Awwww...you made me ink

Realizations of a sober friend

2005-04-03T10:17:00.000-04:00

Last night I had the distinct pleasure of being the sober friend. I was for once, not intoxicated while the rest of my friends....well, I can't say the same. It was the celebration of Luba's birthday. Her 27th. Whoa! 27, I don't know..it kind of hits you when you put it down on paper like that...or umm, screen. Anyway, in my soberness, I came to the realization of a few things:

1. White men CAN'T dance.
They try of course. And whilst both people are under the direct influence of the old cough syrup, it might appear to both participants as though he is getting his swerve on. But do not be fooled, white men just lack the upper body motion to jive my friends. I learned this mainly from watching my fiancee, who generally, I am hammered right along side with. In fact, through the 2 years we have been together, I have often complimented him on his dancing ability. Maybe it only encouraged him. Though fun to watch and a blast to have a good time with, there are reasons why the Caucasian race belongs in their own corner on the dance floor.

2. Drinking games are never to be played with water. When played with only flavored water, they may cause you to be more sick than with alcohol. Luba's sister kept making me drink this lemonade flavored water I had during a good 'ole fashioned round of "Up the River, Down the River". I can not chug lemonade, even pseudo lemonade. I think that may have actually been worse for my stomach. The only thing I kept thinking was, "Does she think this is a real drink-drink? Why is she making me drink so much lemonade? Does she want me to just pee a lot?" Odd really.

3. Stage diving is not really cool anymore. Though it seems like a good time, as a sober person, man does everyone look silly. I thought that was outlawed in the 80's. Oh wait! I love the 80's!. Well, it is just wrong. At any moment, I thought the lighters were coming out. Yeah, it's a good thing we had the whole back room to ourselves.

4. DJs with Napoleon complex who haven't listened to your friend's last 10 requests, are not going to listen to their next 5. Even though this DJ totally sucked, he still had this chip on his shoulder where he refused to play any requested music. Even though we were the only people dancing and even though HE HAD NO OTHER PEOPLE TO PLEASE. Requesting songs every 2 minutes doesn't help either. Just enjoy the crappy music peeps...we've resorted to stage diving for goodness sake!

5. Watching friends fall down is funny regardless of if you're drunk or not. Sorry b-day girl. Missing a step is just plain funny...at all times...no matter who is around...no matter where or what you are doing. It's a reality check we all need. I can't wait for my next one!

Actually, I am one of those people who has a good time with or without the potion. I would have preferred some. But rather, I traded it in for the ability to drive home and get in my nice cozy bed. Besides, remember when you used to be able to just act drunk? I was able to channel my youth by attempting to do that. Also not cool anymore. Yeah, I also realized I'm OLD. thanks.

NTW: What the hell is the Gasolina?

Is it all child's play?

2005-03-28T22:34:00.000-05:00

Today was the first time in quite some time I thought that having a kid's problems might somehow be better than having an adult's. Typically, I am not one of those people who think that way. As we age, we have problems and we just deal with it. That's how life works. But today, well, it was just one of those days. One of those days where you wonder if it is all worth it...Somehow. I would like to think I am a very hard worker: for my employer, in my relationship, in almost everything I do. But why should everything have to be worked at? Some things should just come easily. Love for example. Do you ever wonder how it is possible to love someone so much and also let them drive you absolutely insane? Do you ever wonder if working at something is the way to make it last? Or should lasting through the years come easily as long as you have that certain connection? All questions the typical 9-year-old doesn't worry about. All of which I would have traded for today. Anyone know where I can get that crystal ball?

Within a few short hours, today I became so angered by a co-worker I wanted to scream, was so emotional I wanted to cry, and laughed so hard I almost peed. How's that for a roller coaster? The problem I found myself faced with is that I am lacking the opportunity to say exactly what I am thinking...partly because I can't conjure up the verbiage and perfect conjunction of sentences to mean everything I really want to say. That age old fear of saying something you truly don't mean and then regretting it 10 minutes later also exists. I seem to have foot-in-mouth disease to the fullest on most occasions. But somehow, today I think everything I wanted to say was almost perfectly ready to exit the large orifice in my head. I chickened out to the fullest.

Later this evening, I found out my brother was being picked on at a family gathering this weekend. He didn't tell anyone because he didn't want to make his problems worse. Instead, he just let the "bullying" continue and hoped the other kid would eventually stop. I realized then how much harder being a kid might be than being an adult with too much scrutiny into her own thoughts.

NTW: If you could say exactly what you were thinking on most occasions, would you?

Green Beer and a lot of Cheers!

2005-03-20T20:48:00.000-05:00

Yet another St. Patty's Day come and gone. What a fine day! I don't know if it is was because this was going to be the last year of celebration with one of the most Irish names in existence or because I was just in desperate need of a reason to consume a large amount of Guinness mid-week, but I was set out to have a rock'in St. Patty's Day. By most standards, that can be pretty easy to do. But by mine, it can be a bit more difficult. This was the fist year I had not planned some kind of elaborate "event". I was not in Savannah. I was not drooling over the other JM. I was, in fact, remaining in Connecticut. Though completely and utterly excited about the events of the evening, I was not by any means, expecting it to be one of the best. As if it were a pre-cursor to the NCAA tourney, I couldn't have been more wrong.
St. Patty's Day started off just as mundane as all the others. I will spare you the details of the day. But by 3 pm, the place was hopping and it was quite obvious that everyone at work had suddenly begun to act as if they had a leprechaun in their pants. I myself included. The countdown was on. The plan was to meet at Bunny's, grab some grub (you know, some substance for the syrup) and head out to a few places in Stammie. Though dressed appropriately nice to score a few good glances, Sibby and I decided that a stop at the GAP and Banana was imperative. Luckily, it was just enough to clear the traffic which would have permitted us from getting our drink-on earlier anyhow. The arrival at Buns's house then the drinkage.
Now, here is where it gets interesting. There are 5 girls and one fireman on patrol. We represent about a $70 tab every time we approach the bar. Yet, in making our way through Temple (in what had to be the most crowded place I had ever been), you were hard-pressed to get a drink within 20 minutes unless you strategically placed your party throughout the bar. This was Lesson 1 we learned early. Next: we are ladies. Ladies who like to dance. You're in a crowded bar. Why is it that people can't learn how to hold their drinks properly. As we were shak'in our groove things, a large man walked by and I may or may not have hit his drink. He may or may not have dropped it all over the floor and shattered glass everywhere. He may or may not have just experienced Lesson 1 as described above to get that drink. At that moment, I realized I was about to get bitch slapped by a very large and in charge black man. BUT THANK GOD FOR BOOBIES! They definitely saved me. As Buns apologized profusely for me, I just started dancing again!
So we're having a good time, we're getting loaded and suddenly, it hits me that the bling on my finger has turned into a magnet. Now, I have never had a problem having men approach me. I am sure most women experience the same thing. But this night was a bit more than usual. And since I don't frequent the clubs much anymore, I can only imagine it has to do with the ice. One question: Why do men still think it is completely original to walk up to a woman and say "hey, I have never done this before but..." Buddy, you lost me at "I have never". Unless we are playing a drinking game, I don't ever want to hear those words come from some random man in a stanky bar. However, in this case, it allowed me the opportunity to use my now infamous line that was coined only a few short days prior: "Back Off Mista. Umm...I'M Engaged!" The ice came out, the boy left. And once again, I kept dancing!
By the end of the evening, the party had grown to 12 people...all of whom had also turned green by this point. I had licked an ice sculpture. The fireman had started to dance. Buns was, well, she beer checked me. Sibby fell asleep on the wall...almost. And LB was hail'in all the cabs in Stammie. Time to go home!
St. Patty's Day turned out to be one of the best ones I have ever had. I don't know if it was because setting no expectations only allows for no let-downs or if it was because things just seemed to go almost too smoothly. Either way, it was a night of a lot o' laughs.
Shiver me timbers! OK, well that is pirate...but whatever....they both walk funny after a few brews.

PICTURES FROM THE EVENING

NTW: Do high expectations yield better results or only make for more of a let-down?

Why do we stay connected?

2005-03-07T23:17:00.000-05:00

Life is funny. Well, you didn't need this blog to help you come to that conclusion. I am sure most of you probably realized that during those awkward teen years. We meet people, they come and go, some stay and some stay around even longer. Of those whom stay, we form solid friendships with them and others, they simply linger, like a dense fog. And still, as in my case, I find that as time seamlessly passes, I continue to question the meaning of these not-so-meaningful, yet long-lasting "relationships/friendships".

Before you know it, 2-, 3-, 10- years have passed and what you perceived to be those not-so-meaningful "relationships/friendships", have now begun to form somewhat of your most stable interactions. And why? Why can't we, well some of us at least, end something knowing that there is absolutely no good that can come of it? Why is it sometimes so hard to not be a part of something when it takes too much effort to be a part of in the first place? Why do we continue to surround ourselves with relationships/friendships that inevitably show signs everywhere of falling apart?

Well, I suppose it isn't quite fair to bring all this up without explaining a bit further. Lately, I have just realized that some people in my life do not play as big of a role as I had hoped they would...or perhaps as they used to. Still, they have significant meaning to my past. And I am torn between wondering if you can build a better friendship of tomorrow and just let the a past go, OR should what you had in the past be the base of building a better future?

Now, I know I said only one NTW, and apparently, I have asked quite a few. I should probably go back to writing about elves, shouldn't I?

Recommendation of the Week (though probably very late in the Game): Soundtrack from Ray

What better reason to begin blogging...

2005-03-03T22:32:00.000-05:00

than to start talking about Vegas again?? Yes, another trip is on the horizon which only means 2 things: 1) there is an excuse to take an inventory of my shoes; and 2) E.C. can now come down from the attic. Oh, you know what I am talking about--the Elvis Cow. He will be in full effect in 6 weeks.

As you can see from my lack of postings, it has been quite the busy schedule around here. There has been wedding planning, and well, other people's wedding planning, and in between, I have desperately been trying to convince my friends we need one last rendevous to Sin City. NOT that we're committing any sins--(what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?). Well, after all the persuading, all the dressing up in white and gold lamme, all the days of wearing that goofy ass black haired wig, I guess it worked. VIVA, VIVA, VIVA! We are headed to Vegas. I can not begin to tell you how excited we are. Not to mention we're at good 'ole Roy's place. Also, not to mention we somehow managed to milk an extra day's vacation out of the employers. How do ya like them apples?

Over the past few days, it has been brought to my attention that I might be putting too much emphasis on the fact I keep repeating "but this may be the last time I go with the ladies". The fiancee thinks that there will still be plenty of time for random flights to Sin City and booze-filled binges. I guess I am not of the same mind-set. After all, didn't I decide this was the right time to get married because I am preparing to give these trips up for romantic getaways to the Poconos and those large champagne glass bubble baths or some crap like that? I just don't see me, the hubby and the kids, packing up to go catch a whore-packed, Sirens of TI (Treasure Island for the non-Vegasers out there) sex show and some grinding dance grooves in--with the baby pack on my back--at ghostbar, fun-filled weekend that often. But maybe that's just me. Isn't that a hot image?

Perhaps some of the scrutiny comes from the fact I am going and we told all the boys they aren't allowed. Perhaps, there is a bit of jealousy that the ladies are going to Vegas, while the boys have realized that without us, well, they are just boring. They will be here with nothing to do but beer-pong and Third Watch (sorry Fireman). We however, will be there, with fabulous shoes and glass floors to dance on. Not that I have to justify any of this, but let me just put it out there that the year has not started off the greatest, either. I think we can all agree that the people thus far involved in this trip, myself included, deserve this trip. You never know what tomorrow will bring. But I know 2 weeks from now will certianly bring CHA-CHING and BLING-BLING!

NEW ADDITION TO THE BLOG:
I have decided to add this as something you should all think about each day. Well actually, it is something I am thinking about, and therefore, you will now too. So from now on, there is a NTD('Nifs Thought of the Day)

NTD:
Why is it when you try to show someone that they're thought of, it can sometimes have such a negative effect--as if it did the exact opposite of your purpose? Is it worth ever trying to extend a heartfelt thought or are we better off never crossing sentimental barriers?

Ouchies!

2005-01-16T01:46:00.000-05:00

Well, some of you may know, others will not, that I had minor back surgery yesterday. Everything went well...or so I think. It is hard to tell when your in a neck collar and can't really move anything from the mid-back down. Not that I lost all use of my lower body---god knows I couldn't do anything to my body that would prevent me from doing the "Beyonce". But the surgery wasn't pleasant and left me with quite a bit of residual pain.

In any event, I have sent the fiancee to do the dutiful things which required our presence this weekend. He gets to go to Stammie, he gets to go watch F-Ball and he gets to truly represent this "Rosigan" household of ours. I was actually looking forward to some Peace & Quiet. Just me and my fist-full of prescribed painkillers---how can it get any better?

Well, actually, there are a million ways it could be better. Like I could be dressed all hot and ready to shake what my momma gave me, but instead, I have opted for the "no shower" look, neckbrace and sweats. A fashion statement nobody will be making at the Golden Globes---though they really should. I don't know--I think the brace is hot. With some Swaravski crystals, they might just envy it at the Golden Globes. Speaking of which, I will provide a full detailed report of my fashion criticisms this week.

I sent the fiancee out so that he could be with his friends (and mine) and let them know we are there for them. Being a good supported--you know. I was glad when he decided to go. For a while, he was really wanting to stay here to take care of me. But I don't need all that bloody attention. I am fine on my Demerol and Percodan. Still, I can not bring myself to crawl into bed. Because I know my sweetie won't be there to snuggle up to. It's funny how sometimes at the worst moments, you realize how much you love someone. I miss him tonight---just him being around. And as I fall into my next semi-conscious coma, I hope when I wake, he'll be there with his arms around me.

Unexpected findings

2005-01-13T23:28:00.000-05:00

Tonight my future in-laws invited the fiancee and I over for dinner to talk Wedding Dirt. Needing every opportunity I can, I quickly accepted. So over we headed for a simple dinner and to "re-group". I even brought my latest porn over to share with the mom.
So there we were eating dinner and I bite into my food when all of a sudden I hear a "Snap" as I pull my burger away from my tightly clenched mouth. I looked down and oh snap! There is a hair in my burger. Ok, this is me here. I am completely grossed out by the slightest things of this sort. But what to do? I placed my hairy burger down gently and began to open it up. I found the culprit and surely, it was the mom's. Do I stop eating? Do I kindly refuse my one and only burger? Do I let her know? Being the faithful future Mrs. R that I am, I simply re-bun'd and tried again.

Now I know at this point you are probably losing your stomach....I am too a bit. And as I watched the fiancee (who was watching all this from his un-haired burger seat to my left), he seemed as if he was going to lose it as well. So what does he do? He calls me out on it. "'Nif, what is it that you are doing to your burger? Do you not like it?" What am I to say? " Umm, well, yes, typically I do enjoy the taste of a flattened patty of beef, especially when it has a locket of hair!"

After sucking it up and taking one for the team, I tried again. Wouldn't you know I must have gotten the knot or something because I came across another hair! Ok, I am not eating anymore of these hairy burgers. With that, I stopped and moved onto the mashed cauliflower. I figured, at least with that being white, I would see something right up front. But never-the-less, I am sure everyone knew what was going on. And why did I feel so strange about it? As if there were children in other countries who would die for burgers with an extra "kick".

At what point does our sacrifice for the sake of another person's feelings become too much to stomach? It was then I realized that as much as you want to, you can't always pretend everything is perfect.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that. And now I need to go find something I can actually enjoy eating. Anyone know where I can get a good peach?

Ever just have a bad week?

2005-01-10T22:05:00.000-05:00

First I will start off by saying I am retiring the Xmas blog entries for at least another 11 months. I am sure you are all elated. I have way too many posts about the festive holiday. Damn, do I love it! But alas, there will be no talks of sparkles and elves for quite some time now!

Back to reality. And reality is that every now and then you just have a crappy week. One of those weeks that just keeps kicking you while you're down. One of those weeks that makes you wonder why people can't see the sorrow on your face, and still they insist on constantly giving you bad news. That which does not kill us makes us stronger? Ummm, I think I don't want to find out if in fact it will kill me. But I sure as hell was thinking last week someone was setting out to do just that.

With a new product launch and a deadline looming above my head at work, the pressure is on--hard core. Everyone is feeling it. But you know how you stop, look around, and seemingly, you are the only one breaking a sweat? No? Well, maybe most people who work in cubifices shouldn't be breaking a sweat. That is why I chose to work for the man---because I do not do well with manual labor. But my paper-cut quota for the year was met last week. LAST WEEK ALONE. It is only the second week of January and I already have to check off that box as "things completed". Not one I was looking forward to so early in this fine 2005 year.

My company, the fine company that it is, spends oodles of dollars putting together a series of "Life Advice" brochures to help people cope with certain times in life they may find difficult or need some kind of guidance on. One of these "Life Advice" brochure stands is erected in our cafeteria. Every time I pass it, I wonder if one of our brochures can offer me any tips. Now usually, I wouldn't consult a brochure with a cartoon character on the front to guide me towards a life altering decision. And now I know why. Who needs a brochure on "How to Buy a Boat"? How about "Renting an Apartment"? Just for kicks, why not read up on "Fire Safety"?

This week a lawyer who also works for the man, thought yelling at me would somehow improve his day. I had to re-do a brochure 3 times because a certain department forgot to provide me with the proper information for development correctly the first time. My ex-boyfriend e-mailed me a picture of the engagement ring he was proposing with for my opinion (yeah that was nice). And my mom thinks it would be sweet to slow dance a mother-daughter dance at my wedding. I need a Life Advice brochure on "Surrounding Yourself with People Who are Slightly Crazy"--not on buying a boat.

So this week begins and we will see what it holds. So far, so good. Well, that is if you count the fact that thus far, I haven't slept. Perhaps I should go try again. Note to self: check insomnia brochures.

Tips of the Holiday Season...and a few other short notes

2005-01-04T22:19:00.000-05:00

Wow! almost a whole month has passed. I apologize for my lack in steady posts. However, as I am sure you are aware, I have been quite the busy person as of late. Xmas for an elf, or one who should have been...ehhmm, is a busy time. So without further ado, I will get back on track. Luckily, I kept track of the few things I learned while managing to make it through a jam packed schedule complete with cookie baking, ginger-bread house assembly and 3 Xmas tree erections...Wait, am I allowed to use "Christ" and "erection" in the same sentence? Well, here it goes:

1. You can never buy too much Xmas crap.
I think I cornered the market on Christmas decorations single-handedly. However, somehow I managed to start in June, continue through the season and still have room to live in my house. I will try harder next year. Funny how a Santa Clause that shakes his ass and dances to "Jingle Bells" is the tackiest thing since Dame Edna's evening gown one day, yet seems completely necessary during the months of November and December. Also funny how even frosty can look nice in the bathroom.

2. Stuffed animal snowman, no matter how cute and fluffy they are, can even be arranged into sexual positions which are completely inappropriate.
Friends don't let other friends play with Christmas decorations. 'Nuff said.

3. Company Christmas parties are so much more fun after a few drinks. (You all knew that.)
What you didn't know is they are even more fun with plastic black Stetson hats and 1984 shades with "Billie Jean" blaring in the background. However, here's a note to company party planners everywhere: WHEN WILL YOU LEARN ALL CAMERAS AND TAPE RECORDING DEVICES SHOULD BE CHECKED AT THE DOOR. Blackmail is a bitch. Trust me when I tell you that some of the photos (and video) I have is nothing short of define. Even if you don't know these people, you will want to. Middle aged women dancing to "Lean Back". Oh yeah, it's hot. I think I have found my next marketing campaign. Can anyone say "MetLife Gone Wild"?

4. On any given day, you could stumble upon $100 bills falling from the sky in Westport.
Be sure to keep your eyes peeled at all times. There are typically no claimants to this kind of money. For what's $100 to a Westportian? Then next time it is raining, be sure it is in fact a rain drop and not a $100 if you are in this fine town.

5. Always find a way to purchase a gadget for a boy for Christmas...somehow, clothes just don't get them as excited as they get us women.
The fiancee found it necessary to return $300 worth of Polo clothing for a personal DVD player. We have DVD players attached to every HUGE television in the house. Why he finds it necessary to own one that is only 7", I will never know. But apparently, squinting to see who is getting shot is more fun than wearing a nice lambswool sweater. All screens are larger than 35" let me add. The only room where we don't have one is the one he shouldn't be in long enough to be watching a movie. If he is, I won't be going in there for a while.

6. 100 dozen Xmas cookies are way too many Xmas cookies for anyone to make.
Even with cookie exchanges and parties and having the holidays at your own house, you still have way too many left over. Even having a Fireman friend with a tapeworm didn't help. There is no reason to have this many green and red cookies with little silver balls on them. However, 90 dozen would do the trick.

7. DO NOT reinforce the gingerbread roof underneath with cardboard to prevent collapse. That's right--DO NOT.
Even if only for the pure enjoyment to hear your mother yell "The roof, the roof..." while her hands are glued together by gingerbread frosting. Sit back and enjoy the struggle.

As to any other holiday lessons, I will keep them to my self. I can't go and share them all with you. I hope everyone enjoyed the season. Now we can look forward to icicles and snow!

HELP WANTED?

2004-12-08T22:45:00.000-05:00

There are precisely 17 days left until Christmas. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Fa-la-la. As you can see I am very excited. Who wouldn't be excited. Christmas is the time of year when you can walk around with that ridiculous look on your face and nobody will think you are "special". Christmas is the time of year you can spend absorbanant amounts of money and it just might be ok. Christmas--when it is perfectly normal to have gold and silver anywhere there is an empty spot and your friends won't think you have been hanging out with your grandmother too long.

OK, so I love Christmas a bit too much. And it seems as though the older I get, the MORE I LOVE IT! Fa-la-la. I was hoping that this feeling in my belly every time this time of year rolls around (you know the one after you have eaten way too many sugar cookies, and you know that even though you're supposed to not want so many present s under the tree, you just can't help but think "more, more more"), would somehow subside as I aged, but man, it just seems to surpass itself every year. This year, I have some how convinced myself there must have been some kind of mix up at the hospital. There is no way I am not supposed to be working for Santa--the Man--himself. I mean NOBODY can do this great of a job on their house (pat, pat), and not someohow have a direct relationship with the fat guy himself. Nobody. There is always some slacker on the job--and I believe I should take his place. (You know its a male elf who is slacking).

You see, I am not one of those crazy freaks who believes they are an elf. Clearly, I stand above the height requirement. I simply believe that with a gal like me around, Santa could get a lot done. Have you seen my tree? I have to admit, there was a moment I felt a little bad for my tree. It was when I thought about what the tree must be thinking. Here it was a beautiful tree bred to be a glorious Chrsitmas tree imagining a few balls, some garland and possibly a few lights. 2100 twinkling white lights, boxes and boxes of handblown glass ornaments ONLY and glass beaded garland later, the poor tree was drooping like a 65-year-olds rack. Poor tree. Never did it imagine decorations like this. But, my house does look like Macy*s---and That even Santa would be proud of. (YES, SANTA I DO LIKE MACY*S)

After I realized my true purpose in life, that there was only one explanation and one explanation only for my true love of this wonderful holiday, I proceeded to break the news to my mother.

"Mom," I said. "I think I should have been an elf."
"You are right," she replied. "I told you a long time ago there was a mix up at the hospital. You were found on the doorstep".

Ummm...hmmm. I don't quite know where to go with this. Only that I hate the cold. And do they pay well with benefits? What do you suppose the Xmas party is like? Oh well. Off to decorate my house some more. I think I see a spot without gold. But first I must put on my new T-shirt which reads: Jolly Old Elf. Fa-la-la.

Movie Recommendation of the week: Elf.

The three things I learned today

2004-11-23T00:03:00.000-05:00

You would think that a day specifically focused on rest and relaxation would breed nothing but laziness. I am here to assure you that is not true. Today, in my various stages of recuperation, I was a witness to three tidbits of information. Before I subject you to a semi-lengthy blog, let me warn you, none of these are really important factoids. I don't want any false advertising going on here, so don't think I am about to let you in on a secret on how to split atoms or something. I simply want to share with you my amazement with regard to the three T's: Turkey, TV, and Ties.

#1 Turkey- I was checking my email this morning when I received this from the fiancee. I couldn't stop laughing. At first, I wondered if I was related to any of the people who called in. Then, I thought to myself, "Wasn't it just last week the fiancee and I couldn't get a nail we had hammered in out of the wall so we tried using pliers to shimmy it out?" There must be someone out there who thinks that is ridiculous. Still, I think wrapping a turkey in a towel and stomping on it to get it in a pot is probably one of the most hilarious sites I can envision. I can tell you that it would be at the point I realized the leg wouldn't fit, I would be dragging everyone down to KFC. Who can tell the difference anyway, right? This email I received prompted me to visit the Butterball website, which in turn prompted me to look at the FAQ's. Needless to say, some of the questions posed on the FAQ site just read really funny. A cheap laugh--that's what I got. I suggest you also have a look.

#2 TV- I watched my DVR'd Saturday Night Live tonight from this past Saturday. It has been a while since I watched the entire show. Typically, I either fall asleep or well, there isn't really an alternative. I am usually asleep. So this week we recorded it and I decided I needed to get back into SNL habit. I don't know what has changed in the past year or so but suddenly, it has become perfectly appropriate to say things I would never imagine on TV. This caught me off guard. I literally found myself laughing in hysterics and then stopping suddenly because I was so shocked that these things were actually being said on TV. Maybe I am nuts. Maybe the world is moving and I am not moving along with it. I realize that we are a society that allows for more sex and provocitiveness, language and violence than ever before. But, I was completely taken back at jokes about abortions and certain sexual innuendos. This could be a whole blog in itself. However, I will keep it brief and just mention it as something that completely blew my mind. A show that popularized itself because of the humor created around the ability to insinuate jokes rather than forwardly state them is now blatantly over using it's media power to provide comedic relief in a obtrusive way (in my opinion). Though I laughed my ass off for most of the show, I am left with those few jokes that really offended me and I wonder when will it be too much?

#3 Ties- As I ironed the fiancee's shirts tonight, I had the pleasure of going through the tie collection. I have been witness to the funny ties, the sport ties, the dress ties, and the hideous ties before. However, tonight I actually got my hands on all of them and realized that no person should have ever spent money on some of these ties. Now I realize that a long time ago, perhaps in 1992, a certain look may have been popular. But now that the time has passed, can't you pass the tie along to the dumpster? Why can't the fiancee let some ties go? As with clothing, there was a time for certain ties. Not all ties last forever. I can not begin to tell you the travesty that exists in this tie collection. I think one of them is actually designed to look like what comes up after my dog eats a bone and rice and it gets caught in his throat a little and he makes that "hhhcccckkk" sound. What scares me is that since the fiancee leaves before I do in the morning, and since he obviously doesn't feel the need to discard of these ties, the potential that they could make an appearance around his neck at any point in time IN PUBLIC, could potentially occur. Please, for the sake of us all, say your final good-byes to the ties. Ties are part of a wardrobe--they should be updated as such.

There you have it-the three T's that surprised me today. Not an overly important day but one that had some merit. Also this: my love for U2 was reinforced after watching SNL. The new album drops tomorrow and I can't wait. Turkey day is only 3 days away. Gobble gobble.

A Full Days Rest

2004-11-22T09:23:00.000-05:00

CELEBRATE THE DAY!!! For I have slept! It truly is a week to be thankful! Finally, after weeks of no sleeping, endless internet hours, pointless infomercials and tireless pacing, I finally slept. And it felt so good.

I was sitting at the 'puter and I looked over at my old bed. It was just sitting there, calling my name. So cozy and comfortable, I couldn't do anything to resist it. Here it was mid-morning and I haven't slept in weeks. I decided perhaps now was the time to give it a go round with the old bed. I mean that bed has always been there for me when I needed it most. Why not try to show it some love now. With my sweats on and my eyes barely open, I jumped right in. I don't even think I told the fiancee where I was or anything. I think I just shut the door to the spare room and got into bed. And I slept. I slept for hours and hours.

At some point in time the fiancee must have discovered me under a pile of blankets and still he just let me be. Good fiancee. Much to my surprise, not only did he let me sleep, but he completely protected me from the outside world. Knowing how rough it has been on me the past few weeks and how much I have needed some rest, unable to get any, he sheltered me from anyone and anything that could disturb me yesterday. It was the sweetest thing EVER! It didn't matter who needed what from me. It didn't matter how long they would have to wait to hear back from me. The fiancee protected me. Now I know this might not sound like such a huge deal, but when you have your immediate family living 2 doors away from you, it is very easy for people to always be at your house or calling your phone or needing something at all times. And because they are family, you always feel compelled to oblige. But not yesterday. Yesterday, the only thing I was obligated to do was sleep.

I had forgotten what good rest felt like. When I awoke, I couldn't believe how much better I felt. Certainly not 100% better, but much better than I had in some time. And now as I sit here typing this, I am staring at that very same bed and it is calling me all over again. Could it be possible that we could have another torrid love affair two days in a row? Is that fair? I don't know, but I may need to find out. Exactly how many hours more are needed for me to catch up on 3 weeks of missed sleep? And would it be appropriate for me to always sleep in a seperate room? Damn I miss this bed.

Wish List '04

2004-11-17T16:44:00.000-05:00

This year I took my time creating my Christmas list. I figured, it is the last year where I can salvage any gifts directed just towards me and not to "the hubby and the wife". So for weeks I worked on it until I got it just right. It's not that it is a huge long list or anything. I just wanted to make sure that what I had on it, I really wanted and I wouldn't find myself standing in a return line three days after the holidays only because I wasn't careful enough to put down "Sand" as the color of my Ugg boots. Needless to say, once distributed, I caught some major shit. These are some of the comments I received. As an additive, here are my responses as well:

"I don't want to buy that as a gift. That's not a Christmas gift, it's just something you get. "
What is the difference? If you need or want something, what does it matter when you get it? Since when are certain gifts for certain days? If you want to buy me presents all year round, that is fine by me, but I am just trying to cut you some slack here. You will earn points by sticking to the list.

" You have an expensive list there."
It's a wish list. Wishes are meant to be somewhat extravagant---that's why they are wishes. Isn't there something special about opening up a gift under the tree you hoped you would get but somewhere in the back of your mind know it is a bit impractical? That's part of the magic of Christmas. If you can't put something on your wish list, where else would you put it? Also this: sometimes people like to chip in on gifts. Enough said.

" There's a lot on your list. Which do you want most?"
I have provided you with a list. I have taken the guessing work out of it. Why don't I just go to the store and purchase it myself? Now you're asking me to put it in numerical order?? All you have to do is pick something---anything---on the list. It could be item #2. It could be item #7. Whichever it is, I will be happy. I am happy already. The only reason I have a list is because I can't seem to escape the question "What do you want for Christmas?" which I thought would end shortly after I stopped sitting on Santa's knee in the department store.

In any event, I don't distribute my list to everyone. I don't give it out with a "Happy Holidays! Here's my list" attitude. There are certain people who I know will be wanting to shop for me. And what's so wrong about telling someone exactly what you want rather than having to pretend they know you just so well they can guess what you may be wishing for this year? People compile lists for groceries, errands, accomplishments in life. Yet when it comes to having a list for Christmas, the one time you can acually say "Hey look, I know you might be planning on buying me something. I don't necessarily want you to, but if you're going to feel compelled to do so, here are the things I could use", why do we become so "put-off"?

Items on a wish list are meant to be different than the everyday things you buy. These days, as a working woman who is easily self-sufficient and doesn't really need to rely on anyone to purchase a gift to make me happy. If I need or want something, I go buy it. I don't wait. However, there are those few items that you keep to yourself and share only in the few weeks (or month) before the big holiday. These are the items you won't just go and buy. And if someone were to get them, well that would be swell. But if they aren't under the tree, that is fine too. I love Christmas for so many other reasons that this is not even close to being #1.

FYI-After being heckled about my Xmas list for some time, the fiancee began to send me his. Well actually, he keeps sending me addendums and what-not. I received one the other day with a note saying "This would make a good stocking stuffer". It was a $58 shirt. In all my years past, my Santa Claus stuffed my stocking with candy and socks, not $58 shirts. Perhaps now that I have moved to Brookfield, things will be different. However, you've got a better chance of adding the shirt to the wish list column. But choosing your stocking stuffers is definitely taking things a bit too far.

New York, NY

2004-11-09T16:36:00.000-05:00

Sunday I took my sister to New York to celebrate her 11th birthday. Even though I wasn't feeling up to par, I had committed to this day a long time ago. We had show tickets to Beauty and the Beast and were planning a wonderful day of "Just the Two of Us". It would be the last birthday the sister and I would spend together before I am married, after all.

Waking up rather early, we took a 9:10 am train from Brewster. I think this just may have been the highlight for mini-me. I can't believe how excited a munchkin can get over riding a train. Perhaps the years have aged me. But for me, riding next to a lady carrying 25 plastic bags with the smell of cigarettes pertruding from every layer of clothing on her body, has completely worn off. For the sister...it only added to the moment.

Into Grand Central we arrived. Of course I have to pick the day to go to the city when the New York City Marathon is occurring. Of Course. Though we pondered it, upon much thought, Mini-me and I decided against entering this year. I know, I know....we really should have reconsidered. But I think the Frrrozen Hot Chocolates at Serendipity would have ultimatley weighed us down and perhaps, left us just a few seconds shy of the South Americans at the finish line. Rather than brave the NYC traffic, I decided to culture the sister in the underground world of the transit system. Onto the Subway. We took the N to 60th & Lexington and walked just a few blocks to Serendipity. I had never been there before. What a perfect place for short-stack and I. Knowing we were there to enjoy the delectable desserts, we split a hamburger and dove into the largest mountain of chocolate I have ever encountered. I witnessed what it is like for one of those cartoon character's eyes to pop out of their heads, as the sister was in complete shock I would actually support her eating such a mound of sugar. "It's your 11th Birthday, " I said. "We'll take 2". With menu items such as Forbidden Broadway Sundaes and Frrrozen drinks galore, it is amazing we were able to walk out of there without sugar shock. I think I am perhaps in contention for the Greatest Sister Ever...which we all know is my ultimate goal.

Back on the sub and into Midtown for the show. We arrived a tad bit early and decided since we hadn't had our substantial fulfillment of chocolate, we would go to the Hershey's store. Though I must admit, even the child had been exposed too much by this point. We left without so much as touching anything.

Arriving at the show, the sister couldn't believe how close we sat. I have to say, I was a little impressed with myself too. I really didn't know we were sitting that close either. 5 rows back...nice job. Though I expected the play to be a little boring, I hoped it would entertain me enough not to nod off. I struggled for about 15 minutes and then was ok. I usually wouldn't admit this, but it's my blog and I can do what I want so what the hell: I have never even seen the Disney movie Beauty and the Beast. In one way, perhaps that is good. I ended up enjoying the show so much because I knew short-stack liked it. I think the look on her face at the scenery was probably the most amazing part. The child has been to 2 Broadway shows in less than 4 months. We're going to the Radio City Chrsitmas Spectacular in 2 weeks. I am beginning to think she might be getting spoiled. Perhaps she is. Then again, is there really anything wrong with that? It's not like I took her to FAO and bought her that Petite Mansion (see blog entry from 10/28).

The play ended at around 4:30 and we found ourselves a bit hungry (hey, it happens). Chocolate is not a substantial meal, you know. As we walked around Times Square, I stumbled into Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. I wasn't intending to eat there, I merely needed to pick something up. Mini-me seemed intrigued by the place, though, and we ended up staying. We ate at the a table overlooking Times Square. It just seemed like the day really couldn't have gone any better.

That day, I shared a lot of memories with my sister. A lot of people would think that because we have such an age difference, we really wouldn't have a lot in common. In fact, just the opposite. It's strange. There's this person who is all of 5 feet tall and she can identify with me in a way that not many people can. We share so many secrets and so many thoughts. I understand her and she totally gets me. Her humor is undefined and people are amazed at the things that come out of her mouth. Intellectual, witty, clever. All the things I would hope to have in a friend, I have in my sister. We celebrated her birthday on Sunday. But really, we celebrated our friendship and our bond, which only grows closer each and every day. And even though she may look up to me have this ideallistic image of her "big sis", I have to say that I have really begun to admire her as well. I don't know what's in store for the next 11 years, but I sure am looking forward to all the time we'll spend together.

Committing to the future...blah, blah, blog sheep

2004-11-03T01:01:00.000-05:00

After 20 years of marriage, I just learned that someone close to me is in a difficult situation with their spouse. They caught the other cheating...after 20 years of marriage?!?!? I am surprised by the act of who it is, I am not surprised by the fact it happened. And quite honestly, I am more bothered by that. Here I sit, at this computer, typing this blog, and I am not shocked. I am seemingly unflustered in any way. How can this be?

It's odd that this news broke to me today because it was on the heels of another conversation I had revolving around relationships and finding "the one", knowing that the person you are with now is your "soulmate" or the love of your life. Is there a difference? Can you know if you have found both, or if you have only experienced one, are you positive you have not allowed for the other to be experienced. That is not to say you are not happy where you are...there's no reason not to be. In fact, I believe it is where most people plant themselves: between a unconditional love for someone they share special life moments with and the dream of someone that might possibly sweep them away with hardly any effort at all. (The grass is always greener belief)

These days, you meet someone, you fall "in love" and after a fair amount of time and the pressures of what occurs around us, you usually end up engaged. And you go through the emotions of an engagement, planning a wedding, living this fantasy everyone gloats through the entire time. Yet, the true purpose of what this day symbolizes can sometimes easily be forgotten. And rather than re-focusing, we keep trucking along. Do we ever try to re-visit our doubts or our questions? Do we ever re-affirm our loves and our admiration for one another? Do we stop, think and realize that this day is not about a glorious event, but rather, about sharing a life with one person and ending the thought that those dreams can be shared with anyone else? It is about finalizing your choice. It's about coming to conclusions and possibly even some closure in some chapters of your life.

But still, I find myself wondering if this "you just know when" idea we are all supposed to buy into does really exist. I believe you may know it's right--now. But now is really all we have. We don't know what we'll want 20 years from now. We don't know who we'll be, where we'll be. More so, how can you expect another person to make those decisions for their life right now as well? You can be with someone now, with the hopes of growing together, as long as you are willing to accept the possibilities, you may possibly change.

I guess what I am trying to say is that while we all hope the person we marry is the one we will be with forever, well, I am pretty sure everyone goes into a marriage with that same belief. Yet, somehow, it doesn't always work out. Being with someone through the years means committing to them now and today, on an everyday basis, being true to yourself, and growing together. Part of that may mean knowing that "the one" might not really exist. But rather, THIS love exists, which is what you are committed to. After all, how can you measure the amount of love you have for someone, if it is the most you can ever love another human being, and go so far as to call them "the one", if you haven't had the opportunity to meet someone else by which to measure your emotions just the same? However, the key to ending your search is making your commitment...which shouldn't change because 20 years has passed.

MAKE A DIFFERENCE

2004-11-02T05:34:00.000-05:00

*****************

BE PROUD.

BE HEARD.

VOTE.

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If I already look like a ghost, do I still have to dress like one?

2004-10-31T12:29:00.000-05:00

Last night, in an attempt to make sure all my joints are still working as they should at the ripe age of 25, Luba invited the fiancee and I along with Megs and Big and Luba's fiancee over to her house for dinner. Seeing as though I can throw a rock and hit Luba's house from my own, I figured, what-the-hell. Besides, I am sure my couch and my bed appreciated the time off.

At first, I thought, "I have been wearing these sweat pants for 3 days. But I am sure nobody will notice one more evening." Somehow, a bit of my old self kicked in and I mustered up the energy to throw on jeans, a ribbed turtleneck and a fleece. As I headed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, my next thought was "Good Lord! Tomorrow night, children everywhere are going to be spending hours on make-up to look like this....to look like death. I should at least spend 5 minutes to look not-so dead." I think I may have beat my own record time at prepping to get ready. A little bronzer, a little more, chapstick and done. Nice!

Tonight, I am thinking I am going to get plenty of compliments on my costume. Just so you know, I am really not wearing one. But I am almost positive I will be mistaken as the ghost of Halloween past. I am back to my death look. It seems to be working well for me.

Happy Halloween!

Should Children's Toys Have A Price Cap?

2004-10-28T09:51:00.000-04:00

My Christmas season is never really complete until I visit FAO Schwarz in NYC on 5th Ave and Central Park South. There's something magical about that store. Going into it and seeing the toy soldiers, the working, larger-than-life clock, and all the different worlds that exist in one store. But last year I was severely disappointed to find out that the store would be closing and the space would be empty. FAO would no longer be there.

Typically, when we get the mail at our house, you would be hard-pressed to see me touch it much before a week of dust piles up. But today, the fiancee drops a catalog on my lap in an effort to possibly wake me out of the commatosed life I have been living. To my amazement, it was an FAO catalog. I used to love getting this catalog. It was filled with so many interesting toys all unique and special. Things you wouldn't usually find in those very commercialized toy stores. And there would be a few items that were for the people who had a few dollars more than the Average Joe. But for the most part, the catalog was just unique, and well-appreciated.

As I flipped through this come-back issue, I realized that this was not the FAO I had become used to. WAIT ONE MINUTE! WHO COULD AFFORD THESE GIFTS? I would have to remortgage my house for these gifts. "Welcome to our world of toys?" More like "Welcome to our world of debt" after making one of these purchases. Let's take a look at a few of the items from the catalog:

Item #1, La Petite Maison Custom Playhouse, $30,000. This playhouse has it all, heating, air conditioning, running water, even bay windows. My question is, wouldn't you just play IN YOUR OWN HOUSE? Let me get this straight, your spending $30K so your child can play make-believe as a house wife/Mr.Mom in their very own mini-house? I agree a kid should be a kid and doesn't need to know about the struggles of being a grown-up just yet. But I think a cheaper playhouse would suffice. How screwed up is this idea? You don't think that if you build this type of a luxury house the kid is gonna want to be in it a little more than usual? Damn, I wish I had that at 9. I would have never been home. I would have moved out at 9. Besides, you can't get most 7-year-olds to clean their room, who's going to clean their house? What's next, laundry service? What do you think the taxes on this house are? Hell, most people I know could live in one of these playhouses at 25, not 5. (They have 8' ceilings, you know). And if Santa has to stuff his not-so-petite, fat ass down the chimney, well, I think there will be some explaining to do. Need I say anymore? See Alternative house.

Item#2, Wild Zebra Rocking Horse, $9,000. Ah, every child's favorite toy at one stage or another. Usually, it lasts all of 3 days. My rocking horse was very similar...Actually, that's a lie...I have NO IDEA what it looked like. I was 3 when I rode it. DO YOU REMEMBER YOURS? What I do remember is that it only goes back and forth. Back and forth...that's it...nothing more to see here people. It's not a magic rocking horse. It doesn't gallop to Spain or to China. Well, only in your imagination and any horse can do that. Sometimes, I do that when I am bored at work. But it's just a rocking horse. Mine worked just fine at 3 and I have no residual impairment from not having the $9,000 one. So as the holiday helper I am, here's a link to a cheaper version. And, don't feel guilty about the "only going back and forth" bit--THAT'S ALL IT IS SUPPOSED TO DO. Even the one at FAO can't do more than that.

Item #3, Child-Size Mercedes SL 500, $15,000. OK, I am attempting to remain calm during this segment. Childen today have the pleasure of riding in pint sized vehicles designed to replicate the the vehicles adults drive. Typically, they are pink or have the "Barbie" inscription on them. But this has taken it to a whole other level. First, the child is pint-sized. They are only allowed to cruise in their SL 500 up and down the driveway. Looking to pick up a lady? Your limits shouldn't be set any higher than the UPS driver or the postlady/mailperson because you can't LEAVE YOUR DRIVEWAY. Perhaps one day you will get lucky and you can try your mini-moves on the gardener. But other than that, where are you cruis'in to? The bus stop? A $15,000 "car", (and I quote it because it is not legally allowed on the streets and therefore cannot be classified as a car but more a toy), is more than some adults spend on their own family vehicles. What ever happened to the Barbie Ferrari and the GI Joe Jeeps? Don't those suffice anymore? And no girl likes a man who doesn't know how to allocate his funds appropriatley (still packing the PB&J for lunch?). Also, if you're driving a SL 500 and you still need your mom to give you a bath? Umm, not scoring a lot of points.

Item #4, MORPHIS ESP MOTION SIMULATOR $300,000.00. A child living a life of such boredom or pressure that he/she needs to escape to the moon or another type of "reality" to get away from this reality, needs to address more issues than what he/she should be putting on his/her Christmas list. Correct me if I am wrong, but shouldn't Xbox and Playstation 2 be fulfilling a child's needs just fine at this age? Why do you need a virtual reality simulator? For $5, I can take you out for a dirty water dog or pretzel, make you shop with me all day for shoes, have you clean my house, make my dinner, and then tell you "You're Fired". Now THAT is reality. It would save you a lot. And you could put it towards wallpapering the petite playhouse or something. Besides, I was on a Motion Simulator in DisneyWorld this summer, and trust me when I tell you it's not all it's cracked up to be...you'll thank me later.

As for the rest of the toys in the magazine, there are some that are affordable. However, those are the same ones you can buy everywhere else. I guess the catalog served it's purpose though: it cheered me up. And during a week when I have been noticing all the trees losing their beautiful colored leaves and turning bare in preparation for winter's chill, Christmas will be coming upon us shortly. And my FAO Schwarz catalog arrived right on time.

Home Alone

2004-10-23T22:55:00.000-04:00

This week I found myself in a big empty house home alone. The fiancee was out of town with work for 4 days. I wasn't used to that. And although I must admit I was looking forward to a house all to myself, I wasn't quite prepared for the amount I was going to miss him. None-the-less, I was at home plagued with "the broch", so there was plenty of sleeping and Sex in the City viewing to do on my part. I am sure, some how, some way, I would find a way to get by.

Why is it, that when you are home, and sick, people, feel the need to call you ever so conveniently at the precise moment you are about to drift into sleepy-town land? Of course without their phone calls you would be left wondering if there were anyone out there who really gave a rat's ass if you still existed. But still, I always found it to be so ironic that one could go all day without a call and then only at that exact moment, the one where you have seemed to calm your lungs long enough to not gasp for air, the one where the hot tea has finally mellowed you into relaxation, that someone has decided to ring you. And what's the first question out of their mouth? "Oh, did I wake you?"

Still, my house was lonely this week with it's silence and lack of mp3 playing from the computer. I missed the little stubbles left in my sink in the morning (actually, I really didn't frequent the sink in the morning this week) and I am sure that I probably would have caught some hell for letting the dog sit on the couch with me (even if he was on the blanket, not touching the couch, and did a very good job at making me feel better). I guess even when you think that you can handle everything on your own, the comfort of having that person there makes everything a little better. I truely missed my other half this week. Though I am sure he much preferred being with 70 little kids than a coughing, gasping for air, non-mobile calamity anxiously awaiting her next nap.

Perhaps next week I can try my hand at attempting work again....oh, how I have missed it so. But first, I am going to attempt trying to go up my stairs without feeling like I am going to lose a lung. If that is a success, I'll give it a whirl at the big Snoop Dog building.

In other news: Buns and the designer were over to keep me company on Thursday night for a sleepover. Though they were a bit weary about catching the bronch. (which has since developed into the pneumonia and apparently Pleurisy (go figure)) they brought great excitement to my evening. Now that's friendship--anyone who would come 20 yards within someone who was coughing like me and stick around not just to hang out but to share pillows and blankets ...two awesome friends.

One more thing: Luba officially asked me to be in her wedding. I am so happy. I would be lying if I said I was suprised. But I would also be lying if I didn't say I wasn't honored. CHEERS! I guess this means I better kick this shitty sickness I have to the curb already. We have some work to do. Well, now that the fiancee is home and I can sleep better with him snuggled right next to me, I should be back to my normal self any day now--let's hope anyway. I don't do hospital beds well. Pleurisy? What is that anyway?

Ice, Ice baby

2004-10-18T10:55:00.000-04:00

Last night, z-fiancee, the plumber, Buns, Heffe and I went to a AAA hockey game. It was great. Our seats were spectacular. In any other venue, for any other team, they would have been considered premium. However, since we were at a Trashers game, I think they were considered "low budget" seating. In any event, I loved them and I want to always sit there. We didn't have to worry about Metallica Man yelling in our ear AND we were always on TRASHERCAM.

Okay, so this team wasn't exactly the Rangers, but still, where else can you get a couple beers, scream at people, watch a few fights, laugh with your friends and have your fill of sports all for less than $25? Besides the local bar? I think I have found a new hobby. I also fell in lust with the Zambonie driver.

The game was fun. The perfect amount of violence and hockey occurred. My guys won 4-3. I think we even watched one guy lose a few teeth. Though, I am semi-convinced he did open up a bottle of Tabasco sauce and poured it on the ice only to make it look like blood. You see, he wasn't hit that hard and he was down way too long. Tabsaco sauce--definitely Tabasco sauce. In our couple hours of fun and frolicking, we were on TV (showing our support for another sports team--"Da Yanks") , tried to win $100 by throwing soft pucks to center ice, and re-lived some finer moments of "Footloose" by dancing like assholes.

All in all, it was a great time. I am only left with one question: if a town is trying to restore it's image, boost it's community spirit and overall, have a positive morale, why the hell would they name a team after a dumpster?

Let the good times roll

2004-10-14T23:12:00.000-04:00

Again, I have found that I have been too busy to attend to my creative needs. Thus, I must wait until 11 pm on a Friday night to fulfill my duties. But never fear, for I have plenty to discuss.

Let's begin with the pure excitement and joy: THE CLUB IS OFFICIALLY COMPLETE-THE PLUMBER HAS PROPOSED TO BUNS! Let us rejoice! And in I will state this up-front because I am sure you are all wondering...he did in fact give her a ring..NOT a washer. But rather, a beautiful ring of such sentimental value, I cannot even begin to tell you how much happiness it brings me to even talk about it. I believe that they may have trouble getting the venue they desire...it seems as though Madison Square Garden books at least 3 years in advance so, I don't know what the Plumber is going to do about that. However, I am sure his nicely developed spreadsheet will put him on track. FYI--the Pope may also book up rather quickly, so you may want to get a jump start on that, Fireman.

In other news: last night I had a moment in time where everything stopped and I thought to myself "there have been so many good things this past week, I don't know how I could possibly capture it in words". However, I thought I would be doing in an injustice if I didn't somehow try. For one, as I mentioned above, the last duo in my circle of friends has become engaged, which officially allows Buns to enter our little "club". I can now share with her "porn" (a.k.a. Brides Magazine) when we gather for what the boys believe to be "just another drinking night). Hahaha. Silly boys. Just another excuse for us ladies to discuss dresses and details. Drink up, men. Drink, up.

In a related story, I picked out my dress last Friday with my mom. It was a fun day of mom and daughter togetherness which left Kleenex stock up a few points. I must have tried 60 dresses on. Each one having something special about them. But then there was THIS ONE. The moment it went over my head, I knew it was made for me. That was it--this is it. I have ended my quest and my wedding dress has been purchased, well, ordered. In a way, I feel bad for the fiancee. Little does he know that there will be days when he comes home from work that I will most likely be completely decked out in my dress. I love this dress. I cannot bring myself to store it in an attic...in a box...amongst Christmas decorations and old stuffed animals. No, no, no. This dress deserves a special spot. This dress makes me feel like a princess. He has his sports room...I will have my "dress" room.

And reason #3 this week has been tremendous: the Yankees are up 2 games to none against the BoSox. Last night when the fiancee and I were at the stadium it was pure and utter joy. However, I found myself a little frustrated by the 3rd inning at the constant repetitiveness of "Who's Your Daddy?" (of course in reference to Pedro Martinez's statement about the Yankees owning him). By the third I was yelling back (silently, of course---I wouldn't want New Yorkers to think I was some kind of weirdo) "Keeaary Muullligggan". THAT is my daddy. Get over it. Find something new to chant. At one point in the evening, while everyone else was standing up, waiting for Leiber to throw the last strike, I was just sitting. Sitting and listening and thinking "this is one of the greatest moments I have had all week". Somehow, I don't think it will be the last. It's been a great week.

Dumb things of the day

2004-10-14T20:04:00.000-04:00

Typically when I take my dog out it is after I have gotten ready and I am just about to leave the house. Yesterday, he just couldn't wait. So before I was ready, I ran down the stairs, threw on his leash, grabbed my jacket and ran out the door. As I was standing out there, my neighbor walked out and we proceeded to have a conversation. Mind you this is someone I hang out with! We chatted and as I began to walk back inside, I remebered that I had a banana clip (yes, I use a bannana clip--in the privacy of my own home--in the morning to hold my hair back) on top of my head in a very JAWS shark-like fashion. Good Day to you neighbor! I know you think I am hot now!

So then, I am driving to work and I have to merge with traffic at a stop sign--something I hate having to do because in some towns, people just don't believe they should have to let other people in "their" lane. So I am holding my travel coffee mug and drinking away and Mr. Nice Driver lets me in and rather than wave, which you should typically do to someone who is following the proper driving courtesy rule book, I naturally give him the 'ole "CHEERS" signal with my travel mug. As if we were in an Irish pub. What was I thinking? Well, I suppose I was thinking "Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of Rum". I have no idea what I was thinking. But hopefully it started his day off at 7:20 am with a laugh as well.

Sometimes you just need time

2004-09-20T09:35:00.000-04:00

It is no secret that the past few months have been a bit hectic in my life. With moving and summer and having a small country living under your roof, one's feathers can be easily ruffled sometimes. But this weekend seemed to be exactly what I needed to ground me a little more. There's something to be said for making a decision, whether good or bad and just sticking to it. Sometimes, we just have to let go of certain things and move on with others. And sometimes, making that choice means you can finally let go and enjoy what life has to offer. Doing so allowed me to actually have one of the greatest weekends I have had in a long time.

Let's begin with Saturday night in NYC. We start with z-fiancee and the designer gallivanting around the city shopping (particularly at Macy's). It has been a while since I have treated myself to a fine assortment of shoes such as this. It has been not so long since have purchased a pair. In fact, I think I bought about 4 pair this week! There are places for people like me. They usually start off with introductions like "Hello, my name is blah, blah and I am a shoe addict". Anyway, a few hours later, z-fiancee headed back to the Nutmeg state and a few more lady friends joined the party.

Off to Culture Club---a fine evening if you're into reliving your youth and dancing like an idiot remembering the days of the side-ponytail and tight-rolled pants. However, do not confuse this with the ability to have fun. There was plenty of fun to be had. We were even treated to a delightful rendition of Culture Club music by a Boy George look-alike. yeah--now who's the lucky gal? I thought so. The one think that is not so enjoyable: buying new shoes--very cute shoes I might add--and having such beverages as a "Top Gun" or "Purple Rain" spilled all over them. I like Purple Rain as much as the next guy but only when it is playing on the radio and only IN THE CUP. So learn how to hold your drinks, people.

Onto Sunday. My jacked up friend's ("The Rock"), younger brother got married. This makes me feel old. Well, one of the things that makes me feel old. The wedding was beautiful and it was such an amazing event. I can't believe this boy I have known since he was 11 is married! Man, where have the years gone? And finally after a few months of being a little pre-occupied with the bazillion other things that were going on in my head, I started getting excited about my wedding day too. I finally started to realize that through the good and the bad, this man was the one always standing by me. He was the one who never turned away, always had the time and even when I was weak, remained stronger than I have ever given him credit for. And we danced.

I haven't had such a great weekend in a very long time. and as I laid in bed last night I felt happier than I have in months. Happy, because he was there, happy because I know where we were headed and happy because I had finally realized that the things I contemplated being important, don't have to be worked at. You don't have to find time for them or schedule them in or bug someone about trying to find the time to make it happen because when you love someone that much, the way we love each other, I guess no matter how rough it can get at times, it's the moments you dance you know it makes it all worth while.

Do we mean what we say?

2004-09-14T21:24:00.000-04:00

Have you ever encountered a person who, no matter how good you are to them, somehow can find a way to hurt your feelings? I had this experience today. There are certain people in our lives who we just can't seem to be mean to. You can try and try and no matter how much effort you put forth into doing so, you just can't seem to say, "You know what? You're really not worth it." Because for some reason or another, that person still is completely worth it--even with the ups and downs. That person is still a very important part of your life.

But why is it that certain people just have it in them to turn on others? Seemingly, they feel as though that person in their life can be the one who they can treat you poorly at times and be the nicest at others? True, they know the other will always be there. And also true they might not believe that simple remarks or lack of consideration might actually be offensive or hurtful. But for the most part, I believe each and every one of use can pretty much gage the sensitivity factor in another--especially someone we have known over a period of time. Let me go further by saying sometimes we even play off of that factor.

How would the tides turn if that one person who usually doesn't have it in them to finally walk away, actually did? Then, and only then, would the other contemplate the effects of their seemingly harmless disconcern of emotion? And would it be too late? Because once you have decided that maybe, just maybe, it really isn't worth it, will you ever reconsider your stance? Or, will it perhaps be the decision that they have been pushing you to make all along?

What comes first? The other realizing they have someone like you in their life or you realizing you may not necessarily want all of them?

Mainly good times in Maine

2004-09-13T20:56:00.000-04:00

This past weekend the fiancee and I, along with the plumber and the girlfriend and another couple went to Kennebunkport, Maine. Not to hang with the ex-Pres or anything but for a fun, pre-fall getaway. A fine state if I do say so myself. We stayed in a newly renovated house that was all of 30 feet from the beach. Out the back door and there we were...our toes ever-so-nicely nestled in the sand.

It was a fun little getaway from the Nutmeg state. One which did not require too much thinking, which I am a huge fan of these days, and that required a large amount of drinking, which I am usually not a fan of these days. In any event, these are the Top 10 things I learned during this quick getaway weekend:

10. Owning a BMW means having access to electricity even when the rest of the area may not have it. Traveling places with an extension cord and a 15V cigarette lighter converter means you can be the only house on the block with light. But why? Turn the lights off anyway...it's much more fun.

9. If you should happen to "bite it" while playing touch football on the beach, make sure you close your mouth when you go down, especially while laughing hysterically. A mouth full of Maine sand does NOT taste any better than your own state's.

8. Always line the seat with a towel before riding long distances with the plumber. That way, you will be sure your ass does not adhere to the seat, much like a plunger does, when it puckers during the ride to and fro.

7. Jamaican rum is much like maple syrup. Eventually it will come out of the bottle. Just be patient. However, it tastes much like cough syrup.

6. You know, sometimes a talking GPS system can be almost as fun as soft porn. "Softer, softer, softer." Nah, you're right. Maybe not.

5. You are never too old to play Asshole. In fact, I think I finally understand it. And since when was it such a BAD thing to be the Asshole?

4. S'mores were definitely meant to be eaten with the lights off. No explanation needed.

3. Drunk people should not be allowed to sleep on the top of buy-bunkbeds. Getting up there is just too risky. A task that should only take 20 seconds somehow becomes attempt 3,4 and 5. How the hell did we survive college? Isn't this just a trap for your bu-bunkmate to get a cheap laugh? Bastards.

2. One person wearing a lobster bib is dorky. 6 people wearing lobster bibs is kinda hot. I think they are definitely coming in. Look out In-Style magazine. Lobster bibs complete the outfit. Only if they have butter dripping down them though.

1. 4 people+1 BMW+Luggage enough for 2 weeks+Kittery, ME outlets=U-HAUL

EXTRA EXTRA-quotes heard over the weekend:

"What A Dump!"

"Don't touch that! It's a Humpback Whale!"

"Softer, softer, softer"

"I like it rough, in bed"

"That's a yellow mustang"

BY INIVITE ONLY

2004-09-12T20:42:00.000-04:00

I haven't written in my blog for a while. A) because I have been extremely busy trying to maintain some form of a normal life; 2) Because every time I sit down and write about the million things that come to mind throughout the day, I forget them by the time the day ends; and Blue) Sometimes, I think even though I am publicizing my thoughts, maybe I don't want necessarily everyone to read them. Maybe, I just want an outlet. And maybe, I want some people to read them in order to obtain some interesting and insightful feedback but not necessarily in order to notify others of occurrences in my life.

So I have come to a point where I wonder if I should create an alter-online ego? And if I do decide to create that semi-private personality, should I feel guilty with letting some people in and keeping others out? Is it wrong to want to be discriminatory toward blog-viewers?

I find myself contemplating this decision quite frequently lately. Yes, I decided to write this on-line journal which obviously is viewable by pretty much ALL of my friends. And I suppose I could choose a method of release for my emotions and feelingsby just blotting down thoughts on a piece of paper and tucking it into a drawer somewhere hoping nobody will find it. But then again, isn't there some kind of purpose for why we write these publicly exposed thoughts and feelings? Hoping that someone who is reading this may have had the same thought at some point. Believing that maybe another can easily identify.

And then there are the repercussions. If you do decide to have the "alter-online blog ego", will some become offended that you have not invited them to share in your thoughts? Will they somehow feel that you do not feel close enough with them and still familiar enough with others? Do you value opinions of others more than theirs? Or, will they determine that a personality by which you know more about on-line, one which does not have so much complexity, one which is a bit more simplistic than the reality you confront everyday, can provide you with the purpose this blog was intended for in the first place? Your escape from everyday life.

Forgive & Forget or Forgive & Regret

2004-08-26T20:34:00.000-04:00

What is it about chemistry that makes us so delicate in the way we interact? When I was younger it used to be that "2 is company and 3 is a crowd". And now that I am a 25, I would have thought that this equation would no longer hold true. As it seems, it is still very much true indeed. This past weekend, I went away with 3 other girlfriends of mine. One-to-one, we have very stable friendships. Granted, some bonds are stronger than others. When we are together for short periods of time, the chemistry is fine as well. Everyone serves a function and has a role. We accept our roles and hold a conversation exceptionally well. But for some reason, this past weekend did not work out quite as I had hoped. Quite often, there were times of tension and bitterness within the group. And now that we're back, some of us have found it difficult to mingle with the others without offending any other people(s). I am finding it difficult to adapt to.

In the same light, why is it that people with whom we may have drifted from in the past can somehow find a way back into our lives relatively easily? I can attest to having people in my life who have somehow found their way back into my "circle of friendship" even after some not so good moments. For example, have you ever had someone who is a close friend but perhaps they move away, you lose contact and when you see them years later, you pick up exactly where you left off, as if no time has passed at all? What about someone you may have had an encounter with? Have you ever found yourself finally excepting that the past is the past and upon conclusion of that past, the future might actually be well worth all the BS you went through to get there? Sometimes we form certain connections with certain people that allow them to have a different place in our lives, in our hearts, than others. These people have a way of getting out of the "dog house", though they may find themselves back in it at some point in time. Yet others, can so easily rub you the wrong way that you wouldn't ever give them the chance to redeem themselves. Why is it we can so easily forgive some people for such big things and others we can't see past silly comments or actions?

What justifies our willingness to forgive and forget?

PS-Welcome back to my blog postings!!!! Sorry I have been away so long.

One more celebration...Horray!

2004-08-16T19:42:00.000-04:00

Well, it has been quite some time since I have wrote in this fantablulous little blog of mine. Perhaps it has been due to lack of news, perhaps it is due to lack of time. But tonight I find myself with both. The best friend is ENGAGED! Hip, Hip Horray! She and z-boyfriend (of which we can now refer to as fiancee #duece) went on a fun little family voyage of the maiden seas with 40 other sea mates. Argggg! Well shiver me timbers, they got engaged, unbenonst to the rest of us...well, sort of. We were all expecting this, you know, but weren't let in on any plans to do so. Could there have been a more perfect engagement place for the Luba and z-fiancee duece?

Pirate party for us all! Parrots, patches and planks...HOORAY!

The Woman and her Shoes

2004-08-04T16:00:00.000-04:00

There are certain moments in life that are momentous: your first car, your first kiss...Your first pair of fine Italian leather shoes. The other week I purchased the most divine pair of shoes as a present for all the hard work and well....who am I kidding, I bought them because I deserve them. They are beautiful. Black patent leather tip toe with black and grey tiger tooth cloth, 3 1/2" heel--absolutely breathtaking. And, as every pair of fine foot art should come, they came perfectly wrapped in a simple white box stamped with the most simplistic 13 letters a woman likes to see: M-A-N-O-L-O B-L-A-H-N-I-K. As if that wasn't enough, a taupe cloth bag keeps my brand new shoes nice and warm at night. Not only was I opening a box. I was opening a new stage in my life.

I couldn't wait to wear my shoes. But I couldn't just wear them with anything. These babies deserved to be worn in style. So I put them away--tucked in my closet, up on a shelf. They surely didn't warrant being amongst the other 100 pair on ground level. Over the next 2 weeks, I found myself visiting them occasionally, dreaming of the outfit that would make them shine. Until finally, I just couldn't take it. These little shoes were coming out of the closet!

Monday I wore my Manolo's and man did they look great. But let me tell you, when you're wearing a $600 pair of shoes, it makes your day a tad more stressful than usual. First, I didn't wear them outside, or to drive. Instead, I took them out of their box and carried them to my car. I placed them gently on the seat and drove right to work. I waited until I was inside to put them on. These shoes didn't deserve to touch gravel. Hell, these shoes didn't deserve to touch me!

Ok, so inside we are. Carpet, what can be so bad about carpet? I never noticed how much crap is on work carpet. These people are slobs. Avoid the scotch tape! Watch out for that staple! Don't touch the crumb from the left over coffee cake! Sitting at my desk I found myself debating my sitting position. Do I cross? Do I stay flat-footed? Or do I just simply cross at the ankle? I went with the rotation. Every time I swiveled, I made sure to pick-up, swivel, then plant. Wouldn't want to hit the shoes. Man, these shoes are stressful. But many compliments I did receive!! It made me wonder, how much stress is worth feeling your best? Finally I headed home, with the shoes off of course. Right away they went. Tucked in their nice little box, with their nice little cloth bag in their nice spot on my high shelf in the closet.

Yesterday I took my sister shopping. I bought her a little mini-wardrobe and a pair of cheap shoes. She doesn't know how good she has it. $20 and she can do anything she wants in those shoes. They aren't quite as pretty and they didn't come with a nice box or anything, but they will do. When we were out at dinner we were having what she described to me as a "fabulous shoe conversation" (did I mention how much I am loving this little girl more and more every day?). I asked her if she liked her new shoes.
To which she replied "Yeah, but I have my eye on another pair now."
"Which ones?" I said with excitement and joy in my voice. After all, she is just coming along so well now. A girl after my own heart. The apple doesn't fall far.
"Those Manolos I saw on top of your closet," is what she said.
I think I may have passed out for a brief moment after that. I have created a monster.
Stick to the Buster Browns, kid.

Plans for tonight:
1) Take dog out.
2) Cook dinner
3) Build a bunker for my shoe collection.

The fly and the car

2004-07-30T23:24:00.000-04:00

The other day I got in my car and noticed I was in the company of a wonderful fly. Well, this fly was not so wonderful. He felt the urge to keep buzzing around my head...Which I found quite distracting as I tried to drive behind the man who only felt it necessary to drive 25 mph in a 40 mph zone. As I swatted and and yelled, I wondered if the fly was paid by one of my friends to strictly annoy me.

The next day I was driving only to look over and see my friend the fly still swarming around. "Hello fly," I said. I thought perhaps we would get off on a better start. He could stay in the back, I could stay in the front. Surely, if Toyota can make a vehicle large enough for 5 people and a Bear, then this fly can find plenty of room to buzz in the back....and not near me! I was wrong. Seemingly, this fly liked me. And I did not like him.

Day 3--the FLY LIVES. How long exactly does it take for an insect the size of a pea to suffocate? I would like to find out. Any chance I could create a vacuum within my vehicle? This fly was also uncrushable. I think it may be part cocroach. Does anyone know if "bombing" my car (like you do when homes have fleas) would be detrimental to my health? As if I don't have enough to do while I drive.

WARNING: If you see a woman driving down the road while applying make-up, talking on the cell phone while bopping to music and swatting at the air...she is not crazy...well, a little bit. But just don't hit me. The last thing I would need at that moment is another task to do.

How long after vacation does it become only a distant memory?

2004-07-27T18:49:00.000-04:00

It was only a mere week ago that I returned from the sunny beaches of Florida. Well, ok, maybe it wasn't so sunny. But at least it wasn't work...or home. So how long exactly should it take one to return from the oh-so-relaxed state of vacation mind-set? Let's see. It took me about 3 days to actually get into vacation mode. And I would say it took all of about 3 hours to get out of it.

Within my first 5 minutes of work my boss approached me with "How was vacation? Thank god you are back." Good to be missed. Not so good to be greeted with a pile as high as my chair. Hold on, I am pushing a few things aside right nnoooow. Ugh--there we go. Within two days I was running aorund like a chicken with my head cut off, in at 7:30 am out at 7:30 pm. I think vacation may have actually caused more stress than de-stress. Is that the way it is supposed to be? And why is it that the older I get, the guiltier I feel about taking my very well-earned vacation? I work hard. I work damn hard. So if I choose to spend a few days at the beach, why does it seem as though I have to work almost three times as hard to catch up afterwards? Are those 5 days really worth the trouble? Well, even though my 7 days were plagued were rain, yes....yes, the stress was all worth it.

This week has not started out much better. Monday morning my computer got the mumps...literally. Are computer screens supposed to get blue polka dots? Are they supposed to stop working all together? Before I could even dial our helpless desk, around the corner came Cynthia to take my computer to what I can only imagine is much like a hospital surgery center with many computer parts just laying around. Only I think when all the IT people are behind closed doors, they are secretly laughing at all of us who are NOT MEETING DEADLINES because of the computer sickness. Come to find out, my computer was very, very ill. So ill, it needed major surgery. Today, my computer made it through surgery with a hard-drive transplant. We are working on building a new relationship together. Though I am not sure if I can ever forgive it for discarding my ever-so-diligently maintained address book. We made need computer-owner therapy.

The next big challenge of the week is company Summer Fun day. I think someone high up has been watching too much Office Space. Personally, resorting to wearing Hawaiian shirts would have been much more called for. How can we all afford to take 5 hours of what is seemingly "vacation time" to play volleyball? DEADLINES people...DEADLINES!!! I think I am of the conclusion that I might be the only person who really works at the Met anymore. Well me and the designer of course. But maybe it is time for us both to just take a little vacation. How much time will it take to catch up from a permenant vacation?

A moment of closure

2004-07-10T21:40:00.000-04:00

When I was young, my grandfather would take me to Yankee stadium on a regular basis. We'd go down at the crack of morning and wait for the players to enter the stadium via their designated entrance, thus allowing for young people, like myself to get autographs, as I commonly did. My grandfather was a great man. We had a closeness that few are fortunate enough to experience. My love for baseball, and the Yankees, is because of him. I especially remember the years the Yankees weren't so great--you know before everyone was walking around with a Jeter or A-Rod jersey. When Hensley "Bam-Bam" Meulens was playing OF and Steve Balboni was sometimes seen chugging around the bases with his beer belly. Those were the days George was lucky to see 25,000 fans in the stands. And still, my grandfather and I would wait in the cold and rain to see someone like Kevin Maas take batting practice 2 hours before the game would even begin.

In fact, in 2004, it is a little hard to admit but I was back then, Kevin Maas's biggest fan. NO REALLY! I was. I was so much that my entire room was decorated in anything and everything I could find bearing his name. I, in fact, was convinced that one day I too, would bear his name! HA! I collected everything that was made. I think somewhere I may even have a cassette tape with a very special Happy Birthday message using his voice. Not the Marilyn Monroe kind of Happy Birthday message but just one of those cheesy things they sold for probably a good $5.99 back in the day. Man, I loved the 90's! Anyway, my grandfather and I would go to the stadium and Kevin would always be so nice as to come over and sign for me. I don't know what it was about me, but he must have always been drawn to me for some reason. Maybe it was because I was the only one of those 25,000 fans who actually knew his name! Hmmmmm. Or maybe, it was because I was a kid, and he was quite possibly one of the last baseball players who still believed in kids being kids at the ballpark. For whatever reason, even though he was never a big star, I always remembered that. And to this day, I still have everything I ever bought with his name on it. I lost my grandfather a little over a year ago. But still, those memories of that ballpark and him taking me there are some of the fondest ones of my childhood. Somehow, Kevin Maas plays a part in that too.

Today, the fiancee and I went to the Yankee game. It was Old Timer's Day (which I always thought was a bit derogatory). Couldn't they think of something better like Yankee Greats Day or Legends Day? Old Timer's Day---Geez....a little bad, don't you think? Anyway. Who should be playing today? None other than Kevin Maas. Our season tickets are located 2 rows off the field in Left field. For some reason, Kevin was playing left field today (even though as all Kevin Maas fans know, he was the back-up 1st baseman for Don Mattingly). In my somewhat of a tipsy stupor, I cheered for him---loudly--and he kept looking over toward me. MAybe it was because I was a HUGE distraction ..lol. In any event, he ended up throwing me the ball. Right to me...Intentionally. It was a bit bizarre. After the Old Timer's game, he came over to the side and signed some autographs for the kids...typical Kevin style. I reached my way through and asked him to sign. He looked up and I said "you just gave this to me...I was your biggest fan". Without hesitation, I got the signature.

Somehow, today I spent the day with my grandfather and my fiancee. And even though this baseball player may not be the biggest name or someone who will go down in the record books, he has created memories in my life far beyond that of a Derek Jeter or Alex Rodriguez. I don't know why all this happened today, but I'm glad it did. And even though the seat next to me appeared empty to people around us, I know there was someone sitting there today. I guess it was my grandfather's final good-bye and his way of telling the fiancee and I "congratulations", in his own Yankee way.

My little town meeting

2004-07-09T23:41:00.000-04:00

Last night a town meeting was held regarding the sewer/septic issue at hand with three condominium complexes in the area. I decided to attended for a number of reasons. For one, I live in one of the complexes that are affected by the proposed plan. Secondly, the town taxes will more than like become an issue at hand within the next few months seeing as though a vote will become imminent. And finally, I figured talking about a shitter could be a very interesting way to spend my evening...well not really...but, town meetings always looked interesting in movies!

So off I went. Surprisingly, a fairly large number of people turned out for the event. I accompanied the neighbors. Although the meeting started out slow, I quickly became engulfed in the politics of this town I had grown to love. Ok, so here's the deal: the three condo complexes need a sewer system (currently on septic), it will cost money (to be paid for by the unit owners), it will do some minor harm to wetlands (as if the raw sewage isn't doing it already), it has already cost tax-payers a over $300,000 the past 6 years to fight this in court, etc. I won't bore you with anymore. Here's where it gets good. As with any good town political issue, there's always someone who thinks they are starring in a reenactment of "To Kill A Mockingbird" and it is their duty to stand up and yell above everyone else.

So this one man properly addressed the panel with his comment. To which the First Selectman did not agree with his comment and replied with a snotty remark and a gesture in the form of slapping the palm of his hand against his forehead and saying "Duh" after he explained his position (as if to say "it's an easy concept to understand"). It was at that moment an unruly townsman yelled from the crowd that she feels our elected officials should address the people with more respect. Then another townsperson stood up and said she should sit down. Then she yelled at him to "Go back to his trailer". One gave the other "the finger" and so it went on.

Let me just say that my neck is so sore today. I felt as if I was watching a great tennis match. Also this: I NEVER KNEW SMALL TOWN MEETINGS COULD BE SO GOOD. I think there were at least two times I almost caught myself motioning in the old Arsenio Hall way and nearly exclaiming "Whoo, Whoo, Whoo". Jerry Springer had nothing on this gang. Who knew talking about shit could be so interesting???

To the lady who told the man to go back to his trailer, if the man had a trailer, he would not be at this meeting. You see because when you have a trailer, you have your own shitter, thus not needing to share one with your nasty neighbors like yourself. To the first selectman, the next time you feel the urge to slap yourself on the forehead like that, I would reconsider. You are old. You are liable to severely hurt yourself. Then who would solve all our shit?

And so it goes that small towns do know how to have a little fun on a Thursday night. Sometimes, late at night, you can catch a replay of local town meetings. You know, those are the ones you skip right on by. This is an episode I highly advise all the locals tune into, should you have the chance. In fact, I give it 4 toilet paper rolls. I will be checking my local listings for the repeat. This might be worth that TiVo purchase of mine. Who knew small towns could have so much fun on a Thursday night?

A lady's down time is so divine

2004-07-07T22:55:00.000-04:00

There are few things more relaxing than a nice, not, steaming bath. After a long day's work, a week including my first yoga lesson and an empty house for the first time since I have moved in, I couldn't wait to immerse myself into 2 feet of bubbling water. All evening long, it seemed the only thing I could think about was the bath I was about to take...ok, well there may have been one or two other thoughts. But for the most part, in between the thoughts of Manolo's dancing in my head and what color to paint my nails, I was really looking forward to testing out this magnificent ceramic of mine.

As I began to fill my tub, I lined the room with candles (what's wrong with romancing yourself every so often). I grabbed my bath pillow (yeah, I am one of the girls who bought one) and began to strip down. But much to my surprise, I was met with an empty tub. Not one inch had filled my bath in the 5 minutes I had been gone. Now, don't get me wrong, the tub is large...very large...but not that large that it would take 5 minutes to gather an inch of water. As I began yanking up and down on the thing-a-ma-jig that switches the water from shower to bath (the fireman/plumber will kill me for blanking on the name right now), I discovered my thingy was broken. "OH NO!" What was I to do. I was a girl in crisis mode! I grabbed the phone and called the fireman who tonight was going to switch to plumber mode! The phone was off. Damn! My evening of romance had turned into so many just like it....over before it even began.

As I put back my candles and threw on my robe I wondered if an episode of SITC would help ease my woes. Poor me! No bath time for Nif. I guess things could be worse. With my luck, I would have slipped and fell getting into the tub anyway. Need I remind you all of the incident with the stairs last week. Perhaps a pool of water so close to tile is not the best way for me to relax after all. Then again, it would have been nice to find out anyway.

Carnies, Fireworks and Hangovers...Hooray???

2004-07-06T18:15:00.000-04:00

First off, let me apologize for my lack of updates. As one knows, it has been a week of craziness. Before I jump into the events of the Fourth, let me first start by saying I am glad that no one I know was severely hurt--though there were many opportunities for such an event to occur. I now know why fireworks have been banned in many states. I would also recommend a limit be put on the amount of alcohol a consumer is allowed to purchase the day before a holiday....what I mean is there should be a MINIMUM.

The week started off well with the fam still here. Though I was a little hesitant, I decided it was only suiting to introduce my sister to the world of carnivals (a.k.a. carnies). It was quite an adventure. You see, the town where the carnie was held is usually known for it's townspeople having less than a full set of teeth, so the carnies were really no exception to the rule. Visiting the carnie brought back such bittersweet memories of a childhood gone. And innocence left behind. AND BEING RIPPED OFF! Since when did the carnie cost 100 bucks?!?! Two dollars to toss a ball in a basket? Three dollars to bop a mole on its head a win a 4 inch stuffed animal I don't even recognize? Perhaps I am old, perhaps I have lost to many candy apples on rides, but I am hoping that one day someone will tell me why every ride is constructed to spin at an incredible rate of speed in a circular motion. Yuck! FYI-This blog's URL was named after a carnie incident many moon ago (Fun Fact #114).

As we scurried towards the gates, which I didn't think were ever going to close, I asked my sister and brother if they enjoyed their night of fun filled festivities and expensive candy on a stick. And as they carried their overly stuffed, large inbred looking animals out to the car, I informed them it was the last carnie their sister would ever be taking them to again. Next time, they can pay me $50 each and I can swing them by their ankles in the backyard for 30 minutes each. They seemed ok with that idea too.

Onto the Fourth. Actually, it seemed to be a pretty timid weekend. Of course there were the impromptu gatherings and the sipping of fruity drinks. Hanging out with the friends and listening to the fireman's stories of people in town being idiot's. But I don't think any story beat the one we witnessed right before our very eyes. As we lit off our illegally smuggled fireworks display, someone came up with a brilliant idea to light a bottle rocket out of their butt. Yes, you read correctly...a bottle rocket out of their butt. Now naturally, I know your next thought is, "Well it makes for a good base". WRONG! It makes for a terrible base. They don't take off. In fact, they just explode right there where they began. I don't know which is worse, watching the firework actually go off in someone's ass crack or knowing it is about to happen. There is something about the anticipation of it all that still makes me cringe thinking about it. And yet, I did find myself laughing my ass off...no pun intended.

Yet, I came to realize that at 25, how many more of these "fake" holidays can I celebrate drinking and staying up till wee hours of the morn? At what point do you become too old to celebrate anything past Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter (or whichever holidays are of your faith)? I think it really hit me when I felt as though I had been hit by a Mac truck. I was busted up, wrecked and I knew it had to be like 3:30 in the morning. I look down at my watch as I exclaimed the almighty "Oh God, what time is it?" and I noticed that everyone had this look on their face as I observed it was only 11:45 pm. 11:45 pm! I remember the days I didn't start getting ready until 11:45 pm. And now I am done by 11:45 pm. But you know what? I am okay with that. In fact, I am more than ok with that. In fact, there were more than a few times that evening when I found myself thinking about snuggling up with a good book or a classic movie rather than trying to live it up this one more time.

How old is too old to celebrate freebie day off work holidays? I don't know. But I guess on a day like Independence Day, I would have rather celebrated a bit more of my independence by educating myself about our freedoms or various cultures throughout the world. Instead, I spent much of it with a hangover.

Scared for life in more ways than one

2004-06-29T17:11:00.000-04:00

It is only Tuesday and thus far it has been an eventful week. As I usually do, I found myself out and about for lunch yesterday with my usual group of lady lunch friends. Strolling the streets of Westport, one grows accustomed to seeing certain sights: large hats, pretty dresses, and of course beautiful shoes. Driving the streets of Brookfield, one also grows accustomed to seeing the occasional dead animal. Now typically, a dead squirrel, a skunk, even the occasional cat is something every person prepares themselves for. But nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to encounter on my lovely lunch stroll.

While I was walking, one of my friends so calmly said "Hey, look at the bird". As I prepared to look at a beautiful bluebird or perhaps even a red robin, I couldn't have been more surprised at what I was about to see. Right there, no more than 18 inches from me was a pigeon that had so obviously died a horrible and ghastly death. No really---a ghastly death. This pigeon was as dead as a door knob. And it was huge and had apptrently dies from some kind of carbonated Seltzer (afterall, it is Westport) overdose as was apparent from his very swollen belly. I cowered toward my friend's arms and the only thought that came to my mind (which I regrettably bursted out loud with) was : "Oh dear god! Can I get that Mad-bird Disease"? Hey! Mad-Cow, Mad-bird, WestNile, Westport....they all end up dead somehow.

There was really no reason that this pigeon would be lying there lifeless in the middle of a very affluent town. It was not shot. It was not run over. It was just simply there. And very large. This thing was so large that I could have packed it in my new Kenneth Cole bag and taken it home for dinner. In fact, the fiancee probably would have mistaken it for a turkey it was so large. Wait a minute---maybe it was a turkey. No, definitely a pigeon. My second thought is this: it is the second time I have been on somewhat of a "nature" walk in which one of the ladies in this group of friends and I have encountered an uncommon dead animal. First, there was a turtle. Now the pigeon. I am beginning to wonder if the designer (that is how we will refer to this friend from now on) practices witch craft in her spare time. Note to self: straight pins are on sale at Wal-Mart for the designer's B-day.

I must have been still thinking about the pigeon this morning because I was paying no attention when I decided to go on a little trip....down my stairs. It was a one way trip for one on which I had no fun at all. I would not recommend going alone as there is no one their to pick you up when you arrive at your final destination. However, I took great pleasure in knowing that after all the raucous I caused, the entire house woke up (side note--currently, I live much like the Waltons with Ma and Pa and the sis and bro staying over for a few nights). The fiancee came to help me get to the nearest squishy seat. However, here's a note of advice, when your fiancee falls down the stairs, picking her up by putting her in a basket toss position is not the way to go. Are we cheerleading or helping here? And believe me, as much as I am ready for a pyramid mount as the next gal, I didn't know if he was getting ready to lift me up and over an open window or help me onto the couch. In the end, I think I walked to the couch while he followed behind me pretending like he was helping. The laughter he provides me helps me more than really knows and I love him for it.

Well, it is time for me to go now. I have an Xray at 5 and my shrink at 6. Thank goodness the fireman installed that ice machine the other day! Perhaps we can have chicken for dinner tonight.

The meaning of flowers

2004-06-27T22:20:00.000-04:00

We found out earlier this week that my neighbor is pregnant. Hooray for the neighbor. She is great. Her husband is great too. We often find ourselves sitting on our front stoop like a bunch of old people having a few drinks and laughing 'till the early hours of morn. In an effort to show our congratulations, I asked the fiancee if he would kindly pick up some flowers for the good news.

So, that day I came home and to my surprise there were 2 dozen beautiful long stem red roses. "How sweet", I thought. "Not only does he buy for the neighbor, but he hasn't forgot the maid who does the laundry and cooks the meals as well". I was mistaken. Z-fiancee had purchased the flowers for the neighbor. Yes. 2 dozed long-stemmed red roses for the pregnant neighbor. What was he going to say "I hear you're having Ryan's baby, but I just wanted to tell you that I love you?". Do men have any idea that there are different color roses for different sayings? Or is it simply my fiancee who finds himself confused?

The fiancee did go out and buy a more appropriate bouquet for the neighbor...ones that said "we heard to good news" rather than "I really don't care if you're having another man's baby". The roses are now in my living room. And I find myself having trouble explaining that they are really second-gifted roses, originally intended for my pregnant neighbor when people compliment me on them.

My best friend the fireman's sister-in-law just had a baby yesterday. I am worried the fiancee might try propose to her. Perhaps he needs to just work on the "congratulations" part of the English language.

Do true friendships require detailed blog updates?

2004-06-22T21:43:00.000-04:00

I was speaking to a friend of mine today who made me think a little about this very website. As we discussed the frequency of updates to our blogs, he mentioned how mine was "silly" while his was more intended to update others as to what is going on in his life. I realized that he was right. While my blog does tend to be a little more lighthearted, there is reason why I do so.

As I got to thinking, I realized that the purpose of my blog is not to update people as to what happens on a daily basis in my life. In fact, I think everyone has enough going on without having to worry about what project I have going on at work or what my weekend plans are. No, instead I find this space on the net useful for filling y'all in on the "silly" (let's go with that word) things that happen to us all that I have randomly decided to type about for a few minutes.

After all, should I really have to rely on a blog to fill people in on events in my life? And if so, how close of friends are they? If I can't find time to make that 5 minute phone conversation, then perhaps I should spend a little less time a typ'in and a little more time a 'talk'in. I don't know. To me, I guess true friendships aren't the ones we feel the need to update online. They're the ones you can still appreciate the silliness with.

Are you "that guy"?

2004-06-21T19:20:00.000-04:00

I was driving home today and got stuck behind "that guy". You know: the one who makes you want to pull over to the side of the road and hang yourself on the nearest tree. The one who you can't help but wonder if they notice they have caused a line of 50 cars to back up behind them. The one who seemingly disregards the speed limit is 40, and instead, decides they will proceed only at 35. I hate "that guy". I hate him even more when I am tired. And I hate him the most when I don't feel well. I wonder if "that guy" always finds himself with a line of 50 cars behind him (or her--as the case may very well be)? Is it too much to ask that if you find yourself holding back more than, let's say 5 cars, you simply allow them to pass? Why is it that we feel so inferior to those who want to pass us? Are we really that pretentious? Does the measure of our importance in life really depend on how many Dodge Neons or Ford Escorts we can "hold off"? Keep on truck'in Mr. Subaru, keep on truck'in.

It is safe to say that the only other person who made me feel more embarrassed to be a fellow licensed driver today was the man who tried picking me up while talking to me through his window and mine....while they were both still up. What an eventful driving day. I can only hope tomorrow I can get a truck driver to blow his horn at me when I give him the universal signal.

Does everything "go bad" in heat?

2004-06-15T22:38:00.000-04:00

Today I found myself questioning the shelf life of a substance I only think about 4-5 times a day: urine. Yes, I know, it's not exactly the most appropriate topic, nor the one everyone likes to discuss. But hear me out on this one. So I am at the doctor, having a test done for a UTI...and no, it doesn't always have to come from $ex. In fact, as he shared with me, it is quite possible it can stem from a simple change in lifestyle such as using fabric softener. Nobody ever got sick from a little static cling I say. So though I find the little bear cuddly and soft, I think I will have to abstain from now on.

Anyway, it's not bad enough you have to force yourself to pee into a cup the size of a shot glass. You must also roam the halls carrying what everyone knows is your own urine. How grotesque is that? As if carrying your own body fluid was not enough of a distgust, do you really think people don't know you're testing for some kind of problem only passed through a sexual act? Think about it. Whether it's a UTI, or pregnancy, nothing humiliates you more than displaying your yellow fluid for all to see. Well, except for maybe getting it all over your hand while trying to capture it in that small shot glass like thing. Has "designer pee cup" ever come to mind, anyone?

So after my doctor read the normal results, he decided he needed more info, at which point he wanted me to bring it to the hospital. So I took my little cup and sealed it in an "official" hospital Ziploc bag and headed to the hospital. Only, I had a few stops to make along the way. They were quick stops and I thought, if my urine can stay trapped in my body all day long, it sure can withstand the car for a few minutes. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about the heat and the effect it could have on my not-so-regular pee today. So I made sure my stops were short and sweet. Man, this urine thing was making me neurotic. After all, does urine have a "shelf life"? More importantly, we can put men on the moon, by why can't we make urine specimen cups that you can't see through? Just a thought. I eyed my watch the entire time and really didn't have tie to do everyhting I had intended. I even parked illegally when I arrived at the hospital.

Finally my sample made it to it's final destination where I can only imagine it is accompanied by other samples of the like. Man, my urine really got around today. I can only hope they don't call me tomorrow wanting more because I let it go bad.

PS-CVS is having a sale on fabric softener...I recommend the FDA ban it.

New addictions can be very, very bad

2004-06-14T12:10:00.000-04:00

OK, so I might be the only one in the world who has just discovered the greatness of "Sex in the City". I know, I know. But what can I say? It took me a while to move the rock that I was living under. And now that I have found it, I don't know how I survived the past 6 years without it. Do my friends know me at all? I mean I can't understand how it is possible that I was not strapped to a chair and forced to watch at least one espisode during the last six years. Completley dumbfounding.

In any event, I borrowed the first season on DVD from a friend of mine. I sat down Friday night with my cozy Chenniele throw and after 15 minutes, I was hooked. This was the greatest show going! I couldn't wait to watch more. But there's problem. Why suddenly after watching this show for all of about 3 hours do I feel as though I can live the same lifestyle as these 4 single gals? I am not talking about the $ex by the way, though it did make me miss single life a bit, but the shopping the gatherings the lifestyle. All of a sudden, I felt like I should be able to go to gallery openings and trips to Venice and things of the like. Yes...I am delusional.

The following day, I joined one of my clients at the local private Marina. She explained that her and her husband had just bought a place in Spain. I couldn't help but think to myself a) "I should buy a place in Spain" b) "I was on my way to becomming the 5th lady" and c) "who the hell was paying for my place in Spain...and my next drink?"

I can see this show is going to be a problem.

If only my feet could detatch themselves from my body

2004-06-13T08:23:00.000-04:00

Shopping for me is like a sport. I start out of the gate strong, looking my best and heading out with the intent to win...or well, spend..as this case may be. But by the end of the day, I find that, the shoes that looked just perfect with my ever-so-carefully chosen shopping outfit, are molded to my ever-so-swollen feet and my credit card is no where near the spending amount I wanted it to be. Poor me. Shopping wasn't as fun as I had hoped. And if they could, I swear my feet would detatch themselves from my body and find a new person to live with. They hate me. Especially when I tempt them with thoughts of more comfortable, much less stylish shoes by walking into visit their very far removed "cousins" in sneaker outlets. But hey, if I am not going to feel like Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman" spending money, you can bet your a$$ I am going to try my hardest to look like her. Too bad feet! Start Walk'in!