For lack of something interesting to say here is a meme. I would like to tag…..Aimee, Nicole, and, oh hell everyone who reads this…you have exactly 3.2 seconds to fill this out and repost it under the subject “Wouldn’t you like to know”. If you ignore this you will be doomed to 75 years of bad luck.
EDIT: This is totally true you guys. I know a girl who is second cousins twice removed who goes to school with a girl who didn’t fill this out and she got a parking ticket at the mall.
(I’ll send the first person who points out that this is not Myspace a cookie, really, I will, point it out, see what happens)
1.ARE YOU SHY?
nope. I’m the life of the party, every party.
2. ARE YOU A LOVER OR A FIGHTER?
Fighter. Don’t piss off a Virgo. We don’t just get mad, we get revenge. Revenge, in a detailed oriented, type A, sort of way.
3. WHAT'S YOUR WORST FEAR?
Making another Virgo angry.
4. AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO MANIAC?
No….there was this thing called outside when I was little. Backyards and Legos did not mix. My sister and I would loose them in the grass. My father would run them over with the lawn mower and send them flying like brightly colored rectangular bebes.
5. DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS?
No, I chew on other people’s straws.
6. WHAT COLOR IS YOUR KEYBOARD?
Pink with glitter…..prove me wrong….see, you can’t and do you know why? Cause who cares…..why is this a question? Ask me what color my underwear is, or what color I wish my underwear was. In which case purple and red. See how that was more entertaining.
7. HAVE YOU EVER BUNGEE JUMPED?
no, but I have swallowed glass. That sounds like just as much fun, right?
8. ANY SECRET TALENTS?
I am completely talentless secret or otherwise.
9. WHAT'S YOUR IDEAL VACATION SPOT?
Anywhere that serves cheap drinks. 10. BAD HABITS? I twirl my hair. I constantly get my finger tangled in a knot then I have to cut myself free. Bet you don’t know many people who can get stuck in their own hair. Does that count as a secret talent?
11. CAN YOU SWIM?
like a rock.
12. HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DONNIE DARKO?
Yep….I will never look at rabbits the same way again.
13. DO YOU GIVE A DANG ABOUT THE OZONE?
Nope. I plan to deplete that and any other natural resource I can. I don’t recycle either. I figure it gives the homeless guys who fish thru my apartment’s dumpster something to do.
14. CAN YOU MACARENA?
Yes, I can also “Do my little turn on the catwalk, yeah , on the cat walk.” Please feel free to insert any other reference to a dance made famous by a crappy song (for instance…. the Bump and Grind, the Tootsie Roll, or the Local Motion)
15. ARE YOU AN ONLY CHILD?
I’m the favorite…..does that count?
16. WHAT'S YOUR STAND ON HUNTING?
Hunting for what? Like hunting for the perfect little black dress, or a pair of jeans that don’t make my ass look like the side of a barn. That is the kind of hunting that I enjoy. Hunting animals. I could care less about. Shoot em, eat em, skin, em, mount em on your wall. Whatever, as long as I am not expected to hang out in a deer blind.
17. WHAT ARE YOU TO ANYTHING?
Well I am “that bitch” to several people on the freeway……
18. IS ELVIS STILL ALIVE?
Probably. He had to stage his death to get away from his batshit crazy wife and daughter.
19. HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?
unfertilized.
20. ARE BLONDES DUMB? Uh….no. Everyone knows that your intelligence is not based on your hair color. It is dependent on your bra size….duh.
21. IS MCDONALD'S DISGUSTING?
If by “disgusting” you mean magically delicious, then yes.
22. ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK?
YES! Especially when a closet door is open…..something could emerge from there!
23. WHAT ARE YOU ADDICTED TO?
black tar heroin….or Starbucks…..whatever, same difference.
24. HAVE YOU EVER RIDDEN IN AN AMBULANCE?
I’ve been ridden in an Ambulance. J/K I would never…..really I am kidding and not just because I know my mom reads this.
25. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES?
Green.
26. ARE YOU PSYCHIC?
I knew you were going to ask that question.
27. HAVE YOU READ "CATCHER IN THE RYE"?
yes, and I wish Holden would have saved us two hundred and something pages and just jumped off a bridge. I HATED it. Why do people what to read about a guy with undiagnosed depression? And then argue that it is this life altering great American novel. That is why we have therapy and lots and lots of prescription meds (for Holden not the idiots that liked the book ( and if you fall into that idiot category all emails can be sent to kiss_my_ass_sucker@yahoo.com)).
28. DO YOU PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS?
Finger castanets are my forte. I can also play the tambourine in a pinch.
29. HAVE YOU EVER STOLEN FOOD?
This was not one of my prouder moments….but I was broke as hell and the office bought us pizza for lunch one afternoon. So I stayed late that night and went to the break room and took enough of the leftovers to eat on for the following couple of days. ::before anyone can say it…Yes I know that it would not hurt me to skip a few meals::
30. CAN YOU SNOWBOARD?
Snow is not my friend. Spend nine hours stuck on Donor Summit, after a spin out, late for a sorority meeting, after 72 hours of drunken antics, and see if you ever want to look at snow again.
31. YOU BELIEVE IN DIVORCE?
Yes, but only in certain situations. I think that if you have your spouses name tattooed on your body then you should stick t out through thick and thin. A tattoo is a level of commitment greater than being in a church in front of God and all your friends and family. Just ask Pam and Tommy….no wait…..how about Billy Bob and Angelina…okay no…..damn it. So I guess my answer is no.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Who else was hoping OJ was the father?
Yeah I'm tacky.
Sorry for my lack of update, but my allergies have been playing havoc on every aspect of my life. I can barely make it up my stairs without passing out from lack of oxygen. At first I thought it was due to the air being so thin on the second floor. I was positive I was getting altitude sickness just like all those people who climb Mt. Everest. The only difference being that I was never assigned a sherpa to haul my groceries from the car. But someone kindly pointed out that Sacramento is in a Valley and that I'm really dramatic (the nerve).
The only remotely interesting thing that has happened in the last few days is that I think my boyfriend tried to kill me Monday evening. I was two seconds away form calling the cops and filing attempted murder charges. But at the last second I opted against it. Mostly I deserved it. I should have listened.
Here is how it all started:
Late last week I stepped on a scale and feinted from shock. Something had to be done! Starting on Monday (I knew that I would want a hamburger at the Elephant Bar on Friday).
The first sign of trouble:
Steve had the brilliant idea that we go for a walk on the river. I was down with that, its pretty outdoors and the weather was nice.
This is where it all went to crap:
His definition of "walk" turned out to be much different than mine. While I stand by the Webster's version "intransitive verb to move or travel on legs and feet, alternately putting one foot a comfortable distance in front of, or sometimes behind, the other and usually proceeding at a moderate pace. " Steve on the other hand thinks that walking means that you must move like your hair is on fire.
Anyone interested in a free trip to HELL IN AN HAND BASKET ?(I have no clue what that phrase actually means, I just like saying it):
I was meandering down our dirt path observing flowers, and being one with nature, while he was wildly tromping through bushes and moving at a pace that I would not hesitate to call a full on sprint. Steve would run/walk up the trail and turn around and run/walk back my direction only to find me tying my shoes or stretching my calves. All the while telling me that I am doing a good job and to just try to run/walk to that sign post up there. "Look its not the far. You can do it. Come on." (The bastard! How dare he encourage me at a time like that.)
The saga continues:
So, I would run/walk for a bit to make him happy. Only that was not enough. He would push me to run more and then a little more. I was huffing and puffing like crazy. At the same time I was quietly in my most polite way telling him that I was ever so slightly uncomfortable(by quiet and polite I mean yelling and throwing myself on the ground)(and by slightly uncomfortable I mean my legs were about to fall off and my heart was about to shoot through my rib cage).
A break in the torture:
Just when I thought I could handle no more, I saw Aimee coming up the trail. She was like an apparition rimmed in light from the heavens. I thought to myself "Sweet Jesus, I can stop. I'll have a moment of rest. Maybe my heart will stop, oh how I welcome the peace and quite of death." Much to Steve's dismay my heart continued pumping and after our short visit with Aimee where I know I tried to signal for help. (Who could not recognize an SOS tapped out by blinking my eyes? Apparently Aimee is a little rusty on her mores code. And asking what is wrong with my eyes did not help the situation.)
I see the light:
Somehow I manage to make it back to my car. I have no recollection of anything after my chat with Aimee, but the next thing I know I come to and I'm driving the car home. Weird.
All I can say is that was probably the worst 15 minutes of my life. Even worse than the time I thought I forgot to record LOST.
Sorry for my lack of update, but my allergies have been playing havoc on every aspect of my life. I can barely make it up my stairs without passing out from lack of oxygen. At first I thought it was due to the air being so thin on the second floor. I was positive I was getting altitude sickness just like all those people who climb Mt. Everest. The only difference being that I was never assigned a sherpa to haul my groceries from the car. But someone kindly pointed out that Sacramento is in a Valley and that I'm really dramatic (the nerve).
The only remotely interesting thing that has happened in the last few days is that I think my boyfriend tried to kill me Monday evening. I was two seconds away form calling the cops and filing attempted murder charges. But at the last second I opted against it. Mostly I deserved it. I should have listened.
Here is how it all started:
Late last week I stepped on a scale and feinted from shock. Something had to be done! Starting on Monday (I knew that I would want a hamburger at the Elephant Bar on Friday).
The first sign of trouble:
Steve had the brilliant idea that we go for a walk on the river. I was down with that, its pretty outdoors and the weather was nice.
This is where it all went to crap:
His definition of "walk" turned out to be much different than mine. While I stand by the Webster's version "intransitive verb to move or travel on legs and feet, alternately putting one foot a comfortable distance in front of, or sometimes behind, the other and usually proceeding at a moderate pace. " Steve on the other hand thinks that walking means that you must move like your hair is on fire.
Anyone interested in a free trip to HELL IN AN HAND BASKET ?(I have no clue what that phrase actually means, I just like saying it):
I was meandering down our dirt path observing flowers, and being one with nature, while he was wildly tromping through bushes and moving at a pace that I would not hesitate to call a full on sprint. Steve would run/walk up the trail and turn around and run/walk back my direction only to find me tying my shoes or stretching my calves. All the while telling me that I am doing a good job and to just try to run/walk to that sign post up there. "Look its not the far. You can do it. Come on." (The bastard! How dare he encourage me at a time like that.)
The saga continues:
So, I would run/walk for a bit to make him happy. Only that was not enough. He would push me to run more and then a little more. I was huffing and puffing like crazy. At the same time I was quietly in my most polite way telling him that I was ever so slightly uncomfortable(by quiet and polite I mean yelling and throwing myself on the ground)(and by slightly uncomfortable I mean my legs were about to fall off and my heart was about to shoot through my rib cage).
A break in the torture:
Just when I thought I could handle no more, I saw Aimee coming up the trail. She was like an apparition rimmed in light from the heavens. I thought to myself "Sweet Jesus, I can stop. I'll have a moment of rest. Maybe my heart will stop, oh how I welcome the peace and quite of death." Much to Steve's dismay my heart continued pumping and after our short visit with Aimee where I know I tried to signal for help. (Who could not recognize an SOS tapped out by blinking my eyes? Apparently Aimee is a little rusty on her mores code. And asking what is wrong with my eyes did not help the situation.)
I see the light:
Somehow I manage to make it back to my car. I have no recollection of anything after my chat with Aimee, but the next thing I know I come to and I'm driving the car home. Weird.
All I can say is that was probably the worst 15 minutes of my life. Even worse than the time I thought I forgot to record LOST.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Good Friday
I get to leave at noon today! Woot! So thrilled. My mom and sisters (Ellen and Elaine) are coming to Sacramento for a day of shopping.
I was forced to go to bed early last night due to the fact that my allergies were AWFUL. I could not even watch television because of the incessant sneezing. It was that bad. I scared the crap out of the cat. She hid under the bed all evening. I guess the site of your mother's head about to explode is a bit unsettling to her. ::shrug::
In an effort to impress my family with my newly adopted cat (they have not had the pleasure to make her acquaintance), I made her a bandanna to wear for when they arrive.(pictures to follow on Monday) The bandanna is a compromise we reached since she is being stubborn about wearing the shirt I bought her (more pictures to follow if she does not claw my eyes out). She is a patient cat but I guess she draws the line at me treating her like a purse dog.
This morning I woke up early so that could straighten my house. I had a limited time span to get my house in shape for visitors and get ready for work so I took a diet pill for energy. One of my old school diet pills with Ephedra. You know the legal form of CRACK! It had been months, maybe years since I had popped one of those puppies. I tell you, I am wired for sound. 20 minutes after ingesting the little red pill the chemical high rolled over me like a Mack Truck. I was a total of blur wielding a broom and Febreeze. This too scared the cat (I believe she thinks I am CrAzY and is plotting her escape). I will most likely go into cardiac arrest if my heart rate does not return to normal soon, but hey at least if I die my place is spic and span, and I am wearing clean underwear. Lets all cross our fingers that the paramedics are cute. What? I know I have a boyfriend but come on, if you have to get mouth to mouth you know you would want it to be from the hot guy in an EMT shirt.....don't lie.
EDIT: I want Steve and only Steve to be the one to perform mouth to mouth and I will wear one of those medical alert bracelets stating that fact. I am a selfish inconsiderate woman who needs to come out of my crack induced haze before posting blogs.
I was forced to go to bed early last night due to the fact that my allergies were AWFUL. I could not even watch television because of the incessant sneezing. It was that bad. I scared the crap out of the cat. She hid under the bed all evening. I guess the site of your mother's head about to explode is a bit unsettling to her. ::shrug::
In an effort to impress my family with my newly adopted cat (they have not had the pleasure to make her acquaintance), I made her a bandanna to wear for when they arrive.(pictures to follow on Monday) The bandanna is a compromise we reached since she is being stubborn about wearing the shirt I bought her (more pictures to follow if she does not claw my eyes out). She is a patient cat but I guess she draws the line at me treating her like a purse dog.
This morning I woke up early so that could straighten my house. I had a limited time span to get my house in shape for visitors and get ready for work so I took a diet pill for energy. One of my old school diet pills with Ephedra. You know the legal form of CRACK! It had been months, maybe years since I had popped one of those puppies. I tell you, I am wired for sound. 20 minutes after ingesting the little red pill the chemical high rolled over me like a Mack Truck. I was a total of blur wielding a broom and Febreeze. This too scared the cat (I believe she thinks I am CrAzY and is plotting her escape). I will most likely go into cardiac arrest if my heart rate does not return to normal soon, but hey at least if I die my place is spic and span, and I am wearing clean underwear. Lets all cross our fingers that the paramedics are cute. What? I know I have a boyfriend but come on, if you have to get mouth to mouth you know you would want it to be from the hot guy in an EMT shirt.....don't lie.
EDIT: I want Steve and only Steve to be the one to perform mouth to mouth and I will wear one of those medical alert bracelets stating that fact. I am a selfish inconsiderate woman who needs to come out of my crack induced haze before posting blogs.
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Now serving up a big ol' slap in the face followed by a swift kick to the shins
For the record I wanted to post this yesterday. I have to post at work because I don't have a computer at home. I know that I am a really sucky employee who should pay my boss for the privilege of walking through the front door every morning. But I digress....I did really plan to post this yesterday but my computer went down. I'm talking like Johnny Cash, Ring of Fire, went down (I think there was even some smoke). I call the IT guy who quickly radioed for back up and the next thing you know nerdy guys were descending from grappling hooks and charging towards my desk. But then I woke up, scratched the sleep from my eyes and waited for the IT guy to finish at the bank and swing by Blockbuster before making his way to me. I was not able to get back online until 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave. So I logged out and left 5 minutes early.
Now for the blogging........
Like I said in my "about me" section I recently adopted a cat from the SPCA. She is a pretty little tabby that I named Ginger. I was thrown into a full blown panic attack when she stopped peeing (I noticed this over a period of about two days, it took that long because apparently there is not a light that comes on or a buzzer that goes off telling me to monitor your cat's urination habits (it would have been nice if some one at the animal shelter explained that to me prior to the adoption, I mean my car has a check engine light (does anyone else think that when the SPCA microchips animals that it should come equipped with a "service needed" notification of some sort? It wouldn't have to make noise or flash but it could generate an email or something)). I darted through my house looking for any "accidents". 3 minutes later having found no evidence of cat pee anywhere. I was convinced that Ginger was sick. She was so ill she could not urinate. I found my yellow pages and was dialing the emergency vet when Ginger pooped. I cocked my head to the side and thought to myself....."Emily, this cat is messing with you. She can pee. She just won't. Did I anger her in some way? She has to be protesting something." So I busied myself combing her and cuddling her. Thinking that maybe if I was nice enough she would pee. Two more days and nothing. I don't care how mad you are. Holding pee for that long has to wear on a soul. So I call the vet on Monday and they fit me in later that afternoon. I trudge into the vet's door holding the carrier with a yowling cat trapped inside and patiently wait Ginger's turn. Ginger on the other hand did not wait patiently. She yowled and flopped around and wheezed and spit. It was very lady like. The counter people where totally giving me the stink eye. The Vet comes in and was very friendly. She rubbed Ginger down and stated " Well her balder is empty, she is pissing in your house. Now please give me $150". That is not exactly what she said but that is how I heard it. At that point I packed Ginger back into her carrier (after much more wheezing, spitting, and clawing) and took her home. Upon entering the apartment I released Ginger. She ran into my bedroom and hid. I sat down and flipped on the television to see what my DVR had recorded for me when Ginger emerges and slinks along the wall to my dining room and PEES right there in front of me.
Slap in the face = Cat pee in my carpet
Swift Kick to the Shins = paying $150 to find that out
EDIT: I have since moved her litter box to her selected location and she is using it like crazy. I can hardly scoop fast enough.
Now for the blogging........
Like I said in my "about me" section I recently adopted a cat from the SPCA. She is a pretty little tabby that I named Ginger. I was thrown into a full blown panic attack when she stopped peeing (I noticed this over a period of about two days, it took that long because apparently there is not a light that comes on or a buzzer that goes off telling me to monitor your cat's urination habits (it would have been nice if some one at the animal shelter explained that to me prior to the adoption, I mean my car has a check engine light (does anyone else think that when the SPCA microchips animals that it should come equipped with a "service needed" notification of some sort? It wouldn't have to make noise or flash but it could generate an email or something)). I darted through my house looking for any "accidents". 3 minutes later having found no evidence of cat pee anywhere. I was convinced that Ginger was sick. She was so ill she could not urinate. I found my yellow pages and was dialing the emergency vet when Ginger pooped. I cocked my head to the side and thought to myself....."Emily, this cat is messing with you. She can pee. She just won't. Did I anger her in some way? She has to be protesting something." So I busied myself combing her and cuddling her. Thinking that maybe if I was nice enough she would pee. Two more days and nothing. I don't care how mad you are. Holding pee for that long has to wear on a soul. So I call the vet on Monday and they fit me in later that afternoon. I trudge into the vet's door holding the carrier with a yowling cat trapped inside and patiently wait Ginger's turn. Ginger on the other hand did not wait patiently. She yowled and flopped around and wheezed and spit. It was very lady like. The counter people where totally giving me the stink eye. The Vet comes in and was very friendly. She rubbed Ginger down and stated " Well her balder is empty, she is pissing in your house. Now please give me $150". That is not exactly what she said but that is how I heard it. At that point I packed Ginger back into her carrier (after much more wheezing, spitting, and clawing) and took her home. Upon entering the apartment I released Ginger. She ran into my bedroom and hid. I sat down and flipped on the television to see what my DVR had recorded for me when Ginger emerges and slinks along the wall to my dining room and PEES right there in front of me.
Slap in the face = Cat pee in my carpet
Swift Kick to the Shins = paying $150 to find that out
EDIT: I have since moved her litter box to her selected location and she is using it like crazy. I can hardly scoop fast enough.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Email Philosophy
Aimee and I had a conversation this morning (via email of course). Regarding dieting and weight. Namely Weight Watchers(WW). Aimee and I started WW together. We went to our first meeting in the beginning of January. I would like to say that it was not a New Years resolution and it was just bad timing, but the truth is that I am lame like that and thought that I should start 2007 off fat and end it skinny. At first I was ready and rearing to go. I was counting points left and right. Drinking so much water I feared my kidneys would shut down. But about three weeks and negative 6 pounds into it I dropped out. Aimee on the other hand has stuck with it and is doing wonderfully (negative 25 pounds and counting). She fell off the wagon this weekend and sent me this email:
"Yeah. I was pretty bad this weekend. ::sigh::
I don’t understand why I don’t just do it. I mean, it works when I do it – so why not follow it? Grrr."
My response was this:
"Because food is so yummy. That is why. I get so tired of always thinking about food and analyzing and keeping track that something snaps and I eat an entire can of frosting."
My response struck a cord, I wrote that meaning to sound sarcastic. But it sparked one of those moments of clarity where the clouds part and the birds sing. That frame of mind is exactly why I have gained 50 pounds over the last 3 years.
I don't want to get deep into my metal well being or lack there of. If I were to write down my thoughts of aforementioned weight gain the seemingly endless rants would leave you (my one reader, Aimee) researching the benefits of snorting Zoloft.
"Yeah. I was pretty bad this weekend. ::sigh::
I don’t understand why I don’t just do it. I mean, it works when I do it – so why not follow it? Grrr."
My response was this:
"Because food is so yummy. That is why. I get so tired of always thinking about food and analyzing and keeping track that something snaps and I eat an entire can of frosting."
My response struck a cord, I wrote that meaning to sound sarcastic. But it sparked one of those moments of clarity where the clouds part and the birds sing. That frame of mind is exactly why I have gained 50 pounds over the last 3 years.
I don't want to get deep into my metal well being or lack there of. If I were to write down my thoughts of aforementioned weight gain the seemingly endless rants would leave you (my one reader, Aimee) researching the benefits of snorting Zoloft.
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