Money Well-Spent?

Today I braved the threatening skies and went to the Dallas Art Fest at Addison Circle. Some of the art was not that good; some, simply not my style; and some, exceedingly outside of my price range. As an example, I saw a kick-ass huge painting that I loved for $2900. As I was admiring the painting I knew I could not afford, a guy in a green t-shirt admired the same one. The vendor next door caught his eye and called him over by finger-wiggling. Green T-shirt moved toward him, keeping his eye on the $2900 canvas. The vendor spoke to him in not-super-hushed-tones.

"I wouldn't buy her work."
"No?"
"No. It's ridiculously overpriced. Look at it."

Green T-shirt looked back over.

"But it's really good."
"She thinks she's better than she is."

I took a glance at the work of this meddling vendor: iron sculptures that weren't even in the same genre as this woman's art. Why work so hard to lure away a potential buyer?

My family was ready to move on. I didn't hear the rest of the exchange, but I passed Green T-shirt later in the soggy day and his hands were empty. I felt bad for the woman from Naples, Florida who overvalued her work. Still, better to be her -- having confidence in what she has to offer -- than the meddler -- so petty he feels the need to steal customers who aren't interested in what he has to sell.

Sometime later, we happened upon a booth of art that we all liked. My sister and her husband pondered a big red pear for over their fireplace; I checked out a big green one for my staircase. My niece tried to steal touches of the paintings any time she thought no one was looking to tell her, once again, not to touch. She's at that age of testing. We made some more circles in the mud, all three kids in tow, but ended up back at the pears. After some consulting and measuring, JoEllen & Lance bought the red pear. I continued to contemplate the green one. It would look perfect in that space. I happen to really like green pears. It was an excellent combination of traditional subject matter with a contemporary flair. I liked that, too. The artist was asking $600, which really isn't that bad for a framed original.

But, I left it behind. $600, while no $2900, just seemed like more of a commitment than I was ready to make on a Sunday afternoon at the art festival; more of an investment than I'm ready to make in art; too much money for a single purchase that doesn't have 800 channels.

I got back home and gathered my new $160 jeans to take back to Nordstrom to get tailored. While at Nordstrom, I found a second pair and bought those as well. I moved on to Banana Republic and dropped about $300. Hollister & Express for another $100. Nine West for some shoes and another $50. All-in-all, a veritable spree that cost well over the $600 of the painting. This doesn't count the tank tops I bought online at Michael Stars last night, lured by Memorial Day weekend free shipping. And what do I have to show for it? Clothes that I am almost guaranteed to be bored with in less than half a year, probably less.

My priorities are all out of whack.

And now, a survey

1. My uncle once: said to me, "How much weight have you gained, there, Pam?"
2. Never in my life: will I become a true cynic no matter how hard the
world tries.
3. When I was five: I killed myself. My big years were 4 & 6.
4. High School was: a blast of big hair, ridiculous fun & an asshole
of a boyfriend.
5. I will never forget: that people died eating at Jack in the Box
6. I once met: my match. we tussled.
7. There's this girl I know: who I am great friends with only because
she was roommates with a girl who I became great friends with only
because she was great friends with a guy who hit on me at an all-night
diner at 4 in the morning.
8. Once, at a bar: one million times, at a bar
9. By noon I'm usually: starving, antsy, and looking to my left
10. Last night: I stayed up much too late & had three too many Stellas
11. If I only had: gone to bed much earlier. If only my alarm hadn't
gone off at 6.
12. Next time I go to church: will probably be ten days from now
13. Terry Schiavo: is way too much to get into in a survey
14. What worries me most: is that I will never reach the level of
success I want. That I will never change my ways.
15. When I turn my head left, I see: the elevators & stairs.
16. When I turn my head right, I see: Jen, Sok-Kien & Charles
17. You know I'm lying when: you think I'm lying & I start to laugh.
18. What I miss most about the eighties: is not hairspray.
19. If I was a character written by Shakespeare, I'd be: Ophelia.
20. By this time next year: my life will be largely the same
21. A better name for me would be: Jill. Or Ophelia.
22. I have a hard time understanding: numbers, fax machines, and Sam on a cell phone.
23. If I ever go back to school I'll: become a psychologist.
24. You know I like you if: I get shy, laugh a lot, or call to tell
you small things. I know you like me if you call back to hear them.
25. If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: my mother
26. Darwin, Mozart, Slim Pickens & Geraldine Ferraro: evolutionized classical rockabilly politics
27. Take my advice: call your mother often. Remember the Golden Rule.
"This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time."
28. My ideal breakfast is: a Balance Bar & an iced grande vanilla
nonfat latte from starbucks. Or a diet vanilla pepsi.
29. A song I love, but do not have is: "Hate It or Love It" – the Game
30. If you visit my hometown, I suggest: leaving as soon as possible
31. Tulips, character flaws, microchips & track stars: are things that
belong on t-shirts
32. Why won't people: just be normal.
33. If you spend the night at my house: my cat will sleep on your chest.
34. I'd stop my wedding for: a panic attack
35. The world could do without: people who leave their turn signals
on, people who laugh at things they say that aren't funny, flakes,
tofu, and the phrase "yada yada yada."
36. I'd rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: sit in the middle
seat in an airplane
37. My favorite blonde is: I don't know any real blondes except beau
disco & the last time I saw him he was getting browner by the second.
38. Paper clips are: fun to bend into shapes
39. If I do anything well, it's: type
40. And by the way: "I tried to say I'd be there… waiting for…"

Speaking of unethical

So I'm sitting on my porch, enjoying the lovely night weather, talking with Anthony, when the other line on my cell phone rings. I click over and it's the Doc-in-the-Box. Odd, I think. 10:30 pm. This isn't dr.'s hours. I assume it will be a short conversation as the nurse has already told me my blood work came back okay.

I can tell it's not going to be a short conversation.

It takes a while before I can find a break to ask him to hold on.

When I click back over, he resumes asking me about my continued, unexplained leg pain.

Doc-in-the-Box: Do you get back pain?
Me: Sometimes.
Doc-in-the-Box: Me too. Is the leg pain usually at night?
Me: It's happened every night, but it's also happening during the day. Yesterday I was swimming with my niece and my entire right leg siezed up for a good half an hour.

Etc.

We retread the ground that the nurse & I have already tread: my potassium's fine; my calcium's fine; the swelling's gone down thanks to those magic pills he gave me (5 1/2 pounds lost in 2 days? Seriously? Miracle.); no, the skin is neither red nor hot and, therefore, I must not have blood clots.

Now we move on.

Doc-in-the-Box: What are the major stressors in your life?

I list a few. I'll spare you. If you know me, you know that the major stress in my life is everything. I'm just wired that way. Suffice to say that the break-in made the top 3. We talk about my sleep patterns briefly.

Doc-in-the-Box: Uh-huh. And where did you move from?
Me: Florida.
Doc-in-the-Box: Are you homesick for Florida?
Me: No. I hate Florida.

Then I get a little dissertation about how I must not have felt at home for some time.

Doc-in-the-Box: Have you found a church home yet?
Me [thinking: This is an odd thing to ask]: No.
Doc-in-the-Box: I find I never really feel at home until I find a good church home. If you'd ever like to visit ---, I'd be happy to host you.

An aside: Is it just me, or should this conversation not take place between a doctor and his patient, especially when the patient didn't initiate it? Would this conversation ever occur outside of the state of Texas?

Moving on: In-between the church home conversation and what follows, I find out that he just bought a Mac and really likes it, he likes to write songs, and he made his parents a movie for their wedding anniversary.

This is all fascinating stuff. The pain in my legs?

Oh, that. He says he'd like to prescribe muscle relaxers and that, in fact, he takes one himself. He'd really like me to try that one, but it's expensive, and he knows I don't have health insurance. He has samples of a different one, but it's strong and he'd "hate for [me] to feel like a zombie." I'm like, okay, let's do the free samples. I'll add a shot to my morning Starbucks.

Doc-in-the-Box has a better idea.

Doc-in-the-Box: What time do you usually go to bed?
[Hmm...]
Me: Um, pretty late, but I'm working on going to bed earlier.
Doc-in-the-Box: You a night owl? Me, too. My mother says when I get married I'll go to bed earlier.
Me: I guess that depends upon whom you marry.
Doc-in-the-Box: I think we'll probably be like, let's just enjoy each other and go to bed early.

Too much information, Doctor.

Doc-in-the-Box: Here's what I'm thinking -- it will take me about ten minutes to get home from here to pick up whatever-the-mild-muscle-relaxers-are-called and I could be at your place around 11:15 to drop them off.

...What???

Me [recovering]: Actually, I'm probably going to go to bed sooner than that. Perhaps I can pick them up from your office in the morning.
Doc-in-the-Box: Well, it wouldn't really look appropriate for me to leave a few pills without a prescription.

But it would, of course, look appropriate for you to personally drive them to my house at 11 o'clock at night.

We finally settle on his calling in 3 pills for me to try, though he's very worried I won't sleep well tonight without the muscle relaxers.

I thank the good doctor for his concern, and assure him I will.

Because I have too much stuff

Barry: My place is three-stories. The stairs kill me.
Me: Yeah, my place is only two stories, and sometimes the stairs kill me.
Barry: You live by yourself?
Me: Yes.
Barry: In two stories?
Me:And two bedrooms. And two and a half bathrooms. And a two-car garage.
Barry: Why do you need all that space for just yourself?
Me: Because I’m a grown-up.
Barry: Good answer.

I finally meet Big Armed Ron. 

Look at all these brown-eyed girls. And boy. 

Jen & I eagerly await french fries. 

Abby & Kelly smile at the drive-through. 

Our resident betting expert + Alcohol in action. 

Alex must be very thirsty. 

and then...

two fireflies glowing above my car

I haven't seen fireflies in years

Wrong Horse = Good Luck

I sense an upswing.

Last night at Lone Star Park, as we watched the horses parade in their little circle, the pink horse turned and looked at me. I decided to put all the cash in my possession -- three dollars -- on the pink horse. We ran to the counter to place our bets before the cut-off, but I couldn't remember what number Pink was. I asked my friend Barry and he said, "Number 7." I turned to the nice man waiting to take my money and put all three dollars on Number 7 to place. I pulled my white ticket, stepped back and looked at the TV screen, and saw that Number 7 was orange. Pink was 8. Wrong horse. Wrong horse that had 18/1 odds.

We found our way back to the side of the track to watch the massive, beautiful beasts fly around the track. As they round the final corner, I realize: Number 7 -- Orange -- is up at the front. Number 7 pulls away from the pack and finishes a nose ahead of whatever horse is behind him. Could have been #8. But my love is now for #7. I win.

Had I bet for him to actually win -- instead of simply place -- I would have won more, but I was ecstatically happy with the $22.50 I walked away with from the wrong horse. A sign of good luck to come.

This morning I spent two hours at the Doc-in-the-Box (which could hardly be considered lucky), except that the doctor gave me candy -- and his cell phone number & email address. Not sure that's quite ethical, but, hey. I think he was attracted to my strong breath sounds and low blood pressure.

The moral of the story: Sometimes you have to bet on the wrong horse to win.

Actually, there's no moral of the story but I like the way that sounds.

(Photos to follow...)

Dreams Are Strange

I'm living in a huge run-down once-mansion/hotel in a foreign country. The country is being taken over by insurgents, but we are safe. Then we aren't. Vague bomb sounds come from the distance. Everyone tries to flee the hotel/mansion to find safety, and most succeed. I remember there is a child in a room and I go to find her. Her name is Bai Li and she stopped speaking and moving long ago. I know I have to rescue her because she will not rescue herself. She lies on a wooden bottom bunk in a darkened room, completely still, staring only at the bottom of the bunk above her. A blanket covers the window. I grab her from the bed. She says nothing; even her eyes remain silently blank. I run with her to a nearby closet and get in just in time. I slide behind the open white door hoping we will not be discovered. The door is flung open and I am afraid, but it is Bai Li's father. He slides behind the door with us, and I hope that he will be able to protect us.

100 Things About Me

While roaming around random blogs, I discovered a handful of people who had made lists of 100 things about themselves. I decided to take up the challenge & even managed not to repeat a single thing from the "About Me" sidebar.

1. I was once the official witness to Ray Liotta’s will. I may still be.
2. I shave my legs every day. I never quite get my knees.
3. I bite the sides of my fingers when I am nervous or thinking.
4. “She has trouble acting normal when she’s nervous.”
5. Roadkill makes me sad.
6. I have had surgery thirteen times.
7. I am often a glutton for punishment.
8. I like to fix things. Like people.
9. I have a highly addictive personality.
10. Make me laugh and I’m yours.
11. Make me laugh & think and I’m really yours.
12. I am extraordinarily stubborn.
13. I have been known to hold a grudge.
14. I have been known to forgive too easily.
15. I played the piano for eleven years.
16. I type 100 words per minute.
17. I have carpal tunnel syndrome.
18. My kneecaps are out of place.
19. I sometimes glare at people and don’t know I’m doing it.
20. I frequently stare at people and don’t know I’m doing it.
21. I prefer to drink from a straw.
22. I read magazines from back to front.
23. I get along with men better than women.
24. I love to kickbox.
25. I have strange and vivid dreams and almost always remember at least one the next day.
26. I expect perfection from myself & others. This gets me into trouble.
27. I am ridiculously nosy. One of my nicknames: Pam Parker, Girl Detective.
28. A perfectly-crafted sentence can make my day.
29. I am an expert second-guesser & can analyze any situation to its death.
30. I must have something to drink at all times.
31. I collect old cameras.
32. I don’t care about chocolate all that much.
33. I can roll my tongue.
34. I can raise one eyebrow.
35. I can wiggle my nose like a rabbit. I could do this before I had rabbits.
36. I used to love Shaun Cassidy more than life & spent hours lying on my bed listening to “Under Wraps.”
37. Many years later, I worked for Shaun Cassidy. He gave me a signed Hardy Boys lunch box.
38. I tend to develop crushes on unavailable people.
39. There are few things better than a really fabulous make out session.
40. I hate gin.
41. I wish I knew HTML.
42. Sometimes I don’t think I’m cut out for this world.
43. Sometimes I wonder if everyone wakes up and says, “God, I hope I make it.”
44. I reside somewhere between who I think I should be, who I am, and who I really want to be.
45. I'm not sure any level of success will ever feel like success to me.
46. I am an excellent teacher, but I hate teaching.
47. Sometimes, I am extraordinarily impatient.
48. And irritable.
49. On those days, stay out of my way.
50. I remember the nightmares I had when I was four.
51. I was unprepared for how much I would love my nieces & nephews.
52. I have been known to dance naked in front of the mirror.
53. I am fiercely loyal to those I love.
54. My college roommate died five years ago. We weren’t speaking at the time. It’s not something I’ll ever get over.
55. I get attached way too easily.
56. I adore my big sister.
57. I am a sugar-addict.
58. “You don’t want to be in love. You want to be in love in a movie.”
59. I am always making wishes. It makes me sad when I can’t think of anything to wish for.
60. On my computer right now are the beginnings of: my second novel, a business book, a movie treatment, a third novel, ¾ of a pilot, and three short stories.
61. When I was sixteen, I had a car accident with an 18-wheeler. The only reason I’m still alive is that he wasn’t carrying a load that day.
62. The accident was 100% my fault.
63. I like to take pictures, especially black & whites and Polaroids.
64. I worry about losing people and am often afraid that when I speak to or see someone that it will be the last time.
65. My favorite place in the world is my family’s lakehouse at Lake Brownwood.
66. I have been in love three and a half times.
67. I went to the National Spelling Bee when I was in 7th grade.
68. I am easily influenced.
69. But deep down I know what I want.
70. When email is down, I feel like my arms have been cut off.
71. I have panic attacks.
72. First kisses are nice. Second kisses are better.
73. I am very sensitive. I am also high maintenance.
74. I miss Los Angeles.
75. I sleep with my bedroom door shut and locked. Yes, I do think this will keep me safe.
76. I sing in the car. Loudly.
77. I hate getting out of the shower.
78. My friend Shauna & I won the 8th grade talent show with our duet of Styx’s “Babe.” I accompanied us on the keyboard.
79. Another act accused us of winning because we are white.
80. We did sing “Babe.” Perhaps they had a point.
81. I have problems with authority.
82. I clench my jaw when I sleep. I’ve broken two teeth doing just this.
83. I give people a lot of strikes before I count them out.
84. But once I do, it’s pretty permanent. I’m not proud of that. It’s just true.
85. I like reality TV.
86. I went to Career Day in 2nd grade as a writer. I wore my most comfortable clothes because I figured writers could wear whatever they wanted.
87. My 2nd grade boyfriend MB went as an attorney. Sometime in the day he made me angry as I was sitting up on the playground equipment and, as he stood there in his little suit, I kicked him in the nose.
88. I love the sound of a coke can being opened.
89. A 32-ounce Cherry Limeade from Sonic may be the world’s perfect drink.
90. I’ll never forget the first time my niece said my name.
91. Christmas is my favorite time of year.
92. I don’t think any of us gets enough hugs in a day.
93. I don’t call my grandfather like I should.
94. My first thought when I wake up: What did I do wrong yesterday?
95. A slightly-cool, darkened movie theater, a bag of popcorn, a large diet Coke with regular Coke mixed in + an excellent movie playing = perfect.
96. Someone I really like sitting in that cool, dark theater next to me = more perfect.
97. I am temperature-mental.
98. I don’t like bugs but I won’t kill them. Instead, I try to coax them onto a magazine so I can put them outside where they belong.
99. I don’t begin to eat like I should.
100. I do take Flintstones vitamins (complete).

This Was a Rethink

I once went on a date with someone, really, just because he was quasi-famous. That, and he told me I had the best bottom lip he'd ever seen. I saw him on HBO last night and thought, Wow... why did I go out with that guy?

Troy poses for the camera as Charles remains in character with Kristy @ The Whisky Bar.  

We were all glad when Jen found her grandmother's lost watch. :) 

Abby & I are 22. 

Barry & Matt & Matt's tonsils 

Birthday Girl & Brett 

Faith, Hope & Love

You know how when you were a little kid and you believed in fairy tales? That fantasy of what your life would be? White dress, Prince Charming who’d carry you away to a castle on a hill... You’d lie in bed at night, and close your eyes, and you had complete and utter faith. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Prince Charming… they were so close you could taste them. But eventually you grow up. One day you open your eyes and the fairy tale disappears. Most people turn to the things and people they can trust. But the thing is? It’s hard to let go of that fairy tale entirely because almost everyone still has that smallest bit of hope, of faith, that one day they’ll open their eyes and it will all come true. - Meredith, Grey's Anatomy

Sometimes I feel like I’m losing hope. And faith. I’m pretty sure that fairy tales are a cruel joke played on us as children that we cling to as adults. When I hear my four-year-old niece talk about Prince Charming, I want to tell her to let go of that now, save herself some heartache later. But maybe that "smallest bit of hope" in me keeps me from dashing her own big dreams.

I have a ring that I wear on my left hand – and almost never take off, except to sleep – that says “Faith, Hope, Love.” When I think about it, I twist it to reflect how I’m feeling. If you see me wearing it, though, don’t read too much into what it says because many times I just slide it on and go.

After the break-in at my townhouse, the CSI guy noticed my ring and complimented me on it. My response: “I have it on ‘faith’ because I don’t feel loved or hopeful.” His response? “You still have all three. It’s just that the people who did this to you don’t have faith, hope, or love.”

Still. I’ve had three conversations with three different friends in the last twenty-four hours about sadness and the ways it pervades our lives. On paper, we’re all doing well. We have jobs. Friends. Families who love us. On paper, you might trade places with one of us. Maybe even all four of us. So why don’t any of us feel particularly happy or hopeful? And is there any way to reclaim such happiness and hope? Can you get back the faith, hope and love once you’ve given up on it? And, really, where does it reside?

I had lunch recently with a guy who told me his mom had been clinically depressed since he was twelve. I asked him why he thought that was. “She always looked for her happiness in other people. She never found it.”

On some level, I know and believe that you can only be happy with others once you find that happiness within. Regardless of how Deepak that might sound, I think it’s true. So then the real question becomes: How do we do that? Especially as women, where we constantly devalue our own worth and just as constantly hand that worth over to others and say, “Please devalue me a little more to confirm my own devaluation.”

We can go to yoga or therapy or get drunk five times a week. We can bury ourselves with work, with play, with prescription drugs. Most people I know have done many of these, often in tandem. I’ve yet to see them be successful at the inner happiness thing.

A wise, older friend of mine always says the same thing to me on the rare occasions I am lucky enough to see her, as we live thousands of miles apart. “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

I just said almost the same thing to one of the friends referenced above, who is also thousands of miles away. I see beauty in her, beauty & greatness. Intelligence, laughter, love. But it’s not what she sees when she looks in her own mirror. I get that.

Someone else I love always says to me, “Get out of the mirror.” I know he means literally. Stop staring at the mirror looking for the flaws. But maybe that’s what we all need to do: Get out of our inner mirror, mirror on the wall that will never see ourselves as anything resembling fair.

Would that bring us to faith in ourselves? Hope for ourselves? Love for ourselves?

Perhaps we have to bar love from the equation, because we are never guaranteed love, and we are never guaranteed that the love we receive will be enough to make us believe we should be loved. Let’s get rid of hope while we’re at it, because what is hope, really, if not hope for love, even hope for self-love? Hope, you’re out.

So all that’s left is faith, and I think that’s apropos.

Fake it until you make it. Act as if. Phrases left over from a different part of my life that should hold just as true today. Perhaps that’s the only way to truly find happiness: telling ourselves it’s there. Telling ourselves it will all work out, even when we don’t feel like it will. And maybe, without our realizing it, faith will show up, with hope and love right on its heels.

One can hope.

At the end of the day, faith is a funny thing. It turns up when you don’t really expect it. It’s like one day you realize that the fairy tale may be slightly different than you dreamed. The castle, well, it may not be a castle. And it’s not so important that it’s happy ever after, just that it’s happy right now. See, once in a while, once in a blue moon, people will surprise you. And once in a while, people may even take your breath away. -Meredith, Grey's Anatomy

"Alcohol, my permanent accessory" - BNL

Ridiculous things you may do after drinking:

You may tell a co-worker that you and your friend call him Hot [Insert Name Here].

You may do blue bubble-gum shots with twenty-something co-workers. It has something to do with Jägermeister, which you swore off when you were in college. Unlike your co-workers, college was a long time ago.

You may send text messages you swore in the light of sober you would never send.

You may increase intoxication level by accepting a bet from boys who refuse to believe you are not 24. You may prove your 34-ness by showing I.D. and increase intoxication level with vodka-something drink that they buy you as a result.

You may leave your new white Lucky jacket at the bar.

You may find yourself driving down a one-way street the wrong way. You may only become aware of such fact because a cop flashes his lights at you.

Revision: You may find yourself driving.

You may cruise through your cell phone, dialing people you haven’t spoken to in months. You may leave long, rambling, drunken messages that will certainly make no sense once the receiver hears them.

You may decide you absolutely must have tacos and a bucket of diet Coke at 1:15 in the morning.

You may find yourself on the phone with your old boss in Los Angeles at 1:45 in the morning. The only thing that will save you is that he is also drunk.

You may stay on the phone until four in the morning, thus ensuring less than four hours of sleep.

You may wake up and feel as though you are still drunk.

You may quickly replace this boaty feeling with a stabbing headache and puffy eyes.

You may drink tons of caffeine and water during the day in an attempt to bounce back. You may find that you’re starting to bounce back more quickly than you were, say, a month ago. Around one, you may begin making plans to go out drinking again that night.

Rinse and repeat.

3 ways that I am lazy that may appear to be the opposite

I will put so many plastic grocery bags over my arms that I’ll have little red indentations for an hour just to avoid making more than one trip from the car to the house.

I’m signing up for 5:30 am Boot Camp so I can get in shape in 4 weeks rather than diligently going to the gym I already pay for.

I have skinned knuckles from boxing last night because I didn’t feel like taking the time to find my boxing gloves and I wanted to be finished kickboxing in time to watch American Idol.

Miscellany

In honor of my friend Abby's birthday, two good quotes from TABC Tuesday night:

"It's just there to keep my hands clean." - Abby, discussing her dislike of bread yet ultimate need for it in making a sandwich.

Abby: "No one had sex in cars when I was in high school."
Brett, incredulous: "Where did you grow up?"
Abby: "Not in Sexville."

On a wholly unrelated note, if you find yourself bored today, I highly recommend checking out Scott K.'s latest blog entry. Ah, the adventures of a graduate student-slash-entry attendant...

Tongue Ranting

1. I hate how all food stings my tongue.

2. I hate that said stinging is all my fault for chain-eating those damn Wint-O-Green Lifesavers for months on end now and, as a result, stripping off my taste buds. Or something like that. Even when I don’t want any more of them, I eat more. I am currently on my second bag of 365 Lifesavers. I do know that’s not normal.

3. To add to the daily sting, I burned my tongue at lunch on my Cowboy Chicken veggies. I don’t like that. (Really, I hate it, but perhaps I’ve already surpassed my “hate” quotient for the list, since this is not, in theory, a list of things I hate that have to do with my tongue.) I read once that pouring sugar on a newly-burned tongue will reverse the effects of the burning. It doesn’t. But you still get to eat a whole pack of sugar and that I always like.

4. I hate that my tongue is naked of Lifesavers today as I left them all at home.

5. I am finding that the word “tongue” is starting to sound and look odder and odder with every typing of it. I actually find all mouth words to be slightly strange. Tongue. Mouth. Lips. Taste buds. Teeth.

6. Actually, “teeth” I like. That one’s fun to say as long as you don’t associate it with “dentist.”

7. “Odder” is an odd word if ever there were one. “Odder” and “odd word” sound interestingly similar. Perhaps interesting is a stretch.

8. Then again, if you say your own name enough times, that sounds weird, too.

9. Really, almost any word.

10. If you’ve read this far, I owe you 50 cents.

Survey II: Bob-Inspired

My friend Bob has proposed a new topic of surveying and I think it's a good one.

Lamest excuse you've ever given for breaking up with someone, or for just not going out with them in the first place.

Mine: "I'd love to, but I have to watch Melrose Place."

Because I Am Hot & Bored: A Survey

The AC is out at work today and I may be about to melt into a puddle. I am also bored with headline writing. I am taking a v. short break to post a v. short survey.

I do recognize that most of you will fail to respond to this survey in any form other than emailing me directly. I will take such failure as direct correlation to your level of bravery.

Genesis of said survey: A couple of weeks ago, sitting around an outside table at TABC, Taber asks, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to someone you dated?”

While both of the boys present had quick and immediate answers, the two females present (myself included) were hard-pressed to come up with anything other than, “I can tell you the worst thing anyone ever said to me.”

So let’s have it. Worst thing said by or to you to someone you had been or were currently involved with.

These Are All [Insert Adj. Here] Words

Flouncy
Fabulous
Awesome
Yucky
Ridiculous
Boaty
Excellent
Tremendous
Crunchy
Punchy
Seriously
Jackass
Terrific
Super
Superfabulous
Fantastic

A Partial List, on May the 6th

Things That I Like
Mani/pedis at Beverly Hills Nail in Highland Park
Ice cold diet Vanilla Pepsi
Text messaging
Having a full tank of gas
Chips & salsa
Word jewelry
The color brown
When XM does a good job of mixing songs
Getting off work early
Wishes


Things I Find Depressing
Lunch brought to work from home, especially if it’s in Tupperware
Leftovers
Waking up early on a weekend day
Going to the bank
Paying bills
Dressing up
Diets
Being stuck inside on a beautiful day


Things I Find Annoying
Vague responses
Hearing people chew ice
Hearing people click their fingernails
Stopping for gas
People who don’t do what they say they’re going to do
People who don't complete the loop
Headaches
Slow drivers in the fast lane
Bad songs on the radio
Getting yelled at when the person’s really mad at someone else

Lucky Who?

As I pulled on my new-ish Lucky jeans yesterday morning, I began to wonder: Can clothes get any smaller before we're all just naked?

I will say that shirts are getting longer, and this is a good thing. How else are we supposed to cover that gap between our ultra-ultra-super-low-rise jeans and the bottom of our tiny-t? So shirts are getting longer and this is a good thing (sorry, boys), but jeans just keep melting toward the floor.

Case in point: my aforementioned Lucky jeans. If any of you own or have had the privilege of unbuttoning Lucky jeans, you know that every pair says the same thing on the inside of the button flap: "Lucky You." Very cute, yes? However. My new jeans -- which are called the Little Maggie, fwiw -- as you unbutton them, simply say "Lucky" and, even then, you really have to look for that "y." The entirety of the "You" is hidden. This is still a nice message to receive. Just a simple little "Lucky" to start (or end) your day (or night).

Is it a pain in the ass (no pun intended) to have to pull up on the back of your jeans and arrange your shirt every time you sit down so as not to give an unintended show? Yes. Absolutely. In fact, I sat in church Sunday night consumed with worry that my newly-long shirt (also from Lucky) was not quite long enough to take care of that gap at my lower back. But do I rush out and buy other jeans? Maybe a nice mid-rise that would be gap- and therefore worry-free? Absolutely not. I'm just too used to my ultra-low-rise. They're comfortable. And if they require a bit of tugging and arranging, or leaning rather than sitting, well, so be it. And thank goodness for longer shirts.

That said, if they get any lower... oh, the lengths we'll have to go to in order to keep wearing them... Suffice it to say, it has something to do with Brazil.

I thought this was cool

I, Googlebot

Finally, Success

My friend Sam was kind enough to hook up my many electronics for me -- and worked tirelessly to make them all speak to each other -- yet stubborn TiVo did not want to cooperate. After many, many heated arguments between TiVo and me, TiVo finally saw things my way and decided to come back to life. Last night, for the first time since I left Florida last June (can't believe it's almost been a year), I watched my first TiVo-recorded show*. I could just kiss him. Welcome back, TiVo. I've missed you.

Now, if I can only get all of the electronics and the TV off the floor and onto their new table (which is halfway across the room), I'll really be getting somewhere. I'll have to work out a little more before I can do that kind of heavy lifting, but I am pretty impressed with myself for managing to get a 100-lb. heavy bag out of the trunk of my car last night, all my myself. Sure, my back hurts and I think I did something weird to my ankle while I was inside the trunk, shoving the bag out the passenger door with my feet, but by the time I get home from work today, I will have my very own bag to kickbox to my heart's content, and my old friend TiVo waiting to record American Idol.

*Though I will admit to American Idol, in the interest of self-preservation, I won't say what show TiVo got for me to watch last night. Take your best guess.

Quote for the Night

"The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can’t pretend that we haven’t been told. We’ve all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time. Heard the damn poets urging us to seize the day.

Still, sometimes, we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today’s possibility under tomorrow’s rug until we can’t anymore, until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin meant: That knowing is better than wondering; that waking is better than sleeping; and that even the biggest failure, even the worst, most intractable mistake, beats the hell out of never trying." - Meredith, Grey's Anatomy