I just got back from a magnificent two hour lunch, but hush (don't tell my boss), to discover I had a new comment on my blog posted earlier today titled "A whole lot of la-ti-da". It shocked me, almost scared me, because I didn't know anyone else but myself and maybe the occasional friend read my blog. Once upon a time, people use to read my blog, a lot of people, and then one tragic day I locked myself out of my blog for a good five months. And do you know what happens to a blog that goes dormant for five months? It's readers just sort of disappear, they forget it every existed and move on to a new blog.

but it's nice to know a few newbies are stumbling upon my blog, and it is just that much more exciting when those newbies are fellow bloggers, considering how much I love blogging.

P.S. did any of you vote this year in the Bloggie awards? If not you have until 10pm tonight to do so. You better hurry the hell up.


Do you know what I wish? I wish that all dogs could be like Vega, and mostly because Vega is the only dog in the entire world (of course this excludes the dogs I have never met) that I am almost completely not allergic to, unless of course I pick her up and rub her all over my face. And don't assume I haven't contemplated it, Vega is just that lovable.

My allergy to dogs depends on a lot of things, including the breed, how often it is bathed, and even how much time I have spent with the dog. This can be tricky when you are a person who has grown to love dogs as much as me, or if you are a person who likes to date people who have dogs. It's mostly impossible for me to know how I will react to their best friend, and sometimes it can be a complete mood killer. Short of sticking razor blades in your tampons, there are few things as unpleasant as feeling snot run down your nose while engaged in a rigorous game of tonsil hockey.

I just don't know what to do or how to handle this. I guess I could fill up on some Benadryl pre-date but considering how tired I always am already, that may not be a good idea. I'd probably end up face first into a plate of pasta, or something equally as embarrassing. I could date people who don't have dogs, but have you met those people? They are a lot like me, and I would not want to date me. The only real option I have is to spend some time with the furry monster and grow an immunity to it. That could take some time... I feel like I have a lot of stuffy nights ahead of me.

A whole lot of la-ti-da...

It's yet again another day of no work here at Sun, and while I rather enjoy getting paid to do nothing, I am simply not creative enough to entertain myself at a computer for eight full hours. I wonder if I just sneak out and come back at leaving time if anyone would even notice? Chances are, probably not, but then I would be stuck at home doing the very same thing I am doing here. Only difference would be I could be in my pajamas. Speaking of pajamas, I do miss my pajamas. It seems ever since I started dating this Mack kid I have not spent enough time in my pajamas because apparently it's not proper etiquette to go out in public on a date with a pair of pink fuzzy slippers and heart printed shorts on. Good thing my mother knows about these kinds of things.

Apparently, having a social life also means neglecting your pajama duties, I had no idea. I just hope all this dating pans out to be worth it, if not I am going to be very upset about all that lost time I could have spent wearing my pajamas, drinking jasmine tea, and read a really bad book.

Geeze, no wonder I have no life.


What ever you do, don't push the red button!

"It just doesn't feel right.There is something missing. Do you know what I mean?"

And when he said that it was, for me, the equivalent of him pushing my red button. Yes, I have a red button. It's warm and has a pulse and without I would fall dead to the floor.

And for as many time as I have heard him say that and then move on to the next crazy floozy you'd think I'd no longer wonder if that "something missing" was me. Like "It just doesn't feel right. There is something missing, you are missing my love." And then we would run off into the sunset and live happily ever after.

What a bunch of bull. I use to imagine that was how he felt only because it's what I wanted him to feel. I wanted him to compare every girl he laid his hands on to me, much like I did every man I met to him. But those days are over. So why in the hell do I still wonder if that is what he means when he says "something is missing?" It could be that I am just bat shit insane, that the only way for me to let him go is to imagine that he regrets leaving. Or maybe, just maybe it's the truth. I guess I'll never know.

However, when I step out of the picture and look back, and then look ahead, I discovered I like what I see in front of me better than what is left behind. Behind me is a trail of mental carnage so full of lies and deception. Where I stand now is an empty clean slate for me to start new with, and I have a long road ahead of me. With what it took to get here I'm not willing to step back into the carnage. In a year from now I want to look back and see something spectacular, something that warms me.

So sorry darlin' but there won't be any button pushing for you today.


On feeling like a teenager again...

The last time I felt like a teenager I must have been sixteen, which was the year right before I had to do all that growing up and face motherhood. But last night as I sat in a car parked out front of my mother's house kissing Mack while listening to rock music on the radio and trying not to let my libido get carried away I couldn't help but to think we both could have been mistaken for a couple of hormonal teens about to get a talking to from my mother.

I was pulled back into reality when he insisted I stay there a bit longer, lips interlocking, but I had to go. A five year old was waiting for me to read him a goodnight story after tucking him in and scaring all the monster out from under his bead. Though feeling like a teenager again, if even for a second, was fantastic, I wouldn't go back and reclaim it if it meant sacrificing those quieter moments with my son.

Needless to say I feel silly this morning. it could because of my momentary experience of youth last night, or it could be because my anxiety from this weekend has finaly subsided. At one point last night I remember thinking as I was looking at a man how much I wanted to touch him and do naughty things to him. It's been a long time since I've had such thoughts. I think all this is a good sign the old me is back, and I think better than ever.

Why do I ever bother to get out of bed?

Today, I am being paid to do nothing all day. That is eight full hours of nothing. You may ask how this is any different from the every other day at work, and I will tell you I'm not so sure. Except, I do know today is the first day I will have to spend the full eight hours here doing nothing. Usually they find something, anything, for us to be occupied with even if only for fifteen minutes. We were warned about this yesterday when our boss told us to bring in a book or maybe our banjo, but I was almost sure they would find some pathetic and boring task for us to complete (like cleaning toilets). Our qualifications must not be toilet rated, I guess they decided to leave that one up to the professionals.

Now I just have to keep myself occupied for seven hours and twenty more minutes. I have one book that I am sure will be read twice cover to cover within two hours, and then my sister has given me an assignment. Yes, you read that correctly.

The thing is my grandmother got an odd letter from some social security committee of some sort saying social security is safe and no one needs to worry. At the end it asked for donations. Another letter was sent directly to my sister's husband from the social security department themselves stating how much he has paid into the fund and informing him to be cautious as the fund is likely not to be around when he is old enough to need it. Odd, isn't it? So it has now become my job to compare and research the two letters and write a detailed blog based on what I found. Wish me luck. And keep checking back to this page, with all the free time I have chances are I'll blog myself to death.


Trying to turn it all into white noise...

I had an interesting weekend. It was a weekend I would like to spend some time thinking about, but there is too much noise in my brain and I can't turn it off. I'm trying my hardest to sit here at work, task less, and write this blogs about my most intimate feelings. But thanks to my A.D.D. I can't ignore my co-workers conversation on religion long enough to form a complete thought in my brain, much less form it into a functional and complete sentence in this blog. I can't stop random thoughts about laundry or work or last nights dreams from intruding into my mind when they are so very uninvited.

And this is the insanity I have been dealing with all weekend. It's worse than it usually is, and when my inability to concentrate diminishes the level of my anxiety and insomnia rise. So at this moment I am so tired I could lean back and try for a nap right here at work, but too filled with an unexplainable gut wrenching sensation to actually fall asleep. Do you understand my dilemma?

For most people the weekend I had would leave them feeling like they are made of sunshine and puppy dogs. Most sane people, the kind of people who like people, would be thinking about the possible prospects ahead of them after a weekend like mine. But me? I don't like people. OK, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration. I like some people, like my family. I could spend all weekend wasting time involving myself with their crazy antics, and the truth is I would much rather spend the whole damn weekend fighting with them than going to a place where I had to interact with strangers because strangers are scary.

It's funny to sit back and remember the days when I was a shinning socialite. I had to be the life of the party, and couldn't end the evening without making a new acquaintance. I wonder how I went from "Miss. in the spotlight" to "Miss. back stage hiding in the closet". I think my new found introverted personality might be why I am stuck here with a consuming gut wrenching sensation, because for the first time in a while I forced myself to get out into the world and talk to a stranger.

And yes, the stranger was a boy. In fact, he seemed like a rather fantastic boy.

Do you know that at this moment I feel like I might regret writing that sentence because some day down the road he might read it and in some bizarre way it might mess something up? The problem is, I am always so worried what people are thinking or how they may react to me, to my family, to my friends, to my thoughts, even to the color of my t-shirt! The only reason I worry about these things is because I worry I will be misunderstood, and there is nothing worse to me than being misunderstood. To make things worse I tend to have different reactions to people than a normal person does because I can't turn off these thoughts floating through my mind. For example, a simple goodnight kiss can make me freeze up. And I'm not talking about the way a person might freeze up because they are a bit nervous in anticipation; when I freeze I forget to breathe and my heart stops pumping and I almost forget what I am doing because a million thoughts start to flow through my mind. No matter how hard I try I just can't stop them. Some of the thoughts are so simple, like which way should I tilt my head? Or, I wonder where this will lead. But the other thoughts are not so simple. I am almost sure most people don't wonder like I do if this one little kiss could be the beginning of my demise because I don't know what's coming next, and damn it I would like to know what will happen next so I can start worrying about that as well. Most people just shut off their mind, pucker their lips, and enjoy the moment. I wish I was one of those people.

And it's because I worry about small things like a kiss that I start to worry even more about why I worry about something as small as a kiss. I know I have scars from my past just like every one else. At one time or another someone has done something wicked to me, and like any normal and healthy human beings I have done my best to let it go and move on. It's just that I wonder if maybe some of those people scared me so badly I can't enjoy the simple things in life without a constant worry that those scars may be reopened. Basically, I'm trying to say I can't handle something as simple as a kiss because my daddy didn't hug me enough as a kid.

And suddenly I sound like someone who has a lot of emotional baggage. This, I hope, is not true and mostly because I have spent a good deal of my life accepting and overcoming my emotional hurtles. I just think it would help if I had someone who knew more about this stuff than me, someone I can run to when I can't understand and comprehend what I am feeling. I have no one like that. I don't have a therapist, and my family is quite possibly less qualified to understand what I feel and how to deal with it than I am. Coping skills were not something implemented into my family. My stepfather's solution to everything was to get angry and hurt people, so when I had trouble with my math homework I felt an irresistible urge to stab myself and others in the eye with a dull No. 2 pencil.

It's a wonder I found a way to overcome that kind of rage, and if you were to see me try to do an algebra problem now you'd be surprised how calm and relaxed my demeanor is even though I have no idea what I am doing. In fact, I am a very calm and laid back person considering all the worry and anxiety that goes on in my head. And I know it's a vicious cycle, a cycle I am concerned will doom me to a life spent alone talking to my fifteen cats while I watch soap operas and imagine to the point of delusion that it is my life on the T.V. screen.

I seriously do not want to be the cat lady. I need to get over my anxiety and find a way to believe that if I stop and take the time to care about someone new they just might take the time to care for me back, they just might not take advantage of my good will and kind nature, they just might not move half way across the country without giving me a proper goodbye. And even though I have moved on from that dark time in my life I still worry that every new person I encounter will do the same thing. truth be told, I could care less if the majority of the people I meet walk in and out of my life, chances are they were annoying me anyways, but what if I just happen to find that one person that feels like they belong? What if they do leave? The last time I suffered that kind of blow it almost killed me, I don't know if I could survive it again.

Do you see why I hate meeting new people yet? It's not because I hate people (not all of them anyways), it's because my mind is then thrust into this kind of thought process, and you can seriously only spend so much time in one day thinking about the what ifs before you go absolutely insane. I doubt It will matter because if I keep letting my mind enter this downward spiral, if I don't learn to just shut it up and enjoy the smaller moments, I will be that old lonely cat lady. If I believed in God my prayers would include something about how I wish never to become that, but since I am an Atheist I am forced to believe things happen to you because you make then happen. So I had better put on my big girl panties again, tell my mind to stop fucking worrying about all that nonsense, and just enjoy the people around me. And I mean really enjoy them.



My date is thirteen minutes late, which is OK as I just finished getting this sweater over my head and my teeth brushed. But the anxiety of having to get to know a new person is building up. I just need not to think about it. I hate people, and if I could I would be content with not ever meeting someone new, but then I would die a lonely old lady. Yucky! I guess I need to put my big girl panties on and realize their is more to having a social life than instant messenger and Myspace.

Breathe Tamy...


About being grumpy...

I am in a bad mood! I wonder, why? Maybe it's because I stood out in the cold for thirty minutes waiting for someone to come home and let me in the damn house because my key doesn't work. And why doesn't my key work? Because it was a key I had from years ago, that and the locks have since been changed.

I'm glad I only had to wait thirty minutes, but I was fearing the wait would be much longer so do you know what I tried to do? Like the smart girl I am, I tried to get onto the roof so I could get to the upstairs window. Funny thing is that was the only window that was unlocked; can you imagine the irony? So there I am wondering how in the hell to get on the damn roof when I see a stack of tires. Yes, I said tires. They were those big tires like you see on monster trucks, I think these did come off a monster truck. What they were doing in my Mom's backyard is a whole other story. Anyways, the tires were stacked on top of one another high enough I could stand shoulder to roof on top of them so I climb my chicken ass on up them. Only problem was, once I got up I realized there was no way of pulling myself up over the ledge except by the gutter, and my butt is far too big to be supported by a gutter.

I had to give up that brilliant idea and climb down. Next I figured I would try climbing down into the window well of one of the basement windows to see if it would open. It didn't, and then of course I got stuck in there. I thought someone would have to call the fire dept to save my ass.

And do you know what happened when my mom came home and found me sitting on the porch covered in dirt with ripped blue jeans from my escape in that damn pit? She laughed at me. Seriously, it was so not funny. Next time she drinks to much and passes out by the pool I'm just going to laugh at her and leave her there. That will teach her!

Tough love is a good lesson to learn...

Parents, sometimes our kids need a little tough love, and in some cases a lot of tough love. Now, I won't be rude and direct this at any one person, but if you know your kid sells drugs, gets in trouble for calling his classmate a cunt, calls his own mother a cunt, stays out till all hours of the night, and has complete disregard for adult authority, chances are it's time for a little tough love.

She said: "If I take away my car how will he get to work?"

I said: "Make him ride the bus."

She said: "But he gets off work at 2am. How will he get home? The bus does not run that late."

I said: "Make him ride a bike."

She said: "But he has asthma and it's too cold to ride a bike."

I said: "I have asthma too and I did it five miles both way."

She said: "But then I will be in the ER room picking him up."

I said: "Then make him take the bus to school and work, and pick him up from work at 2am yourself."

She said: "If he has to take the bus he just won't go, and I don't want to get up at 2am to pick him up."

I said: "If he doesn't go to school them give him other consequences like no work, or no girlfriend, or no concerts ect... And sometimes you have to suffer to teach your kids a lesson."

Does anyone else see a trend here? I know why this lady's kid is such a trouble maker, it's because she allows him to get away with everything, and instead of punishing him she makes excuses for him. It's bullshit. I know if it was my kid I'd take away all "privileges" like his cellphone, car, evenings out. Maybe I am just crazy but it is my personal belief that if you hold your kids accountable for the things they do and let them experience the consequences of their actions you kids will have a much better chance of being successful out in the real world by themselves. And if you don't those will be lessons they have to learn in the real world, which means they will have a disadvantage. Do you really want to be responsible for your kids disadvantage in an evermore competitive world?

Didn't think so, so stop whining about your bad kid and do something about it already.


To my fellow blogspot.com bloggers...

To answer the question blogger has posted to the right of your posts, "What is cooler than finding a box full of crayons." They definitely have that one wrong. The answer would be, "Finding a box full of vibrators."

Ok but seriously have any of you noticed the new labels feature? I like it, so I am going to start implementing it into my blogs. This will take time for me to get updated but I am very stoked about it. And if you don't know what "labels" is just go to the bottom of one of my blogs and find the "labels" link, then click on that link. What happens is you get to see all my blog postings under that same link. So if the label is politics, when you click on it all my blogs labeled politics will come up! Eeekkk!

Did I ever mention how much I heart blogger? No? Well, I heart blogger more than all the cyberspace on the world wide web! That is a lot.

Riding in cars with old ladies...

It's not quite as dangerous as riding in cars with boys, or is it? Oh it deffinetly is, even more so if that old lady is my grandmother. Seriously, people should never have to start their day the way I did this morning.

I don't know how many times I hit the snooze button, but I was in snooze mode for an hour and a half, at nine minutes a snooze you can do the math. I did more math yesterday that I am annually allowed. Anyways, I did eventually rise out of bed and toss some clothes on. After I got to work and took a look at myself in the bathroom mirror I wished I had take just a moment longer to wake up and consider my choice of wardrobe. Today it's me who looks like I was dressed by a blind gay cowboy. It was but fifteen minutes after I stumbled into my clothes that my grandmother was at the front door buzzing repeatedly on the door bell. Hey Grandma, just because you can't hear the door bell ringing doesn't mean it's not! I'm almost certain she is trying to create as much noise and ruckus possible so she will wake up James. I could say I care but I don't, mostly because she is the one who gets to watch him all day. And my son is worse than me if he does not get enough sleep, if you ever want to see the damage a weapon of mass destruction is capable of all you have to do is get my son out of bed at seven in the morning. Kindergarten should be loads of fun.

The trip to work was for once uneventful, It's like my grandmother's road rage took the morning off, and thank fucking God! But the thing about being around her early in the morning that really drives me crazy is her inability to hear you unless you shout at her. And I don't know about the rest of you, but when I shout I start to feel angry. By the time I make it to work I feel like punching someone in the face. It's not a good side effect to have. It's a good thing I don't hate anyone here yet, or I would no longer have a job.

Hey, does anyone else see the trend here? It seems to me when I'm not writing about the upcoming election I'm bitching about my morning. I think it's obvious mornings are not my thing. This is what I get for having a day job. Oh, and look, my hour and a half lunch is over. I should probably get back to doing the same thing I was doing before lunch, nothing.


I found some disturbing statistics...

I am still learning about how certain processes in the race for presidency work. My goal by the end of this election is to have a diverse understanding of the presidential election process. And we all know one of the most important (and entertaining if Bush is involved) part of an election is the Presidential debate. A debate can win or loose votes, change minds, embarrass politicians, and make or break a candidate. No wonder they are such a big deal.

So why don't more people tune in and watch these important events? Did you know that in 1960 the first Presidential debate was broadcast live over television and radio; over 66 million people tuned in. But by 2004, only 62.5 million people tuned in to watch the first Presidential debate of the season, and our national population has almost doubled. How is this? Did America stop caring to get informed and get involved?

I also discovered through a very thorough Google search, and by sources like this site, what the voting percentage is today, compared to 1960. Here is what I got...

In 1960 over sixty eight million people voted. It was Kennedy vs. Nixon. If you pay attention you know Kennedy (a Democrat) won, and by only 118,574 votes. That is comparitivley a rather small number, which also goes to show you why your vote does indeed count! Sixty-three percent of eligible voters voted that election.

In 2004 a little over a hundred and twenty-one million people voted. It was Bush vs. Kerry, and though I am a lover of the Democrats I have to say we didn't have a single good choice that election. And unless you are a total idiot you know Bush won. But because our population had doubled since 1960, that year only fifty-two percent of eligible voters got their word in. Do you people realize that is an eleven percent drop since 1960? We must get our vote in and get those statistics up America!

If you want to read more about the statistics I have provided feel free to check out this link. You can also check out this site which shows you a lot of interesting facts about every election ever, how many votes were made, and who won what votes.

That is assuming you have nothing better to do than read about politics. And in case you were wondering why I have become so boring, the thing is my job is so boring it's making me boring. It's the sad truth.

But I am psyched to see the first debate. And I did want to give everyone a friendly reminder to register to vote, in most states you must register thirty days in advance, but I would check just to make sure. And guess what else? No, Elvis was not on my bus this morning. Geeze, you suck at guessing. It's way better than that any ways. Republican Fred Thompson has dropped out of the election! Another one bites the dust!

And remember, vote responsibly, vote Democrat!

A blog to go...

I only have 2.3 minutes to tell you what I have been up to today, which is nothing much really, so I guess that works out well.

First of all, it was so very hard to get up this morning, but I made it out of bed, stumbled to work, managed to spill potato soup all down my jacket, but the fact that we had fresh bagels waiting for us in our training room made the potato soup catastrophe all OK.

Our trainer informed us we would be spending the day reviewing and doing hands on practice, for me this means a whole day of napping. And the best part is, last night I got an email from my boss telling me I would be getting a raise. And why? Because I am such a hard worker. Well, I am if you consider napping and doodling in your notebook hard work. I could seriously get use to a job like this.


I heart Hillary Clinton

If you have not figuered it out yet, I will be voting for Hillary Clinton, and I am so excited. Did any one else see her on the Tyra Banks Show? No? Go check out her blog to see a clip from the show here.

And remember people, vote responsible, vote Democrat.

Captain America says, "Democrats, fuck yeah!"

Talking to the ex-boyfriend...

I have accomplished nothing productive today, and there are so many productive things to be done. A.J. offered to pay me fifty bucks to do the dishes that he has managed to dirty in the last two weeks and not clean. After stepping into the kitchen and taking a good look at those dishes I changed my mind, it's just not worth fifty bucks. I also need to get some packing done, and have I told you how much I hate packing? No? Don't worry, there is not enough space in cyber-world to tell you how much I hate packing. The only thing I have done today was have an instant message conversation with the ex-boyfriend.

Hi Christopher!

It was an unusually pleasant conversation considering the history of our conversations. He also pointed out that he had become the butt of many of my blogs on this page. It's true, I have written many mean things about him here, but in my defense every thing I have ever written on this website is true! Everything! Because, unlike most every other blogger, I am never sarcastic! Never! I don't exaggerate, I don't make shit up for the sake of amusement, and I would certainly never bend the truth. Got that?

And really, Christopher was quite the ass.

What? I'm just trying to keep the tradition alive. Some how I sense some of you don't get the sarcasm. Oh, that's right, I'm never sarcastic on this blog.


Weenit's quote of the day...

In the words of Lewis Black...

"Our government told us you could protect yourself from a chemical attack with duct tape. The only way duct tape could save you is if you have enough to wrap yourself in it and suffocate to death before the chemicals got to you."


On loosing my mind...

Your ass is bigger than mine. Much bigger. Just because you can squeeze your cheeks into my jeans does not mean you should, nor does it mean your ass and my ass are the same size. Furthermore, I do not think this is an argument you and I need to have every single damn day. Asses aside, I think we should discuss this noise issue. You have a huge projection television downstairs, so why is there a need to watch the midget sized television from 1974 in the living room late at night? You know this wakes me up, and waking me up is a very good way to meet my ugly side, also known as the side of Tamy who will bite off your head if you look at her wrong.

So, I call a truce. You admit your ass is bigger, and much bigger than mine, and I will pretend like it doesn't even exist. That's right, next time I feel the need to make reference to the mass of your ass I will hold it back. I want you to know how much this will hurt me, almost as much as it will hurt you to take your evening noise downstairs. Which brings me to the other half of our bargain, if you want to watch the television when I am asleep you watch it down stairs. In return, I will make sure my shoes don't find there way onto my feet early in the morning while I get ready for work. Do we have a deal?

Your loving sister...


Politically incorrect: the most important blog I will ever write!

To my ignorant co-worker,

Everyone knows you don't discuss politics at the office, you silly fool. It's inevitable that if you do you're likely to piss someone off, and this time that someone is me. Now you have forced me to go and do something terrible; you have forced me to write a rather embarrassing blog about your very misguided, uneducated, and flat out ignorant thoughts on the upcoming election. If I could remember your name I would post it here on this blog so I could hold you personally responsible for the things I heard come out of your mouth, if only we wore name tags.

"Hilary will never win the race, America is not ready to accept a woman as President."

Wait, what? You mean America isn't for a reformed health care plan that covers everyone? Do you mean to tell me that America would not like a President who will bring their troops home, or build an infrastructure to support a "greener" way of living and rewarding those who do? Do you really intend to tell me with a straight face that you do not think America can handle a President that will work towards obliterating the national debt? Hell, lets just have Bush stay another term while we are at it.

Either you are really dumb, or your parents didn't hug you enough as a kid.

And lets not forget your attacks on Obama when you said, "Obama can't be President. You know if he gets elected some redneck from the back woods would pop him off."

It's a good thing those rednecks from the back woods don't have Internet or I would be getting a lot of hate mail on your behalf; I bet Martin Luther King Jr. turned in his grave when you said that.

But of all the things you said, insisting there was no way the Democrats would win the oval office this term was the boldest of all. I think you are wrong. Every proton and neutron in my body can feel it. I can taste it, I can smell it in the air. Do you smell that? It's not BO, that is the smell of a Democratic term. Smells good doesn't it?

And I think the rest of America knows it as well. Any one with a brain knows having a Republican in office again is like opening your front door to find your ex-boyfriend standing there with a bad case of acne and about twenty pounds heavier than when you left him. He's wearing a dirty t-shirt and is holding a case of beer for him and a three dollar bottle of cheap wine for you. chances are he'll bother you for a back rub until you give in so he'll shut the hell up, and then once you're nice and drunk he'll say he slipped as he tries to mount you missionary and stick it in your ass. He promises to pull out but forgets, and in the morning he's long gone but his mess of beer cans still litter your living room. A week later you're at the clinic taking care of the clap he left you with, and praying to God you start your period soon.

But having a Democrat in office is like opening your front door to find a very handsome and wealthy prince charming holding a fresh bouquet of roses and ready to whisk you off in his limousine to drink champagne and eat caviar at a restaurant where they don't list the prices on the menu because the clientel don't care. Later on back at your place he'll give you a foot massage because your heels gave you cramps, and he was even considerate enough to bring ribbed for her pleasure condoms and a fresh bottle of warming lube for when things got a little crazy. When you wake up in the morning he'll still be there making you pancakes and doing the laundry while you stay in bed and watch C-span. a week later you'll be seriously considering marriage as he calls and whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

That one was for the ladies... Anyways...

Now, I don't know about you but I'll go for the guy with the roses and lube, and I think America will as well because we have already done the ex-boyfriend. We know he is nothing but a looser who is reduced to fucking fat chicks because these days they are the only ones who will have him. To give him another chance would be insanity, which is defined by doing the same thing over again while expecting different results. I think insanity is what happened last election when even my sister voted for Bush again. It was definitely one of those WTF?!?! moments for me, but I have faith it will not happen again. In fact, I have so much faith that America will make an educated and informed decision this year when they vote, meaning a Democratic vote, that I am willing to bet my right to blog on it. That's right, if a Republican wins the White House this next presidential election I will never blog again; not on Weenit, not on Myspace, not even in the privacy of my own mind.

So America, remember this year when you are standing in that tiny voting booth, to vote for a Republican is to vote for a world without Weenit. What kind of a world is that? I expect you will all vote responsibly, and if you don't intend to vote responsibly you probably just shouldn't vote. It's a lot like drinking and driving.

But I am not worried, because by January 20th, 2009 a Democrat will be in office, and order will be restored to the world. And then in the words of my mother I shall say to those of you who didn't vote responsibly, "Naner naner, mother-fucking poo poo!"

I may be too often sarcastic but I do sincerely believe everyone who votes should make an educated vote and only an educated vote. It's my personal opinion that an uneducated voter can do more damage than good, so check out this link to learn more about who is running, where they stand on the issues, what their backgrounds are. I also encourage you to make use of Google and get involved. Oh, and don't forget to save the date, vote or die!

I've seen better days...

This morning it was cold, snot freezing in your nose cold. And on my way to work one of my ankle socks started to slip off of my foot inside of my shoe. So there I am, with a sock around my toes, frozen snot in my nose, thinking to myself...

OK, so there were no thoughts going on in my head at that time, because my brain doesn't work well when it is frozen.

It doesn't help that I am forced to survive another day of boring mindless tasks at work with only three miserable hours of sleep under my belt, at the sole fault of my sister. This morning I seriously considered starting sibling warefare by doing the one thing I knew would wake her up at six am, putting my shoes on and stomping loudly about the house until the noise and vibrations wake her from deep sleep down in her basement cave lair. But much like real warfare, when you are considering sibling warfare with someone like my sister you must tread carefully. She doesn't play nice, that and she is very malicious. In the end I tucked my tail between my legs and tiptoed about, knowing if I hadn't she would make my life more miserable than it already is.

But I swear if she doesn't shape up I'll be forced to flush the toilet while she is in the shower.


If you have ever dated your mom...

I really need to talk about the date I went on last week, what an embarrassment. And not just for him, but myself as well. To start, my sister told me he was twenty-four when he is, in fact, thirty-four. She says she must have misunderstood, but if I know my sister I knew she bluntly lied to me. And I'm sure she had good reason, considering I never would have gone on the date had I known he was so old. Not only was he old, but he was boring; I mean spoon my eyeballs out just so I could leave boring. And he looked like a blind gay cowboy dressed him, that is to say he was going for a look but had no idea what he was doing. It wasn't but an hour into the evening when I sat staring at him trying to figure out why he seemed so familiar, then it hit me! This guy was the younger male version of my mother! Don't get me wrong, I love my mom, but I don't want to date her.

This guy was super nice, but I can't understand why my sister's husband would think he would be a match for a girl like me. He doesn't even own a computer! Seriously? I couldn't live without my email and Google, I am beginning to seriously question Dan's judgment. That, and I am NEVER going on another date again!

Never been this bored...

Training has officially started her at Sun, and somehow I assumed it would be loads more engaging than last weeks training, which was not official training. I guess it was more like practice training, to get us prepared for how boring real training will be. I can't say I'm learning much from this all, except once I am done with training my job will be just as or more boring.

And I hate boring, it's a good thing they pay me very well. But the truth is, I don't know how much longer I can handle boring before I myself become boring, so I went to an interview to become a flight attendant last night. I have good feelings about it, but won't know officially till Friday if I got the job. So for the next few days I'll be playing the hurry up and wait game. Everyone, wish me luck, and you might see me the next time you're flying the friendly skies.


Just blah...

I'm feeling a bit under the weather today, and not in the stuffy nose kind of way. I just feel like I need a mental day, and be alone so I can sit and talk to myself like any sane person would do. It's just that there is never enough time in one day to get things done. If I had about thirty minutes to spare I'd tell you about my blind date, which by the way was like dating my mom. I could discuss the grueling process of finding and enrolling my son into daycare but then I would have to pull out the last few strands of hair I have left, and I just don't look good bald. I have this unsightly lump on the back of my head from an ATV accident and hair works as a nice camouflage. So as soon as I can find the time and/or energy, and wouldn't I be lucky to find both, I'll let you all know what it's like to date my mom.

But don't mention the daycare, it's a sore spot for me. Now please excuse me, I have some pills to go take.


What have I agreed to?

When you say goodbye to somebody you love, when you help them pack their things, and hold all your feelings inside as your last moment together is nothing as grand as it should be, and because you can't say three silly words you get a hug and not a kiss, you get a goodbye instead of an "I love you", it can take years to recover.

But it's not been years, only the better part of a year. Since then I've done a world of soul searching, and with the struggle of my life accepted that he was never coming back, and we would never have each other. But none of that means my feelings for him are gone. I still feel the same way I did about him today as I did a year ago, and I fear I always will. But I've come to accept our fate, with out that piece of mind I'd not be able to survive the days.

But because of this experience I've become a bit introverted. I'd rather not let another man in and give the opportunity to undo any of the intricate mending I've managed to devise. Sure, I've dated a bit but each time I knew I wasn't quite ready because he was always in the back of my mind reminding me how hard of an act he is to follow. So after a bit I just stopped, and reserved myself as a young woman destined to carry out her days alone and eventually die that way. Considering the headache men can be, I considered solitude the better of the two. But if you should ask my brother in law he would tell you other wise, as recently he's entertained the idea that I would be well suited for one of his co-workers. Every other night he calls to say he knows a guy who wants to take me out, and every time I've been reluctant to agree. This time, he didn't even give me the option. He just told the young man I had already agreed, before I was ever aware I was propositioned. At first I put up a bit of a fuss and insisted he tell his friend I had changed my mind but he refused, so I being the weaker of the two caved because what could one little date hurt? It's just dinner, and a double date none the less with Dan and my sister so I am on safe ground. But what if I do come to like this guy, I don't know that I feel ready to dive back into the world of dating. I have grown so comfortable with my single hood and the simplicity in not dating that I am not sure I am ready to abandon it. Well see I suppose.


Not unlike being gay...

I like to compare religion to sexuality. More specifically, being an atheist is much like being gay.

Oh my, can you hear that? It's the sound of keys clicking against the keyboard of angry readers writing me hate mail. Obviously they have never been an atheist or gay.

Though I may not be gay I know plenty who are, and I myself am an atheist. I've been through the process of understanding and accepting the fact that I am an atheist. I've come out to my family, and they reacted in just the same way the families of my gay friends did when they came out about their sexuality. They tried to convince me I was going through a phase. Once they realized I was serious they tried to change my mind; they tried to get others to change my mind. Eventually they learned to pretend like I was a God fearing citizen just like the rest of them. All this made me feel like an outcast. I no longer felt like I belonged, and all because I chose a belief that didn't conform to the popular beliefs of mainstream society. Now doesn't that sound like the exact same experience any lesbian or gay would be subjected to?

With all that considered, it's no wonder I felt uncomfortable yesterday while having a conversation at the bus stop with one of my co-workers. Our conversation started out much like the way any conversation between two strangers would. We chatted about the weather, we chatted about the public transit. We chatted about the company we work for. Then all of the sudden this guy drops the G-bomb on me like I was Hiroshima when he said, "I believe we are all lost souls, but we are all connected through God, and until we find God we will continue to feel lost."

Woah buddy! Lets back up there. I thought this was a bus stop, not the Broomfield community church. I didn't come here to be preached to, I'm just trying to make my way home.

Okay, I didn't say that, but I thought it. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and knew it would be out of line for me to protest his convictions, so I nodded and smiled. I didn't want to admit my religious beliefs, knowing very well he would stuff me into the "lost and needs to find" category because any atheist will tell you that only leads to more preaching. And do you know what atheists hate most? No, it's not puppies, it's being preached to about the power of the lord; puppies come in second. I can't deny that I feel lost most of the time, but I know "finding God" will not help me feel like I belong any more than peeing standing up will make me feel like a man . I know this because for a good portion of my life I was a baptist, that and I have tried to pee standing up (not a pleasant experience). I went to church and bible study, I prayed to God when I was hurt and desperate. Sometimes I still catch myself praying to that God I no longer believe in because old habits die hard. I sometimes think if I could only conform my life would be easier, pleasure and acceptance would not be such a struggle. who am I kidding? I've never been any good at pretending.


What are you going to do? Go for the sweet spot?

I had the most fantastic dream last night; it was weird. If it were a movie it would be a mix between The Chronicles of Riddick, and Fantastic 4. In one part of the move a giant rock like creature cam busting out of the roof of a building with amazing force. I 'm thinking that was probably induced because I watched the new AVP movie last night with A.J. In one part of the movie the Predator comes busting out of the sewer under the road much in the way the rock like creature did in my dream.

But the best part was the end of my dream where I was a bad ass chick, like Domino or the chick from the Resident Evil movies. If I were not such a wimp I would make a great bad ass chick. I also had a bad ass boyfriend that I was cuddling with. Guess who it was, no, not Al Gore. It was Vin Disel. Funny, I never thought him to be the cuddling type. It's just too bad this dream didn't go x-rated.

Hey imagination, whats up with the prude cuddling?


Oh Anna...

It's another lovely unproductive day her at Sun. My password does not work again today, which is quite odd as it worked all of yesterday. Neither myself, or any of the administrative people here can understand why either. So, Once again I will sit about and find random words to Google, check my Myspace page an unhealthy number of times, and if I am lucky I'll sneak in a nap. I, for one, do not anticipate them to have my access up and running again any time soon, which means any time today. Not that I mind getting paid to do nothing productive, it's just that I have a low capacity for sitting still long periods of time unless my mind is fully or partially engaged.Oh, did I forget to mention how I'm quickly running out of words to Google.

Though I am reading a fantastic book, or parts of a fantastic book I should say. Do you remember how back in the 80's Reader's Digest would print those Reader's Digest condensed books? Of course you don't. They would take four books, delete entire chapters, paragraphs, and sentences, and basically trim them down until they could all fit into one leather bound book. well, I was rather enjoying one particular story I found in one of these books my mom had on her bookshelf, that is until I realized it was condensed. You could not even imagine my amazement as I finished chapter seven and flipped the page find the next chapter printed was chapter nineteen! I was all, WTF?!?! Where did the rest of the book go? I felt seriously ripped off. It's not like they cut out a paragraph or two, but eleven chapters! I hardly doubt there was nothing of importance in those eleven chapters, or why would the author have written them? I hadn't even realized it was a condensed book until that point, and to realize it made me feel so disappointed. It is true what they say about ignorance being bliss.

But on another note, I did find some blogs I found to be particularly amusing and interesting, so go check them out. This one I think is quite clever, If I could draw I would have thought to myself, why didn't I think of that? and this one is just plain hilarious, though it is a bit late in the season. If you don't find them amusing than I would suggest finding a sense of humor, or come borrow some of mine. Anyways, I am off to take a nap or something as equally unproductive.

P.S. Did you know this is my 200th post? Of course you didn't because you have better things to do.


Day two, alas! This $&!% works!

When I arrived at work today my password worked, finally! Now I can get to work; can you feel the excitement? In all honesty today has felt just the same as yesterday, boring. These training modules are full of uninteresting technical writing, writing that is worded in a way you must read it three times, then take a white out pen to the screen and mark out the extra superfluous words, just so you can get to the point. I mean really, it's in essence a training manual, no need to explain to me how complicated a process can be by using seven different words that define complication in one sentence. Is it really necessary?

But, I did have a fantastic dream last night about the boy, you know, the one who is always in my dreams. Usually when I dream about him I am always trying too hard to win his affection, and he is only cold meant to me. I usually wake up with a bit of negative emotional residual that starts me off in a rather grumpy way. But this morning I had a smile on my face as I crawled out of bed near 5 am, it's been with me the rest of the day. And whenever I think I could no longer handle the dulling repetition of these training modules I close my eyes and remember the way he leaned over me with a smile on his face and a longing gaze in his eyes. I know, sounds terribly corny for someone as un-serious as myself, but why should I care? I'm in too much of a grand mood.



Everyone's passwords finally work, except mine...


But seriously, WTF!?!?

A 37 minute update...

In the last thirty something minutes at work I have...

Checked my Myspace at least fifteen times, and still no one has sent me anything entertaining.

Went to the bathroom just because.

Pondered what it would be like to be stuck here on tweak, man that would be terrible.

Seriously considered entering the dance-off my trainer suggested with sarcasm. I missed the sarcasm.

Yep, that's pretty much it.

Making good use of the corporate dollar...

7:30am - Arrive at the Sun training center for my first day of work. I'm early so I sit in the lobby and wait.

8:30am - All the other new trainees finally show up.

9:00am - Our training room is not yet equipped with a network so we sit in another empty room and wait.

9:20am - Go on break for thirty minutes.

9:50am - We venture across the huge Sun campus to our training room, only to find our access passwords to the training modules don't work. We surf the web and wait for who ever is in charge of this kind of thing to fix it.

10:23am - take a twenty minute nap while drooling on my chair.

11:09am - We go to lunch for an hour, because we have been working so damned hard all day.

12:09pm - Come back from an uneventful lunch to find our passwords still don't work. Commence phase two of "surfing the web".

1:10pm - Still waiting on those passwords...

Don't you think they would have some sort of video for us to watch, maybe on corporate policies or something? I sure could use a refresher course on that sexual harassment issue. It's been a long time since I have worked anywhere that required me to sign an acknowledgment of the employee handbook form; I think some catching up on the ways of corporate America would do me some good.


A serious reconsideration...

Why did I agree to this? I don't know if I can handle living with my mother. I just tried to put a load of laundry in the washer, and from the other room she asked me what I was doing. The conversation went something like this...

Mother: What are you doing?

Me: Putting something in the washer...

Mother: Woah, woah, woah... What is it?

Me: A handfull of laundry, what else would it be?

Mother: (at this point she has raised her voice and is now inspecting my laundry) A handfull, why don't you go find some other stuff to wash with it? You do not wash half a load of laundry.

After she went crazy and further inspected my load she realized it was a full load, then proceeded to lecture me about other peoples laundry lying around the house. WTF?

I could spend the next five miles in HTML text explaining to you how I am already harboring a minimal load of anxiety due to the overload of time spent with my obnoxious family, but I won't. I am just going to quietly and without any cap locks tell you that level meter has zoomed way past the pleasant mark and is now lingering the the red zone marked "danger!".

So I have begun to look into a few places here in Broomfield. However, unless I find a roommate quick I'll be stuck with the family. And if that is the case, I hope I find the patience to make it through the next six months without stabbing myself in the eye with a pair of scissors just so I can spend a few nights away at the hospital where the sick and dying are because they are much more pleasant to share a room with.

This may all be a very bad idea...

The city has worn me out. It has chewed me up and spit me out like a piece of dirty chewing tobacco, and that is why I am leaving it. My lease is up in a month, and my roommate has decided to move out at that point so I have some decisions to make. I could stay and continue month to month, but I hate to live alone and eating his half of the rent would be quite undesirable. I could move out into another apartment that's less costly, or I could move back in to my moms house.

I chose the last of the three. Insane? Yes, I know. I fear within the next six months I will have lost my mind, or my sanity, or quite possibly both. The truth is this arrangement works out best for all involved. It saves me a considerable amount of money in rent, and what I will pay in rent will help my mother out. Not to mention it's so damn close to my new job, and away from the clutter of the city.

But I can't lie. I am going to miss the city and having every thing at my finger tips. I am going to miss having my own place with my own space. I am going to miss the freedom you loose when you live with your parents, but most of all I will miss the quietness. This house is so damned noisy sometimes.

Thus a new chapter starts in my life, I shall call it the chapter about healing and recovery.