun. (James once told me that his parents have a karaoke thingy in their house. I thought that was just an Asian stereotype, but I guess not.) Anyway, I was unsure in what language the man was singing…but it turned out to be “I Did It My Way” in English with a very heavy Korean accent. It was very odd, but the man had a great voice. I was just hoping everyone wasn’t expected to sing….uh, since I don’t karaoke EVER.

If you hear me singing in public, I am either A) drunk as a skunk; or B) in church.
Please let those never be on the same occasion.

Worries

2006-06-23T09:20:00.000-05:00

Mom sent me this :) In case you were wondering, she's the cutest mom EVER.

Is there a magic cutoff period when
Offspring become accountable for their own
Actions? Is there a wonderful moment when
Parents can become detached spectators in
The lives of their children and shrug, "It's
Their life," and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital
Corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
Stitches in my son's head. I asked, "When do
You stop worrying?" The nurse said,
"When they get out of the accident stage."
My Mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little
Chair in a classroom and heard how one of my
Children talked incessantly, disrupted the class,
And was headed for a career making
License plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher
Said , "Don't worry, they all go through
This stage and then you can sit back, relax and
Enjoy them." My mother just smiled
Faintly and said nothing.

When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime
Waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come
Home, the front door to open.
A friend said, "They're trying to find themselves. Don't
Worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying.
They'll be adults." My mother just smiled
Faintly and said nothing.

By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being
Vulnerable. I was still worrying over my
Children, but there was a new wrinkle. There
Was nothing I could do about it. My
Mother just smiled faintly and said nothing. I
Continued to anguish over their failures, be
Tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in
Their disappointments.

My friends said that when my kids got married I
Could stop worrying and lead my own
Life. I wanted to believe that, but I was
Haunted by my mother's warm smile and her
Occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right?
Call me the minute you get home. Are
You depressed about something?"

Can it be that parents are sentenced to a
Lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another
Handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of
Human frailties and the fears of the
Unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue
That elevates us to the highest form of life?

One of my children became quite irritable
Recently, saying to me, "Where were you? I've
Been calling for 3 days, and no one answered.
I was worried." I smiled a warm smile.

The torch has been passed.

PASS IT ON TO OTHER PARENTS

(and also to your children. That's the fun part)

Weirdest Question Ever Posed Over IM

2006-06-16T13:58:00.000-05:00

thepeopleseason: hey, do you want a swing, cuffs and blindfold set?

Leaving My Religion

2006-06-12T15:14:00.000-05:00

Part II of II. Very very long post.

As I mentioned in the previous post, there was a time when I didn’t loose my faith, but certainly checked it at the door for a WHILE.

When I was an undergrad at UF, I hate to admit, but I did not have the best time. I had a really difficult time making friends. I came from a high school of 400 people to a university of 32,000 at the time. I was 17, and though academically prepared for college, I was not emotionally mature enough to be away from my family. I missed them terribly and begged my father to come get me for the first whole week I was there. I was in true culture shock. I had never had a friend of a different race before, never known anyone with an eating disorder, never even knew anyone who was truly disadvantaged. I wanted to meet these new kinds of friends, but none were forthcoming.

I had a wonderfully sweet roommate named Becky, who luckily was a sophomore and could help me through the bureaucratic runaround that was (and probably still is) the University of Florida. However, because she was a sophomore, I didn’t meet really any freshman friends. I had a few friends from my high school, but not many and we were spread all over campus.

My second year, Dad encouraged me to rush. I really was one of those Greeks who had to “buy their friends.” I strongly dislike that expression, but it was true enough in my case. He and Mom wanted someone to “make sure I was okay, have someone to eat dinner with.”(I am tearing up just thinking about all the meals I ate alone as a freshman.) As I pledged, I was forced back in the cookie cutter life that no longer fit me either.

And so, my life at UF began in a predictable and seemly interminable cycle of sleep, class, study, eat, (insert sorority bullshit here) shower and sleep. I was so lonely; even then, I had almost a 4.0 for 3 years. I was always caught up on my homework. I never skipped a class other than Psychology. I used my schoolwork as an excuse for a life. Something to fill up my days. I truly understood what it was like to be alone in a crowd, lost in a see of faces.

One would think that I would have turned to my faith in this time of need. I gave it a half hearted try and went to the United Methodist church across from campus. It was dry as toast and just not what I wanted. I don’t know why I didn’t seek further. Maybe because I didn’t know one other person who went to church while at college. Maybe it was easier to ignore it. Probably because I was just plain old lazy.

As time at UF passed, I no longer prayed, except before dinner at the sorority house, and even that was rote, cold and empty on my part. I sought happiness in the arms of several unsuitable boys, in drugs, in anything that would fill up the hole in my empty heart. I looked and looked in all the wrong places. I knew I was doing wrong, and I purposefully turned away from God in hope that my shamefulness would go unnoticed. Deep down, I knew I should be turning to God and not away from him. But never once did I really think I was forgotten or that I couldn’t go back. I was telling myself that I would start going to church and start praying once I was “being good” again. I told myself that religion was for good people, not bad people, like me.

I looked in the mirror and saw someone very unlovely. That was probably the prettiest I ever was on the outside, but it was a hollow, meaningless beauty and I did not like the person I saw. She was empty. There was nothing to her. I really did not like the person I had let myself become. I was not “me” anymore.

I am not sure how I began again with God. I remember graduating from college and moving home for a year. I was home with my parents and brother and we went to church on Sundays. I didn’t like it at all. I was used to doing whatever I wanted on Sunday, and I grudged going. But I unwillingly went…and slowly, very slowly, with many false starts and broken promises on my part, I …..I don’t know what happened. I was never “born again” (can’t stand that expression either). Nothing happened like Saul’s encounter on the road to Damascus. I think I was just happier to be home. I had a boyfriend I loved deeply and my family was around me. Life was easy and I will be the first person to admit that it’s indeed easier to love God and “be good” when things are going your way. I was spoiled. Everything was perfect and so I began to pray again and thank God for all He had given me.

As that summer ended, I went to grad school at Florida State. And, surprise surprise, I was miserably lonesome again. I felt abandoned on the doorstep of another huge university. I cried and cried for days and thought, “I cannot do this again. I cannot do it.”

Thank God for the friends I made at grad school. Grad school is much like grade school in that you tend to see the same few students and teachers in all of your classes. I forced myself to speak to people. My first friend was a girl named Melinda. We met a girl named Marina and a guy named Robby. Then I met Melissa and Keith. I told them how much I hated undergrad and how lonesome I had been. They had all been to teeny schools….and didn’t quite get it. Melinda told me she was in a Christian sorority. I still don’t exactly know what that entails, but I went to church when she invited me. We went often to a small Methodist Church called St. Paul’s. I decided I would try to go to church often, not because I was now “being good” but because I needed something to keep me afloat. I could not go back to the unhappiness from undergrad. I was scared to go there again….and I was holding on to anything I thought would keep me from that abyss of loneliness.

Through several layoffs and a couple of heart-shattering breakups, I have leaned on God. Things do not turn around overnight (as anyone reading this blog will know.) I have told him I was angry with Him, that I was sad, lonely, confused, disappointed, rejected, etc. In fact, this year on January 14th, I had a total hysterical crying hyper-ventilating breakdown. My poor friend Chris got to see it and I think he was scared for my sanity. I lay on my disgusting pile of tissues and screamed at God and told Him how lonely I was and why could I not find that person to have for myself always?! And a steady job to boot!! And in response, I heard nothing save the pounding in my own head. I did not hear God’s voice. But I did hear it in my friends and family and my therapist(s). I knew I needed help, and God sent it…in the form of many of you, my friends…some of you very angry with God or not even knowing Him. In these times, if I learned only one thing, it was to ask for help and then HOLD ON.

As I look back at that time and many other times, I realize it is a conscious decision to be close to God. You have to decide you want to do it. I will say this, and many learned theologians will disagree, but I think that faith is something you have to practice until it becomes real. It’s doesn’t seem genuine to you in the beginning, unless you have some life changing, “rebirth” experience, of which I am convinced there are very few. You must begin somewhere, and it feels fake and insincere. You have to go through the motions of faith until it is faith.

When I have not been close to God, I sometimes think, “He does not want to hear from me. I have abandoned Him.” That isn’t true though, since you cannot abandon God, because He doesn't leave us. As in an expression popularized by Carl Jung, “Bidden or unbidden, God is present."

It took me until today to figure that out.

Losing My Religion

2006-06-09T09:27:00.000-05:00

Part I of II

Wow. This just about never happens. I have a few minutes with absolutely nothing I need to be doing for work. All those days at the Bank when I had time to write are no more.

So, something which has caught my fancy lately is thinking about faith. My faith.

I was speaking on the phone with a friend’s mother. This friend’s mother, “MM,” is a close friend of mine in her own right. I can say that a significant portion of my spirituality has been built on hers. If I had a godmother, it would be MM….even if she’s Catholic and I am United Methodist.

I was telling her that I had a friend who said he had lost his faith. I was stunned when she said, “We’ve all lost our faith at some point? Haven’t you?”

“No” I said, “at one point, I abandoned mine.”

This made me think deeply on two points.

1) How does one lose faith?
2) It’s probably worse that I abandoned mine rather than lost it.

Losing My Religion

I think losses of faith frequently occur due to negative or overzealous Christians. I am speaking of those people to whom “Lord, Save me from Your followers” applies. Those are the people who tell everyone else what they are doing is wrong, wrong, wrong. To those people (and myself), I would say, “Remove the log from your own eye before you point out the speck in your brother’s eye.” We all do things wrong. Christians are not perfect. And any Christian who says they are has no idea what they’re talking about.

Back to my point. Young people and old people get tired of being berated Sunday after Sunday. I have been to churches such as these…usually when I am visiting relatives, and for a long time in high school when my Sunday School class studied other denominations and styles of worship.

The pastor will get up there and get going in a rhythm and just belabor the point that we are all going to hell if we don’t depart from our evil ways. We’re going to hell for not tithing. We’re going to hell for sins of the flesh (or even thinking about it). We’re going to hell if we vote for the Democrats. We’re going to hell if we read Harry Potter, read the horoscopes, go to Disney or go the liquor store.

Several friends have told me of horrible experiences, usually in Sunday School classes or church services, where they were introduced to an angry, wrathful God. I realize that the Old Testament God was vengeful and scary and that most Bible stories that kids hear are from the Old Testament.

God punishing His children by flooding the whole earth and drowning almost everyone? Horrible!

God letting His special chosen people wander in the desert for 40 years? That’s just plain mean!

There’s always smoting and slaying and battles and sacrifices and all kinds of bloody business. Clearly, God spent a lot of the Old Testament putting His foot down. And that's putting it mildly!

I am not saying that we don’t all need a wake up call to improve ourselves, be nicer, help others, be less judgmental, be more forgiving, stay on the straight and narrow, and just generally be more loving. I am saying that negative Christians need to brush up on their New Testament.

Have you heard? It’s this amazing story (some would even say the greatest story ever told)! God loves us so much that he gave us his Son. Would any of my friends who are parents give up their child to people who don’t deserve it? Can you imagine killing your child so a bunch of let’s say….terrorists or other criminals, could have God’s forgiveness? That is what God did for us. That really is the crux of the whole Bible, right there. This shows that He loves us and forgives us. It is the nature of God to be loving.

Would I go so far as to presume to know the nature of God?

Yes I would.

Public Service Announcement

2006-06-09T09:24:00.000-05:00

Long and boring....but useful.

"Demented and sad....but social." Gees I just crack myself up!
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As many of you know, I work for a tiny company that basically makes automated phone systems suck less than they already do. In terms that I can understand, it’s like this:

You know how you call your bank and it says,
Press 1 to hear your balance
Press 2 to transfer funds
Press 3 to make a payment….?

The system you are using is called an Interactive Voice Response System, or an IVR for short.

We all hate this. It’s a universal fact. We just want to talk to a real live person. That, gentle readers, is not going to happen….at least not all the time….because it costs 5 times more per second for you to speak with an agent than it does for you to “self serve” in the IVR.

Because I am a nice girl, I am going to try to make your IVR-ridden future just a little easier to handle.

Once you call your bank, you have to say or enter your account number, billing zip code, last four digits of your SSN, amount of last deposit or some combination thereof. This process is called authentication…so the system knows it’s really you and hopefully not someone stealing your identity and buying a bunch of porn on your credit cards. Sometimes, you may only have to enter one of those pieces of info instead of two. This is because the IVR recognizes the phone number from which you are calling as being unique to you. This is called Automated Number Identification or ANI for short.

ANI only works if you are calling from something like a home phone number or personal mobile number. If you work for a company with a large number of employees in the same building, this won’t work, because the number you call OUT from is probably the same as everyone else’s. In this case, ANI technology cannot recognize you as an individual.

Some IVRs understand speech only. Some understand touch tone (TT) entry only. Most understand both. TT entry is the way to go if you have to enter a bunch of consecutive numbers because it is more exact than speech recognition. However, speech can have its benefits. If the IVR is equipped with an emotion detector, it can tell when you’re getting angry from the one of your voice and will possibly move your call ahead in the queue for an agent. Don’t start off cursing a blue streak because emotion-detection technology is expensive, therefore exceedingly rare.

It’s important to remember that once you authenticate…no matter how it’s done, the IVR already knows a bunch of things about you. This can be good or bad…depending. If you have been flagged as a possible fraud risk or if you are very late on some payment, you will most like be sent to an agent immediately. If you are a very very lucrative customer, your call will be sent to the front of the queue. Alternatively, if you’re very small potatoes, you might actually be sent to the BACK of the call queue. Not fair. I know! I know!

Let’s use our banking example again. Say you use the same bank for your small business and personal checking. Or you have a credit card with the same bank as your mortgage. You need to talk to an agent about your mortgage, but the only phone number you can find for your bank is the one on your credit card statement. So you call that number and hope they can transfer you. Well, they probably can, but then you’ll have to wait in TWO lines. One for the credit agent, and then one for the mortgage agent. Do yourself a favor and call in on the right number. It will only save you some time.

Why can’t the agents be trained in both?? Because training is long and expensive. Very expensive. That, and customer service rep is a low paying, low status job…and consequently has extremely high turnover. It’s not economical for companies to cross train employees who very likely won’t be there very long. (Ugh and I would not wish that job on my worst enemy.)

So what can you do?

1) Call from home if at all possible (if you already have some type of connection/account with the company you are calling).
2) Call the correct phone number.
3) Do not get on the phone and immediately begin pressing zero or yelling “agent, person, human, representative” etc. You WILL be at the tail end of the queue BEHIND all those callers who tried to self serve.
4) Do not call your bank/financial advisor/bookie on a Monday. Call all other companies on a Monday or Friday.
5) And most importantly – DO AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE ONLINE

There you have it. IVRs are not going away no matter how much customers complain about them. It’s just too much cheaper to get you to do things yourself.

If you just can’t take it anymore, visit this website: http://www.gethuman.com/us/It tells you the fastest way to speak to an agent in many large U.S. companies. Just remember, you’ll still be at the end of the line!

PinkGator Catches the Bouquet. Again.

2006-05-09T17:22:00.000-05:00

I give up on trying figuring out a good blog name for the new boyfriend, so I am just going to tell you his name is James. That way, I can get on with telling you about my weekend. First, some background. James is Chinese, and I don’t mean half Chinese, he’s all the way Chinese, well…..from Taiwan, if you want to get technical. Not that James’ ethnicity is at all important, but I brought him to most homogenous place on the planet, Maryville, Tennessee, for my cousin’s wedding.

I had to give a heads up on James to the extended (very country, partially redneck, ALL SOUTHERN) family. The last thing I wanted was for either of my very elderly, opinionated grandmothers to say something like, “Honey? Couldn’t you get a white boy to go out with you? Bless your little heart.”

sigh.

So, advance warning having been given….we left for Maryville. Brave James hadn’t met any of my family…and he got to meet ALL of them in one weekend. My parents and brother are nice to everyone, so that was going to be easy. But James is a bit (okay, a lot) shy, so I was nervous for him.

I’m happy to say that nothing embarrassing happened…except that one of my grandmothers is of the opinion that James is definitely a Hawaiian. She thinks he just doesn’t look Chinese. Like hell, he doesn’t.

My cousin Beth married a wonderful man named Bryan, whom we all adore, in a private ceremony at the Hilton. A larger reception was to follow in the ballroom down the main hall.

Let me just go on the record as saying that the setting was intimate and lovely, the bride was beautiful and very happy, and the groom has very emotional. The flowers were honestly the most beautiful I had ever seen at a wedding. Sadly, the groom’s family is not in his life, so they did not attend although they were invited repeatedly. And due to other family issues, the bride’s father’s family was not there, other than the father-of-the-bride himself.

I sat between my brother and James. Grandmother was escorted in and said loudly right before she sat down, “I’m just about to walk out of my shoes!” Perfect!

Then my parents came in and sat next to Grandmother. James then looks over at me and says, “Your dad rules.” and points toward my father in front. Dad had not been sitting for more than 30 seconds before he took out a mechanical pencil and the USA Today crossword and started working it. In the words of Dad, “Don’t kill time, use it.” I thought Mom was going to have a fit when she saw what he was doing. I heard her whisper to Dad, “Thank God we’re in the front row where no one can see you!”

With the ceremony and pictures over, we headed towards the reception. Between the wedding room and reception ballroom, a Maryville High School 50 year reunion was taking place. There was a slight delay while my family had to say hello to everyone they knew. This took about 45 minutes.

The reception was very pretty, food good, etc etc. Towards the end, James leans over and says, if they throw the bouquet and garter, we’re gonna be the only ones out there.” I was planning to hide in the bathroom. I’ve already caught three bouquets and they haven’t helped….

Sure enough, then it was bouquet tossing time. I stayed in my seat. No one was going up there except three little girls who were about 4, 7 and 8 years old. No way, Jose. I said, “I’m not going up there if I’m the only one”… a little louder than I meant to.

Beth looked so disappointed that I got up and stood out there for a minute telling Beth she could just toss it to me….before two of my cousin’s girlfriends came up there as well. Since those two were hiding behind me and my Titanic-sized hair-do, and I was taller than the little girls, I caught my fourth bouquet. Yay.

I went to ask Bryan when they were doing the garter toss. I was relieved beyond words that they decided not to….since I am related to most of the people in attendance. We don’t need anymore country cousins jokes in this world. Bryan gave me a huge bear hug, and said through teary eyes, “Youins are the only family I’ve got now, and I love you for it. I promise I’ll always be good to Beth….”

(sniffle)

After all that I went up to my room to fix myself a real drink. Of course I spilled tonic ALL over my dress and had to take it off and blow dry it. Thank goodness silk dries quickly. The reception had this champagne punch….with leads me to confess that Beth actually had them create a new recipe for the champagne punch so that it would be pink, instead or orange-ish. Can’t blame her for that, really. Pink is always better than orange, unless you are referring to pumpkins or Gators.

The most original part of the evening was that for the departure, the newlyweds were going to run through the guests (as usual) except we were all holding sparklers instead of bubbles, rice, or birdseed. The wrappers of the sparklers emitted a bunch of smoke. So much so, that when the door of the hotel was opened so Beth and Bryan could run through, all the smoke got sucked inside the lobby. The class reunion next door all came out into the hallway, looking frightened and inquisitive.

Later that evening, after things had settled down a bit, my cousin Jonathan said he heard from the "reunioners" that the hotel was on fire and that the bride was fleeing for her life! When I return to Maryville, I’ll probably hear the story of the Burning Bride who caught her dress on fire just after she got married. Now that’s one urban legend, I don’t want to hear!

Addendum: Matt just called me from my dad's parent's place saying that Gran wanted to know what James' last name was. I told him the name and how it was spelled and that the pronunciation was completely unrelated to the spelling, at least as far as I could tell. Hope Gran has a good time figuring that one out....

Meme a Little Meme

2006-04-21T10:38:00.000-05:00

[1] I have read a lot of books.
[2] I have been on some sort of varsity team.
[ ] I have run more than 2 miles without stopping.
[ ] I have been to Canada.
[3] I have been to Europe.
[4] I have watched cartoons for hours.
[5] I have tripped UP the stairs. I do this a lot actually.
[6] I have fallen down an entire flight of stairs.
[7] I have been snowboarding/skiing.
[ ] I have played ping pong.
[8] I swam in the ocean.
[9] I have been on a whale watch.
[10] I have seen fireworks.
[11] I have seen a shooting star.
[12] I have seen a meteor shower. I used to watch them from my parent's driveway and fall asleep.
[13] I have almost drowned.
[14 ] have been so embarrassed I wanted to disappear. In 9th grade my mother called the parents of our chorus president to ask if there would be parents home during a party.
[15] I have listened to one cd over & over & over again.
[ ] I have had stitches.
[ ] I have had frostbite.
[16] I have licked a frozen pole and got stuck there. Okay, not a frozen pole, but the inside of the freezer. I think I was about 10 years old.
[17] I have stayed up til 2 doing homework/projects. Um, try 5 am. Never pulled an all nighter though.
[18] I currently have a job. A job that is wearing me out!
[19] I have been ice skating.
[20 ] I have been rollerblading. I have trouble stopping on rollerblades. I have to roll into the grass.
[21] I have fallen flat on my face. Repeatedly.
[22] I have tripped over my own two feet.
[23] I have been in a fist fight. With Gab. She threw brush at me when I yelled at her for using all the hot water. We were 12. That was the last time I was in a fight.
[ ] I have played videogames for more than 3 hours straight.
[ ] I have watched the power rangers.
[24] I attend Church/Synagogue/Religious Service regularly.
[25] I have played truth or dare. And have discovered that the dare is usually less bad than the truth.
[26] I've called someone stupid. And meant it.
[27] I've cried in school. After getting the grades back from most math tests.
[28] I've played basketball on a team. I was just awful.
[29] I've played baseball on a team. My t-ball team, the Leprachauns, was the cutest thing EVER.
[ ] I've played football on a team.
[ ] I've played soccer on a team.
[30] I've done cheerleading on a team.
[31] I've played softball on a team....and in about the 6th grade, I told my parents those girls scared me and I didn't want to play anymore.
[32] I've played volleyball on a team.
[ ] I've played tennis on a team.
[33] I've been on a track or cross country team.
[ ] I've bungee jumped. But I'd like to.
[34]I've climbed a rock wall.
[35] I've lost more than $20. Once my mom threw away $500 on accident. She went to the dump....and found it!
[36] I've called myself an idiot.
[37] I've called someone else an idiot.
[ ] I've cried myself to sleep. Can't cry myself to sleep. When I'm that sad, I just keep crying.
[38] I've had (or have) pets.
[ ] I've owned a spice girls cd.
[39] I've owned a britney spears cd. Well, CMills left one at my house and I didn't want to give it back.
[ ] I've owned an N*Sync cd.
[ ]I've owned a backstreet boys cd.
[40] I've mooned someone. Yeah, and Kristina has a picture of it!
[41] I've sworn at someone in authority. See my posting about not getting into the Air Force.
[42]I've been in the newspaper.
[43] I've been on TV. The Thanksgiving I was in kindergarden, we dressed up as either "indians" or pilgrims. I was the only one dressed as a pilgrim....and was more than likely the only child who was at least partially Native American. Anyway, the local news came to show us. Must have been a slow news day.
[44] I've been to Hawaii.
[45] I've eaten sushi.
[ ] I've been on the other side of a waterfall.
[46] I've watched all of the Lord of the Rings movies....in a row
[47] I've watched all the Harry Potter movies.
[ ] I've watched all of the Rocky movies.
[ ] I've watched the 3 stooges.
[ ] I've watched "Newlyweds" Nick & Jessica
[48] I've watched Looney Tunes.
[ ] Ive been stuffed into a locker. The lockers at my high school were tiny!
[49] I've been called a geek.
[50] I've studied hard for a test and got a bad grade. Algebra is the bane of my existance.
[51] I've not studied at all for a test and aced it.
[ ] I've hugged my mom within the past 24 hrs. :( Sadly, no. I am the biggest Mommy's Girl.
[ ] I've hugged my dad within the past 24 hours. :( Again, sadly no.
[ ] I've met a celebrity/music artist.
[52] I've written poetry. Awesomely bad poetry.
[ ] I've been arrested. Um nearly. Once for indecent exposure and once for traveling without a passport.
[ ] I've been attracted to someone older than me. Not really.
[ ] I've been tickled till I've cried.
[53] I've tickled someone else until they cried. My poor brother. Incidentally, Happy Birthday Matt!
[54] I've had/have siblings.
[55] Ive been to a rock concert.
[56] I've been in a play. "She's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead!"
[57] I've been picked last
[ ] I've been picked first
[58] I've been picked in that middle-range in gym class.
[59] I've read a book longer than 1,000 pages.
[60] I've played Halo 2.
[ ] I've freaked out over a sports game.
[ ] I've been to Alaska.
[ ] I've been to China.
[ ] I've been to Spain.
[ ] I've been to Japan....feeling decidedly untravelled right now....
[61] I've forgiven someone who has done something wrong to me.
[62] I've been forgiven. Thank goodness.
[63] I've screamed at a scary movie. The last scary movie I saw was Cujo sometime in the 80s, and I definitely screamed.
[64] I've cried at a chick flick
[65] I've screamed at the top of my lungs. When J broke up with me.
[ ] I've been to a rap concert.
[ ] I've been to a hip hop concert.
[ ] I've lived in more than 2 houses. I've lived in more than two places, but only 2 houses.
[66] I've been homesick. My entire freshman year at UF and my first two months at FSU.
[67] I've puked on someone. I know I have puked on more than one person, but distictly remember throwing up on Sean.
[68] I've been horseback riding. I am terrible, Tammy can verify this.
[69] I've spoken my mind in public.
[70] I've proved someone wrong. My poor poor ex boyfriends who make the mistake of trying to debate me. The list is long, but distinguished.
[71] I've been proven wrong by someone. See above.
[73] I've fallen off a swing.
[ ] I've watched Winnie the Pooh movies
[ ] I've forgotten my backpack when I've gone to school.
[ ] I've lost my backpack.
[ ] I've come close to dying.
[ ] I've seen someone die.
[74] I've known someone who has died.
[ ] I've wanted to be an actor/actress at some point.
[ ] I've forgotten to brush my teeth some mornings.
[75] I've taken something/someone for granted.
[76] I've realized how good my life is
[ ] I've counted my blessings. I've never counted my blessings, but I've listed them.
[77] I've been asked out by someone and I said no.
[78] I've asked someone on a date and been turned down.
[79] I've slapped someone in the face.
[80] I've been skateboarding.
[81] I've been backstabbed by someone I thought was a friend. Allie the Viper
[82] I've lied to someone to their face. No, I did not toilet paper that lawn.
[83] I've told a little white lie.
[84] I've taken a day off from school/work just so I don't go insane.
[ ] I've been knocked out.
[85] I've had an argument with someone about whether cheerleading is a sport or not. Yep, my Dad.
[90] I've pushed someone into a pool.
[91] I've been pushed into a pool. Yes, and so has anyone who's been to one of Seton's parties.
[92] Been in love. Thankfully, yes :)

No Rest for the Wicked

2006-04-19T15:23:00.000-05:00

Haven’t been posting lately. Been busy with two things.

One: work is, well, workish.

I am enjoying it, and it’s not stressful (currently). However, I am at the office a LOT. Although I have been warned that this is NOTHING compared to when a pilot demonstration is due. I am getting the hang of things slowly but surely, mostly due to my coworker and fantastic teacher, M.E. We have a client who insists on referring to us as “The Marys”….about which we are decidedly not thrilled. It's like we're "The Bobs" from Office Space.

This is the most I’ve had to think since grad school. Literally, I have to use my brain all day every day….and I wish it would start working better. Sometimes at night, when I wake up to roll over, I find that I am doing analysis in my sleep….trying to figure something out that was eluding me during the work day. sigh. Not very restful.

Two: the New Man.

We were in the car the other day, and I was commenting on my inability to quit thinking about work. I was saying something along the lines of “I just want my life back!”

He looked at me and said, “If this is not having a life, I don’t think it’s too bad, is it?”

I smiled brightly and said, “You’re right, it’s not too bad at all.” :)

Happy Easter!

2006-04-14T12:24:00.000-05:00

Elektra: did i tell you he gave me an Easter basket?
PinkGator: NO
Elektra: i always got them from my parents
PinkGator: oh
Elektra: it was especially sweet because i won't see any family for Easter this year
Elektra: for the first time in my life
Elektra: but i still got an Easter basket :)
PinkGator: That is super sweet then
Elektra: i feel bad because i didn't get anything for him!
PinkGator: Hmm. You could bake him a ham....the traditional Easter dish!
Elektra: lol
Elektra: "Happy Easter! Here, have some ham"
PinkGator: exactly
PinkGator: or, you know, in the interest of convenience....just hand him a package of bacon.
Elektra: lol
Elektra: maybe even the microwaveable kind
Elektra: very convenient
PinkGator: well, at least make sure it's thawed first

Guilty Pleasures

2006-04-11T22:08:00.000-05:00

TAG! You're it!

Culinary:
-Anything involving seafood, pasta, garlic and a white sauce.
-Fried chicken
-Pie
-Brie (Tammy!)
-Any of Kristina's made-from-scratch baked goods.

Literary:
-The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice writing as A. Roquelaure (don’t we all need to read more soft porn?)
-Anything by Rosamunde Piltcher or Maeve Binchy
-Fairy tales “I do believe in fairies! I do! I do!” – from Peter Pan.

Audiovisual:
Any “period piece” movie…basically anything with petticoats, kilts or kimono. Dangerous Liaisons, Braveheart or Hero. Clearly, I have a thing for movies with swords...

Musical:
-I love that song Breathe on Me by Brittany Spears.
-Voice of the Beehive
-good old school cheesy techno

Celebrity:
-Catherine Zeta-Jones. She’s so beautiful, it’s like she’s not even human.
-Harrison Ford – I think I’m still having a Han/Leia fantasy….

The People Season

2006-04-05T11:31:00.000-05:00

I normally don’t speak too much of my dating life unless it’s going poorly. But in the cause of adding more humor to the Internet, I am going to let you know that it’s going well for a change. I am having serious difficulty coming up with a proper blog name for him just yet, so for now I will merely post a recent chat over Yahoo IM.

PinkGator: I am reading your survey on myspace
thepeopleseason: hrmm.
thepeopleseason: wonder what I wrote on that.
PinkGator: I like it
PinkGator: here's one of MY answers:
PinkGator: 21. Do you wear hoodies often? Hardly ever. I have a pink fleece hoodie, and when I wear it, I think it looks like there's a big clitoris on my head.
thepeopleseason: lol
PinkGator: seriously
PinkGator: that's why I don't wear the hood part.
thepeopleseason: that certainly wouldn't be hard to find...

Verbose

2006-04-04T22:02:00.000-05:00

I am on a campaign to bring more words into the English language. Now, as I recently read, Hawaiians have 108 words for sweet potato. The Inuit have many many words for snow. They differentiate between falling snow, wet snow, powdery snow, crunchy snow, dirty snow, icy snow, etc. The Japanese have bunches of words for rice: rice in the field, rice in the bowl, uncooked rice, sticky rice, white rice, brown rice. The Albanians apparently have 27 words for eyebrow. I am assuming one of those words is roughly equivalent to “monobrow”.

I also know that the Greeks have at least three words for love. Eros is physical attraction or romantic love. Philos is love between friends. And Agape is unconditional love, or God’s love.

I think the English language needs more words for love. We misuse it so badly. I love broccoli. I love U2. I love my mother. I love my friends and I have been “in love.”

As for “I love broccoli” we need a word which means, “I enjoy the flavor of broccoli immensely and don’t feel guilty after I eat it.” Salubrious is the closest I can think of for that.

I love U2: They’re music makes me think and it’s also really great to play at earsplitting decibels with the top down while I speed through winding roads in Oregon national forests.

I love my mom: She is one of my best friends, and although she doesn’t always know what to say (can you blame the woman? She was married at 21 and has had the same job her whole life!) she is always my biggest cheerleader/fashion critic/recipe explainer/penpal. I think for her, I would need a mix of words between Philos and Agape.

However, in lieu of coming up with more words for love (and I want everyone to be working on that)….I have decided to bring a few underutilized words back into existence.

Elektra uses a particular word that I’ve never heard spoken by anyone under the age of 70. She is bringing back the word “primp” …as in, “I need some time to go home and primp after work before my date.” Dictionary.com describes “to primp” as to dress or groom oneself with meticulous or excessive attention to detail. The memory this word brings to mind was when Elektra and I were roommates on the ski trip. She was using the straightening iron on her wavy hair, and I was using the curling iron on my straight hair….both of us primping for various others. To no avail, I might add.

I am also bringing back the words “nitwit” and “ninny”. Dad used to tell me not to act like a ninny. These two words are synonyms, or are at least very close in meaning: a fool, a simpleton, a stupid foolish person. I use them mostly to describe Jessica Simpson, Paris Hilton and basically anyone on the cover of Us Weekly. Ronnie, please quit reading that crap. It rots your brain.

And, of Bull Durham fame, the word “lollygag” deserves to be brought back into regular use. It means: to waste time by puttering aimlessly; dawdle. Or in the words (again) of Dad, it means the same as “dilly dally”….which was most often used to when he was trying to get me, my mother and my brother to quit primping and get in the car. He loathes being late. “And the only thing worse than late, is late to church!”

If all you of can please help bring these back, I feel that our local vernacular will be ever so slightly most robust. So please, get on with it and don’t dilly dally around.

PostSecret

2006-03-29T08:48:00.000-05:00

Have you heard of the website PostSecret? I love it. A man named Frank started it by leaving blank postcards in public places in New York City with the following instructions:

You are invited to anonymously contribute your secrets to PostSecret. Each secret can be a regret, hope, funny experience, unseen kindness, fantasy, belief, fear, betrayal, erotic desire, feeling, confession, or childhood humiliation. Reveal anything - as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before.

Anyway, people actually did mail them in, and Frank has made art exhibits and a book out of them. But there are new secrets on the website every Sunday. I always check them.

Some are funny: “I fantasize about 3 ways with Mormon missionaries that come to my door.”

Some are sad: “This is how lonely I am” (with a screen shot of a Google search for “arranged marriage”). That one made me dissolve into tears.

Some are sweet: “I sleep in an undershirt that used to me my grandfather’s. It still smells like him.”

And one this week hit home with me: “I don’t know how to find a new boyfriend because the guy I’d like is probably sitting at home alone spending time of his computer reading this card. Come find me.”

I went to a housewarming party a few Saturday nights ago and the PostSecret book was on the coffee table. I sat on the sofa and was looking at it for a little while. A number of people asked about it, since it’s a pretty unusual looking book. A guy sat down next to me and we looked at it together for a few moments.

I turned to a page that said, “I don’t think my fiancée is the one.” It was a plain, written postcard, but the O in the word “one” was an engagement ring. The guy next to me said, “That is exactly how I feel right now.” He had tears in his eyes.

I asked him why he thought that. He went into a long explanation about how his fiancée had abandonment issues, trust issues, etc. We went outside and spoke at length about her progress in therapy, and the decisions he needed to make very soon because the wedding is in MAY. We chatted for a long time, to the point where friends came out on the porch to check on me. When I was about to leave, he followed me into the bathroom and kept talking. I finally left with his business card and a promise to call and check on him.

He is doing all right now, but continues to thank me profusely for merely listening to him. I wonder if he will end up marrying that girl, or if he will come to his senses (at least in my unprofessional opinion). I wonder if he will be sending in his secrets to PostSecret. I look for them every week. Maybe one of these days I’ll have the courage to send in some of mine.

A Favorite Poem

2006-03-28T10:49:00.000-05:00

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal
-Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

-Pablo Neruda
Translated from the Spanish by Christopher Logue

FoxTrot

2006-03-10T14:32:00.000-05:00

It’s been a while since I posted, because my new job at FoxTrot is keeping me pretty busy. Having come from the behemoth that was the Bank, working for a technology start-up has taken some adjusting. For instance,

-- The soda is free (and anyone who’s worked for a start-up knows that’s a given)
-- Everyone uses the F word as any part of speech, except prepositions
-- There are razor scooters at either end of the hall, because it’s a long walk. I saw our president whizzing by on one last week.
-- There are games everywhere (badminton is usually the game of choice)
-- Rubber band fights break out spontaneously
-- The median age is 32. In fact, the modal and mean ages are also 32...what are the chances of that?!)

I share a very large office space with two 26 year old guys. They are both from Georgia Tech. In fact, I would say 60% of the firm is from Georgia Tech….and that includes the folks in the Israeli office. My friend Iris was quoted as saying, “That’s some serious Nerd Power.” Looks like I’ve finally found a place where others speak fluent Nerd. Hooray!

I am the only Gator, thereby lending at least a small amount of coolness to the staff…even if it’s coolness in my own nerdy sort of way.

Anyway, FoxTrot sent me on a business trip to Charlotte on my first day of work…..to take some training with the staff from the Bank. My Bank. The notorious Bank who that laid me off. Of course, once I got there, they hadn’t set me (or my coworker) up with the correct computer accesses, so I was unable to take the training and therefore spent a wasted week in Charlotte. However, I did get to know two of my new co-workers pretty well (a 4 hour road trip with folks you don’t know will do that).

I’ve spent the last week sitting in meetings and trying to figure out what’s going on. Um, it’s a little slow going. I am coming up against an incredibly steep learning curve. But it’s not budget analysis, so I should be able to catch on eventually. The software I am trying to learn is extremely robust and very cutting edge, so I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s like learning Japanese. Or Hebrew, rather.

So that’s about it from here. I am going home before my brain melts.

A Stolen Season

2006-03-03T12:34:00.000-05:00

Another long one.

After J and I had been broken up for about 7 months, my roommate Veronica left on a rotation with the CDC. She rented her room out to a lovely Pakistani girl named Saima, who was the first Islamic person I had ever met. She was a medical student at St. Mary’s in London, and had come to the CDC in Atlanta to study epidemiology for two months. I marveled that the labels on her food, shampoo, and clothing were all written in Arabic. I really liked living with her.

That particular year, I left my Christmas tree up until Valentine’s Day. She helped me take it down and commented that there was nothing in Islam as beautiful as Christmas. That made me sad, but it was a bonding moment for us. Her parents were obviously quite liberal, as she lived on her own in London while they were back in Pakistan. They were starting to get on her case about getting married. She was allowed to choose her own husband as long as he was Muslim and preferably Pakistani. She wanted to get married, but was too busy with school to find a suitable mate, so she told her parents to begin looking for a husband for her. I can’t even imagine!! Anyway, after Saima’s rotation at CDC was finished, she had to go back to London to meet some candidates her parents sent to meet her.

Veronica was to be away for two more months. Saima came to me before she left and asked if I wanted another roommate. I said that would be fine and cleared it with Veronica. Saima gave my phone number to her friend Ward, a med student from Stanford, who had been living with his cousin in a commune in Cabbagetown until he found a better place. Ward came to look at the apartment. I fixed him lunch and he said he would take the room if I was okay with it. He seemed fine, so I agreed and he moved in two days later.

Ward really liked to cook. He actually threw dinner parties and invited over a bunch of other CDC folks who didn’t know anyone else either. As I did have some semblance of my own life again at this point, I didn’t go out with him socially.

After he’d been at my apartment for two weeks, my mother came to stay with me for the night on her way to Tennessee. She met Ward briefly as he was on his way out to dinner with friends. He said to me, “A bunch of us are going Salsa dancing after dinner at Tongue & Groove if you want to join us. Do you know how to Salsa?”

“Yes,” I said, “But I think Mom and I are just going to dinner and make it an early night.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, call me on my cell phone.”

So Mom and I went to a long leisurely dinner and returned home, driving through pouring rain. I was tired and changed into some pajamas.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Mom. “You’re going dancing. I bet you haven’t been in ages!” She propelled me towards my closet and told me to pick out an outfit, put my Free Drink Shoes on, do myself up and get on with it.

I protested that I was tired, but it was no use. She was insistent. I think my mom just wanted to see me happy again, and she knew I loved to dance.

So I drove to Tongue & Groove to see Ward cutting a rug with his friend Annie. I bought myself a drink because I was just nervous and weirded out. I was leaving when my cell phone rang. It was Ward. I told him that I was there but didn’t want to stay/interrupt/intrude, etc. He told me all his friends were leaving as asked me to stay and dance.

I let myself be persuaded by two mojitos and we finally got onto the dance floor. Though Ward was about half a beat behind the music, he was a pretty darn good dancer. Like a bad music video, I don’t have to tell you what the combination of alcohol, Latin music and loneliness can do to two young people. Let’s just say the dancing was definitely heating things up. We danced until the place closed and then I followed him home in my car.

After a shower back at the apartment, I got back into my flannel pajamas. As I was standing in our (only) bathroom, Ward came out and watched me brush my teeth. With a mouthful of toothpaste, I said, “Oh, I’ll hurry so you can use the bathroom.” I finished and moved out of the way.

Ward said, “I’m not waiting for the bathroom. I’m waiting for you to be done brushing your teeth.” And then he leaned over and kissed me. It was a fantastic kiss, the kind that makes your knees weak.

I said in a loud whisper, “My mom is in the next room!” He pulled me into Veronica’s room and we ended up making out all night.

The next day, my mom left with a satisfied smirk. That night, Ward and I went out again and much the same thing occurred.

The day after that, he came into my room when he got home from work. He said, “We can’t do this everyday.” I said okay, but I didn’t understand what that really meant. I guess he needed to study or just didn’t want to get into anything heavy since he was only going to be there a month and a half.

That night, however, things went definitively in the other direction from our conversation. We had a super good time, that night and EVERY single night and day until he left.

My close friends at work made endless fun of me because I was out the door at 5pm on the dot everyday in order to get home right when Ward did. I can still hear my boss laughing about it. Ward was not just exactly what I needed, but he was a nice person as well. He was a lot smarter than me, which was sort of annoying, but only because it was evident. I guess I felt insecure about it. Anyway, we cooked at home most nights and enjoyed each other’s company. He’d even read two of my favorite books. It was surprising how much we could find to talk about. We visited his cousin at the commune sometimes, and we danced frequently, usually in the living room.

Ward left on an Easter Sunday, and it’s a measure of how much I liked him that I didn’t go to church that day. He gave me a beautiful antique geography book since he knew I liked maps so much. I was very sad to see him leave. But, because I knew from the beginning that he would not be staying, I was emotionally prepared to let him go.

I am not in touch with him at all anymore. I haven’t been able to find him for years, to the point where I ask myself if it was all a dream, or if Ward was possibly an angel. He’s disappeared into thin air. It’s probably for the best though. That spring was a perfect time, a stolen season….and you can’t go home again. Things would never be the same.

To this very day I intensely believe that Ward was in my life for the sole purpose of showing me that love is still out there. It’s possible for a heart to heal. It just takes time, a push from your mom, friends to laugh with you, and a lot of Salsa.

Missing Missy

2006-02-24T10:14:00.000-05:00

After the insistence of many friends, I put myself on MySpace. I still need to get my picture up there, but due to technical difficulties, that hasn’t happened yet.

The University of Florida has sort of the same thing for students and alumni, called the Gator Nation Network. In January, a friend of mine from college, Missy, sent me the “add as a friend” email. I hadn’t heard from her in ages. I responded “yes” and meant to email her in the next week or two. I didn’t get around to it….and you know what, she died the next week in a terrible car accident in Utah.

I missed my chance to say goodbye, or hello, or go to hell, or I love you to one of the only sincere girlfriends I had in college.

At UF, I was in a sorority, and it was fine. I made one or two close friends, but my two closest girlfriends from those days no longer speak to me at all. It was all my fault too….

But I never really recovered from loosing them. So during my senior year I effectively moved from the Pepto Bismol Palace into the Lambda Chi house with my dear friend, Red. Thank God he had his own room. Luckily, he decided to take early alumni status and move into a regular house with some (thankfully non-Greek) friends. I slept there almost every night. My mother called me there when she wanted to find me. The only things I did at the sorority house were shower, change, nap, and eat.

Living with Red, Andy, Darryl and Phil was ALWAYS entertaining. Being in a house full of guys, there were always various belles on the premises. My future friend Missy was Phil’s girlfriend. The first time I met her, some seriously mind altering drugs were involved. I distinctly remember a bunch of us taking off our shoes, socks and probably shirts, running across the street to a construction site and dancing around in the rain.

Let me just say, that although that memory was a little strange….the whole experience was indicative of Missy’s nature. She would be up for doing something like dancing naked in the rain if she were stone cold sober. As the guys moved into various different houses (one being an old Halfway House with a one-way mirror)…Missy and I went with them, though we were never on an official lease.

Missy wasn’t girly-girl, though she was very pretty. She had some of the bluest eyes in my memory. What I remember most about Missy was not her looks. I remember her voice, her laugh, her willingness to do anything fun, silly or new. I remember her almost constant smile. She was real. What you saw was what you got: un-sugarcoated, and usually hilarious.

So when I look back at those very mixed up years, it’s not the beautiful girls standing on a manicured lawn welcoming rush-ees that I remember. It’s the real Missy: someone who really was present, mentally and emotionally, when I needed a girlfriend to hear me.

As always, Missy still seems to make the best things happen. When I received news of her death, I heard from Andy, Darryl and Red within the next day. I hadn’t communicated with some of them in years. Shamefully, Red lives here in Atlanta too, and I've done a terrible job of keeping contact, though I hope that’s changing now (!)

So what inspires me to post this, was that today I was looking on MySpace and I found Missy. Most of the comments from her friends were posted after she died. I read them just now with tears running down my face. People I have never even heard of had the same memories of her that I did: as someone who knew no malice and literally spread undiluted sparkliness.

Missy, I miss you. I am ashamed for not taking the time to say how much you meant to me. And I know that you are shining down on us now…just like you did when you were here.

A Long Look Back (Fini)

2006-02-23T10:46:00.000-05:00

Very long post!

For the entire summer, my friend John-Paul picked me up every Saturday morning and took me to the river with his friends Jeromy, Todd and Joe. They all grew up in Roswell and still lived in the Atlanta area. I call them the Urban Rednecks. They lived in this nice house in Chastain, and were mostly computer guys of some sort. But they really were rednecks...and I mean that in the best sense of the word. As Jeff Foxworthy puts it, they embraced a “glorious lack of sophistication.”

John-Paul would get me, and his friends would meet us on some rocks out in the middle of the Chattahoochee near the Horseshoe Bend area. For a month, I almost always fell in the water before we got to the rocks where we sat. Eventually, after I killed two cell phones, Jeromy gave up and usually “fireman carried” me to our spot. I would later find out that “our spot” on the rocks had been their spot since they were in high school.

The Urban Rednecks always set me up with a deck chair, some classic rock and a ton of beer. I just sat there and watched them play fetch with their dogs, or flirt with the other river nymphs, or get into arguments over the best rocks to sit on. There was usually a lot going on.

The most hilarious thing was this group of young high school kids who liked to meet on some rocks near “our spot.” They would walk down from the other side of the river, so we could see them coming. First a couple of boys would swing off the rope swing and generally try to drown each other. Then some of the girls would show up (and fall into the river like I always did). I would observe the general maneuvering between them to see who would sit next to whom….which boys would put suntan lotion on which girls…which guys would try to untie which girls’ top…etc, etc. I had a really good time with it, and would often place bets with my friends on who would leave with whom…and how long it would take them to return…and who would leave together next weekend.

The guys took me and my girlfriend, Schmoop (blog name), out for “Boys Birthday” when I turned 27. They took us to a hockey game…where we did nothing but many Crown Royal shots and tried to swing dance in the lobby….much to the bitter dismay of Philips Arena security. We then took a cab to the Pink Pony where the guys bought me my first lap dance. the night gets fuzzy from there, but I think it involved another lap dance from Blondie at the Clermont Lounge...

Needless to say, the guys really did their best to show me a good time. Todd was famous for throwing midnight gourmet dinner parties. He would just call, at 10:30 pm and say, “Come over for dinner in an hour. I’m making (something-I-could-never-afford, let-alone-cook).” Also, Jeromy convinced one of my girlfriends to participate in Jello wrestling at Uranus in Buckhead. She got her ass handed to her, but still, it was a good story. Joe held a pig pickin’/keg party in their front yard at least once during that summer. The Chastain neighbors were not too thrilled with that, as you might imagine.

After all the hard work of my friends to distract me from my despair, I FINALLY got so sick of hearing myself whine about my own sadness that I literally just decided to go cold turkey and get over it. I told my friend Greg that I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I sent an email to all my friends that it was time to “get out their construction hats because I was going to build a bridge and get over it.” They would need the kind with the lights on the front, because construction was going to be 24/7.

I won’t say that I still didn’t have some work ahead of me, BUT at least I was up to facing it. I think my mother and Kristina were the most relieved by my decision to move on. I’m sure Mom was about to have me committed at one point…and I had practically moved in with Kristina because I didn’t want to ever be by myself.

I suddenly realized the extent of my self-centered-ness. I had been using the resources of all my friends for my own benefit. It was when I saw all the work everyone else had been doing (and that I had NOT been doing) that I knew it had to be all me, from there on out.

So as far as the long look back goes, I’d like to end it with some awards:

The "Endurance" Award goes to Mom, cause DANG, did she get the brunt of it. She’s only ever dated my dad, so this was the worse breakup of her life as well. Talk about trial by fire!

The “Bleeding Ears” Award goes to Kristina for the sheer amount of time she spent listening to my pathetic self. She STILL hears about it, poor thing.

The "Stuck in the Middle With You" Award goes to Tammy and John...cause their daughters are both mine and J's goddaughters. This breakup was almost as hard on them as it was on us.

The “Best Person to Have in Your Corner” Award goes to Schmoop for being mad on my behalf.

The “I Told You So” Award goes to Melissa and Suzet for calling it about 2 years earlier.

The “Starve a Cold, Feed a Heartbreak” Award goes to Veronica for obvious reasons.

The “Building a Bridge and Getting Over it” Award goes to Greg for believing me when I said if was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Greg is also one of the most outstanding prayer partners ever.

The “You Have GOT to Leave the House” Award goes to John-Paul and the Urban Rednecks for exposing me to the pleasures of classic rock, large trucks, Corona and smoked pork.

The “Put Some Alcohol On It” Award goes to F. Yeah, we put a LOT of alcohol on it. Seems to still be working…..

The “Free Drink Shoes” award goes to Courtney for insisting that, yes, eventually, I was going to have to take a shower, shave my legs, put some makeup on, wear something sexy and get back out there.

The “Back in the Saddle” Award goes to Ward, for…well, helping me get there ;)

A Long Look Back (Part 2)

2006-02-17T16:05:00.000-05:00

The weirdest part of breaking up with J was going back to work. At the time, I worked with a lot of close friends…so they literally never got a break from the constant stream (ocean) of my tears. Luckily, my boss was very understanding. She had recently lost her husband to cancer, and was consequently very familiar with losing your best friend and love. She gave me a huge box of Kleenex for my desk, and did not make me perform any actual work duties for about 5 weeks. I just came to work, sat in my cube and cried.

Then, at lunch, I would take a break…..and go cry outside for a change of scenery. I was trying to read the book Shogun, by James Clavell. It’s about 1500 pages long and involves an extremely complicated political plot that takes place in medieval Japan. I though that such an intricate story line would be able to keep my mind off J. But it didn’t. I just kept thinking how much he would enjoy the story.

I would sit in the searing sunshine on the steps of our fancy office building and read a gigantic book with tears running down my face. Pa-the-tic. But, here’s the silver lining. It turns out that I was sitting under the window of my future friend F (of Oasis Analysis fame). He watched me crying down there for about a week. Then, one particularly beautiful day, he came down and spoke to me.

It’s always nice when an exceptionally beautiful man comes over and says hello, especially on an exceptionally beautiful day. But I could not enjoy it at the time. He said softly, “You’re killing me, down here crying.”

I probably didn’t say anything, but mostly likely just sniffled miserably.

He said, “Whatever it is, it’s not that bad.”

I think he was afraid I was contemplating suicide. I was, indeed, praying for death, but would I never consider killing myself.

I just sat there crying onto the pages, wrinkling them up around the edges. We talked for a while and I told him the Cliff’s Notes version of the tragic heartbreak. I don’t remember what else, if anything, F said to me that day….except that J was obviously a total idiot.

Anyway, for months after that, F took me out drinking REGULARLY. It’s almost like he was trying to “wash that man right outta my hair”….only from the inside out and with vodka.

It didn’t work. But, I did meet a great friend that day, whom I might not have met otherwise. And I clearly remember the courage it took to come over and speak a comforting word to a weeping stranger. The measure of a man is in his ability not to flinch in the face of a woman's tears.

I Got A Job! (Official Press Release)

2006-02-17T13:05:00.000-05:00

First, I would like to thank the Academy….

Just kidding.

I wanted to let you all know that I will be starting a new job as a business analyst on February 27th. I’ve been interviewing with them since September…so this only confirms that it pays to be the third most stubborn person in the world (after my mom and brother.) I’m nothing if not tenacious!

So, thank you from the bottom of my pea-pickin’ heart for all the prayers, encouragement, good thoughts, chocolate, well-wishes, food, job postings, and connections you have been sending my way. Thank you all for keeping your ears and eyes out for me. I am so deeply blessed to have such a strong network of friends and family to support me. Some of you have held my hand through a couple of job changes now. I realize you may be a tad tired of it, so I appreciate even more your oft-repeated assistance and/or indulgence.

There is nothing I can say or do to express the extent of my gratitude, so let me just say, if you need help finding a job, I’m really good at looking.

And if you need help finding yourself, I’m REALLY good at listening.

With much love,
PinkGator xoxo

Beach Bunny to Snow Bunny...Sorta

2006-02-14T11:48:00.000-05:00

Last weekend I went skiing for the very first time at Sugar Mountain, North Carolina. I traveled up there on a chartered bus with 26 others for a weekend of skiing and/or snowboarding. Being from Florida, I’ve barely ever seen snow actually falling from the sky. I’d seen it on the ground in a couple of places, but that’s about it. Over the weekend, I think we got about a foot of snow up there. It was pretty amazing….all soft and quiet. I watched the snowflakes fall onto my black coat for a while. They would land and stay just long enough for me to see their beautiful lacey shapes before they melted in with the others.

I borrowed ski clothes from a friend of a friend. Let’s just say they were “vintage.” The jacket was black and wasn’t too bizarre, but the pants were stretchy, kind of like shiny leggings. However, they had this very 80s black-on-black rose pattern stitched into them. I looked a bit like Blair from The Facts of Life. They kept me warm and dry, and they were free, so I did the best I could with the pants. At least I have a good butt. (It ain’t what it used to be, I’ll admit….but I’m doin’ the best I can with what I’ve got.)

I took the “bunny” ski lessons with some other girls in my group. I think I was the only one who’d never been skiing before. The most difficult part of skiing (for me) was just getting the skis ON, that took about 15 minutes. After that, Sarah and I decided to go ahead try out the (very short) bunny slope. I fell four times on the way down, and managed to loose my hat. The second time, I didn’t fall, and did get my hat. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back to it, because it was really hard for me to stay vertical….let alone go someplace specific on the slope.

We then tried the beginner slopes and they were fun, though we had a bit of trouble getting off the ski lifts. I think the whole time I got off twice without falling. Sarah was the better skier, but I was better at getting up….because I spent more time falling than she did! We tried the intermediate slopes and after doing reasonably well, some members of our group talked us into getting off at the next highest stop on the ski lift. They said it wasn’t any steeper, it was just a longer run. So, like dummies, we went for it. Sarah and I had a near panic attack when we saw just how much more steep it really was! We had a spectacular dismount from the ski lift since we weren’t sure when to exit. We jumped off when the lift was already about four feet in the air, got our ski poles crossed, and landed in a pile. I totally tweaked my neck, and bruised my tailbone. I thought seriously about crying for a minute, but that was clearly not going to help. One of the lift operators came over and picked me up by the armpits. In a Southern accent not normally associated with ski slopes, he said, “Miss? Are you gonna make it? Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” I said back….and went to see if Sarah was still in one piece. She was, although one of her skis had gotten away from her. We got to where we were to begin our run when some of the more expert skiers of our group came by from the top of the mountain. One of them actually stared skiing backwards so they could talk to us on the way down! I told them to go ahead or they’d be waiting all day. It did take Sarah and me about 45 minutes (with all the mishaps) to get to the bottom….where we called it a day and I drank the best vodka tonic of my life! Where are those Moonshine Cherries when you need one?!

A Long Look Back (Part 1)

2006-02-06T13:37:00.000-05:00

I am going to go ahead and just say that only things that make a breakup get better are time and perspective. In the past, I’ve thought that retail therapy would help, but it doesn’t. At least not for very long anyway. You can wear the sexiest pair of shoes or undies ever made….but if you’re not feeling confident, they don’t make any difference.

Real therapy does help, but it uses a LOT of Kleenex.

The most significant emotional event of my adult life was when J broke up with me. However, looking back, I am glad that he did it. I would not be the same person today if we stayed together.

It was a Saturday when I told him I wanted to get engaged (after 3.5 years). He seemed amenable to that. Three days later, on Tuesday, March 6, 2000 at 5:37 EST, we were sitting on the bed in my parents’ guest bedroom. He was wearing a blue t-shirt and khaki shorts. I was wearing a flowery sundress. He told me he wanted to end things. I was so in shock, I don’t even remember most of our conversation. The gist was that he loved me but did not want to get married….so I needed to be free to go out and find someone who wanted the same things I did.

I was upset for obvious reasons, but also because I had taken that week off from work in Atlanta so I could spend his Spring Break with him. I had a whole week of being stuck in Cape Canaveral being miserable. That night, and for the remainder of the week, I slept in the bed with my mother because I couldn’t stand to be alone. When my dad came back from his business trip (and wanted his bed back) I slept on the floor in my brother’s room. Could I be anymore pathetic? Turns out, yes, I could and I was.

The morning after the breakup, I called J and he would not return my calls. At one point, I was wearing a nightgown and bunny slippers, driving around like a maniac in my mother’s minivan looking for him. I don’t know how I was “looking for him” since I thankfully never got out of the car. When I got home, my brother came outside, and said, “Would you just take a look at yourself?!” I immeditely ran down the driveway to the beach and all the way to Jetty Park where I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could. I never run and I never yell, so that was new. I was trying desperately to feel something, anything, because I felt like there was a big hole in my heart that nothing would ever be able to fill.

Every day when my mom would leave for work, my brother would baby-sit me. I remember going to a pool party with him. I sat down on a deck chair and didn’t say anything to anyone. His sweet friends tried to cheer me up, to no avail. Once, when my brother had to do something else, he dropped me off at the neighbors at 8:30 in the morning. Luckily, these are lifelong friends. They took me to church with them. I later found out that all the time I spent in church, J spent in a bar. That made me mad at the time, but I don’t blame him. His mother has since told me he failed an entire semester of college after the breakup.

I didn’t sleep for about 3 months. I was so very tired. Every time I did finally manage to doze off, I would dream we were getting back together. Then I would wake up and feel the pain start from the beginning again. I lost about 15 pounds. The only calories that entered my body were alcohol. I never listened to the radio, and asked my friends not to play music in my presence. I had never before realized every song out there was about, love, loss, sex, or affection. It was just too much. I didn’t wear makeup for 2 months, because I would just cry it off. (Gees, I am crying now just writing this!) I cried so many tears, I wondered when they would finally stop. As the body is 70% water, it turns out, I would never quit crying over him...years and years of tears over a man who didn't want me enough to honor me with a marriage.

I realize that this post mainly expresses my sadness, and not how much I loved J. But imagine this: You love someone so so much, you don’t understand how you could possibly be any happier. You are delirious with joy. You have a mountain of love for the person. Then when they’re gone, you have a mountain of emptiness. And even though it’s emptiness, it’s the heaviest thing in the world. The densest material on earth is a broken heart.

(More crying now. See? It still hurts me if I think too much about it….)

Bad Timing

2006-02-03T11:16:00.000-05:00

I need to seriously consider what type of dating vibes I am putting out there. I seem to attract men with at least three of the following traits/idiosyncrasies:

Too many cars
Pilots or people with pilot licenses
NRA members
Sagittariuses
Pack rats
Geeks
Military or ex-military
MEN ON THE REBOUND

Truly, I am fine with the geekiness, and the military stuff. But honestly, do I look like Rebound Girl? Do I look like a good shoulder to cry on?

So last night, I went to dinner with a man I have been dating: a truly stoic, silent person. I let him get pretty tipsy on sake and then said, “Please say whatever it is that you need to say, because you’re being weird.” I didn’t think I would get anywhere with that scheme, but it worked.

Who knows how much of this is sunshine being blown up my arse, but he said “I am a f*cked up mess right now. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m still a disaster over my ex girlfriend.” This was followed by actual head-in-hands with tears.

I felt terrible for the guy. I felt bad for me, because I liked him. But I felt worse for him. I told him I had been in that desperate broken-hearted place and cried for literal weeks on end. He said, “See, girls let it all out. Guys just keep it inside and it kills us.”

I said that I didn’t think guys EVER got as upset over girls as girls get over guys. However, I would soon see that this particular guy might be in the running.

We went back to his place and drank about two bottles of wine while he told me his sad story. He showed me his photo albums and told me about all the pictures. Really, his ex just sounds like a manipulative and immature, spoiled-rotten brat. And he is a super sweet person! I know there are two sides for every story, but I felt awful for him. THEN, (and this is amazing to me) he played me his “break-up songs” iPod mix on his stereo. I didn’t think guys did that stuff. At one point, I said, jokingly, “Please tell me you have Pictures of You by the Cure on there.” He looked at me dead serious and said, “Of course I do.”

I remember one of my college roommates lying on the floor of our dorm room and listening to the Indigo Girls for DAYS. Consequently, their song, Ghost, is one my favorite break up tunes. Ugh, and also Ghost Story by Sting. I cry EVERY time I hear that one.

We listened to the songs for a while, and he told me more about his breakup and how he was trying to cope. I'm sure he was feeling pretty low (and drunk), because at one point he looked at me and said, “You’re a pretty girl. You could be out with someone right now. What are you doing sitting here with me?”

I said, “I’m a really good listener. Maybe I’m in your life just to hear you.” He conceded that that was possible.

At about 1am, I put on some of his boxers and a t-shirt and said, “I’m going to bed." He was lying face down on his sofa. I pulled him up, tucked him in, and then we both went to sleep.

I am sad :( I liked that guy, and I think he liked me. If my love life was a movie, the title would be Bad Timing.

The horrible, sleepless, tear-stained, heart-breaks of my life help me truly hear and understand someone else’s pain.

There really is more room in a broken heart.

Break Up Lyrics (see above post)

2006-02-03T11:09:00.000-05:00

Ghost by Indigo Girls

There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of a drawer...the last truce we ever came to in our adolescent war. And I start to feel a fever from the warm air through the screen. You come regular like seasons, shadowing my dreams.

And the Mississippi's mighty, but it starts in Minnesota at a place where you could walk across with five steps down. And I guess that's how you started... like a pinprick to my heart. But at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown.

And there's not enough room in this world for my pain. Signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain. Of all my demon spirits, I need you the most. I'm in love withyour ghost.

Dark and dangerous like a secret that gets whispered in a hush...when I wake, the things I dreamt about you last night make me blush. You kiss me like a lover then you sting me like a viper. I go follow to the river... play your memory like the piper.

And I feel it like a sickness how this love is killing me. But I'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly. I dance the edge of sanity. I've never been this close ...in love with your ghost.

Unknowing captor, you'll never know how much you pierce my spirit but I can't touch you. Can you hear it? A cry to be free. I'm forever under lock and key as you pass through me.

Now I see your face before me. I would launch a thousand ships to bring your heart back to my island as the sand beneath me slips. As I burn up in your presence and I know now how it feels to be weakened like Achilles, with you always at my heels.

And my bitter pill to swallow is the silence that I keep that poisons me. I can't swim free. The river is too deep. Though I'm baptized by your touch, I am no worse at most ...in love with your ghost.

First Dates

2006-01-30T09:42:00.000-05:00

It’s kind of nice when you go on a first date…and he brings you a box of Godiva truffles :)

....and when you find that your last first date is most likely sleeping with someone else....it's good to have expensive chocolates around.

Four Things

2006-01-24T15:18:00.000-05:00

Four jobs you have had:
Congressional Intern, Cocoa, Florida
The very definition of sexual harassment
Research Associate, Tallhassee, Florida
Trying to keep his wife from meeting his mistress
Operations Analyst, Atlanta, Georgia
It was difficult to work when there was so much eye candy around….
Nanny, Smyrna, Georgia
Learn to get comfortable with the meaning of “NO”

Four movies you could watch over and over:
Star Wars
My brother and I know every line
Little Women
Jo March reminds me of someone I know extremely well….
Harry Potter movies
Why does Herimone seem so familiar??
Shakespeare in Love
I wish I had a man to write me sonnets.

Four places you've lived:
Cape Canaveral, Florida
Perfect for falling asleep in driveway watching meteor showers.
Nordwijk aan Zee, Netherlands
Cold. Good chocolate. Got my wish for a baby brother.
Gainesville, Florida
With a dirt yard, my beloved, and no dish washer.
Tallahassee, Florida
Okay, THIS was the hottest place in Florida….and the coldest.

Four television shows you love to watch:
Law and Order: SVU
I'm an addict
Sex & the City
I cried when Big married Natasha.
I don’t really watch that much tv….

Four places you've been on vacation:
Bahamas
I lost half of a blue bikini on that one…
Cancun, Mexico
The world’s most disgusting bathroom is in a Mexican bus stop near Tulum
Paris, France
The second most disgusting bathroom is ANY Paris train station
Chicago, Illinois
He was SO not worth the sky miles to get there…

Four of your favourite foods:
Massaman Curry
If it’s Thai and curry in the same dish, I’m in heaven.
Pasta
I get cranky from lack of carbs
Seafood
If I could only eat one type of food for the rest of life, this would be it.
Diet Coke
I hope this counts as a food.

Four places you'd rather be right now:
Tokyo, Japan
I want to see Tammy, John and my goddaughters!
The beach
….with a margarita, big blanket and some SPF 50
Australia
Isn’t it summer there right now?
In bed
and preferrably not by myself

You Never Get A Second Chance.....

2006-01-24T11:06:00.000-05:00

Okay, I just tripped over my way-too-long headphone cord and went sprawling, ass over tea kettle, into the hallway....where I met my boss' boss for the first time. I stood up, pushed my hair out of my face and introduced myself.

The upside is, I don't think she'll forget me!

The Scarlet Dress

2006-01-23T13:07:00.000-05:00

Lately, I have been often asked about my experiences with online dating. Although many of you may be all too familiar with my experience, I’m sure some of you need a chuckle to start off your week. A few years ago, I decided to use Matchmaker.com. I met five gentlemen in person. These are my stories. (Cue Law & Order sound effect)

Bachelor #1 had an extremely irritating style of punctuating his sentences. They all had way too many exclamation points and question marks!!!!!!!!!!!!! How are you today??????????? What’s going on with you???????? You are such a cute girl!!!!!!!!! When can we meet????????

Despite this, he was pretty cute in the pictures and I decided to go on a practice date. It had been a while since I had dated, and I just needed to get back into the game. I knew I was having a case of nerves when I couldn’t even pick out an outfit…to meet a guy I wasn’t really excited about meeting in the first place. After Veronica nixed the first 3 outfits, she finally decided to dress me herself. So, I went out waaaaaaaaaaaay too dressed up for Taco Mac, but I didn’t know that since I had never been there before.

So I went there, met the guy, and noticed immediately that his eyes didn’t track together. Poor guy. Anyway, let’s just say that in person, he was as annoying as his punctuation. I had a vodka tonic, he had a Coke. We ended things early and walked out to the parking lot where he happened to be parked next to me. He had to blow into a sensor on his car to get it to unlock. I didn’t get it and asked him about it. He’d had 5 DUIs and had to have this on his car as part of his “parole.” Wow. Now I know that’s not just an urban legend….I have truly seen an alcohol sensor on someone’s car.

Bachelor #2 was unremarkable in that he was a normal, polite, decent-looking dude. He was a law student who even brought me flowers on our first official date. At the end of that night, we said to each other there was just no chemistry …so “good luck out there!”

Bachelor #3 was good looking on paper and was very nice looking in person. We agreed to meet for the first time at Fado in Buckhead. It was pouring rain that night. The doorman at Fado was HOT as FIRE, and I decided that if I got stood up, I would ask him out. Unfortunately, I was not stood up. After looking everywhere in a packed bar, he finally found me. The first thing he said was, “Oh good! You’re not fat!” with a huge sigh of relief. I thought that was one of the rudest comments ever. What if I had been? What if one of my loved ones was HUGE? Would he judge them harshly….and just by their looks? Things kind of went down hill from there. He wanted to talk about politics. I did not for two reasons.

1) You’re never going to change anyone’s mind at this point in their lives.
2) And most importantly, this was a FIRST DATE!

He asked if I didn’t want to talk politics because I didn’t understand it, since, as he said, "most women don't." Because I didn't have my diplomas in Poly Sci and Public Administration with which to smack him, I needed to find a way out…and quickly. After he told me he thought the EPA should be shut down I just decided to repel him with the opposite political view. I told him I was a member of the National Wildlife Federation (true), N.O.W. (false), and Sierra Club (false). To make a long story short, when I saw his yellow truck type vehicle with tires that could seriously have belonged in a monster truck rally, I just called it a night. Unbelievably, he called me to go out again, and I politely declined.

I did truly like Bachelor #4, but of course, he didn’t like me back. Damn.

I met Bachelor #5 with a bit of apprehension. His online pictures were taken from a substantial distance (hmm) but they were in front of some impressive world travel sites. The Taj Mahal, the Egyptian pyramids, and Easter Island were all places I wanted to visit. So we met at Apres Diem for a beverage. After talking for a bit, he told me that his last girlfriend moved in with him after the first date. Apparently she just showed up on his doorstep with her stuff and came on in. Hello DOORMAT! The icing on the cake was when he told me that I should have worn something more conservative to meet him . I was wearing a red sundress and matching cardigan sweater. Maybe he was expecting Hester Prynne? I was dressed about a million times more stylishly than he was (which is fine since most guys need work anyway), but I was hurt by his comment, and the nasty way he said it.

And so, that ended my brief “affair” with Matchmaker.com. At least it was a free membership. I think most of my girlfriends have had better luck with Match.com. Two if them have met husbands on there :)

Employment Purgatory

2006-01-17T10:49:00.000-05:00

The place where I am working a temp job is providing an unsatisfactory work environment. I have a huge desk (good) in a hallway corridor (bad) instead of a cube (which I am used to). Everyone that walks by and everyone who has an office up and down the hall can most likely hear what I am saying. This is bad, as my duties are mind-numbingly boring…and I could talk on the phone and do work at the same time if I had a headset (which I don’t…kinda ridiculous for a communications company.) Consequently, I can’t talk to Kristina five times a day about nothing, which is kind of annoying, actually. I need to hear about someone’s daily minutiae to keep my mind occupied.

Then, there is the fact that I don’t have any sort of view to the outside world. It’s just me and the fluorescent lights. If I were a plant, I’d definitely be pale and sickly. This flower needs sunlight! However, I am truly grateful to have income in the first place, so I’m not technically complaining, I’m venting. Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

I have three coworkers…all very nice, if two are painfully shy. I take that back. IT Guy is painfully shy, and HR Girl is painfully focused on work. My boss is quite friendly and outgoing. He realizes that the work is boring….not that there’s anything he can do about it except to advise me to get an iPod and listen to some music while I work. If I could afford and iPod and a computer on which to download music, I wouldn’t be working here in the first place. Sigh.

It’s my goal to get IT Guy to talk. He kinda reminds me of an almost silent version of my cousin Eddie: Big enough to go bear hunting with a switch, cat-owning, football-watching, khaki-and-polo-wearing, too-smart-for-his-own-good, IT type dude. He seems sweet, and always talks to me when I ask him questions, but doesn’t look anyone in the eye very often. Oh well, I will figure out how to draw him out as my project while I am here. Maybe I can wear my Starfleet Academy t-shirt and see if that works? Need to dig that thing out of the closet….

The Bad Beginning

2006-01-12T09:49:00.000-05:00

Last Friday night, Elektra and I went to a friend’s birthday party at a restaurant called Fuego, in Midtown. I saw a few acquaintances there, but not too many I know well enough to call friends. However, at one point in the evening, an attractive man came over, sat down next to me, and started chatting me up. We talked for quite a while. He’s an airline pilot. Like I need to date someone with less job security than I have! Still, the buddy passes might be worth it....

Much later, as I was filling out the tip on my bill, he came over to me.

Him: Are you writing down your phone number for me?

Me: Are you asking me for it?

Him: Maybe ;)

Me: Well, let me know when you are.

Him: Okay, can I have you phone number please?

So I wrote it down on the edge of the bill, tore it off and gave it to him. After the mandatory three day waiting period (of course) he called and we talked a while. Eventually, he came around to the point.

Him: So what are you doing this weekend?

Me: I have a friend coming in town to visit me on Saturday. (Much talk about entertaining an out of town-er when it’s supposed to rain all weekend)

Him: What are you doing on Friday?

Me: I am working during the day… (?)

Him: Do you maybe want to hang out on Friday night?

Me: Are you asking me on a date?

Him: Maybe.

Me: Well, let me know when you are.

(long pause, then irritated sigh)

Him: Would you like to go out with me on Friday night?

Me: That would be lovely.

Gentlemen, if you are over 28 years old, please just have the guts to ask a girl out. I swear, she’ll be impressed. Even more so if you actually have a plan for the date.

So, we’ll just have to see what happens. He may flake out on me altogether; he may call me Friday at 7pm and say, “What do you want to do tonight?” In which case, I probably won’t be happy, and I definitely won’t be wearing cute undies….

All the News That's Fit to Print

2006-01-08T21:05:00.000-05:00

I just now realized that the music playing during the credits for Mean Girls, is the same music at the end of the Mortal Combat movies. Bizarre.

So, since I last posted, we had New Year’s Eve. Mine was nice, but my New Year’s Night was not too great. I had an extremely sad moment, where I felt like my whole life ahead of me was a blank page with nothing written on it. No job, no man, no roommates, and soon, no apartment. No direction in which to go. Thank you to my girlfriends who listen to me, as I try to find my way.

Rather than wallow in self pity, I decided to volunteer with the United Way to help resettle some of the Katrina evacuees who have come to Atlanta. The United Way, along with the Atlanta Council of Churches, have gotten some local landlords to agree to lease to evacuees, with the rent paid by FEMA. So Wednesday and Friday of last week, that’s what I was up to. The experience truly helped me to count my blessings, instead of focusing on the things that I am missing. Most of these people have lost everything. One man lost a house, his wife, his business and two cars. I felt so selfish after I heard that…so self absorbed. Sigh. Needless I say, I am ashamed of myself for getting so down and not having enough patience to wait until the sun comes out again.

Some good news occurred last Thursday. I finally did hear from that start up company with whom I hoped to be working. They apologized for the delay (which was as long as a geologic epoch) and told me they were still interested in hiring me, but couldn’t do so until after their next round of funding, which will be in February. However, they gave me all the disclaimers and did NOT give me an offer or any guarantees. Consequently, I am a little happier, but my job search is still going full steam ahead.

Addtionally, on Monday I will start a new 5 week contract job....so I guess I will be employed just a little while longer.

Need a Roommate

2006-01-04T10:38:00.000-05:00

Hello Everyone.

It seems I am very needy these days.

Firstly, I apologize to those of you who got the employment help email again yesterday. That’s what I get for trying to send emails without achieving the proper amount of coffee intake beforehand. However, since the message is essentially still the same, (I am still unemployed) I guess it didn’t hurt anything.

On top of everything else, I need a new roommate. Sigh. My current roommates are moving out to a much cheaper place over in Marietta. They will be out by the end of February, but can be out sooner if need be.

I am registered on RoommateClick.com (which was formerly known as the rather unfortunately named "Easy Roommate"). That is web site on which my current roommate and I found each other. Anyhoo, here is what I said in the profile, which I think just about covers the subject:

I am female, 32, white, straight, non-smoker. I am pretty neat and clean but not a freak about it. I have a washer and dryer. The master bedroom suite is large and has a walk in closet, very large bathroom w/garden tub. Mirrored dining room. Living room w/vaulted ceiling and bay window. Fully furnished except for your room. Address is at GA 400 at Exit 6 (Northridge Rd). It’s very convenient to Alpharetta, Roswell, Dunwoody and Sandy Springs without being too far outside the Perimeter. Rent is $500.

And as for what I am looking for:
Someone fun, social and fairly neat, and mostly low-drama. You can smoke on the big balcony. I don't use drugs. Please be drug free as well :) I would prefer a professional person who works days. No kids or pets please…although I would consider a pet if I really liked the person.

So friends, please again, try to keep an ear or eye out for me. Check around with your friends if anyone needs a place to live. I would rather room with someone one of us already knows! Copy this into an email and send it to your friends.

Leave me a note in the comments section, if you know of anyone.

Neighbors

2005-12-31T15:16:00.000-05:00

It's quite possible my neighbors are hating me at the moment. I'm watching Return of the King with the surround sound on while I bake an apple pie. They probably think my apartment has been overrun by Orcs...Orcs that smell like apples.

Looking Ahead

2005-12-30T18:54:00.000-05:00

My Christmas was very nice and mostly drama free. I went to see my extended family in Maryville, Tennessee. My parents and brother came up to visit as well, and so we all got LOTS of family time.

My grandmother lives at home, and has two home health care nurses who stay with her, Wendy and Linda. Wendy is Linda’s niece and she raises Boxers. My grandmother bought one and named her Loxie Belle. Let me just tell you, the dog is almost more high maintenance than Grandmother….and that’s saying’ somethin’. Loxie is always on the wrong side of the door, always whining, Grandmother feeds her from the table. She (the dog) is utterly spoiled. The home health care ladies do everything for Grandmother and Loxie Belle.

My father, brother and I are NOT dog people, despite my inability to pass an abandoned animal on the side of I-75. My mother likes dogs, having had them as pets while she was growing up. So Dad, Matt and I were basically biting oour tongues the whole time we were there.

Anyway, now I am back in Atlanta and have just had my last meeting with my friend who owns the small start up firm I wanted to work with. Sadly, they don't have the budget to pay me at the moment and won't until September-ish. (sigh)

I am nervous about my living situation. I want to move back inside the perimeter, but can't do so without having a new job, since no place will let me sign a lease without a job. So here I will remain, possibly without a roommate, since she wants to move further up 400 in order to be closer to work. I will need to find someone to live with me as well. I will most likely use Roommate Click like I did last time to find a roommate. Last week, I applied for a job waiting tables, and even they won't call me back :( I am anxious about everything, but am doing the best that I can.

So, this morning I got up, donated blood, took some pants to be hemmed, picked up my interview suit from the dry cleaners, took out the recycles, and went grocery shopping. I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a book and sat in the sun and read for a while. Now I am doing the email, looking for work online, and getting started with online dating. Since I expect to be spending many hours in front of the computer in the near future, I decided some of them need to be enjoyable :) So wish me luck...as I hope 2006 will bring me a job and a man (in any order, Lord, if you're listening :)

Happy New Year everyone.

:(

2005-12-17T13:02:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was my last day at work. It was weird and kind of scary. No one called to see how it was going.

Today I am so lonely. I didn't think it was possible to be this lonely, but apparently it is.

If I didn't have an interview on Tuesday, I would have left for Tennessee already.

Knock Knock!

2005-12-16T14:31:00.000-05:00

Hi God. It’s me :)

Thank you for helping me gracefully out of an ethically tough position. Thank you thank you thank you!

Thank you for the 4 weeks of severance pay.

Thank you for the new friends. And the old ones.

Thank you for the patience….I need some more though.

Please help my family not to drive each other insane during the Christmas break.

Please help Dad not to criticize Mom’s driving during the trip to Tennessee, and keep them safe.

Please keep our military safe and protect the unity of their families while they are away.

Thank you for never letting things get so bad that I forget to be thankful.

Thank you for all the people praying for me.

Thank you for another day of living and loving.

Love you!

Matthew 7:7-8
"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened. "

Goodies for Little Girls (and Me)

2005-12-13T21:34:00.000-05:00

Since I am not buying Christmas presents this year...I decided to take a toy to Toys for Tots. I went to Target. I did not find the lip gloss I wanted for myself, nor did I find a suitable birthday card for my friend Katie Kate.

So, after looking at the housewares, I went to find a toy. Hmm, if I were a little girl, what would I want? I would want a Magic Pegasus Barbie! So that's what I got :)

Those Bratz dolls are horrible. They're cheap and they look like cheap little tarts! Did NOT buy one of those. They don't have noses either. Bizarre.

One other thing I noticed about every doll with dark hair (Barbies included) was that they had terrible trashy highlights. It looked like chocolate and vanilla swirl landed on their heads...like Kelly Clarkston before her makeover.

It makes me sad that a lot of brunette girls (doll, girls and ladies) have highlights because they think brown or black hair is boring. I like my brown hair. It actually makes me stand out a bit, because everyone else is trying to be blonder.

Aim High

2005-12-12T14:30:00.000-05:00

Extremely long post!

I think I promised to write one day about the time I tried to join the Air Force. So here we go!

I had always wanted to join the military. It seemed like a good stable option, and the thought of traveling and living in exotic places was, and is, very appealing. I hadn’t tried to join earlier because I was usually dating someone either already in the military or just out of the military. So, in June 2001, I was recently laid off and recently single. My friends in the military all said the same thing: a woman should definitely join Air Force. I was told the Marines and Army were a difficult path for females, because they are just very physically demanding. And my two very close friends in the Navy said definitely NOT to join the Navy. So Air Force it was.

I called a local recruiter and got the ball rolling. Holy Moly, what a process! Had my transcripts sent, went through a security check, filled out about a million questionnaires, and then signed up for the Air Force Officers Entrance Exam.

I went to the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) in Fort Gilliam, which is on the southwest side of Atlanta. I had to be there at 5am for the test.

I arrived in the dark, to find about 75 very young men, recently shorn, awaiting a bus for Parris Island. I felt sorry for them, but shouldn’t have. They were very proud, and most were excited. Some seemed nervous. They all seemed so young. If I was about to be shipped out to the Marines, I probably would have been in tears with nerves. (Clue #1 that Pink Gator maybe was barking up the wrong tree.)

I went inside to find more guys and a couple of girls waiting in various lines, I think mostly to check in. I went to the test center and found about 6 other people closer to my age waiting as well. None of them were going Air Force. But we all were trying to get in somewhere with a commission.

There were six sections of my test. Two were language related. Two were math. One was spatial, and one was what I think was something to see how quickly and accurately you could read gauges and measurements. I explained to the female Marine that I didn’t want to be a pilot, so I didn’t think I needed to take the last two sections. She said, “Well, there might be a point when you’ll have to be one, so we test everybody from the get-go.”

Hmm. The language tests were easy. For the math tests, I flipped through to see if there were any problems I could successfully complete. Nope! So I answered them all B. The spatial test was okay and the gauges weren’t difficult, but I couldn’t finish them all in the time allotted.

Two weeks later, I got a phone call from my recruiter saying that my test scores had been lost and I needed to come back and retest. (Clue # 2). So I went back and did the same thing again. This time, the testing officer asked why I put all Bs for the math. As I have mentioned earlier in the blog, I told her that at least that way I would get ¼ of them correct instead of none of them. She seemed to think that was a novel answer and took my test off to process.

I ended up scoring perfect on the verbal (though it wasn’t at all difficult, so I can’t really be too proud). However, I do remember my recruiter saying….”so, not much for the math, eh?”

I was then scheduled to come down for a physical assessment, which would take all day. My recruiter gave me no other advice, so off I went, totally uninformed.

First we had another questionnaire to fill out. In front of a class of about 70 young guys and girls who were all about 18 and trying to flirt with each other, a scary Army officer gave us some advice about leaving out any, um, “run-ins with our legal system, as long we hadn’t been convicted of anything.” There was also advice about addictions, previous marriages, and abusive relationships. I was horrified they would take abusive, former drug addicts into the military. I personally made the mistake of admitting to using an inhaler in the medical portion of the questionnaire. (Clue #3)

I signed in for the physical exam with about 20 other girls. I was the only white person. A tiny Hispanic girl said to me, “Are you a nurse, a doctor or a lawyer?” I said I was not any of those things. She seemed puzzled and said, “I’m a gynecologist. I figured the only way a white girl would want to get commissioned into the military was if she was one of those. You look like an attorney, so I thought I’d ask.”

We were ushered into a large room, not unlike a ballet studio, except with curtained partitions to one side. They said to strip down to bras and panties and come out….which made me wonder why curtains were there at all since everyone was going to see each other anyway. Two girls were sent home for wearing a sports bra. I was glad I didn’t wear one, since I had given the idea some serious thought. Would have been nice if my recruiter had told me that! We were all weighed and measured. I had my body fat measured. One rather large girl had to do a bunch more physical tests because she was overweight. I felt so sorry for her that she was singled out, with the doctor actually calling out her height and weight and fat percentages. Doctors asked us to walk, run, stand on one foot, hop around, and skip. Very weird stuff. Could I touch my toes? Yes. Could I reach the floor? Yes. Doctors looked at the bottoms of my feet, my hands, my spine, my freckles and moles, the scar on my neck, in my ears, in my eyes. Then we stood there, almost naked and practically freezing while the doctors wrote down EVERY tattoo on EVERY girl. That took forever, and I don’t even have any tattoos. The doctor looked me up and down and said, “Air Force Officer?”

“Yes ma’am. Hopefully, “ I said with a questioning smile.

“I can spot you girls a mile away….No tattoos and only ear piercings.”

Then I had a hearing test, and EKG, and an eye exam. I didn’t bring my glasses, which I only use for distances, even though I found out later I could have worn them during the exam. Again, my recruiter failed to give me any info about that either.

I had to leave a urine sample, which an officer WATCHED me leave…a totally new experience for me. Two more girls were sent home due to pregnancy. We were dropping like flies.

Then as the final fun note, I had the biggest joke of a female exam EVER. The doctor took a millisecond peek, said “Yes, she looks fine,” ….and sent me on my way.

So after being inspected for sale all day long, an Army officer came to tell me I had failed the exam.

I was mortified. I passed all the physical exams we had. He said, “Miss R, you failed the exam because you have used an inhaler for breathing.”

I said, getting louder with every sentence, that I was six years old when that happened, that I had been fine otherwise…

…and then, screaming, “You all are passing up a woman, with a Master’s Degree that might actually be of some benefit to the U.S. Military, with no dependants and no debt….for these…these…17-year-old hooligans!!!!!!!!?????” I gestured to the line of boys waiting for their eye exams.

The man tried to explain to me that none of that mattered since they were in perfect health and I was not. I was “absolutely outraged that they would take smokers and alcoholics but not me…..who had used an inhaler when I was six!!!!”

Suddenly, one of the tallest women I had ever seen asked me to come into her office. She was very striking, black and beautiful….and her Marine officer’s uniform made her even more intimidating. I was preparing myself for some screaming in my direction….I certainly deserved it for the delightful performance I put on in the hallway.

She looked right at me and said very quietly, “Miss R, this is not God’s plan for you. You will be fine. You will find your way, but this is not your path.” And then she sat there with me until I was ready to drive home.

I drove home and called my mother. I called F. I called my ex-boyfriend. And then I called my recruiter and had another tantrum, and expressed my “extreme disappointment at his complete inability to tell me what to expect.”

After everything shook out, even a subpoena of my childhood medical records and letters from my congressman on my behalf could not sway the opinion of the MEPS medical staff.

And I was out of the military, before I ever got in. Since then, I will grudgingly admit that my asthma has bothered me more and more. And I have discovered that sometimes, God looks like a tall, black, female Marine.

My Resume: A Series of Unfortunate Events

2005-12-07T15:55:00.000-05:00

Note to self: Apply liquid eyeliner BEFORE drinking two cups of coffee.

These days, I am not doing anything at work. Seriously. My project is over, my last day is December 16th. I do about 10 minutes of metrics reporting, just for continuity’s sake…and because proper data collection is its own reward.

My coworkers are returning to other job sites one by one. Consequently I am truly working banker’s hours. I roll in about 9:45ish. I do my reporting, check my email, harass my cube neighbors, look for work on the internet, post for anything that looks remotely interesting, take a loooong lunch, (I need lunch partners!) then get online and look for what I WOULD be buying for Christmas presents, had I an actual job offer. Monday, I left at 2:30 to go see Aeon Flux. I was the only one in the theater which is always an awesome experience. I did cartwheels in the aisle, because I could.

Today was slightly better. I had a net meeting type of second interview with an intriguing technology start-up. Then I cleaned out my desk, and rewrote a cover letter for my boss who is also looking for a new job. I think she’s impressed by my propensity for “purple prose and pansies”, i.e. “bullcrap.” Then I did some Christmas cards.

I put up my tree on Monday night while watching the heartwarming Christmas movie, The Matrix. I put off doing the tree because it is truly a lonesome thing to put up a tree by yourself….and I had already decorated my parents’ tree over Thanksgiving. Luckily, my roommate helped me with the lights while I expounded upon the fairly tale/Greek mythology/Biblical themes in The Matrix. She finally asked if she needed to know all that stuff to understand the movie. I got the hint and continued to decorate the tree.

Yesterday, I left early to go get Christmas presents from my teammates for my boss. We got her the biggest possible bottle of Gentleman Jack and the biggest possible box of Godiva chocolates. At least, that’s what I’d want if I already had everything. Then I continued in my noble quest for the perfect chocolate brown purse without contrast stitching. Alas, no purse. Not that I should be buying luxury items for myself anyway at this present juncture.

I finshed reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, so I am all ready for the movie. I also just finished The Austere Academy, Book the Fifth in Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. In fact, I think that's what I will title my resume, now that I think about it.

Last week I read To Kill a Mockingbird for the book club meeting I have tonight. I wonder if we'll actually discuss the book, if if we'll just drink heavily and talk about men. I let you know tomorrow :)

Cease From Distressing

2005-11-28T22:38:00.000-05:00

Hello Kitties.

I am home from a long weekend in Cape Canaveral with the family unit. Wednesday, I flew out at Oh-dark-thirty. Mom picked me up and we went for a leisurely lunch and shopping…where for the first time in, well, EVER we went shopping and bought nothing. Not one single solitary thing. Hmmpf. Shoulda bought a lottery ticket that day.

I cooked my first pumpkin pie, which was fabulous, in case you were wondering. I do make a fantastic pie, just ask Rob, former sweetest boyfriend in the universe. We ate dinner with friends late on Thursday. I did pretty well not over eating. The medicine I was taking kind of made me loose my appetite….darn antibiotics! We had a friend from Germany with us, and we were very happy she brought us some homemade apple strudel. My brother, of course, bolted immediately after the meal for much cooler company. As IF!

Thankfully ONE of my high school friends was in town to go with me to the Cocoa Beach block party. I met him "downtown" and gave him my keys to hold because they were making a huge lump in my pocket. The night progressed and I ran into about a million old acquaintances and reiterated, yet again that no I was still not married, thank you very much for inquiring. The upside of that is….I’m not divorced either….

Later that evening, my friend thought I’d left (don’t really know how that could have been since he had my keys. Guess he thought I went home with some random dude?) So when he ran into my brother he gave him my keys. The events from the rest of the evening are slightly fuzzy thereafter. My watch is scratched all to hell. My shoes are scuffed beyond belief. There was a text message from my brother (who, incidentally hadn’t made it home either) that he had my keys. My friend took me home at 6am….minus my parents' minivan….that I was oh-so-cool driving around in.

At 8am, both my parents drove me to get the van…with me holding my head the whole way. Then Mother decided to drag me shopping again. Let me just tell you that I have never picked put what I wanted for Christmas so quickly.

Later that evening when I was driving literally two blocks over, my dad said, "Don’t come home without the van." I was peeved. Wasn’t he happy that I didn’t drive drunk? That my friend took care of me and drove me home? That I left the van in a safe place? That at least I CAME HOME at all as opposed to my darling brother….who was still heaven-knows-where.

I guess maybe dads just don’t get it. My mom was just peachy with the situation. Or maybe fathers are just more strict with daughters as opposed to sons? And I was the one who stayed home to decorate the tree that day! I went to the art show later with my mother and ran into an ex boyfriend...which was nice, not icky or strange.

Anyway, I am home in Atlanta now. Not sick anymore and feeling better. Work was slow today. I left early, came home, cleaned my bathroom, unpacked, made chili, went through the mail and have tried to keep myself from feeling lonesome during these cold dark days when it gets dark so early.

Queen of the Tissue Pile

2005-11-15T20:33:00.000-05:00

Hello all. I am sitting at home, in bed, surrounded by a million tissues on the floor. I am the Queen of the Tissue Pile. I smell like Vicks Vaporub. I have no makeup on. I am wearing a pink shirt that says "Libra" on the front, and pink flannel pants. Looking good!

Sunday night, I was driving home from Kristina’s. She made some awesome lasagne for dinner, and I was going home to digest and make it an early night. I started feeling kind stuffy and headachy then. I was up all night worrying about not having found a new job yet, so that didn’t really help me to feel better. Monday, I went to work and left at 1pm, I felt so bad. But not before I sent out an email asking my friends for help looking for a new job. Thank you, everyone, for the responses, especially Nicci for all her hard work, and to Steve for calling. Poor Steve caught me at a teary moment. Thanks also to Ben and Christine...the professional job finders I have helping me :)

Didn’t sleep again last night between the worrying and the coughing. This morning I went to the doctor….bronchitis. Joy. It took me an hour at Walgreen’s to get all the medicines filled, so I was feeling horrible by the time I got home. It currently feels like someone is standing on my chest and pounding on the inside of my head. I have been reading a little, but that’s not working out so well since my head hurts so bad. I was lonely today, watching movies and lying alternately on the sofa and in the bed. I should be applying for jobs…but am suffering from "medicine head"…as you may have noticed by this disjointed blog posting. On DVD I’ve watched Millions, Saving Face, Mean Girls and Elizabeth. I tried to read The Magician’s Nephew and Blink.

So, just wanted you all to know where I am if you’ve been trying to call me at work. Hopefully I will be able to do some job hunting tomorrow if I am feeling better. I’m off to eat some chicken soup and blow my nose some more.

Bumble Bee Ball

2005-11-09T10:42:00.000-05:00

My weekend last weekend was very outside. This time of year in Atlanta is usually nice, but not usually this warm. So I will NOT be complaining about the cold weather deciding to spare us for a while.

Saturday, I went to the Cabbagetown Chili Festival with Ben. It was a beautiful day, and we ran into a bunch of people we knew. I have to say, it was a much more “in town” crowd as opposed the Stone Mountain Chili Cook Off. Ben ate a lot of chili, while I just drank beer…even though I don’t even really love beer. Luckily, at this outdoor festival, it’s perfectly acceptable to just lie down on the grass and have a snooze. And of course I did.

Saturday night I went to Taverna Plaka, a super fun Greek place. They took freaking forever to bring out the food, so of course we were all toasty by the time it came out. Fortunately, this enabled to me to stand on top of the table and dance with the belly dancers. Um, anyway….

Sunday after church I went to watch Taylor’s final soccer game of the season. Let me just tell you, a soccer league made up entirely of 4-year-old girls is some hysterical entertainment. The game was between the Pink Ponies and the Purple Princesses. (That’s what happens when you let the girls pick their own team names). Several little girls had on matching hair bows that were bigger than their heads. They had their names on the backs of their jerseys. A little girl named Elizabeth had her name from the end of one sleeve, across her back and all the way down the other sleeve. I couldn’t stop laughing it was so adorable! Most of the girls’ shorts were so long, that they came down over the tops of their shin guards. They looked like itty bitty pink and purple storm troopers (with hair bows).

Once the game started, the girls kinda swarmed around the ball. They were good at getting it down the field, but not at turning it around. There was nary a pass in the whole game. But, for the most part, they were quite good at the general idea of soccer. Lord knows, I would have been face down in the dirt trying to play. One thing that struck me as funny was that none of the girls would try to kick the ball if someone else was dribbling it. I think all those conversations about “don’t push, wait your turn, that was very nice sharing” were finally paying off.

The Ponies’ goalie was very very good. She saved the ball about 6 times. The refs were not super concerned with the ball going out of bounds. As long as it didn’t go too far out of bounds….play continued. At one point, I said, “I think they’re offsides.” The moms said they don’t bother with offsides until the 6-year-old league. Got it. My brother explained offsides to me enough times that I finally understood when I was about 23.

So, Taylor scored a goal for the Ponies in the first half. I was so excited; I was jumping up and down like, well, like a crazed soccer mom. I was so proud, and she’s not even my kid. I did not, however, bust out an actual cheer.

The game continued. The coaches were doing a good job of keeping some defensive players on one end of the field. However, when the ball was at the other end of the field, the girls would get kind of distracted, or play ring-around-the-rosie, or just generally stand there commence to nose pick. I swear, the whole thing was just hysterical. The game ended 1-1, with the Princesses scoring in the second half. Since I’ve watched about a million soccer games in my life, I can say some of those girls are going to be great soccer players some day…hopefully without the nose picking.

PinkGator Needs Something to Occupy Her Time

2005-11-03T16:03:00.000-05:00

Okay, I got this idea from the blog of a friend. Go to Google and type in your first name and then the word “needs” and see what pops up. To me, this was probably more on the mark than having my Tarot cards read…and a whole lot cheaper!

PinkGator needs prayers
(well, of course I do!)

PinkGator needs to be marketed passionately to national and international audiences
(this is true, as I am job hunting)

PinkGator Needs a Little Consistency
(to say the least)

PinkGator needs to find out what the students think.

PinkGator needs a two-parent home.
(got that one)

PinkGator needs opportunities to play and experience movement in a variety of positions.
(Oh yes, she very much does.)

PinkGator needs a powerful, enduring culture of philanthropy

PinkGator needs to be more diverse, more international and even more public.
(I can’t be too much more public than this unless I install a web cam in my house....and I know y'all don't want to watch me fold laundry.)

PinkGator needs to be freed from all this.
(Ain’t that the truth.)

PinkGator needs a make over.

PinkGator needs a cut that better plays up the shape of her face and beautiful blue eyes.
(Mom has been saying this for years!)

PinkGator needs a new fridge and her cheap landlord doesn't want to be bothered.

PinkGator needs you tomorrow.
(Yes, I do.)

PinkGator needs plain truth every now and then, and that day she got it.

PinkGator needs a booster shot.

PinkGator needs to continue doing what she is doing and that is being an inspiration. (Aww shucks!)

PinkGator needs a great deal of assistance. (Obviously)

21 Random Facts About Me

2005-10-26T00:23:00.000-05:00

Although I have dark eyes, they are actually green, not brown. I guess that makes them hazel. Is that what hazel means? Mostly green with a bit of brown?

My brother was delivered by the same doctor as Princes William and Harry.

All the first-born girls in my mother’s family have the same first name. My Dad is named after a former governor of Tennessee. They are the only two white people I know of with that particular name.

My four front teeth were knocked out the August before my sophomore year in high school. I was at my boyfriend’s house WITH NO PARENTS HOME and my mother actually called to see if I was there….and like dumbasses, we answered the phone and admitted there were no parents home. My mother screamed at me, and told get back home as soon as possible. On the way, a man in a car hit my bicycle. I flew over the handle bars and landed on my teeth. At this point in my life, I seriously think about $20K have been spent on my teeth.

In most of my dreams, I am either wearing my Catholic school uniform, or my cheerleading uniform. Maybe those were times in my life when I was happiest? When I felt the safest?

I have had three favorite colors: purple, red and pink. Purple is out of the running now though.

I am allergic to lobster, but not shrimp.

I made a perfect score on 2 of the sections for the Air Force Officers Entrance Exams. However, I answered B to every single one of the math questions. The female Marine officer asked why I answered B to all of them. I told her that way at least I got 1/4th of the questions right….instead of none of them. (Cleary, this story deserves its own posting.)

I secretly think I am the only Democrat in my entire extended family.

I like snakes as pets. One of my ex-boyfriends had a 7 foot python named Kaa. We lost him for about a month, but he eventually turned up hanging out on top of the curtain rod in the living room. I’m afraid of dogs.

My brother and I have the same nickname for each other.

I have dated at least one guy from every branch of the military. Generalizations: Marines are either great dancers or total non dancers. Special Forces guys are not normal. Soldiers have great senses of humor. (I melt at the sight of a man in uniform, especially the Navy "Cracker Jack" uniform. When I was at my friend's Commissioning, I thought I had died and gone to Eye Candy Heaven.)

I have trouble throwing away shipping materials…and I recycle like the tree hugger that I am.

My Christmas cards are usually sent out on the 1st of December. I start working on them about the beginning of November. I am a greeting card junkie.

I have always known I would be old when and if I got married. I seriously knew this since I was 6 years old.

I have a birthmark shaped like a whale.

I’ve taken lessons for tennis, bowling, ballet, jazz, tap, gymnastics (15 years of gymnastics!), ballroom dancing, salsa, and synchronized swimming.

Kristina and I always smile when people say the word “yam.”

I love puns. Especially bad puns.

I have visited more countries than I have visited states. I used to be able to say the words for push, pull and potato in seven languages. It’s really difficult to mess up a potato so badly that it’s inedible.

I have four pairs of pink shoes and three pairs of red ones. I also have at least 90 pairs of undies.

School Days

2005-10-23T11:04:00.000-05:00

(Warning! Soapbox diatribe ahead!)

I have been with Mom and Dad for the past week, in the vast metropolis of Cape Canaveral. Currently, Dad is putting up hurricane shutters and Mom and I have been bringing in all the potted plants and porch furniture. I hope Hurricane Wilma won't be too bad for Florida. I also hope I will be able to catch my flight out this evening to get back to Atlanta. I have a second interview on Tuesday that I really need to attend! However, if Orlando Airport closes, I'll be cooling my heels here at home inside a very very dark house.

I went to help my mom at school a few days this week. She teaches 5th grade. I was able to help her grade some papers, file a ton of CYA paperwork (Thank you, No Child Left Behind!) and make a couple of spreasheets for her. I enjoyed the spreadsheet part the most. Mom also asked me to help some kids with their plural and singular possessives, which was fun. I think a couple of the kids just needed them explained slowly and individually. Then, Mom asked me to help one of them with long division of double digits. I thought I misheard her. I had to ask the kid to explain long division to me....then I was able to assist with the word problem part. The child gave me an odd expression, like, "I'm not really ever going to have to do this in real life, am I?" Um, he would be correct...well, at least I haven't had to in my real life. But then again, I am not a nuclear physicist, am I? I suspect they probably use computers for their work too.

Anyway, after school one day, a student's mother came into to speak with my mom about her son. She had two little girls with her. They kept interrupting the conversation, so I lured them away by asking them to draw on the white board with me. They were in Kindergarten and 1st grade. I asked how old they were. They were 5 and 7. They asked how old I was. I said I was 32. They said, "Wow! You're older than our mom!"

Hmm. Well thanks, ladies. ;)

Another day, I gave a child a manicure. One of my mom's students is 13, and she's not very well taken care of. She had nice fingernails, but caked with dirt underneath, warts around the edges, etc. I her her wash her nails with a nail brush and soap. Then I put Compound W on her warts. I cut, filed and polished her nails. I think she was just happy to have some attention. I asked her about her mother. Turns out, she is usually an exotic dancer, but is currently a bartender at a restaurant which is frequently shut down by the the health department.

Me: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
Her: Two younger sisters.
Me: Does anyone stay with you at night while your mom is at work?
Her: Her boyfriend

Oh my God. I asked my mom about the situation. She does know about it, is mortified, and is on the watch for signs of abuse. It's enough to make you cry.

Then the girl told me that her mother was taking her out of school the next day so they could go to mall. This child needs special instruction and a curriculum developed for someone with learning disabilities. What she does not need, is to miss school to go to the mall.

I am just really at a loss at to how to comment on this situation. Since that's never stopped me before, I'll just let it all out.

I like children....in small groups or ones or twos, but I do really enjoy their company. They say whatever is on their minds, and are fascinated by the most everyday things. They're fun, curious and I love them. I think I would make a good mom, but sometimes I wonder if I want to bring a child into this world. I think I would be happy either way.

The kids in public schools scare me to death. Some, if not most, have parents who apparently gave no forethought to the material, financial, emotional and time resources they would need to devote to raising a healthy, loving, responsible, functional child. Maybe they just thought everything would work itself out. That's a hell of a leap of faith to make concerning the life of their potential offspring.

So then these kids go off to school to spend the day with teachers who have no ability to discipline, almost no time to truly get their kids excited about learning due to their administrative responsibilities, and sometimes no control over their classrooms due to overcrowding, troublemakers, or the inclusion of children with specialized emotional needs.

Then, people get angry about the lack of results, test scores, or whatever you call it. Kids spend 7 hours a day in school. A lot of that time is spent lining up, standing in line, eating lunch, going to different classes. Parents are angry that kids don't learn enough. I'll tell you why they don't learn....because so much of the day is spent just trying to keep the kids under some sort of control. My favorite part is when teachers are blamed for this. That's like blaming your dentist if YOU have a cavity. In my opinion, parents should be responsible for raising their child. Teachers should be allowed to teach them. Teachers should not have to do both.

SO, when I think of having children, I get scared. Would I be able to make enough money to put them in a school with an appropriate, challenging curriculum? With teachers who are gifted, motivated and allowed to concentrate on teaching? With children with like-minded parents?

It would be a huge responsibility, investment and sacrifice to have kids. I wish more people would realize that before they make that leap of faith.

Guten Morgen, Liebling!

2005-10-20T10:03:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone. Have been busy lately, drinking beer at various places around Georgia and interviewing for a new job. Not simultaneously, of course.

I went to the Oktoberfest up in Helen, Georgia a couple of weekends ago. Luckily, we took a bus, because it was practically in Tennessee….much too far to drive just for a day. Helen, if you've not had the pleasure of visiting, is a pseudo-Barvarian village. It's a lot like going to the German pavilion at Epcot, only the paint is pealing off everything, you can purchase anything with a Confederate Flag printed on it, and the bratwurst is substandard. That does not mean, however, that it's unfun. You must channel your inner tourist and become one with the tackiness. I have a very high threshold for tackiness, since I grew up in the t-shirt shop capitol of the world. Well, second only to Myrtle Beach.

I watched the Tennessee/Georgia game at an outdoor bar. There were so many Bulldog fans in attendance, I felt like I was in Athens. A couple people asked me which team I was for. I bravely said I went to Florida. That got boos from everyone except my friend, Elektra (blog name) who is a fellow UF alumna. Georgia fans! Don’t be hatin'! I am living in Atlanta, very probably supporting your state university system with my taxes!

I did indulge in an airbrushed objet d'art. My dear cousin Beth was recently engaged and I could not resist buying a front tag for her car. It is an airbrushed rainbow sunset which says "Beth -N- Bryan Forever." If you knew my cousin, she would probably rather wear white shoes after Labor Day than put this on her car. For those of you non-Southerners….that's about as tacky as it gets. This is why I will be embarking on a sneak attack to put this on her car in the dead of night. I can't wait! I hope she doesn't find it until after she drives it to the DAR meeting, hee hee!

True Story

2005-09-26T20:55:00.000-05:00

Hello Kitties.

After my posting entitled TGIF? in which I first introduced the very glittery Mr. Blue, I received some flack regarding the "crass-ness" of the topic.

Let me explain. I first posted that day, with a paragraph at the end detailing an unexpected appearance of my vibrator, Mr. Blue. I received several emails letting me know that it was "over the line, Too Much Information", etc. I felt a bit odd at the time I posted it...but I went ahead, because I found it humorous, and that is my REAL LIFE, such as it is. But being a new blogger, after I recieved the emails, I felt pressured, and I removed said paragraph. After I did so, I felt ....what's the word?...shallow? hypocritcal? cowardly? Very un MR?

However, I left off the offending paragraph until I received the following email from an esteemed friend:

"While sitting in a boring meeting this morning I was thinking about
your edited Blog... and am now of the opinion that you shouldn't
"sanitize" your Blog for readers who may be uncomfortable with the
level of comfort you have with your body. After all, if you are
comfortable enough with the readers to post personal information to
the Blog, then they should not be asking you to revise your writings
to match their constrained view of what is appropriate. As a
writer (which you are) I think that you should feel free to express
yourself as you see fit (not as others see fit)... I really enjoy
your Blog postings (even the non- NC17 ones) and if I now have to
worry that I am only getting the watered-down version of what you
want to say, then that takes something away from the experience.
So, you have my full support in posting whatever you want to your
Blog... and I hope to someday see the return of Mr. Blue to the Lazy Stars site."

I would apologize for making anyone feel uncomfortable, and as sad as I am about that, I am not sorry. So I have reposted the offending paragraph, (which I didn't think was offensive anyway) including Mr. Blue. I am a single girl at the peak of my sex drive and have no one with whom to enjoy it. There WILL be escapades. There will be wild stories. There will eventually be an exceedingly lucky gentleman....about whom I will not post the details. But as long as it's only me, I'll be posting the funny side, the sad side, the real side.

And that's all I have to say about that.
SO, thank you for continuing to read, and Happy Birthday to me! (tomorrow)

Statistics for Social Sciences (STA 1000)

2005-09-22T15:15:00.000-05:00

Due to a dearth of fun things about which to write, I thought I might relate a previous dating experience.

A few months ago, I decided to try speed dating. God help me, it’s true. It’s also a lesson in statistics….and stamina.

I logged onto Hurrydate.com and signed up for an event where the ladies and the gentlemen were all 25-35. Hurrydate asks you to post a picture so that everyone can get a visual reminder of the people they met for when you log in your choices after the party. Veronica sent me a picture she had taken of me and I duly posted it online. I was hating myself already.

I arrived at Cosmopolitan in Midtown a few days later and was, embarrassingly, the first person there. Wearing my very favorite periwinkle blue blouse and black pants and heels (not Free Drink ShoesTM), I felt fairly confident, yet wondered if I should have worn something more feminine, like a dress or a skirt. One gin martini later, I wasn’t so worried. I stuck my nose into the latest Harry Potter book and waited for the other participants to arrive. The girls were all dressed very nicely. The guys needed some work. Well, duh. Of course they did…they were there because the needed someone help them with their wardrobe, amongst other things.

There were 20 guys and 20 girls. All the girls sat at various tables and every four minutes, the guys would get up and go talk to the next girl. In between, we would right down a yes or a no on the notes page next to the corresponding number of the guys. I took notes as well, so I could remember whom everyone was.

Four minutes is a short time…but it was difficult to tell how much longer until the bell sounded signaling the end of each conversation. For one guy, I talked the entire time and he said nothing. Because I felt like a know-it-all asshole, I said almost nothing to the next poor guy. Eventually, I found a good middle ground.

Mr. #3 talked only about how much he loved Star Wars. I love Star Wars too, but I have a feeling this dude probably had Star Wars “memorabilia” in his home. A HUGE no-no for anyone over 13. (AHEM...my lovelies. You KNOW who you are.)

Mr. #5 boasted of the wood burning pizza oven he had installed in his kitchen…."with all Viking appliances." Wink wink, nudge nudge. Then he proceeded to tell me how “you couldn’t get decent food f*cking anywhere in the South.” I told him to move back North immediately. Surprisingly, he laughed. I did not.

Mr. #7 asked me what kind of music I enjoyed and where I liked to go out in Atlanta. I mentioned Halo and said that the music in there was too loud to talk but there was no dance floor. I thought the place was confused about whether it was a lounge or a club. Turns out, Mr. #7 is the DJ at Halo. So much for that!

Mr. 10 collected muscle cars. Mr. 9 started is own business setting up toy trains. He actually made a living at that…which was impressive, but still very bizarre on some level.

Mr. 12 started out by asking me my favorite sexual position. I declined to answer, but he didn’t ...and then began outlining the merits and disadvantages of several different ones. Yuck, dude. I don’t even know you. Yeesh!

I heard more than I ever wanted to know about Ultimate Frisbee, short wave radio and why the US will never win the World Cup. I, on the other hand, had to explain what a metrics analyst was several times….and I know how exciting that topic can be. I’m surprised no one fell asleep on me…except I did meet another guy who does the same thing. Turns out he knew my friend Veronica who helped me with the picture.

After the party, I went home and logged onto the Hurrydate site to input my two yeses…one for an engineer and one for another engineer. Surprise surprise, I like geeky guys.

This is where I fall sadly short in my knowledge of statistics. What are the odds that I would pick 2 out of the 20 guys to meet again AND that of the 17 guys that picked me….none of them were the 2 that I selected? I figured it was a small percent chance. My friend and coworker Michael, a brilliant mind, assured me that the chance of that actually occurring was infinitesimal.

Well, the "proof" is in the pudding. Neither of the guys I chose wanted to meet me.
I should have bought a lottery ticket that day. Because after all, the lottery is merely a tax on those who can’t do statistics.

TGIF?

2005-09-16T15:01:00.000-05:00

This post is rated NC 17. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Sorry about no posts lately, I have been in training with not much access to writing time. However, I did need to post to tell you about my misdeeds from last Friday. Let me begin by saying that my contract at work is ending soon, consequently, I have very few duties these days. Despite this, I still have two offices (go figure) One in Midtown and one in Tucker.

They day began well, as I was very optimistic about an interview I had that day with another department here in the Bank. My boss had recommended me for a position as a curriculum developer because of my fantabulous writing skills, obviously ;) So, I put on my Very Serious Black Interview Suit (and a pink scarf) with black hose and pointy shoes. In short, I looked like a million bucks. I drove to Tucker for my interview.

About 3 minutes into it, things were spinning wildly out of control. I said, “Excuse me, but I am here for the Curriculum Developer interview….are we talking about the same position?” Turns out, the position she was speaking of was Fraud Policy Analyst…but she was referring to the same position…it “just hasn’t been very well defined yet.”

Um, yeah. Do ya think?

All right, well, whatever. Probably WON’T be hearing back for a second interview about that since I have very little experience with fraud analysis. At least I was going to meet my friend, a successful realtor, for lunchies at Midtown Kitchen. I was somewhat cheered by this until I went to get in my car….and realized I was wearing gray pantyhose. Not off black, not smoke black, but a silvery gray. Oh. My. I had been to an interview looking like my pantyhose choice was from 1982. Love-ly. Not quite looking like a million bucks anymore. More like $2.50.

So I took them off in the car, but realized my dress was too short to, um, go commando. I ran over to Target across the street….and bought two pairs of new undies. I wanted to put them on, but they had that kind of starchy feel to them. Then, I had THE most White Trash Moment in my life. I took one pair of the panties and washed them out in the bathroom sink at Target. Then, oh yes, I dried them in the hand dryer….

My mother would have D-I-E, died, if she had seen this moment. There was her daughter, looking like a homeless hooker in the Tucker Target bathroom.

Undaunted, I put on the panties (in the car) and went to get gas at the BP….where I locked myself out of the car with only my phone and my debit card in my hand. I started cursing a blue streak, and then threw a silent, stomping temper tantrum at the gas pump. I stomped inside to get out of the heat and called Triple A. In the meantime, I started scoping out the various BP patrons to see who might be my best bet to help me break into my car. I selected two gentlemen getting into an electrician’s truck. I politely asked if they had anything in the truck they could use to get in my car. They said maybe and proceeded to make several wire thingys to pull the lock open.

While I stood helplessly by, several other gentlemen came over to offer advice and “help.” I thought that too many cooks could spoil the soup and it was just best to leave the electricians alone. After about 7 guys offered their opinions, I finally had to start waving them away because everyone was getting in a pissing contest about who had the best theory on how to open the door. 20 minutes after that, I bought the very nice, polite electricians some water and snacks. Then I told them not to worry about it, I would just wait for Triple A, because I didn’t want them to be late for their appointments. The older one looked at me very intently and said in a thick Southern accent, “Ma’am. We are gettin’ IN that car.” I knew from experience that it was just best to stay out of the way and not insult the man by insinuating that he couldn’t help. I think it’s maybe an affront to one’s manhood if they can’t help a damsel in distress. I wasn't distressed as much as I merely needed a very large cocktail.

The did get into the car eventually. And then my knights in denim armor rode off in their white truck.

Much much later that night, I was reading in bed. My roommates came in to say goodnight and tell me about their day. We were conversing normally…when, to my abject horror, I looked at my nightstand and there stood my vibrator, like a ribbed, blue sentry. Yep, and to add insult to injury….he was slightly glittery. I realized my Hello Kitty Antibacterial Glitter Soap had adhered itself to Mr. Blue.

Sometimes, I feel like I should just get back into bed and start the day all over again. Sigh.

I Heart New York (Day 2)

2005-09-09T17:33:00.000-05:00

Friday morning, we were supposed to get up early and be in the audience for Good Morning America. However, we found out they weren’t doing a regular show that morning, but that we were welcome to come to the Konye West concert which would be shown instead. We wisely decided to sleep through that.

We went to the upper west side for breakfast at Sarabeth’s Kitchen. It was recommended to us by a friend who said it was a good place to see celebrities. We were just as famous as everyone else there. But the food was delicious! I highly recommend it. Our “thing we do” on vacation is to usually order one less entrée than there are people eating. This way, everyone gets to try everything and we save a tiny bit of money…or maybe not by the time we’ve had appetizers and desserts though.

After I had coffee (which was $3.50 for one cup) we went off to see some of the city. We went to Rockefeller Center, which was full of tourists of course. I heard a bunch of different languages and we snapped some photos for some Asian visitors. We went into the St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I lit a candle in front of St. Jude (patron saint of desperate situations) in hopes of improving my love life.

We went into a very fancy department store, can’t remember which one, but it doesn’t matter since there was not one thing I could afford. We went into the Trump Tower to get Suzet some ice cream. The inside was really gaudy. Gosh, now there’s a surprise.

We then walked about 2/3rds of the way through Central Park. I had no idea it was so big! My tootsies were killing me! While walking through the city, I noticed a few things about New Yorkers. A good handbag can really pull an outfit together. Not everyone who wears tank tops should be allowed to wear them. The women there are IN LOVE with spaghetti strap tank tops! I saw such a range of cleavage, not all of it pleasing to the eye. But on the whole, ladies’ fashions were very interesting and original.

That night, we ate at a Brazilian place and then went to Serendipity for dessert. Veronica drank some of their famous frozen hot chocolate, and I had frozen bread pudding with cherries and coconut in it. Melissa and Suzet had a strawberry ice cream/strawberry cheesecake/whip cream thingy that was as big as my head. We then all rolled home, to pass out into a sugar-induced coma.

Sadly, Melissa was in no mood to end the evening. Normally this would have been when I begged for mercy to go home….such as when we went to Cancun and I was begging to go home at 8 IN THE MORNING. That was also the vacation where I was enjoying some isolated topless sunbathing...when suddently, a shadows fell across me. It wasn't Melissa. Nor was it Suzet. It was two guys, one named Alejandro if memory serves. These two gentleman spent the next 14 hours drinking and dancing on bars with us, but I digress.

Since Suzet is out of the drinking game and Veronica never played in the first place, I had to step up to the plate and entertain Melissa. I did a poor job, but it wasn’t my fault. We couldn’t find anyplace non-cheesy (like TGIFridays) or non-boring (like our fancy hotel) to have a beverage. My feet were spared too much torture, as we went to Virgin Records where I bought the Chemical Brothers Singles CD, and then home to a shower and sleep. Thank goodness marriage has mellowed my friends...I can finally keep up with them!

Bright Lights, Big City

2005-09-07T13:19:00.000-05:00

I just returned from my long weekend in New York City. Wish I could have posted while I was there, but my mobile phone just isn’t that fancy.

Getting Melissa, Suzet, Veronica and myself together is a bit like trying to schedule a G8 Summit. Since we’re mostly of the same political ilk, however, we rarely talk about politics. This long weekend had been scheduled for almost a YEAR. Not Suzet’s pregnancy (hurray!), Veronica’s house/job hunting in Philadelphia, nor the wedding of my friends was going to get in the way of our annual girls weekend.

Suzet, Melissa and I managed to find each other in the Newark Airport after our flights from Miami, Cleveland and Charlotte, respectively. We landed within a half hour of each other. Miraculously, none of us checked luggage. This was a major feat for me….as I have been known to take two suitcases on a three day cruise. (And I will have you know, I wore all seven pairs of those shoes!)

Two trains and a metro ride later, we arrived at the Sheraton on 7th and 53rd where Veronica was waiting for us. The metro stop displayed a mosaic of the Red Queen and the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. How apropos. I have to admit, I felt just like I had fallen down the rabbit hole when I took in my first view of Manhattan. It felt a lot like Piccadilly Circus, only bigger.

We checked in to our teensy hotel room and, refreshed, went to do what all NYC tourists must do: We went to Times Square. We ate at what was possibly the cheapest place in the city…a tiny Chinese place right next to MTV Studios on Times Square. Sadly, I don’t think anyone saw us on MTV’s Total Request Live. Although Veronica did get a kick out of loudly saying, “There’s J.Lo!” at random points throughout the weekend.

We walked around and looked all the other visitors, lights, stores, etc. I was bombarded by so much advertising, I felt like I was on the set of Blade Runner. We saw Kathie Lee Gifford and a fashion critic named Cojo (whom I had never heard of) filming a commercial. After watching that for about 15 minutes, I got bored and when into the Sephora Flagship store behind us to peruse the eye shadow. Eventually we returned to our hotel where I took a shower and hit the sack. Veronica began her vigil of watching the Hurricane Katrina coverage. Thank goodness for my sleep mask.

I didn’t sleep very well the whole time we were there. Between me, Suzet and the five huge pillows in a double bed, there was not a lot of room. I decided it was just easier to be the front spoon, rather than sleep on the edge of the bed.

More tomorrow!

Nuts!

2005-08-30T17:46:00.000-05:00

The following paragraph was part of an email to my friend from his mother. She is a registered nurse at an assisted-living facility. Please imagine this being read to you in “Rhode Island, 60 year old Mom” accent:

The other day I received a phone call from the sister of one of our residents. The resident is a is tall, gray haired, slim gentleman who loves tennis and was spotted by a neighbor who thought he was heading to Dunkin’ Donuts in his underwear (he was wearing white tennis shorts). Maureen, the day nurse, has confessed she thought he was stuffing his pants to make himself appear more endowed. Well, his sister thought he had a tumor and we should call a doctor to make an appointment to have him checked out. I thought it was smarter if we took a look first so we are not embarrassed when he goes to the doctor and nothing is amiss. Well the aide went to him. The resident lowered his pants somewhat and removed his wallet, and various other things from his groin area. It seems he has started a new trend "crotch pockets."

To me, that sounds like some type of frozen dinner. Eew!

For Some Reason...

2005-08-26T12:08:00.000-05:00

For some reason, the following quote just makes so much sense to me right now:

"The love you withhold is the pain that you carry."

It's heavy as well.....and I am tired.

The Dog Days of Summer

2005-08-22T19:09:00.000-05:00

This weekend I went Maryville, Tennessee to visit my extended family. My brother met me up there as well…and that was honestly the best part. Matt always cheers me up.

I got an early start, passing through Calhoun, Georgia about 9am…when what to my wandering eyes should appear…but an outlet mall. I decided I might be able to find the perfect deviled egg plate, which I really want. I pulled off the interstate only to realize that the mall was closed, so I decided to get some gas and another coffee at the Shell station. I got both and was just starting my MP3 player back up, when I saw a shaggy black dog walk by. I was irritated that a traveler might let his dog get out so close to the interstate without a leash! I watched the dog walk across a nearby field. I realized that it was lost. Facing down my fear of big dogs, unknown dogs, and being late to my grandmother’s house, I shut off the car, put my phone and my keys in my pocket and went over towards the dog.

I was shaking with fear. I was angry inside that someone had possibly just left an unwanted pet on the side of the road. I was afraid of this big black unkempt-looking mutt. I didn’t want to touch it. I was conflicted. I was thinking of how much Rob loved his dog, Candy, when she was alive. I was thinking of how all dogs go to heaven. What if someone was desperately missing his or her pet? What if an elderly person lost a companion or a child had lost a playmate?

I faced down my fear and called the dog to me. He immediately trotted over. I thought his rapid panting indicated dehydration, but knowing so little about dogs, I was unsure. I wished I had never seen Cujo on HBO when I was little. He seemed friendly, so I petted him and talked to him for a while before trying to hold his collar and read the phone number on the tag. I was struggling to hold the tag, not let go of the dog, (lest he run onto I-75) and dial my phone. I got an answering machine and left a message. I was terrified that the dog, named Frisbee, was going to bite me as I was twisting around, phone in one hand and probably choking him with the other.

Just then, a lady in a white SUV pulled up and got out. She turned out to be not only a dog lover, but a wildlife rehabilitation specialist. Thank you Jesus! She offered to hold the dog while I called the vet’s phone number on the tag. She went to her car and unwrapped an unbelievable sterling silver bowl and put some of her bottled water in it for Frisbee. She was on her way to her daughter’s wedding in Kentucky, and this was one of the presents. I was a little mortified about the maiden use of the gift, but she told me her daughter was a vet :) and I was happy about that.

Long story…longer, we ended up with me driving and her and Frisbee in the back of my car on our way to a different local vet who offered to keep the dog till the owner could be found. At this point, Matt called.

Me: You’ll never guess what I’m doing.
Matt: Squeezing off a few rounds at Benton Shooter’s Supply?
Me: Um, no. I have a lost dog….
Matt: Oh NOOOO. You aren’t keeping it are you? (Matt is also a cat person.)
Me: No you meanie, but I would. I am taking it to a vet until the owner can come get it.
Matt: Okay, well I was just going to hold breakfast for you.

Needless to say, I didn’t make it. But I did get a story out of it, and with my family, that goes a long way. (I know, what a surprise, right?)

Later that day, I got a call from an elderly lady thanking me for finding her dog. Frisbee had been missing! That made the whole stop worth it.

I was thinking why Frisbee came into my life for an hour. What purpose could this have served? Possibly none. Possibly to let me know that sometimes we have the luxury of knowing that our actions help others. Most of the time, we never know where our suffering or sacrifices serve any real purpose. But for this instance at least, a person had been reunited with a beloved companion all because I wanted a new deviled egg plate.

Can’t ask for more than that.

SSDD

2005-08-18T17:17:00.000-05:00

I don’t normally post about “what I did today,” because frankly, sometimes life is filled with just work, eating and sleeping. Luckily, I have a fine coterie of friends with whom to eat.

But since today is the taking FOREVER to go by, I will just tell you how my day has been going. I spent last night over at the house of my friend, Kristina. I was awakened rather early this morning by her two beautiful children, Taylor (4) and Matthew (almost 3).

They stood on the side of the bed, as they always do, and Taylor put her face about two inches away from mine and asked in a whisper, “M, are you awake yet?” and I answered, as always that yes, I am awake now, thank you for asking. They smiled and climbed into bed throwing my five support pillows (because of the bad hips) onto the floor. They argued about who was going to sleep in the middle.

“M, you sleep in the middle,” they said to me. Okay, so I rolled over into the middle only to have Taylor berate me for stealing the covers and then for “keeping her awake” trying to re-settle myself.

Sigh. I looked at Taylor and said, “Taylor, you have no eyebrows,” because they are so blond. She reached up to feel them, and then, reassured, she said, “Yes I do!” We have this conversation about twice a month.

I finally got out of bed to get Matthew a breakfast bar. That kid will eat anything that’s not nailed down….and I know better that to get between him and a carbohydrate.

Later, after two cups of rich vanilla coffee and several Christmas catalogs, I drove my highly caffeinated self to work. I enjoyed a great harpsichord concert on NPR as I was very glad NOT to be driving west on the top end of 285.

At work, I realized the blood drive was today and I had forgotten to eat breakfast. I smelled waffles and realized that our site leader was making waffles for one of the phone teams as a reward for schedule adherence. I finagled a waffle (and strawberries and whipped cream). I did about an hour’s worth of work and then was finished. I chatted with one of the trainers and our administrative assistant for another hour. I went upstairs to give blood.

Towards the end of my donation, I became light headed and probably very pale, as one of the phlebotomists ran over, tilted my chair way back, brought me some grape juice and put a cold pack on my neck. About a half hour later, I was allowed to leave.
Lesson learned: do not drink two cups of coffee, eat a sugary breakfast and then donate blood. (I never drink more than one cup, or I get stuck to the ceiling.)

So, here I sit, still jacked up on coffee, still shaking from blood loss and not too much else going on. I read all my websites. I called F. I talked to my cousin who is about to leave for Parris Island (Lord help us). I checked my email about 27 times. I looked for job postings on the internet…and am about to sneak away to buy What Color is My Parachute, so I can figure out what to do with myself. Dad is pushing for me come home and work in the United Space Alliance procurement office. Sounds good, but I would have to live someplace like Port St. John (heaven forbid!) to be able to afford my own place. But closer to the truth, that’s just too far from the beach for me. I mean, as long as I am going to live in Florida, anyway.

I am counting the seconds until I can bail on this sketchy bingo parlor, to meet one of my fabulous friends for dinner at a new Thai place. I am a slave for Thai food.

Today is that day when I looked down at my feet and realized that my pedicure is about one day past its prime. I am looking forward to using my new color, called “Frankly Scarlet.” I love make-up color names. I think that is what color my parachute is! Whatever color I have to be to get the job of making up nail polish names! Of OPI brand nail polish, their best selling color is the perfect shade between red and magenta, called “I’m Not Really a Waitress.” I think it’s the best selling color because it has the best name. On my fingers I am wearing an Essie color called, “High Maintenance.” Go figure.

I am so bored. I might have to go write a macro just to have something to do.

Around NY in 80 Meals

2005-08-17T16:13:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone!

I am quivering with anticipation about my upcoming trip to NYC with my grad school girlfriends:

Mrs. Unpuncutality
Mrs. Undecided Haircolor; and
Miss " I can't eat anywhere without a coupon!"

Miss Coupon has put together a fabulous intinerary, mostly revolving around where we will be eating. We all try to meet up at least once a year and eat our way across our destination city. Since none of us have children, we talk about food, almost to the exculsion of everything else.

I could post the itinerary, but that wouldn't be too exciting. SO, I am posting an alternative itinerary....a ficticious one as fortold by Madam Exclamation Point:

Day 1-Have Dinner at VONG's, Start with the Coconut Chicken soup, followed by Lobster with Thai Herbs for dinner and The White Plate and a glass of Champagne for dessert. After dinner go straight to bed for some much needed beauty rest before your big television debut. Don't want any dark circles!! Make sure you get a table right next to Carrie, Sam, Charlotte & Miranda, then steal all their guys!

Day 2- wake up at 4 AM and go to the studio for Hair & make up. Don't bother flirting with the make up artist, he's gay. He can tell you where to find the best Manolo knock offs though! So take notes.

Make sure you have a sign that says "Hi to my Wonderful & Beautiful friend TW who's watching from Tokyo"!! Tell Tom Cruise I said "Hello"! If you see Katie H., give her a good swift kick in the butt!! The producer will be impressed that someone finally had the courage to knock some sense into her that he'll fire Diane Sawyer on the spot and put you in her chair!! You freeze under pressure though and run off the set before you pee in your pants.

At Brunch have the "Goldie Lox" with the "Four Flowers juice". Make a note that there is also a Sarabeths Kitchen in Key West so we can go on our next trip there! Say, Hi to Ben & Jen and give them my best on their new bundle of joy.

After your 30 min power nap, grab a Redbull. Try not to get a crook in your neck from staring at all of the tall buildings on your NYC Walk!! Go back to the Hotel and get a Thai foot massage!

For dinner at Palos, ask for a table in the "Wine Room". Start with a bottle of wine, ask the Somalier to suggest a good one. For Dinner order the Misticanza con le Perre, followed by Pappardelle al Ragu D'anatra, and skip dessert.

Have dessert at Serendipity!! Have the Humble Pie, we could all use a good piece of that. Make sure you get the Waiter to meet you later for drinks. He's Eva Longoria's new boy toy on next seasons Desperate Housewives. Shhhh, you didn't hear it from me! Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani is known to frequent the place too!! Tell him he should run for president in 2008!

Day 3-Sleep in until 9:30 since you went home with the BoyToy from Serendipity. Skip breakfast with the girls and lick Whipped cream and strawberries from BoyToy's chest instead. I'm sure they'll understand!! Meet them at MoMA at 11. Don't miss the Pioneering Modern Painting: Cézanne and Pissarro 1865–1885 Exhibit. Apologize to Madonna when you step on her toe while standing in line for the bathroom.

At Ray's, order a whole pizza for yourself since you'll be famished from all the calories you burned between the sheets with BoyToy. I hear the Pesto Pizza is really good! Don't worry You'll still have room for Cup Cakes from Magnolia Bakery. Get a Magnolia Bakery Cookbook for Mom.

Kittichai, Wow is all I have to say!! Wear some stretchy pants and just order one of everything. Brad & Angelina recommend the Thai Ceviche. I predict their Lychee Martini will replace the Cosmo as everyone's favorite "Sex in the City" Drink! Take a Taxi back to the Hotel, you'll be too fat to walk!! (as happens every year anyway)

Day 4-Have the Brioche French Toast or Hazelnut Waffles and a Mimosa for breakfast at Balthazars. Clean your plate since you'll need the energy for all the walking you'll be doing today. Regis and his wife will be seated in the corner reading the paper. He won't mind if you bother him for a picture. He lives for this stuff!!

Wear sneakers, a jean skirt, and your "I Love NYC" T-shirt since you will be playing typical tourist today! Make sure everyone practices their "Fake Orgasms" at Katz jewish Deli. Ron Jeremy, the famous Porn Producer is having his own orgasm and invites all of you to star in his next XXX film. A table of cute Jewish Doctors and Lawyers will come to your aid and ask if any of you are Jewish and if so will you have dinner at their parents' house tonight. Too bad you have reservations at Tribecca and tickets to see Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang at 8 pm.

Funny thing, at dinner Donald & Melania Trump will overhear your debate about the Design for the Groud Zero Tribute. He likes your ideas so much he'll ask you to be his next Apprentice. He wants you to head his new Trump Towers Atlanta project and Kelly (Apprentice Season 2 winner) will be your partner. He offers you his car and his box seats for your Broadway show.

Day 5- Everyone else heads to the airport and Trump flies you & Kelly on his Private Jet. Their is an instant connection. By the time you are over Virginia you're joining the Mile High Club. (Is this with Trump or Kelly? or both? I am wondering.)

Back on the ground you take him to Roy's for dinner. Half way through dessert he tells you you're what he's been waiting his whole life for!!

A year later you get married, move to Hawaii, and live happily ever after right next door to the Exclamation Points. (The living in Hawaii sounds good, and maybe I can work on Donald's Hair!)

Les Liaisons Dangereuses

2005-08-11T18:22:00.000-05:00

"Those who are most worthy of love are never made happy by it. Do you still think men love the way we do? No... men enjoy the happiness they feel. We can only enjoy the happiness we give. They are not capable of devoting themselves exclusively to one person. So to hope to be made happy by love is a certain cause of grief."

--Madame de Rosemonde in Dangerous Liaisons

I was watching this movie the other day. It's endlessly quoteable. Here's another doozy:

"When one woman strikes at the heart of another she seldom misses, and the wound is invariably fatal."

---Marquise de Merteuil

Free Drink Shoes

2005-08-09T13:30:00.000-05:00

I was getting ready for a night on the town with my one of my girlfriends, while her 5 and 7 years old daughters kept us company. I chose a fabulous pair of strappy gold sandals. They were a beautiful muted gold color, with towering 3 ½ inch heels, and a small sparkly buckle. In short, these were THE man killer shoes, or at least, I felt invincible wearing them. They were my very own equivalent to Wonder Woman’s bullet-deflecting bracelets.

I sat back on the bed, stuck out my feet and said, “I’m gonna get some free drinks with these shoes!” to no one in particular. The daughters looked at me quizzically, seeming to be more entranced by the intricacies of eye make-up application, than with my proclamation regarding sexy footwear.

Several months later, the same scenario replayed. We were beautifying ourselves to go out, with my friend’s daughters observing the now familiar female primping rituals. After I slipped into my dress, I picked out the same pair of gold sandals, and buckled them on to my newly-pedicured feet. Again, I sat back on the bed and stuck out my feet to admire them.

“You’re gonna get some free drinks with those shoes!” blurted out the younger daughter. My friend and I looked at each other burst out laughing. Henceforth, any and all sexy, high-heeled sandals have been known as “Free Drink Shoes.” I only have to say those words, and everyone knows exactly what kind of shoes I’m talking about. I’m thinking of having the original pair bronzed.

Dating Tips from the Pleistocene Epoch

2005-08-05T18:33:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you about a dating experience that occurred years and years ago…back in 2000. Now I don’t normally share my dating mishaps with people, and if you should have the fantastic fortune of dating me, I promise, mum’s the word. I only share this because this person is no longer in my life at all and I can’t even remember his last name at this point. And well, he deserves it.

There was a young man in my Sunday School class. I knew he was single because this was a singles class that has since gone the way of the Do-Do Bird. I had seen him at church and at a couple of events. I introduced myself. I batted my eyelashes. I wore my Free Drink Shoes. Despite all this, it took him months to ask me out. Surprisingly, the thing that caught his attention was that my parents were alumni of his university. Never under estimate the power of SEC football, I guess.

So, we went out on a date. It went well. Went we out on two dates, he asked me to help him shop for some clothes. I could not believe how cheap he was, but I decided I could work with that, and it wasn’t a deal breaker yet. I am fine with hunting for bargains. But you must spend the time shopping, or the money if you want a quality item. I am all about spending the time because I have no money. He did not want to spend either.

We went on three dates, and he asked for help shopping for furniture for his huge empty house. We went on four dates, and he finally finally kissed me goodnight. It was bad. It was dreadful. It was a strep swab of my tonsils. It was a deal breaker. I ended the kiss as quickly and as politely as I could and bid him good night.

He asked me out again and I went, because I thought I could be more assertive with MY kissing style and maybe we could meet in the middle.

Well, hope springs eternal.

We got home and were sitting on the opposite ends of my sofa, as in a TV sitcom. He scooched over. And then he scooched all the way over. I was backing away like that poor cat in the PePe LePew cartoons. He kissed me and it was just as terrible as before. I pulled away and said, “Um (long pause) maybe with more lips and less tongue?” His shocked expression clearly showed that I had started down the wrong path. To his credit, he kissed me again and it was marginally better. The night kind of fizzled at that point, as you might imagine.

I truly expected never to hear from him again. But if I had not, I wouldn't have this story to tell you…hee hee!

He called a few days later.

Me: Hello?

Him: (Very earnest voice) I need to tell you something.

Me: Oh hi. What’s up?

Him: I’ve been taking these Landmark classes to help me express myself better. And I need to tell you something, because I need to express how I feel.

Me: (thinking: Okay, that was redundant)
I am ready.

Him: When you told me I was a bad kisser…

Me: I never said that.

Him: (Angrily) When you told me I was a bad kisser, you emasculated me and took all control away from me in the relationship.

Me: You are putting words into my mouth. I never said that! And we barely even have a relationship….

Him: You took all control away from me! The man controls what happens in the bedroom and I’M THE MAN!!!

The word “bedroom” confused me, as he was not getting anywhere NEAR my bedroom EVER after this conversation.

I was stunned into silence. No one had ever said that to me before. What kind of “man” wants a girl who takes no initiative? Was his ideal woman someone to be acted upon, instead of a willing participant? Would he rather I just sit there and detest kissing him??

Me: Thank you so much for playing PinkGator’s dating game. We have some lovely parting gifts for you. I hope you find yourself a wife who lies next to you like a cold, unresponsive dead fish! Cause that’s all you’ll find if you keep up this Neanderthal-like behavior!!

SLAM!

Thank goodness he quit going to my church, since I was clearly not about to leave. I feel sorry for some of those girls at Peachtree Presbyterian. Maybe I should have warned them. I should have let things go when I realized he was cheap.

Some men just can’t handle a woman who knows what she wants.

Breast in Show

2005-08-03T18:44:00.000-05:00

The past couple of days have been pretty rough for me. My back went out the 22nd, and so I have been hobbling around ever since. On the night of the 22nd, I went to an art gallery showing. I nearly had to have someone take me out of the car with a shoe horn and then carry me to the showing. Much later that evening, when I got home, I wanted to take a shower. I could get off all my clothes except my undies. I thought I was gonna have to cut them off. But I decided to get in the shower with them ON, and then wait so they got wet enough that I could kinda jump up and down so they would slide down my legs. Thank goodness I was alone, or that would have been embarrassing…..but then if I wasn’t alone, I guess I could have gotten some help taking them off….but that is ANOTHER subject entirely.

That night, my roommate and her boyfriend had to put me in bed and put the covers up on me. Haven’t had anyone tuck me in for a while. It was kind of nice :)

I went to the chiropractor on the 29th where x-rays were taken of my spine. It looked like an S hook! No wonder my back was killing me. It turns out that my right leg is ¼ inch shorter than the left. I have been going back for adjustments and am feeling much better. Some new x-rays were taken and things are more aligned already.

I also had a job interview last Friday. I think it went really really well, but the team decided to go with someone else. I was bitterly disappointed :(

And the icing on the cake was my first mammogram ever, which I had yesterday. There was a lump that I had been trying to ignore for about 4 months. I was absolutely FREAKING OUT about the possibilities, as my dad’s mom had breast cancer when she was younger. Let me just tell you, mammograms are not the best feeling ever, but it was less painful than a bikini wax.

As I was standing there in my ever-so-fashionable cross-tie hospital gown, I was freezing cold. The nurse asked me to uncover my left side first. With her icy hands, she placed my now freezing left breast on the even more freezing metal plate. Then she cranked down the upper plate and took the mammogram picture. She did this two times to each side. I was sure I had frost bite by the time it was over. The only good part was that the nurse said I was very symmetrical. Hooray for me and my boobs! My legs are different lengths, but thank heavens my breasts are the same size, you know, since they’re so USEFUL. (Well, at least at this point.)

And by the way, everything turned out fine :)

There, but for the Grace of God, Go I

2005-07-25T18:20:00.000-05:00

This Saturday, a group from my church went to hand out things to the homeless in downtown Atlanta, on Trinity Avenue. We brought non-perishable food, toiletries, reading glasses, MREs, bottles of cold water and religious reading materials. A group from another church was serving food as well. We set up our tables and passed out the goods. My back has been killing me lately, so I stood nearby and took down some of the prayer requests.

There were several people trying to get home, one to Spartanburg, South Carolina and one to Griffin, Georgia. Lots of people asked us to pray for their children and other family members. Some folks knew where their kids were located, and some did not. Other asked us to pray for strength to get off or stay off of crack. Some asked for prayers to keep them safe at night. And a few said they preferred to make their own prayer requests.

I spoke to a gentleman named Todd for quite some time. He had a sister who had bought a house for himself and his pregnant girlfriend to live in, but he didn’t want to stay there because he didn’t want take “something for nothing.” He used to have a job at the Waffle House, but he quit because it burnt him out. He wanted a job that he was excited about going to in the morning. I was not happy with this conversation at all.

I am one of those people who usually gives money to folks on the street when they ask. I know, I know, I am “enabling their lifestyle.” But I keep thinking that if I really needed money and I had to beg, I hope someone would have the same mercy on me. I once had to beg money for a Marta token…which was pretty humbling…but I did have to ask a few people before anyone would give me anything. At that moment when a businessman finally gave me a Marta token, I felt like I had been doing the right thing by giving to people to asked for my help. What if they really did just need money for a ride home, or money for diapers, or money for gasoline? What if they had no family to look after them?

But after having this conversation with Todd, I felt that maybe Rob had been right all along. Todd was too proud to stay in a free place or accept help from his family. He did not want to work either. While I was talking to him, I was thinking that this person has a piece of God inside of him, just like I do. I tried not to be judgmental, but now I am more confused about giving money than ever. I want to do the right thing, but I don’t know what it is anymore.

I do know, however, that the whining in my last posting is deplorable and shallow. I need to worry less about the whereabouts of my wardrobe, and be thankful that I can clothe, feed and house myself. In short, I need to be more mindful of my blessings.

Catharsis

2005-07-22T16:41:00.000-05:00

There are just some things I feel like I need to say to get them off my chest.

I am missing some clothes. If anyone has or has seen the following items, please let me know!

-Black cardigan from Banana Republic
I have only worn it a few times and I can’t find it anywhere!

-Pink Reef flip flops
My cousin bought me the flip flops and I love them because they are so comfy (and pink).

-Denim jacket from the Gap
I don’t really even like my denim jacket, but it was good for wearing around the office.

I want some new perfume. I think I have decided that I like the ones that smell sugary. I am PEEVED that Givenchy discontinued my favorite, Hot Couture. It smelled like raspberries, chocolate and peppercorns. It was awesome and no one else wore it but me. Thinking of going with Hanae Mori’s Butterfly this season. It smells like you could eat it :)

Why are all the clothes in the stores this season either soft yellow, moss green, ivory, purple or berry? All those colors make me look like a dead person.

I met very cool people last night at McCray’s Tavern in Midtown. It’s a nice bar with a strange mix of stylish girls, sports bar type guys and gay dudes. Oh and they have this fantastic raspberry beer there called Lindeman’s Framboise.

I need to hang some pictures in my house that have been sitting around forever. Ugh. I just don’t feel like doing it. But I’m gonna.

Traffic on 400 has been a total BITCH the last few nights. They are repaving around the Buckhead area. I was sitting STILL in the car last night from 10 until 10:40. It didn’t help that I really had to visit the little girl’s room either.

Thanks to the bartender at Cosmopolitan for keeping my Amex overnight after I left it. I left him a good tip. And thanks to the parking attendant who did not make me pay to park for 5 minutes while I went in the next day to pick it back up.

That song, “These Words” by Natasha Bedingfield makes me cry.

Nothing to Fear

2005-07-21T18:53:00.000-05:00

I recently I celebrated my one year anniversary with the Bank. Some of my coworkers stuffed my cube to the top with red, white and blue balloons. I also received a lemon meringue pie and a shiny “Congratulations” balloon, filled with helium and tied to my chair.

As some of may know, I am scared of mylar balloons. Um, REALLY scared. There are other things of which I am afraid …..such as

-lady bugs in swarms of billions,
-caterpillars (singular or plural),
-my pants not zipping,
-and mostly importantly, I am deathly afraid of pool lights

but I will leave those stories for another day.

One night while I was in high school, I was sound asleep, with dreams of sugar plums dancing in my head. I was suddenly awakened by someone touching my face. I was out of bed and down the hall in one giant leap, all the while screaming, “DADDY! THERE’S SOMEONE IN MY ROOM!!!!!!!!!!” You can imagine that is not the what any father ever hopes to hear screamed at blood curdling decibels by his daughter in the middle of the night.

Dad came out of his bedroom with a gun and started down the hall, giving whomever it was a serious warning. I had buried my head in my mother’s shoulder and scared the living daylights out of my brother.

Dad came back out of my bedroom, with a tired smile on his face.

A few months before, my cheerleading squad had just finished a competition. It may have been THE ONE where we were brutally and wrongfully disqualified by biased judges…not that I’m still bitter about that or anything. But I do remember that someone’s mother bought a red, white and blue mylar balloon for each one of us. I took mine home, and tied it to the back of the antique rocking chair that stood in the corner of my bedroom.

The balloon had become untied from the rocking chair and floated up to the ceiling. It wrapped itself around my ceiling fan….where it was whirling around the room, dragging along the head of my bed.

SO, as you can see, I’m not a huge fan of helium-filled balloons in general and mylar balloons in particular. And now, neither is my dad. Bless his little pea-pickin’ heart, I think that scare took two years off his life!

Useless

2005-07-20T12:38:00.000-05:00

Can't ....stop.....reading.....the new......Harry Potter!

AAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I need to be pulling data and looking for a job!

Dream a Little Dream

2005-07-15T12:21:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I posted a bad dream I had. I asked for interpretations. Below is the response I received from my friend Tammy. I think she might have a point!

Chris is GOD.

You are worried about your life and where you are going and what your suppose to be doing.

Don't worry about the ugly shoes, you'll never have to worry about that.

Lesson: You're stong!! You will survive whatever God may throw your way.

That's my 2 cents! The bill is in the mail!

That could be true. God was listening to me, but still put me in a position in which I did not think I was up to the task. As always, God has more faith in me than I have in myself.

S.O.S.

2005-07-14T12:44:00.000-05:00

I had another scary dream the other night. I was (apparently) newly arrived into some branch of the military. I remember crying on the phone to my friend Chris in Portland….saying something along the lines of “I can’t believe they expect to me automatically know Morse Code on the first day of boot camp or basic training or whatever the hell this is! My training partner already knows it….says he learned it in Boys Scouts!”

Chris: Are you an officer?

PinkGator: I don’t know! I failed Morse Code, so I doubt it.

Chris: What branch are you in?

PinkGator: I don’t know that either. Hang on for a second.

I looked down at my uniform.

PinkGator: Holy Crap! I'm a U.S. Marine! I’m not tough enough to be a Marine! And I have to wear these ugly shoes called corframs. They were invented in 1958 by Alex Corfram.

Then my training officer, or whatever he is called, told me that next day they were going to try to drown me and see if I lived through it.

Fortunately, I woke up after that. Whew!

Interpretations welcome.

Peek-a-boo!

2005-07-12T16:55:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone.

After a brief hiatus, I am back in the blogging business. I thought about moving the blog. But in the cold, sober light of morning, I wisely decided that was a poor idea. So, here we remain at Lazy Stars. Still sparkly, still pretty slothful.

Today:

-I got an invitation to join the AARP “to get the most out of life over 50.”
-I had a nightmare this morning at 4. It was scary. After getting up to get a drink of water, I had to jump back into the bed so that nothing could reach out and grab me from underneath!
-I got all my work accomplished in a timely and efficient manner (yes, that IS newsworthy).
-One of my coworkers told me she was eloping this weekend.
-Dad is uber-excited about the impending launch of the Space Shuttle Discovery tomorrow.
-It is freezing my office.
-My mother asked me, for the gazillonth time if I had signed up for sewing lessons. (No.)

Please continue to check back here at Lazy Stars. I promise not to run away again.

I missed you too!

XO,
Pinkgator

Oasis Analysis

2005-06-13T19:55:00.000-05:00

Again, Rated R. (What has happened to my life!?)

A few weeks ago, my friend F asked me to meet him for a drink after work on a Friday. I said that I surely would as it had been a while since we’d had a beverage.

After I said yes, he told me to meet him at the Oasis….a not super nice strip club near the Perimeter. I rolled my eyes and asked for directions. I got there at about 3:30 on a Friday afternoon. The parking lot was PACKED! Why weren’t these people at work? Why wasn’t I at work?? Or at least a different bar?

Stepping inside a strip club in the middle of the day is a bit disconcerting. It’s blindingly bright outside, and just like nighttime on the inside. So there I stood, in my baby blue capri pants and shirt, reflecting the black lights and looking like I just fell down the rabbit hole. I was blinking like a mole and trying to find F.

Luckily, he came and got me and led me off to a small table. “I want you to see this girl. She looks JUST like you. Her name is China.” Hmm. Okay. Usually when people say I look just like someone, I am prepared for Angelica Houston, Dana Delany or even Cher. Any of those would be fine. What I was not prepared for was a 24-year-old exotic dancer named China with pierced nipples and Hello Kitty knee socks…not that there’s anything wrong with that…

I looked around at the girls for a while and had an overwhelming desire to do an analysis. All things being equal…do blonds or brunettes make more money? Long hair or shorter hair? Petite girls or tall girls? Is it better to wear only a hat with your clear shoes, or a feather boa? Is it more profitable to work at night or during the day? Table dances or pole dances? Do the girls make more money dancing to, say, When Doves Cry, or to something more like Blue Dress (Depeche Mode, in case you were wondering). I kept saying all this and I am sure F was thinking I was just nuts!

An interesting part of the trip to Oasis was the ladies room. If I happened to be the owner of an exotic dance establishment, I would build a locker room for the dancers, with showers, lockers, makeup mirrors, etc. But oh no. The ladies room at the Oasis IS the locker room. I was by FAR the shortest person in there…not wearing clear heels made me much closer to my normal height of 5’2”….which is about boob-high in comparison to the high-heeled dancers. And let me just tell you, their clothes are really sheer, and yet a marvel of costume engineering. How can that little amount of fabric support that kind of weight? Where is an industrial engineer when you need one?

The bathroom counter was covered with antibacterial hand wash (good call), fruity smelling lotion, deodorant, baby power, and every hair product imaginable. I was surprised by the complete absence of body glitter. But after thinking about it, I realized a smart man does not want to go home to his wife/girlfriend with another woman’s sparkles on him. I guess that’s the feminine equivalent of marking your territory.

Eventually China (or maybe Chyna) came to our table. She leaned down, purred in my ear and said, “I’m supposed to dance to for you.” I immediately looked at F and had him order me a double vodka tonic…with a quickness…because I was clearly going to need one or else run out of the place looking very unsophisticated. I was already doing a fair job of sticking out like a sore thumb, being the only woman with clothes on, aside from the waitresses, but I digress.

I wish I could remember the song, it was a good one. Something by Erasure I think. But there are two things I really remember. One: China smelled very nice. Not like an ashtray. And Two: I felt really un-feminine being on the receiving end of a lap dance. That part was icky. Other than that, the dance was skillfully performed and artistically executed. And by that, I mean I would have tripped over the chair, snagged my hair on something and fallen onto my patron if I had attempted to perform the same dance.

I definitely had my eyes closed for part of China’s undulations. It was probably the part where she was pulling my hair back and breathing on my neck. I remember opening my eyes when she grazed one of her nipple rings down my nose. THAT was, indeed, a new perspective for me.

Maybe when I get laid off this September I can begin my monetary analysis of exotic dance clubs. I need to figure out how I can get paid to do this study. Do I have any grant writers in the house?

Pink Gator Rides Again

2005-06-02T16:58:00.000-05:00

(Orginally written August 2, 2004)

Two weekends ago, Rob and I went to a country-dance bar. The shocking part is that is was my idea. My non-country radio station advertises this night club, Wild Bill’s, as the largest indoor dance floor in the country. If you’re like me, that makes you wonder where the largest outdoor dance floor in the country is. Or maybe not. Anyhoo, I made Rob go with me to meet one of my girlfriends, Valerie, there. I was not excited about the country part, but I was very revved up about the possibility of dancing….as I always am. I was nervous about not knowing any line dances. Hey they’re fun! And good exercise…or so I hear. Our friend Lincoln had the misfortune to be dragged (drug?) along on this quest for the largest indoor dance floor in the country. Since he had a new car, he drove….and I was thanking my lucky stars for that when we left.

Before I begin the rest of the story you might be wondering what one wears to a country-dance establishment. Well, I was mainly wondering what I was going to wear, as I don’t own cowboy boots, hat, large belt buckle or anything advertising NASCAR or Smith & Wesson. The best I could do was some old Dolly Parton or John Devner records, but they were uncomfy. I wore jeans, a fun shirt, and my Beer Shoes. This pair of beer shoes are high heels, but they are not Free Drink Shoes. Beer Shoes are a category of shoes, can be heels, sandals, sneakers, etc….any pair of shoes that go with your ensemble, yet are old or cheap enough that you don’t worry about getting beer spilled on them. It also helps if they are comfy (i.e. for standing around at events such as the Decatur Beer Festival or what have you). My pair was both old and cheap ($5 at Payless) but still comfy and yet sparkly. A good combo. Moving on….

In the effort to blend in, I tried to give myself big hair. You know, “The higher the hair, the closer to God…” But it didn’t work. I managed to have a brief but scary cheerleading-camp flashback after inhaling too much hairspray. “Ready?! oKAY!”

When we arrived I noticed the place was indeed, the biggest club I’ve ever seen. The cool part, since it was ALL THE WAY IN GWINNETT COUNTY, was that there was no smoke. A no smoking country bar. Loving it already. Loving it so much, I almost thought of giving country music a chance.

I was glad I was not grubbed out, wearing something resembling the non-Reese characters in Sweet Home Alabama. The bar patrons were all dressed up, not too countrified…but ALL the girls were blond except me. I then reminded myself I was still in the South. The inside of Wild Bill’s was very nice, had a great dance floor, and they only played about 30% country music. It was, therefore, possible for me to shake what-my-mama-gave-me out on the dance floor.

But the main reason for such a pointless email is to tell you that I rode the mechanical bull! I’m such a big dork, but I just had to. Now the scenario was not that of Urban Cowboy…where the whole crowd is fixated solely on the mechanical bull riders. Nor was it like that scene in Sex & the City where Miranda rides a mechanical bull with the wind blowing through her hair and her blouse undone, etc…It was, as you’d expect, like me riding a mechanical bull….an exercise in the absurd.

First of all, I had to sign my life away. You’d think I was being shipped off to airborne ranger school after all the medical release forms. I took off my shoes, and walked out to mechanical bull. The floor was soooo squishy, like one of those bouncy things kids play on at the fair. So I sank into the floor, and was then too short to get a leg over the “bull.” Embarrassed, I was miffed that no stirrups were present. I decided my only option was to “vault” myself up onto my stomach on top of the “bull” then throw a leg over. Okay, did that. There was no saddle. Only me, and a rope around the “neck.” Hmm. Then the bull started bucking. I immediately fell off….and vaulted back on. And again. And one more time. That time time I hung on for dear life and discovered that only way to stay on was to squeeze the living daylights out of it with my legs. I was wearing jeans. The bull was covered in polished leather. It wasn't going to happen. My jeans kept sliding over the back of the bull. I vowed never to make fun of anyone wearing chaps again. Finally, after my ego and I had been bucked off enough, I gave up and went back to non-riding standard bar activities. The best part was that Rob still thought I was cool for at least trying to ride. He didn't tell me until later that he tipped the mechanical bull operator so that he wouldn't make me look bad. Guess it wasn't a big enough tip....

Sunday night I was unable to shave my legs in the shower because I could not bend over and reach my calves…my legs hurt too much. I washed my feet by shuffling them back and forth over my textured shower floor. On Monday at work, I couldn't write because my hands hurt too badly to hold a pen. My coworkers asked what’s wrong and are wondering why in heaven’s name I tried to ride a mechanical bull. No reason, really. Just makes a good story.

What a big ol’ dork I am. Thought I’d keep you posted.

Vonzetta Picklebarrel

2005-06-02T02:11:00.000-05:00

I had a dream the other night that I went to the opera to hear a famous diva...named Vonzetta Picklebarrel. I don't even WANNA think about what that might mean for my subconcious state.

Sith Happens

2005-05-19T18:10:00.000-05:00

I went to see Revenge of the Sith last night. The costumes, as in the case in the first two episodes, were spectacular. I guess during “the dark times” the Galactic Empire really cracked down on fashion as well. Seriously, everyone wore neutrals during the entire era, as evidenced by the complete lack of color in episodes 4-6.

Aside from this, the costumes before the movie were interesting as well. My friend Lincoln arrived at our movie venue at 7pm. Rob joined him at 8:30ish. After the theater let everyone in to sit down I smuggled in dinner from Hardee’s at 9:45. We ate our burgers, played Mad Libs (still funny after all these years), and people watched. Restlessness and impatience had set in, so Rob and I stepped outside to visit my roommate who was having a smoke with her man.

We saw:
Two guys dressed as what I would call “Death Star Employees” – you know, very Cold War era black costumes with red and blue buttons were the fruit salad should have been.

One X Wing fighter pilot, complete with helmet.

One very tall, but appropriately costumed Yoda.

Several random guys with lightsabers (insert your own phallic insecurity joke here.)

Four Darth Vadars

Two hobbits (??)

One Barney - yes, the purple dinosaur, possibly a distant relation to Jar-Jar Binks and equally annoying

About 400 single I.T. guys

Many many bathrobe Jedi – come on people! If you are going to be a big ol’ dork, at least be a well-dressed one!

Goth girls

A court jester with fairy wings (WTF?)

And a Batman….in a pear tree.

I looked at Rob and said, “Batman? Why Batman?”

Rob kidded, “I mean, how often do you get to leave the house dressed as Batman?”
My question : “How often SHOULD you?” Seriously, unless you are under 12, or have very kinky needs, you should NEVER leave the house dressed as Batman unless you are attending a costume event. And even then, Batman is my least favorite superhero. He’s just a rich dude with a bunch of gadgets and a fancy car!

In any event, the movie was great. I cried. At a science-fiction movie. I actually sobbed at one point. Revenge of the Sith is a very dark, poignant story. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Fear of loss or the need for revenge will destroy a good heart. We don’t want to believe our loved ones are bad.

I felt very sad for Natalie Portman’s character, Padme Amidala. She was sad and fearful for the duration of the movie. It made me sad. Her hair looked great though. I’m just impressed she could keep it from frizzing up when Coruscant is so humid all the time.

Laser Brain Removal

2005-05-18T12:53:00.000-05:00

This morning, I woke up at 5:30. That never happens. I was thinking, “what am I going to do until 7 when I need to get up?” So naturally, I called Tammy in Japan…since it was 6:30 at night there. We chatted for about an hour and I finally got out of bed and out the door to my laser hair removal appointment at 7:45.

Let me preface this with saying that I absolutely love the laser hair removal results. However, as I move into my 10th session, the laser is turned up pretty darn high at this point….and it hurts like a beyotch! After the torture was over, I got into my car and attempted to drive to work, which is waaay out on 285 East. That’s in Tucker, GA if you’re curious.

I was thinking, “wow, traffic is really awful this morning. It’s never this bad.” Doo de doo. La dee da. 45 minutes later, I realize I am not even on 285 at all. I am on 400 North. Not only am I on 400 North, but I am way past my own home and am almost in Alpharetta! That’s far! No wonder traffic is so bad. I had been on the wrong road, in terrible traffic, hanging out with myself, listening to the radio, ignoring the road signs, and not recognizing the exit where I live...for 45 minutes.

Lovely! Guess I really do need that extra hour and half of sleep in the morning to get going in the right direction. Dur!

Starship Trip

2005-05-12T17:11:00.000-05:00

I have serious misgivings about posting this story, so it might not be up here for long. Rated R. Onward!

Rules for the web log: no revealing anyone's full name....especially not in this story. One of my girlfriends asked that her porn star name be used when she suggested this story would make a good blog posting. For anyone who doesn't know, that would be a childhood pet's name for the first name, and the street you grew up on for the last name.

SO, "Sugar Star" (good porn name, huh?) and I were out to dinner with our other girlfriend "Patches." Sugar is back on her way to being a single girl for the first time in a while and is not quite ready to re-enter the dating scene just yet. Consequently, the three us were discussing, ahem, “dating alternatives” …..or maybe “mating alternatives” would be a better way to put it. It came out that Sugar was, in fact, NOT a vibrator-owning individual, bless her heart.

I swear we had this conversation about three different times. The last time we had it, we were eating dinner at Miller’s Ale House in Roswell. Normally, we eat appallingly fattening food, and drink a lot. But this time, Patches and I were at the end of our rope with the vibrator conversations….and so we left Sugar at the bar, got in the car and drove straight to Starship (adult toy store). Patches was commenting that she’d never bought toys for anyone else before. Apparently, they make a great break-up gift for your newly single girlfriends. That’s how I ended up with one in the first place.

ANYWAY, we went in and went straight to the toys. There was a very nice looking lesbian couple and a single man in the same section. We were confronted by a bewildering array of vibrators. A couple of them looked like they could also slice, dice and julienne vegetables with all the attachments. We chose one of those. It was called the “Jack R. Abbit”…..just like the one Charlotte had on Sex & the City. It lights up, spins, and does all the things vibrators are supposed to do. Then the single man asked the lesbian couple and Patches and myself (presumably, also a lesbian couple at this point) whether we had any recommendations about what to buy for a honeymoon. The taller lesbian said, “It’s ALL good. You’re in a sex toy store!”

Duh.

We looked around the rest of the store for a while. I thought about buying a button that said, ”You go girl, and take those tacky shoes with you!” But I didn’t. Patches and I got in the line to check out, and there was definitely a line at this point. So there we stood, a non-lesbian couple holding a pink, lit-up vibrator and a bottle of lube for our newly single friend. Clearly, a shining moment in my strange life. The clerk told us she had to take it out of the box and make sure that it worked because there were no returns. “And thank my lazy stars for that!” I thought. She took it out, put four C batteries in the thing and started up its undulating motions. The store phone rang, sales girl answered it and said (with Jack R. Abbit convulsing in her hand), “I’m sorry. We don’t have any dildos that size!” at which point Patches and I gave each other the wide-eyed WTF look and tried to keep from laughing. Oh and it gets better.

The sales girl put Jack in his plastic tray and then tried to put it back in its original packaging. But Jack would not fit in. The box tore down the side. “I’m sorry I ripped your box!” she said in a loud, cheery and not-at-all-ironic voice. It was such a bizarre and yet not entirely unexpected comment that Patches and I laughed so hard we had tears in our eyes. I hoped that Jack would be a bit more accommodating to his new mistress. The sales girl brought us a new box and told us she was out of batteries to sell us. Patches forked over the cash and we finally left for CVS to buy enough batteries to power a small nation. We took Jack, the lube and the batteries in a brown paper bag and dropped them off with Sugar at her house. She was happy, but slightly weirded out. I was slightly weirded out as well. I mean, what do you say when your straight girlfriend hands you a bag of sex toys?

The next morning, Sugar’s very appreciative thank-you note made the Starship Trip all worth while.

Thank you, Sugar Star and Patches....I could never have come up with this story on my own!

Top 100 High Schools in America

2005-05-10T11:40:00.000-05:00

Today is a great day, because I get to post about education and statistics….two of my favorite subjects. This week, Newsweek magazine lists the top 100 high schools in the country. My high school is # 89. My boyfriend’s high school is # 54….but hopefully he won’t read my post today so I can brag about it ;) Granted, my high school was not an IB school at the time I was there…..and little good it does me now….but I am still proud!

The method used to come up with the list was the number of AP or IB tests divided by the number of graduating seniors in 2004. I am not a huge fan of that particular tool to measure the “best” high schools….but I can hardly come up with a definition of “best.” Is the best high school that one whose students make the biggest improvement in reading comprehension or applied math? Is the one whose grades improve the most? The one who graduates the most students? The one with the highest percentage of students accepted to fancy private colleges? The one whose students get the highest grades in college?

Honestly, I think the best high school list is much closer to a list of "suburban places with upper middle class incomes and a highly educated populace"

The method used by Newsweek to rank high schools, in my humble opinion, is weak. But at least they tell you what it is. They have this to say:

“As a college degree becomes ever more essential in the workplace, much of high-school reform centers on getting as many students as possible ready for higher education. That's what the NEWSWEEK List tries to measure by ranking schools based on participation in AP and IB tests written and graded by outside experts. In these courses, students prepare for the demands of college and can earn college credit if their scores are high enough. NEWSWEEK omitted schools with strict academic admission standards that exclude average students. Although there's much debate about the value of standardized tests and AP in particular, NEWSWEEK's List is based on the conviction that no other standard works as well to measure a high school's success at challenging all students to perform at a high level.”

I probably would have chosen a regression analysis, holding constant the average income of the local population, whether it was in an urban, suburban, or rural area, average education of the seniors’ parents, etc. The problem is……that’s just a god-forsaken ton of expensive, time consuming, labor intensive data to collect! Who could know all that stuff?

Luckily for us, the Bureau of the U.S. Census knows. Even luckier, most of it is posted online for FREE. But the data is 4 years old now, and therefore not as timely as it could be to help us in our study. Consequently, I thank Newsweek for making my day with the good news about my high school, using that data that was available, reliable and timely.

Now, if I can avoid email from ANY and all Palm Bay High School alumni about how they used to “whip” my high school’s collective ass in the “Brain Bowl” my day will be complete. You guys probably had jackets that said “Mathletes” on them, like in the movie Mean Girls.

Deservedly So

2005-05-09T13:02:00.000-05:00

The other day I was in the airport, going through security. Uniformed military folks got to move to the head of the line. I thought that was nice :) Hopefully they were on their way home for some well deserved TLC from their families and friends.

Few Shall Understand

2005-05-06T16:21:00.000-05:00

When I was a freshman in college, I chose Beginning Fiction Writing for my first year English course. Most freshmen wisely enrolled in Composition 1000, or something of that nature. My fiction writing class was time consuming and uncomfortably introspective, but I did get to read a lot of good short stories by famous authors. I especially love A&P by John Updike. As a person who has grown up in a beachside town, I can relate to walking into a grocery store in a bathing suit and being frowned upon by the manager.

In addition to being a beach bunny, I am also apparently a glutton for punishment. My sophomore year, I enrolled in Beginning Poetry Writing. That class was more difficult than any other class I took in college. That class was more difficult than ALL the other classes I took in college. My teacher loved to give us assignments where we were given a poem …by Mark Strand or Ezra Pound (neither of whom are the rhyming poets, by the way)…and tell us to write our own poem in which the lines end in the same words as their poems. Also, there had to be seven syllables in the first line, a color in the second line and the name of a car in the 5th line, etc etc.

I would dutifully churn out something the night before it was due, make copies and pass them out to the class and our professor for discussion. Inevitably, my poems would come back with the words BANAL, TRITE and LAME written in large red letters on the front. At the time I was unfamiliar with the words “banal” and “trite,” but I certainly knew what “lame” meant. And as someone who prided herself on never getting less than an A in English, I was miffed!

My only comfort was that when I read my professor’s poems, I hadn’t the foggiest notion of what he was trying to convey. So you can only imagine my shock when I opened the Slate magazine on msn.com last week and found a poem by him. I am glad to see he is making a fine living as a doctor, because I still have little idea what’s going on in his poem.

Few Shall Answer

Many are called
to burn at least one thing they once owned —Rick Barot

You write that many are called, but Etruscan
murals are what come to mind, a neighbor's
coffee table book filled with blank pages below

a lithograph, its image stolen from a decrepit church.
Where are the many, my friend? In a factory,
or on a farm struggling in the dark before the rooster?

Are they out trimming the hedges while the mist
lifts from the countryside, entire walls
of it evaporating into the stagnant air?

Sometimes the sea shimmers in its oily
skin, the cliffsides climb into a clean
light, and everything—almost everything—is

as it should be. But for now, the girl
lying bent double on the railing is a Piero
painting coming apart, her shirt unbuttoning,

the leaflets of her hem, her dress
billowing like bad weather.
Many are called. Many are called into

their madness, the voices along the cliffs moving in
and out of their ears as they did before,
as they did when no-one

yet knew the word schizophrenia.
What great multitude, what great assembly
is called to mind? Many are called into the air,

right here along the Pacific's edge, and are
taken up in a draft and buoyed. Seeing things in
this way, how could I not believe there was another way,

that the body taken from the bridge was merely opening
at its seams, its bad humors spilling. But nothing
can reverse the terror and the heart quickening

as the body then falls away from you. Was my own heart
incapable of recognizing dread in that woman's final moment?
I once heard a woman explain that her stillborn

son had cried against her chest, his breath
furrowing under button after button
of her hospital gown, his breath terribly

quick in the way it shifted and fingered
her skin. Is this how the mind stops?
Many are called to do so many things, my friend.

And, as always, few shall answer.

100% Guilt Free

2005-04-27T19:00:00.000-05:00

I got a religious email from a friend with the usual exhortation at the end to “pass it on if you are not ashamed to say you love Jesus.”

Okay, frankly, that annoys me. The Internet is a great way to communicate…and that includes spreading the Good News. However, I feel that guilting someone into passing on a religious email only cheapens the message. Pass on the news of salvation because it is the most important thing you can ever tell anyone, NOT because you think you are going to Hell if you don’t.

The love of God is …well, I’m out of words, frankly. It’s just that spectacular.

I love Jesus and anyone who asks me how I feel about Him will be told, that yes, I am indeed going to Heaven because my sins have been paid for through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the holiest and most complete sacrifice ever made. I cannot earn my way into Heaven because Grace is FREE. It is God’s gift to all who love him.

No matter how many good works I perform, no matter how many decades of the rosary I pray, now matter how much money I put in the collection plate…..I cannot earn my salvation. My good works and generosity are the physical thanksgiving I show to the world for everything God has done for me. It is visible evidence of Providence.

Justice is when you get what you deserve.
Mercy is when you don’t get what you deserve.
Grace is when you get what you don’t deserve.

Amen!

P.S. Please continue to send me the emails, just delete the guilt-inducing messages at the end. Pass this message on ONLY if you are finished with guilt-inducing religious emails! And furthermore, I apologize if I’ve sent any myself.

Research Possibilities

2005-04-26T19:05:00.000-05:00

The signature on my email says: "Save the Earth. It's the only planet with chocolate."

I think that's probably a true statement. However, the following emails were exchanged between me and a friend of mine. He is also a research analyst...although a much more experienced one than I am.

He said: "This is outrageous! Do you have a research report, or even a sprinkling of data, to back up this claim? "

I said: "Sadly, space travel being as expensive and dangerous as it is, I have no data.

Even more sadly, neither NASA nor the Russians have deemed Chocolate Studies a worthy mission.

At the present juncture, I therefore conclude that there are no other intelligent beings in the universe....at least any with the technology to visit our tasty blue planet. Otherwise, they would already be here eating our chocolate. Or, dipping us in chocolate and then eating us.

You've got your humans in my chocolate!
No, you've got chocolate on my humans!

Two great tastes that taste great together! Crunchy!"

I always have time to discuss the unlikely, especially if it has to do with both space travel and chocolate.

Look at me, I'm Sandra Dee

2005-04-25T18:35:00.000-05:00

Work is just so nuts, my cube neighbor and I just burst into song.

What song? Hopelessly Devoted To You, the duet made timeless by Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta. I think it was hopelessly tuneless....much like junkyard dogs baying at the moon. But we got our administrative assistant to laugh so hard she har tears in her eyes, so I think it was worth it :)

I remember singing that song into a brush while looking in my bedroom mirror. It's a little more believeable these days. I am no longer a pumpkin-shaped child with a Dorothy Hammill haircut. And how I thank my lazy stars for that!

Still can't *quite* get away with the black pants Olivia wore at the end of the movie though. Sigh.

An All-time Favorite

2005-04-25T17:43:00.000-05:00

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know.
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
I and my ANNABEL LEE —
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this is the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me —
Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we —
Of many far wiser than we —
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the Beautiful ANNABEL LEE:
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the Beautiful ANNABEL LEE:
And so, all the night tide, I lay down by the side
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea —
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

-Edgar Allan Poe

The Inquisition

2005-04-20T18:01:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone. I wish you all would write to me…I need some topics. In lieu of having anything to important to say, (other than that my fake nails keep breaking off) I decided to make up one of those questions–you-send-your-friend thingys. Only, I hope this will be more interesting. Please write me back and let me know your answers! And feel free to add your own questions. What this world needs is more useless email.

What’s the most ridiculous thing in your fridge? (i.e. embarrassing, old, moldy, etc)
Atkins Maple Syrup….seriously, what’s the point?

How long does it take you to get ready for bed and why?
About an hour, since I take a shower before I begin the beautifying process. My mom sent me these patches to put on my wrinkles at night. They’re very sexy.

What drives you crazy about your mom/dad/sibling?
When you ask my mom, “How does that song go?” She’ll sing the ENTIRE song. My dad gets irritated if his schedule is thrown off by unforeseen circumstances. My brother always says he will meet us at church and he sleeps through it.

Do you believe in God?
All the time.

Does he believe in you?
All the time. Sometimes I think most especially when I don’t deserve it.

What quality about you do you hope your children (or possible children) will not inherit from you?
Other than my nose, I hope they are better at math and are more patient.

Do you have enough closet space?
Um, no. Is that possible?

What’s in your underwear drawer besides undies?
Handkerchiefs, sachets. Nothing exciting. I think that’s where a lot of people hide guns, money, drugs, love letters…..basically anything you don’t want anyone else to find.

What item do you wish you could get away with wearing but feel that you can’t quite pull it off?
A cape. I have one, but I don’t wear it. It’s fur and I feel like my own grandmother when I put it on.

What is a deal breaker in a romantic relationship?
Being rude to the waiter/salesclerk. Poor grammar.

How do your coworkers drive you insane?
They don’t actually. I like them. Lucky for them.

Would you consider yourself a nice person?
When she was nice, she was really really nice, but when she was mean, she was a bitch.

How old were you when you could tell time?
About 11. I had to tell my desk neighbor that I couldn’t see the clock because I needed glasses. It also took me while to open my own milk carton at lunch time.

Which word can you not type correctly?
Platform.

Which part of bad grammar/English usage annoys you the most?
The word “irregardless.” It’s REGARDLESS. Irregardless is redundant, inefficient and a double negative…like in algebra.

How many bottles of shampoo do you have?
Two. Both cheap ones.

Which household chore do you like?
Laundry, cleaning out the closet

Which household chore do you hate the most?
Cleaning the fridge, mopping, sweeping.

What is your favorite aisle in the supermarket?
The condiments. Then the band aid aisle.

What do you wish more people knew about you?
That I CAN understand geometry, at least.

What’s the best thing you cook?
Apple pie

What’s the worst thing that you cook?
Anything where I have to sauté chicken. I always overcook it.

Why is irony such a difficult word to define?
Because it’s easier to give an example. It’s when you leave so you don’t kill you father and marry your mother, and in the process of doing so you end up killing your father and marrying your mother.

What keeps you up at night?
Money worries. That and when my room is a mess, I seriously don’t sleep as well.

How do you fear dying?
Suffocating.

If you could, would you ban the Speedo on all parts of the globe?
No. Some people can get away with it. It helps if your name is Prince William.

Do you believe in Astrology? Why?
I’m intrigued by it, and it’s fun. But it makes me feel guilty. How can the planets and stars have anything to do with my love of household harmony and all things girly?

How did you get to be so dang good lookin’?
Sunscreen and a LOT of sleep ;)

Mortal Kombat - Corporate Style

2005-04-15T19:26:00.000-05:00

I’m having a few issues with the payroll department here at the old “place of employment.” Basically, my company moved from one incapable payroll firm to another incapable firm….at the same time as moving from paying our associates bi-monthly current to paying them 2 weeks in arrears.….at the same time as my department is hiring 200 people!!!….and then laying me off in September (but I digress).

I can only describe my chats with payroll as bordering on MORTAL KOMBAT!!!!!! Just like the movie, only with no old school techno music in the background. Here’s a sample:

Thank you for calling Personnel Assistance.
Press 1 for Work/Life Issues
Press 2 for Benefits
Press 3 for Advice and Counsel
Press 4 if you would like to be screwed by Payroll.

“Hmmm. I think I’d like to be screwed by payroll. It’s been about 2 weeks and I’m feeling a bit lonely.” (Pressing 4)

“Hello this is Andre. How can I provide you with world class customer service today?”

“Hi Andre, my name is Pink Gator and my social security number is blah blah blah.”

“Thanks Miss Gator. Please hold while I bring up your information. (seconds pass) Miss Gator, we cannot even find you in our payroll system. Are you quite sure you are an employee?”

“Well, I’m not driving on 285 every morning cause this is a cool place to hang out. I am concerned because I cannot see my pay stub online and I am concerned about my paycheck being deposited on time….(many many minutes pass while I explain the first paragraph in the posting.)

Okay, I am going to get a manager to research this and someone here will call you back.”

“Oh no. I’m quite willing to hold.”

“Well, it will be a couple of hours.”

“No problem, I’m a patient woman. I have a headset, and can work while I enjoy your fine sampling of classical music. Because if I have to hold for 3 hours, I’m fairly sure that will really screw up your average handle time, hold time and the entire payroll queue…and if that’s what it takes to get an answer, I’m fine with that…..because I have been told I would receive a call back and have not. I have been promised I would receive a timely paycheck and I have not. I have been told my payroll would be straightened out in the next pay period and that, too, has not occurred. So, as you can understand, I’ll hold.”

“Please hold Miss Gator.”

“I said that I would be happy to hold.” Jackass!

And on and on - ad infinitum.

So my call is placed BACK INTO THE PAYROLL QUEUE.

“If you would like to be patronized by payroll, press 1.
If you would like to repeatedly raped by payroll, press 2.
If you would like to be tortured with false promises by payroll, press 3.
If you would like no pay at all, press 4. Please press 4 now.
If you would like to be thrown under a bus by payroll, press 5.
If you would like to fling your body off of a tall building rather than deal with payroll, please press 6. And please don’t forget to turn in your badge before you jump. Thanks, and have a world class day!”

Pajama Party for One

2005-04-12T19:20:00.000-05:00

Very exciting news! Today at work I downloaded to my computer all the fun things I will need to work from home! Just think what a short commute that will be! I can wear my PJs if I feel like it…..and I probably will. Maybe I can get some laundry done between reports. Maybe I can vacuum during lunch.

Actually the real reason I will be working from home tomorrow is not that I need to do household chores. It’s just really that it’s so difficult to get anything done at the office. Ridiculous but true.

Wish me luck….and hopefully I will have time to post tomorrow ;)

Fashonista Faux Pas

2005-04-07T12:33:00.000-05:00

Last night I met Veronica for dinner at the Clubhouse Restaurant at Lenox Square Mall. I had the Kobe burger. It was delicious. I highly recommend it. Afterwards I went to Express, where a major sale is now in progress. Sadly, it was one of those sales where one really had to dig in the sale bin to find anything good. Everything was either a weird color, inappropriate for all occasions or sized extra small. Consequently, the pickins were slim. Thanks to my instincts as an “Urban Clothing Huntress” I did manage to find a very cool black top in the right size. Not totally work appropriate, but close. Well, sorta close. I stayed at Rob’s last night and didn’t go home and get anything to wear to work today. As Rob is a foot taller than me, I clearly could not wear something of his.

So, it was time to get creative.

I arrived at work this morning...and my cube neighbor took a one millisecond look at my ensemble and said, “Wow. I’m just gonna have to have another sip of my coffee before I can handle that outfit.”

My smile fading, I thought this was one of my more fun combinations. Hmmm.

Okay. I wore the black pants (NOT the candypantz) and black heels from yesterday. Then I put on my black shirt I just bought. The all black thing was making me look like a stylist at a hair salon. I had to break it up. But with what? Into Rob’s closet. Hmm. Well, colorful sashes are the thing now….so I started looking for his ties to use one as a belt. I chose one I had CLEARLY missed when “helping” Rob clean out his old clothes. Its from the 70s probably, black, white and khaki geometric shapes. I tied it in a Windsor knot through the belt loops of my pants. I think where I went wrong was the earrings. I wore some especially long and dangly silver ones I had left at Rob’s from last weekend.

Cube neighbor told me that he did like the outfit, it just wasn’t me. I guess that “dressing conservative at work” thing is working out. Everyone here thinks I’m a conservative dresser. Truth is, if I can have my conservative clothes, AND my fun clothes…then I just have an excuse for more clothes!

I think I looked good. And my supervisor is out of town….so no one is around to really say anything about the appropriosity of the outfit…not that she would anyway.

Hmm. I think I am going to keep the tie, err, belt and wear the ensemble again…maybe just not to worki...unless I start to style hair for a living.

P.S. Turns out the tie was from Rob's high school days bagging groceries at the local Albertson's. If one of the bag boys forgot to wear a tie, the manager kept old ones around for them to wear. Wow, if that tie was old in the 80s, I wonder how old it is now!

We Came in Peace for all Mankind

2005-04-06T15:09:00.000-05:00

Sorry for having been gone for so long everyone. Work has been stressful of late…and I’ve had the stomach flu. However, with all that behind me now I am ready to re-commence blogging.

I do have a special request: Would everyone out there please pray for a successful launch of the Space Shuttle? Discovery is supposed to begin its journey out to the pad today in the return to flight effort. The launch date is tentatively set for May 15, but the launch window of opportunity extends till June 3. If it doesn't go during that time frame, another window opens in July. These are windows to allow best access to the space station.

It’s not that NASA has not had many many successful launches, it’s just that I suspect everyone might have a fear of “getting back on the bicycle,” so to speak. My stomach hurts just thinking about it…so you can only imagine how Dad is feeling…

Manned space flight is, of course, an extremely complex undertaking. I think “we” (humans in general and Americans in particular) are spoiled by the success rate NASA has kept up in terms of completed missions. Individuals will sometimes be lost in the noble effort to explore our beautiful universe and to attempt to answer some of humanity’s most complicated questions. I am reasonably confident that astronauts would choose the same career again, knowing the risks that they would face.

Please pray for a safe launch and landing, a successful mission and good weather. Pray for the astronauts (and one cosmonaut!), scientists, engineers, analysts, technicians and others…that God will steady their hands and hearts, guide their decisions, and protect them from harm.

Here is one of my favorite hymns, a good place to start in terms of prayers:
Bless Thou the astronauts who face the vast immensities of space; And may they know, in air, on land, Thou holdest them within Thy hand. O may the small step each doth take aid others giant leaps to make.

Thanks everyone :)

"Dissent is the highest form of patriotism."

2005-03-28T19:43:00.000-05:00

Don’t you admire Thomas Jefferson? He’s so quotable, and had beautiful penmanship.

If you are a blue in a red state, like me, this might cheer you up. Or if you're a red, mgrossogofsu will be a most able sparring partner. Here is his very well researched blog: The Little Hippocrat.

I’ll leave the politics to other, more able debaters than myself. I tend to get emotional when discussing such topics, even though I’m usually right….or left, as it were ;)

“I have never considered a difference of opinion in politics, in religion, in philosophy, as a cause for withdrawing from a friend”

Deadly Sins

2005-03-23T23:03:00.000-05:00

There are many kinds of sins in the world. There are sins of commission…where you do something wrong. And sins of omission, where you fail to do something right…like fail to report a violent crime, or forget to renew your license tags (which reminds me……….).

Most sins are menial sins. However, there are seven deadly sins: Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, sloth and greed. A while back I sent out a little quiz from Tickle.com, “Which is your deadly sin?” It’s the kind where you can send your friends the results. Every male friend of mine, except one, turned out to have Lust as their deadly sin. I know, extremely shocking. The remaining male friend’s was Pride. I have to say, he does a good job of hiding it.

Mine was no surprise however. At least not to me. It wasn’t greed (for more shoes, clothes, etc.) Not gluttony, although I do find that one rather appealing.

It’s sloth. I love to lie in the sun. Lie in bed. Lie on the sofa. Sleep as much as possible. Snooze when riding Marta. Press the snooze button 3 times in the morning. Why run when you can walk, walk when you can stand, stand when you can sit, or sit when you can lie down? That’s not my personal motto….but it explains a lot of my non work-related behavior.

I swear, if I were an animal, I'd definitely be some kind of cat. Presumably, my parents' extra lazy, huge, Jabba the Hut-esque cat. I’m feeling sleepy just thinking about it.

Miss Hallmark 2005

2005-03-23T00:06:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting in my bed, taking a break from writing thank you notes and Easter cards. Rob has just accused me of being in love with Hallmark. What can I say? I love a good greeting card. I'm often in the store, choosing a card, thinking, "This is such a cute card. I wish someone would send this one to me. Hmm." Sometimes it happens...which is cool. I love it when I find a card that no one else would enjoy except me and the recipient. A couple of years ago a I sent Kristina a card with a wooly mammoth frozen into a block of ice on the front. Her husband didn't find it funny at all....which was okay since the card was for Kristina in the first place. We laughed forever over that card. I can tell you're not laughing...but she was. At that is the perfect greeting card.

Once I got a card from Tammy saying, "The feeling of wearing new shoes while shopping more new shoes. That is what I wish for you on your birthday." What a perfect sentiment! See, some cards you never forget :)

Cats

2005-03-19T21:43:00.000-05:00

Here I sit, watching the musical Cats on dvd. I think we're nearing the end of act 1...and I'm wondering just how much more I can take. I've had enough leg warmers, pointless dance numbers and incomprehensible lyrics to hold me for a while. I'm only rude enough to be typing on the computer because it's under the pretext that I am looking up a summary so I could follow the serpentine "plot" of this story.

For some reason, the whole thing is reminding me of the Billy Joel's video for Uptown Girl.

Don't Light the Lent Candles with a Hangover

2005-03-18T17:01:00.000-05:00

A little while back, I held my very fantastic annual cocktail event, The Pink Party. On the day before this event, the parish administrator from my church, Carson, emailed and asked if I and my fabulous boyfriend, Rob, could light the Lenten candles during the Bible reading in church on the following Sunday. I unwisely said yes because they were in a pinch. When I told Rob, he asked if we could possibly recant….because we would probably not even make it to church on Sunday. At least Rob is a realist.

Sunday morning arrived far too early. Rob was called into work to perform miracles on some misbehaving Unix servers. I think he got off easily. The only miracle I could work was to actually GET to church.

Before I begin to tell you just where things went so very wrong, I have to explain one thing. Do you know what that thing is called that the acolytes carry to light the candles? (Or that ‘altar servers’ carry, if you’re Catholic?) Me neither. I had seen them many times but never knew what they were called. They have a candlesnuffer on one end and a retractable wick on the other with which to light the candles. Anyway, I looked it up on Google…and despite encountering a bewildering array of Wiccan sites on how to use candles in witchcraft…they’re just called “candlesnuffers.” No special name. Hmmph. Well, THAT’S kind of boring…

Anyway, I arrived appropriately dressed but with a huge headache. Carson found me and said, “How ARE you?!” I winced and said I was fine. He explained that during the second hymn, I was to walk up from my seat in the pews, take the candlesnuffer, light the wick from the altar candle, wait for the Bible reading, light the Lenten candelabra, replace the candle snuffer and sit back down.

No problem.

I got up, picked up the candlesnuffer from its stand, lit the wick, walked back around to the other side of the candelabra, lit the Lent candles, waited for the very long reading…... Suddenly, I could NOT find the candlesnuffer’s stand! I looked and looked. I was beginning to panic during the reading. The reading ended and I was still standing there with the snuffer in my hands. There was nowhere to put it. I didn’t want to lay it on the ground…it might be one of those objects that’s not supposed to touch the ground, like the American flag or a tabernacle or communion chalice. Then I saw it behind me. I placed the candlesnuffer in the stand, let out a grateful sigh, and returned to my pew.

After I was seated, I saw, to my abject horror, one of the acolytes coming down off his ornately carved chair to remove the snuffer. He then placed the snuffer in it’s proper stand, which was HIDDEN on the other side of the candelabra. Then, he placed the microphone in it’s proper stand…..which was where I had put the candlesnuffer…..

A small titter passed over the congregation and I was sort of the hoping that the Second Coming would begin immediately so I could be spared my embarrassment. Really genuine sentiment, don’t you think? At least I was at church :)