Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Things I miss

She did it again. What did she do, you say? Posted something so cute and thought provoking that I absolutely must steal the idea and do it on my own blog.

Things I miss.

High School.
The Brick Yards.
Common Courtesy.
Socks that have a match.
Going to the movies on a whim.
Making cobbler with my Granny.
Being 14 years old and walking all day long with my best friend.
Having sex wherever and not worrying about little people waking up or walking in.
Having a place to wear those strappy high heels that I adore with an indulgent lust.
Cleaning the house and having it last more than 30 minutes.
Friday night high school football games.
Walking to the post office.
Wearing whatever I want.
Sleeping as late as I want.
Eating anything I want.
Rotary dial phones.
Roller Coasters.
Driving fast.
80's Music.

Some of these I miss every day, some I only miss at fleeting moments when I recall bits and pieced of my wonderful youth.

Monday, November 29, 2004

What doesn't make me lose my lunch

Warning: This post will contain copious amounts of silly jibberish pertaining to reality tv, and more specifically Survivor. .

Ok. I'm a total Survivor junkie. I have been for all nine seasons. I could even go so far as to mention that I've sort of, kind of seen like all the ummm... episodes. Yup. Every one. I heart Survivor. In all actuality, I'm addicted to reality tv. Whether that be Survivor, The Amazing Race, Cops or Court TV. Let me point out that I'm not overly amused by the more romantic reality fare. The Bachelor pretty much makes me want to lose my lunch. Temptation Island was fun to watch, strictly for the eye candy. [Paused for a brief smut fest] Remember that raunchy couple from season 1? The chick had long red hair and he was tattooed to the nines. She He was hot. [back to regularly scheduled geekiness] My favorites lean towards the action packed stunts and rock hard abs. Fear Factor, Survivor, Amazing Race, Rebel Billionair [he's hot in that old man with alot of money and great hair kind of way].

But Survior, oh my Survivor. You stole my heart once again tonight. Thanks to my handy DVR that rescued you from nothingness, I was able to laugh and cry with you tonight. Yes, I cry. Shut up. When the loved ones come running out and the cast aways see them and they both start to blubber and get snotty... omg, I just can't help it. I bawl like a little baby. It's emotional and tense and funny and sarcastic and bitter and and and..... there I go again.

I think I need therapy. Twila Tanner and Scout are absolute survivor playing geniuses. I'm really not privy to their real life academia but from a survivor standpoint, they are in a league with Richard Hatch. [Who I hate with a satanic disgust, btw]

I do need therapy.

Random semi-meaningless obvservation from a night out "on the town".

Last night Krista and I both decided that we seriously needed some girl time. A "ladies night out" if you will. God, that sounds so cliche. After getting each of our families semi-sorta settled into their evening activites we met at my house to hit the streets. Well, the local hole-in-the-wall, honky tonk, hippie-biker hang out would have to do in a pinch. This little dive is so typically southern that it's adorable. It's set back in the woods, in a place where you have to know where you're going or you will surely get lost and eaten by the children of the corn if you attempt to navigate without a guide. Man, I love Texas.

I'm pretty sure that the "Boxcar" has been around since the dawn of time. It's your typical everyday honky tonk, complete with a jukebox that plays a wide variety of country and southern rock, a couple of pool table that still charge you only a dollar to play, a long glossy, sandy shuffleboard game and a dance floor the size of a postage stamp. And, and, and they have a LIVE band on Saturday nights! A band called "Southern Flight" that dabbles in (of course) country and southern rock. The next statement requires extreme caps. WE HEARD LA BAMBA PLAYED LIVE AND IN PERSON. Yep, you read that right. La Bamba. How fucking lucky are we? ::end sarcasm::

Krista and I both wore our cutest blue jeans and our stompiest boots (NOT cowboy boots mind you) and our sexy tops that almost reveal a bit of cleavage but not really. It was made evident last night by both of us, that I have the boobs and she has the butt and if we could just combine our collective qualities we would indeed be the perfect woman. I must point out that the perfect woman would probably be severely unbalanced from a mental standpoint, because everyone knows that Krista and I both are both mentally unstable to a fantastic degree.

I must also point out for the record that I got atleast SEVEN compliments on my LEOPARD print top that I was almost too embarassed to wear. Granted, it's a really cute top, but really, who wears leopard prints anymore? Only the severely unbalanced individual. I would post a picture of the two of us, but I don't want to overwhelm the internet with cuteness. (In all honesty, we actually didn't take any pictures because we were in such a hurry to get there and start consuming cheap alcohol that we couldn't be bothered with the time it takes to click a shutter.)

It took Krista a while to loosen up and have fun. I think she was nerved out over the lack of big-ass egos and 3-piece suits. Eventually the tuaca shots and cranberry backs started to take effect and I honestly think she started to have FUN. We played pool and chatted with all of the regulars, made some friendly conversation with the out-of-towners and flirted with the old men. If you have never taken the time to flirt with someone you're totally unattracted to, you really should. It's empowering. It proves that you can be friendly and have fun and not have to fit into that little box that you build around yourself. We all have our little boxes. The one that says you need to try and impress the neighbors. The one that says you can't be bothered with talking to those old guys in the too tight leather pants. Really, those leather pants are just a symbolism for the fun and frolic that we all long to possess.

Yea, we had a good time.

Hey Krista, same time, same place next week?

(This is a re-post from my other blog. It was written on 11-21-04.)

Thursday, November 25, 2004

kids, dogs and coffee

Happy Turkey day everyone.

I have so very much to be thankful for this year. I could sit and write and write and write and never come to the end of my list. I have a wonderful, adoring family. Friends who love me and put up with me even at my worst. Dogs who don't chew up my underwear. (Anymore.) A house. It's a warm house. Two cars that run great, a giant king-sized bed, and a bathtub that will fit two. I do have alot to be thankful for. Here's more...

10 things to be thankful for.

1. My gorgeous children. They make my life worth living, while driving me insane all at the same time.
2. Down comforters.
3. Medicine! Oh how I love thee....
4. Husbands who bring home Victorias Secret just because...
5. Dogs that sit in your lap and look at you with adoring eyes.
6. Cell phones - Where would we be without them?
7. Coffee. Java. Starbucks. Caramel Machiattos. Capuccino. Breakfast Blend.
8. My Mother; who inspires me to be more than I am.
9. My Grandmother; who will be getting married in 2 months at the age of 76.
10. Coconut body butter.

I hope you have atleast 10 things to be thankful for this year.

I wish you peace.


Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Rocking my socks with quality

Let me just share something with all of you. BlogExplosion rocks my socks. In the past three days I've discovered more quality blogs than I have in the past 6 months. I'm overwhelmed with all of the quality out there. I've always just read the same few, and while those few are awesome, quality blogs; WOW, there really is so much quality out there. The variety is simply endless. Not to mention the design blogs that are driving me absolutely insane with the NEED to have a new quality blog template. Between Blog Moxie, Web-Divas and Ciao! My bella I'm not sure that I can continue this brave show of strength. I'm crumbling under the pressure. I need one of those shiny, snazzy, superb templates. Maybe I can ask hubby to buy me a new quality blog for Christmas. (Geez, does that make me a total nerd?)

Anyway. I found Genuine today while surfing BE and he has inspired his readers to spend 10 million dollars of his newly acquired kajillion dollars, that Bill Gates has so graciously bestowed upon him.

Well, first and foremost I would pay off all of my bills, my families bills, my friends bills, my neighbors bills and my kids teachers bills. (They work HARD...)

I would then buy a shopping mall. Not just any shopping mall, but the most superior of all shopping malls. The Dallas Galleria. I would then build my house right in the middle of the mall and call it my own. I would wear a different pair of shoes every day for the rest of my life.

Well, it's a good start anyway...

Hopefully all of those repeated mentions of quality will subconsciously convince my dear husband that having a new blog template is an absolute necessity in the maintenance of a blog.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Where my ass pleads for help.

Ok. Here's the deal. I'm not fat, but I'm not skinny. Anymore.

I've never had a problem with my weight until the last year or so. Incidentally, when I started taking anti-depressants. {*#!$^} On the other hand, I'm not sitting in the closet with my head between my knees anymore, so that's a good thing.

Regardless, I can't continue to be content with this extra 15 pounds. I don't necessarily need to be a size 6 again, but that would be nice. None of my "cute" clothes fit anymore. My pants are PISSED. They're feeling neglected and the entire closet is starting to give me dirty looks as I walk by. I can hear it whispering "Look at that ass. What is she thinking!"

I know what I need to do. I need to change my habits. But dammit, I like my habits. I like eating hostess snack cakes and jelly beans for lunch. It makes me HAPPY. I like getting my exercise by lifting the laundry basket and running errands. Shouldn't that be enough? C told me that if I really wanted to lose weight, that I just needed to exercise more. I told him that I DO exercise. I do. I really do. I walk miles, every damn day. Going back and forth all over the house doing laundry, making beds, pacing because I'm chatting on the phone. These things take up ALOT of my day, surely I'm burning some serious calories.

Ok, I need to change my habits. This is not going to be easy. I've realized that my whole life; I've been lucky. Serious rock star kind of lucky. I've never even had to think about my weight, much less worry about it. Now, I have mocking pants and shy, scared tank tops.

I want to wear sheer, shiny fabrics again. No, I dont want to wear curtains, but a sexy little teddy would be cool.

Back to the dreaded habit changing horror. How do I do that? I'm serious. I need help. Tell me what to eat. Tell me the best way to exercise at home. If it involves kids and throwing things, EVEN BETTER.

Is it wrong?

My children are cleaning house. Thanks solely to my amazing ability to inspire.

Well, the promise of jelly beans probably didn't hurt.

Monday, November 22, 2004

Make it go away.

It's amazing what having a mental disorder can do for your sense of humor. Really. Let's think about this.

I've been slightly, ok severely, emotional my entire life. I cry at the drop of the hat. However, I laugh at almost everything. I found out last summer that I'm also bipolar, which in itself is hilarious. Those individuals with bipolar disorder have severe mood swings. Shifting from delirium to despair in about 3 seconds. Yea, I could have told you that. I'm a gemini. The sign of the twins. Is any of this sinking in yet? It's a circle that I will never be able to break. Two opinions about everthing. Wishy-washy ideas and goals. Serious issues with monogamy and not a "single" favorite thing to be claimed. Everything comes in doubles. Double the pleasure, double the fun. Double the heartache.

If it's not obvious, I've been off of my medicine since last Friday. I tend to get morose and loquacious when that happens. Earlier I was crying on C's shoulder about how horrible of a person I am, and now here I am thinking things really aren't so bad. If I knew any better, it would make my head spin.

I despise being a slave to medication. For some reason, I find it to be a huge source of weakness in myself. C likes to compare bp with diabetes when I get in moods like this, and that just pisses me off even more. Diabetics have to take a shot or they DIE. I should be able to control this. Harness it. Make it go away. Knowing that I have to take those 2 pills or I'm going to become a raving, depressive lunatic is a little disconcerting, albeit funny. It's interesting to me that I can be on my medication, taking it everyday and feel like a totally normal person, yet I get off of the medication and I instantly hate myself. I wonder why I even bother with the stupid pills, they don't work, I'm so weak and pitiful. Blah, blah, blah.

Here comes the funny part. I know sitting here right now, that it's irrational. I know that I need the pills because of a chemical imbalance in my brain. I know that I have a family to take care of, kids to enjoy, a sexy husband to make out with. Yet I still torture myself with the melodramatic B.S. everytime I run out. Lord, save me from myself.

On the bright side, I have a Dr's. appointment on Wednesday morning. I will cry and wail and he will convince me that I am normal. I'll come home with a bag full of goodies i.e. drugs and all will be well in the world.

/end pity party

A, B, C...

I was reading Gloveboxsandwiches earlier and came across this nifty little meme. I figured I might as well participate, you know, since I'm feeling like really SO uncreative today.

A is for: Anomalous Noodge
B is for: Blogger
C is for: Cowboy Chicken
D is for: Daisymaie
E is for: Elementopia
F is for: Fickle Whimsy
G is for: Gloveboxsandwiches
H is for: Hotmail
I is for: Idly
J is for: JennsAbsent
K is for: Kalsey Button Maker
L is for: LissaExplains
M is for: My Yahoo
N is for: Netflix
O is for: OkCupid
P is for: Photobucket
Q is for: QuirkyChick
R is for: Ringsurf
S is for: Stop Design
T is for: Thesaurus
U is for: Unprofound Photos
V is for: VoxSpace
W is for: W3Schools
X is for: Nothing
Y is for: Nothing
Z is for: Nothing

Wow. That was a much bigger waste of time than I thought it was going to be.

Leave me a comment and let me know if you post this on your own blog. It's fun surfing the different links.


10 things NOT to do at 2am.

1. Call old friends from high school to see if they still have that skirt you
loaned them in 10th grade.

2. Make the regrettable decision to "fix" your blog template.

3. Decide the kids room really needs to be vacuumed.

4. Hang that mirror that has been sitting in the hall closet for months.
(Hammering is BAD.)

5. Think that maybe.. just maybe a cup of coffee will lull you to sleep.

6. Wake up your husband to tell him that the lawn could really use mowing.

7. Attempt to drag every bit of the furniture out of the kitchen in a
vain effort at
quiet mopping.

8. Pay bills. This is a particularly bad idea at 2am.

9. Figure the checkbook. (See item 8.)

10. Decide that you really should organize those 9,012 pictures that you
haven't gotten around to in the past 10 years.


Do you have those days? Those days where you find your mind wandering...

I stand up and walk to the laundry room to feed the machine and I suddenly stop. Where am I going? Why am I standing in the kitchen? What did I come in here for?

Oh yea... The laundry. As I pour the soap and sort the clothes, I think of lighthouses and a sandy beach. Sipping a mai tai while lounging on a deck chair. I imagine that the sounds of the water rushing into the machine are in fact the sounds of a waterfall. A magnificent rushing waterfall set in a jungle. As I sit at the edge of the falls, with the water spraying my legs I listen to the sound of my own heartbeat. Beating. I look up and see a mountain. An awe-inspiring mountain that leaves me breathless in its beauty. The wildflowers are a foot high and they stretch for miles. I stroll through them letting my hands graze the tops, letting the petals tickle my palms. Next I'm gripping the bar as the rollercoaster slowly makes it's way up the towering hill and then I scream like a banshee as we careen down the other side. Now I'm taking the clothes out of the dryer. Folding.

Daydreaming.... If only that Mountain wasn't this pile of clothes needing to be washed...

Sunday, November 21, 2004

I love it....

when you find the humor in my inane desire to set your armpit hair on fire. You understood that it just looked so fluffy and flameable.

Readers should be aware that I didn't actually catch his armpit hair on fire. I merely stated a desire to do so.

For reference sake

In what would seem to be the unlikely occurence that tBlog MAY come back up, here is my address over there.

And she said

In case you we're wondering.

Let's try something new

After repeated head banging due to a very unfortunate experience with a less-than-stellar blog site, I'm finally here on Blogger. I've seen the light. No one ever accused me of being anything less than stubborn, and I kept convincing myself that this other platform would live up to their promises. But alas, it is not to be... Goodbye tBlog. Good riddance.