Mini Me

So this would be me if I were a cartoon. Aren't I cute? Seriously - doesn't this look just like me?

I wish she was an actual miniature me. I could send her to run all my errands, do my landry, feed the dog. I could even send her up to New York to kick that theatre lady in the teeth. Real hard.

That was very negative. I apologize for that. But you see, I've decided that I actually am very pissed off about the whole situation and I'm having a hard time not dwelling on it like I told myself I would try to do. I said to myself that it was time to move on and work toward the next step, take action for plan B. But, then I realized that I have no plan B and I don't know what the next step is. There are many I need to take, and I can't seem to decide on any of them. I think that I'll be angry for a few more days and see what occurs to me. Epiphanies aren't totally unheard of in unfortunate situations, right? Hmm.

I'm taking the man to get a pedicure for his birthday tomorrow. Never mind that his birthday was last weekend. Tomorrow's the day. Beach, pedicure, tennis. That sounds like a lovely plan and I can't wait to share the day with him. A friend of ours told us the woman who's giving him the pedicure tomorrow is the best in Miami. Hell, he said it was the best pedi he's ever gotten, and that says a lot... he's a model - he's had more than his share of footwork. I'm not a model and it seems that lately I've had more than my share of shit. Hrmph. Must change that...

Eh?

Big ups, K & T! Gotta run, I'm going oot & aboot.

Proud and a little sad

This morning on the way to work, my dad called. He was calling to find out when my fashion show is so he can make sure to be off from work and come up to New York. I had to tell him that the original show was abrputly cancelled, but that there was another one in the works. I'll be sure to tell him as soon as I have a date, but it was pretty painful to have to tell him that he doesn't have to worry about coming up in November. It means the world to me that he wants to come, that he wants to be involved with something I'm doing and show support.

It may seem like a no-brainer to some that my dad would want to be there for my first show. He's the dad, I'm the kid, that's what parents do, right? But, my dad knows nothing about fashion, he doesn't really "get" why I'm excited about design, hell I don't even think he's ever seen any of my work. He's a simple guy, he goes to work, he comes home, he plays golf, he annoys my mom, he goes to work again... he's not into the arts, per se (although he's a sucker for Broadway shows, go figure), and while he finds things that I really enjoy frivolous and silly, he never discourages me from pursuing them.

I think I had my first real adult conversation with my dad a few years ago. I was planning my wedding (thank gawd it didn't actually happen) and there were some people on my ex's side who were making it very tough on me. My dad called, asked me over for dinner, and told me that if anyone calls me about the wedding with any questions or complaints that they need to call him. He said to give out his number like it's the hottest ticket in town and not even talk to whoever was calling. He didn't want me to stress out about a day that should be wonderful. It was very moving. I love my dad, but he and I never really had a very close relationship. I've always been much closer with my mom and my dad hasn't really known how to relate to me. I'm a little "out there" for his taste and I think in some ways it intimidates him. So, when he sat me down like that and spoke to me as his daughter, but also as a bone fide adult, it felt trememdous.

It was awful to tell him that my show had been cancelled. His first reaction was, "Oh no! Really? What happened?" I didn't have an answer for him. That sucked. I mean, it really sucked. I don't know what happened, I don't know why it was cancelled, I have been given no explanation and I don't think I'll ever get one. All I could tell him is that I'm working on a new location and a new date and as soon as I get it he'll be the first to know. He tried to go right into happy mode, cheering me up and saying things like, "Well, you just let me know and I'll be there, OK?" and I could tell he knew I was very disappointed, even though he doesn't really understand why I was jazzed about it in the first place. He knows it's a big deal for me, and that's all he cares about. I think that's great. My dad is awesome. He doesn't have a clue what makes me tick, but he loves me and that's what counts.

Breathing a little easier today...

For several reasons. And they all have to do with people who love me. Isn't that wonderful?

1) K is helping me craft a response to the pathetic email I received last night from the theatre company's GM. She's a brilliant writer and can be quite tactful, so it's going to be a good one.
2) NYC-J is talking to her company about producing my show and even talking to a contact with Emerson's alumni association to see if he can use his vast network of contacts to secure a location. Since it's a benefit for the scholarship I think folks will be down with it. She's going to get on that next week because she's so busy right now she hardly has time to wipe her ass.
3) The man joined a tennis league and his first practice match went well last night. Tonight is the first real one and I couldn't be happier that he's getting out there doing something he enjoys again. He deserves to have a stress-relief activity. I'm really glad he's back on the court.
4) I used my new washer for the first time last night. OK, the washer doesn't love me and it's clearly not a person, but whatever - I was very glad to do laundry in my garage instead of a laundromat. Plus, it's the washer that I got off of craigslist for $10. Brilliant.
5) DC-J is doing a HUGE thing this weekend and I am very proud of her. She's doing a 50 mile walk to raise money for research and treatment of a disease that she doesn't even have. She's a tireless force of energy - even when she's exhausted and feeling horrible with her own health problems - she's thinking of others and lending a helping hand. I admire you, J. You're a great example of what our generation can be. Knock 'em dead this weekend and keep those feet dry!

I hope that this will be the start of a lovely upswing of positivity in my daily blogging from here on out. At least for a few days...

Blood boiling... want to cry and scream at the same time!

If you've read 2 entries prior you are a little famililar with the fucking retarded saga that is going on in Melissa's fashion world right now. Here's the email:

Last week I got an email asking for my # so the GM of the theatre company that's hosting my show could give me a call to chat about the event. I provided such #, she never called. Then I got this email from her yesterday (mind you, the email asking for my # is the first time I've had any contact with her, as I've been dealing with her producer):

Melissa,

Unfortunately at this time I don't feel we can continue moving forward with
this Fashion Show. I am sorry things were originally misrepresented to you.
Perhaps in the future we can talk more about a collaboration with your
fashion line.

Sincerely,
C****
***** Theatre Company - You can just assume the name is Asshat Theatre Company, that will suffice

Yeah, um, what? Are you kidding me? What ever do you mean by that? In my state of shock I composed the following reply:

Cindy -

Is there a reason for the sudden halt with the show? I've already invested a significant chunk of time and money - I've purchased fabric, I've lined people up to work the show, I've made pieces specifically for the event. Saying I'm confused is an understatement. Is there no way to continue with the plans?

A day and a half goes by and I get this as a response:

Melissa,
Unfortunately there is no way to continue. There are certain demands our company is experiencing currently that we are forced to deal with.
Best of luck,
Cindy

Demands like following through with your scheduled events? Demands like putting effort into not being such toolbags? I haven't written back yet. I am far too angry and would surely say something that I would regret. Not regret for being rude, regret for not composing my scathing reply letting her know how incredibly unprofessional and hideous this "decision" of hers is in a more intelligent and creative manner. She didn't even call me. Did not have the common courtesy to call me on the phone to speak to me. She needs to know that this is unacceptable, that it's been scheduled for months now, that people are lined up, that money has been spent, that she has not only messed with a dream of mine but also fouled up fundraising plans for a murdered friend's scholarship. How can you be so cold and dead inside that you don't want to do something good to honor the memory of a murdered woman, for Pete's sake? I may not have the most connections, but I know a lot of people who know a lot of people and those people are in the theatre community in New York. Let me just say that I'm not keeping this to myself. I hate spending time being negative (stop laughing, I know that's not entirely evident by this blog) but this isn't through my system yet and I'm afraid it's not moving quickly.

I am blatantly stealing

This came from Cat & Sapphire who are very funny and live in the UK. Not really sure why I had to add that they're in the UK, but they are and I did. Maybe something to counteract the very serious public perception of Brits? Idigress... I lifted this from their blog because it's a riot and I don't think they'd mind a smidge.

To get the full effect, this should be read aloud. You will understand what 'tenjewberrymuds' means by the end of the conversation.

The following is a telephone exchange between a hotel guest and room-service, at a hotel in Asia, which was recorded and published in the Far East Economic Review:

Room Service (RS): "Morrin. ; Roon sirbees."

Guest (G): "Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service."

RS: "Rye..Roon sirbees..morrin! Jewish to oddor sunteen??"

G: "Uh..yes..I'd like some bacon and eggs."

RS: "Ow July den?"

G: "What??"

RS: "Ow July den?...pryed, boyud, poochd?"

G : "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please."

RS: "Ow July dee baykem? Crease?"

G: "Crisp will be fine."

RS : "Hokay. An Sahn toes?"

G: "What?"

RS:"An toes. July Sahn toes?"

G: "I don't think so."

RS: "No? Judo wan sahn toes??"

G: "I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what 'judo wan sahn toes' means."

RS: "Toes! toes!...Why jew don juan toes? Ow bow Anglish moppin we bodder?"

G: "English muffin!! I've got it! You were saying 'Toast.' Fine. Yes, an English muffin will be fine."

RS: "We bodder?"

G: "No...just put the bodder on the side."

RS: "Wad!?"

G: "I mean butter...just put it on the side."

RS: "Copy?"

G: "Excuse me?"

RS: "Copy..tea...meel?"

G: "Yes. Coffee, please, and that's all."

RS: "One Minnie. Scramah egg, crease baykem, Anglish moppin we bodder on sigh and copy... rye??"

G: "Whatever you say."

RS: "Tenjewberrymuds."

G : "You're very welcome."

Am I angry or am I sad and why can't I tell the difference?

The big ol' kick in the ass of the day is that I just got a very short email telling me that the GM of the theatre company that is supposed to be hosting my fashion show in November (yep, my very first one that's only a month and a half away) saying, "Unfortunately at this time I don't feel we can continue moving forward with this Fashion Show. I am sorry things were originally misrepresented to you. Perhaps in the future we can talk more about a collaboration with your fashion line." That's it. That's the whole thing. No more explanation than that. Zip, nada, bupkis. I asked for one, but I doubt I'll get it. My gut feeling is that there were too many cooks in the kitchen and balls got dropped left and right on their end. Duties were shifted around and producers were changed halfway through the planning process and I think rather than clean up other peoples' messes the GM would rather cancel my show than work it out up there.

"Originally misrepresented" to me? How is that, exactly? Misrepresented in the sense that it was scheduled at all? Misrepresented? You asked me to do a show. I said I'd love to. We talked about dates, we settled on one. I got a list of electronic equip. at the space and talked to you about A/V stuff. We talked about the guidelines for printed materials and email advertising. Your people offered to emcee and send out email invitations of their own. I already have people lined up to work the show, be models, come into town to attend. I've already bought fabric, started making clothes, lined the man up to do the graphics portion. Misrepresented is quite beyond understatement.

Location isn't everything in fashion. In many other areas it's all there is, but luckily with this type of thing it's not a make it or break it kind of requirement. But it is a requirement - I can't stage a show on the sidewalk in New York in November. Brr. But, what I can do is keep my wits about me, gather my strength and calm (which are both waning fast) and get my NYC girls to put their heads together to see if they have any ideas about alternate locales. I just need a space. Give me a room and I can put on this show.

While I know that this isn't the end, it's an awfully hard blow to my confidence because now there's a major chink in the chain and I don't know exactly what my next step is. This will happen, but doubtfully the same weekend. This is my dream we're talking about here. My dream will not be squashed by circumstance, but it's tough to get past the initial shock and get to work on plan B. I'm angry and sad and tired and energized all at the same time. Now I need to turn any negativity into positive energy so it doesn't eat me alive and I'll be fine.

I now pronounce you...

Tired and sniffly. I'm recovering from the weekend. The man and I went to DC this for K's wedding. It was awesome. Really, it was. What's not awesome is that the second my body senses I'm in the DC-metro vicinity it goes into allergic shock mode and I can't breathe for a week. It's working its way out of my system now, but until then I have swollen sinuses and headaches pretty much all day.

The flight up there on Thursday sucked, but it was more than worth it. Note to parents everywhere: a 3 year old should not be given the choice of whether or not s/he would like to go to the bathroom when there is a fairly evident poopy diaper involved - s/he gets taken to the bathroom even if resistent to such action. When your 10 year old son tells you that it's a wise decision to put the 3 yr. old in her seat and you, the mother, tell him that "she'll just get back up again", it's frustrating. It's even more frustrating when the 10 year old replies, "Well, then you don't let her get back up." Duh. We arrived safe and sound, so the screaming poopy diaper child from hell along with her parents, Mr. & Mrs. Incompetentopenmouthgumchewers, were just a slight smudge on the memory of the voyage.

Got to spend some time with my mom, which was great. She's so cool. Even when she drives me crazy I love her to death. She took it like a champ when K's new hubby's dog came right up to her, lifted his leg, and pissed on her. Oh yeah, my mom got pissed on. Pissed on by a huge rottweiler, no less. The man said he'd never seen her move so fast. But she squealed a little, toweled herself off, and changed her shoes - luckily she had a reserve pair in her truck. I walked up to the front of the aisle at the start of the ceremony and K's hubby leaned in and said, "Dude, my dog peed on your mom." His friend who was videographer for the day said, "Uh, guys, I'm getting this all on tape... and you're mic'd." It was classic. Can't wait to see the DVD!

K looked more radiant than I've ever seen her. If someone you love has ever been with someone you loathed then you probably know what it feels like when the loved one finds the right person. That's what it's like with K & T. They're super great people and they're crazy about each other. He looks at her and you can just see the love there. I told him how proud I was that he was going to be my best friend's husband while we were getting ready to go out Thursday night and he teared up. His eyes welled up. It was a very cool moment.

The wedding was at a state park about 2 hours south of DC. It was beautiful there. We were out in the middle of nowhere and at night it was so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I did the Frankenstein/mummy walk with my arms outstretched as far as I could just to find the door to the bathroom in the middle of the night. For 2 days it was really nice to be that far away from civilization. I think another day of it and I would have gone a little crazy, but the time we spent there was very good.

The man was a huge help all weekend long. He drove us around, ran errands, helped corral guests, even tied T's tie before the wedding and put in his cufflinks (his hands were a little shaky). T told the man that if he hadn't have been there he just wouldn't have worn the tie... no one else getting ready with him knew how to tie one! We couldn't have gotten everything done if he hadn't have been there. Plus, he looked great.

A friend of ours actually performed the ceremony and it couldn't have been more perfect. She did such a fantastic job - her voice didn't crack with emotion or anything. She practiced a lot - had the girls she works with in tears one day. Love that. It was like she had done it before, that's how good she was. I wouldn't have been able to do anywehre near as good of a job. I was pretty proud of myself for holding my emotions in the whole way until K danced with her dad. I saw that, and heard the song they were dancing to, and it was all she wrote.

I had a great time, and I wish I was still there, hanging out with the crazy Canadians, surrounded by cases and cases of beer, in the middle of the woods, in the pitch black night, toasting marshmallows, laughing with a huge smile on my face and seeing the faces of my friends. It had been too long since I'd seen them, and I can't let that happen again. It's like J & I have said before, it's great to email, great to call on the phone, but to see the expression on your dear friends' faces is so precious. It was wonderful medicine and I hope to get another dose really soon.

Random shout out: Go, J. You started a blog and that's so super cool. And you looked way hot in that little black dress at the wedding, you minx, you.

Helpful Tips & Tricks for the Workplace

There are some universal truths in this world - the sun rises and sets each day and night, people will always love/hate Oprah and Martha Stewart, matzoh ball soup can cure any kind of ache from head to heart, and some office behaviors are unacceptable.

For example - if you have an "office" that is made entirely of the divider walls that cubicles are constructed of and they just happen to go floor to ceiling to provide you with some semblance of importance and executive status, this does not mean that said "office" is sound-proof or even remotely as sound-resistant as a true-walled office would be. Case in point: the woman, originally from Texas (take that to imply exactly what you think I mean to imply), whose "office" is next to my cube. She thinks that because she has a door she has free reign to talk as loudly as she pleases on her speaker phone (turned up to high volume, natch) about topics ranging in substance from the latest reason she hates her pathetic husband who does nothing but enable her insatiable shoe buying habit, to bitching and moaning about the most recent gaffe committed by another exec down the hall who is surely endowed with a pathetic member resembling a roll of dimes. TIP: shut the hell up if you think other people can hear you, and if you discuss something quite personal please, oh please, speak quieter. And here's another thing - I hear those farts. The juicy one this morning, the one that immediately preceded your jaunt to the restroom... that was gross.

Further enlightenment - Cuban lady who sits on the other side of my cube from the Texas lady, I say "bless you" every time you sneeze (which is very often, you better not get me sick, woman). You always say "thank you", which I appreciate. However, when I sneeze, which is rarely, you never say "bless you". Why is that? I think you're rude. TIP: Be polite and use good manners. Be reciprocal, that's all. It's called the Golden Rule. It's called karma. It's called universal balance. In addition, I don't need to hear 57 times a day how you were "pahreeeliyyyyzed" when you were "thurrrteee four yearsss old" and now you're suffering from "deeeteereeoraaaayshun of theeee carrteeleedge". I feel badly that you have physical problems. I really do. But you shouldn't use that as a response when people say, "Hello, how are you today?" They don't really want that story as your reply. It's not cool. And by the way, I know your voice is giving out today because you have a cold, but every time you call someone to tell them you're not feeling good and you're losing your voice, you increase that vocal loss. So shut up. Thanks.

One more - hey, Mr. Security guard. It's nice that you greet me in the mornings. It is. I enjoy that. But I can't spend 10 minutes hearing every detail of your day because I'm the only schmuck dumb enough to stop moving as I make my way through the lobby and end up getting snared by your conversational web. Also, you might want to stop emphatically saying hello to me very loudly every time I pass through the lobby - which is about 10 times per day. It throws off the impression that you may be a bit slow in the mental department, and while I know that to be true, most people shouldn't be priivy.

That said, I believe there is a piece of carrot cake in the cafe with my name on it.

Tomorrow is Thursday, Thursday is a good day. I get to go to DC with the man and see my girls!!!! Oh, the relief and glee are overwhelming. :)

RIta says stay home!

Office is closed. Rain will be coming down pretty good in a couple hours. I get to stay in bed and watch the Style network all day.

P.S. Kimora Lee Simmons is terribly annoying and Michael Kors is a pompous asshat. Not sure if you've noticed that, but I swear it's so true.

Everything is Illuminated

Click it, click it!

Holy crap, batman, this is AWESOME! This is one of my favorite books and Jonathan Safran Foer is one of my favorite authors. I've written a bit about him in the past and I really can't gush enough. He's brilliant. He's 29. He has 2 best sellers... and they're the only books he's ever written. I hate him a little, but I adore him a whole lot more. Just found this on CNN and am hoping it will be wonderful. Liev Schreiber is a strange fellow. Cool, but strange. Ran into him once in SoHo. OK, stalked him for a few blocks and managed to edge in a little normal interaction (hey, it's what I do, I'm the mastaaaaaaah). Basically I said, "Nice jacket." To which he responded after slowly exhaling a drag of of his extra long ashed cigarette, "Thanks." Thrilling? Not exactly. Satisfying? If you're me, then yes. Yes it was.

UPDATE: Rita

I made it home. Wasn't able to catch a ride, took the bus/train combo instead and it wasn't that bad apart from the fact that it took me an hour and a half to get home. Otherwise, no biggie. It's windy. It's grey. The rain has started to fall. I guess about 45 minutes ago would have been a good time to throw a load of laundry in, not now. Don't really want to brave the rain gauntlet to get to the garage and back while schlepping clothes and trying to stay as dry as possible in the process.

The man is stopping at the grocery on the way home to pick up the essentials: dog food, rice, coffee, and of course beer. God love him, he's a keeper.

As my eyeballs are dry and the lids want to close on their own I think I'm going to take a nap. I've been sleeping for shit lately and must be rested for Thursday when we will fly to DC (ON TIME, RITA - DO YOU HEAR ME????) for the grand reunion of my girls and K's wonderful, blissful wedding.

Rita, Rita, bo-Bita, Bana Fana Fo-Fita, Me, Mi, Mo-Mita - RITA!

Listen up, Mother Nature. I'm ususally down with your wacky schemes, your interesting weather patterns, your demonstrations which humble and inspire me with the power that dwells in the Earth and all her forces... but I'm fucking sick of hurricanes, dude. Way sick of them. Think maybe it's time to pester Antarctica with another blizzard or something? How about giving us semi-tropical folks a little respite until next season.

Rita is coming. Yesterday afternoon there was some chatter about a new tropical storm brewing just north of Cuba. A few hours later she had a name (and not an especially delightful name, either. No offense if you're a Rita, it's just not on the top of my list of all-time fave names for my hypothetical children) and now she has a predicted path of destruction that's set to disrupt at least my afternoon and probably the next few days. Now before you go thinking I'm such a wimpy, selfish ho - I understand that Katrina did practically nothing to us compared to the gulf coast, but you know what? It still sucked. It left everyone here under water, without power, and out of work for 5 days. If Rita does that again there are lots of people here who will be affected in nasty ways and I'll be one of them. The office is closing in 15 minutes to let everyone go home and prepare their houses. That's very thoughtful and responsive, but it means that I'm in the hole for 2 hours of work so far and probably 8 tomorrow.

Last bitch and moan of the day (wait - of the day so far... I can't cheat myself out of further opportunities to complain about worthless junk, c'mon now) if Rita screws up our flights to DC on Thursday for K's wedding weekend I will probably have the most intense of private meltdowns and a rather rousing public one, as well. Rita - don't mess with this sister. I beg you.

Short & Sweet (& Painful & a bit Bloody, too)

It looks a lot more squat than it actually is in this pic... but this is the newest addition to my skin art collection. There's a whole, great story behind it but I'm really sleepy at the mo and want to lull myself to sleep while watching the Emmys. It was a great experience and the tattoo came out even better than I could have hoped for in my conceptions of how it might have been.









The man was a brilliant sneak and brought a camera to the shop without my knowledge, and he snapped a pic right at the beginning of the outline. I love that man.

Here's Darren hard at work. He's a tiny little man, super nice and very talented. I'm so glad he was my artist.

Small screens and even smaller minds...

Today I went to the casting director's office for some prelim camera stuff for next season's Miami Ink. (wow, I managed to make that sound very casual and sort of lingo-ish, but not in that trying-too-hard way... all the while practically pissing myself with excitement) It went well. The casting chick liked me a lot, she said that she doesn't even think the producer's going to want to do a second screening because I have a great story and I'm "adorable". Aww. That was nice to hear. Basically the bottom line is that there's a better than average chance that I'll be on one of next season's episodes. I'm totally stoked. It's one of my favorite shows and now I might be on it. That's just crazytown. I love crazytown.

What I don't love is that I had to take Miami-Dade public transportation in order to get to the casting director's office in SoBe. I'm not against public transport - not at all, in fact I'm very much pro train and bus whenever possible. Here's the thing, though - that pro attitude applies everywhere but here. The strangest of the strange ride the Miami bus system. They really do. Lucky for me half the population of screaming idiots on the morning bus were actually from New York, so I kind of felt nostalgic. That is, until the crazy old dude started making up fake Jewish prayer chants and yelling them at the orthodox dudes who got on just as we crossed the causeway. Oy vey. It was bad. You know when you're trying to do an impression of someone who speaks a language that you don't you might make sounds that sort of remind you of that language, but you're clearly doing it in jest? Well, this guy was trying to sound like he was singing Hebrew prayers, but it an obviously mocking tone. No me gusta. This is the same guy who sat down and whined (very loudly), "Aww maaaaaan, I wanted to sit next to a guurrrrrrrrrrrl!!!" as he took a seat next to a rather large, burly gentleman with a shaved head and handlebar mustache.

Then on the way home on the afternoon bus there was a distinct smell of shit and urine - fabulous combination. Can't forget about the Haitian woman behind me who spoke so loudly into her cell phone that I had to fight with everything I had not to ask her to take it down a decibel or two. Add to that the school children with the fake gold teeth capped over their lower teeth which made them talk with lisps - oh yeah, this is a major fashion trend down here. Apparently the more ridiculous you can make yourself the cooler you are. I haven't quite figured the whole fake gold teeth thing out yet, though. Lastly, the woman with the push cart full of garbage and random clothing that she drug onto the bus and then left in the middle of the aisle blocking everyone's way... she might be my favorite.

The day had several high notes, though. Miami Ink was great. I got to see Joe, who was in town for a whopping 30 some hours or so, for a couple of afternoon bloody marys at a posh little boutique hotel. I stopped and had lunch at Dogma - man, oh man do I love hotdogs (there's a whole hot dog tangent that I must go off on soon... J & K & I were talking about it yesterday and it's quite striking, I digress...) and washed it down with a mint lemonade. Now I think I'm going to take a nap. I'm spent.

Side-splitting email banter

Yesterday I was feeling pretty cranky and sad and down and weird. Whenever I'm feeling less than stellar I know I can count on my friends (2 in particular) to make me laugh so hard that I snort and giggle and try to hold it in and then end up making all sorts of embarrassing noises in my cubicle. They will randomly bust out with a little snippet of witty something or other that tickles me like nothing else. I don't know how they do it. They're two of the funniest women around, I swear to you it's true. This is a small sampling of what I get in my inbox from them every day. It's awesome to have people like this in your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had written that I was feeling sad and missing my friends a lot.
K wrote:
well, even if we're miles and miles away, we're with you in spirit, girl. that's what verizon-to-verizon is for when you can't give hugs- you give verbal hugs. ((((((((((((((((((((HUG)))))))))))))))))))))))
well, to brighten your day, how about i give you a snippet of mine! :)
i'm cramping today- took all the aleve that i was allowed to in a 24hour period and now i had to break out the heating pad because it's getting really bad. and i'm working late tonight. B and J (from work) took me out to lunch and gave me a victoria's secret gift certificate... and we noshed on chicken fingers and fries. i proceeded to chip off half the tooth that i had the root canal on while i was eating a fry and couldn't eat anymore i was so grossed out. at least it doesn't hurt- but now i'm walking around with 1/2 a molar. FUN. J smacked me with a door on the way out of the restaurant, and i looked at myself in the mirror after we got back to the office and found these HUGE creases under my eyes that i had never seen before- maybe i'm just really dehydrated and worn out from shitting myself all day yesterday and being so uncomfortable today. yeah. let's say that's it. HOLY HELL. lol

Now, she's going to kill me because I left the part in about the shit - but here's the deal. There's a small circle of us who are all afflicted with the horrors of ineffective digestive systems. We don't like it, we're not proud of it, and we're bothered by it. But, there's camaraderie in bad bathroom experiences, so we chat about it when it's particularly bad. Makes light of the fact that our bodies are staging an intestinal revolution without our consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
J had deleted the email that had my address in it for the 4th time and we were all having a bit of fun with what my correct address actually is.
I wrote:
Close, but it's actually 763 NW Crazytown Cir., Ghettosweatyheatwaveland, FL 33127
J wrote:
Is that anywhere close to 2100 Leavemethefalone St., Getthefrickoutofmywayyoufatsmellydude, Washington DC 20037?
K wrote:
oh man, that's so close to my 1810 N. Canibuyacigaretteoffya Street, NW Apt. screaminghusbandnextdoorbump&grindmusicdownstairs, Washington, DC 20002
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love those girls. I really do. I get to see them a week from today and I am so happy about that my face might crack from smiling so much! It's been way too long since I've seen them and I might hug them so hard they pop. I'm going to try not to, though. Love shouldn't hurt. *snarf*

It's a Secret

This made me think about the things I keep locked away in dark secret places. Some are funny, some are sad, some make you think about things you thought you'd forgotten. postsecret.blogspot.com

82 Bits & Baubles

1) Sometimes when the rain comes down really hard and in buckets I wish for a brief moment that it will wash me away and all the dirt and grime associated with my life will get washed away with me.
2) My friends are incredibly strong in their own ways.
3) Most of them have experienced a tragedy.
4) Tragedy has made me a stronger, yet weaker person. The only way that makes sense is if you feel the same way.
5) Laughter is contagious and best when it's also uncontrollable.
6) I think that when Duke burps it's really funny and it makes me giggle.
7) I think that when I burp it's usually really gross and I don't giggle at all, unless it's one of those sneak attack burps that come from nowhere without warning and alarm everyone within earshot, including myself.
8) I like clothes. Sometimes I like clothes more than I like people.
9) When I'm on the beach and the water laps over the sand and the palm trees sway in the breeze I forget that I'm broke and not where I want to be in my life. That doesn't refer to location, per se. More like a reference to accomplishment.
10) I don't think I'll ever be satisfied with myself and I don't think that's a bad thing.
11) I love the way Duke looks when he's sleeping all curled up on the floor.
12) I hate the way the house smells when Duke has an accident and craps on the floor.
13) I'm a terrible tennis player, but it's a lot of fun for me to get out on the court and try to smack that ball around with the man.
14) The man is a great coach - he can explain things in a way that makes complete sense to me like very few people ever have. And he never makes me feel like I can't do it. (even when I'm really quite pathetic)
15) Pizza is very tasty.
16) Cheese makes me sick, but I love to eat it.
17) Without email I'd be terrible at keeping in touch. I don't know if that's a sign of laziness or my unwillingness to part with instant gratification.
18) I used to think that the term "online community" was ridiculous. Now I value my online friends.
19) Anderson Cooper is the hottest thing in broadcast news.
20) I find tattoos intriguing - even more intriguing when they're on someone you wouldn't expect them to be, or in places that surprise you.
21) I can't wait to get my next one. It might be coming soon to a small screen near you.
22) I'm looking forward to K's wedding more than I ever looked forward to my own. Thank God I didn't have it.
23) The thought of having kids at once repulses me and draws me in. The thought of it is nice, but the reality of it is nothing I want to fathom right now and I don't know if it ever will be. I'd love to have a family and put down some roots, but I can barely take care of myself. Maybe it's a confidence thing, I'm not sure.
24) Know-it-alls irritate me and yet I know that I come across that way sometimes. I guess I irritate myself sometimes.
25) I'm totally a leg woman. Legs are some of my favorite body parts. Not my own, but other peoples' are great.
26) Maybe the best thing about Miami - Cuban toast and cafe con leche. If I could eat that every day for breakfast I would.
27) If I could eat that every day for breakfast and still lose the 10 lbs. I want to shed I'd be beside myself with joy.
28) Losing these last 10 lbs. has been very hard - even harder because my eating habits have been for shit the last 3 months and although I know damn well it's terrible, I keep doing it.
29) I'm a professional self-saboteur.
30) I wish that wasn't the case.
31) I really admire K's determination. I wish I had a little more of that.
32) The man is the first person to ever touch me in ways both intellectual and physical that are equally thrilling.
33) It shames me, but sometimes when I see other peoples' success it makes me hate them a little and hate myself even more. I don't like that about myself.
34) I have pretty cute feet when they're not all dry from walking around in flip flops every day.
35) Most days I don't like my freckles, but today I think they're so "me" that I'd be less "me" without them.
36) I'm fiercely protective of people I love.
37) Fresh peaches and vanilla ice cream is one of the best summer time treats, and I haven't had it once this summer.
38) The sight of roosters in our neighborhood makes me laugh.
39) The sight of broken down cars sitting in front of peoples' houses in our neighborhood makes me sad and a little angry.
40) I don't like the fact that 2 streets away there are curbs, but our street has none. It's shocking how much more put-together a street looks with curbs. I want some damn curbs.
41) I wish I was in better shape, but I'm not doing much to get there.
42) It makes me feel bad because I want the man to have a hot me and not a soft, weakling me.
43) My fashion show terrifies me.
44) Wearing heels makes me feel sexy.
45) Swedish Fish are my favorite candy.
46) I wish I were really skilled at a few things and not pretty good at a lot. It's harder that way. Jack of all trades...
47) Politicians generally disgust me. Living in DC for 8 years opened my eyes to the amount of real work that gets done there - it's not much.
48) I miss New York a lot. I don't know that I'd be OK with living there again right now, though. Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Not really, absence makes the difficulty of a place fade and the high points shine like diamonds.
49) I sometimes question the move I made to Miami. But every time I see the man walk through the front door the question is silenced and I have my answer.
50) I feel like an idiot when I think of the real problems going on in the world after a hearty session of stressing out over my fashion show. Suck it up, blondie, and do your thing. Almost like I owe it to the world because I'm in a position to be able to pull it off. Not everyone has this kind of opportunity. I'm broke and behind in my bills, but I'm still better off than people who lost home and loved ones from Katrina.
51) I'd like to not feel quite as absurd when I say I'm a graphic designer. That's what I do for a living, but it's such low-level stuff that it barely qualifies. Some days I think a chimp could do my job... and with more flair.
52) I no longer feel comfortable defending President Bush. I still respect the office, but I've held out as long as I can with respect for him as a person. It's all gone. I tried.
53) I don't like people playing the race card. I think it's a cop-out. Take action and try to be a change agent. I think that's the only way. The more hot breath you waste the less energy you have to lend a kind word.
54) I really like Angelina Jolie. She's a wacko, but I think she's a good hearted wacko and I like her.
55) I think I have an internet addiction. I see no need to remedy that.
56) I don't like liking gossip, but I do.
57) I believe that people in the public eye don't give the general population enough credit. The "dumbing down" of society is something that only happens in pockets.
58) I can't stand the veins on the backs of my thighs. I'm 28 and I have veins that show all the time. It grosses me out.
59) I don't mind my crows feet. I have these little wrinkles around my eyes that show where I've been.
60) I'm completely OK with knowing I'm smart. I didn't used to be.
61) I get very angry when I see women acting less intelligent than they are because they think it will benefit them.
62) I get even angrier when it works.
63) Wars and fights and hatred based on religion disgust me.
64) I wish The Far Side and Calvin & Hobbs never would have stopped running.
65) Dave Barry used to make me laugh every Sunday with his columns. Now he's taking some much needed time off and I take it personally.
66) Mental health medications make me nervous.
67) My country's propensity toward medicating for every last little thing makes me even more nervous.
68) My country's tendency to be fat scares me and embarrasses me.
69) I wish my passport had even one stamp in it.
70) I know I really need a car, but I really don't like the thought of paying for one. I've come to grips with the fact that we've had the Jeep for a month now and we still don't have the title. Even if it comes soon the car isn't as sound as we had thought.
71) Martha Stewart sometimes inspires me and sometimes makes me ill. Lately it's been the latter.
72) The couple found yesterday in Ohio who kept 8 children in cages at their home should be kept in cages in their jail cells.
73) I wish I were more honest with myself more often. For the good and the bad.
74) I really don't like spyware.
75) It would be great if Miami had more accessible great food. New York spoiled me.
76) I would be more content if I could follow through with one idea and finish out the concept before bolting off to the next thing. I think I'd feel more settled and accomplished.
77) It would be great if I could have half the big ideas that come out of the man's head. His brain is unbelievable.
78) Sometimes I wish I didn't look like me. But I can never decide on what I'd like to look like if I could choose. Guess that means be happy with what I have.
79) J told be a story today about how she mixed up two thoughts and ended up saying something really funny - I do that all the time. I flip the first letters of words or combine 2 sentences and come out with some absurd sentence.
80) I like seeing people who break fashion rules - red with pink and brown with black, patterns with stripes.
81) Finding out that a friend isn't who you thought they were is tough. I try to be as much me as I can.
82) The cost of plane tickets makes me sad. I'd see my family and friends a whole lot more often if it weren't so damn high.

Crafted Distraction

Since I'm sitting here at work unable to do any real work because of the ridiculous spyware that has hijacked my machine, I'm going to waste time and blog a little. I'm waiting for the IT tech to come and fix whatever he screwed up on this computer yesterday. I know he didn't mean to mess it up, but he sure did a bang up job of it. Yesterday before he came I had loads of spyware that made my machine run about as fast as a snail with a limp. Now, I have loads of spyware, a limping snail-like computer, and I've lost the ability to convert files to pdfs (which is a crucial function of my job). So, I wait. I wait for him to come up here and ask me what I did to make the machine go on strike. Mmm hmm.

Yesterday afternoon I asked K & J for funny things to make me laugh because I was about to fall asleep, undoubtedly with my face on my keyboard and I wasn't sure if drool on a keyboard can electrocute, and I didn't want to find out. K told us this funny story about her brother. When he was about 3 he was a little confused about Halloween and Christmas being holidays. I guess it's understandable - they're kinda close to each other and well, he was 3 years old. Santa Claus wears a costume, right? And Halloween can be a little scary, right? Well... K's brother was convinced that Santa's purpose was to come down the chimney and slit your throat. I love it.

K's story is pretty funny, too. She used to think that God died in her grandma's trailer. Her mom was trying to tell K about Jesus on the crucifix in Grandma's trailer, and well, what K took from it was "God died in Grandma's trailer". Priceless.

Not nearly as funny "haha", poor J now has a gash on her face from her brand spanking new engagement ring. She was horsing around with her bro and she gave herself a bloody reminder of her impending marriage. Who am I to say "horsing around"? Wow, that made me feel like my dad. Anyway, nice to know that her ring is substantial enough to draw blood. That's love. "Honey, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Here, have this weapon and wear it on your finger."

P.S. The confirmation hearing for John Roberts is excessively boring. It doesn't have to be, but pompous senators going on and on about mundane details of memos written 20 years ago is only interesting for so long. Political blowhards have a short shelf life with me. Grown men talking over each other and being disrespectful makes my skin crawl. It's like, "Shut up, you asshats, and do some real work." Sheesh.

This is my neighborhood, too

Yesterday I decided to stop at the Family Dollar on the way from the train to the house after work. If you aren't familiar with the wonders of Family Dollar, you really should be. They have mostly all brand-name stuff, but it's made especially for Family Dollar and it costs about 2 bucks. You can get Glad trash bags that have a Family Dollar logo printed on the corner of the box for $2 because Glad packages them just for the chain that way. Last night I needed to get dish detergent and paper towels, which means that I walked out of there with those 2 items plus rubber gloves, a scrubby sponge, a travel mug (who can't use another travel mug... and for $1??), Arm & Hammer room deodorizer (Duke, God bless him, is a smelly dog. An hour after he gets a bath he smells like a dog again), shampoo, and Thousand Flushes bleach tablets for the toilet tank. My grand total? $15. Amazing.

I digress... I went to Family Dollar and the experience was a very mixed one. It was great to get so much stuff for the house and for so little money, but it was very disturbing due to the racist slur spewed at me by the customer in line behind me. He was terrible. He kept saying things like, "Goddamn, she's so slow!" about the cashier, loud enough for her to hear. He interrupted her while she was ringing up the woman in front of me with, "Hey. Hey! Yo, hey! How much dis is? Chree dollahs?". For those of you who don't speak Idiot - that means he wanted to know if the bottle of laundry detergent he was waving over my head disturbingly close to my face cost three dollars. He continued to be annoying and rude, which made the security guard standing at the door take notice of him.

Having gone in for only 2 items, I didn't grab a basket to hold my purchases on the way in. So, my arms were full of things I hadn't planned on buying, and I was patiently waiting for the woman in front of me to finish with her purchase so I could set all my stuff down on the counter. She finished, I stepped forward to unburden my arms and the idiot pushed me out of the way from behind and knocked some things out of my grasp that went falling to the floor. Simply to set down the detergent I had become all too familiar with a minute earlier. I said, "Excuse me?" in a rather irritated tone because I had just been jolted off balance, and he yelled, "Fuck you, white bitch!".

At which point, said security guard came over and kicked him out of the store. He said, "You don't talk like that in here, man! Don't you speak to her that way!". It was great. In my shock at the situation, I didn't really react. I just sort of stood there like a deer in the headlights. The customers around me must have seen that I was at a loss for words because they all said various things like, "Baby, don't you worry none. He just a asshole." and, "Pay him no mind, chile, he gots ta have some respeck." I actually felt like I belonged at that moment. Felt like the idiot was the outsider and I was the one who people stood up for. It was strangely comforting.

Then, while I was walking down my street I said hello to a man who was in his front yard and he smiled and said hello and asked me how I was doing. He seemed genuinely friendly. I keep getting signs that our neighborhood isn't as bad as it seems.

Bring on the Big D

Today is a great day. Today is the kind of day that makes you sigh with relief and jump for joy and thank your lucky stars, kiss babies and climb trees smack your boyfriend's ass. Today marks the official end of my best friend's first marriage. It's been over for 2 years now, just not according to the Commonwealth of Virgina (what the hell is a commonwealth, anyway?) It was a bad one. It wasn't always bad, but it was bad more than it was good and her ex isn't the kind of guy who puts forth any effort to work on things. She tried, he failed her, she tried again, he failed her, she tried countless times doing everything she should have and he failed her, he failed her, he failed her. And now he's out of the picture. He has no more reason to stress her out. His days of busting in and casting a dark pall over her happy days are over.

She's found a new man. A real man. He's Canadian, but we try not to hold that against him. He treats her the way she should be treated, he adores her, and he wants her to be herself. I love seeing the way he looks at her even when he's being goofy and gross and telling stupid jokes. He always loves her. He loves her when he's irritated with her. He loves her when she's cranky. He loves her when she's too tired to take the dogs out. He loves her when they're both happy and when one of them is in a piss-poor mood. He know's she's wicked smart and he loves that about her. That's the way it should be. It's awesome. And luckily for her ex, everything is on track for a wonderful wedding in a couple weeks. I say lucky for her ex because if he would have done one more dumbass thing to delay this final paperwork I would have fed him to the gators. No questions asked and no looking back. I wouldn't have even felt bad about it. (I really, really, really dislike him. I mean it. I really do.)

So, congratulations are in order for the newly divorced and soon to be married K-Dawg. She's wonderful and I love her dearly. She's like family and she deserves to be as happy as possible.

More congratulations are in order for friends in VA... Jess is engaged! Her beau (whoa, who am I using words like beau?) popped the question and she made him a very happy man by saying yes. I can't wait for next July! They have a great story and it's only going to get better. Maxie's engaged, too. He took his girl to a mountain top and he said the day was perfect. Things are working out all over the place. That's what I like to see.

And OH - If you're in New York or you will be soon you should go see this play because it's great and my dear friend, MT, is in it and he's fabulous. click me! And - there's nudity. How can you go wrong?

Birthday Weekend Made Me Feel Old and Tired

I ended up working all 3 days of the long holiday/birthday weekend at my part time job. It wasn't the ideal situation in terms of time management and birthday happenings (I would have liked to have spent more time with the man - he's awfully good looking and he makes me giggle, which means he's great company), but it was a sound financial decision that I'm glad I made. I'm just pooped now. I'm so drained all I can do to keep my eyes open long enough to type a quick snippet is to think about the raucous wake-up call I got this morning. Should your imagination choose to run wild with the possibilities of what that wake-up may or may not have entailed... I think you should let it. har har

The man and I got home not too long ago. I worked until 4, he picked me up, we loaded up the car with laundry (tres sexy, no?), stopped off at the new Israeli sammich place (it was pretty tasty and the guy working the kitchen used to live in Brighton Beach - big ups Brooklyn!), headed up to Hollywood to go to the fabric store (we tried to go yesterday - that's what I wanted for my birthday, a backrub and a trip to the fabric store - I shit you not) but we got there with only 10 minutes to browse before they closed. Commie bastards. Anyway, we got there today with time to spare and it was lovely. Then we spent 2 & 1/2 hours at a laundromat and now we're home. It's amazing how much washing and folding clothes can tire me out - I love clothes, probably more than anyone I know, but tonight I don't want anything more to do with them. *yawn*

Must drag my fat ass to bed right quick.

Oh! My day was made even nicer because my friend Liz called me and she made me laugh and told me happy birthday and I just love her. She's moving away from New York very soon and it's almost like I'll miss her more because I'll know she's not stopping by my house and hanging out with my girls at the Clara. *hmm* I love Liz. I hope one day she can love New York again. It's hard for all of us, really.

Shameless plugs & a bit of advice

I'm off to the very exclusive salon where I get my color and cut done (a.k.a. my bathroom) for a bit of a trim and a color in a few minutes. My roots are dull and lifeless and my mop could use some pruning. Man, should have said bush, but didn't want to be dirty... bush, needs pruning. That's damn funny. haHA Anywho/way/how... the man and I went to Target tonight (Target rocks, I love Target - especially since whoever the lowlife was who stole my check card last month spent $800 of my hard-earned money at Wal-Mart and when I called them to inquire with their Loss Prevention department they put me on hold 5 times and cut me off 3 times. Wal-Mart can kiss my ass) and got the essentials... mac & cheese, razor blades, bleach, dog food, hair color, you know - all the necessities. It was a little pre-birthday celebration. That might sound a bit retarded to those of you who don't know me personally, but my birthday makes me happy and Target makes me happy and the combination of the two in close proximity makes me giddy and smiley and bubbly. Dumb? Perhaps. Overly dramatic? Of course, this is me we're talking about here. C'mon now.

I worked my part-time job today for 6 hours or so and then we made our way up north a smidge to head to Target (I hope as you're reading this you're mentally pronouncing it the yuppie, French wannabe way - "tar-zhay"). The man decided to take me on a detour to a place he thought could do me some good. After living for 6 weeks in Miami and not shopping other than grocery runs and the occasional jaunt to one of the many dollar stores around here, he figured some mall time might be just what the doctor ordered. He said that I needed a little bit of time to be surrounded by fashion and taste (not necessarily good taste...) and style. It was the most thoughtful thing. He hit the nail on the head. It was lovely. I even found (OK, that's a lie, the man found it for me... if it weren't for him my wardrobe would be pathetic) a great little jacket for - get this - $9. Yep, $9. And it's cute! And I can wear it to work! Saw a lot of horrid polyester nothingness, but that's to be expected. It was great to be in the midst of pure capitalism at work. And, this might sound awful, but know where I'm coming from when I say it... it was nice to see another person who looks like me besides the man. I'm not used to being a minority. No, wait, scratch that. I'm not used to everyone around me making sure I know that I'm the minority.

After the mall we stopped for pizza at Steve's Pizza. If you happen to be on Biscayne Blvd. and you see Steve's Pizza you should stop and eat there. Run people over to get there if you have to, the pizza is like crack. It's so damn good I almost creamed my jeans. (yeah, I said that) It is true New York pizza, like it's straight outta Brooklyn. Fugheddabowdit. Oh wow, was it amazingly tasty. It made me feel a little closer to the Big Apple and that felt great. Steve's Pizza - eat it, love it. Work, mall, pizza, Tar-zhay... Fabulous day.

Here's the advice, take it from someone who knows, ladies and gents... if you're considering coloring your own hair please, under no circumstances, use anything other than L'Oreal hair color. I've been doing this for 15 years now (dang!) and everything else is crap. Revlon fries your hair into straw-like gnarls of ugliness, Garnier fades a week after you color, Herbal Essences doesn't even cover roots. L'Oreal is the way to go, trust me. Just a little public service announcement. There's a lot of bad hair out there, I'm just trying to do my part.

Good Advice

The Washington Post has an advice columnist who I happen to think it the bomb-diggedy of all advice columnists (that is, until you start writing yours, K). Her name is Carolyn Hax and she's smart and funny and caring and sarcastic as hell when people are obviously idiots. I love it. She wrote something in her interactive chat today that summed up exactly what I think a lot of us need to hear these days:

Reality Check?: Do you ever feel that some of the "problems" that people write to you about are trivial and non-issues, especially considering the real tragedy that other people are facing? I would want to bang my head on the wall if I kept getting questions about frivolous boyfriend/girlfriend/job/best friend/parent etc. problems, knowing that thousands of people have just lost their homes, loved ones, jobs, livelihood within the last week.

Carolyn Hax: Today (and those other days I mentioned)*she referred to 9/11, the Beslan school massacre and other horrific events earlier in the chat* may stand out, but there is real pain in progress every minute of every day. Kids get neglected, breadwinners lose jobs, terminal illnesses get diagnosed, cars crash. To lose sight of this truth is to live in a superficial little bubble, deserving of contempt.

But to live as if there is no other truth isn't the answer, either. Sometimes a hangnail can be really painful. Sometimes getting dumped or saying the wrong thing or being denied a promotion can dull your awareness of just about everything else for a while, without your being a self-absorbed freak. Sometimes you can laugh yourself (nearly) incontinent over the dumbest movie ever made, and you don't have to apologize for it. You are under no obligation to remind yourself every 15 minutes that someone is suffering while you amuse yourself.

There is room for a broad range of experience, and many degrees of pain. As long as you aren't causing someone pain for your own puny reasons, or, like I said above, not living in a nothing-matters-but-my-wedding-flowers bubble, your problems are wecome here.

Party like it's yo berfday

That's my plan. Well, not really. More like clean the house, work my part-time job, do laundry, and go get dinner at the little Israeli sandwich shop that opened recently not too far from the house (if you've never had an Israeli steak sammich, you should run out and get one right now, they're pretty tasty). Not so much of a party as a regular weekend that happens to have my birthday in it. No big deal. 28 isn't a landmark age anyway. Besides, last year and the year before I had fantastic birthdays. I think last year takes the cake (mmm... cake). K planned a sushi/karaoke party that was a total surprise in DC and the man made me a shirt that had my face superimposed on this cheerleader's silhouette with a big "Happy 27th Birthday" across it. Then, they both kidnapped me and drove me to New York for the weekend. It was amazing. We had the best time. The year before that K took me skydiving. Talk about your awesome presents. Wow. Wowzers.

This year is low key. I'm going to do all of the above mentioned things and work on the table runners for K's wedding. They're going to be very pretty. Simple and clean and a nice touch for the room. I can't wait for her wedding. I'm thrilled to bits for that little girl.

It's Friday. That's a good thing. Sunday is my birthday. That's a good thing. Martha Stewart is done with house arrest. That's a good... nah wait, I don't give a shit about Martha Stewart.

I'm still stressed out about my state of financial destitution and the fact that there are holes in our house from the hurricane and that there are people dying all over the gulf coast that I have no way to help and that I'm feeling wicked fat lately, but I'm trying to put those things on the back burner and enjoy my weekend. Heartless? I hope not.

Vote for Pedro

Crabby

I want to write something funny and entertaining, but I just walked home in the pouring rain with no umbrella (Stupid? Yes.) and I'm too crabby to put forth the effort. Perhaps I'll snap out of it soon and write a bit later.

Quick and chubby

The computer is running extreeeeeemely slowly and I have to go catch the bus to work. I hope I'll get the chance to write more later.

I'm feeling large & in charge today. Not sure why, it's probably because I've been eating crappy food and not exercising, but man on man do I feel fat.

MT - you made my day. I'm so glad you emailed. :)