Spaghetti and Truthballs

2007-07-17T17:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, my conversations are so sublime that I have to post them here for all the world to see.

Me: I am the prettiest thing that has ever crossed the sheets of your bed.
Him: I know, am I the prettiest thing that has ever crossed the sheets of your bed?
Me: No. But you are pretty on the inside.
Him: Well thanks.
Me: Fact is fact.

2007-07-09T12:43:00.000-07:00

Really.

Yes Really.

I don't like to be told no.

I don't respond well to criticism, or anything less than adoration...

Is that an issue?

2007-07-08T12:24:00.000-07:00

I am a ballsy bitch.

But I feel confident that if I were to say everything that came to my mind, I would be completely alone.

2007-07-05T13:04:00.001-07:00

For some reason, I am opposed to tiles of blogs. I don't know when it happened, or maybe I am just opposed to them because my wit is running low lately. I don't know.

I am in a funk. I have been in this funk for five days. Its a little better, but still in a funk.

I am standing at a crossroad in life. I graduate, God willing, in five weeks. I am scared. Some people like to tell me that this is normal. I don't care what is normal. There are extenuating situations that make this very sad. Not just scary, but sad. I will be seperating myself from a piece of my soul in five weeks. It hurts. I know it's coming, and it hurts.

I have to move forward, and if I have to move forward, then I can't leave a piece of my life in a stunted position. There is the prospect that I may have to leave something I adore. That hurts too.

I am getting older, and that means my parents are getting older too. That is scary.

I don't have a job. I am afraid.

It is time to see if I can fly. It is time to see if I can do all that I claim to be trained to do. I need room to grow. I need to be better than I ever have. And yet, I don't want to go.

2007-06-24T12:25:00.001-07:00

If I could change just one thing about my life...

I would go back to the beginning and apply myself.

Maybe that is something I will master in year 26.

Seriously

2007-06-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, I was only small in stature, I had some very large opinions... And even still, a larger vocabulary, and at any given point, I would proclaim "My Daddy is The Best Daddy in the World."

I was dead serious. I knew I was right.

My daddy was the picture of patience.

And the picture of unconditionality.

I still remember the night before kindergarten, I was so nervous I couldn't sleep. He sat up in a chair with me and held me all night long, never upset, never frustrated, never even angry when I would wake up every time he set me in my bed. He would just pick me back up and hold me.

I don't tell him all of the things I remember, I don't really know why. But I love him, he is my number one guy, always has been, and always will be.

Happy Fathers Day to all of the great men in this world, especially my daddy.

2007-06-14T06:55:00.001-07:00

Brain Metabolism Peaks at age 4.

I am 21 years past my prime.

There is only one thing to do: Drink.

The end.

I wish they all could be California Girls.

2007-06-11T20:01:00.000-07:00

My daddy had his knee replaced six days ago, and now he is having issues with a large intestine infection. His knee is doing well, but for my mental health, I need for him to be all better. Since I was in my early teens, my father has been telling me that he was going to die by the time he was 70. I am not sure where he came up with this thought, but he did. I hate it. I hate the thought. I wish he had never said it, but every time something tiny happens, I find myself praying to any God that will listen for his safety and health. I need for him to be OK.

I was driving to class and I almost lost it, because I started thinking about what a great father my daddy is. I know I am biased. But my Daddy is, and always will be, my number one guy.

And then to top it all off
I broke my 'I miss scott' mug today.

And even though I know that it is a three dollar mug from IKEA, its my mug. It is my mug, and it is my mug that reminds me of Scott.

And even though it isn't the issue at all, I cried like I just dropped a ten carat diamond down the drain. The mug isn't the issue, but sometimes, the little thing catches all of the tears.

Moody looks like this:

2007-06-07T18:26:00.000-07:00

I am annoyed today.

I am annoyed that the beastly Paris Hilton got out of jail because she didn't feel that it was suitable to her needs.

I am annoyed that people like that are popular, thus teaching our youth that it is better to be dumb, blonde, and thin, than it is to be smart and anything...

I am also a little sad today,

I miss my friend, and I want him to return to the land of Dallas.

I am sad that I have to clean up after people that should know how to do that on their own.

But lets not lie, today is a good day too.

Why?

I got a job. Yes, friends, a job, a job that actually might have a shot at supporting the lifestyle that I have so carefully built.

HOOOOORAY!

and, as for Paris, go back to jail. You are a moron.

2007-03-17T17:18:00.000-07:00

The time has come for me to stop playing with fire.

Even if it is proverbial, it will still burn.

I consider myself to be an intelligent human, so its time to use those brains for the greater good.

Call it a Saint Paddy's day resolution.

2007-03-09T05:54:00.000-08:00

Here is a fact.

If I get one more stomach virus this year, I am going to deeply consider the notion of ripping out my stomach and large intestines. I will sell them on ebay or something.

An Open Letter to the one who (thankfully) got away.

2007-03-03T19:14:00.000-08:00

Its been a while, old friend.

And though memories are not in short supply with us, a future is just not in the cards.

We have to leave it where it died.

It is just best that way.

What you think is true, you were lucky to have me, and I can do better than you.

This is how it works

2007-01-17T19:41:00.000-08:00

I have recently fallen in love with the sound and words or Regina Spektor.

Especially this set of lyrics:

"This is how it works

You're young until you're not

You love until you don't

You try until you can't

You laugh until you cry

You cry until you laugh

And everyone must breathe

Until their dying breath

No this is how it works

You peer inside yourself

You take the things you like

Then try to love the things you took

And then you take that love you made

And stick it into some-

Someone else's heart-

And walking arm in arm

You hope it don't get harmed

But even if it does

You'll just do it all again"

Lately, I have been a reflective matter of goo. I do that occasionally. So if I get all philosophical on you, here is my appology in advance. And do yourself a favor, go invest in Regina Spektor. CD, I Tunes, Whatever... All I know is she is amazing.

Yeah, thats right. I said when, not if.

2007-01-16T10:28:00.000-08:00

I wish I had said if, not when.

But I get this feeling that your complacency is going no where.

Prove me wrong. I beg of you. I plead with you. Prove me wrong.

Please Prove Me Wrong.

Fire

2007-01-15T10:28:00.000-08:00

It keeps us warm and it burns us too.

That is all.

Think of this as one of those idiot tags on blowdriers, cautioning you not to use them in the shower...

Hello Good Sir... I know you are evil, we need not pretend.

2007-01-11T21:17:00.000-08:00

I Don't know if I have ever told this story before... But today, I am in the mood. (This story has not been altered to protect peoples identities, and facts have not been falsified. Yeah. It really happened.)

Once upon a time in a land called Fort Worth in the year 2001, there was this fair collegiate maiden named Ms. S'Ghetti. Ms. S'Ghetti had HORRID taste in men, and liked to date the likes of frat boys and bar flies. Especially if they had an enchanting accent or a fabulous last name. One day, she met someone who fit into all of her categories. He was a frat-boy-without-a-home, irish, barfly, with the last name of 'savage'. They flirted, they flirted more, and then he introduced her to his girlfriend. She didn't care, because nobody could rain on her parade. So she continued to flirt without touching until the girlfriend was turned into an evil rodent and skulked off into the night. Then she dated the barfly herself. One day, she was heading to his magical dorm room, when she encountered a note on the door. It said 'I've moved back to Ireland, I left this morning. I will miss you, but I know you hate goodbyes.' The fair maiden was PISSED. But, in typical fashion, she moved on, and flirted via email for many many years to come. Fast forward to now. The irish boy returned from his stint in the homeland, and has mercilessly tried to court the fair maiden, who has incedentally grown a brain in the last few years and will have nothing to do with him. He grew desperate, and had a friend leave a message on her voicemail feigning to be a suitor that met her the night before at a bar. The fair maiden has decided to climb upon her white horse with her trusty partner in crime and show up at the barflies haunt. Bad idea? Yes. Makes for a fantastic story? Absolutely.

So, if any of you care to see this tragedy unfold for themselves, you just say the word. It will happen tomorrow.

An Anger that Overwhelms.

2007-01-10T19:42:00.000-08:00

I just watched my brother tear into my mother for no apparent reason. Any time that happens, one thing overcomes me.

Blind Rage.

To add the whipped cream and cherry to the proverbial sundae, he did it in a completely inappropriate setting. The shittiest thing about my brother: You can talk back when he is in that 'zone' and he will never hear you no matter how loud or soft you speak. It makes no difference.

I have realized something today. I don't know the root of it, but I will with some investigation. I need to dig deeper, but the blind rage is preventing me from doing that. The only thing left to do now is sleep.

On the topic of Rosaries as fashion jewelry.

2007-01-06T19:37:00.000-08:00

I swear. I swear. This conversation could not have been made up. It transpired between a friend and myself on New Years Eve.

Me: Oh heavens. I love that necklace.
Her: Thank you. I got it for christmas. It is the Swarovski replica of Jackie O's cross.
Me. Damn. I can't wear a cross. That would be too strange. I am, however considering purchasing a rosary to wear as fashion jewelry, in the famous footsteps of Madonna. Wouldn't that be appropriate.
Her: Appropriate? No. What you should ask is if it would be lovely. It would, in fact, be lovely, but certainly not appropriate.
Me: Wouldn't it be lovely?
Her: Yes, Rebecca. It would be lovely.

So today, I googled 'Lovely Rosaries' and I have made my selection for the new addition. Without further aideu:

My lovely rosary. Note that it is topaz, same as my birthstone. I am not keen on the cross part, but I feel that it could be changed out with little effort.

Some people seem to have a problem with this, take my new favorite christian heathen, Mrs. Betty Bowers.

**Please note. I may at one point purchase a rosary, but I will certainly never actually wear it as a fashion statement. Please do not take this as your opportunity to question my faith, as I can actually recite the entire rosary prayer, so in my book, I have every right to own one. The end.**

2007-01-06T07:03:00.000-08:00

It is humorous to say the least when movies simplify things beyond all worldly possibility.

I watched a movie that made breaking up look as easy as baking a cake. It made me giggle even further because I have been witness to the tango of a break up for months now. To the point that I deeply believe someone should get a shotgun out and put them both out of their misery.

So the movie sums it up to 'You stay with someone until you don't love them anymore. And then it is over.'

That definately makes it easier. I am definately loaning that movie to my friend that can't seem to quit dancing.

The Prelude to my Prayer

2007-01-05T11:49:00.000-08:00

I don't hear their prayers... I only hear mine. I wish I heard both.

I forget to say thank you for the things that I have been blessed with. I forget to appologize for the things that I don't mean. I forget to tell you how much it means that my gift in this life is not to sit behind a desk, or to do something aesthetic. I forget that my gift from god acts as a gift to others too. I am sorry, and thank you.

Sometimes I get scared. Sometimes I get consumed. I shouldn't be either, and I am working on that. When I carry out my gift, it shouldn't matter that I can't afford the finer things in life. It still does, and I am working on that too. I wish every day that something would change about the fiscal end. Even if it doesn't-- I will still try.

I can't judge my ability based on the ability of the whole that I represent. I do that. I shouldn't.

I can't get mad for the things that people don't say. I do that too. I wish people would say what they meant. I will try very hard not to get mad about the things I wish with all of my heart that they meant, but in the end, they don't mean.

I will try to look at all failures as blessings. That includes the one huge failure of my past that will probably haunt me until the day I die. I know why it haunts me. If it didn't haunt me, I may have forgotten already, and that is something I definately don't want. So thank you for that too.

Make them know that they are the bravest girls in the world. Make him know that he didn't save my life, but definately made me believe in things I had stopped believing in all too long ago. Make her know that I will love her until the end of time. Make her know that I will forever be in her debt for all of the sacrifices that she has made. Make him know there is something better for him, and make him know that even if a family is never formed for him-- he will always have a place in mine. Make those boys know that they have given me more peace and happiness than I could ever have imagined. Make them all know.

2007-01-02T08:22:00.000-08:00

This place had been poisioned for me. I think it has been affectively saged.

I know all of my loyal fans have been awaiting my triumphant return. And it is here.

Just another new years resolution, I suppose. ;)

None, Never any.

2006-12-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

I am so depressed today.

For those of you who don't know, I pretty much had two mothers growing up... My mom, and her best friend. Her best friend was incedentally my best friends mother.

Every summer, of the 100 days, we would spend probably 96 of them together. For at least 8 years in a row. Then she went to college, and then I went to college, and time kept passing and we kept growing.

Then she got married, and I stood at the front of the church with her. Then I got married, and there she was like we had promised each other we would be ever since we were tiny people.

To the best of my knowledge, that was where our promises with each other ended. They didn't cover the divorce to follow for me, or the child that followed for her.

I just got a myspace message asking that we don't do christmas gifts this year. You have no idea how depressing I find that notion. And yes, its so dumb to be depressed about something like that.

I know, in my heart of hearts, if she were to call and ask me for the world-- I would scrape up the very most that I could offer and be on her doorstep before the Pizza delivery man. And I know she would do the same for me. But I also know, that now, with all of the time that has passed, she would not call me nor would I call her.

Time may be the most powerful medicine, it will always have a way of changing, or healing, or wisening, or aging, or disguising... It does it to everyone. I hate being a 'grown up' if loosing your childhood is what it means.

Viva Las Vegas

2006-12-04T08:37:00.000-08:00

I am back from Vegas, quite a bit lighter from the amount of money that has fallen into the black hole that is Vegas... But at least I have pictures!

Bryan and I just arriving, me sans makeup....

The Bellagio Tree...

The Ceiling at the Bellagio... I want.

The view of the fountains from our hotel room...

Bryan and I mourning the loss of our Beatles LOVE tickets, but celebrating the acceptance of our ZuManite Tickets...

My very favorite part of the hotel accomodations... A very large Jaccuzzi bath.

And in case you are interested, this is me when I get old...

Vegas rocked. Cirque De Soleil ZuManate was in one word, amazing. One show that I feel confident will never leave the confines of Las Vegas due to the nakedness. Worth the trip in itself though...

I Believe

2006-11-12T07:43:00.000-08:00

Twenty Five years... In fifteen more, I will be forty.
Not to worry, these years have not been wasted... I have learned lots about myself and this precious little world...

I Believe...
1) Friends are your most precious resource, and you should treat them as the finest of treasures.

2) Lots of people will say that they are your friends, but it is only true 10% of the time, and it is only up to you to distinguish the difference.

3) Real friends will hurt you, and you will hurt them... It is human nature and it should not change your love for them.

4) Love is a complicated mess of emotions, even when you don't mix sex into it.

5) Sometimes, love isn't..a complication..you need in your life... Sometimes, it is all you need to complete your life.

6) You should give more than you think you have to give, always.

7) You have to do things for people that you don't want to do when you don't want to do them, but only if you love them.

8) We should.. be better than we think we can be, but never mistake ourself for the best.

9) It is easier to not believe than it is to truly believe.

10) People will show their true colors, no matter how hard they try to hide them.

11) You are in charge of discovering your personal fable, and there will be no one to tell you if you are right or wrong.

12) It is acceptable to be angry, but completely unacceptable to say things you don't mean...

13) You should appologize when you are wrong, even if you hate to appologize.

14) Every one deserves a second chance, and even sometimes a third.

15) No matter how smart you are, and how smart you become, there is always more to learn.

16) Life is a series of choices... You must live with yours, so be certain that you like them.

17) Doing what feels good is usually only good for the moment.

18) Being quick to judge is not usually becoming.

19) People are good at their core, but it often gets discombobulated as they pass through life.

20) Some things should be celebrated with the utmost joy and compassion.

21) History can be rewritten and relived...

22) Friends can become your family.

23) You know a true friend when you can have just as much fun doing nothing as doing a huge something.

24) Somewhere in this world, there is someone who was presented with the exact same opportunities as you, but made different choices.

25) In the end, it is only you. It is your choice to dance on tables or sit in corners, it is your choice to make babies or make art. It is completely, 100% up to you. And we only get one chance.

Happy Day before my birthday day to me. Thank you to everyone that has made my life as enriching and fulfilling as it is.

I love each and every one of my friends, all in very different ways, and I know that I am one of the luckiest girls in the world.

Chock Full O' Fun

2006-10-24T07:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was divine.

I met up with my other half of haloween, and we went shopping for the remainder of our costumes. Ballet shoes, tights, purses to fit the era, and a stop in at the Paul Frank and Paciugo store. Halloween has gone from divine to ridiculously over the top. I am ecstatic.

THEN...

Target. Where I am the proud owner of another bra that I don't need. Its red. I love it.

BUT THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE EVENING...

We met up with the red haired one for dinner. Which was mediocre. But the post dining trip to the local over 18 toy shoppe afterwards to find fishnets for haloween was divine. I learned so much about the new innovations that um... Shake rattle and roll... To the tune of your IPod. My other favorite thing was their ode to a museum set up that featured 'massagers' from different eras. Thank the heavens for the technology tonight, ladies. That place is always a mood elevator. Especially when shared with friends.

You call it a want, I will call it a demand.

2006-10-20T11:54:00.000-07:00

For my birthday this year, I have but one request.

I want every single one of my birthday gifts wrapped in bubble wrap.

Until then, this will do.

So let me get this right... You are god?

2006-10-18T11:29:00.001-07:00

While reviewing my facebook account today, there was a new group entitled 'So let me get this straight, a child must die so you can live as you wish?'

Assholes. All of them.

I am not going to sit here and preach my pro choice or pro life campaign issues, as that would be all too much for most to handle seeing as how I work at an adoption center where those brave women give their children to complete strangers... But I want to go apeshit every single time.

IF you so choose to be pro life, I support that. But please, for the love of god, stop partaking in trivial things like putting trite bumperstickers on the back of your car, or joining groups that just bitch, or even chastising women that make the other choice... Put your money where your mouth is and donate to a charity who is making these things possible.

AND here is the other biggie. Don't look down on people who don't make the decision you think you would. You couldn't possibly have a clue until you are there.

So let me get this right... You are god?

2006-10-18T11:29:00.000-07:00

It is the most wonderful time of the year

2006-10-13T06:35:00.000-07:00

Oh how it thrills those that love me that I am positively ridiculous about my birthday.

But really, it is a most special holiday. And this year, it is even more special. This year marks the quarter-century of me.

As of now, festivities are as follows:

Saturday, November 11- Some joint birthday thing that I don't care to discuss, as anyone who knows me knows I don't like to share my birthday. But alas, it is what you get when you date someone whose birthday happens to be four days before yours. I am bitter about that too for anyone keeping up.

Sunday, November 12- Brunch birthday celebration, which shall last through the afternoon and evening with alcoholic bliss all around. (P.S.- Detroit boys, you must arrange it so we see your shining faces this weekend.)

Monday, November 13(Also known as the day I actually made my debut)- Tapas and wine at Cafe Madrid, or somewhere that is about the same as that... The idea is tapas and wine.

And then... VEGAS, baby, VEGAS! I think this is going to be a very good year.

Love is in the Air

2006-10-06T13:02:00.000-07:00

I have just renamed my not-so-celebrity-but-celebrity-to-me crush.

While at the bookstore, I was parusing the card rack. One encompassed a fascinating quote from someone I have never heard of before.

His name: Solbeam. I thought I may have missed something in the ways of literature, so I set off on an internet search.

Turns out he is a man who has a live travel journal documenting the international pursuit of a Personal Legend.

For any readers of The Alchemist, you will recognize the term 'Personal Legend.'

Anyways.

I have wrapped myself entirely in the readings of his travel jornal, because he is fascinating. Without further aideu, I give you the link of The most fascinating man alive.

I put a spell on you

2006-10-05T21:12:00.000-07:00

I put a spell on you

Finally, Finally, I have finished the books I was reading... And when that happens, there is only one thing to do.

Go buy more.

I was reading the Jeffersonian Bible upon reccomendation from the smartest friend in my repertoire. It took me a really long time to finish it.

But alas. The new books of interest: The Element Encyclopedia of 5000 spells, Vogue with Sandra Bullock on the cover(which is technically a magazine, thanks for pointing that out), and The Encyclopedia of the World's Religions. So, yes, folks, my life has come to me reading encyclopedias for fun.

But that is ok. Because I am still more fun than a great majority of people that walk this earth.

While we are on the topic of the great majority, it has come to my attention that we are all fascinating people, who claim to be perfectly imperfect, wonderously broken, or whatever. We all dare not claim perfection is among us, but yet we act as if we are perfect creatures. We definately throw stones, even though we all live in lovely little glass houses.

I shall make a bold and valliant claim. I make mistakes. Several, in fact. I trust the untrustworthy, I love the unloveable, I believe in the unbelievable. I also commit crimes against humanity.

But at the end of the day, I am still who I am. Who I was brought to this earth to be. At the end of the day, I can still say that I love me.

And with that, I leave you with a few pieces of goodness that have touched me today.

'I did it, I am sorry. Next year I'll be good. I'll try to be better. I'll do what I should. There's no one to blame, the fault was all mine. Forgive me, I won't do the same things next time.' -Unknown

'finish each day and be done with it. you have done what you could. some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. tomorrow is a new day. you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.' -emerson (stolen straight off of a refridgerator magnet)

'Fall in love or fall in hate.

Get inspired or be depressed.

Ace a test or flunk a class.

Make babies or make art.

Speak the truth or lie and cheat.

Dance on tables or sit in the corner.

Life is divine chaos.

Embrace it. Forgive yourself. Breathe.

And enjoy the ride... -Solbeam

PANTIES?!? NOOOO PANTIES!!!!!!

2006-10-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

For those of you who do not get this reference and photo, go rent, or buy drop dead fred posthaste. It is, quite seriously, the greatest thing you will ever do.

Is it cultural? No.
Is it smart? I wouldn't say that either.
Will it make you laugh until you cry? Absolutely.

I am gearing up for haloween today, which is my second favorite holiday, and though this isn't my costume, it would be a really good one.

I am as giddy as a kid who ate five pounds of candy corn.

I love my life.

Perfect is now.

2006-09-30T14:56:00.000-07:00

On My Terms

2006-09-25T11:11:00.000-07:00

People like to pretend that I do everything 'on my terms'

But I don't.

I really should start though.

Definite flaws in the system. Huge gaping holes.

E.G.- To do what I want when I want, I would have to be 100% comfortable being alone all the time. And to be quite honest, I don't like to be alone.

I like people surrounding me. I don't need them to fuel my fire, but I do like them to fire back at me.

Which leads me to point two. It has come to my attention that my friends are better than yours. And if you have the same friends as I do, consider yourself damn lucky.

So, bitches, if I were to do things on my terms today, here is what the plan would be:

1) Tell one person off.
2) Go buy myself my newest addition to the jewelry family, a Gucci bracelet.
3) Eat lunch with someone who means the world to me.
4) See my godbaby.
5) See Scott Francis and tell him thank you.

End of Story.

2006-09-20T14:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a shitty day. TOday is better.

But let me just say. I have now comprised a list of people who need to check their powertrip at the door. For your reading pleasure, I have written it out.

-Meter Maids. Really. YOur job is to ticket cars. This does not make you God's right hand man. Further more, that little ticket machine you carry around does not double as a septar and make you royalty. While we are on it, your little outfit sucks, and if you thought you were royalty, when you look in the mirror and see drab taupe staring back at you, you should be less confused.

-Those damn TA's that do things like say 'don't waste my time by asking me questions.' Really? You get your financial aid because people like me have questions.

-The other variety of TA's that think I am actually interested enough in statistics to require me to write a long ass paper on a long ass theory that will only be used maybe twice in my life.

-That 'know it all' that is in all of your classes, whom I believe, is hired by the university solely to irritate the everloving SHIT out of you. The particular know it all in question frustrated the teacher so much that she LITERALLY did the 'zip it' hand sign when he began babbling about how short middle eastern people were, and how freakishly huge Americans were in the middle of stats class.

-Those that feel that they have some power or control over me, when in all reality, they don't. If I do not talk to you twice a week, if you do not partake in any of the three F's, and if you are not an educator that has me on your role, YOU DON'T OWN ME. Don't send me text messages telling me where I am supposed to be, or anything crazy like that.

I don't know about you, but I definately feel better.

I am angry.

2006-09-18T21:13:00.000-07:00

Let me start this by saying: I had a superb night with wonderful company. And I am not in any part angry about that.

But I am angry all the same.

As Signalite put it, people are wonderous, and broken, all at the same time. I definitely fall into that category.

For a while, when I shattered, I lost my ability to harness my temper. There was no fiery anger or yelling. It was quite simply, an internalization. I had lost my greatest power, my linguistic skill.

It was like being a turtle without a shell. When people said they were sorry, I would automatically say it was ok, even when it really was anything but. When I didn't want to do something, I would do it anyways, so not to rock the proverbial boat.

But today, for the first time in a long time, I am angry. I am not just a scathing heap of internalized angry, and I have my words as wind in my sail.

Strangely, it is empowering to be mad when you are mad. It feels oddly good. It is almost comparable to putting your feet in the perfect shoes, where you know they will fit. Even though I hate to be angry. It is, without a doubt, bittersweet.

It is a feeling I vow to never appologize for.

Work it girl

2006-09-18T15:07:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh the pride parade. It will teach you many a thing.

This year was no different.

Behold, a list of the things I learned yesterday at the pride parade.

1) Large Lesbians with Large snakes(p.s. Snakes are the number one carrier of E. Coli) should be avoided, or they will try to make you pet their little friend.

2) Thin seems to be on its way out in the gay world. Pour queso in your coffee cup. It is time to plump up.

3) Rain may make your outfit less than fabulous. But it is fine all the same.

4) Vodka probably isn't a safe choice if the doctor puts you on a clear liquid diet.

5) DIVA fame spreads outside of the brunch circle and into the general public when you are greeted with 'OOOHHHH I know you. YOu are the only female on The Detroit Boys wall!'

6) My brunch group is better than yours. Hands down.

7) Haloween is going to trump all this year.

8) Good friends WILL tell the eleven year old with a spitting problem that is standing in your viscinity to stay away from you because of the unadulterated hatred for children.

9) Paying $50 for a table does not give you free reign to be an uncontrollable bitch.

10) All of the crap the parade people throw out is NOT worth fighting for (Ahem. JeffJeffJeff)

11) If you choose to be on a float, you should get coaching lessons on the toe pop and cheesy grin from the famed Southwest Employee with the pompoms and the airplane around his waist.

There are two sides to every story.

2006-09-14T06:31:00.000-07:00

After my very lovely roadtrip with the very lovely whitney (pictures to follow soon) wherein we partook in very fun activities, such as throwing a 'Religion 101' CD into the Mississippi river, entertaining ourselves in the tiny little river towns that are in the bootheel of Missouri, realizing that my happiness is directly correllated to the number of bars on my cellular device, and doing the whole DC tourist things.... I boarded the airplane for my dissent home.

I am now suffering from some seriously painful lower abdominal pain that is completely inexplicable by the modern doctor. I am going to see doctor #2 today.

But seriously, it hurts.

On the other hand, I am very excited, as the lovely Detroit boys are hosting the drunken soiree that is the gay pride parade pre and post party at their new NOT IN DETROIT abode.

By the way, I miss my brunch boys, they are like my religion.

The death of a rodent.

2006-09-06T10:10:00.000-07:00

As many of you former UNT-ites may know, tragically, the unofficial mascot of UNT has come to an untimely and ever tragic death via hawk hunting.

For the rest of you that don't have any idea as to what I am talking about, there was a white rat with a pretty tail (also known as an albino squirrel) that had decided to take up residency at UNT. They had made a club for him, they had several pictures adorning this rather large university of him, and they even had an 'albino squirrel crossing' in which wheeled objects were not allowed. Students in his fanclub had built a rather lovely little abode for our rodent friend. Unfortunately, whilst our little friend was out on a midnight stroll, a hawk ate him for dinner.

I have several questions that are swirling around in the commode of my brain. This is such a fascinating matter and all.

I mean, how are we to know that our rodent friend died at the hands of a hawk? Did someone spot it? Because last I checked, hawks aren't exactly city dwelling avians. Better yet, do we have a security guard whose sole job is to watch the squirrel at night? Or even better. night vision cameras? Which is it? OR-- Is it a conspiracy theory... Did the president of the university accidentally run over the squirrel whilst riding his bike through the no wheel zone? And it is one big cover up? Is this the next watergate?

This untimely death could prove to be the next big conspiracy, second only to the death of JFK.

But that isn't important, what is is what they are doing to commemorate the life of this freak of nature.

They, I shit you not, have erected memorials all over campus. Some students are expressing their loss through art via sidewalk chalk. Others still, decided to go to the candlelight vigil or 9 AM prayer service that the student body put on.

Rest in peace little freak of nature rodent. Rest in peace.

We Are... We Are... The Catty Bitches of a Nation.

2006-09-04T08:46:00.000-07:00

Darlings,
Everyone deserves a themesong. And that is ours. With a few word changes.

And if you deny that, you are lying.

Gobble Gobble.

2006-09-01T10:31:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement.

I am going to be partaking in Turkey Fest this year.

I will be traveling to the fine podunk towne of Cuero. This huge event features alcoholic beverages, turkey races, and barbecue cook offs. I can't imagine anything better. What's more- the turkeys that do not win the turkey race get slaughtered and eaten! Yay fun!

And really, I am thrilled to mingle with the locals.

2006-08-31T08:47:00.000-07:00

As I walked through the campus of UNT yesterday, fuming about the idiocity of the staff and fellow students that occupy my college experience that had been drug out for far too long, I saw this quote painted on the side of a brick retaining wall.

It said, quite simply, 'It is time to fall in love with your life.' It made me stop dead in my tracks and think how wonderful I have things. I love my life. I love every aspect of it. Hell, I even love the things about my life that are not perfect. I love it all.

Life is sublime. I mean that.

2006-08-29T04:13:00.000-07:00

I woke myself up laughing this morning, to a thought I had in my sleep.

I realized something. I love everyone in my life, but I definately love some much more than others.

End of story.

And on a little sidebar, I love my brunch boys. They have the power to make me a very happy girl. I don't tell any of them that enough.

On another side note, I am packing my bags and heading to Sin City for my Quarter Century gift to myself.

And for sidenote number three... Life is good. Even when I don't get what I think I want.

Just call me the rubix cube of personality types.

2006-08-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

A truly fascinating conversation happened today.

Someone who has known me on the most intimate of all intimate levels for a descent amount of time said

'I still haven't figured you out.'

Am I really that complicated?

By George I think I am right...

2006-08-21T21:30:00.000-07:00

Two facts that seem to be of particular interest to me:

1) Men are the predominant bread winners for families all across America...

2) Men think of sex every eight minutes.

With that, doesn't it make you wonder exactly how productive the world would be if women were to rule?

Time To Let Go.

2006-08-19T09:14:00.000-07:00

Letting go of things has never ever ever been a strong suit of mine. Never. Ever.

Ask the brunch boys, if they cross me at brunch, it is pretty much a given that I get to carry on my pout fest through the remainder of the very long meal.

That being said, I hold onto good things too. Friendships? I never really let them go. I may let them be distanced. But never do I just turn loose.

Good feelings of the past? I hold tight.

Bad feelings of the past? Unfortunately, I hold on to those too.

It's time to let go. Time to let go of something that I don't want to hold on to anymore. Something that I don't want to remember anymore. Something that I don't want plaguing me any longer.

It's time to say adieu. Farewell to things that never should have been. Its time to forgive myself for the mistakes I have made in the past, because I can't fix them. This is me putting it into writing that I am letting it go.

The little diva that could

2006-08-16T04:29:00.000-07:00

Over the course of the last few days, I have come to realize a few things.

1) No matter how hard I try to express my feelings, I am always going to come up a little bit short in that department.

2) Sometimes, you've got to weed the proverbial garden and torch the weeds in order to move on with your life.

3) Money isn't everything. Especially when your happiness is at stake.

4) I am a brat. And that is OK.

5) I have an innate ability to throw some serious fits, and it is never what is on the surface that is the problem.

And with those life lessons, ladies and gentlemen, I now officially have a GPA high enough to obtain 'Overload Permission' From UNT. WHich means, that if I can get through college algebra, I can get a diploma in December ((Incert crazy dancing here))

P.S.- Jim, this is really good news. Where ever you are, could you stop and do the chicken dance just for me (and for Jeff) Please?

2006-08-09T09:16:00.000-07:00

Clearly a little fucked up.

Clearly you have to highlight the text to read it.

Clearly the links on the sidebar are alll squished.

Clearly A lot of things.

But this picture. This photograph. It is the theme of my life.

It kicks ass.

I don't know what it is. But I like it.

Anyhoo-- the blog is a work in progress.

Thanks to Scotty.

A Personal Proposal.

2006-08-03T07:36:00.000-07:00

So let me just ask you kind folk this very odd question.

Do lesbians have any use for condoms? Any at all? Not Dental Dams, but Condoms.

Why do I pose this question? Simple really.

Someone I knew well seemed to have a thing for females who dug other females. Maybe not whilst they were together, but eventually it seems that several of said dating companions eventually became bisexual or lesbian.

One of said dating companions in particular, I had the BIGGEST- absolute biggest- girl crush on her. She was so cool. I seriously wanted to be everything she was. Granted, I was only 13 at the time, but I still find her to be fascinating.

Anyways. On to the point.

So she made some mention of buying condoms in a blog she posted. I have pondered this for far too long. I cannot come up with the answer. So please, dear readers, unconfuse me.

The guide to living with your parents after you have already flown the coupe.

2006-08-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

...

...

...

I have no guide. Fuck, it is a daily trial.

What I have discovered in the last twenty-four hours are two things:

1) If your mother comes in to chastise you for leaving a paper napkin on the kitchen counter because there was no trash bag available by telling you that she spends her days following you around, picking up after you, turning off lights after you, and just generally babysitting you while she has her hands on her hips and is speaking to you in a tone that generally resembles the way a mother tells a three year old not to touch a hot stove, it is NOT advisable to laugh. Do whatever it is that you have to do to keep your composure. Bite your cheek, pinch your arm, think of your favorite pet getting hit by a car... Whatever you do, don't laugh.

2) If you successfully manage to make your mother cry before 8 AM by just being in her presence, either you look very intimidating or sonething is terribly wrong.

On the topic of #2, pra tel, why is is that mother's tears, whether menopause enduced or otherwise, make the flesch of their womb feel like complete and total dogshit?

On other news fronts, I am determined to have a good fucking day.

Feel free to assist my cause by leaving something happy in the comment box.

Wish/Want in one hand...

2006-07-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

I want to know what I am going to be when I grow up.

I want to know why I am how I am.

I want to know what makes them tick.

I want to know why honesty hurts so bad.

I want to know that I can fly but know that I can always land back in the proverbial nest.

I want to know that I can live alone.

I want to know that I can understand people.

I want to be accepted.

I want to like myself for who I am.

I want to be successful in my endeavors.

I want to act my age.

I want others to act their age.

I want to make people happy.

I want to make some people cry.

I want to be the one who delivers that proverbial 'taste of their own medicine.'

I want to believe in people again.

I want for everyone to have an equal shot.

I want to be rich.

I want the wisdom that my Great Aunt carries.

I want the gossip to stop.

I want to judge people at face value.

I want to be judged at face value.

I want for people to tell the truth.

I want for people to be nice.

I want there to be a Santa Claus.

I want to understand.

I want the things spinning around in my head to make sense.

I want a cell phone that doesn't drop the most important calls.

I want for people to know who I hold dearest in my heart.

I want to live without fear.

I want to be an artist.

I want to have the spirit of a hippie.

I want to have a better grasp of things I don't understand.

I want to understand why there are some things that we, as humans, just don't get.

I want to be true to myself.

I want to understand the past.

I want to know what will happen in the future.

I want to be less whiney.

I want happiness for my family.

I want a money tree.

I want.

2006-07-24T20:31:00.000-07:00

Nothing brings the bitch out in me like people whispering behind my back.

Nothing.

Lucky for me that I have AMAZING friends.

My amazing friends have one thing in common consistently, they all have the ability to be the biggest bitches in the whole world when the situation calls for it.

Think of it like a millitary defense system, all specialized to attack in very different ways.

The end result: Death of the opponent.

Let the games begin bitches... I didn't start this one, but I will certainly be the one to finish it, with the help of one amazing friend in particular.

I am laughing just thinking about it.

Casting my life

2006-07-20T16:48:00.000-07:00

We all know the torrid love whatever that happened between JFK, Marilyn Monroe, and Jackie O.

We have all heard the story thousands of times.

Marilyn Monroe was that something shiny...

But Jackie O couldn't even be categorized next to Marilyn, not because she was less in any way, but because it was like comparing a glass vase to Waterford Crystal. Jackie O was the Waterford Crystal.

Both equally beautiful and timeless. Both have the ability to be an heirloom, and both will succeed in that...

But one is Waterford Crystal.

And yet, in our classic human kind of way, JFK went for the glass even though the Waterford was right there.

Hands down, that is my favorite modern fairy tale, because with a simple twist of fate, the whole story could be different. It is fascinating.

2006-07-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

I have an announcement.

I want flowers.

Really obscene flowers.

Delivered to my abode.

By a florist.

For no Special occasion.

From someone other than my Father.

The end.

“Things in law tend to be black and white. But we all know that some people are a little bit guilty, while other people are guilty as hell.”

2006-07-12T05:59:00.000-07:00

When the inner psychee takes us down a path we don't care to venture down... It is never comforting, but always thought provoking. I recognize that I, as everyone hold my imperfections. I know that some of them are endearing. I know that others will lead to the downfall of me. All the while, I am still guilty.

Guilty of believing in someone who didn't deserve to be believed in.

Guilty of holding on to someone or something too long.

Guilty of lying, cheating, and stealing all in order to fulfil an unnecessary need.

Guilty of allowing the small and petty to affect the large and imperative.

Guilty of loving someone who didn't deserve to be loved.

Guilty of giving up on someone who deserved support.

Guilty of saying things I don't mean.

Guilty of meaning things I don't say.

Guilty of being a pain in the ass in the present, over things that have happened in the past.

Guilty of not swallowing pride, when swallowing was definitely in order.

Guilty of letting go of a dream too soon.

Guilty of missing the unmissable.

Guilty of allowing my cynicism and pessimism overtake my optimistic and trusting side.

Guilty of losing touch with the people and belief system that made me what I am today.

Guilty of Hurting someone who didn't deserve it.

Guilty of growing up when I swore I wouldn't.

...And sometimes, it is really hard to admit guilt when you are trained to believe that you couldn't possibly be wrong.

Rare form

2006-07-07T18:35:00.000-07:00

I am in rare form these days.

I am on a moral ass hole ripping kind of tear. SOOOOOOOO if you have ever done something I find to be unjust, watch out. These are your days to hear about it.

Case and point: I shall give you two opposite ends of the spectrum.

The Big Deal: Miss 'Here's a bible, go find yourself and your failing marriage (which had no redeeming qualities to it) in these pages' has found herself in quite the predicament. Her fiancee ended things with her. She is hoping for a reproposal. Fat chance because, well... He's gay. Now, lets all go ahead and congratulate me, because I didn't tell her he was gay. I merely told her that she should stop standing on a proverbial iceberg when global warming is clearly taking place. I also laughed profusely when one of her roommates gave her the god schpeel and told her to find her relationship at church and she became offended. Further more, I thouroughly enjoyed the part when she said 'I only tell you things when I want to be judged. You are so judgemental.' Hello pot? This is kettle, you are black. So sorry, but it is common knowledge that I call a spade when I see a spade. It is also no family secret that I speak my mind. I have gotten so much better, but seriously, who would I be if I wasn't the one who gave opinions? I would have NOTHING to write about.

The Not-so-big deal:
I went apeshit this morning over hair ties. Yes. Hair ties. My brand new package of hair ties had been secretly and stealthily removed from the location at the 'exclusive companions' that I had placed them in. They were placed in a bag to be shipped off to my real homeland that was not in my posession at the current moment. And damnit, I needed hair ties. HAIR TIES! The hair tie monster invaded my body, as did irrational girl. Things were whirling about my head, things that made NO sense. Things like 'Why did the hair ties have to be moved? Why was it such an inconvenience to have them there? Why is there no room in his life for my hairties, but there is room for pictures of the exgirlfriend? What the hell is wrong with me? What the fuck? Why can't my hairties be there? DAMNIT!!!! I NEED A HAIRTIE! HAIRTIEHAIRTIEHAIRTIE.... HAIRTIE!!!!!!!!!!! It was, seriously, like I was feinding for heroine in a very femi-nazi state. Don't worry. I kept my cool. But lets not pretend that there wasn't a mini fit thrown about my lack of hairtie. And yes, I know that there are hairties for purchase at every pharmacy and grocery store. But I wanted, I needed, my hairties.

So, needless to say, I am super super fun these days. Maybe I should ingest a bottle of Tylenol PM and begin blogging when the catatonic state has passed.

I am a super hero....

2006-06-27T07:21:00.000-07:00

See this spider? This spider was residing in The Associates abode. He came out to play on my trip to the loo. I did what any 'NORMAL' person would do. I faced off with that little spider. I stood still, he stood still. We stood still.

Then I realized that this spider pictured above could be a brown recluse. I also realized that this spider could be the death of me. I then ran. I ran like I had a pack of wolves behind me. I ran like my demise was just on my tail.

I informed the associate that there was a spider... What does he do? Yes folks. He grabbed his camera. He took some pictures from very far away. He then screamed like a girl and danced like he was standing on hot coals, all to remove himself from the spider that was quite certainly standing still. He then got the bug spray and said 'I can't kill that. It's too gross. Will you?'

...So I, actually, my superhero self, killed this spider.

Going postal never sounded so good

2006-06-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, for the record, I know that I am being irrational and moody and irritable and all things unkind.

But sometimes even we grown ups have to throw temper tantrums.

Things People Forget about the Temper Tantrum Episodes:

1) We all throw them. Basketball players literally lay down on the court and kick. Big Girls simply huff around.

2) The root of the ill is far more than whatever warrants the temper tantrum, but the warranting agent should also be removed. At least until the root is fixable.

3) Your closest friends just have to deal with it. You do the same for them, so they get to return the favor.

Sometimes, tempertantrums are multiplied exponentially due to external irritants.

On Malt Liquor and Gas Station Men.

2006-06-22T10:27:00.000-07:00

I do not know if I have mentioned this before or not, but I hate the gas station. I wish we still had full service gas stations at every corner where the village idiot would come, and ever so sweetly check out your car's stats and refuel it. You never even had to leave the vehicle, and all of this cost a few bucks in tip.

I assure you, that if I knew where a full service gas station was, I would NEVER refuel myself.

My dear friend has been pleading with me that I never return to gas stations, as I have terrible luck with them. And it is true, I have terrible luck. Case in point, my newest gas station acquaintance, Red.

There I am, standing about, pumping gasoline into my vehicle. When across the breezeway, a motorist who was equipped with a silver Ford Focus with several Decals on and about it, who was sporting a baseball cap and a white wifebeater, so that every one of his twenty-two tattoos could be seen decided to strike up a conversation.

Strange Motorist:Hello.
Me:(Ignoring the truly tragic fellow)
Strange Motorist:Hello.
Me:Hello.
Strange Motorist:You look beautiful
Me: Thanks.
Strange Motorist:Can I get your number?
Me:I am sorry, but my phone number comes with a one drink minimum. (Turns back to strange motorist)

A few minutes pass, I feel that strange motorist must have gotten the hint, and am very pleased with the prospect that I will never have to see that giant fuck again. When along comes strange motorist, bearing a gas station gift.

Strange Motorist: Here, I brought you this. (Which happened to be a bottle wrapped in a paper bag, with his phone number written on the outside)
Me:What?
Strange Motorist:My name is Red. Like the color. And you are?
Me:Suzanne.
Strange Motorist:Nice to meet you Susanne, So are you going to call me sometime, and let me take you out? We will get something real good to eat.
Me:(Evaluating the potential suitor in full, and noting the two female names that I can visibly read that are located about his body.) Oh. Right. Okay.
Strange Motorist: Well, call me. Do you promise to call?
Me: (no words can possibly flow out of my mouth.)
Strange Motorist:Bye.
Me:Yes. Bye.

As strange motorist pulled away, I dared to unwrap his gift. A bottle of Colt 45 Malt Liquor. I immediately disposed of the 'treasure' and am doing my best to block out the horror of it all.

Which leads me to my guest blog, Men who try to date women they clearly cannot afford.

Irritants of EPIC proportion

2006-06-14T13:49:00.000-07:00

This is a three part irritation. All stand alone. If irritation be the food of rants.... Rant on, rant on, rant on...

Part One:
Way back in March, I was writing cards to a few special people. I did this at the associates abode. When I was finished, I stamped the cards, and asked the associate to place them in the mailbox. He happily agreed. I left, assuming that the cards would find their way to the mailbox. Being that I am very familiar with the male species, I even asked if they had been mailed. He said yes. Cut to yesterday. I was, again, at the associates house, writing cards to a few special people. As I was stamping them, The ASSociate gets this EUREKA! look about his face, and says 'Oh!,' gets under the bed (Yes, thats right, under the bed) and removes the three month old cards and says 'I forgot to mail these...' Feel free to scold him in the comment box, he is a regular reader.

Part Two:
I went into a department store to browse for the impossible items. FYI- The obnoxious perfume ladies are out in full force. On my way from the entrance, to the escalator, I was attacked SEVEN times. This could not happen again, I had to make a plan of attack for my exit. I thought, I thought, and I thought some more. I stepped on to the downward escalator, and I saw them, like pirhanas, ready to bite. What did I do? I shit you not, I RAN through the department store to the exit. Nay. I sprinted.

Part Three:
I returned something to a department store. I paid with cash, and I had the reciept. Their policy: You must return item at the place in the store that the item was purchased. You must then, if you want your cash, find your way to the customer service counter, and recieve your cash there. I waited approximately fifteen minutes for a CS associate to help me. They then go through a series of questions as to why I wanted to return the item. Once it was deemed that I was STILL returning the item, they reluctantly handed me my cash back. ASS HATS.

I mean, really. Seriously. People kill me.

The male species is rendered completely useless unless they want to be in your pants, have been in your pants, or are currently in your pants.

2006-06-09T23:36:00.000-07:00

I had a flat tire today.

I remove all of my tools, and decide to do this dreaded deed myself. And though I am certain I could perform this task on a deserted residential street, there were several issues that made the task quite a bit more complicated:
- I left the significant somethings abode this morning, still sporting my pajamas.
- I was on an interstate that has no shoulder.
- I pulled off of the road into the DIRT (Where a large snake skin and a bird carcas was located)
- I have never actually done this for myself.

But damnit, I was determined. So I remove the jack and other tools of doom and begin to try to change the tire. Lo and behold, the lug nuts are not going to move. I drive a Japanese car, so I think to myself, 'self, maybe the Japanese don't employ the righty tighty lefty loosy rule... Why don't you call and get confirmation on the way we should be turning this dohickey.' So I call my brother, who chooses to fire an arsenal of insults, and hangs up without answering my question. Fuck. Next person on the call list: My most mechanically enclined gay friend: Scotty. Scotty is a 8 to 5 er, and he does not answer his phone. Double Fuck. Who to call now? My best straight male friend, D.Wayne. Now, for those of you who know, D.Wayne is brother of DAP. DAP and I have quite the story that D.Wayne does NOT know about... But DAP lives remarkably close to the site in which I was located. But damnit I had no choice. So I call D.Wayne, and he tells me not to move. I protest the event that is about to take place, but to no avail.

I knew what was about to happen, and there was NOTHING I could do about it.

There I am, in all of my diva glory, standing on the side of a highway, in my pajamas, wearing no makeup, wearing flipflops, hair in a very JBF style. I was a picture of beauty. I was a picture of high society.

DAP pulls up and gets out of his vehicle. What does he say? Not Hi. Not good to see you. He says 'So I take it you are still dating Mr. Dallas?' I look. I smile the really fake smile. I say 'good to see you too.'

DAP changes the tire, all the while making very uncomfortable small talk, regarding my attire, regarding my lovelife, regarding several hot button items that were completely inappropriate. As if this activity was not fun enough. I answer his questions, and with every answer I give, the air gets thicker, and thicker, and thicker.... I swear, by the end of it, I was trying to breathe jello.

...The only redeeming thing about this event was that it only lasted fifteen minutes.

Note to self (and anyone reading this): Always put real clothes on before beginning your journeys.

I think men are far dumber than we ever anticipated... Or maybe we are far smarter than any females could ever hope to be.

2006-06-07T22:13:00.000-07:00

My dear friend Elle, Also known as the other half of my daily Lucy and Ethel Team, is always helping me orchestrate a ridiculous plan.

We always have something on the agenda. We always try our very best to accomplish the agenda without 'blowing our cover.'

It has come to my attention that men are daft.

More daft than i would have ever guessed.

This leaves me with two options.

1) Become overt.

2) Complain profusely to Elle.

I think I shall stick with option two.

Slap a pair of ovaries on my Tiara.

2006-06-04T15:37:00.000-07:00

If I ever look like this with my betrothed... I ask you-- Nay, I beg you, drag me out into the street and shoot me.

Examine. They are wearing collared shirts. Matching Blazers. Standing outside of some historic home. Or maybe it is their home. Who knows? What I do know is that the thought of living my life in a Southern Living Magazine makes me nauseous.

The definition of 'Live'- To pursue a positive, satisfying existence.

Positive and satisfying is different for everyone. I know. And this is a close, personal friend of mine. Needless to say, she does not have my blog address. At least I don't think she does. I really am happy for her- because this is the path that makes her happy.

Maybe this makes me so nauseated because this is the close, personal friend of mine that (I shit you not) handed me a bible when I told her that my marriage was over with the statement of 'Maybe you can find your marriage AND God in here.'

Or maybe this makes me so nauseous because I have learned that anything that looks placid and serene from the top is bound to have one hell of an undertow.

Or maybe it is because I am so blissfully happy with my life right now, even though there are obvious cracks on the exterior.

I am reading a feminist revolution book currently, and there is a whole rant upon our species feeling that if they can make the exterior look perfect, then the interior is bound to line up. Those of us who have lived life just a touch will know that this is not how it works. Moreover, exteriors do lie. Think Bree Van De Camp on Desperate Housewives.

I suppose what I am getting at is this: I don't care what my life looks like on the outside, so long as I am happy on the inside.

So Apparently I have a pressure gague on my mouth

2006-06-02T17:22:00.000-07:00

... At least that is my brothers summation.

The whole analogy as follows

Him: "Jeebers (OK, so I am replacing some words, as this is a PG 13 blog) Jebroni (His newest and favorite nickname for yours truly), you look like shit. Whats wrong with you?"
Me: Nothing.
Him: "Famous last words. Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to pin you?"
Me: Neither is looking good. Pinning is not advisable.
Him: "Well then, I shall just have to guess from your posturing as to whats wrong with you. Hold on, I need my tools. (Returns in less than thirty seconds with two wineglasses, and one full bottle of wine.) Say when you want me to stop pouring..."
Me: You can pour all day long, I am not in the mood to drink.
Him: "Oh, ok. So, what you are saying is that you are having a bad day. Judging from your location, it is a bad day involving a member of the opposite sex. Judging from the fact that you are not drinking, you are saying that your pressure gague on your mouth was activated... And you verbally vomited, only it didn't make you feel better?"
Me: Christ, brother. First of all, what tools do you use for these psychic diagnoses? Second of all, what are you talking about a pressure gague on my mouth?
Him: "A true magician can never reveal his tricks, but I will say that the wine bottle holds far more answers than the crystal ball ever thought about holding. As far as the pressure gague goes: You are easy to read. You may make no sense, but you are completely an open book when people pay attention. You and your verbal vomit is like a shaken beer can. You are never without carbonation, people keep shaking, you get eerily quiet... People keep shaking, even if they don't mean to shake. Even more silence ensues. The calm before the storm. Then something seemingly meaningless, like a simple jostle of the cooler, and the pressure gague on your mouth loses it. You spew beer, or words, violently. Only, and this is often the case, nothing is actually accomplished by this verbal outpour... Because noone ingested the beer, and there is still beer left in the can. You should probably consider a different management technique. This one rarely works for you. When you care to fill me in on the details, let me know... Until then, I will be forced to polish off this bottle of wine"

Yeah, so my method of crises management is clearly as flawwed as FEMA, now what am I going to do about it?

2006-06-02T07:55:00.000-07:00

Last night, oh last night....

... I arrived at a bar in which the Mavericks game was playing, fans of that sport amaze me-- Really they do. I understand chanting and cheering while you are at the arena watching the game... But I do NOT understand partaking in this type of activity when you are in a sports bar.

... I met a lovely new character with an interesting name that does not reflect her personality at all. Cruel parents.

... We went to a bar entitled 'Half Yard House' in which they serve beer in half yard glasses, sing karaoke, and cater to very "interesting" patrons. I learned several things from this outing...
1) I plan on dying a karaoke virgin.

2) You should not sing 'Close to You' Whilst wearing moccasins, and sporting a mullett.

3) There will always be a group of obnoxious males who have to sing songs with lyrics as enchanting as " Whos that girl out there? With the little bitty titties and no pussy hair"

4) There will always be a group of ridiculous females who must butcher every musical you have ever loved.

5) If you are REALLY lucky, you can catch a man preaching to a bar patron whilst making your exit from said 'enchanting' location.

That pretty much concludes my critique on my evening. I hope you learned as much from my experience as I did first hand.

Happy Blogday

2006-05-31T14:54:00.000-07:00

This blog is now One year old.

I have, officially been pouring my brain, my thoughts, and sometimes my feelings out for one solid year.

Buy me presents to celebrate.

...It must be hard to date me.

2006-05-27T10:27:00.000-07:00

When you come to the realization that you yourself couldn't date you, yourself... It is a harsh and unkind reality.

I mean, really... If I were to run into myself, and god forbid, date myself... I would tell myself off with a strand of insulting speech. It would go something like this:

"YOU overanalyze everything, you are emotionally constipated and though maybe in touch with your feelings have one hell of a time expressing them with words... Every thing you say is a contradiction to what you feel, and it makes no sense. Further more, you love jewelry and all things that sparkle more than you love the air that you breathe. You are RIDICULOUS!"

I am ridiculous.

In fact, when I care about the dating associate, I spend hours upon hours analyzing one sentence. ONE SENTENCE. I spend hours upon hours thinking about strange and random verbage.

I am constantly hearing 'What are you thinking about?' from those that I date. And I constantly say 'Oh, nothing.' That is a bold faced lie. It is always something. Only, if I were to inform them what it was that I was thinking, they would look at me as if I was insaine.

And I am. Maybe not crazy in the 'Admit me to the Psych Ward' Way- but in the 'Good god, quantum physics is less complicated than you' kind of way.

What I would love more than anything is to know what former dating associates say in reference to me. Or even better, if the current dating associate views me as the pain in the ass that I clearly am...

I guess some questions are better left unanswered.

Damn voices talk to me.

2006-05-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

Ever had an angel sitting on one shoulder and a devil on the other?

We all know right from wrong, but sometimes the wrong is so much more fun.

What to do? What to do? What to do? What to do?

Do the right thing, do the right thing, do the right thing....

Do the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, do the wrong thing...

Call for a third opinion.

In the end, do what you know is right.

Doing the right thing is so boring.

2006-05-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

In a quest to be the eternal female Peter Pan, I have come up with a brand new master plan for my life....

I dont want to work five days a week, but I do need benefits....

What ever can I do?

Become A flight attendant.

And I am bringing Elle in on the idea,

More On This Later.

These Are my Confessions.

2006-05-22T20:08:00.000-07:00

Just call me Usher.

Three confessions. Mad Libs Style.

Confession #1-
Dear (Name),
I saw those (insert plural object here) and you knew I saw them. So I (action verb) the objects in question. I felt (insert feeling here).

Confession #2-
Dearest,
I am ok with you (insert feeling here) me. I (insert feeling here) you too.

Confession #3-
I do not like (insert name here). I only pretend like I do because it makes you (insert emotion here).

Beware of philosophical objects

2006-05-22T06:16:00.000-07:00

It is agreed that it is the human condition to do what feels good. Only, we have complicated this basic rule with things like 'moral compasses' and 'civic duty' and 'relationships.'

So now what we have are these very complicated selves that try to please all of these aspects with every single strategically planned event.

It gets confusing. It gets old. It gets tiring.

It becomes rather muddled. You stop knowing when to please yourself, or when to take one for the team...

You can't pay homage to what the team wants all of your life, but you can't do what you want, just because you want it either.

It makes for a muddled mess. Does all of that get easier when you get old? Doubtful.

On the other hand, I had an amazing weekend filled with things that I find enjoyable. Cowboymouth, The Wild Flower Festival, A Chorus Line, Fine Dining, Sunday Brunch, Smurf figurines, Desperate Housewives season finale (which was AMAZING), the whole gammett if you will.

...These are a few of my favorite things

2006-05-16T13:30:00.000-07:00

There is one spot on the farthest reaches of the universe that is mine, all mine.

Is it my abode? Nope. That belongs to my mother and father.

Is it my vehicle? Negative. As it is a traveling location.

Where? You may ask? Here.

My blog.

In an ode to my blog, to the one place that I govern everything, I would like to pledge my allegiance to my little spot on the web, it is a lovely one. Uncomfortable for some, but amazing for me.

Why? Why is it so amazing? Simply put, because I make the rules.

She has a piece of my heart

2006-05-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

My Andreaguita came to visit this weekend.....

... I miss her so...

I didn't do it.

2006-05-11T16:08:00.000-07:00

OK, Whoever loves me most can help me fix this blog of mine....

Who knows how to make it pretty again???

I am having an identity crisis.

2006-05-11T08:54:00.000-07:00

Soooooooooooooo...

I get this email from SoNotRight, informing me that I have been blogrolled here.

So I am a poster child of gay blogs? How does one become a poster child of gay blogs if they are not gay? I mean, don't get me wrong, I get down with the gay people... But I have never slept with someone of the same sex, so I don't really feel that I qualify...

But damnit I WANT to qualify...

So I have decided to award myself with an honorary title....

I am henceforth 'Honorary Gay man stuck in a straight girls body'

Any who second this motion can do so in the comment box.....

Other nominees? Want to nominate yourself??? Go right ahead...

There ought to be more of us out there...

Pink. As in the singer. Not the color.

2006-05-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

I love PINK. I have good memories of a song... A song that is quite appropriate for today.

In the way of PINK, I should like to make today a day of listing.

Five Things I find Annoying
1) People going back on their word. This is not meant in the way of 'But you promised we would go out to dinner, and now that your great Aunt Maple has come into town, you are cancelling.' This is meant in the way of making a promise that is not kept for no good reason. Generally a good way to piss me off.

2) People wearing their feelings on their sleeve, and thereby projecting feelings of insecurity on me... Therefore turning me into a gigantic bitch. Don't do it. Really, don't. We will stop there.

3) Yelling at me as if I were four years old. I am not four. That said, I am not grown up, but I am grown up enough to make up my mind, make my own decisions, and choose my own path in life. Stop yelling. It isn't going to change my mind.

4) Giving advice during inopportune times. Generally, I do not want advice unless I, in no uncertain terms, ask for it. Those of you who have not been exactly where I am, doing exactly what I am doing, do not know exactly what my cards are. If I ask, it is fair game. If I don't, don't offer it up.

5) Stating that I am critical. Yes, damnit I am critical. Especially of the people I love. If I point out what you do wrong, it is because I love you enough to think that you should fix it. I do it to everyone that I find worth it. I expect for people to do it to me. So if you don't like it, don't surround yourself with me. BUT DONT make me out to be the bad one because I want the best for you.

This post was brought to you by the letters B, I, T, C, and H.

Thank you, come again.

Meet my southpark character.

2006-05-09T14:06:00.000-07:00

And you also can make your own character... If you play your cards right.

You can play your cards right by Clicking This Button

Navigate your ship however you want...

2006-05-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

I know that I am a different individual...

I know that the way I tick is not like anyone elses.

But seriously... I make way more sense than other people.

Last night, I went out with 'the associate' to the symphony. After the symphony, we went to this coffee house/dessert palace/bar called OBZEET. There, we met 'The Jew Crew' in which my favorite of 'the associates' friends was a part of. He was drunk beyond drunk, which just makes things really fun. Anyways... We sat discussing the friends new girl... By new I mean two weeks old. NEW. And the topic came up that if he were to title her as something, he would call her his girlfriend.

I nearly choked on my own tounge. It was clear that I nearly choked on my own tounge. And to further make me cackle... he said "But it is different. She really likes me."

OK, let me just break this down for a moment. Follow me. Now you people who fall madly in love after a few short weeks, are, well... fools. FOOLS I TELL YOU. In order to assure myself that I shall not become a fool... I have set forth a plan of sorts. It is really quite sensible. Follow me.

There are four levels of the datingship.

1) Casual Associate- The one you see weekly, or bi-monthly, to cure boredom or whatever. There are no strings attached. You could have several casual associates if you care to. Because clearly, there is no care involved. This pattern should be kept for at least two weeks, preferrably one month.

2) Dating Associate- This is a person that you see with some degree of regularity. You like them, they like you. You still have every right to date other people, unless otherwise specified. The dating associate is someone you spend time with, someone you care about, but someone that holds no stock in your important life decisions. IE- If you decide to move to Moscow, they should certainly be alerted... But they don't get to state their opinion on the issue. Introducing associates to family members should be avoided like one avoids the Avian Flu. You can discuss the associate with friends, but only introduce them to those that are very near and dear to the heart. This should be the holding pattern for one to four months, maybe longer, depending on the situation.

3) The Significant Something- The significant something is really a place of splendor. You can introduce them to the family, you can introduce them to the friends... They are your one and only dating associate... But they are different than the dating associate because you actually really and truly enjoy their company. Still by no means a boyfriend or girlfriend. You care about their opinion, and though you ARE NOT required to take heed, you definately listen to what it is that they are saying. This could be an indefinate holding pattern, and it is generally advisable to stay there for a good amount of time, but should be in place for at least one month.

4) The Boyfriend/Girlfriend- This place is not for the faint of heart. This is the place where you iron out ALL of the kinks of your relationship. This is the place where you do strange things like take them on vacation to meet your extended family. One must truly care about your life in order to be titled 'Boy/Girlfriend.' For example, Boyfriends and Girlfriends must attend all family events. There are no bribes to be had. They must attend the great uncles funeral, and they must bring flowers. They must be the pillar of the dating community. Behavior that was previously excusable is no longer excusable. This becomes the time in a courtship where the ever familliar 'We bombs' are dropped. 'WE' like itallian food. 'WE' like the color pink. 'WE' want a house in the country. Timeline for this period: A minimum of one year. That is being nice.

So there you have it... A sensible guide to the navigation of the datingship. Take it or leave it. I, for one, will take it.

Cosmically Challenged.

2006-05-04T16:34:00.000-07:00

People, in general, are flawed individuals...

I think Jimmy Buffett put it best when he said 'The Cosmic Bakers took us out of the ovens a little too early.'

Anyone who cannot admit their flaws, are more flawed than you care to admit.

Today, I had the pleasure of quite literally running into one of the most flawed, fucked up, people. His name: Juan.

Juan kindly rear ended my vehicle whilst I was on my travels from Denton to Garland-ia.

Juan then got out of his vehicle and made a series of declarations and moves that just plain and simply pissed me off.

First, he informed me that he would prefer that I not call the police, as 'he was not supposed to be here.' I mean, really, I am completely tolerant of the illegal latin population, so long as they are not causing me to have to search for translations to documents, they are contributing to the working society in which I care not to contribute to, and generally being lovely members of society. When you run into my vehicle, you are no longer a lovely member of society. Strike one for my flawed friend, Juan.

Then, he proceeded to place his hand in the small of my back and reach over me as to give me a hug. Some of you will find this particularly hilarious, as I DO NOT like to be touched. Nonetheless, Juan decided to do this twice, before I kindly explained to him that if he were to partake in this a third time, he would be decked. This will count as strike two and three for Juan, as I generally HATE being touched by strangers.

After he was done violating my personal space, Juan then declared that he had done no damage to my vehicle. I didn't care, I asked for his insurance information anyways. Since Juan already had his strike limit... Juan was just feeding the fire of my anger.

When prompted for his insurance info, Juan handed me an expired insurance card. All the while, declaring to me that he had done no damage to my vehicle. I continued to write the information down, as it is never good to piss a diva off. All the while becoming quite enraged. Due to the irritation, I then expressed the need to see his drivers liscense, and demanded to know where this Juan was working. Here comes irrational girl that we have been discussing lately.

As I drove off into the sunset, I thought to myself that this is a seriously flawed individual. A seriously flawed individual that has seriously pissed me off. Now here is the question that I have been grappling with for the entire day... Upon reciept of the insurance check, shall I call and report his employer for hiring illegal immigrants? Shall I call and file a police report, just to make his life a living hell? Or shall I walk away and just be thankful that this man is someone I will never, ever, have to run into again?

Excuse me while I act the part of Irrational Girl...

2006-04-30T22:12:00.000-07:00

When I was very small, my parents were convinced that they had concieved the next Broadway star...

And were they right... Only I couldn't really sing. And I never did like to dance. But boy did I love the spotlight. I loved to get up on stage and conjur up everything I had, with the most stage presence you have ever seen coming out of a four year old.

I was a SUPERSTAR

I grew up, and quickly realized that I had no desire to be famous. Only I still loved the spotlight, and I can still put on one hell of a show.

I do alright for myself. But sometimes, this insatiable urge to act a part overwhelms me, today I played the role of irrational girl. Irrational Girl who had some serious damage. Irrational girl who was very... Irrational...

Irrational girl was deeply perterbed at another for something she does herself.

But irrational girl kept it in check. Irrational girl was a good little drama queen and kept it all inside of her head.

Take a bow, irrational girl, for a job well done.

This is a typical days worth of conversation for me.

2006-04-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

So... As you may know, the demon PMS has moved in.

The Demon PMS makes one do some crazy things.

The Demon PMS makes one request crazy things of their friends, that are in fact, crazy.

And everyone with half of a brain knows this.

And everyone who is not being inhabited with the demon PMS will try their hardest to cease crazed actions. This rarely works.

But to prove my point, I will share with you a conversation.

Elle: Are you sure? What is the closest designer item to you?

Me: Yes I am sure. There are no designer anythings near me at the moment. But I can swear on my computer.

Elle: No, No, No that won't do... Find something designer. Stat. I am sure there is a handbag littering your floor somewhere.

Me: Fine, I swear on my Chanel's.

Elle: Repeat after me. I do solemnly swear on my Chanel sunglasses that if my body were not possessed by the mental illness, PMS, I would still want you to do this.

Me: ((repeats))

Elle: Continue repeating, And I am sure that I do not want you to wait for three to five days before continuing with this course of action.

Me: ((repeats again))

Elle: And once out of your PMS illness state, do you solemnly swear to not hold the consequences of this PMS action against me, if there should be any?

Me: Yes, I swear.

Elle: You really are ill. Really. Ill.

((insert creepy carnival music here))

2006-04-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

PMS has moved into my body two days early.

Let me just say that for anyone out there who has never experienced the monster... It is a hellish nightmare filled with PMS Carney food, freak shows, and illusions of the mind.

All in all it is like being stuck at a three day long circus gone terribly wrong.

Forget the peanuts and icecream of the regular circus. This is hell's circus- at hell's circus, the cuisine is simply Carbohydrates, in any way you can consume them... Chocolate, in mass quantities... and Popcicles, which is unique to my Hell circus.

Freak shows happen left and right at the PMS hell circus. Three times a day you will see my head swell, detach from my shoulders squirt blood, spin around, and then, as fast as it detached, it reattaches and I become civil again. That is only one of the strange things you will see here.

Illusions of the mind. Oh the illusions. This is where we females get the lable of 'irrational bitch' but in truth, it is just a carney flaw. You simply, see things that do not exist. You hear things that do not exist. All in all everything that is upsetting does NOT exist.

Welcome one, welcome all to the PMS hell Carney that has invaded my body. But hurry, it is a limited engagement of three days, and tickets are selling fast.

Passive Aggressive Dinner Theat-Re Part Deux

2006-04-23T06:34:00.000-07:00

Lets talk snooping.

What is the line between snooping and general curiosity?

For sure, rumaging through drawers, closets, etc. not knowing what you are looking for but looking for something... Is definately snooping. DEFINATELY. And I do not condone this activity.

But as my very intelligent brother points out over and over again... Life is a gray area. I struggle with which shade I should occupy.

SO this leads me to my question of the day... If you know the location of something, can you look at it? If you have the key to something, can you open it? And with this logic, when does it become a problem?

Passive Aggressive Dinner Theat-Re.

2006-04-21T13:07:00.000-07:00

So, I am thinking of renaming my blog "Passive Aggressive Dinner Theatre"

It can be my place to rant, sans the names, about the things that I think of daily.

Hence- Passive Agressive Dinner Theatre. We will serve Spaghetti and Truthballs Daily.

We will try this on for size.

Rant Number One: At what point does one become a born again virgin?.... At what point does one consider joining a convent?.... And if you are willingly not having sex does that time frame go down?.... And if it at the hands of the universe, do you get to count it?.... What are the rules?

I am DYING to know.

2006-04-20T10:27:00.000-07:00

I had this roommate, Mich...

Mich was a Maine-ard. Relocated to the Sunshine state...

She met this boy, Marcus.

Marcus had just been broken up with. But she did it anyways. They got closer and closer and closer...

She began spending the night at his house. And every morning she woke up to a large 11 x 17 photograph of the ex, Ellen.

We all laughed, we all joked. But secretly, it drove her crazy.

So what did she do? She embraced it. She began talking to Ellen before she went to sleep, after her and Marcus **Ahem** Exercised... And in the morning, before she left, she kissed the picture goodbye.

Ellen became her religion. Ellen became her relic.

I love that story.

Bliss

2006-04-17T21:15:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful, long overdue conversation with my dear and darling friend .Little wing the other day.

This girl and I have been through some serious shit together. And always, she stood beside me. Whether she agreed or not, whether she was angry or not, or whether she was happy about it or not.

This girl sat up on the roof with me while I chainsmoked, dissecting all of the parts of my life in 2001.

This girl bought me my most prized posession, that I still sleep with every night in 2002... (Get your mind out of the gutter, it is a blanket)

This girl piloted the 'Girls Against the Superbowl party' with me in 2003.

This girl is my heart and soul.

This girl knows more about me than I know about myself sometimes... We were talking about happiness. About my happiness in general. She was there with me during college, part one. She was there with me during my Disney Stint, and she was there with me after the Disney thing... And she is still with me, even if I don't get to see her daily.

She made me realize something. I am really really happy. My life is happy. Things are going well. Because, I am happy.

And Happiness is fucking amazing

Oh how I love my Twenty- Four Year old Metabolism

2006-04-14T08:18:00.000-07:00

As I sat watching a movie on Monday night, I swear to you that I could feel my fat cells engorging. I swear. I could feel my chin turning into two, I could feel my ass spreading to be so large that it was coming dangerously close to needing two seats on airplanes, and I could feel my gut turning to Bill Cosby's favorite snack.

I know you think I am kidding, but sadly I am not.

The next morning, I woke up, stepped on the scale, and had gained seven pounds. For those of you who don't know what seven pounds is, it is the equivalent of smearing twenty eight (Yes... TWENTY EIGHT) sticks of butter randomly about your body. Gross.

Something had to be done.

Say it with me: Salad, Egg whites, Vegetables, and Grilled Chicken...

And I have lost 2.5 pounds!!!!!! Now, only twenty pounds to go.

2006-04-11T19:04:00.000-07:00

I had this dream that I was about to get my ass kicked by a bunch of latin gang members last night.

I dreamed that I was dressed like a latin thug.

I have come to a very obvious conclusion: I don't think it would be too thrilling to get my ass kicked.

But really, the funniest part of the dream was waking up... I woke up, scared out of my mind because I was wearing ghetto clothes. And bandanas. And really oversized shirts.

My inner self found it scarier that I was a fashion victim than the fact that I was getting my ass kicked...

Does that make any sense?

Taking a Moment to Mourn

2006-04-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

Way back in the days PB (pre blogging) I stumbled onto the whole blogging regime by accident.

The first blog I fell upon was Secret Simon. Secret Simon was a man who had two young children, a lovely wife, and a home in the suburbs of a sunshine state. Life, on the exterior, was seemingly good. One small problem: he was gay.

Simon chronicled his coming out, and other life happenings.

It was, to say the very least, inspirational to me. The idea of seemingly perfect exteriors and ravaged interiors was something that I knew all too well. The fact that no body knew what I was dealing with was also something that I knew all too well. The idea of keeping up appearances was less than foreign to me.

Recently, Simon divulged his voice. After divulging his voice, he divulged his face. Then Simon let people know his real name.

Then Simon did something that all of us will do eventually... Simon quit writing. He has said his goodbyes and packed up. Onto bigger and better things.

I am sincerely happy that he has made the decision that works best for him. I wish him well, but I think in all the time that I have been reading his blog, I forgot to say thank you. Simon, even though our stories have precious little in common, your blog meant the world to me. It wasn't just a good soap opera read, it was so much more...

Brings a tear to the eye....

2006-04-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

For your viewing pleasure, I have declared that you, the people, can take a stroll down memory lane in the form of pictures, with me.

Me and my Florida roomies. Yes, these are cheesy Christmas cards that people with two kids and a dog send out, and yes we had them made. Because we were family too. I love these girls. That was seriously, a great time.

This is me and June after a 'cheer up' shopping spree at target. Notice the Power Puff Girls Watch that I am sporting. Also notice our t shirts, they had the Power Puff Girls on them too. We were matching from head to toe, including our shoes. It was very lame. But so funny.

2006-04-07T09:40:00.000-07:00

And this is another Florida Picture. We rode test track six times in a row. This was picture number six. Notice my very dark tan. Another really good day.

And finally, a picture of me and my friend Meg at IHOP. We went there all the time in the middle of the night, dressed like that, and would eat cheese sticks, drink hot cocoa, and talk. We each have a set of IHOP mugs to prove it.

Maybe later, if I get bored, I will scan some more pictures in...

"Men love to be heard. It's like sexually theyr'e trapped somewhere between ape and caveman."

2006-04-06T08:41:00.000-07:00

Calling all males that read this blog (except you, santa dad. Don't read this).

I, Ms. S'Ghetti, NEED A GODFORSAKEN EXPLINATION!

Not that this has anything to do with my life, but fuck. Explain this to me.

Why do the XY's enjoy the idea of people knowing about their sex life via being heard? Why?

I will be the first to admit that my brother and I have had a longterm game of 'interrupt siblings nookie session.' And that is totally understandable, because you get to embarrass the shit out of a sibling, cease the pattern that is taking place, and generally it is like a grown up game of Stratego. I get that.

What I don't get is males WANTING their....errr.... Exercise partners to be heard from the next city, or to be heard by their roommates, or to be heard in general.

I am not saying that fucking in silence is a good thing... But What I am saying is do you really want people to know what is happening?

I need thoughts.

I know who reads this blog daily. And Dammit. If I do not get a comment on your thoughts and opinions on this subject matter, I may very well go postal.

And you don't want to turn me loose with a gun, do you?

PS- thank you to she who gave me the quote for this title, She is a genius. Sheer genius.

A stroll down memory lane.

2006-04-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

I have been watching my own little personal marathon of Sex and The City.

And it pretty much struck me.

My life is like a really twisted episode of the sacred show.

I love that show so much, because there isn't an episode that I cannot relate to.

Slight differences in my life include:

- No Saturday eggs with the girls. It is Sunday brunch with the boys. (Pssst. Hi Detroit boys!!!!)

- Me and my two closest girlfriends do not relate to just one character, it is more like a mesh of all of them.

- I cannot yet afford an obscene amount of shoes from high end designers.

In the spirit of 'My life is Sex and The City' I shall now tell you my favorite former dating associate story.

I had just ended a seriously bad relationship thing and was in the 'Drink lots. Go out lots. Act like a general fool lots.' phase-- One of my favorite people to hang out with? Kake, a former associate himself. Kake and I would go hit the town, drink lots of shots, wash the shots down with beer, and have a generally drunken pleasant time. Kake had an extremely attractive, just been dumped by his fiancee, friend. He shall henceforth be referred to as blueeyes. A match made in the fiery pits of hell. We went out and got drunk a few times, I would always sleep my drunkenness off at his place. We then began going out and getting dinner, sometimes we would dance. It was all in all a splendid little set up. I mean, he was entertaining. He was good looking. He was well mannered. He also had enough pot in his house to get half of Cambodia high. But whatever, we all have our flaws.

Anyways, after a few outings, we went out and got drunk one more time. I awoke the next day to 'breakfast in bed.'

I had to get rid of him immediately.

I ran into blueeyes a few days ago. Akward. But I laughed on the inside through the enitire conversation.

Normal Me is not the picture of normalcy

2006-03-31T08:14:00.000-08:00

I have come to the conclusion, many therapy sessions later, that I am the picture of mental health.

I am the fucking snapshot on the cover of the DSM IV.

That is a total lie.

But, a dear friend brings up the poignant arguement that maybe none of us are completely sane. Maybe none of us work in a 'Normal' way.

I will readily admit that I have different moods. Daily. Maybe these moods can be renamed to different personalities.

I also talk to myself... Not in the 'lets make a list' sense, but in the full blown conversation sense. Just this morning I was having a full blown discussion about my breakfast choice. S'Ghetti 1 wanted a Lean Pocket. S'Ghetti 2 wanted Chex cereal and a banana.

For the record, S'Ghetti 2 won. She usually does.

Some call it quarky. Some call it weird. Some call it just plain fucking nuts. I shall hence forth refer to myself as the picture of normalcy.

2006-03-29T09:05:00.000-08:00

This is one of those weeks that complete strangers decide it would be very appropriate to divulge their innermost secrets to me.

The funniest thing about this is that I am so SO SO bad at hiding my true feelings. Ask anyone that spends a nominal amount of time with me, and they will be happy to tell you. I am awful at it.

So, Monday, I was sitting in class. Random pregnant girl sits down, asks how I am doing, I say fine, and return the smalltalk favor and ask how she is doing. She then divulges that her boyfriend (AKA Babydaddy) is more than likely cheating on her. She goes on to say that the day the child was conceived she caught him in bed with another woman. But not to worry, they have worked it out and are going to have the baby and live happily ever after. Only she is fairly certain he is still cheating. The look on my face must have been priceless.

Tuesday, more of the same. Class acquaintance is sitting next to me, I am talking on AIM to a friend who had sent me some pictures, class acquaintance leans over and says "I am two and a half months pregnant." I nearly fell out of my chair. She then goes through the story of how she found out on Friday, it was a complete shock. Her boyfriend, upon hearing this news, said something to the effect of 'I love you but I am not madly in love with you.' Followed by 'I never want to get married, and I never wanted children.'

I spend my time making statements to my girlfriends and gayfriends like 'boys suck' and 'men are the scum of the earth' and on and on and on... But I realized something, girls are stupid. S- T- U- P- I- D. In fact, I would go so far to say that the entire human race is made up of walking talking idiots.

Lets Evaluate the situation...

2006-03-27T19:38:00.000-08:00

Time for another infamous S'Ghetti intervention.

Friends, I am worried about my best friend.... Really truly worried.

For my better half, June 'the bitch' Cleaver, has declared her deep rooted desire to attend a highschool prom.

June is not an ugly girl.

June, though bitchy at times, is not ugly on the inside either.

June was in attendance at her highschool prom.

June simply wants to go because she thinks it would be lovely to get a pretty dress and have her hair done. Never mind the fact that she gets her hair done all the time. Never mind the fact she can do her own up do daily.

Yes, my friends, it is time to buy June a special white jacket that ties her arms behind her back (also referred to as a straight jacket) and drive her to North Texas State Hospital for a lovely... Ahem... Vacation, of sorts.

Please, June, if you really want to wear a pretty dress, I suggest you go on a cruise.

A purge of thought.

2006-03-23T20:54:00.000-08:00

At the risk of taking away from the beauty of my very gaudy ring, I have something on my mind... Tugging at me... And I need to remove it.

I feel the need for change. I feel the need for something new, something shiny, something different. I don't think I am ready to grow up, and with graduation looming closer by the day, I find it hard to go to class. I am not ready. (Insert jokes about being 24 and still in college here.)

But the bottom line is, I made some choices, and walked some paths that made me be grown up. It is overrated.

I am not ready for the real world. I am ready for real money, but the thought of pushing papers and sitting behind a desk for forty hours a week makes my gag reflex work overtime.

It is not the people that I am leaving. I love the people that are in my life, I love my friends, I love my family. I couldn't do what I do without them...

I know it is inevitable. I know that one day I will have to bite the bullet and do it. But that day is not today.

Today, I decided I want to do something unforgettable this summer. I want to be somewhere that is sunny with lots of pools all summer. I would also like to make money.

Tall order, I know. But I have a couple of choices.

1) Go back to Disney, and complete a summer internship.

2) Be a camp counselor.

I became so wrapped up in the idea of sun and water that I applied. To both. I then bounced my plan off of three people. Reactions???

Scotty Pants: Go for it. Have fun with that.

June 'The Bitch' Cleaver: Lots of yelling via AIM, and then in essence an 'I will no longer discuss this with you' hang up. (Which is signing off without saying goodbye- in our little nettiquite world... That is very hostile)

Mother: "Well if you make that choice, I will choose to sell the house and move." (Thereby fucking me for the rest of my collegiate time. As I will have no free place to live, and will then have to go to work full time, go to school full time, and be generally full time busy. Which, as most of you know, will make for an extremely unhappy S'Ghetti)

Well FUCK!!!

And the thing is that I made myself a promise not too long ago that I would be my own biggest fan, I would be my own biggest supporter, I would never NEVER NEVER lose myself in anyone or anything ever again. I promised all of that. Not to someone, to myself.

So if I back down off of my plan, is it selfish? Is it smart? Or is it giving in, and thereby breaking my pact with myself?

'It is not tacky, it is tasteful, in a very gaudy way.'

2006-03-23T18:56:00.000-08:00

Here Yee, Here Yee...

Announcing the arrival of the most beautiful thing on the block.

Her name; Jesebelle

A Five Carat Smoky Topaz, set in yellow and white gold.

A fine dellicacy if I do not say so myself.

Tag homage.

2006-03-23T12:00:00.000-08:00

On my Myspace account, I was tagged.

So I shall pay up here.

Five Interesting things that people do not know about you:

1) Recieving presents from people outside of my family makes me nervous. I also judge the gift mostly by the card that is attached to it. In other words, the card is more important than the gift.

2) I hate to brush my teeth. I do it anyways, but it is by and by the worst activity of the day.

3) I have an unnatural fondness of my bed. I also keep many random items in bed with me including but not limited to: scissors, telephones, medicine, my computer, and a Mr. Potato Head toy.

4) I have a hammer in a heart shaped vase sitting on my nightstand. I don't know why it is there, but I kind of like it and I have no intention of moving it.

5) I like to drink anything and everything from wine glasses. Wine glasses make everything taste better.

OK. There you have it. Five interesting things about me.

Who shall I tag?

-Scotty Pant
-Bryan
-June
-Andreaguita
-So Not Right

Have fun with that...

Sleeping beauty never dreamed.

2006-03-22T05:01:00.000-08:00

Dreams.

I don't like for anything to disturb my beauty sleep.

When it is an act of my own mind, I become unneccesarily frustrated.

I am not really sure WHAT the dream was about but I do know that it involved me breaking and entering, traveling cross country in an old ass mini van with lawn chairs instead of regular seats, changing a flat tire, and sustaining my existance off of teddy grahams.

On another note, something fabulous is brewing today....

Something super shiny will be born.

Be excited. Be very excited.