architectural cream

This weekend was actually quite good. I was able to spend a significant amount of time reorganizing my filing system. To the average human, this would sound tedious and quite boring. In my twisted world, this is categorized as "fun." Good, productive, time-consuming fun with an obvious result. The office is finally coming together (with the exception of the extra furniture we had been gifted that we are afraid to do anything with). I would like to paint the walls this color (Architectural Cream by Ralph Lauren):

However, I do not see any painting in my future as painting seems to only be done based on how much it "needs" to be done. Thus, I am secretly hoping that the walls begin to peel, which would necessitate the painting of the room. I have the rest of the room nearly to my liking, right now it is just the stark walls that are inhibiting the flow of my perfect thesis environment.

punishment

All of my negativity is now manifesting itself in the form of a sinus headache, nose stuffiness, and sore throat. It began yesterday when I was already feeling pitiful and has now developed into a cold. Even though I resolved to end the bitterness, lo and behold a cold appears. Thus, I could blame myself for lowering the power of my immune system through negative thought. However, I prefer to blame the children.

Of course I don't have children, but my coworkers do and I know that one of them has sick children. Children are carriers of the evil viruses that cause adults to miss work. Missing work is hard enough when you are doing it on purpose for, say, a vacation. You come back to work to find that the amount of work you missed is exponentially larger than the amount of hours missed. It is even worse when you are sick. You get to stay home, but you are miserable the whole time so it isn't even worth it.

The man has many coworkers who have spawned. These coworkers also bring their children's viruses to work and infect the man. However, the amount of chemicals in the food that the man eats has preserved him, giving him superhuman strength to fend off the majority of illnesses. I, on the other hand, am often the receptacle for the viruses unable to make their home in the man. This is not the man's fault. In a way, he is just the messenger. The messenger of evil from the children who hope to cause my suffering and nose runniness.

maladies #7: you can't handle the truth

Well, well, well, where do I start. The appointment can be summed up in one word: shit. The doctor is shit. His diagnosis is shit. I'd like to throw shit at the doctor. I feel like shit. The doctor is happy with the progress I have made, but is unsure of any next steps other than a very pricey, possibly beneficial, possibly detrimental, extremely painful series of procedures that may, might, possibly, when pigs fly out my ass, could fix the problem. So, now that my pelvis isn't all wonky, he's going to have me continue with physical therapy twice daily for the next three months, and possibly, if I do not feel much worse by that time, I might be able to cut it down to five times per week. But, there is no telling if it will make the pain go away. I might end up with killer six-pack abs, but what good does that do if I still feel like the wishbone from the Thanksgiving turkey.

I'm going back to my physical therapist next week to see if he has any additional or altered exercises for me to do. If not, I will likely not have to see him anymore. There was much talk of deep tissue massage to break up the scar tissue, but the doctor doesn't necessarily suggest that, but he doesn't necessarily not suggest it either. It might work, he said, but it might not. Wow! I found the only doctor who can get by with the mindset of a meteorologist, "it might rain, but it might not - I'd say there is a fifty percent chance." You know what doc, I say there is a fifty percent chance that you'll walk out your door tomorrow morning to find a flaming bag of ... you guessed it: SHIT.

maladies #6: chilly with a slight chance of my head exploding

It is cold outside. My body feels it, my muscles feel it, my bones feel it, my joints feel it. I get to go to see the sports medicine doctor again today (the doctor that prescribed the physical therapy) to see how I've progressed and to get a recommendation for the next course of action. I know that I have made progress and that I should be happy with that. I shouldn't complain or pity myself because all-in-all, things could be much worse. However, I'm human and I don't like being in pain all the time. That pain is what keeps me focused on trying to find some sort of remedy. That pain also keeps me constantly on edge, which sucks for those who need to be around me.

I'm optimistic about my appointment, because the goal of the physical therapy was to realign and stabilize my pelvis, which has happened with the exception of a couple instances or relapse. My optimism, as always, is tempered by the thought that this pain has been constant and sometimes overwhelming for nearly ten years and I question what can be done now that hasn't been attempted already. Let's hope that this doctor has some sort of miracle and that it isn't going to cost me too much to get there.

november rain

When it rains it pours, that's for damned sure. I've had a busy November so far, and it is only the 6th. I was able to take yesterday off from work, which did wonders for my weekend happiness, but I'm now buried under paperwork back at the office. I think everyone finds themselves in this cycle: take a day off from work, work normal hours plus hours taken off to make up work missed on day off. Ah, I am doomed to keep repeating this until I find a way to get ahead of the work streaming into my inbox. If you invent time travel, let me know...I'll be the one beating her head against her desk.

I was productive over the weekend. I reorganized the furniture in the den in preparation for the man's parents, who will be visiting over Thanksgiving. Also, I did a bit of financial management. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have a handle on my finances. Yes, there are the student loans, an auto loan, and many monthly payments to consider, but I have a well-devised plan to cut down my debt substantially in 20 months. Of course, this plan does require that I cut out nearly all my discretionary spending, but that is something I am willing to do in order to wake up one morning in 2009 and not feel like I'm sinking in payments. I've been tinkering with my budget for over a year, but I finally think I can make my planned and actual budgets match now. Already, I am feeling quite relieved.

The budgetary planning success has given me an idea as to how I can feel like less of a failure on a daily basis (regarding my thesis). Similar to my financial tracking and monitoring, I will be creating workload and chapter plans with measurable milestones. I will set timelines to keep myself accountable and update them daily. I am beginning with a home office overhaul. As it stands, despite my attempts, the office is still not a space I consider conducive to studying/working. The only use the room even gets is a depository for my files and a playground for Cat Named Jack. If work is to be done, it will have to be done in this room. Progress is set to begin today after work.

absentminded

I've become a pothead without smoking pot. In other words, my short term memory is shot and I zone out quite frequently. Since there is absolutely no herbal intake, I blame stress. However, this is only selective short term memory loss as it is not affecting my work life. My personal life, however, is another story. Either my memory is crap, or I just don't listen. The man has gotten quite irritated that he has to repeat things to me that he has told me before. Perhaps I'm turning into a man.

halloween

I've apparently gone crazy and dressed up the animals. However, it was Halloween and I'm a firm believer that everyone should dress up for the holiday. As a result, I present Jackson Pinkerton III and Princess Jammer Leia.

Jack didn't mind the costume, but didn't want to sit still long enough for me to get a clear photo. He was bribed with treats to get the one I posted above. I think he looks quite dapper in his tie. Unfortunately, this "dress-up" led to this:

It may appear to be sniffing, but about two seconds after this photo was taken, the teeth and claws came out to remind me "Dude, don't fuck with me. I don't like clothes."

Conversely, Jammer has always loved clothes, though we don't usually let her wear anything other than her collar and bandanna. She loved everything about this outfit, except for the "hair."

Jammer didn't wear the outfit for long, only about ten minutes. We don't get any trick-or-treaters so we dressed her for our own amusement and then went along with the evening as we normally would. Don't call PETA, no animals were harmed in the making of a happy Halloween. Actually, they did more damage to me than I did to them. Jammer freaked out when I took off her costume and she realized she was naked, nearly knocking me to the ground. And I don't need to explain how much damage a pissed off Jack can do to human flesh.

happy halloween

Today we are having a Halloween potluck at work. I must say that my costume is the best I've ever come up with. I'm Tippi Hedron from Hitchcock's The Birds, complete with blond wig, '60s dress, and crow attacking my head. Yes, there is also blood and torn nylons. I may have to post a photo. Unfortunately, I am the only one in costume thus far. I do know a coworker will be partaking in the delights of costume-wearing, but she won't be in until 10 am. Oh well.

Also, it was the man's birthday yesterday, which went very well with the exception that we had dinner with two sets of his grandparents two nights in a row. Oh, and one of them brought up marriage. And the man didn't seem too opposed to the possibility, which caused a near panic attack on my end because we have never discussed it. I guess it might come to that at some point, but I've never really considered "our" life ending up there. I'm not anti-marriage when it comes to the man, but in front of his 86-year-old grandmother is not the appropriate time to have that first discussion. We are going to see Jimmy Buffett in Vegas next October, I'll make sure I build my tolerance up by then or I may come home with more than a hangover.

oh, come on...

Today is a "what the fuck?" day. Since the minute I woke up, things have been on a weird plane. The man is abnormally outward with his feelings today, which throws me off. The pets were actually calm this morning, nothing like their normal AM behavior. These are good things. Work, of course, is another story.

Warning: I'm about to bitch about my job. Today is the kind of day where, instead of leaving early like I should due to the amount of hours I've already put in this week, I'll likely be staying late or coming in tomorrow. I had my day plotted out, time parceled, etc. That blew out the fucking window at 8:45 this morning. I guess I have to "roll with the punches."

quicksand

The man is extremely stressed out these days, which is only remotely good because it allows me to get perspective on my own stress. In comparison, my stresses aren't as bad as his and thus, I am reminded to count my blessings.

I'm not going to go into details, but lately there seems to be a tidal wave of negative outcomes pouring down on the man. Family issues, business issues, career issues, transportation issues, all have reared their ugly heads this week. He was full of optimism not even one week ago, but in the matter of three days he has been sucked into the quicksand of doubt and negativity. Like quicksand, adding more negative happenings to a person can suck them further and further into the expectation of future bad occurrences.

I am trying to remain positive, despite my own propensity to be cynical. Luckily, I do not doubt the man and his abilities so it is easy for me to give him a pep talk every now and again. Mainly, I'm trying to listen so that he is able to purge some of the weight that is dragging him down. Today is a new day and I hope that I go home to find that he has risen a bit out of the frustration. It is very difficult to be cheery when someone around you is angst-ridden.

spreading the love

I have a two inch by one inch poison ivy wound healing on my ankle. I found it while I was in the shower about two weeks ago. I just assumed that I had somehow unknowingly come across it. Upon further reflection, I realized that I have not been anywhere to get said poison ivy allergic reaction: no forests, no ditches, no long grass or wooded areas of any kind. Where, one might ask, did I pick up poison ivy? I was perplexed. One morning the man looked at my unsheathed ankle (free of it's binds after the irritation cleared up) and said "ow, what happened there?". I explained and all of a sudden he looked quite sheepish. The man had a hunch at how I procured said irritation because he, the man, had brought it home to me.

The man is one of the rare superhumans who is not allergic to things people normally have reactions to, like poison ivy and mosquito bites. The man and some of his buddies went to play paintball (you guessed it) two weeks ago. There are weeds and grass and poison ivy and trees there. He brought home the horrible itchiness of the poison ivy and somehow managed to strategically place it on the inside of my ankle. A place where a lovely kitten-heeled shoe can wreak havoc on the sensitive skin covered with a small section of rashy, horrible, irritating poison ivy outbreak.

As it was already nearly gone, I couldn't be super-pissed at him anymore. He just grinned and said that as long as the worst thing he ever brings home to me is poison ivy irritation, I should be happy. Some men bring home herpes.

progress

I've been working a lot lately, on a variety of projects. I'm nearly finished with my side project for a former coworker. I'm creating a Website for the man's new business. I've been putting in overtime at work. I've been putting in time on my thesis. I've been working to revamp some spaces in the house. Whew, I've been busy.

Suffice it to say, I've made substantial progress in many of the aforementioned areas and as a result of my working so much there have been fewer posts lately. I apologize, but need to mention that although I've made progress, there is still much work to do. I will try to post regularly.

maladies #5: takes a licking and keeps on ticking

I haven't brought up my physical therapy appointments lately. I am still doing an hour of exercises daily to try to fix all of the issues, but we hit a bit of a roadblock last week. Apparently, my body decided to go haywire, just to show me that I am not, in fact, in control. Out of the blue, despite all my efforts, I regressed to my pre-physical therapy status of pain, snapping muscles, cramping muscles, muscles seemingly on fire, pain, pelvic nonalignment, pain, and oh, did I already mention the pain? Frustration followed, as did a brief spell of pity partying. But, that was short lived and I continued doing the exercises, though they had been altered a bit because of my regression.

Apparently, the changes have worked as I am once again on track to "recovery" as of my appointment yesterday afternoon. My strength, though not Herculean, has improved nonetheless, as has my flexibility. My muscles are wound tighter than a nun in the Red Light District, but after some awful stretches and massage techniques, they seem to be loosening a bit (my muscles, not the nuns).

I have another appointment next week, and if all goes well I might not have to continue my weekly visits. I'll keep you posted.

new opportunities

The man and I were actually able to spend some time together this weekend as this was his first weekend off from work since June (if not earlier). We had a great weekend and were able to accomplish a lot of small projects that we had been putting off. Also, we took some time to do nothing but enjoy one another's company, which was a welcome change from the perfunctory ways we spend time together, such as going to the hardware store or eating dinner.

Some new opportunities have revealed themselves in terms of the man's career. As a result of some savvy purchases and networking over the course of the past month, he has been able to make significant headway toward opening his own business. This project has been "in the works" for quite some time, but now the focus has shifted, allowing for a much more timely opening date and a more manageable workload.

I'm quite happy for him and I know that he will be much more content with life in general when he is back doing work that he enjoys. The selfish side of me sees how much time and energy must be put out in opening a new business and anticipates negative consequences (namely, less time for me). I'm going to have to try to be as supportive as possible because I know how much the business means to him. I do know, from experience, that there will be some rough patches ahead. This (the new business and the effects on our relationship) won't be easy.

In other news, I will be an aunt to a second tiny human as my brother and his wife are expecting their second child in May.

reasons why i am restless

1. seemingly insurmountable workload at work, and that doesn't even take into account my normal work responsibilities (leading me to feel like I have failed each time I leave the office)
2. still understaffed at work
3. hourly wage + no overtime = donation of multiple work hours to employer each week
4. minimal quality time with the man due to our conflicting work schedules
5. summer has passed, and I have participated in zero fun summer activities with the man
6. inexplicably, my physical therapy seems to have stopped progressing, meaning a new approach will be taken
7. roadblock in terms of special side project
8. lack of friend time and time with the man has been leading to all work and no play
9. rising costs of everything
10. thesis still isn't finished

frustration abundant

I realize that things aren't easy for people. I admit that I've struggled since college. Other people couldn't even go to college for a multitude of reasons, making me one of the privileged with an advanced degree. There are times when I throw myself a pity party about not being happy with the hourly wage that I consider to be a mere pittance. However, I have to realize that many people support their entire family for less than I earn.

So, I might not be fulfilled in my job. I might yearn for something more substantive and less dull. But, there are components of my job that keep me here: sometimes the work is engaging and rewarding, I enjoy my coworkers, and I feel like I might be able to make a difference (once things finally get the blessing of those with higher positions).

I remember how downtrodden I felt when I was looking for a job, there were times when I was upset and felt worthless and that my education had failed me. Those thoughts were fleeting, but they were persistent. A dear friend of mine is having a similar time right now and through my own experience I have found that a swift kick in the ass is required to break out of that slump. As much as I love her, I need her to know that she is not lacking, simply because she receives a couple rejection letters. At 26, your experience cannot possibly add up to that of someone ten years older who has been in the same field for over a decade. The economy cannot support all of the job seekers' needs right now and one needs to be patient, as difficult as that might be.

I am a firm believer that things happen for a reason. That job that looked so great might lead you down a path that diverts you from your intended fate. The job that looks like a dream come true might in reality be the avenue to contemplation of suicide. Be thankful that things happen the way that they do, because, hey...you never know when you are going to look back and see a bunch of dodged bullets in place of those rejection letters.

blinding odor

Judging from the smell, either a sewer main just busted or someone sharted in my office building.

weekend update

I'm still sick, but on the verge of getting "better." As for the state of my relationship with the man...things are phenomenally better. The man is legitimately taking into account how his actions will affect me and has...dare I say...been making good choices. I think the argument has led to some very positive outcomes and I'm really happy that he is making such an effort.

I've been frustrated with work lately due to a number of projects being taken on with not enough staff to complete the tasks at hand. I have become irritated with my boss as a result, despite knowing that he is just doing his job. Unfortunately, it is wearing on my already loose grip on keeping things from falling through the cracks, which is making me somewhat short and less tactful than normal. I think things will pan out eventually. Rather, I hope things will pan out eventually.

Mostly, I'm just happy that the man and I are on the same page again. It is always much better to go home and not want to harm your significant other.

heal

I'm on the mend from my flu/cold. I still don't feel good, but am more able to function as a human being. My weekend is looking to be one of work and waiting. I'll be working on some projects and cleaning the house while I wait for the man to get done with work so that I do not feel as though I should also be working. I have this problem where I feel like I should be working if he is working, that it isn't fair that I relax while he is toiling away the hours. I know that this is horse shit. I can't help it. I've never been one to shirk my duties, and I feel lazy knowing that I'm lounging around or sleeping in while the man is at work and there are a.) things that could be done around the house, or b.) work I could be doing on my projects. This "must work" concept is even less viable when taken into consideration that the man sees it fit to play video games all day on his days off (while I am at work).

So, I would like to say that I will try to be lazy all weekend, though I know I will become stir crazy and clean the bathroom for the third time this week. Perhaps I will get high off the fumes and spend a couple restful hours passed out on the floor. One can only hope.

Oh yeah, one thing I know I won't be doing this weekend is making meth. The bastards at Walgreen's would not allow me to purchase both DayQuil and NyQuil at the same time, because I might make meth. Yes, I'm oozing snot out of my face, sneezing on the counter, and talking like Fran Drescher because I need my 'Quils so that I can make some fucking meth with them. I know that this is a "law" now, but come on. If you are sick and you need to have medicines, do you really want to go to multiple locations, which can be tracked by the system and you could potentially be turned away, or wait until the next day because god forbid you would like to be awake and sleep on the same damned day! The government's attitude of punish the masses for the actions of the few can just suck my ass. Yes, I did just write suck my ass, which I find to be the most despicable saying, but I did so because that is how bad I felt when I was forced to decide between functioning while awake or sleeping without dying. I chose to be a functioning, conscious adult and thus have been forced to deal with the lack of sleep, which has caused the obvious tirade.

sweat hog

Yesterday was a short workday. I left halfway through the day after much prodding from coworkers who likely weren't amused by my constant nose blowing. As a result, I spent most of yesterday in a supine position, hoping that the mucus would run out of my sinuses and straight down my throat, rather than clogging every crevice of my head and cutting off my nasal passageways. This worked only periodically and every time I got up I was met with a dizzy spell and subsequent dam break of liquid coming out of my nose. It was hot.

Today, the pressure in my sinuses is so great that my brain is being cooked to perfection and is only lacking the addition of some potatoes and carrots. I'm at work, though, despite feeling like five kinds of ass. The fever has set in. I'm normally freezing at work, but not today. Today my office is a sauna. A sauna of stagnant virus-filled air. I am torn between keeping my door shut to contain the outbreak, which would increase the temperature, or if I would rather share my illness with the rest of the office in lieu of some much needed cool air circulation. I'm opting to keep the door closed, but not for their benefit. I'm on a somewhat short temper due to the pressure in my noggin and I would rather not hear or see any of my coworkers. I guess this could still be viewed as an off-kilter form of altruism.

Things are still weird with the man, mainly because we are both ill and don't have the energy to make up. We don't even hug each other, we just kind of lean into one another, hoping that we can balance that way without either of us collapsing. This unspoken avoidance, even though it is illness-induced, makes the argument feel as though it is being prolonged. We make a good couple, the man and I. He is busy hacking out his lungs while my nose has become a spigot of nastiness.

mood swings 3: D-Fence!

Well, I brought up the pending issue of "friend time" with the man. All attempts to couch the discussion failed. I asked him to hear me out before going on his guard, but of course, he was defensive from the get go. There were many words put into my mouth and I didn't get around to saying what I wanted to say until approximately three hours after the fight started. There was an interim where I was confused as to what the hell was going on and I had actually begun to think that I had overreacted.

Finally, I remembered and was able to say "I intended just to ask that your friends, who have a lot of free time in comparison to us, would be more understanding of the limited time we actually do have when we can be together. My hope is that they will think before calling and inviting themselves over after having spent the last five days at our house." This statement led to the man's apology for overreacting and not letting me speak my piece before he took things out of context.

In other news: I went to bed at 11PM feeling fine, but woke up at 2:30AM barely able to breathe through my swollen sore throat and due to my burning, congested sinus cavities. It looks like along with an apology, the man has given me a raging early autumn cold. Yay.

mood swings 2

I spoke to the man on my lunch break. Things appear as though they may be better this week in terms of unwanted guests. One can only hope.

His mood was much improved over this morning and I think there may be an opening for an only slightly unpleasant discussion concerning "friend time" this evening. Maybe I'm just annoyed because of the weather. It is cold and rainy, reminding me that summer is over every time I look out the window. It is not a pleasant reminder.

mood swings

I came into work this morning and had the urge to check my horoscope. Many of you know that I do not like to check my horoscope because I have the distinct feeling that it leads to behavior, rather than diagnosing it, but after my mood shifts this weekend, I am looking for answers wherever they may be lurking.

Monday, September 10, 2007
Your emotions have been on a roller coaster ride, although you may attempt to keep them on the ground. Your moods transform faster than you can integrate them now that the Moon is back in your sign. Don't try to restrict your feelings or prevent them from morphing into something new. Just enjoy the rapidly changing landscape as best you can.

This horoscope definitely hit the nail on the head. I've been trying not to have a screaming fit, and that has taken much effort. This morning I wasn't angry anymore, but that has since passed. I am definitely not "enjoying the rapidly changing landscape" of my moods.

The weekend started out alright. The man and I had dinner and hung out for a bit Friday night. Then it went to shit. I went in to work for seven or so hours on Saturday while the man was hanging out with friends. But, then the friends decided to leave for only an hour when I was making dinner and they came back after we had finished eating. Long story short, the man's friends were at the house so much, the longest lapse was ten hours (and that is when we were sleeping). They show up a minimum of five days out of every seven, and it got to the point where I was about ready to move out yesterday.

The only good thing about Sunday was that the Packers won. Hallelujah! Other than that, I was in a bitchy mood and if the man had bothered to ask why I was in a bitchy mood, he would have likely had his balls ripped through his throat. But, oh yeah, it is impossible to ask your girlfriend a question or pay any attention to her whatsoever when you are surrounded by friends 15 hours out of the fucking day.

The man didn't bother to come upstairs until long after I had gone to bed, and when he did he was in a shitty mood himself, so I didn't bother raising the issue. I'm going to hold out on starting a fight until after next weekend since the man's mother will be visiting from Oklahoma for a few days and I'd like to avoid any awkwardness if possible. Plus, I'm giving him a week to get his shit straightened out, grow a fucking backbone, and say no to his stupid friends when they call asking to come over.

Happy fucking Monday.

matchbox twenty

I'm glad that Rob Thomas has decided to forego another solo album for the time being and go back to recording with Matchbox Twenty again. The Rob Thomas I remember from Matchbox Twenty, the one I had a crush on throughout my late teenage years, the one with tousled hair and black eyeliner and a slight bit pudgier.

Their new album is due out October 2. But...it is only "kind of" new. There are six new tracks and eleven "smash hits." This disappoints me to say the least. What the hell, I probably already own all the "smash hits" and I've been waiting for a number of years for new music (and not the pop-ridden crap Rob Thomas is putting out as a solo artist, or the guitar solo cum revival of Santana thing either).

Nevertheless, I am anticipating their new album and am somewhat impressed by the first single. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the new tracks are reminiscent of their earlier music.

things i want for jesus' birthday

Since I was pretty shitty at determining what I wanted for my birthday (which led to the man deciding I had said I wanted a Wii, which is great, except that we're on a wait list because there isn't on in the whole damned county), I've decided to start a Christmas list. I've always thought it odd that we get presents because it is someone else's birthday...but oh well, here it is: (Thank you Jesus.)

• CD: The oh-my-god Matchbox Twenty is back! (will write post about this soon) new cd entitled Exile on Mainstream to be dropped October 2, 2007 - that is, if I can wait until Christmas and not buy one for myself
• Book: Petite Pattern Book - Dots & Stripes by Bnn
• Software: Adobe Photoshop CS2 (I've not heard good things about CS3, so I'd rather wait until they have worked out the kinks - and I don't think anyone would spend $650 on me)
• Personal Care: Philosophy Pure Grace Soap and Water Set (via amazon.com or at Sephora)
• Furniture: Table Mate II (as seen on TV, or available at amazon.com) - I need a good laptop table so I don't bake my legs while using my laptop on the sofa
• Office Supplies: Environmental Friendly Staple-less Stapler - Silver Color (available here)
• Gadgets: Tempo Time Tags (available here) - I'd like to have one to stick to my sleeve when I go for walks and one for my briefcase so I can nonchalantly check the time during meetings

That's all for now. Keep in mind that this post is more for my records than it is for your amusement. Sorry. It's my website, I can be selfish if I want.

e.r. revisited

The man had to take the roommate to the E.R. again last night. This time, unlike last time (supposed food poisoning), was completely of the roommate's own doing. He got into a fight at the bar last night and ended up with a fractured clavicle and a big gash above his eye (all of which were described to me by the man, I do not care to fraternize with people who spend their time brawling). The event begs a few questions:

1. What was the roommate doing at a bar on a Monday night?
2. Who would fight with the roommate, who is approx. 6'5" and 300 lbs.?
3. What idiotic thing did the roommate do that caused the fight (probably hit on someone's girlfriend)?
4. Why didn't the roommate have his friends drive him to the E.R.? They drove him and his car back to the house at 12:45 AM.
5. Why did the roommate assume that the man would be willing to drive his sorry ass to the E.R. at nearly 1:00 in the morning?

I do not care enough to ask these questions, but I think it quite humorous that the roommate (who bounced his rent check again) had enough money to go to the bars seven out of the last ten nights. Quite humorous in the way that you laugh because something is so preposterous that you don't know what other action would be warranted.

older, but perhaps not wiser

I'm old(er). I don't really feel any different, and I believe that is the cause of my woe. I'm beginning to realize that my age and physical attributes will continue to deteriorate despite how young I feel. I'll admit it...I am vain. The thought of 30 strikes me as horrendous and fills me with despair. I like being in my 20s. I'm somewhat accomplished for being in my 20s, for my 30s, not so much. One can only hope that the next few years bring more highlights than lowlights so that I can add to my vita of "damn, I'm good" things.

s'mores anyone?

I just found out that August 30 is National Toasted Marshmallow Day! I guess I share my birthday with a holiday after all. Move over Cameron Diaz (also an Aug. 30 birthday girl), I now have a new claim to birthday-sharing fame. You can find info on events happening on your birthday here.

work rally

Today I had the pleasant surprise of a mini-party hosted by my lovely coworkers. There was a cake (of course with orange frosting), flowers, and gifts. For as much as we are stressed at work, people always try to do something special to show appreciation. I'm truly lucky to have such thoughtful coworkers.

But, gosh, am I happy I won't have to see them for five days. I'm taking tomorrow and Friday off from work, and Monday is Labor Day so I will be out of the office that day as well. As much as I like my coworkers, it is nice to not have to see them because it means I'm not at work!

I actually may end up coming in for a few hours on Friday, but that would be at my leisure. As for you, Internet, I am also taking a vacation from you for the weekend and won't be so much as logging on for the next five days. Have a happy holiday weekend!

maladies #4: long row to hoe

Well, it is lunchtime and I am back from my hour-long physical therapy appointment. As it turns out, the chiropractor did not, in fact, realign my pelvis and my legs were not, as a result, the same length. I didn't feel a whole lot of difference, other than the throbbing lower back pain, after that chiro appointment. Oh, and the throbbing, that was cake. This new throbbing from the various workouts I will be required to do daily (amounting in over 7 hours per week), they cause throbbing...and stabbing..and pulsing...and steam to come out of my ears and random "holy fuck"s to come out of my mouth.

No, the physical therapist was only moderately attractive, in an a-sexual way. I was restrained, and other than a few sharp breaths and winces, I did not overtly indicate that my muscles were being torn from their joints.

So, other than the pain that doesn't allow me to stand fully upright, I received a myriad of strength-training exercises and for the cost of only $24, "the Original McKenzie SuperRoll Deluxe Lumbar Support" pillow-thing. Not only does this product tout being both "sleek and comfortable," it also promises to "decrease discomfort of prolonged sitting." If it could decrease the discomfort of living and breathing and moving associated with today's session, I would marry it and bear its offspring...but no, it doesn't do that. Said "SuperRoll," as I like to call it, is to be used whenever I'm sitting for more than an hour. This would mean, all day at work, in the car, and when doing work at home. In other words, I might as well sew the damned thing to my back and have a grotesque hump of foam protruding from under my shirt, that is how tight we'll end up being.

I must say that I am more optimistic after this last appointment than I have been in a long time. And even though I see my therapist as a completely a-sexual fountain of healing, I do like him and he seems to genuinely want to help, which is a welcomed change from feeling like a medical experiment or another procedure to add to a medical resume. This is particularly good because I'll be seeing him on a weekly basis for what is looking to be an indefinite amount of time (as I progress, we may be able to cut down the appointments).

Alas, I do have a plan for at least 1.5 hours of my birthday: stretches twice a day and strength-training for my core "to fatigue." Woohoo dilly!

maladies #3: happy birthday?

I'll turn 26 in two days. I'm not going to lie and say that "age is just a number," though I do believe that in the case of my relationship with the man (who is eleven years my senior). Age is more than a number when you make the jump from early twenties to mid twenties and are knocking on the door of late twenties. Ah, yes, you think I'll be having a hard time of it when the thirties, forties, and fifties hit me, but I am still young enough to get away with a lack of foresight so pishaw on you.

As for an update on the hips...today I go to my first PT session this morning. Oh yippee. I'm not enthused, but am hoping that I will be able to get some sort of motivation from this first meeting. If nothing else, I hope that there is a positive spin (even if it is just getting more toned and has nothing to do with the pain subsiding, or if the physical trainer is hot - I am trying to lower the cynicism for the time being).

The unfortunate part of it, referring back to the age stuff, is that I woke up feeling like an octogenarian who had been mugged in an alley the night before. The weather changes are wreaking much havoc on the musculoskeletal system and I'm stiff and sore and ornery to boot. Oh, please let the physical trainer be good looking enough to help me to disarm the expletives that are bound to try to fly out of my mouth.

requiem for a dream

I realized this morning that I am not losing my mind. If you had asked me yesterday, I would have said I’d gone crazy, crazy cocoa puffs. I have dreamt of engagement/impending matrimony three nights in a row. I was worried that it might be my subconscious trying to tell me something, something that I should be hoping for, since I couldn’t quite figure out what else would have spurred on such a dream.

One of my thoughts about the impetus for the dreams was the man’s behavior as of late. He has been acting rather affectionate by normal standards. This is not to say that he normally is lacking in that department, but the past two weeks he has been more affectionate than normal, touting me as “the best girlfriend ever” to friends and coworkers.

So, in my dream world, I have been dreaming of becoming affianced. The man is rarely in my dreams in the physical sense, and sometimes I am looking in at someone I believe to be myself (and sometimes Sandra Bullock) so who the hell knows what that means. My upcoming birthday was another event I suspected as leading to the dreams. Both of which led me to think that I might really, deep down be hoping for a proposal, which is not at all like what my awake mind manifests as near-future milestones.

But, today, it was brought to my attention a reason that would have me thinking wedding bells that has nothing to do with either me or the man. Yay! My coworker friend is pressing her boyfriend for a ring/commitment. We’ve had lengthy discussions about this. I don’t know why I didn’t think about this before? Maybe because I’m selfish…maybe because I’m forgetful. But, either way, I’m out of the hot seat and am free to go on being merry and not thinking about being tied down or questioning my sanity in terms of up and deciding to follow societal norms of marriage. Whew…what a relief.

PS: This is not to say that I would never want to be married - but I don't think I (or we) have reached that point as of yet.

reasons why i'd rather be sleeping

• Technically, I'd already put in my hours for the week by Thursday afternoon, yet I'll be at work all day today.
• It has rained consistently for the past two weeks.
• I haven't been sleeping because the dog hates thunderstorms.
• I went out with coworkers for happy hour last night.
• On my way home from happy hour I had to swing past the ER to pick up the roommate who claimed to have food poisoning, but left shortly upon our return home to get McDonald's.
• I have taken on a couple side projects so have been working outside of real job.
• I went to see Becoming Jane on Wednesday night and have decided that there is a large chance that I'll die an unloved spinster at age 41.
• I'm tired.

proposal

Well, the man and I are set to reach another milestone. I have officially proposed that the man celebrate Christmas Day with my family up north. We have fashioned a plan to attend his grandma's Christmas Eve festivities and then head four hours north in the morning to spend the next few days drinking and being merry (just like Jesus would want). I'm glad that he has agreed to join me (and I have attended numerous events with his families) but I have never brought a significant other to a Christmas before so I'm concerned with the consequences. The only unmarried significant other to ever attend a Christmas had knocked up my cousin and they are now married.

Thus, the man's attendance may open the topic of matrimony to some of my nosier aunts and uncles. These relatives, the "inquisitive" ones, are the ones who don't know me well enough to realize that the answer is "none of your damn business, I'm happy living sinfully." The aunts and uncles who I do like know me well enough to realize that the likelihood that I'll be getting married anytime soon is as likely as Guam successfully overthrowing the US government.

I'm the sixth of nearly twenty grandchildren on my mom's side of the family. Of the six older than me, all but one are married. There are a couple younger than I who are already wed or affianced. As I said, I'm number six, and number five is my buffer. He doesn't appear to be settling down anytime soon, so as long as he decides to dodge the bullets, I too will be safe from impending wedlock. I don't look forward to the stigma of being that niece, the one who isn't married...you know, the twenty-something spinster. Not that I would consider getting legally coupled to avoid familial scrutiny as they've always considered me to be a little too alternatively minded for their tastes.

But, luckily, the couple of relatives who pry with their questions also depart early from the gathering and we may not have to put up with them at all if we strategically time our arrival.

I do realize that Jesus' birthday is many months away, but family is already asking whether or not I'll be in attendance and I have to give notice that I'll be attending +1 this year. Of course, given our track record, the plans may not work out, in which case I'd have to answer for why the man doesn't attend with me. I guess I'll be bombarded with questions either way, thank God the punch is spiked and there will be copious amounts of Brandy slush.

countdown

My birthday is less than two weeks away. Yesterday, the man asked me what I wanted. To be honest, it is difficult to tell the man what I want, but I should give him some sort of suggestion because I've been told by my closest friends that I am difficult to shop for. I really don't know what I would want for my birthday.

I'm hesitant to give the man any sort of guidelines because in the past few years we've been dating, something horribly wrong has happened to affect each and every plan we've made to do something special or even remotely special. He is a man, however, and left to his own devices may get me something that he heard me mention (but couldn't remember if it was because I liked it or disliked it so decided to throw caution to the wind). This is the man who wrapped a cheeseburger in gift wrap on my last birthday (at least he told me to open that one first and it was still fresh) because I do love cheeseburgers. But, when it comes down to it, wrapping perishable food is a bit odd.

Still, I think I will throw a couple nonthreatening ideas his way and hope for the best. Other than the food thing last year, he didn't do half bad.

work and work

I've decided, in an effort to subsist on more than a shoestring, to take on a couple side projects outside of work. I'll be beginning by doing a research project for a former colleague. The project shouldn't take me more than a week and a couple weekends, but will allow me to perhaps replenish my meager bank account a bit (there are a lot of birthdays in August!) and finance a couple tanks of gasoline.

My thesisn't is also time consuming and I'll be taking yet another brief hiatus from said thesisn't in order to do the other research project. Perhaps this new project will help me to focus my own work. One can only hope.

In other words, my time just became as tightly stretched as my dollars.

sparkle and fade

You (the rare few who actually read this blog) may have noticed that I've been changing my mastheads a lot lately. I've decided that I'll be using the current theme as my standard template - deviating from this only when a particular event occurs that requires a segue from my banner.

This design is called "sparkle and fade" and I like it because it is both dark and colorful at the same time. Also, the background behind the title reminds me of stadium lights that need to be replaced and the title reminds me of sparklers at the 4th of July.

I'll still be debuting new mastheads at www.iamtrish.blogspot.com, but I'll only update the look of this site every once in a while, returning to this template in the interim periods.

A lot has been going on lately, I'll be more explicit in the upcoming week.

maladies #2: hello humanity

Note: Throbbing is not good. I don't read "romance" novels (a.k.a. smut), but I have seen enough copy to know that they often cite a "throbbing" member as being a good thing. From what I can tell of male anatomy, if a part so cherished by its owner felt like my lower back is feeling right now (throbbing), the owner would never, ever, ever want to participate in any activity that would cause such a response.

So, my chiropractic appointment went well, if by well you mean that much pain was derived from a fifteen minute session with the promise of future sessions yet to come. My numb lower back is now awake with sensations of two years of pent-up irritation. But, [good news]: I can feel. This reminds me of a line an ex-boyfriend once used when I broke up with him "At least I know I'm human because I can feel, I can feel my broken heart." Is it wrong of me to mock this? Nah. But, hey, at least I know I'm human.

Also, drum roll please...........my legs are once again the same length! Woo hoo dilly.

maladies #1: second opinion and realizations

I went to see a new doctor last week because I have continued to have problems with my hips since a series of three surgeries conducted over three years (2002-2005) to correct a disorder termed coxa saltans (a.k.a. snapping hip). Due to the rarity of the syndrome, there is no specified effective treatment method.

My previous doctor (an orthopaedic surgeon) was great, but given his profession and my lack of response to "conservative treatments," he opted with the surgical route. He told me to do stretches and yoga in an effort to continue my recovery. Well, that was apparently wrong and those courses of action have made things worse. I don't exhibit symptoms of the original problem (at least not to such a noticeable degree), but there is a myriad of other problems that have sprung up.

My pelvis is out of alignment, causing one of my legs to be longer than the other. Oh happy day. It is a surprising realization to know that your previously symmetrical legs have become lopsided. I am now paranoid that I have been slowly transitioning toward some sort of gangsta walk for the past two years but that everyone has been too nice to tell me. Wait...let me rephrase that...too nice or that they enjoy mocking me behind my back too much to tell me that I've been walking with a Quasimodo limp and a gangsta lean. Anyway, tomorrow afternoon's chiropractic appointment should correct that ailment.

My new doctor has prescribed physical therapy to include "aggressive adductor, glute, and abdominal strengthening" to try to keep my bones in place and to tighten muscles in an attempt to keep them from snapping willy-nilly wherever the fuck they want. The soonest I can get in for that treatment is the end of August. Until then I have been given a list of activities of which I am to avoid. Pretty much the only thing not on the list is walking. Yay for walking! I'll keep you posted.

brush with creativity

I would like to share a link to some amazing Photoshop brushes, which I use when I update my mastheads. Go to http://www.designfruit.com/ to nab them for yourselves.

I recently used them on a friend's banner at http://www.smalltownme.blogspot.com/. While you're there, check out her posts (she's well worth the read).

For the rest of my headings (of which there are a couple that I don't like to claim), go to http://www.iamtrish.blogspot.com/. There are a few there that have yet to make an appearance on this site, so you're getting a sneak preview.

charitable summer

Today I awoke to the man angrily sifting through our closets. Apparently, he has "misplaced" his social security card, which he needs to submit to his new employers. This requirement angers the man because as a US citizen, why should he have to submit to having his social security card copied and kept on file? Shouldn't his selective service card work in it's place? What different does one scrap of paper make to the system?

I don't really see that this would be any kind of inconvenience on a normal day, a day when the man wasn't throwing a fit because he "can't find anything in this damn house." To be honest, the man's filing system consists of Rubbermaid totes and an old Five Star binder. This leaves something to be desired. What is desired is knowing where the hell his social security card is so I don't have to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to a feisty man frantically searching for his social security card like a squirrel strung out on crack looking for the last acorn he planted before winter.

This search is prompting the man to do some reorganizing. I LOVE reorganizing. I like putting things into boxes, armed with my label maker and a tote full of file folders. The man is also going through all of his clothes and will be tossing or donating the things he does not wear (which consists of 85% of his wardrobe). I, too, will be getting rid of my unloved clothing. I can still wear the same clothes I wore in the eighth grade so I have held on to a number of pieces that I wouldn't dream of putting on my body for the simple reason that "they still fit and you never know when you might need a glow-in-the-dark alien t-shirt that reads Take me to Your Band Leader (which I received as a gift from an aunt when I was twelve)."

So, as you may have guessed, I will be spending the weekend going through boxes. I've never completely moved into the house because the roommate and the man already filled the house with their belongings prior to my arrival. I have a number of totes filled with random junk still sitting in my old bedroom at my parents' house. I've already purged a number of crates, but there are still many left to be sifted through. My goal for the weekend is to create a more functional space in the office where I can actually work. The hope is that we will also be donating some of the furniture we have been "gifted" from Nick's well-meaning grandparents. I may be including a pictorial for your viewing pleasure.

realizations

I visited my parents two weekends ago and found a cd holder containing all the cds I used to listen to the "first time the man and I dated," which was in winter/spring/summer 2002. I was working for my parents' business and listened to cds from the moment I woke up until I went to sleep. I listened to the same cds in the car and on the four-hour commutes to visit the man. Let's just say that I annoyed anyone who happened to be in my presence because they were required to listen to my rotation of music. I had to burn an additional copy of each disc so that I could have one in the car and one for at home/work. Back to the found cds - they were the copies that I had buried in a drawer at the end of the summer when the man and I parted ways.

I must admit that I was the one who decided to, in a complete act of cowardice, end things by cutting off all contact. This wasn't too difficult because we lived in different states and I was starting my senior year of college. I had been in 20-year-old "love" with the man, but the timing was wrong and I was in many ways too immature to behave in a healthier way. I decided that a clean break was needed before some event occurred to take the decision out of my hands. Long story shorter, the "breakup" was very hard on me and I haven't listened to any of that music since then. Until now. Even though we've been dating again for somewhere between 2.5 and 3 years, I am only now able to stomach listening to the music that reminded me of the bad place I had been in at the end of that summer - and the subsequent mistake of the next relationship into which I leapt.

Back to the present. Now, in my new car, I have all six cds on rotation and listen to them daily without regret. I can now see that the man and I would never be in such a good place now if we hadn't split up then. I did a lot of growing up in the two years (nearly to the day) that we weren't in each other's lives and I can see that ending things was the most responsible decision I could've made. Perhaps by not acting like a civilized adult and discussing things with him then, I left an opening for us to begin speaking years later.

I'm happy to say hello again to the cd collection that I kept buried for nearly five years. This is my "new" summer 2007 playlist (previously titled "Summer '02"):

Atticus: Dragging the Lake (various artists)
Blink-182: Cheshire Cat
Blink-182: Buddha
Blink-182: Dude Ranch
Blink-182: Enema of State
Blink-182: Take off your Pants and Jacket

new office

I have a new office at work - an office with a large window TO THE OUTSIDE! Yes, that statement does require all caps. My previous, quite spacious office had two gigantic windows with a view to the inside - a view to a community area surrounded by other offices. Oh, but I could see outside windows from my huge office, just past the cubicles ten yards away, if I stood just right and contorted myself into a crookedy position. I didn't do this quite often because I was caught once by a passerby who probably thought I was either having a seizure or practicing office calisthenics. There were blinds on those two windows (that I suppose were installed to maintain the illusion of privacy), but if you have windows to the inside people expect that you allow them to view unobstructed into your work area. But now, in my smaller office with a view of the parking lot and landscaping, I can shut out the stares of the nosy nellies.

You perverts out there (you know who you are), you are probably thinking that I can look up porn on company time now that I don't have to worry about people snooping all up in my biz-nass. But, no, you degenerate freak...just because you like to peruse sites that tout big busty babes doesn't mean that the rest of us suck up company time that way. Also, I work for a religious institution where it is quite possible that I would be eternally damned if I were to misuse work hours in such a way and I don't think a few cheap thrills is worth an eternal dance with Beelzebub.

Anyway, today is my first day in my new office and thus far I have been extra productive. I actually think it is because my door is closed and people can't tell if I'm here. I've been so productive without the drop-in time sucks, in fact, that I am able to take a coffee break to e-mail in this post. What a thrill to actually be able to take a well-deserved break and to spend it toeing the line of prohibited computer usage by updating my blog. Oh, I'm a power hungry danger glutton now that I'm in my new digs. Mwah ha ha.

Note: for those of you who do not know this, I do not have Internet access at my home due to the unfortunate "dial up only" availability in my area. Thank you coffee shops and your wireless service. I am a usual patron of th Muddy Moose coffee shop and their Internet connectivity.

updates

As of today, Monday, July 16, 2007, the following things have not happened:

• the sky has not fallen
• the roommate has not moved out, nor is he planning to
• my office has not become fully-staffed
• the mystery plant I transplanted has not shown its identity
• I have not completed my thesis
• Cat Named Jack has not grown out of the "kitten stage"
• Cat Named Jack and Jammer have not become friends
• Orpheus (my beta fish) has not died
• the man and I have not taken a real vacation, or even a fake one
• I have not convinced my friend Kristen to move back to WI
• I have not won the lottery
• I have not gotten rid of the furniture that we have been "gifted"
• birds have not stopped shitting on my car on a daily basis
• I have not been back to MN
• I have not been promoted
• much to the dismay of my family, I am neither engaged nor married
• I have not been struck by even the smallest desire to produce offspring
• I have not partied like it was '99 since it was '99

err on the side of calling your roommate an asshole?

The house is now a place of discord and overwhelming tension. Apparently, the man has finally had enough of the lazy fatbody lying on the couch day after day after day. For months we've viewed the fatbody roommate not as an equal in terms of household actions, but rather as our mentally handicapped, 6'5", 300 lb. child. We would clean up after him, walk around turning off lights and appliances behind him, and deal with his annoying ramblings about how he "could have been a member of the "genius club" had his IQ been 10 points higher." Oh yes, he has said that. I'm not sure how an online Tickle IQ test could get you into a genius club, or if said genius club even exists, but I can tell you that hearing those words come out of the mouth of a guy who may or may not have even graduated from high school is quite a trip.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. The man blew up at the lazy fatbody roommate Monday night. The verbal beating began just in time to keep me from watching Big Love, which was quite irritating. I'm not condoning the man's behavior because I don't believe much productivity can come about from a verbal assault on a man with ten times less mental capacity for rational thought. The man didn't mince words in telling fatbody that he should move out. As of yet, two days later, no sign of moving has been exhibited and the man has been completely ignoring fatbody's existence.

As you can probably glean from my post regarding my new vehicle, I have a car payment in addition to my other bills. Now is not the time for us to be going halfsies on all bills, or rather, now is not the time for me to be upping my allotted bill-paying budget. Yes, we will probably be saving a lot of money for natural gas and electricity, but will it be enough that I can still afford HBO, or satellite tv at all? Now that I've become spoiled with my extended cable package, I don't know if I can go back to network channels only.

Only time will tell if the roommate actually takes the not-so-subtle hint and decides to move out. Until then I will wish that I had grown up in a less civilized family that was full of tension and yelling...perhaps if I had not been spoiled with a happy upbringing I would have the basic skill set to handle the yelling and tension and not behave like a frightened child hiding in a closet waiting for her parents to quit fighting. No, I didn't hide in a closet, but I did call my friend Pam to keep her apprised of the situation in case the roommate got his fat ass off the couch and decided to kill us in our sleep.

brush that mayo off your shoulder

I went to Summerfest in Milwaukee this past Saturday to see a few bands with my best friend from high school (Pam) and two of her siblings. We saw Live, Papa Roach, and Guster. Papa Roach was great, Guster was not. I'm not saying that I don't like Guster, but I am saying that if you are going to see a live show outside in the summer, you probably don't want to listen to music that makes you want to do any of the following (all of which listening to a few songs by Guster made me want to do):

• huddle in the fetal position while sobbing and rocking back and forth because of the pain...oh the pain of being a little emo person alone in the big, bad world
• become a cutter (though all I had was a cheap, plastic beer cup and my car keys, neither of which is a good cutting instrument) because of all the sadness of past relationships gone sour and the knowledge that despite anything we do, we all die alone...alone without a friend, and all we will have is depressing music reminding us that we all suck
• wail because I can't even become a cutter...because of the lack of sharp objects in this big, bad cruel world

After leaving Pam's brother at Guster, we went to Live and Papa Roach. Both were good, but Papa Roach was much better.

I became hungry and I ate half of a sub, all while balancing two beers in one hand. Somehow I managed to get mayo all over my shoulder. Yes, that takes talent. When you don't even realize that you have globs of mayo on your bare shoulder, that should probably be a sign that you don't need to drink the two beers you have precariously perched in one hand. But, you can't be a waster in a society such as ours. If I learned anything from listening to Guster, it is that the apocalypse is bound to come at any moment, and if it is going to happen, I'd prefer to be completely drunk at the end, so I drank those two beers despite already being plastered.

Oh, and you know you have a good friend when they are willing to wipe mayo off your shoulder all the while mocking you for being a cheap, sloppy, mayo-drenched drunk. Thanks!

i made a baby

Okay, so maybe not a human baby...and maybe I didn't make it...but it is mine and it is my baby. Welcome Fifi into the world: Fifi was born in 2006, but I only adopted her yesterday. She is Liquid Gray Clearcoat Metallic (as you can see from the above photo). Isn't she pretty! She wasn't cheap, but adoptions never are these days. At least I didn't have to travel overseas to do it though.

Fifi is 168.5 inches long and weighs 2632 lbs. She's a little younger than I was looking for, and she comes equipped with a number of fancy extras, which I didn't need...but come on, it's not her fault that she's pretty.

Anyway, welcome to the family!

end of an era

It's done. I've done gone and sold my car. It was a very nerve-wracking experience. I would liken it to selling an annoying cousin - you care about the person, despite their quirks, but you sell them anyway and suffer some trace amount of remorse later. I know it had to be done in order for me to be able to afford a new(er) car, but I'm suffering from separation anxiety anyway.

For the interim before I can afford said new(er) car, I will be driving my parent's spare vehicle (late 90s Buick Lesabre). It's a bit larger than my Neon, but it will get me from point A to point B, so I can't complain. However, I do feel like I've aged fifty years every time I get behind the wheel and complaining is one of the tendencies of the octogenarian set, so perhaps I should be complaining...perhaps it is a prerequisite for driving a Buick...

sweaty non-balls and perverted truckers

Things I would like to do at work today, but can’t because I’m too busy and don’t want to get fired:

• Not work
• Not work while sitting outside pretending to work
• Drive my car to the shady spot at the edge of the parking lot and take a nap in the back seat
• Get the blanket and pillow out of my car and sleep in an empty office while pretending to be at a meeting
• Use “spring fever” as a reason for taking sick time

Reasons why "going home" didn't make the list:

• My commute has gone from the standard 20 minutes to over 45 minutes due either to road construction or the "back way" I am forced to take as a result of road construction
• If taking the route with construction, being forced to drive less than 5 mph in a car without working air conditioning
• Truck drivers are perverts. When wearing skirt and tank top (both of which were less revealing when worn at full length in office setting) in an effort to not sweat off the balls I don't have, truck drivers feel the need to honk and rev engines to let you know that they appreciate your lady parts (despite the fact that they are completely covered by clothing)

neon, neon, who knows how long, how long, how long she can go before she burns away

The title of this blog is from "Neon" by John Mayer...and I can answer the question, because I know the answer. 160,000 miles. That is how long my car will go before she burns away, at least how far she will go with me, because I'm putting her up for sale. Why, you ask? Did I mention that she has nearly 160,000 miles on her?

I'm much more saddened by this than I thought I would be. Don't get me wrong, the prospect of a "new"-er car is great but I have had a lot of memories with my Neon. The old girl, she just ain't what she used to be and it's time for a change. If I sell her before I can afford a replacement, I will be driving my parents' spare car for the interim. The very short interim, I hope, as their extra vehicle is a huge Buick (that screams old person, or rather has a raspy whisper of old person because old people don't scream as much as young people, or so I assume). It's a nice car and it has air conditioning and cruise control, two extras that my Neon decided were too much work to maintain and did away with years ago.

She's not going for a lot of money, but she still has some good miles left in her. I hope her new owner treats her well and that she sees some action before being put out to pasture.

reap what you sow

Garden items the man wants to plant:

• 100-pound pumpkins (who the hell knows what we'll do with these, but I've been informed that "they look cool" and that that is reason enough)
• popcorn (I don't know how to make popcorn that isn't prepackaged with buttery goodness in a microwave-safe bag)
• tomatoes (which the man will not eat)
• peas (another vegetable that the man will not eat)
• green beans

I've been told that the tomatoes and peas are "for me." I'm all about having a garden, but all I can see is a butt load of vegetables that the man won't eat and 100-pound pumpkins with their guts smashed out lying all over the yard after Halloween. Because, come on, what do you do with 100-pound pumpkins if you don't smash them?

downtown boots

The man's mom and stepdad stayed with us for the past week. They left yesterday. As much as I like them and it was nice to spend time with them, I was not accustomed to having to share my living space with anyone but the man and the two quadrupeds. Our "refuge"/den/space away from the remaining roommate was set up as a guest room so that they could take advantage of all the amenities we usually take advantage of (the TV w/ HBO, and the space away from the remaining roommate). I am oh-so-gleefully-ecstatic that we have the second floor to ourselves again that I spent much of the afternoon walking around the upstairs sans clothing. I think the cat was also taking a cue from my behavior as he was taking the opportunity to share in the exhibitionism. Cat Named Jack was extremely content to run around the open rooms again and lie flat on his back to expose where his balls would be if they hadn't been removed. Oh yes, he's a gentleman. He only assumes that position when he is comfortable with his surroundings, which means that he only does that when the man and/or I am around to make sure no beings get all up in his shit.

I am sad to see the man's parents go because the man is always more at ease when they are around. Unfortunately, they live in Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain, so we don't get to see them more than twice each year. While the family dynamic is drastically different than my own, I enjoy seeing where the man "came from" and his mom and stepdad are really cool people. It's always a pleasure to be around people who won't get up in arms over a few scattered obscenities. When you can call out your boyfriend ,in front of his mom, for being a dick, you know you are around good people. Oh, and they try to win Jack's affection by buying him gifts. This has yet to work, but at least they try. Jack only hissed at them three times during their stay.

Oh, I neglected to mention that they bought the man a pair of cowboy boots. I am not overly-excited about this as I have always had a certain distaste for boots of the cowboy variety. The man is not a cowboy boot type of person, or so I thought. I also neglected to mention that the man wanted a pair of cowboy boots. Nice boots, he said. Downtown boots, he said. What the hell are downtown boots? For those of you who do not know (among whose ranks I also fell until yesterday), anything with the adjective downtown means "nice" or "to be worn for going out." Cowboy boots to be worn for going out...I am not entirely enthused or convinced that this is a desirable turn of events. I will be interested to see how long it takes for me to get the man to join me in walking around upstairs in nothing but underwear - but he will have to wear his downtown boots. Fancy.

sidekick

For some reason I've had marriage on the brain lately. I am still on the fence when it comes to whether or not I see the merit in it. I think I would like the idea of it being an end to any concern of infidelity, but that is not necessarily a guarantee (obviously), and I am not very concerned with that anyway.

I may be thinking about matrimony more because of my trip to Detroit for my nephew's baptism last weekend. My grandma is not too keen on me living in sin with the man. I had decided before I left for the trip that I would not limit my speaking of the man or our house to ward off any discomfort. Instead, I spoke of him no more or less than I ever do. And since I don't have much of a social life outside of work and the man, I had a healthy dose of man tidbits to share. Oh yes, I just said "man tidbits" in a non-dirty way. I was not sitting around revealing any jungle gym sex comments to my grandma. She seems to have resolved herself to silence in regard to her disapproval. I'm okay with the festering judgment as long as it stays festering.

In recounting stories of the man and myself I came to the conclusion that there should be a term between boyfriend and husband. As I have indicated that marriage may not be an option for me, fiance is not a suitable alternative. I wish there was some other term than "partner" that applied to happily unmarrieds. I think partner sounds too cowboy-ish. But wait, I think I may take the Western theme even further and go with sidekick. Of course, this should only be applied to the man, as I am obviously the alpha of the relationship (or so I like to believe).

I wonder how the man will like it the first time I introduce him as "my sidekick"? He dropped the girlfriend label as an introduction...it is only fair that I retaliate with his new title of sidekick in the same way. Oh yes, it will be done.

happy birthday, baby

Cat Named Jack is officially one year old this week. Next Mother's Day will mark the one year anniversary of the fateful day the man spied a tiny, dirty wad of kitten on the side of the road and the day that we added a ferocious dingo bobcat to the family.

Jack is no longer quite as vicious, but this side of him still manifests itself on occasion. Since the departure of the dickbag and his girlfriend (aka our former roommates), Jack has been freewheeling around the second floor of our house and has now adopted their old room (our den/refuge) as his room. Their departure and the addition of two rooms to his kingdom have made Jack a very content being.

The last few months have marked an increased appreciation of "nice" attention and he's become more of a cuddle ball and less of a bastard asshole intending to rip my flesh from my bones. I do believe in miracles.

pagan

My nephew (Broderick, a.k.a. Brady) now weighs the same amount as the Cat Named Jack. Of course I told my brother this, and, while he found it slightly amusing, I believe he also finds it annoying that I made a reference to the connection between an infant and a feline. I’m not saying that Jack is as important as a baby, but…wait…yes I am.

This may be one of the reasons that my brother and his wife had decided that I would be unfit to be Brady’s godmother. I am the one who asked my brother, before Brady’s birth, who the godparents would be. He threw out a couple options, myself not included. Upon hearing that I wasn’t a contender, I explained that I would have thought it odd had my sister-in-law chosen me to be in charge of their child’s spiritual wellbeing. My sister-in-law and I are quite different, as I may have mentioned previously. She finds me to be crude and most likely believes that I would be a bad influence. I don't feel that her reasoning has anything to do with spirituality, of which we have some common thoughts, but rather because my church attendance is limited to Christmas Eve and I live in sin and use naughty words quite regularly.

During a recent phone conversation I asked when the kid would be baptized, as he will soon be to big to fit in the baptismal font (although I don’t actually know how they do it, maybe they drop the kid in, or dangle him by his heel like Achilles’ mother did). They still don't have a date picked because they are waiting to see what would work for the godparents. Of course this begged the question of "who are the godparents?" This led to the most surprising statement of 2007 (ranking only slightly ahead of the roommates' decision to finally move out). He said “Bill and you,” meaning that his brother-in-law and I will be the chosen ones. Perplexed, I asked him to repeat. He said “Y-O-U. You.” Obviously, the lack of sleep due to new parenthood had thrust them into insanity, or the little one has already pissed off all likely candidates and they are scraping the bottom of the barrel. The former is more likely than the latter.

Bill, my godparent counterpart, is also without child. Perhaps they chose to spread the duties around so that those of us who are childless will not end up living in retirement homes with no one to visit us. Now, Brady will be guilted into visiting his godmother/aunt Trish, and I will call him Henry and pretend that I don't know who he is, just for my own amusement because I will be old and people will expect that I be senile.

Long story short, I’m the kid’s godmother. My brother confirmed that there isn’t much responsibility attached; since they already go to church each and every Sunday. Godmother is pretty much an arbitrary title that will only serve to justify the already copious amounts of gifts I bestow upon the baby. Plus, now I am able to add it to my business cards if the opportunity ever arises. And, if the kid grows up to be spectacular, which he likely will because we share genes, I can stake more claim to him. After all, his parents are just his parents, and I, the heathen that I am, am both aunt and godmother. Double bonus.

limerick

There once was a woman named Trish.
Dead roommates were her only wish.
Rather than them stopping breathing,
She's settling for them leaving
and that is something she will truly relish.

Well, I haven't posted about the horrors of home for fear that by some horribly slight chance, one of the worthless dickbag roommates (two of the three fall into this category, the other does not) would happen across this blog and miraculously learn to read something other than the back of a pack of Marlboro's and make my home life even more miserable than they had previously. By worthless dickbags, I mean the roommate and his live-in girlfriend who pretends not to live with us so that they can get by with paying very little rent and even fewer utilities (I can count the times they have actually chipped in for utilities on two fingers). Oh yeah, and they've lived there since the man moved in over two years ago - approximately 8 months before I moved in.

Their contributions to the household are as follows:
- occupying three parking spaces in the driveway (one of which is in the garage)
- occasional purchase of toilet paper
- leaving dirty dishes in the sink and refusing to wash said dishes
- smoking in their bedroom, despite the man's rule that smoking is not allowed in the house
- slamming doors at all hours of the day and night
- leaving trash in the upstairs hallway
- throwing cigarette butts off the balcony into the flowerbeds
- refusing to clean the bathroom (leaving me to clean up their nasty pubes, trust me...I know what I'm sporting and that those aren't my short and curlies or the man's)
- failure to operate an electric toothbrush without leaving the bathroom bespeckled with their likely herpes-stricken Colgate foam
- abuse of the Cat Named Jack to the point that he must remain in our bedroom and that he hisses whenever he hears one of them speak, despite the fact that he is on the other side of at least one wall
- leaving their rice cooker half-full of cooked rice...and then waiting until said rice grows fungus the color of a Gay Pride parade banner and then shrugging when asked why they haven't cleaned it
- doing a minimum of 13 loads of laundry per week, laundry that (when wet) smells like ten kinds of raunchy, putrid ass...and then leaving said laundry to occupy the washer and/or dryer for days at a time (and we are afraid to touch this laundry as no one in their right mind wants that stench to come into contact with one's flesh)
- fighting about everything and anything at the drop of a hat in the hallway, in the bedroom, on the balcony...wherever and yelling obscenities foul enough to make Andrew Dice Clay blush

I would continue, but I'm getting exhausted. And...ta da! They are finally moving out. It came to the point that I had decided to move out in the upcoming months if they weren't gone. I even went so for as to look at apartments for me and my feline and fish friends. Unfortunately, it went on so long because the roommate owed the man so much money, that he was afraid to kick him out as that would result in nonpayment of many, many monies.

But, like I said, it is finally over as they will be vacating the premises in the next month. They will not be replaced, which means the man and I are one step closer to living like adults. At least now we have more of a housemate than a roommate. To be honest, I think having one roommate is a good thing, not only fiscally: the man and I are both friends with the roommate and it is easier to cook for three than two (and he is a good cook).

Anyway, ding dong the dickbags are almost gone.

odd years are better anyway

I've never really been one for New Year's resolutions. I prefer to have goals, thereby, if I reach my goal before the year's end, it is successful. Resolutions seem too stern and not fun at all, at least in the ways that most people approach them. For example, most people who have asked me about my "resolutions" are giving up sugar/flour, dieting/losing weight, giving up alcohol. I don't think any of those things seem too reasonable. I don't agree with depriving oneself of happiness in an effort to become better - how is unhappy better? My goals are intended to help me become happier without having to go through any starvation or withdrawals.

Here are my goals for 2007:
- finish thesis, thus getting my MA degree posted
- begin fitness regimen to improve overall mood and well-being
- paint another room in the house
- take a vacation with the Man - a real life vacation that lasts more than one day and requires travel
- get rid of the degenerate dickbag and his girlfriend who live in our house (aka roommates)
- find stress-relieving activities and the time to perform them (aka getting rid of the dickbag and his girlfriend so I don't want to shoot myself and using their room as a peaceful non-dickbag sanctuary)

happy birthday, jesus!

I hope everyone has a happy holiday season. I'm visiting my parents (and the rest of my family, excluding my brother, his wife and the baby) for five days over the break. It is fabulous working for a place that gives you time off between the holidays! The Cat Named Jack will be staying home with the man and the other pets. As I have never been separated from him for so long, this will be interesting. I'm sure he will fare much better than I. It would be nice if the man were able to come home with me, but alas, he has his family Christmas on Christmas Eve, and as my family celebrates on Christmas Day, the four hour drive doesn't allow for both. Also, I have another Christmas on the 26th, as if the three I'll have had by then aren't enough. Oh well, I am not complaining.

May your days be merry and bright.

it (he) has arrived

Broderick Alexander

This is my nephew, Broderick. He is now 1 week old, being born 12/06/2006. I find this date to be quite wonderful for a birthdate as it is a mathematically logical number (12 - 6 = 6). He is my brother's child, and while I can say that I was skeptical that my brother would be equipped to "not kill the baby," let alone be a suitable parent, he seems to have been smitten by the baby and is adjusting quite well to fatherhood.

Broderick is a ginormous baby of 10 1/2 pounds and has already caused his parents much grief and worry as he had his stomach pumped at the ripe old age of 1 hour. Oh yeah, this kid is bound to be a drinker, he's already accustomed to the stomach pumping that is sometimes necessitated by binge drinking. In addition to the grief of having an infant undergo a procedure immediately upon entry to the world, the baby was slow to leave the womb and was actually reluctant to leave at all. The kid was meant to come out on November 30, but decided to stay inside for another week, just to torture his parents and to grow to gargantuan proportions. A rebel before birth, now that is one badass baby.

I must admit that he is cute, for a baby. His size brings him to be only a few pounds shy of what the Cat Named Jack weighs. However, I am sure that Broderick (aka "Brady") does not bite or claw at one's exposed skin when held, looked at, or thought about.

I am quite pleased that he seems to be taking after our side of the family - apparently, the baby has our nose (my brother and I do not share a nose, but rather have identical noses situated on our respective faces). Unfortunately, this is probably my least favorite feature of my face, but I think it looks better on him, if you can see it past his huge cheeks.

It is nice to see a baby that arrives into the world already cute and not looking like a tube sock with a face. I think this may be attributed to his gigantic size and his Cesarean birth (i.e., his face is not smashed or battered). The kid is a ginger (redhead), but his mother thinks that is a good thing. My dad is a also a ginger, so we knew it was a possibility. Yes, for a baby, he is quite elvish and cute.

Welcome to the world, little man!

open to the public (aka: i've now told friends about the blog)

Hey everybody, this is my blog. Today I have decided to actually tell my friends that it exists (other than Kristen, who already knew it existed, yet probably chose to ignore it). Welcome to my mundane life :)

camping

I have a busy week this week. Of course, on top of the new projects, being out sick last week from work left a shitstorm of work for me to deal with this week. I am feeling a bit better though.

I live in Wisconsin, granted, Southern Wisconsin is much better this time of year than Northern WI, where I hail from. However, it is still cold. And we are going camping as a work outing (female staff members) this weekend. It is going to be a good time, but cold. Cold as in 20 degrees cold. And by camping, I don't mean motor home camping, I mean sleep out in the elements tent camping. Luckily, the man bought me a really nice sleeping bag for my birthday (knowing that I would be needing it for this event). I believe the man is also going camping this weekend in an unrelated event. The man is rugged and doesn't leak body heat out of every pore as I do, so I am not as worried about him. Plus, it has been scientifically prove that men push heat out to their extremities (aka dumbsticks and arms/legs) while women keep heat in their core (in the off chance that they are carrying an alien baby in there). In other words, I will come home with no arms or legs, but the man will come home with his man parts and limbs in tact.

I will be the bringer of booze and S'mores for the nature outing. Also, if I am really feeling domestic, I may even cook something. This is highly unlikely, however.

My friend Kristen is going to be in town for a couple days toward the end of the week which will also be a good time. I am looking forward to it, but I don't know how my workload will be managed in the next 3 1/2 days. Only time will tell.

parenthood revisited

Alright, I know I write about the cat a lot - but the little shit is now 11 pounds and bites with the ferocious intensity of an jungle cat. The man has trained him to have no fear and he is impossible to punish. When one of us tries to swat him away from the havoc he his wreaking he swats back at us as though we are playing the fun swatting game. The spray bottle that used to offer us some degree of solice is now more of a dousing game for the little beast who roams the house dripping wet more often than he is dry as a result of his recent naughtiness. I blame it on my sick days: Jack had gotten used to me being home and is now acting out because I went back to work and disrupted his "bother mama all day" schedule.

Okay, perhaps he is not as evil as I am claiming. BUT, since he is STILL GROWING without any intent of ever stopping, he does more damage when he does the things we used to allow. E.g.: jumping on the leather furniture.

down with the sickness

Argh...I have never had headaches quite like this before. There is an evil virus spreading through the office and I have now become its host. Oh yes, it has me in its clutches and is draining the lifeblood from my illness-stricken body. I now feel like a walking corpse. Strike that, walking is an exaggeration; it is more like the scary, jerky walk used in horror flicks to simulate a zombie/apparition's movements. That is what I do. Every time I move, blink, breathe, or exist, my body and brain shriek in disapproval. I've been out sick since Monday afternoon (okay, that is a lie as I came in for three hours yesterday to prep my boss for a presentation). This is more sick time than I've taken off in the past seven years (yes, since high school...I'm a dork and don't take sick time, even when I was a student my dorkdom reined).

My thesis is suffering as well seeing as I have had the attention span of a lightning bolt for the past week. So much for deadlines.

Also, the people at the health clinic/hospital keep badgering me to come in for cholesterol tests (lipids tests) even though I am only 25 and don't feel that I should be concerned enough to pay the $25 copay required by my lovely HMO. I have just received the second request for me to come in for the test. The first letter (sent three months ago) was polite and simply a nice reminder that I need to have it done: "Please schedule an appointment for a lipids panel...." The second, which I just received yesterday, was more insistent and slightly bitchy: "Could you please schedule an appointment to get your cholesterol checked?" My answer: "Could you please pay my fucking copay and go to work for me for three hours so I can get the damned test taken that will tell me to stop eating my beloved cheeseburgers and nachos which will then cause my already illness-ridden body to implode from lack of flavor?" Oh yeah, and not to mention that I am supposed to fast for twelve hours before the test. I'm skinny and need my nutrients to keep from passing out or getting bitchy. Having to go back to the doctor twice in six months is already making me bitchy and I don't think they will want a malnourished bitch coming in to the clinic - see, by not going in I am actually doing them a favor. That's me: Trish the altruistic

backgrounds

I've revamped the site - (not that anyone really cares whether it is "fetching" or not). But I love the new background, both pictured below in this post and as the background for the site. Yay!