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Archive for the 'Monday' Category

This Is My Life

Monday, March 7th, 2005

Yesterday was a lazy, untroubled Sunday; my favorite kind. We lounged around the house and didn't change out of our nightclothes, and there was a yummy, comforting meal simmering in the crockpot filling the entire house with a delicious aroma.

However, around 6pm I decided that I wanted a Coke. There was no Coca-Cola of any kind in the house, so I decided to venture out and get some. Then I realized there were a few things we needed, and with Baret feeling a bad cold coming on, I knew I should stock up on some Echinacea, zinc and Vitamin C pills and tea. I made a little list, and headed out the door.

As you might imagine, shopping isn't exactly "easy" for me. I do the best I can. I take my time, and rest when my legs demand it. Usually I use the shopping cart for support. The more I do it, the easier it gets and it always makes me feel really good when it's all said and done; to know I can accomplish such things if I push hard enough. However, by time I get home I am aching terribly, am usually flushed and sweating and then have to tackle hauling the groceries in from the car. Life is a barrel of monkeys for the mobiley-impaired, folks, let me tell you.

So after shopping, bringing in and putting up all the groceries I was hurting like hell, but rather proud of myself. The crockpot dinner was ready and I was in the best of spirits until I realized something...there was no Coke.

A look at my receipt shows that, yes, I did pick up and purchase the cola that I had originally made a trek out to the store for, but somehow or another, I failed to take that 12-pack of red cans and place them into my buggy after they were rung up. Because this is my life, and this is how it goes.

Every time I try to do something for myself or by myself, I manage to screw it up royally. Like when I went to the movies, and locked the keys in the car. Or when I went to the doctor's office, and went to the wrong one and locked my keys in the car. Really, I'm not that ditzy!

And to think, I make fun of others' stupidity. I suck.

It's not really stupidity, though. I am not stupid. It's a very healthy dose of Blank's Luck, which I've told you about. (Insert my-last-name for "Blank"). If it can go wrong, it will. If there is a way to screw it up, no matter how obscure or rare a chance it could happen, a Blank will screw it up. Or as my Dad so perfectly phrases it, "Blank's Law is 'Murphy was an optimist'." It's my legacy - I was born into it and there isn't a damn thing that can be done about it except to accept it and go on.

Or go have a cigarette on the patio and throw your lighter at the door so that it smashes into a million pieces all over the ground. That works, too.

Welcome to my world.

When It Rains…

Tuesday, April 13th, 2004

It rained yesterday.

In my house.

Yes, after a particularly shitty and stressful Monday, I came home to a particularly shitty and stressful springtime shower in my own living room.

Really, at that point, I just had to laugh. It didn't bother me - the irony was too great. Baret got home before me and heard gushing water. He ran into the kitchen and looked in the downstairs bathroom - nothing. He hurried to the living room to see great gallons of water gushing forth...from the ceiling fan. My first thought would've been, "We're rich! Our ceiling fan makes water!" Think of the possibilites. Baret, being more mechanically-inclined than myself (and obviously not nearly as optimistic) ran upstairs to find water pouring out of the top of the toliet and onto the already one-and-a-half inch pool of water on the bathroom floor - which had seeped through the floor and was coming out of the ceiling and puddling all around the brand-new carpet and our lovely second-hand couch.

I came home to find the door swung wide open - which was odd, as it was damn cold outside. Then I noticed the couch pushed back far enough that I could see it from the open door. As I hobbled closer, optimistic thought patterns in full swing (or perhaps just my mind trying to deny the obvious), I wondered if he'd pushed the couch back and had laid out a little picnic after-work snack for us on the floor (insert derisive laughter here) - hey, it's a thought. I walked in to see soaked towels all over the floor and water still dripping...from the ceiling fan.

The landlord showed up about 5 mins after I did and promised to come back the next day to fix the toliet. Hobbling downstairs every time I had to pee last nite was a joy I'd not like to repeat. The ceiling fan will most likely have to be replaced and even though Baret spent most of the evening sucking up water with the wet/dry vac we'd rented, we worry about the inevitable mildew smell that will sneak into the brand new carpet (which will probably also buckle as it dries).

And of course, all of this has to happen when it is not only raining outside so we can't open up the house and let the warm Spring air help with the drying process, but when the temperature has dropped and is nearing 38 degrees so we can't open up the house and let the warm Spring air help with the drying process. Nice. 38 degrees in Spring? Only when Shanna and Baret's house is flooded and needs warm air so we can open it all up and save us from mildew stench.

Really, I'm not bothered by it. Work has been stressful enough that I let the little things at home just go on by without much notice. Even when, later, Baret accidentally spilled a glass of water all over my desk, my CDs and paperwork, I just laughed. Water was a prominent element in our home last nite.

So - here's to everyone having a *DRY* evening this time around!

No Beads for Me

Wednesday, February 25th, 2004

So how did I celebrate Mardi Gras? I went to the movies and finally saw "Return of the King". Baret and I then went to a little mexican restaurant next door to the theatre, had two tacos, two beers, went home and passed out. It was a good day.

Today it's back to the grind. It will be strange going into work after so many days off. I start getting the new website ready today, so I'll most likely be working late. It's a huge task, and I'm still trying to come up with the best way to do it.

Not much else has been going on. I was hungover all weekend, as you know. I got screwed on Ebay - it was bound to happen eventually. I really tried to work with the person, but they were kinda nutty - taking everything personally and failing to realize this is a business transaction. Such as:

Me: I'm going to report you if you don't give me proof that you shipped my item.
Them: You're threatening me and calling me dishonest - my mother thinks so, too.

Not exactly like that, but it rounds it up nicely. Yes, she included her mother in just about every email - it was creepy. I tried to be nice and I tried to work with them, but, in the end, I had to leave negative feedback and report them. I ordered the item on Dec. 27 - you can't say I didn't give them time! Dishonesty, and especially just downright being a negative person, irks me so. The entire deal has had me so stressed out. If it were me, and an item I sent someone was supposedly "lost in the mail" - I would do everything I could to rectify it. If I couldn't, I would give them their money back - I sure as hell don't deserve that money, and it's not owed to me if I gave nothing in return. But maybe that's just me. I'll probably be posting about it more because, as I said, it's had me stressed. I hate dealing with conflict, really hate it. I just want everyone to get along.

I found a hilarious quote the other day, which really nailed it home for me on the whole violence in music, TV, games, etc. thing. Jon Stewart said:

"The song 'Cop Killer' doesn't make me want to murder a policeman anymore than Julie Andrews singing 'Climb Ev'ry Mountain' makes me want to go hiking."


I also added this Mark Twain gem to my collection:

"When you find yourself in the majority, it is time to pause and reflect."

I think I may begin starting off each post with a quote from my voluminous collection. I love sharing them.

Well, it's off to work. Pseudo-Monday for me - won't I be pleasantly surprised when Friday rolls around!

Name Day Report

Monday, November 10th, 2003

Now that the birthday madness has come to a close, I have returned to tell you of my adventures.

First, though, a big huge thank-you to everyone that left birthday messages, sent birthday emails and all that jazz. It was very much appreciated.

I honestly thought this birthday would just zoom on by, almost unnoticed. I didn't expect anything special from it - but it turned out to be one of the best. Last Thursday evening (the day of) I joined my friends for their weekly Thursday-potluck-dinner-get-together. We had a good time and they surprised me with a cake. Saturday I had an Italian potluck to celebrate and to show off the new place to everyone. They were all surprised that we looked so settled after only being there two weeks - though the truth was we'd just stuck all the extra boxes in the storage room!

I got some great presents. Brand & Jackie gave me a matching set of 4 wine glasses - extra thick glass to prevent our usual breakage (I've gone through so many wine glasses in the last year and we were down to *one*), and of course, some wine to put in it. Jackie also got me Sidney Omar's "Cooking with Astrology" - a book I've wanted for some time now. Brand also got some little wine glass charms for the bigger glasses. Erin bought me one of my favorite wines - Mondavi Merlot - Private Selection; saving that one for a special occasion. Missy gave me a darling little bejeweled, red-satin jewelry box. "The Idiot's Guide to Paganism" from my brother (those books are so informataive, I'm learning a few things myself) and "Freeway" on DVD and the new Sims expansion pack ("Makin' Magic") from my sis (she's my game-addiction dealer apparently). My good friend Lauren and her fiance were able to find a babysitter and show up, too - that was great.

I think a good time was had by all. Sunday we went to visit with Baret's family, and they had gotten me a gift certifcate to Bed, Bath & Beyond. Oh yeah.

Really, it was a wonderful birthday. Now it's back to the grind. To all of you that have to work tomorrow - nah-yah. Nothing like a Monday that's really a pseudo-Friday. Woot!

But perhaps the most wonderful present of all was one I worked on and got for myself.

Saturday, for the first time in over a year, I fit back into my size 7's. That's a feeling I really can't put into words. Some of them are still a bit tight, but most are comfortable. After the surgery, I'd gotten up to 9's - and for awhile, was only able to wear 11's. While that may not sound that bad - scrunch all that weight down into a frame that stands only 4'10" tall and you'll see why I was unhappy with my weight. Everyone is asking me what I did. Well, I cut back on carbs - but not that much. The biggest change I made was to start drinking that new low-carb beer, Michelob Ultra. I told you it was my version of a diet; apparently there was more truth to that than I realized!

So to all, a good Monday. I had lots of pithy and interesting things to post about floating about in my head this weekend. Naturally, my memory being what is, I've forgotten all of them. You'll have to be satisfied with the birthday update and the happy weight loss story 'til I can get these old gears turnin' again. I hope everyone has a remarkable day!

The Utensil That Haunts Me

Monday, September 8th, 2003

You know it's a Monday when you get a $0.99 Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from Wendy's for lunch, and bring it back to your desk only to realize you have no Lactaid. It's a lactose intolerant person's worst nightmare; or, at least, biggest aggravation. My delicious, juicy, drool-worthy burger is cooling in the refrigerator while I sustain myself on pretzels and 8am-stale-popcorn.

But that's Monday for you.

Hope everyone had a great weekend. Mine consisted of passing out early on Friday night; as in 9pm early. I'm such a geek; I was really down and depressed, though, so I have an excuse. Saturday I got up at 5am and got online - and met some really cool guy with whom I chatted for two hours about spirituality and psychic powers. That was cool. It was interesting, because I'd just sat down to read some more on Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology site. I found it Friday evening, just before leaving work, and was blown away. I love his writing style, and his topics touched and rekindled all of my spiritual fires. I ordered his book (even though he offers it free on his website - showing he's a true artist and messenger) after only being on his site thirty minutes. If you like a little William-Blakeish/Kerouac-esque esoteric mumbo jumbo, you might be into this. I highly recommend checking it out.

Around noon, my Mom called. "I just read your blog," she said.

Now, I know Mom reads my blog (Hi, Mom!), and loves it, but the first thought that ran through my head was "Omfg, did I say something I shouldn't have?! Did I piss someone off?!"

Instead, her next sentence was "You heard from Spoon? What do you mean an 'impending visit'? What's going on??"

My Mom is so cool. I explained to her, and to you now, that he (Spoon/aka "the ex") had called me last week out of the clear blue. Perhaps, not so clear - I'd dreamt about him getting in touch with me twice the week before, which meant he was thinking about me and about to do that very thing. I'd rather not see him and rather not talk to him - in fact, I'd rather not have him in my life at all. But I do love the guy - we went through a lot together and I care about him - and I am, literally, the only person he has to come to when life gets him down. I told him I'd always be there for him, and I meant it. Even if he throws me into a state of topsy-turvy panic every time he comes around. You see, I'm not in love with him anymore and have absolutely no desire to be his girl ever again - but he was my first love and we were together a long time. There is this sort of "he's mine" still there; even though it's very small. I'm also an evilly jealous Scorpio. I don't like to hear him talk about other women. In fact, the last time we talked, he'd gotten in touch with me to tell me he'd fallen in love. After almost five years of our being broken up, he'd finally found someone else that he fell in love with. I would've been happy for him if the whole thing didn't sound so doomed-from-the-start (she's a 19 year-old, spoiled/Daddy's girl [his words] stripper). But it hurt me, too. I don't know why - it just did. I predicted this entire scenario back then, and my vision has come to bear fruit. Things aren't so great in his new loving-bliss and he needs someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on and commiserate with him. So he calls me. Naturally. The problem with this is, I only ever hear from him when he needs something. Whether it be money, advice, sex or just a an ear to listen. And he knows this. He told me on the phone last week, when I agreed to let him come to my apartment, "You don't have to let me come over. I understand if you don't want to see me. You've always been there for me no matter what shit was going on in my life. You're the only one - and I always use you and shit on you." It still doesn't stop him from doing it.

Anyway, I haven't heard from him yet today - and this Monday evening was the proposed date of his arrival. Perhaps he forgot, or something else came up. I can only hope. I'm not comfortable talking about him these days; it's like a scar that never stops itching. I would rather rip out my fingernails than listen to him talk about his current love life; luckily I'm quite good at pretending to pay attention whilst my mind wanders elsewhere.

Saturday evening my bestest friend in the whole world, Brandon, my sister and her boyfriend and my brother all got together at my apartment for some beer and pizza and fun. We had a nice time, even being such a motley crue of an assembly.

I went to bed early (around 11pm) and got up earlier on Sunday morning so I could go and visit my soulmate. That made everything okay - the depression I've been feeling and the impending visit with the ex. Baret came over Sunday evening, we grilled some shish-kabobs and watched this very interesting show on medieval weapons on the History Channel.

A nice weekend - but, as always - entirely too short. Think of me this evening; I might need it.

Mom & I’s Weird, Wild Trip

Tuesday, September 2nd, 2003

It isn't Monday, but it feels like Monday, and that's bad enough.

While most of my friends jet-setted to interesting locales for the holiday, Brandon and Jackie went to Chicago, John and Missy drove to Florida, and Rose went on a delightful sounding camping trip, I opted to stay home and spend Monday with my Mom.

See, Mom and I love to drive around - we love just going on strange, little road trips to strange, little places. We left my apartment around 10:30 am Monday morning and found ourselves in Livingston parish. For those of you not from around here, let me just say now...this is area is mainly made up of weird rednecks. What is a "weird redneck", you ask? Just spend a day driving around Livingston parish and you'll know.

For starters, I want someone, please, to tell me what in the hell this thing is?! Mom and I were driving past it, when I uttered an "omfg" and pointed. We were thoroughly creeped out and spent some time just trying to figure out why Cement Man had originally been put up. There's nothing around him, no signs or anything to indicate the reason for his presence. He resides on the corner of two roads around Oak Grove...I had nightmares of him walking around the field behind him at night, eating the flesh of young children who'd gone to mudride in there. -shiver-

Our day ended at Ruby Tuesdays, back in the "safety" of Baton Rouge. We spent a few hours just talking over watered-down, two-for-one beers before heading home.

Our Saturday night trip to Mulatte's was a blast. It ended up being me and Baret, my Mom and Dad, my brother and grandpa. The music was great, the food even better. It's an interesting place, with a "Wall of Fame" when you walk in the door - celebrities of note that had eaten there were Robert Palmer, Meg Ryan, Geraldo Rivera, and other people I can't remember. If you can imagine this place, it's a long, rectangle of a building, all wood, with about 30,000+ business cards stapled into the ceiling. I don't know why - it just was. You don't question things in Cajun country. Though the place was dingy and dirty, I have to say it was some of the best food I've ever eaten. It just goes to show, you can't judge a kitchen by the shack it resides in.

We were going to stay at my grandfather's for the night, but Baret really thought we could beat the traffic and get home. It was the 4th quarter of the game and about 10:30 pm; I wasn't so hopeful. Needless to say, as we came towards LSU, all roads going to my apartment were already blocked off and being redirected. Unwilling to stay in the clusterfuck of post-game traffic, we went to the casino downtown. Hey, free drinks. We played slots for 5 minutes (long enough to have a drink brought to us), then sat out on the deck and watched the traffic on the bridge until it dwindled. We didn't get home 'til 12:30 am, and there was no where to park. Thank goddess for Miatas...we just moved my car up on the sidewalk and parked Baret's behind me. -sigh- Two more Saturdays until the blessing of an away game is upon us.

With that, I'll leave you with another landmark of note Mom and I found on our travels: these wise words from a true-blue Southern Baptist church.

To note, "Little Prairie" Baptist Church is not located on a prairie - unless you call the corner of two major highways a "prairie". Also, I've found that kneeling on knocking knees really only makes you fall down.

The Weekend in Review

Monday, August 25th, 2003

An interesting weekend, to say the least.

Friday night I attended the aforementioned fun party - had a good time. I'm the proud new owner of a red, gyrating, jelly, vibrating thingy, some menthol-tingly cream called Nympho's Niagra that I quite like, and an official "After Sex" towel (because you always need one). Just that little bit was around $60, so I didn't even look at anything else.

I spent the better part of Saturday combatting the huge hangover I had brought upon myself. After leaving the fun party, we went and met up with all of our friends at the Spanish Moon to see a Madonna cover band that sucked big dick. I got hit on by a deaf guy...I was so drunk and I just talk to everyone. I spent 10 minutes just trying to get him to get my name right before my friends came and whisked me away to save me. I barely remember getting home.

I was sick and went to bed at 6:30 pm, completely missing the other party I was supposed to attend, and woke up around 10:30. My bestest friend in the whole world called me at 1am and we talked until 4.

I spent Sunday watching two old movies on AMC, because they just caught my interest. One was "From the Terrace" with Paul Newman (I had no idea he was that gorgeous in his younger days). I caught the middle to end of it, but I really got into the "The Story of Eddie Duchin". It was so sad, as it was based on a true story about a famous pianist in the 30s, that I was depressed for an hour after watching it.

And here we are at Monday once again. Next Monday will be one of those rare exceptions to Mondays - it will be good. Because it is a day off. Though Labor Day is not a favorite in my family - we lost my grandmother on that day in 1998. So Mom and I are planning a little road trip - she can't stand to be around home on that day, and it will keep both our minds off of bad memories. But this Monday is just another crappy one. I wish I had something more interesting to say, but...it's Monday.