ready to pee my pants

Today is my defense date.

At 3:30.

Which means I will leave work by 1:45.

It's currently 12:06.

I need to run home.
Change clothes to get all pretty and professional and stuff.
Run to the post office.
Actually, run to the post office needs to come before, run home and get all pretty and professional and stuff.
Stop at local campus to pick up textbook for tonight's class.
Drive an hour, but not be rushed, so allow myself extra time to get there.
Give defense at 3:30 in front of an entire department, which I have never met, nor have any of them ever taught me.
Give defense.
Find something to keep me occupied until 6:00, which is when my class starts. My last class. My last class!!!!!!

Hmm, maybe I should leave work by 1:30. Leave my house no later than 2:15 to get to Big Private College by 3:20-ish.

It's currently 12:08.

Ball of nervous energy.

I need to pee.

My co-workers keep asking me when I'm leaving as I keep looking at the clock.

It's 12:08.

Please, please, please, please let this go well.

Please, please, please, please, let me get an A.

I deserve an A.

I worked my ass off.

Well, not really as I am currently sitting on my ass. But, my ass is much thinner than it was when this process started.
But so are my boobs. Well, not thinner as boobs can't technically get thinner, but smaller. Amazing what less-stress and actually having free time can do for the bod.

12:09.

(Tap, tap, tap, go my fingernails on my desk.)
12:10.

Please, let me get and A.

Let me have an honest, no rehearsed sounding, eloquent answer for all of their questions.

For all those questions that I have no idea of what will be asked.

(Tap, tap, tap.)

12:11.

Last night two of the dreams I remember having are: That I lost all of my teeth, which is a reoccurring dream for me. I am a teeth person. I notice teeth. A person's teeth says a lot about their appearance. A reoccurring dream about losing teeth says, that I am conscious of my appearance.

Second dream: That someone broke into my apartment and left my patio doors wide open. There was a brisk wind blowing through and the intruder left a bottle of Wish Bone salad dressing on my balcony.
No shit.
Seriously.
I yelled, "What do you want? Where are you?!?!!?"
...and, scene.
What do you suppose that means?

Ugh.

Wish me luck.
Hmm, maybe that's my Wish Bone. Maybe I'm asking for a wish bone. Anyone got one?

My ass and my GPA will be on the line at 3:30.

I think I'll need a wish bone right about then.

your weekend about the same?

"

"

"

What you can't see is the several layers of ice underneath all of the fluffy white stuff. Needless to say my weekend was spent trapped inside my apartment. Needless to say, my night out on Friday with Mr. London was cancelled.

Poop stain.

inner dork: Sex around the world

...and it's not about me!

Did you know....

Premature ejaculation isn't a problem for the Pacific dwelling Marquesan men, who've mastered the ability to prolong their erections indefinitely until their female partner has had two or three orgasms.
(Yes, please.)
(Have they really mastered anything or are they just thinking about baseball? Or whatever the equivalent of Marquesan baseball, is.)

In order to be legal, porn shops in India are called "museums."
(You know, I wondered where all the art was, but I strangely felt so at home during my last visit.)

Trobriand Islanders of the South Pacific have a thing for biting off their lover's eyelashes and eyebrows during sex.
(Alrighty.)

In Tuscany the missionary position is called the "angelic" position.
(Ah, how sweet.)
(Ah, how boring.)

As foreplay a Ponapean man may sometimes put a fish in the woman's vulva and gently lick it.
(Um, ew.)
(Men, don't. Just, don't say anything.)
(And most importantly, just don't.)

If a tribe in New Caledonia lost its chief, the entire tribe was expected to abstain from sex for an entire month.
(Well that sucks. Well, I guess it doesn't. I guess nothings getting sucked in that case.)
(Bummer.)

half a dozen with some sugar on top

Considering my Googleing abilities I can't believe this took me this long.
I may have my money problems solved.
I always joke that I'm going to go to Craig's List and look for a sugar daddy. Well, guess what, I Googled, sugar daddy and what o' what should come up (Hey, that's punny) pages of sugar daddies. There is a dating site specifically for this. Color me intrigued.
I placed an ad.
I'll let you know.

I'm always joking about donating my eggs. I mean, I'm not using them, nor do I plan to, so why not let someone have 1/2 a dozen or so, you know? However, I, according to all the research out there, am past my prime. Past my prime egg storage and baby harvesting skills by about 5 years. Sad. But, I Googled egg donation in my area and guess what, not too old.
I submitted my app.
The age preference is 21-32...let's hope they call in the next 8 weeks...cause then I am too old. Dammit. Timing. I'm telling ya. Her and Karma, two bitches you don't want to piss off.

K, that's all for now. Let me know if you have any ideas.

And men, seriously, if I had your equipment I'd be making donations all over the place for money. I mean, I figure if I was a guy I'd be making donations for free all the time anyway, so why not?

The Power of One: what would you do?

Some thoughts for the day:

If you found yourself in the middle of a war, a genocide, and you were able to help, would you? Would you be the person who would risk yourself, your life, to help others, to help strangers at the risk of yourself?

Who would you be in the face of danger? In the face of a humanitarian crisis?

Of course there is no way to know what we would do until we are placed in that situation, but what does your heart and your mind tell you, say that you would do?

just checkin'

I'm just double checking.

Is the war over?

I mean, did we win or did somebody, anybody win?

Cause, well, here's the thing. With all of the Anna Nicole drama and also something about some pop princess shaving her head, and some other pop princess doing her own take on rehab dominating the news and coming in as the top headlines; well, I was wondering if maybe I missed the big: "War Over" top story.
So, I'm just checking.
The war is still going on, right?
People are still being killed. People are still losing various limbs and body parts. Families are still being torn apart. Towns, villages, markets, and businesses still being imploded on a daily basis. No WMD have been found. Still no real end in sight...none of that has changed, right?
Just checking.
Just making sure I hadn't missed anything.

some things I'm getting back to you on

I realized I haven't done a post about me in awhile and about what's going on. So, here's an update.
I told you all at the beginning of January that I would get back to you on a few things, here's the update:

I may have a problem: In regards to my drinking ability. After spending 10 hours, yes, 10 hours, drinking on Saturday and my only comment at the end of the night was, "I'm just tired. I know I wouldn't pass a sobriety test right now, but truly, I'm just tired." I may have a problem. Then again, my only problem may be the lack of hours in a day and the lack of funds in my checking account. I called Mr. London at 10:30 to see if he wanted to join us, he told me the next day that not only was my drinking ability impressive, but so was my speech. According to him it was remarkably clear. Cheers to me.

Master's degree: I am currently putting any future education goals on hold. The reason, I have absolutely no idea what the next few months let alone the next few years have in store for me. Therefore, I don't see the reason to apply to grad schools at the moment since I don't know where I will be living.

Where I will be living: This depends on a few things; one, my job and two, my job and three, my job. Depending on what happens there it will be the main factor on where I will be calling home. Don't be surprised if in three, six, or twelve months I tell you all I'm moving to Europe.

Job situation: Remember back in September when I was on cloud 22 in regards to my job and that they were creating a position for me? Well, yeah, it has yet to be finalized. I have yet to hear anything. I have no idea what my future has in store for me in terms of employment. No stress there. Nope. None.

Life in the next few months: I think (key word in there) that if a position is actually finalized for me, I will work here for another one to two years. I will payoff all of my debt and save some cash and then move overseas. If no position is created then I may be calling Europe home by the end of the summer. If that happens then I will be taking all of my debt that I can't payoff by working as many jobs as I can cram into 24 hours a day with me.

Debt: Surprise of the day: Turns out my student loans are coming due a few months sooner than I had anticipated. As in 4 months sooner. As in April. Another (key word there) part-time job isn't even possible right now as my last class starts next week...so....

Trip: I (almost) have my trip to Athens and Istanbul finalized. I am waiting for some fundage to come my way and I will be booking it. I had a thought about not going and paying off some credit cards, but dammit, I deserve this trip. I figured up last week, for my own shits and giggles, how many hours I was in school and at work for the past 2.5 years and here is a breakdown: work: 40 hours. School: 40 hours. Travel time: at least an hour a day driving to and from school= 5 or 10 hours depending on the campus. Sleep: 5-6 hours a night. Do the math and see how many hours that leaves a person a day and in a week to be able to have a life and function at all. So, yeah. I'm taking the trip. I deserve it. I will be leaving at the end of May and I will be gone for 10 days.

Signs, coincidences, and life smacking me in the face: London still comes up throughout my day numerous times. As in, at least 3-4 times a day. Now. I believe the universe absolutely sends us signals; however, I am still trying to figure out if this one is telling me I need to move there, travel there, or visit there. This one I will have to get back to you on.

Love life: There's no other way to put this: I am very much falling in love with Mr. London. My friends would say, "Falling, hell. You've done tripped, girl." He's leaving the middle of April to start the first of May. We're still friends and we hang-out and talk regularly. As much as I am thankful for our time together it is hard for me to be with him knowing he is leaving and also with my life so up in the air right now. I told him last night that I have been thinking of moving to Europe and that I fully expect to move there in x amount of time. He had a reaction, but not necessarily the reaction of: "That's awesome!" It was more like, "yeah, well, everyone else is doing it.."
Okay, those aren't even close to his words but.... So, I'll see. He's awesome. I love the feeling I have around him. I hate the unsuredness (I realize that's not a word, but it sums it up well.) and the emotions I am having. I've never....never....felt this way about anyone.
Anyone.
I kept focusing on, Why now; why meet right as he finds out he's leaving. Then I realized I need to focus on; hey, at least we met.
I have a couple other men vying for my attention, but here's the thing, they're not him. So.....

Timing: She's a tricky bitch.

Thesis: I met with my mentor on Saturday and I have an appointment to defend it Monday, 26th at 3:30 in the afternoon. God Fuck, do I hope that is the end of it. God fuck, do I hope I get an A.

Paintings and such: I've had a couple requests for paintings from a few of you. I would love to paint something for those who have requested one. I would also love payment. For any confusion on this, see the heading labeled: debt. Let me know if you're still interested and we can go from there.

Tai Chi, chess, belly dancing: The chess class was canceled (sad.) Belly dancing is hilarious and an amazing workout. Tai Chi: If everyone did this the world would be a much calmer place. I feel so damn relaxed afterwards. No, I mean, so. damn. relaxed. It's awesome and powerful. A result of the class has been that I no longer turn on the stupid box for the shear noise of it and I sit in quiet in my apartment as often as I can.

Emotions: Basically a roller-coaster. Because of a few of the things mentioned above I spent most of yesterday crying all day. All day. Simply couldn't stop. I feel like I haven't been in a good mood since December. I've simply had too many things that are uncertain and that I have no control over and I don't know the final outcome of those things. It can be too much for a Party Girl to take. However. I also have faith that they will all work out how they are supposed to.

The sex factor

I was wondering the other day about how much sex and relationships play a part in our lives. There are some people who, when we talk, the entire conversation is dominated by their current relationship and my current state of singledom or couplehood, why? Are our relationships really that interesting? Is the state of our relationships that important to us in terms of health, both mental and physical?
But, the real question I got to thinking about was, if it wasn't for sex how influential would relationships with the opposite, or same, sex really be in our lives, in terms of our mental and physical health? How integral is sex in our lives and how influential is sex in terms of where our next relationship will come from, will be with?

Honestly, when it comes to couplehood I'm more interested in where my next lay with come from more than I am where my next boyfriend will come from. I wonder more about the sex than I do about the new Mr. Potential when I'm on the prowl. Perhaps that says something about me, or does everyone think that way? One universal factor, no matter IQ level, that we, as breathing and upright living beings, have in common is sex. Sex is an integral and driving force, an animal instinct, that we all share. We must meet. We must procreate. We must breed. We must feel good. So, if it wasn't for sex, if sex wasn't a factor, if it didn't exist for instance, if we were all A-sexual, how important would relationships be to us?

Your thoughts?

inner dork: It's all about sex

Sex, sex, and just for fun a little more sex.

Without further ado, did you know....


It was believed in Victorian times that if a woman bathed in fresh strawberries, it'd help shrink flabby breasts.
(See, how, how does this even make a little bit of sense?)

It is said that the famous prostitute and madam Calamity Jane earned her nickname because of the social disease she inevitably inflicted upon those who had sex with her.
(I guess it is all in a name in this case and a ratehr obvious one at that.)

Oophorectomies, the removing of a women's ovaries, came into vogue in the Victorian era as a means of curing a host of ailments, including irritability, "simple cussedness," and "eating like a plowman."
(hmm, well if I can't eat like a man and if I would no longer have the ability to cuss, I'll keep mine, thanks.)

Homosexuality remained on the American Psychiatric Association's list of mental illnesses until 1973.
(...and yet still, so many people think it is a sin and can be cured.)

In the fifth century B.C., a Corinthian athlete tried to bribe an Olympic games official with fifty top-quality harlots.
(See, I bet if the judges were bribed with whores opposed to money, the French skaters would still have their gold medals. Just sayin'.)

In order to fully finance the cost of constructing Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome, there was instituted a church-imposed prostitution tax, whose revenue exceeded even that from the sales of indulgences.
(I bet if we had a tax like this the National Debt would be gone. Whose with me???)

I'll take mine in a glass, thanks.

Happy VD!

VD, nothing a little shot can't cure.

A little shot of Stoli.
A little shot of Jack.
A little shot of Jose'.
A little shot of Jim.

...the alcohol.
Not the men.
Although....

one day or....

Conversation between myself, two other women, and a young man who just broke his engagement to his high school sweetheart and also just spent $15,000 on a wedding that is no longer going to be taking place.

Yesterday:

Married woman: I won't get a card from my husband because he thinks Valentine's Day is nothing more than a way for the card companies to make money.

PG: Hmm, I hear that reasoning from a lot of men. I wonder how women feel about Valentine's Day.

Man, pointedly asking me: I don't know. How do women feel?

PG: I would rather have 364 days of special versus one.
This made the young man laugh, which made me happy.

How about all of you? How do you feel about this day of love?

unconditional puppy love

The sheer love, enthusiasm, and joy that comes from my parent's dog each and every time I go over to their house. The joy is from their dog, not so much from my parent's, which is my point.
It doesn't matter if it has been five minutes, five days, five weeks, or five blommin' seconds since Sadie, Sadie the Adorable Wonder Dog has seen me, her enthusiasm is the same.
She hears me enter the back door and she comes tearing through the house, into the kitchen, slides across the floor and bounces off the cabinets and jumps up and down spins in circles over and over and over and over and over and over and over...you get the idea, until I tell her to stop jumping.
She then repeats this love, adoration, and affection into the living room and onto the couch. Of course because I am there it means I am there to see her. which means it is play time. I then play fetch with whatever her favorite toy is of the day.

Yesterday after several minutes of this display of love and affection I turned to my mom and said, "I wish everyone was as excited to see me as she is. As excited as she is each and every time to see me. The world would be a much more lovely place."

Hokey? Sure, but think about it: dogs have no attitude, no pretense, they don't care what kind of day you've had or what kind of mood you're in they are always, always happy to see you. Everyone should act more like a dog.
Me, I like to think of myself as a puppy. I'm always ready to go, always happy and enthusiastic, but sometimes...sometimes I'm the older dog who knows better. The older wiser dog that just looks at the puppy and thinks, simmer down, simmer down. You know, the cynical dog. However, I hope, I hope I have that kind of affection and unconditional love towards those around me. Something tells me I don't even come close.

Sadie, The Wonder Dog

inner dork: that'll learn ya

Did you know....

The earliest recorded case of someone giving up smoking was on April 5, 1679 by Johan Katsu, sheriff of Turku, Finland. He wrote in his diary, " I quit smoking tobacco." He died one month later.

The imploding of an American Dream

I've been feeling disillusioned lately. Well, really for awhile. For a couple of years actually. In terms of what is supposed to be the American Dream I don't think I fit into, nor do I think I want to obtain it. In terms of what is considered American I don't think I fit into, nor do I think I want to obtain it. In terms of mass materialism I don't think I fit into, nor do I think I want to ever obtain it or worship at the alter known as "The Label."
I never want to say, that a $5,000 purse is affordable or that the latest model of SUV is a must-have.

I've never made getting married or having kids a goal, nor do I ever plan to. I don't understand how marriage and kids can be a goal. I think they can be a want perhaps a need, (meaning in terms of biological clock) but never a goal. Do you want to be a parent or do you want to have kids? Do you want to be a husband or a wife and have a marriage or do you want to be a bride or a groom and have a wedding?
Last week when speaking with two soon-to-be-grooms I told them I don't want to spend more than $1500 on my wedding and that $1400 of that had better be on food and alcohol. I thought I was going to have to pick their eyes up off the floor. They said that was all fine and well, but I'm forgetting about a little thing like the dress and the tuxes. To which I replied, I'm pretty sure I could find a white dress at Target that would do just fine and if he wants to wear a tux, great, but it didn't really matter to me at all. I don't want a wedding, I want a marriage. Both of the soon-to-be's said they were at upwards of $15,000 for their (the brides) big day. I can't articulate how obscene that is to me. But, to each their own. Starving children or education for schools, $2,000 on a cake or $2,000 on books and clean water it's a choice. I guess.

But, this is simply one thing that I have issue with, the whole mass conspicuous consumption and waste that comes with a imagined disposable income, because isn't that what most of us have, an imagined income? We are living one way when we should be living another. A nation of mass debt and dreamed of necessities. SUV's that guzzle gas fueling the need for foreign oil and causing drivers to create intimidation on the road. Hummers were made for warfare not for soccer practice or pizza deliveries. Not to mention how frustrating it is to be inside my Mustang and try to back-out of a parking spot next to two Denalis on either side of me, which causes me to worry about being rear-ended.

Our homes are nothing more than a different shade of beige in a 2.5 McHouse society with a Playskol set that is remarkably never used. The different shade of beige has a three car garage, which allows the owner to never be seen or heard by the other beige neighbors. The SUV can be parked quickly and quietly inside the comfort of the home and thus showing the prominence of what we truly value, our cars, and the garage has become our new fence. Yet there is still a need for a fence around the different shade of beige and the remarkably never used Playskol set allowing for double protection from ever having to see or know our neighbors in the perfect Wonder Bread White suburbia McNeighborhood. Perfect.

We consume pre-made pre-packaged foods with more additives and preservatives than anyone could ever pronounce all cooked in the quick convenience of our microwaves. We consume the food within a 10 minute time frame and yet we wonder why we are obese, we wonder why every other person is suffering from heart disease and diabetes and various cancers somehow remain a mystery to us.

We value fame over substance. We want our facts in five second sound-bites and we consider ourselves informed. We believe the stupid-box is the alter of our living rooms and have all of our furniture pointed towards the glowing god. We don't have time to know the full article and believe what-ever the government wants us to know and we don't argue, fight, or have time to question because we don't have the time or worst of all, we no longer care and we don't believe that we can make a difference. There was a time when the status quo was measured by the Jones it is now measured by the Hilton's. We are trying to keep up with the unkeepable and the unattainable all with a PR driven image that bears no relevance to substance what-so-ever.
We want material items because we think that will give us substance. It's about the label and what the label represents and how it will represent us to those around us; what the perceived perception of us will be to the people we don't know and who we don't have the time to know.
We want to know what knowing and being associated with a person can do for us and gain us in the long run, yet we don't have time to really get to know anyone beyond that. People have, in a way, become the new label, the new perception.

We are more connected than ever, yet have never been more disconnected from those around us. There are days were I am starved for real and actual intellectual conversation. I'm tired of asking how someone is and only being answered with one word replies of "busy" or "tired." That's a status report that's not a conversation. What happened to adjectives, verbs, and nouns when having a conversation? When someone tells us something personal we label it as TMI, when really, it's not, we have simply become too distant, too busy, too lazy to care. We spend all day IM'ing in abbreviations and call it conversation.
People are looking for a quick fix and an instant result, yet they aren't willing to put the time and effort into it. We want someone else to "fix" us. What happened to spending time alone and thinking, spending some time alone in quiet? Quiet time without the stupid box on all the time? What has happened to connections and friendships and relationships and spending real time with someone? What is happening to all of us? We are constantly going, going, going...but where are we all headed?

Orwell, Big Brother, 1984, and today, what came first?

Over the weekend I watched the documentary, Orwell Rolls in his Grave. It was basically about the media and how government controlled the media is and the monopoly media has become in terms of who owns it and how the government controls it. Also, about how corrupt the government has become in terms of their dealings with other nations and within itself and how the media doesn't really report on these dealings. I highly recommend it and I also think I need to watch it about three more times to fully grasp all of it.

Anyway

Since the documentary referred to George Orwell and his novel, 1984 throughout the film and since the novel was written in 1949 I got to wondering about what comes first, the idea or the concept? What is planted first, the knowledge and the corruption or the idea of knowledge and corruption? In other words, did the book 1984 fuel the idea of Big Brother in terms of government and how and what they could control or was that idea always there to begin with and the book simply put it into written form for the masses to see and think about?

Now, I understand government has (in most cases) always wanted to control the masses, I get that. However, many of the things that Orwell writes about weren't possible and weren't even really realistic, such as TVs and cameras and monitors and such. I mean, I understand that they were around, but not in the forms that he writes, it was science-fiction.

So, what comes first, the idea, the concept, or the fact that a person needs to recognize the possibility for those things to be possible?

If you like Orwell I recommend reading this short essay: Shooting an Elephant It's only about four pages long, but it speaks volumes. It also deals with crowd mentality which I find fascinating.

Please, tell me yoru thoughts.

How to give a compliment without really trying

Looks will get a man interested.
Brains will keep a man interested.

I will always gladly take a compliment on my looks.
I much prefer a compliment on my brains.
If someone compliments my art or writing, even better.
If someone asks to see or read said art and writing, even better.

If a man is going to give a compliment, please, make it original.
Original in the delivery and original to me.

However, all and any compliments are always welcomed. Always. I will always say, thank you. I will never give an excuse for the compliment or to the compliment just given. I have learned how to accept a compliment. Gladly accept a compliment.

The best advice I can give a man on how to give a compliment?
Be interested.
Be an active listener.
Be a great communicator.
Be intelligent.
Be funny.
Always ask, "...and you?"

If he has all of those qualities then everything else is gravy.

inner dork: hodge-podge

Oh, I love a good dorking!

Did you know...

Some Eskimos have been known to use refrigerators to keep their food from freezing.
(Hmmm, I find that very perplexing for some reason.)

A typical double mattress contains as many as two million dust mites.
(Scratchy. Itchy. Is there a difference between being scratchy or itchy?)

Mixing Sani-Flush and Comet cleaners has been known to cause explosions.
(Do not attempt this tonight. ..and if you do, I know nothing about it. Actually, if you have video footage or photos of said explosion, please share.)

Ketchup is excellent for cleaning brass, especially tarnished or corroded brass.
(Oddly enough the consumption of french fries goes up 33% after a person uses this cleaning method.)

Ramses brand condom is named after the great Pharaoh Ramses II, who fathered more than 160 children.
(I think I'll stick with Trojans. Ramses condoms don't seem to prevent pregnancy very well.)

Four thousand people are injured by teapots every year.
(I guess they don't know the song, "I'm a little teapot short and stout. Here is my handle, here is my spout. I think if people sung this it would help prevent injuries.)

One hundred people chock on ballpoint pens every year.
(Okay, one questions: how? Are they demonstrating the gag reflex or what? I guess that's more like three questions, but whatever.)

Most toilets flush in E flat.
(Can anyone verify this? I wonder if a song can be written to the tune of toilets flushing. Anyone want to help me on this one?)

Four thousand Americans are injured by toilets every year.
(Again, how? Is it just Americans or are other countries more or less prone to toilet injuries?)

Eating chocolate was once considered a temptation of the devil.
(Hmm, call me a sinner. I sin a lot. I sin everyday after lunch. Yet, strangely enough I don't feel the least bit bad about that.)

the new profanity

*I want the word "like" to be listed as a profane word. I want it to be banned in all conversation. I want people to be fined if they repeat it more than five times within a sentence. I want a ruler to be provided in my hand, at all times, for me to whack someone upside the head when they repeat the word to the point that I have no idea what their original point was.
I don't want the four-letter word to be allowed into basic and decent conversation. If the word "like" it uttered as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, pronoun, preposition, comma, semi-colon, or a period I want to be allowed to tell the offensive person to shut the hell up and get out of my face.
I want "like" to go back to meaning a feeling. As in, "I really like the new flavor of K-Y Jelly." Not as in, "Like, that new, like, flavor of like, K-Y, like, Jelly? Yeah, I like really like that."

Oh. And up-talking. I want that banned also. Where a person ends everything as a question, or on an "up" note. As in, "Yeah, like, that new K-Y Jelly is like, awesome? I would really like some of that tonight? I would love it if that was by my bedside and rubbed all over when I get home from dinner tonight?

Yeah, I want all of the above rules to apply to them as well.

*This post is a direct result of an actual conversation I had with someone inquiring about a job. Blame them for my frustration.

the power of one: Kurt Gödel

Kurt Godel

He completely revolutionized the world of mathematics.

why not make it a four person party?

The other day I got to thinkin'. Yep, that tremble you felt during the mid-day, that was me having a thought.
With 36 people vying for the Dem's and 48 people vying for the Rep's not to mention all of the independents who are all wishing, hoping, and praying to become the new stupid in the big house, why not make the race a little more interesting, the conversations better, and most importantly allowing those of us who care, a second choice on the ticket? Instead of one person from each party to choose from in terms of a president come election time, why not have two people from each side to choose from, thus a four party candidate ticket?
Instead of having a debate with only two candidates, why not have a debate with four candidates? Sure the TV ads would be over-whelming, the bs would be deeper than ever, but I also think it would make the candidates work harder for we, the people.
Also, instead of simply giving us 5-second sound bites perhaps...and I know this is crazy, but perhaps there might actually be something worth listening to and talking about. Maybe, again, just a thought, with more choices come election day people would actually get off their tookes and go vote.
Choice, choice is always good.

So, whatchya think? Brilliant, I know.

Cause it's Monday and we could all use a laugh today: Comedian Mitch Hedberg

One of comedian Mitch Hedberg's last televised stand ups. Enjoy. You're Welcome

the latest from the inner artist

It is entitled, "Falling Leaves"
The colors are: gold, orange, brown, and deep red.



This is a close up of the painting.


The latest snowfall

everyone knows my name

My job has many different qualifications.

However, besides being just an all around remarkable person; it also requires me to be a few other things that are not listed under my job duties.
Psychologist, counselor, bartender, confidant, as I do a lot of listening, and shaking of my head and giving a sympathetic look of understanding. Social butterfly, because I need to check on all of my customers and make sure they are okay. And the latest, and by far the most popular one: back-rubber, ala, massage therapist, to make all of the tension and stress disappear.

I've been told I need to give up the English career and become a personal masseuse. You know, and get paid for it in other ways, like with actual money and stuff.

I just put two people, simultaneously, one male and one female, into moans, groans, and comas. In full view of everyone else. I made it clear that they couldn't file a sexual harassment claim, they asked for it. I was happy to give it. Of course I have slight crushes on both of these people so now I could use a massage, but you know, whatever.

inner dork: hodge-podge

I'm getting to be a fan of the "hodge-podge" inner dorks. So many useless facts, so little time to blog.

Did you know...

Playing cards in India are round.
(I wonder if that makes them easier or harder to organize and hold?)

The Nine of Hearts is considered the symbol of love.
(That's why I am always empty handed.)

The Ace of Spades symbolizes death.
(I suddenly have a Motorhead song in my head.)

It's rumored that sucking on a copper penny will cause a Breathalyzer to read zero.
(Not true. But chewing gum with make you blow less of a reading. Courtesy of a cop. You're welcome. Also why I always have gum when I leave the bar. And for fresh kissable breath, of course.)

Colgate (as in the toothpaste) translates into the command "go hang yourself" in Spanish.
(Useful after a rough night and you wake up to that, "who are you?" person lying next to you.)

More people use blue toothbrushes than red ones.
(Mine is currently pink)

Ancient Egyptians slept on pillows made of stone.
(Talk about a head stone.)
(Neck pain.)
(Stone head.)
(Yep, that's all I've got.)

Los Angeles's full name is: El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles de Porciuncula.
(Yeah. L.A. just seems so much easier to say.)

There is a resort town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.
(I'll pick Truth for $500, Alex.)

A female ferret will die if it goes into heat and cannot find a mate.
(Wow. Now there's pressure.)
(I'm just picturing a female ferret running to all the male ferret's favorite water holes, panic written all over her face and saying, "please, please, mate with me!!!! If you don't I'll die" I think this is the equivalant of the male solider leaving for war. "This may be my last chance to ever have sex...")

The leech has thirty-two brains.
(Seriously, why? Does it really have that much to think about? Suck or die. Suck or die. I would think that would pretty much cover all of the basis right there.)

Thank you and good night!

just askin': all of life's little coincidences

Have you ever noticed that when something happens either in a good or bad way, or when you're not sure about something, it somehow just keeps appearing and coming up over and over again?

For example: When I was trying to decide on a career change; I received a wrong number at my office and a new career opportunity literally landed in my lap. The new opportunity was exactly what I was pondering over. Ta dah!

I wasn't sure if I should try to go to Greece and Italy for a graduation present to myself. Every freakin' travel program, history program, and travel magazine I came across was about Greece and Italy. Okay, got it.

A person I'm thinking about suddenly calls or emails, seemingly out of nowhere.

Life is trying to tell me something, but I'm too busy to hear the message. So life throws me in a wheelchair for 13 weeks to quiet me down. I am finally quiet enough to listen. (Okay, so that one was really specific to me...but whatev.)

I meet someone and they take a job in London.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard the word "London" since that decision. (Every freakin' day, several times a day, would be how many. But who am I to count and be specific?) Mere minutes ago would be another example of that specific time. A former instructor of mine, a favorite former instructor, is doing a semester abroad...in London. When it was announced that she would be the one in charge, she asked me if I could go as it is a select number of people who are chosen. I can't because I have to work, last semester was supposed to be my last semester, and that all important fundage. She just walked by and I stopped her and I heard all about it. The semester abroad in London. How she wishes I could go. And here I am in vapor of green smoke known as jealousy. And there is that word, that place again. London. Oh well. It wouldn't have worked out anyway as I didn't graduate and I would be in London when my last class starts. But still. Poop. Poop stain poop.

So, do you notice these things too? When there is something looming over you. Some unanswered question, some sort of glitch in your life, do you notice all of the signs? All of the words that somehow keep popping up? Or do the words and signs keep popping up because we are simply more aware of them, but they really have nothing to do with each other?

dirty naughty times

Several years ago I had a fabulously naughty little one night stand. I met Mr. One Night at an after hours party and then continued the party on our own late into the next morning. The night was conducted at the apartment of Mr. One Nights best friend, more specifically on the best friends bed. The best friend and Billy had left the apartment to go do their own little getaway. It took about .001 of a second between the door closing behind Billy and the best friend to the Mr. One Night and I going at each other. Cause, I'm just like that.

An hour or so later the door opened. It was an efficiency apartment so that would be the door to the living room, bedroom, main door, entryway that was being opened. The best friend said something to the effect of, "WHOA!" when he saw the shadow of me with my ankles wrapped around my head and quickly went out the door to wait in the hallway...so we could finish. Cause he was polite like that. For the next several minutes I heard Billy yelling, "Have you cum, yet!!!" "Jesus, aren't you finished" and "Hurry the hell up!" all being screamed at me from the hallway of the apartment building. Cause Billy is like that. To which I replied with, "Yes, I've already cum and no I'm not finished and if you'd shut the hell up I could cum again!!"..all said with love and tenderness and a slight accent of drunk.

So, we finished, and I beckoned Billy and the best friend back into the apartment and as the sun was rising, I went home.

Several years later:

I'm conducting an interview and who should be sitting across the table from me? The best friend, a.k.a the guy whose bed I had sex on and who saw me in the most compromising of positions. You know, the one where my ankles were behind my head. I'm conducting the interview as I would any other, but all I can think of is: you've seen me naked. You've seen me naked. All the while wondering if he was thinking: I've seen you naked, I've seen you naked. You had sex on my bed. See, I couldn't pick the guy who I had the one night with out of a one person line-up, but the best friend, well, he pops into my life randomly every couple of years starting about 15 years ago, to today. I never know if he remembers me and since I never know if he remembers me I do the polite thing and pretend I don't know him.

So, I did the only thing any respectable party girl would do, I hired him. So, I will wonder if he remembers me and is picturing me with my ankles behind my head every time I see him, which is every single day.

my inner artist

Okay, so understand that trying to take a picture of a painting things are lost in the translation. Plus, a picture of a painting is kind of an oxy moron.

I adore this painting. Black background with deep purple and red swirls surrounded by white.


I didn't like the fact that I couldn't get the colors perfect, the way I wanted them to be. Then I realized love isn't perfect, therefore a painting called love shouldn't be perfect. The colors are much brighter in person.


I had a completely different idea for this painting. However, I'm happy with it. The background is a dark blue, the circles are silver the white swirls around black lines.


Trapped: This was going to be yours. The new one will be the same colors, different theme. Gold background with a mixture of burnt amber, bright red, and gold mixed together to make the circles and lines.

the one question I will never answer

I will answer anything. I will never voluntarily give out information, but I will honestly always answer anything. Anything except one question. I will not answer this question because it is too subjective. I also will never answer this question because there is no right answer, the question has only the possibilty for wrong answers. The answer is also no ones business.
The question, how many people have I slept with?

See, here's the thing. First, who the hell cares. Second, there is no right answer. Third, too subjective.
Here's what I mean by the subjective part. Say I answer, ten. OKay, there is an immediate reaction to that. Why only ten? Really, ten? Jesus, you've slept with ten guys? Crap!
See...
The same is true for 30, 18, 60, 303, 12, 88, 22, 48, 77, 105, 1001, 98, 16, 26, 518, 202, 34, 6077. And on and on.
What might seem like a lot to you may be a weekend for me and vice versa. Also, and I could be wrong about this, let me know if I am, but if, by chance, a guy does know my number and mine is higher than his then doesn't it just go into a whole, Chasing Amy, thing? You know, I have more experience, can't satisfy me, I'll know more...blah bullcrap?
Plus, it's just a dumb question.
and why does it matter?
and who cares?
I've had guy friends who have told me they would never date a woman who has been with more than five guys. To which I reply with a laugh and say, good luck with that. I then finish it with a, and how many girls have you slept with? Guessin' more than five. Hypocrite.
But, it's also been pointed out to me, that yes, all of those are valid points, but by not answering the question I am actually putting more into the person's head. Like, Shit. She's slept with a lot of people and she isn't comfortable answering and she feels all guilty about her number.....
Yeah.
That's too much thinking. But, am I? Am I putting that out there?
Not that it matters.
It's a dumb question.
and why does it matter?
and who cares?
Cause I'm not answering.
However, feel free to ask me anything else.

one ringy dingy. two ringy dingy

Question, does the time of day a man calls a woman determine what kind of relationship they have? Say, friendship, dating, realtionship status, booty call.

Does calling at 6:00 p.m. versus 7:30 p.m. mean one thing and calling at 9:00 p.m. or 11:00 p.m. mean something else? And gee, what could calling at 2 a.m. mean? That one is a thinker.

I'm asking because the time of day I call absolutely means something. But, I'll explain that later. I don't want to influence any thinking or answers. Because I know y'all be really thinking heavily on this one. Oh, I kill me.

Thanks.

inner dork: oh, deer

Yeah, enjoy this.

Did you know...

Deer cannot eat hay.
Deer do like to eat marijuana.
(Yeah, but the real question is, do they like the special brownies?)

Reindeer have scent glands between their hind toes. The glands help leave a scent on the trails for the herds to follow. Researches say the odor smells cheesy.
(Like what kind of cheese? Does it smell like a nice smoked gouda, or more of a Wisconsin cheddar?)

what I meant to say was...

Okay, so perhaps I was a bit vague in my last post. Please, forgive me.

One day during my break I was doing my favorite activity, which doesn't require a second person, or any hand movement on my part, which is sitting in Barnes and Noble.

Sitting in B&N with a lap full of books holding a hot latte sitting in an big comfy chair enjoying the quite comfort of a cold winter day. I find it incredibly comforting holding a hot beverage in my hand, blowing into the hot steaming liquid waiting for it to become the right temperature. Those quite times that International Coffee promotes as those moments of our lives, that was the kind of afternoon I was having. With my beverage in my right hand and a pile of books in my lap I have a realization that this year, this time in my life, was just starting to get interesting.
Not that my life has been dull-drum up to this point. Quite the contrary. As OMC pointed out, whose life have I been blogging about this whole time and who wants a refund? No, it's more about being more mature (sorry), being comfortable in my own skin and with myself more than I ever have been. About being truly happy, being (almost) finished with school and having a life again. (Although, for someone who spent 40+ hours working in addition to being in school 20-25 hours a week, I still managed to find the time to go out and have the little party girl life. Ah, priorities.)
(Finally) having the free time be able to take some classes to become a better person.
Trying to reach my goal of living a fearless life.
Truly being myself when I'm around people and (finally) being able to be open and honest about my feelings and emotions with those around me.
(Finally) being able to have the time to travel and explore and see new places. Having the time to write, paint, go the movies, and send my stories to the publishers and not worry about having 40-11 other things to do.
Having an inkling of what people around me know and feel for someone they love and care about, finally getting it. To know what it feels like to fall for someone, truly let myself fall for someone and not worry or hold back on my feelings. Not worrying about getting hurt, being rejected, or being the first one to call Uncle, just letting myself go and not fight it.
The freedom of having my whole future in front of me and I have the ability and power to decide where and when I go and how I get there. I can either accept the job here or completely pack up and move somewhere, anywhere, else.
The freedom to spend an afternoon at Barnes and Noble with a lap full of books holding a hot beverage and feel the possibilities and the power of my future in front of me and being able to choose which way I go.
The power of wisdom and hindsight and realizing all the mistakes I've made and having the maturity to know that, oh-my-god I am going to make so many more. Learning from all of those mistakes and becoming a better person for it.
Realizing that I can let myself fall and relinquish some control and wow, I really would let myself move and be with someone. I really would let myself do that, because I never thought I would.
And so many more things. So many feelings, emotions, ideas, and thoughts all in the time it takes to blow on a hot beverage before allowing myself to take a drink. All of that and then some is what I meant when I said, I feel as though my life is just starting to get interesting. I'll try to not to be so vague in the future.
Mushy girl moment, out.

just sayin'

I feel as if my life is just starting to get interesting.

non-traditional

You know, there are many things that point to the fact that I'm not a traditional student. Subtle laugh lines around my eyes, the slight fading of my hair color, the fact that I actually go to my classes pay attention in class, and then actually participate and do my homework. My GPA. My lack of whining about this thing or that, which may be causing trauma or drama in my life at the moment. The fact that I actually have bills and not pretend bills, which are really just figments of my imagination. The fact that I have a rent and car payment. That I no longer think pizza constitutes a food group in and of itself and will be just fine for all my meals.

However.

Another indication would be that apparently I listen to the news. More specifically, the weather report.
Yesterday it was a balmy 60 degrees. Today it is a nipple falling off, boogers freezing in the nose, cold.

Me? I'm bundled up in my most wintry of winter coats complete with gloves.

The traditionals? Shorts, t-shirts, flip-flops and really do I even need to say it? Of course they aren't wearing a coat.

Sad. My age is completely apparent on these days.
..and thank god for that.

inner dork: the sacred penis

Sorry, I know I've missed a few weeks...I'll make up for it, I promise!

Did you....

In India, a pagan priest would walk naked through the streets beckoning the faithful to caress his sacred penis?


(You have no idea how many times I've fallen for that line...)

just sayin'

I truly believe I am giving myself Carpal-tunnel

...and it isn't from typing papers.

Yet I am strangely stress-free.

Wrist pain, no stress. Wrist pain, no stress. Wrist pain, no stress.

Repeat as needed.

As often as possible.

As directed by PG.

Maybe I should come with a Surgeon General's warning.

a little help with some must see tv, please

"OHMYGOD!" I can't believe you don't watch "Heroes!"

"OHMYGOD! I've been in school getting an edgeumacation!"

Okay, so as of last week I'm hooked on, "Heroes." But, last week was a marathon run starting with episode five,(I think) so color me a little lost.

I realize I could go to NBC.com or a blog or something, but where's the fun in that? I would much rather have you all explain it to me.

Okay, the blonde chick with the dual personality, what the dilly-yo with her?

The guy who saved Claire at the Homecoming game, what up with him? And how and why did he get hooked up with the druggie who paints.

The pixie lookin chick who told the dark figure who killed the other cheerleader at the homecoming game, she good or bad? I'm guessing bad, but this is about superheroes, so one never can tell.

Who the hell is Syler (sp?).

Reading of the minds cop guy: is the blonde the only one who knows about his ability, and why does she know?

Why is the cheerleader so damn important, or do we know yet? I realize, save the cheerleader, save the world, I get the slogan. Just askin'.

...how's about this. How's about you alls just clue a girl in. Thanks. Thanks a ton.

first thoughts in the morning

I hate the sadness that comes because he is my first thought in the morning when I no longer want him to be. Because I am trying to get over him. Because I am trying to move on. Yet it's impossible because he is my first thought in the morning.

The thought that follows me from the warm comfort of my bed and into the hot steam of the shower. That continues as I wrap the towel around me. As I apply the lotion to my face, arms, legs, and torso. That lingers into the applying of blush, mascara, and today's shade of lipstick.
The thought of how he looked at me. The size of his hands compared to mine. How he closed his eyes when he was remembering something, and messed-up his hair when he was nervous. How his glasses were always smudged.
They continue as I hook my bra, pull on my tights, slip on my shirt, zip up my skirt, slide my feet into my heels, and decide on my jewelry.
His laugh. How we made fun of each other in the best possible ways. How he rubbed my back. How I laid on his chest. How he ran his fingers through my hair.
How he complimented me on more than just my looks.
He consumes my thoughts as I pull on my coat, pour my coffee into my travel mug, pull both of my bags onto my left shoulder, grab my mug and my keys in my right hand and walk out to my car.
As the morning air hits my senses I tell myself the tears in my eyes are just from the cold, but I know better.
Even a cold winter morning can't stop the thoughts. How he would say something funny each and every time I unlocked my front door to let him in. How he would describe his day without the use of any adjectives.
I try to move him out of my head as I sit and let my car warm up, hit the radio volume, and listen to the morning DJ's, scrape my windows, and drive to work.
He manages to slip in between the laughs from the radio and a traffic light as I think about how he kissed me in the parking lot and my right leg involuntarily bent at the knee like some 1930's black and white romantic comedy. How I laughed to myself when I realized I was swooning in the full moonlight of a cold December night. How I played with his hair as he lay in my lap. How he would nonchalantly rub my calf as we talked.
As I put my bags on my desk and turn my computer on to start my day taking a sip of coffee one last thought creeps into my head; the last image I have of him, the image of him walking out of my apartment and the lingering feeling that I wish I would have hugged him good-bye. Instead I watched him walk down the hallway before I closed the door.


It all makes me sad. Those thoughts that come first thing in the morning when I am trying to move on.

But I also hate the sadness that happens when I realize that he is no longer my first thought in the morning because I am moving on and it's without him.

just askin'

In your daily life and in everyday situations are you the lead or the best friend?

Are you the person who's head strong and takes charge of the situation or the side kick with all the great one-liners leading the laugh track?

The person who doesn't take any poo from anyone or the one who always gives someone a second chance?

The talker or the listener?

The one who cries or the shoulder whose leaned on?

Me? I think I'm the leading lady who just happens to also have all the amazing qualities that a best friend holds.

...and you?

yeah...I'll have to get back to you on that

So, I've been way productive, way creative, and way relaxed on this here vaca I've been on. Yah-daddy, boy-howdy, and pickolo Joe, has it. However, there are a few things that I'm considering, thinking about, coming to a conclusion on, and just in general been mulling over. All of which I'll have to get back to you on in terms of the outcome and conclusion thereof in regards to. (Wow. That sounded all fancy-like.)

I've consumed an outrageous amount of alcohol in the last 10 days. "Large amount" would be even big when it comes to my standards. Most of which, yet not all, has been by myself, alone in my apartment...which I believe is a true sign of an alcoholic. So. I may have a problem. I don't really think I do, but that may be the denial talking. Most of what I've consumed has been in the form of red wine, which is good for the heart, so actually, I'm doing my body good. Course, grape juice would have the same effect, but let's not get technical. There's also been a few beers, which is really just liquid bread and well, who doesn't love bread? I'll get back to you on how the AA meetings are going.

Over the past couple months I've lost about 20 pounds all of which was gained as a result of being in school four-five nights a week along with working 40 hours a week. I think all 20 pounds that I've lost has been in my boobs. I've gone from an overflowing 'D' cup to a smoldering, yet not overflowing 'D' cup. My only comment to those around me has been, "My god, were they just ginormous before?" Apparently the answer to that is, "Yes. Yes they were. I was lugging around some big guns. I liked to shot them and then pretend to blow them out. Now, not so big, but still pretty huge. I don't know, maybe I need to take some comparison pics. I'll get back to you on that.

Movies I've seen in the past 10 days: Pursuit of Happyness: Inspiring, motivating, Will Smith's son deserves a nomination.
Apocolypto: If you want to be exhausted and vomit afterwards, then see it. If not, don't.
The Good Shepherd: Good detailed movie. Good story, great acting. Very detailed. About 45 minutes longer than it needed to be.
Dream Girls: Amazing vocals, good acting. Beyonce is very plain without make-up. I plan to see it again with my gay. The first time my gay and I were in the third row, that is way close for all that glamour and drama. I'll let you all know if it just as good, or better at a distance.

I'm currently looking into an MFA program in VT. The state is picturesque and they seem to love their maple syrup. They're also way friendly in terms of the gays. My kinda place. Stages are still early. So, I'll have to get back to you on that.

I've mailed out about 28 copies of two of my stories. That's worded funny...I've mailed out two of my stories to 28 publishers. I am sure one of them will think I am the most brilliant and talented writer since that last new and hot writer whose 15 minutes are starting to flicker out so, it's my turn. Again, I'll have to get back to you on the fame, royalties, and publicity appearances. Hold on, Matt Lauer is calling my name from the bedroom. So I'll have to get back to you.


...K, I'm back. I tuckered 'ol Matty's ass out.

I've always wanted to join the Peace Corps so I've looked into it some more. Apparently I can get assistance in terms of a Graduate degree and such. But, there's that whole volunteer bit that the Peace Corp seems really, really stuck on, so you know, no fundage. I hear when it comes to dating, men lie about their income and women lie about their age and weight. I'm honest about my age and weight and I lie about my income. I'm poor. Actually, po'. I'm so poor I can't even afford the 'o' and the 'r.' So, I don't know if picking up and leaving for a free gig would be the smartest move right now. But I would love it. I really, really would. I'll get back to you.

I will absolutely positively be going on some sort of serious vacation this year. Some serious traveling and road trips. I just don't know where or when... or where or when. But, definitely somewhere. And starting in May. I would like one of the places to be Greece, but you know....

In the past two weeks I've painted three large canvases and one small one. I don't know if I have any talent in the painting realm, but it's all subjective anyway, but god damn do I love it. God damn. When the last one is finished I'll post them, cause I know you all care. When the art galleries start calling I'll let you all know. After the 15 minutes are over y'all still love me, right? Cause I'll go back to being all humble and stuff, I promise.

I've met someone new. He's a really nice and successful man. I'm not over Mr. London and I don't know when I will be. The new man is very nice and it's still very new. Still more in the friendship realm than anything else. I'm trying to give him, along with myself, a chance. Still very new. Heart still hurts. Emotions still there. Heart still hurts. I'll let you know.

I've signed up for three adult ed classes, which start in January. I signed up for them because I haven't been able to enjoy and do things that I've wanted to do and enjoy in over two years. I'm going to take: Belly-dancing, because I think it sounds way completely too fun and sexy as hell. Chess. Yes, chess. I've always wanted to learn: chess, fly-fishing, and poker. It's an odd combination, but true. I'm crossing one off the list. Last one is: Tai Chi. Again, because I've always wanted to learn and I think it will be incredibly relaxing and enjoyable. I'll let you know.

I only have one (insert all curse words you can think of, here) class left and then I grad-u-ate with my degree that shows all of my kanaledge. ...and then the repaying of the student loans will start so I's got ta figure out a place to go for my Master's therefore putting off the repaying of said thousands of dollars all at a low fixed interest rate. All as yet to be determined. I'll get back to you on that.

On NYE when everyone was saying how good or bad 2006 was for them, I honestly couldn't recall much about the year. Not much at all. Not because I don't think there was anything exciting or what have you about the year, but because it was truly all a blur. Except for the last 10 weeks, it was all a blurry-eye blur to me. In looking over the past year in my handy and dandy daily calendar, which I log everything in, there were a few events and names of men that I couldn't recall in the least little bit. Is that sad, uneventful, outrageous, or simply not worth remembering? At least I have the blog to refresh my memory. I think 2007 is totally going to rock my world and be way more than I can expect and comprehend right now. I am looking forward to each and every day of it. I'll keep you posted.

I hope the last couple weeks, your holiday festivities and everything and anything in-between was way rockin'. You're all rock stars and I look forward to sharing the new year with each of you.

Goodbye, 2006. Hello, 2007

First, how the hell did that happen? How did it get to be the end of the year? Oy. I'm telling you, the older I get the faster it goes. People in their 90's must just feel like they blink, and boom! Another year gone.

I'm a big believer in resolutions. Not the hokey kind that none of us ever have the intension of keeping, but the real kind that will make me a better person. Truly a better person. A better person, friend, daughter, sister, lover, girlfriend. This year I plan to work on being fearless. On living a fearless life. A wise man once said, "The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." Sure he wasn't the first person to say it and he had oh, a few nations and several thousand troops standing behind him, but still. I get the meaning. Fear. What would we all accomplish and do if it wasn't such a big part of our lives? Would we have the courage to pursue our hopes and dreams, pursue a new career, the career we really want to pursue? Would we have the courage to say what we want to say to whomever and not worry about their response because, damn, it felt so good to be honest to them, honest to ourselves and how we felt no matter if it is god or bad, just fearless honesty.
Honesty isn't really something I have a problem with, but tact also needs to come into play sometimes, and well, I may be doing away with some of that. I mean, how many of us have been on a date and really wanted to end it hours before we actually did, because it was the polite thing to do? Or, when they asked us if we wouldn't mind going out again, we said, "sure" when we didn't mean that at all, it was just a knee-jerk response. I'll be honest, one of the most refreshing dating moments I've had recently was when I told the guy who was bad-mouthing his ex-wife, that I found it "incredibly unattractive and he was more bitter and cynical than he was giving himself credit for." God that felt great. Or simply been in the company of someone else, co-worker, stranger, and they are just being an idiot about what they're saying. We choose to ignore them and their statements instead of telling them to can it because we don't want to cause trouble, when really they are the ones being the ass.

Tuesday and Wednesday night I had two different dates. Nice enough men, both have asked me out for a second date and I would be glad to go out with either of them again. But, I'm not excited to go out with either of them again. The reason, because the person I wanted each of them to be was, Mr. London. When there was an awkward pause in the conversation, when there was an uncomfortable silence, when I was pulling teeth to try and get another topic on the table, and well simply in general I wanted to be sitting across from him, not them. Therefore, to be fair I need to tell Mr. London how I feel. It isn't fair to me not to.

Since before I was 18 I've wanted to move. I turned down chances to attend college in Atlanta and New York just to name two. Then it was because of family. Now, I keep telling myself it is because of work, honestly it's because of fear. I'm not afraid of finding a job, or a place to live, navigating my way around, but of being able to make friends. A good solid network of friends. Think of how many people you actually go out with, talk to, hang-out with, or who knows you and who you really are. What, maybe one or two out of how many? Think how long you've known that person and how long it took to get to that point. All of mine are right here and I've known Billy my whole adult life and Nick for a couple years. However, if something happens with my job and the proposal falls through, as I still haven't heard and won't for a few more months, then this gal is going to look for a job anywhere and everywhere and I'm going to see where this thing called, life takes me.

Those are just a few fears I hope to conquer this year. Mostly, I just want to learn how to live a fearless life and not have fear be anywhere on the radar. Not on the radar when it comes to seemingly simple everyday things and also when it comes to the bigger not so seemingly simple everyday things.

How about you?

..... and very happy 2007! Be careful out there on amateur night!!

Happy Merry Christmas!

...and to all a good night with someone to spoon!

Okay, so I know it's early, but I plan a boycott of my computer from 3:00 today until sometime next week. Not sure which day the boycott will end so I wanted to get my wishes for love, tenderness, adoration, heavy petting, and (*cough*) presents in today.

I hope it is everything, anything, all that, and then some, and in whatever shape or form you want it to be in, on the Big Day for all of you. Cause, I think you're all the most bestest!

As for myself, I plan to meet with my "mentor" tomorrow morning way too bright and way too early at 10 a.m. I called to remind him of our appointment mere hours ago and well, it was a good thing I did. Yeah, nothing like driving an hour to find...no one there...
Then I plan to boycott anything that has a keyboard and screen attached to it until...as yet to be determined.
I have a, stepping stone present project for the 'rents to finish up that is causing a large mess in my living room, a.k.a library, a.k.a art room a.k.a dining room right now that my vacuum will love and adore me for. Then I plan to leave the said art table up until way past the new year cause I plan to get down and dirty in the paint. (Yes, please take that in any way you wish.)
I have a couple drink dates next week. (I am NOT moving on from Mr. London. I'm just trying to be less cynical and checking out what's around the corner. Cause, who the hell knows. I mean, have you met me? Okay, so you haven't, but play along.)
I have a shitload of manuscripts ready to go to the publishers. C'mon, rejection letters.
I also have a, big ugly comfy couch with my name written all over it and lots of mindless TV coming my way.
Movies. Lots of movies and popcorn in my future, also.
Vodka. Can't forget my love for the fermented potatoes.
And a new year to ring in. Perferably with a man attatched to my lips (or other parts) when I do so.

Oh yeah. I guess I should have mentioned. I have the next several days (14 days (including the weekends), but whose counting?) off from work. And thank god for that, cause this Party Girl is tired. Tired, tired, tired. I am emotionally drained, brain fatigued, and way too cynical for my own perpetualy perky self right now. So, I need a break.

May you all enjoy yours and may Santa be kind to all of you. I've already sent him my, "Oh, please. Do I really need to explain all of that?" letter. I am hoping for understanding, but not forgiveness.

I said, call me Betty!

I was going to write about "Apocolypto" and how it was a decent movie. How the over- all meaning was good and deep. How materialism and conspicuous consumption destroys a civilization. (Hello, America??) How humanity and revenge will kill a nation, a civiliation. How when the credits rolled I said very audibly, "Good Lord, I'm exhausted." Turning to my girlfriend, "I was going to see if you wanted to go to dinner, but I could seriously throw-up right now." Seriously. Lots o' blood. But, that's not any fun. I was way too cynical today. Then I went and saw a bloody movie and well, I'm all happy and hyper, so I called Billy. I thought I would relay the convo. In case you haven't figured it out by now, all of our conversations take place through laughter and I'm pretty sure there are hyenas looking for their mate when we're on the phone.

The conversation started by Billy telling me he got a phone call from a guy he hasn't heard or seen from in 20 years. The guy clearly had alternative motives when he called Billy. Billy wasn't up for it. Why? Because it was after 9 p.m.

PG: Jesus, you are so old.
Billy: I know. 8:59 I would have been all for it. 9, no good. Can't leave the house. I can't leave the house for a geriatric booty-call.
PG: Cause ya got your rollers in? Blowing your nails dry? Have your white bathrobe pulled up to your chin and your face is slathered with cold cream?
Billy: Yes. And call me Betty.
PG: So sad. This is like when I told you I had a date to go bowling and you were excited about the possibility of the bowling alley food. You went on and on about the greasy cheeseburger, pitcher of beer, and cheese balls. And my response was, "...I don't think I would be up for sex after all of that. Jesus. Talk about bloaty and farty. Yeah. No, sex. I can't have, bloaty-after-bowling-sex." And your response was, "Oh, I wasn't even thinking about sex." Which was a clear testament to where your life is right now.
Billy: Oh, yeah. Forgot all about that. Yeah. Sad. It's funnier the second time around though.

Then somehow the conversation merged over to strap-ons. I have no idea how. Or why.

PG: God. I could so get into that. Maybe not in terms of a relationship, but definitely for one night. Oh yeah. (...and drift off into visual...)
Billy: Really. Well, there is a long cold winter coming up.
PG: Oh, yeah. I could SO get out some of my aggression...
Billy: Oh. No. I'm not down for that...
PG: Call me Betty! Call me Betty! I don't care that it's not my name! I said, say it!
Billy: The visual I have right now....
PG: ...Are you on all fours and am I smacking your ass with a riding crop and are you calling me Betty?
Billy: No.
PG: Hmm, well in my head you are. And you like it.
(Side note: My phone makes weird quiefing sounds. It makes this really high-pitched pussy farting noise every now and again and usually when I'm on the phone with Billy.)
PG: I said to call me Betty!! Mistress Betty! I said, quief, bitch. Squeeze out another quief!! Squeeze it out! Squeeze it! Do it! I said, do it! Hey, how do you spell, "quief?"
Billy: Q-u-i-e-f. "I" before..
PG: "I" before what, "Q-U"? That's a grammar lesson I missed out on.
Billy: Betty.
PG: Martha. I said, "Quief, bitch."
Billy: Is this going to go on your blog?
PG: What do you think? "Apocolypto" or this. Yeah, tough.

Half an hour later...
PG: Hey. How do you spell, "quief?"
Billy: Q-u-i-e-f. Why? Are you writin' something?
PG: Uh-huh.
Billy: That's a conversation starter. "How do you spell, quief? There wassn't even a, 'hello.'
PG: I said, call me, Betty. Now, quief!

I dust myself off, pick myself up, and get on with life

First, thanks to all. You all are the most bestest!
Second, being a 32 year-old Party Girl, well I don't dilly or dally and I don't waddle for very long. I pick myself up, dust off, and get on with life, cause it's short. Very, very short.
Last week I discovered that I tend to cycle through the stages of grief very quickly. What are there, 7 or 9 stages? Yeah, I went through all of them in a matter of two hours on Monday and Thursday in terms of the thesis. (Fucktard, mentor.) It took me a little longer in terms of Mr. London, but hey, I'm allowed.

I cried all day...all-day... on Friday. Ah, cathartic. Saturday I hit the shopping with The Mom and well, it was good to get out of the house. Saturday night I hit the bottle of wine. (I only had half a bottle. I think that deserves a prize.) Sunday I painted a large canvas, which felt so awesome. I haven't had the time to do anything creative since the summer. Yesterday, I was sort of blah, but I went to see, "In the Pursuit of Happyness." Very good. I recommened it. (Popcorn was dee-lish.) Then I hit the workout, and I painted some more. Ahhhhhh.

Some thoughts:
First, (I'm all about my points today.) Perhaps he didn't ask me to go to London with him for a few reasons:
He knows I have my own life here. He knows I'm waiting to here about my job and I'm going to be applying to grad schools within the next year. Perhaps he thinks it would be selfish of him to ask me to pick-up and leave; to uproot my whole life just for him. It's actually pretty considerate.
Second: We haven't known each other that long.
Third: He is going to be major swamped between now and April. How much time is he going to devote to me? If he asked me to go with him and then we can only see each other once a week or something, how fair is that to either of us? And then on top of it he has asked me to move half-way around the world, but can't see me here?
Fourth: who the hell knows what will happen between now and April. If my past and present is any indication, my life is just complete random randomness. I try to live a good life. I truly believe in karma. I try to live on the good side of karma. Who knows what will happen tomorrow let alone in four months.

I do know I plan to keep him in my life because yes, that's just how I roll.

I also think perhaps the reason I met him was because I always, always fall for the wrong man. Always. The one who makes all the promises, but has no follow-through. The one who says all the things I want to hear, butdoesn't mean any of them. Just a day of rememberance, some highlights this year there has been: Out-of-Towner, The Dick (the guy who was married, but failed to inform me of that.) The guy who smoked pot everyday. The guy who talked horribly about his ex-wife. And on and on and on.... So, maybe he is just to prove to me that I can fall for a good man.

Perhaps I don't need to over think it and just enjoy it and see where life takes me. I truly plan to enjoy the ride.

Another update: Over the weekend, out of nowhere, two guys who I meet previously, but it didn't go any where because my schedule sucked big hairy donkey balls, well, they emailed me over the weekend. They just wanted to say, hello and to see what I've been up to, and would I like to get together some time.
I'm not saying I'm moving on. I'm not saying, Mr. London is out of my heart. I'm simply saying, life is funny and you never know what's going to be around the corner. I'm looking forward to see what awaits.

life is funny- in a not so hilarious way

Life and how it unfolds is also all about timing. I always seem to be on the wrong time. I always seem to be running about 15 minutes late.
This is an update on my love life and also on my thesis. The thesis part will be short.

Okay, so I haven't been talking about my love life recently and here's why, because it has been going too well to write about. I didn't want to talk or write about it because truly, wow. I met the most wonderful man (notice, not a guy) a little over six weeks ago. He is: smart, funny, successful, a blast to be around, a laugh a minute, he has follow-through and doesn't play games. He actively listens and asks questions, he knows how to carry on a conversation and talks with me for hours about everything and anything. He's easy to be with. Completely opposite in the way I think, he's a left, I'm a right brainer, but it doesn't matter. This relationship is like breathing, so easy, don't need to think about it, it just is. I am totally myself. I'm not trying to jinx it, ruin it, or fuck it up in any way, shape or form. I truly, truly enjoy being with this man. On top of all of that he absolutely repects me and he isn't trying to simply get me into bed, fuck me, and kick me out, he actually really wants to get to know me. Me, as a whole person. Wow. Yeah, girl moment. Color me so impressed, and twitterpatted.

Over Turkey Day week he went to London and Barcelona to give a talk on alternative fuel resources (yeah, he's like super extra mega smart. Whole, PhD, 32 years old, works at local Big State University as a researcher) As a result of this talk, last week he was offered a job at King's College. That's in London. This week he accepted the job and he will be moving to London at the end of April.
Last night we broke up. Why did we break up? Because he doesn't want to lead me on. He doesn't want to fall for me even more. He doesn't want me to get hurt. He doesn't want to be the jerk. He wants me to be a priority, as I should be, but he knows I won't be in the next months. He knows I will get pushed to the side and that's not fair. Not fair to me. Not fair to him because he knows he'll fall for me even more.
I said, "I am truly, truly happy for you. I really am. But, I am also sad for me."
To which he responded, "Yeah. Exactly."
"Life it's all about timing."
"Yeah. Timing."

We agreed to still be friends and keep hanging out with each other in the next months. As friends.
Of course.
As much as I hope and want that to happen, I don't know that I can.

Here's my girl moment: I think you all know me well enough to know how I am in terms of love, relationships, and men. I'm cynical. I am guarded. I've been hurt. I've been lied to and cheated on. I've been chewed up and spit out. When things are going well I will, and have, always fucked it up (on purpose) in some way. I don't fall. I don't become smitten. I am not the girl who goes all girl about a guy.
But, see, here's the thing, he's not a guy. He's a man. A true gentleman. I would absolutely, without hesitation, pick up and move. Move to London. Move half way around the world to be with him. I know, I know. Trust me, I know. But, it's true. If he asked me to move with him, I absolutely would move. Completely and totally irrational makes not a lick of sense, but I can't articulate how calm it makes me. How completely sane it sounds and seems to me.

So, last night as I closed the door behind him, and I really didn't want to close the door. To close it behind him. Because as soon as a door is closed, it's closed. Who knows when and how it will be reopened. If that person will ever appear on the other side again. As soon as the door was shut, I placed my hands on the door and with my forehead against the painted wood, even before I had a chance to bolt the locks, the tears started. They continued well past the point of being in bed and they started as soon as my alarm went off this morning. They've continued since I've been at work. (I knew mascara and contacts were a mistake today.) I'm sure they will flow freely, today.

Timing.
Yeah.
Timing.
Maybe he was supposed to come into my life to let me know there are good men out there. That I can be open and myself and I don't have to be gaurded, I can just be.
Maybe he came into my life to tell me I need to move. Not to London, but when I am finished with school in May I need to forget about this place and pick up and leave. Somwhere, anywhere, but move. I've always thought and known that my personality is too big for this place.
Maybe I don't know why yet.

(Exhale....)


Thesis update: Monday 12/11. I was to defend my thesis at 3:40. My "mentor" called me at 9:45 to tell me it wouldn't pass and it was disorganized. I need to take an incomplete and if I want, he will have another mentor work with me and he is now willing to meet me half way, ect. (Recall that I asked for an incomplete and the week before my thesis was, "good, very good")
Tues 12/12, I leave a message stating I want a new mentor.
Thurs 12/14 He calls me at 1:30 to tell me no one is will to work with me (pause) because of the holiday and winter break. (yeah, thinking he could have put that sentence in front of the other one.) Everyone has now read it and it is, "disorganized, rambling and I don't know how to construct a sentence and my use of grammar is very poor." He is willing to meet me at his office on 12/23 at 10 a.m. to help me on this.
I apologize to everyone who reads this blog for any rambling and disorganization that I have in my posts. I will try to have a better grasp of the English language, soon.
I also guess all of the "A's" I've recieved, as well as being published, as well as the praise I've received over the years, all crap.
Wow, way to kick me. Yesterday I lost all faith in myself. I was going to send several pieces out to the publishers yesterday and I couldn't bring myself to do it, not after I spoke with him. I completely doubted my ability to write. How dare he. Then I had another instructor look at it and she thinks because my page 3 and 4 are weak they then didn't read any further because she doesn't see what he means. So, by last night I was over that. I'll work on it next week and kick it out of the ballpark.

So, broken hearted and doubted myself, my writing, and my education. How was your Thursday?

word origins: "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye"

I LOVE this one:
The saying, "It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye" is from ancient Rome. The only rule during wrestling matches was no eye gouging. Everything else was allowed, but the only way to be disqualified was to poke someone's eyes out. (Yaou-za!)

(Or, if you get a Red Rider BB Gun then you'll shot your eye out. Had to add that one)

inner dork: Satan, The Devil, Beelzebub, Lucifer

Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, sinister isn't it?
Have you ever wondered what the difference between, Satan, the Devil, Beelzebub, and Lucifer are? No? Well, dammit I have and now I have the answer.
So, did you know....

Satan is the name of God's archenemy in Judaism and Christianity. In Jewish tradition, God did not create this evil being; in Christian tradition, God did. The word frequently means "accuser."
The Old Testament doesn't mention his fall from heaven. In the New Testament, post-fall and proper name now instated, he tried to tempt Jesus into worshipping him and cements his reputation as the personification of evil. (Ta dah!)

The Devil: The one title that comes with a "the" (sounds so important, doesn't it?) is regarded in the Judeo-Christian scheme as a fallen angel. According to Christianity, the Devil tries to lead humans astray from the path toward redemption. The Devil has several meanings including, "adversary" and "slanderer."

Beelzebub: This one first appears in the Old Testament as a Phillistine god in the city of Ekron, southwest of Jerusalem. In Hebrew, the word means "lord of the flies" (yep, just like the book.) By the New Testament, he has in effect merged with the concept of Satan and evolved into the aforementioned Prince of Devils or Prince of Demons.

Lucifer: Lucifer is Latin for "light bearer" or "morning star" (not very sinister sounding, is it? More like hippy children if you ask me.) When the Bible was being translated into Latin, early Christians interpreted a passage from babylonian cuneiform mentioning "Lucifer" as the story of Satan, an angel in high standing who rebelled against God and was tossed from heaven to hell, where he became leader of the demons (cue scary music.)

Class dismissed. Now, go pray.

just sayin'

I think at the next departmental meeting when they ask, "Does anyone have anything else they want to bring up?"

I'm going to suggest casual sex Fridays.

Whatcha think?

inner dork: hodge-podge

Oh, I do love a good dorking. Today's category: is a complete hodge-podge of things.

Did you know....

The practice of exchanging presents at Christmas started with the Romans.
(And God bless. Wait..that's not right..)

According to ceremonial customs of Orthodox Judaism, it is officially sundown when a person cannot tell the difference between a black thread and a red thread.
(Okay, don't know about you all, but for me the diffrence can be between wearing my glasses and not wearing my glasses, regardless of where the sun is.)

Maine is the toothpick capital of the world.
(I will remember that the next time I eat corn on the cob.)

NERF, as in the football, doesn't actually stand for anything.
(Really? Not even on the purple footballs? Even when they are soaked with water??)

One ragweed plant can release as many as one billion grains of pollen.
(And I feel every. single. one.)

Rats can't vomit.
(Yeah. I don't know. I just thought it was funny. I mean, did it even occur to you that they couldn't?)

The average raindrop falls at 7 MPH
(So, when one hits you on the top of the head and you say, Ouch! now you don't have to feel like a sissy.)

Organized crime accounts for an estimated 10% of the United States national income.
(That is one hell of a garbage business. I'm just sayin'.)

The sale of vodka makes up 10% of Russian government income.
(..and it takes 10% of mine.)

and now the rest of the story

... thesis has been finished.

I sent the final draft at 3:15 yesterday.

Here's why I was so stressed. It had nothing to do with the topic. It had nothing to do with the page requirement. It had everything to do with the fact that I was supposed to be able to pick the mentor of my choosing and have help all through the process. I didn't have any of that. I did the thesis completely and totally on my own. No help.

It started back in September. Email from the head of the English department at Big Name Private College. I was hoping to be able to do a creative project, but no can do. No, problem. I pull a topic out of my ass. "The American Dream in terms of: The Great Gatsby, Death of a Salesman, and Tortilla Curtain." Eh, not bad. Not great, but not bad. I wasn't willing to dive into books I hadn't already read. These I have read to death.

I then go on the, great white futile search for a mentor. See, I've been doing night classes at satellite locations and 99.9% of my professors have been adjuncts. The only full-time person I know, I didn't care for. (This past summer. She missed two weeks out of a five week course. Yeah. That was worth the $1,000.) So, I go with my favorite adjunct instructor. Nick beat me to the punch by literally five minutes. Damn, gay. So, can't have her. I go with option number two, he already has four students and can't take on a fifth. K. I go with option number three. Contemp. lit isn't her dilly-yo. K. Choice four....repeat until you get to six. See. I had nothing...absolutely nothing..to go on in terms of which door I should pick because I didn't know jack or shit about any of these people. Never met any of them. Never taken a class with any of them they also know nothing about me. At this point we're already almost two weeks into it and I'm still without a mentor. I call the dept. head and he tells me, "I'm an Americanist, so I'd be a good choice."

K.

What the hell is an, Americanist? Am I an Americanist, because you know, I'm an American?

Anyway. Finally have a mentor. My sixth choice, but I finally have one. I tell him my paper topic. I'm told, "It's okay, yet fairly obvious." I take out, "Death of a Salesman" and tell him how I am going to proceed. I'm not doing some lame-ass character analysis or anything like that. I'm going to do it in terms of how futile the American Dream is and how it's gone from being about substance and family to being about materialism and how ultimately the Dream consumes a person and can kill them. He likes it. Yay! me.

I proceed to meet all deadlines. However, I'm supposed to meet with my mentor throughout this whole process. I email him to see about getting together. I give him my schedule: work full-time and part-time, taking 16 credits, I work until 5:30 every night and I live 80 miles away from the main campus. Could we meet somewhere half-way or on a Saturday as it would be after 7pm by the time I would be able to meet?

Nope. He wasn't willing to meet half-way. He wasn't willing to meet on a Saturday.

K.

We agreed we would just do this through email and phone.

K.

I meet all deadlines for outlines, sources using, ect.

Then October 10th happened. That was the day I discovered I was in the wrong class, (the Java class) and the class I need to be in won't be offered until Feb. So, I am no longer graduating in December. Or, next week, however, I want to look at it. All ambition, drive, gritted teeth determination, going on all cylinders on six hours of sleep, perpetually perkiness, always optimistic, yet slightly cynical went completely to hell. I was now beyond stressed as this completely screwed everything up. Grad school had to be delayed, getting another part-time job was now going to be virtually impossible, my life was going to have to be put on hold...again, and I had to magically whip $1,000 out of my pretty little boh-tay, and my, "I totally rock and kick-ass because I managed to complete four years of college in two, but more importantly, I just kick-ass," trip to Greece wasn't going to happen. Therefore, I was tired. Tired, stressed, bitter, and my cynical level was at an all new high. Oh, and perpetually perky had flown the coop. As one person put it, "...I remember when you use to be fun." Which got a response of, "Gee, Ass, that didn't hurt my feelings." Yeah.

Moving on.

I sent my "mentor" a very, very rough draft at the end of October, as the final was due December 1st. I heard nothing back.

I sent another pretty schlocky* draft at the first part of November. I heard nothing back.

I then sent Nick a draft to look at a couple days before Thanksgiving to get some feedback on as I was starting to get very irritated with my "mentor."

Nick said, good, but not cohesive in any way.
Yeah, I know.

I was then so sick of trying to work with the schlockyity, schlock, schlock I had that I then started a new 30+ page draft the week after Thanksgiving. Again, finally is due 12/1.. Still no word from my mentor on anything I've sent him.

I then talk with my mentor and find out he hasn't received anything I've sent him.

Great.

I fax him one of my schlocky drafts. Just a clue: It takes eight minutes and 43 seconds to fax 30 pages. Just lettin' you all know.

He tells me, my research is great, my ideas are great, my writing is shit.

Okay. he didn't say, shit. He did say, my writing wouldn't pass.

I then tell him, no, shit Sherlock.

Okay. I didn't say, Sherlock. I did say, "Yeah, I know. It was a very, very bad draft. I was just showing you my ideas and what I had to see if it was okay."

He didn't seem convinced. I think he thinks I'm an idiot. Oh, and he had no sense of humor. How the hell did I get this guy? Doesn't he know I'm hee-larious?

Anyway. Incredibly long story short. (No. Really. It is much longer than this.) Repeat the parts where he doesn't receive my drafts and I have to fax it, three times.

Repeat this next part at least eight times: He never receives any of my emails or drafts, however, it takes me four-five days before I receive notification by email stating that it didn't go through.
Then there was last weekend: Since he isn't receiving my emails we decide I will email my draft to his home account so he can look at it over the weekend. He calls to tell me he got it and he'll look at it Saturday morning. He'll give me his feedback and I can turn in my final on Monday the 4th. (Deadline was Friday 1st). He called early Saturday morning to tell me his computer crashed and he lost my paper. I didn't get this voice mail until late Saturday afternoon as I had to work. I then sent it to a different email address. He would go into the office on Sunday to get it. He called early Sunday to say, he didn't receive my email. I try a different email addresses. I send two, one with my paper attached, one without it attatched. I call him to tell him his. He is very excited as he received the one without and he anticipates the other with will follow shortly. "Well, see. I sent the one with the attatchment, first."

At this point we're both frustrated. He tells me to fax it to him on Monday, he'll give me feedback, he extends my deadline to Tuesday, but he still wants me to defend it on Thursday.

K. No, pressure there.

He gets back to me Monday afternoon. He likes it. Good paper, here are his suggestions and some changes to make. Great. I'm flying high. Go, me! Then, then, he says something that pushes me over perverbial edge and makes my stress level increase and my heart beat to cardiac arrest levels. "Yeah, I just really wish we had more time to work on this together, to tighten your quotes and such."

I'm sorry. What was that? Ummmmmmmmmm, yeah. I really wish you had found it in your life to make the time to meet me half-way somewhere so you'd know who the hell I was when I go and defend this thing. I wish you would have returned my phone calls, and received my emails so then we would have had more time to work on this together.

Yeah, I didn't say any of that. Instead I say. "Okay. Well. I want an 'A' on this paper." He, of course, can't guarantee that. He, of course, doesn't know how the other members of the department will react to the paper." I hold off from saying, "Um, yeah, Dick, I mean, Todd, no, shit." Instead I say, "Well, yeah, I know that." He wants me to make the changes that day/night and turn it into him the next day and he still wants me to defend it Thursday. (This was Monday, 12/4.) Blood. pressure. so. high. I don't feel this is fair to me. I'm not whining, I'm not bitching. I simply don't think it's fair. I tell him, "I take full responsibility for the emails not getting to you, but c'mon." That, I did say. He has full faith that I can do this. Personally, I think that because he is the dept. head that it will reflect poorly on him if I have to change my defense date, my deadline, or take an incomplete and finish this in the spring. Just a guess, but I'm guessin' I'm right.

I think about it for about 10 minutes. Nope. Not happy. Not fair. This sucks. Plus, I didn't have my laptop that night to be able to work on it at home, I'd have to stay at work. (Which is no big deal. I stay late all the time to finish up papers so I don't have to do it when I get home.) I also was afraid that in my rush to fix the suggestions he had that I would inevitably make more mistakes. I call and tell him this.

Sure, no problem. I can have until Wednesday, change my defense date to Monday, 11th.

I finished my thesis yesterday at 3:15 and emailed it to him. Stress level back to, not even palpable. Perpetually perky always optimistic yet slightly cynical girl has returned. As one person put it yesterday, "It's nice to see you smile again."

Ahhhhhhhhhh.......

I called him yesterday and again this morning to tell him I emailed it and can he please let me know either if he did or did not receive the damn..I mean, great piece, of writing I sent him. I am still waiting to hear from him.

Whatev.

The vodka tasted awesome last night. The cuddle time on the couch was much appreciated as well. And life is back to normal. (Whatever that means.)

Thanks everyone for the cheerleading. It was much, much appreciated!

*Schlocky is Yiddish for, 'el crapo,' which is Spanish for, 'big pile of poo.'