Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The "Dear John" Letter

Dear Blogger,

It has come the time to tell you that which it would be so painful for me to express. I pray that you will not find me too harsh, nor that you will think I am in any way un-grateful to you, but it has finally become necessary for me to leave you. Please believe me, it is nothing to do with you, or your actions towards me. You have always treated me with the greatest respect, and have yourself acted the perfect gentleman in every way. But you see, there is someone else. It pains me to tell you this, but it is true, I have found another. His name is WordPress, and I am in love with him. It's not that he's especially better than you, or even that he is so much more attractive a partner than you are. But, you see, he... does things for me. It shames me to admit it, but it's true, I have fallen victim to his voice, his fluid manner, the carress of his lips, the way he touches me when ------

Oh Christ, forget it! I'm moving to WordPress. Happy? You better be, because it took A LOT of work. (Considerably more work than it should have, since I'm so crap at computers, as I am being constantly reminded of these days.)

You can find me here.
Happy blogging bitches!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

The Big Blog Crush*

(*Damnit, does this mean I have to start referring to him as the BBC?)

There has recently been a rather shocking development in the land of The Weirdo (i.e. me)... one with so much inexplicable importance that it simply MUST be documented. This phenomenon, as it is now like to be called, is nothing other than a very big BLOG-CRUSH. That's right, you heard it here first... blog-crush mania is sweeping the nation (as well as all the other nations, I assume) and I have been unable to escape its steely grasp! Finally succumbing to the inevitable lure of a love that dare not speak its name (no, not that love, the other one... no, not that one either... Ah, forget it!) I have found myself imprisoned in the chaotic mess of my own head.... again.

But wait a minute, didn't you just have a fake relationship?! Like a second ago? Didn't it end badly?! Yes, yes I did... and it did. Basically yes to all three. But wait! This is different! And here's why:

1. I do not know the BBC in real life (Ack, terrible! Sorry, British Broadcasting Corp!) This means that,

a) I cannot make a total fool of myself by making inappropriate advances in inappropriate places (not that I ever did that, I swear)... I can however make inappropriate advances on Twitter... which I do, like, all the time. (No valley-girl jokes, please!)


b) There was never any real need to decide whether or not I should tell him... So, I "told him" right away. I mean really, what's going to happen? Worst case scenario - he's totally creeped-out and I simply stop Twittering. (Did that make anyone else think of the word "twitterpated"? No? No one has seen "Bambi"? Okay...)

2. The fact that all the flirting will lead to nothing is already well-established, because... well... he lives really far away! Also, the flirting has been relatively tame. Which means that,

a) We don't have any fake children... yet. (Fake children are disastrous for many reasons... but mainly I'm just glad not to have to carry around that fake diaper-bag anymore. God, that thing was monstrous!)


b) I feel absolutely no need to decipher between flirtatious texts (i.e. "Does this mean the usual makeup sex?", etc.) and the probability that he actually wants to go in the back room and make out. Wonderful.

I know what you're thinking,

Right, having a blog-crush is fine. But you're clearly insane. Do you realize there are other live humans right outside who you could actually... I don't know... have a conversation with?!

And yes, I do realize that...
I realize that I am cultivating an attraction which can only go to waste;

I realize that if, in reality, we ever did meet, the chances of us both being attracted to eachother are very slim (because really, human chemistry is so un-predicatble);

And I realize that yes, I am incredibly lazy and should probably attempt to meet more people who are more easily accessible... ones that say, live within the same state, or hey, even the same city!

I realize all these things, and yet, I can't help but like someone I barely even know, someone I've never actually met.

So what is my problem? Am I just so fed up with being rejected that even thinking about getting to know someone else is exhausting? I don't really think so...

But maybe, just like so many other girls with their romance-novels, or sappy movies, or... umm, Twilight anything... I simply wanted to experience something fictional for a while. To believe I was falling for someone who could be (nearly) perfect, if only for the reason that he did not exist in my real life. Maybe it is easier to fall in love with someone when you don't have all the facts... when you don't have to deal with/adore all their little idiosyncricies... when you don't have to learn to communicate with them in a way you can both understand... when they can't see you, and all your finer flaws. Maybe, just maybe, fake love is a viable way to exercise real passion... a passion that I quite honestly have no other outlet for.

But then, wouldn't it be nice to be able to kiss someone I could actually feel?

Kiss Me, I'm (Kind Of) Irish!

St. Patrick's day is a wonderful day, if only for the reason that it is one of those many holidays in which hoards of people get together to celebrate something with a meaning they don't quite understand. Even in this sleepy little town (read: small city in Northern CA), people will be seen wearing head-to-toe green and ungodly amounts of garish $3 beads, will drink unheard of amounts of green beer, and be altogether loud and obnoxious. Why? Because this is a holy day, and one must behave accordingly!

I can still remember the relative madness inspired by St. Patrick's day whilst in middle school (7th and 8th grades), even though (hopefully) the excitement really had nothing to do with drinking until near-death. In this case, it was just nice to have ANYTHING to celebrate... and of course, there were plenty of middle-schoolers who thrilled at the idea of making everything green... including their hair (looking back, the green-madness might've actually been kind of fun!) But the one thing that really bugged me about this particular holiday wasn't the obsessive re-wardrobing or the frenzy it inspired in my fellow class-mates (can I say fellow classmates if I'm not a fellow? Or if all my classmates weren't fellows?)... it was the fact that on this particular day it was suddenly "cool" to be Irish.

Now before I come off sounding like a hate all Irish people, you should know that this is very much not the case, my only real problem with the sudden fascination was that people who weren't Irish the day before suddenly became Irish on this one day. My most vivid memory of this insanity was when my then-best friend, being inspired by a sudden flurry of enthusiasm, proudly declared to all our friends (and, I'm assuming, anyone else who would listen) that she was "1% Irish." I mean really, 1%? That would be like if you went into a job interview and told the hiring manager you were 1% qualified for the job... it's just not going to happen! I feel bad though, because clearly, she just wanted to be kissed...

Sunday, March 15, 2009

I Heart Sundays

Sitting here with my cup of coffee (in a mug with a picture of mounties on it, how cool is that?), I am filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards my manager, who did not schedule me for work today!

For those of you "in the know", I did have work with The Coworker yesterday... and thankfully, I did not make a complete and utter fool of myself. (I'd already taken care of that little feat last Saturday!)

Everything was, in fact, pretty normal. He was charming, and smiling, and slightly antagonistic, as always. I was smart, and laughing (not constantly, obviously, as that would've been cause for concern... and immediate psychiatric attention), and as friendly as I reasonably could be without reminding either of us of the events which caused the other events (i.e. my un-requited confession, caused by excessive text-message flirting.) Things got a little awkward once or twice, when I mistakenly let things go quiet, and was sure we were both remembering that which we would've been ever-so-fortunate to forget.

Oh, and I was dying. I'd literally (not figuratively) had zero hours of sleep that night, and at one point I felt I was in serious danger of falling down and smashing my head against the hard-wood floor. Luckily I did not fall, and in fact was allowed to leave EARLY since there were an unnecessary number of employees in the store.

In the morning, the zero hours sleep had translated into giddy hyper-hysterics enhanced to the enth degree by Stevie Wonder and LOTS of coffee. In the afternoon, however, my giddiness disintegrated and was replaced by a sleepy, grey colored mood... which in turn inspired this poem which I wrote on the bus. And then I got REALLY serious, thought about my life in terms of what was missing (which I absolutely do not recommend, by the way,) and after getting home from listening to some very good/very sad music, wrote this "song" (is it a song if there's no music?)

And so today, a day in which I am responsible for nothing, I am doing nothing. Yay, nothing! Yay, laziness! Yay, life!

In other news, SNL is officially good again! So say I, so says everyone (I don't know.)

Stay tuned for my future (read: better) blog post, in which I blog about: my blog crush (!), Mr. Tilney (Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen), and the similarities between the two. (Preview: "they're both charming and
they're both fictional!")

That's right, you are now fictitious, consider it a compliment.

Saturday, March 14, 2009


Wretched and sleepless
Alone in illusions
Of every dream I've ever crafted
In my tiny little bed

Wondering if I do these things on purpose
So I can stay alone
Romance is best in fiction
So I'm told

So I will fictionalize everyone
And live in lands which swallow me
And leave me in illusions
Warm in my own dreams

Because no one wants to be loved anymore
Just worshipped and adored
Because love requires a kind of suicide
A self-sacrifice of sorts
Because I'm better off just on my own, on my own
Or so I'm told

Give me your hand,
I want to hold on
To someone who says they're real
To someone with a heart
That still beats
Still beats
And wishes for better things

And we could be happy
Pretending, forever, never-ending
Just pretending

Because no one wants to be loved anymore
Just worshipped and adored
Because love requires a kind of suicide
A self-sacrifice of sorts
Because I am better on my own, on my own
Or so I'm told

My Sunglasses Make the World Seem Grey

There is a sign in my town that's been there for a while; it reads, "Now Open: Lunch Buffet." It's blowing in the wind and a corner has fallen down.

There are two men walking side-by-side, dressed almost the same. The colors they wear are different, but the articles are twins.

He looked at me today, his eyes were wandering down. I didn't mind the compliment, but I resented it just the same.

The bus driver's talking politics. I wish that he would stop. he's pretending to understand socialism, I want to pop him one.

I've had many erotic fantasies whilst riding on the bus. Is it a metaphor for my life, or just an effect of the vibrations I felt?

I liked someone at a gaming store, I thought he liked me back. He said he wanted to "get in my panties" (gross), I messaged him something angry back.

I don't need someone who fulfills a list, just someone I like a lot. Maybe when I find this person, they will really want me back.

Or maybe I will just be riding this bus, forever moving between two points, losing sleep over someone I've never even met.

The Un-Awkward Silence

I know a few people who feel the need to keep conversation flowing at all times, and for whom silence is significantly unbearable.

I am not one of those people.

For me, being silent around someone only means that the need for speech has ceased. And that's a good thing, because (a lot of times) that means that you are comfortable enough around that person to let things go quiet.

However, sometimes silence can be unnerving... even for me. One of those times might very well be coming to me with undeniable force this weekend... or rather, tomorrow... which is really today. (Crap, 1:44am and my brain is still fully awake!)

Tomorrow I get to work with The Coworker for the first time since last weekend. Which is when I told him that I liked him. Bad idea. Now I am going to have to find some way to dance around the subject for three strait hours whilst feeling horribly awkward and more than a little embarrassed. That's a lot of dancing.

In reality, I'm really not as nervous about it as I was a few days ago. (Something about using an online flirtation to work through rejection issues.) But I am still a little worried.

For one thing, how much do I hate giant pink elephants that you're not allowed to talk about even though they are every second threatening to sit on your head? A lot. When an elephant is in the room, I like to be able to point it out, give it a name, and discuss the likelihood of it's making a stinking mess in the course of an hour. I do not like pretending it isn't there when we both know it is. However, as bringing it up might just make things even more awkward for the both of us, silence might be the only reasonable alternative.

And this kind of silence does not imply comfort.

Friday, March 13, 2009

Why We Suck... And Are Hilarious

Luis C.K. on Conan

In Which I Contemplate Becoming a Lonely Wanderer

I spent the better part of this morning scouring Expedia for affordable plane tickets. To anywhere.

And when I say "morning", I mean afternoon.
(The morning and I were not thrilled with each other today. We got up, looked at each other, and sighed apathetically. I went back to sleep and it didn't complain.)

I have always been fairly certain that the place where I live now is not the place where I should live forever, and rather enjoy the idea of living in several different places throughout the course of my life. That being said, I have cultivated many unattractive habits which keep me from living this dream, and trap me in a place of "learning to love what you have." (A worthwhile skill, yes, but in the end a bit of a cop-out.)

So far, I have been to a few places (Toronto, Switzerland, Amsterdam and Cairo.) However, I have always travelled with a group, never alone. And in reality, I don't want to travel alone. Although I am fairly awesome at being alone (if only because I find myself fascinating, and know what songs to play on my iPod in order to become instantly happy.) But for some reason, company (for me) is a must when exploring new lands.

Or so it seems.

Sure, having a travel-mate would be awesome... but certainly not necessary.
In fact, in the modern world, the benefits of a travel-mate can be acquired by other means. Non-human ones.

For example, if I need to:

1) Find my way (I'm horrible at directions) I could either
a) Ask a directionally-superior companion, or
b) Get a GPS

2) Comment on what I'm seeing?
a) Talk to said companion
b) Write in a journal (the old-school blog)

3) Defend myself from mythical creatures (or you know, predators)...
a) Hide behind companion, or
b) Pull out the mace

Yes, having someone to share the experience with would be fantastic, preferable even. But traveling alone? Still better than not travelling at all.

Now, if only I could kick that ugly shopping addiction...

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I attend a very important class at the local community college. This class, although severely underrated, never fails to benefit me in some way. Whether it be in improving my knowledge of myself, other people, or the world in general, I always come away from it knowing something I didn't know before.

This class.... is Aqua Aerobics. Seriously.

In fact, I learn so much through this class that it could be broken down into several subjects... such as:

Psychology 412: The Psychology of Mood-Lifting
A course exploring methods with which to instantly improve your mood without the aid of legal/illegal stimulants; How to feel like the hottest thing on the block in under 60 seconds.

Sociology 610: Age/Gender Co-mingling
A course study in the advantages of social interaction between those of differing ages and genders; Why older women and younger women should form bonds; Why men should be encouraged to become involved in activities which are traditionally "feminine."

Music Appreciation 250: Introduction to Music: The 80's
A course examination of popular music in the late 1970's through 1980's and its relevance to today. Dancing around like a fool is encouraged, as is genuine and apparent enthusiasm. Previous knowledge of music in general is not required.

Dance 301: Introduction to Movement
This course covers select dance moves from various different eras and styles of dance. Includes "how to make jumping up and down for a minute strait look sexy."

Fashion 121: Swimwear
An in-depth study of current trends in swimwear. Includes such topics as: The differences between "athletic" swimwear and "beach" swimwear; Why Victoria's Secret bathing suits are ALWAYS hotter; The inevitability of swimwear malfunctions; and "Why Ambles always looks so much happier in her bathing suit than she does in regular clothes."

What can I say? I love this class! And if you were there with me? You'd love it too.
Because happiness is infectious. And because, well, who doesn't love dancing to "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summers?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

A Letter To My Lovers

Dear $200 pair of pumps,

I want you. The way I feel when I look at you can only be described as pure, unadulterated lust. (You know you see me staring!) It's embarrassing, but I can't help it. I think of you and imagine how perfect we could be together, what I wouldn't do to have you! And yet I know, deep down, in my heart-of-hearts, that I must pass you by. In the end you would only hurt me, and what was once a joyous and wonderful relationship would turn into a black hole of resentment and despair.


Your not-so-secret admirer

Dear Starbucks' Grande Cappuccino,

How lovely you are to me! So exactly the opposite of everything I seem to stand for, you invite me in to a place of warm acceptance, and spoil me with affection. A little conservative, to be sure... and true, your corporate lifestyle is not to my taste. But the way you give me exactly what I want, when (and where) I want it, is enough to make me want to see you time and time again! Never too little, never too much, you are there when I need you, and gone when I don't. And did i mention how good you taste?


Your mid-morning come-and-go

Dear Blogger,

I simply cannot get enough of you. An endless source of wit and wisdom, you are all I need to make the day seem worthwhile. You are always introducing me to new ideas, people, and ways of looking at the world. What can I say? I'm obsessed. Does it hurt to admit it?

Forever yours,

The Weirdo

P.S. I may someday leave you for Wordpress. Don't hate me!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

One of "those" Girls

It is now Tuesday, and yet, for some reason I am STILL blogging about the weekend! Why? Because I can. Just go with it.

On Saturday, right after I was hopelessly rejected by The Coworker (don't worry, it's all good... no, really), I went with friend Suzy-Q to one of the more prominent gay clubs in town. Why a gay club, you may ask? I really don't know. (For what it's worth, they do have a room for the straight people... but it's kind of gross.)

Anyway, we finally got to the club with about an hour to spare (we like to come in late and make a scene... or we were just very late in leaving the house, as we were attempting to cut SQ's bangs in the bathroom before we left!) About two minutes in it became very clear that at least one of us was going to have to get a little drunk before any of this became fun. So off to the bar we went, ordering two of the girliest drinks known to man. Which, coincidentally, it turns out, contain very little alcohol. Go figure. (Luckily SQ is a light-weight in the purest sense, so she still had a bit of a buzz... although personally I think it was just a sugar rush.)

Heading to the straight room (which was crowded, smelly, and moderately violent) we finally heard a song we recognized and could dance to! It was all going pretty smoothly until a feral-haired girl with about five too many accidentally scratched me in the face and spilled her drink on both me and a friend of SQ's! Then a small fight broke out in the middle of the dance floor, which was a bit of a disaster zone to begin with. In the end though, everything got smoothed out and we ended the night by dancing to something pop-y and 80's-inspired in the main (read: gay) room.

After the club we promptly tripped outside and right into the path of two very talkative 40-year-olds. Normally I would have been thoroughly annoyed at being accosted by two men so obviously our senior, but these two were... different somehow. Talking to them was almost easier than talking to guys our own age, and even better was that there was a very decided lack of "smoothness" about them. (In fact one of them was like a cross between Greg Kinnear and Duckie from "Pretty in Pink," if you can imagine that!) Also, talking to the guy I was talking to was much more like talking than being hit on outside of a club. Even when we hugged goodbye, after being told to "move along" by security, there was no real grabbiness... just a nice firm hug (which I honestly needed after my night of crushed hopes.)

Okay, okay... I know what you're thinking, "They were gay! You half-wit!" But no, they were not. I may go months on end thinking that a guy I like might potentially like me back... but when it comes to gay or straight, I'm not that dense!

Monday, March 9, 2009

Losing it

I am at work. There is nothing to do. Someone please please tell me you can hear me screaming! And also tell me absolutely anything funny/interesting/in English to keep me from going completely insane!

The past few days have seen my return to the blogging world. It has also allowed me to realize that, when you leave said world and then suddenly reappear, some people may not still be there to greet you! So to all the people I have mercilessly abandoned in my time of non-blogging despair - I am sorry, and will do my best to comment on all your blogs as soon as I can!

In other news, Gossip Girl is FINALLY new tonight! (Isn't it?) And although I realize that to some of you this is hardly important (nay, that it will in fact cause you to roll your eyes and mutter something bordering on profane), to others, like me, it has been a long time coming. In the last days of our little GG drought, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, unknowingly muttering the names of Chuck and Blair over and over again like lost lovers. Where have they been? And who exactly was I meant to turn to in this time of need? Surely not to real people! In the end though, I must admit that the whole Chuck and Blair, will-they (have sex again, say "I love you", etc.) or-won't-they plot-line was getting a little tired. I sincerely hope they have had time enough to work out that little kink.

And then there is my life, which I have posted about to some extent over the course of the weekend. The weekend, however, has yet to be fully covered... so I might be getting to that over the next couple of days... or tonight, if I'm bored, which is likely.

For now though, I will have to attempt to find some form of work to do at work. Monday is such a bitch. (Just kidding, Monday. Please don't hurt me!)

P.S. I realize I have been using a great deal of italics lately. To the point of excess. And beyond. Is it getting to be a little much? Because even I'm starting to get annoyed.

Sunday, March 8, 2009


The truth will out.

Today I was very lazy. I had homework to do: Reading for history, sketching for art, etc. I had several un-finished books I could have read. I even had movie-rentals to watch, if I felt like doing something that didn't require too much mental exercise.

Instead, I spent all day... sleeping in, flirting with a fellow-blogger, and walking aimlessly around my neighborhood. And I blogged. But really, I did nothing. As a result, I felt nothing... well, almost nothing. And then something awful happened, I watched last Thursday's Ugly Betty. This show usually is not one to make me so depressed that I feel inclined to rip out my heart and throw it at the gates of hell (yes, hell is gated), but tonight it so was.

---Thursday's episode of Ugly Betty: in which, we the audience begin to discover what an amazing person this Matt character is, and witness the first kiss of Matt and Betty. It is a kiss in the Ugly Betty hand - innocent, sweet, free of sleezy pretense.---

If you're at all confused as to why this would bother me, please read my previous post. if you are too lazy/impatient to read said post, I can't/won't help you.

On the other hand, there is this explanation as well:

Not being one to settle for being in a relationship I don't really want, with someone I'm not really that into, I have led my entire life without the presence of a boyfriend. Booh-hoo, so sad, whatever. The point is that I'm lonely, and I'm not afraid to admit it, or at least I shouldn't be. I want to want someone. And I want that someone to want me back. When I get done doing whatever it is that I have to do in a day, I want to be able to joke around, talk to, and be with this person. I want to really know them, and I want them to really know me. And yes, I want to have amazing sex.

Lately I have been focused on the whole absence-of-sex thing as being my main problem. As in, perhaps if I was a little less frustrated I wouldn't have this nagging in my brain/heart/body. Being a non-slutty virgin who in all honesty will probably wait until marriage, though, has left me pretty powerless/unwilling to solve said frustration.

And then tonight I inevitably realized that the sex thing was very simply not it. Or, at least, not all of it.

But my God, the quick-fix just looks so damn appealing sometimes.

Woody Allen Changed My Life

A couple nights ago, I watched "Vicky Christina Barcelona" and, believe it or not, was inspired to make some much needed changes in my life. I don't know if it was the natural aesthetic of the movie, the freedom exercised by Christina (played by Scarlett Johansson) or the sheer, open insanity of Maria Elena (played by Penelope Cruz), but something just clicked. I knew I had to change my life, or risk never knowing what it could have been. I needed freedom. I needed freedom to live as I would, make mistakes, recover from them, be more and do more.

Freedom, as it happens, is a rather vague idea. Beautiful, but vague just the same. So rather than become a full time poet and attempt to explain said idea, I decided to break it down into three distinct "goals":

Goal #1: Spend less money.
Must realize value of "less is more," "quality over quantity," and "savings over monstrous credit card debt" (which, thank God, I have yet to really accumulate.)

Goal #2: Get a driver's license(!)
Yes, yes, I know - you don't have your driver's license yet?! No, I don't. Why not?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I don't know, Good God, stop yelling!

Goal #3: Tell the TRUTH.
This one was definitely inspired by the Penelope Cruz insanity, and also by the lovely Scarlett mistake-making (if you can call it that.) I realized that I simply was not being 100% honest with anyone (probably including myself, occasionally.) I needed to be able to be whatever I was going through, at any given time; to stop hiding behind a smile, a peal of laughter; to stop hiding, period.

So, yesterday I made three small but decisive steps in achieving each of these goals.

#1: I unsubscibed to all of my "Sale-mail": e-mails from stores updating me on new merchandise, reduced prices, etc. Less online-shopping means less buying of things I don't really need in the first place.


#2: I took not one, but two driving lessons from my Dad (who is, thankfully, a really good instructor.) I cut too many corners and almost hit a pedestrian (I kid) but the point is that I'm learning.


#3. I told The Coworker how I really felt. He said exactly what I thought he would... He thinks I'm "hot" but he "can't commit." I was perfectly fine until something minorly frustrating happened later that night, prompting me to go into the back room and cry over the thing that was actually upsetting me.


Or was it? I was getting so frustrated with him at the end, and something really did have to be done. It was as if I was bashing my head against a wall repeatedly and then getting mad at the wall for hurting my head. Then suddenly I realized that, "Hey, this wall is a person!" (Not un-similar to the reaction inspired by Snout, no doubt, as Helena and Demitri look on and scoff.) In the end I was simply getting nowhere by trying to "get over it" on my own. I needed the rejection. And honestly a few tears shed is but a small price to pay for my sanity.

So success all around!

And now I must bugger off (not really, though) and attempt to do some homework, damnit! Or maybe I will just stay here and catch up with my amazing bloggy friends.

P.S. Now I have successfully cut myself off from all the at-work flirting, you should be encouraged to hit on me as much as possible. I will return the favor, don't worry :)

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Don't Be Fooled

He's Just Not That Into You, In a Nutshell

Act 1: The Scenario
Alex and Gigi meet at the bar where he (Alex) works and she (Gigi) hopes to run into a man who never called (even though he said he would.) Alex, sensing Gigi's desperation, tells her flat out that if the guy she's stalking wanted to call her, he would. Thus, "he's just not that into you" is uttered for the first time in a movie which bears it's name.

Act 2: The Plot Thickens
Gigi, surprisingly relieved by the brutal, unsympathetic truth, begins asking Alex for advice on a regular basis. This leads to the two spending quite a lot of time together, whether on the phone or in person. One night, as Gigi sits at home watching "Some Kind of Wonderful," she is struck by the sudden realization that Alex is in love with her(!) or must be."There are all these signs!" She trills, in a much too familiar voice (to me).

Act 3: The Climax (without a "climax")

(This is where those who fear spoilers should skip ahead)

Gigi, convinced of Alex's love for her, stays late at a party he is hosting and proceeds to "throw her body at him." Confused and alarmed, Alex scolds Gigi, saying, "You take every little detail and throw it out of proportion!" (Or something to that effect. Seriously, I can't be expected to remember the exact line!) Nearly defeated, for once, Gigi tells him that "She'd rather be like that than be like him." According to her, Alex is even further from finding love than she is, because, hello, he has a serious problem with cynicism! The truth of her words is evident in Alex's responding "Shit, she's right" expression.

Act 4: The Resolution

Alex, taking extremely well to being yelled at by his friend, realizes he has fallen for Gigi. So he shows up at her apartment one night, confesses his love, and (when she simply will not shut up or stop "rejecting" him) kisses her and says something so predictably sweet that it would be absolutely nauseating if it weren't for Justin Long.

My Problem:

This would NEVER happen in real life! Usually, when a girl yells at a guy for not being in love with her, he does not proceed to then actually fall in love with her. To guys, as far as I can tell, such a speech would communicate far too many needs and make said girl look "high maintenance." I love Ginnifer Goodwin and especially Justin Long, but I can't believe this ending. I really can't.

For those of you wondering why the hell I am re-capping a movie that came out decades ago (or, more precisely, a month), my answer is this:

I am moving on! The crush on The Coworker still lives (I cannot lie), but it is dying more and more each day (Yay death! said the hopelessly jaded blogger.)
He is not interested in a relationship, I am. He may very well be attracted to me (Come on, he so is), but one heated affair in the back room at work is not going to satisfy my every want and need, but instead create a whole other set of needs that I will in turn expect him to fulfill. And he can't. And honestly, I don't think I'd want him to, not if it meant tricking him into giving me something (a relationship) that he never really wanted to give in the first place.

So, as of now, we are moving on, we are obsessing about Twilight, we are brainstorming ideas for possible script-writing projects, we are re-embracing singledom (and by "we" I of course mean me!)

And you know what? It feels kind of good.

P.S. I'm upgrading to a Justin Long.

Friday, February 27, 2009


For those of you who follow my blog, I realize there's a lot you're still in the proverbial dark about. Things like, say, my mad crush oh The Coworker (which is now less mad and more fun.) Yes, I've told you I have a crush, I've told you I think he's the hottest thing since french toast (sorry), I've even told you about my bordering-on-overtly-maternal need to make sure he's taken care of.... but there's still a lot I haven't told you.

For example, did I ever tell you that we have a (rather elaborate) running joke in which he is my fake husband? No? I didn't think so.

---- For the record, I did not come up with this joke, (he actually started it on his own after referring to "our kids" in a myspace chat,) nor have a ever (intentionally) brought up, made reference to, or in any other way initiated said joke ----

Tonight was not a night I was meant to be at work; however, a certain perpetually sick employee made it necessary for me to come in anyway. Let's just say I wasn't happy about it. Luckily for me, the term "work" was in very loose translation tonight, while the term "flirting" was much more adequately applied.

It all started when The Coworker and I were texting about a certain heavy box that he was supposed to take to the dumpster after closing. He was a little irritated at our manager for not letting him take it earlier, to which I responded by saying, "aww, don't be mad hooooney!" which in turn led to one of our many conversations in which neither of us knows what the other is talking about (apparently he didn't know that "hooooney" is just a really long way of saying "honey.") When I pointed this out, he responded by saying,

"Does this mean the usual makeup sex?"

Which sparked a rather long back-and-forth about what he was going to have to do to get me into bed (hire a babysitter, serenade me), why Viagra would not be necessary (I told him I was still as hot as ever), and the probability that I wouldn't kick him out of bed (even though he had clearly gone insane.)

The hypotheticals were very welcome for many reasons, one ultimately important one being that it kept me from being bored (a near impossible feat in Touristville.) But we must remember that this was all an elaborate joke - completely devoid of reality, not even remotely romantic, and (probably) never to be mentioned again.

But hey, it's nice to pretend. Even when your pretendings have you married off to a lazy SOB who thinks flexing his ass is going to impress you.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Victory Is Mine

I have been very, very bad. I have neglected my poor blog. And all of you. I would apologize, but it's honestly getting a little old.

Sooooo.... Instead I will tell you all about my awesome fake weekend. Mainly Tuesday, er yesterday. Jesus, I'm tired. Has it really only been a day since then? Anyway, on Tuesday, a very special person named A.C. Newman dropped by my town to play some very choice music. It was awesome. And choice. Did I mention I'm very tired? That would be for the very good reason that I hardly slept last night. And not because I didn't have the opportunity, but rather because I was too full of, um, adrenaline. (Right?)

This might be a good time to mention that The Coworker was among the people in to see the show last night. (Yes, you're starting to understand now, aren't you?) And no, "nothing happened," just to get that clear straight off. But then, even when nothing happens, some things do happen... Things like: my outfit being really hot (especially the shoes, although at the end of the night I could not feel my feet!); the car being far too small to fit all of us, leading to the all time record closeness of one crusher (me) and one crushee (him); a text after reaching home that informed me I had smelled nice (success!); and a lot, a lot of dancing around like a lunatic with Edie-girl (this probably did not score me any points with the serious-musician set, but I do not care!)

All in all, it was a pretty record night, and I was able to completely shirk off any residual feelings of needing him to like me, which felt amazing. Also, I was able to fully appreciate our (flirtatiously?) antagonistic way of relating to each other on the ride home, which was way more fun than I ever remembering it being... probably because I was only concerned with having fun and didn't care if I was annoying him (OMG, I won sooo many fake fights last night. Victory feels so so nice.)

And for those of you in the know, apparently my little "harsh" reaction to the Second-Saturday blow-off actually worked. Because really, I would never have know that A.C. Newman was playing if The Coworker hadn't invited me. Twice.

In all honesty, yes, I have gotten a little carried away since the (rather small) events of last night... fantasies/wonderings-about what it would be like if we were to be in a relationship (fun, but a bit of work really), and all that checking-of-the-phone-to-see-if-he's-sent-a-text thing that we should all be so keen to avoid. But in reality, I know nothing's changed. And that's okay, because I'm better than this. And thank God, I finally know it.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Where For Art Though, Duckie?

As women, we have been genetically programmed to seek out a mate with whom to breed a superior spawn. Or so they say. See, physical attributes, though appealing (at times) do very little to inform us of that one key thing - CHARACTER. Which is why, after careful consideration (I kid), I have decided to become more... wait for it... OPEN MINDED!!! (There's also a chance that a re-viewing of a certain iconic 80's movie has swayed my thinking. Let's just say I don't need a major appliance.)

Which brings me to.... My Obsession of the Week: Nerds!

Or should I say, Hollywood nerds?

Here are a few of my faves - - -

Nerds are amazing for many reasons, one of which is, they do not think they're cool (okay, some do... but for the sake of this blog we're going to pretend that isn't true), which means - less arrogance over all - which, let's face it, is a rare commodity.

Also, they will LUUUUV you! Traditionally speaking, when a nerd falls, he falls hard! No more guessing whether or not the guy likes you... if the guy in question is a nerd, chances are he's already told you... several times.

And last but not least, they listen. That is, if you can somehow manage to veer the conversation away from World of Warcraft, Fables, and the mythology of Star Wars. (Guys, if you're out there, don't be offended - you know I love you.)

So girls, next time you're walking around thinking, "Hey, who should I procreate with?" be smart, see a nerd.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Obsession Sunday

To make sure that I update my blog more frequently (i.e. at least once a week) I am starting a weekly extravaganza of monumental proportions circulating around my rather impressive list of interests. Orrrrrr, I am going to obsess about things I'm obsessed about!

Today's obsession? Fairy tales!!!
I know what you're thinking - totally sexist, blah, blah, unrealistic, blah, blah, Disney ate my baby. Well, to start, I am not talking about Disney. Okay? Okay! Second, fairy tales are awesome, and here's why:

1. The illustrations... are gorgeous! (Tried uploading a couple, but unfortunately I am having trouble. Sorry!)

2. They are completely vicious. A common punishment for treachery against the heroine is loss of eyes, via ravenous birds. Ouch.

3. Creepy, creepy, creepy. Whoever said children's stories should be light and cheerful obviously never knew me as a child. The darkness in Grimm's tales was absolutely enthralling to me, and I was always most eager for the versions with more shadow than light.

4. The lessons. As in, if your sister tells you not to drink from a certain spring lest you turn into a wild animal, don't drink from it. Because you will turn into an animal, and you will cry, and no one wants that.

5. There's always a happy ending, you know, unless you live in modern day and would prefer that Cinderella become a prominent fashion designer, and not a decorative wife to some nondescript prince. But whether you covet the prize or not, you have to appreciate the sentiment.

Oh, and they also provide historical insight into the values of an "older civilization," but we won't get into that.

So, any obsessions you'd like to share?

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Forget Smart

Okay, so I know that (in theory) the new age of technology is supposed to make all of us much brighter, well-rounded, well-informed citizens of the planet we call earth. And believe me, I know all the right things to read, listen to, watch, etc, to insure that I become one of these super-people (or snobs, depending on how you look at it.) But sometimes, I just need a break.

Enter shows like "Gossip Girl", "Kath and Kim", and others, movies such as "Get Smart", "Baby Momma", and "Momma Mia!" and any music that makes me want to dance, rather than nod my head in agreement. For the record, the fact that I have become so overtly snobified as of late has caused me to publicly mock possibly all these things, before eventually breaking down, giving in to my inner low-brow child, and finding out that, "Hi. I love them!"

Ask anyone in my family which movie I watch most frequently, and they will probably say "Just my Luck", "Moonstruck", or "Arthur." This is because these are movies that a) I enjoy, and b) I don't have to think about. Some of them are just plain bad ("Just my Luck" for instance, is clearly crap, but it's also just so pretty and ridiculous that I end up watching it over and over again,) Some have received critical acclaim ("Moonstruck") but are floated by some as simply "awful" (The Co-worker and I have had many a dispute over this very topic,) and some are just plain brilliant (seriously, I defy anyone to say anything negative about "Arthur." It's genius, end of discussion.)

The point I am trying to make is this: Though I once referred to my questionable taste as "being ironic", I am now confident enough to tell you, "It's OK if you don't want to be smart all the time. Naps are good. Trust me."

Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Just saw Wicked at the Orpheum in San Francisco, and it was a-maz-ing!

(To be frank, I am a bit partial to Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth. Okay, more than a bit partial. More like seriously-crazy-obsessed. But the cast at the Orpheum did do an amazing job.)

The costumes were fantastic... and the set? Totally freakin' awesome! There is definitely a very distinct aesthetic to the world of Wicked, and it is honestly as integral a part of the musical as anything else, music included.

I am still in awe of anyone being able to summon the amount of vocal stamina necessary to carry on for an ENTIRE show (must be exhausting.) Add to that the masterful comedic timing, acting, dancing, etc, etc, etc, and I am pretty much at a loss for words to describe all the talent flying around on that stage. Jealous? I think so. Impressed? Clearly. Dying to see it again? Um, yes. Yes. A thousand times yes!!!

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Andy Warhol Thinks I'm Awesome

Today was the first day of my new history class, and I was... classic.

I got up at 8am sharp (well no, my alarm got up at 8am sharp, I got up around 8:30) and stumbled into the shower, did my makeup as quickly as possible (for me) and threw on the BEST first day outfit of all time - my dark purple jeans, paint splatter top, reddish-coral sweater, and a very cool shawl (yes it's possible) which I think is reminiscent of Andy Warhol and his Pop Art genius. Oh, and black fingerless gloves from Urban, to ward off the morning cold.

I was supposed to get a ride from my brother, but when I finally dragged myself out of bed, he'd already left (perhaps I forgot to remind him of our carpooling plans.) As it was already too late to take the bus, I asked my mom to drop me at school. (She was none too pleased, but took me anyway... ain't she sweet?) But on our way there, I suddenly realized that she was taking me to work and not to school! However, I REMAINED CALM! I would only be a few minutes late... not a huge deal.

When I finally made it into class (second floor, down the hall, on the left) everyone was already sitting down... and I do mean EVERYONE (the class was pretty full, so I had to ask to be directed to an open seat near the back.) As I walked through the rows of seats, past the students all agog at the apparently very late me, I was very aware of the unusually bright outfit I was sporting - Red sweater! Green fingernails! Multi-colored shawl! And gloves! Look at me! I am late, and I'm LOUD!

Turns out, I was actually a full HOUR late, not just a few minutes. Whoops! Guess I should've read that course schedule a little more carefully!

On the plus side, I definitely made an entrance... and I stood out, with my head held high, and my Andy Warhol Shawl a-blazing!

On the down side, I now have to maintain this polished-spazz appearance... because, hi, you can't just go to class one day in brights, and show up the next day in dreary darks. There's no hiding now!

Monday, January 19, 2009

The Kids Don't Stand a Chance. And Neither Do I.

Today I went to work.

It was... fine. (This is where my friend Paul would say, "fine is the F-word!" but I don't care, I simply cannot think of a better word. Sue me if you must.)

The Co-worker and I actually spent quite a few hours side-by-side this afternoon (which between you and me, is probably a few hours too-many. See evidence below.) The store was moderately busy, I was busily (and somewhat happily) doing little projects (orders, receiving) near my register, and he was busily (and complacently) doing whatever he was doing (other projects, of which I have little interest) by his.

Now, you would think that with all the work that was actually (for once) taking place on a somewhat-busy Monday, there would not be much occasion for talking, arguing, and socializing in general. Not so. (Topics included were: I heart Andrew Bird, The Co-worker's rather odd competitive side, and boats, obviously.)

Things got a little heated when the discussion turned to Second Saturdays, and I told him, rather blatantly, that although he habitually stalks my Myspace and makes fun of me on Facebook, that we are "not friends in real life." He didn't seem to take this part well, conceivably because it indicated an actual human emotion, and not just witless banter (our usual, and preferred, mode of communication.) After the initial exasperated (or was it just shocked?) response of "What?!" he concluded that I was mad at him... or if not mad (I told him I wasn't,) than disappointed. This was obviously not a favourable conclusion to him either, as he told me, quite a few times, that I "couldn't be disappointed with him." (As in, "please don't be disappointed with me," only without the "please" part.) To which I replied, "Why not?"

In case you have absolutely no idea what the hell I am talking about when I say, "the discussion turned to Second Saturdays," let me just do a VERY SHORT re-cap. About a week ago, I asked The Co-worker to go to an art/music shin-dig that I would be going to as a part of the local Second Saturday festivities. Being that The Co-worker is both artist and musician, this is a rather obvious sort of thing for him to take part in. However, he said no, he would much rather stay at home. I then felt rejected, obviously, but he apparently never knew this. (To which I say, "Idiot." But not out loud.) Today, the discussion turning to Second Saturdays basically translates into the Co-worker and I doing verbal fisticuffs ("fighting") over why, in any rational universe, he WOULD NOT be interested in going. Ever. Let me just conclude this paragraph by saying that, if one has to successfully argue a point in order to convince a certain person to go out with them, it probably wasn't worth it to begin with.

I would like to say that my rather shaky quick-draw of the guilt card eventually resulted in a win, but sadly, such is not the case. In the end (after the "you can't be disappointed in me's" and "why not's" were over,) the subject was dropped, changed, and forgot about. But not really, at least by me. Obviously.

(God, we really are like an old, married couple. No wonder he jokes about our kids. Idiot.)

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Pretty Messed Up

Today is the first day in maybe two months that my room has been clean. My excuse? I share my room with my 17-year-old sister. Who has A LOT of clothes. And a closet, which she never uses.

I, on the other hand, wound up using half a closet in my parents room when I moved back and realized there was no longer any room for me in the old one. So yes, sometimes when I get home at night and can't go into my parents' room because my dad is sleeping, I plop my clothes on to the end of my bed... which later turns into a small pile which spills on to the floor.

But I think it's perfectly acceptable... because I say so. (And that's final!)

Anyway, in addition to having way too many clothes which she never puts away, my sister also (apparently) does not have enough clothes! Now, if anyone can understand the "I don't have anything to wear!" complex, it is me... I just went shopping (again) at Forever 21 (because I don't have any brights)... I simply am not thrilled with the part of this complex which seems to dictate that she borrow ALL of my clothes, EVERY day, and usually WITHOUT asking. Even more frustrating? The clothing-pile-deep understanding that while I am out busily feeding my shopping addiction, she is effectively using my lack of self control to save money. NOT FAIR. There is really no point to being the oldest. Seriously.

But whatever, I'm too old to whine (or something.)

In other news, Andrew Bird is releasing his new album on TUESDAY and I could not be more excited! I'm thinking of making it an all-me-on-my-own day... getting stuff done, exchanging a mistake for something awesome, getting lunch, coffee, etc, and OF COURSE picking up the CD at my favorite local record store. Yay!

You know, sometimes it really is nice not having a steady job...

Friday, January 16, 2009

The Thing About the Past is...

... you never knows how it's going to turn out.

Help me out guys, who said this?
I've been searching the web for about two whole minutes (God, so long) and I still cannot figure it out! It's driving me CRAZY!!! So, in the interest of my sanity (and I'm assuming yours as well,) I'm simply going to stop trying. Sounds good, right?

Ok, so a couple of days ago I ran into an old pal from high school whom I had always assumed I would never see again. His name was Matt, and we bonded over a shared dislike of 6th period french.

On Wednesday night, I happened to see him outside of my work with Drew, Alana, and Drew and Alana's friend (a.k.a. Matt's girlfriend.) At first I barely even recognized him, so I was surprised when he knew (I think) exactly who I was.

Matt: "Were you in Mr. R's french class?"
Me: "Yahhh"
Matt: "Oh, I think we had the same class..."
Me: "What's your name?"
Matt: "Matt"
Me: "Matt Green?!"
Matt: "Yah"
Me: "Oh my God, I hecka remember you!!!"
Matt: "I know"

So, yes... all in all, a very witty exchange/joyous reunion. To be fair, there is absolutely no part of my enthusiasm that goes unwarranted. Because, well, that class was dull. And Matt made me laugh, A LOT. Like, my abs literally ached from laughing so hard sometimes. I am forever in his dept, I think.

To be honest, I was a little disappointed that he has a girlfriend, presently... but he seemed to be doing really well, sufficiently recovered from high school, and all that... and really, Drew and Alana's friend (I suppose I should call her Ariel, because I think that is a nice fake name) is really a very nice, upbeat, sunshiny sort of creature. Which is good.

And I honestly wasn't even jealous... okay, maybe a little jealous... but mostly, I'm just glad I got to see him. And I'm glad it wasn't awkward, which is how I would expect a miniature high school reunion to turn out.

Maybe now I can get up the nerve to say hi to those middle-school acquaintances I keep seeing at the cafe outside of school... But ew, do I really want to talk to them?

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Oh Baby, how you move me! (Meme Today, Blog Tomorrow)

First ever Weirdo-endorsed meme*! Are you excited?? You should be.

And don't worry, I've provided helpful commentary for your (and my) enjoyment. Proceed with caution... (Kidding!)

1. Put your iPod/iTunes on shuffle.

2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.


4. Tag 3 people to complete this!

"Woman Left Alone" (Cat Power)

- Or, leave me alone

"Corduroy" (Jaymay)

- Damnit.

"Of Moons, Birds and Monsters" (MGMT)

- Someone who's a little off, apparently

"Hit the Heartbrakes" (Black Kids)

- Oh, yes. I should.

"This Ship Was Built to Last" (Duke Spirit)

- It really was

"Gronlandic Edit" (Of Montreal)

- Wow, my friends are weird

"Matchbox" (The Kooks)

- I swear I'm not a pyro... most of the time

"Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" (Vampire Weekend)

- I really couldn't tell you

"A Martyr for My Love for Your" (The White Stripes)

- Haha. Seriously.

"A Voice at the End of the Line" (M. Ward)

- Ah, so true

"Teen Lovers" (The Virgins)

- Hell Yes! Or not... LOL

"The Past and Pending" (The Shins)

- Hmm, no doubt! I will move on! I willlllll!!!

"The Bleeding Heart Show" (The New Pornographers)

- LOL, I don't think so... or do I?

"Hallucinations" (The Raveonettes)

- That's great, what a perfect wedding song... unfortunately.

"Transfiguration #2" (M. Ward)

- Ha, Perfect

"Closure Found Rag" (Language of Kings)

- Is closure a secret? Okay never mind, it totally is.

"Jigsaw Falling Into Place" (Radiohead)

- Nice

"Get Free" (The Vines)

- Huh. Maybe the opposite of this is more accurate, no?

"My Friend" (Dr. Dog)

- Holy Crap

"Baskerfeild By The Sea" (Knock Knock)

- I don't know what this means

"The Delicate Place" (Spoon)

- No kidding, I'm such a child!

"Little Green Bag" (George Baker Selection)

- It's a good thing I don't smoke then!

"Bamboo Banga" (M.I.A.)

- All right then

"I've Got You" (McFly)

- I so do

"Red Morning Light" (Kings of Leon)

- Hmmm... It's so profound, I don't even understand it!

"300 MPH Torrential Outpour Blues" (The White Stripes)

- But it was sunny today... Oh well!

And I tag Chelsea, Himbo, and Sebastian!

Have fun guys!

* This meme provided by Beelzebub at Common Nonsense

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Hey Man, It's All Good (Or Something)

OK, so I realize it's been a while since my last (real) post. Sincerest apologies.

But see, I took this vacation, on a boat... and we got lost... and suddenly we were stranded on this desert island, with cannibals... and no Internet! Or I've just been a little out of it lately.

Turns out, making yourself forget about someone you like is a little harder than I thought. Especially when said someone keeps texting/facebook commenting every time you (almost) stop thinking about them. Normally I would think that this sort of attention, though limited, is a sign that he likes me... that is, if he hadn't already rejected my invitation to join me for the Second Saturday shin-dig that he absolutely did have time for.

Be that as it may, the Second Saturday thing was still a lot of fun. In this town (read: small city,) the second Saturday of every month is an event in itself. Local cafes, boutiques, salons, restaurants, etc. are transformed into venues for the arts. Local artists display their work and local bands provide entertainment. It's all very, ummm... now. Or something. Anyway, one of these venues is a non-profit organization headed up by my mom and her friends, so me and Drew (my brother) were there to show our support/hang out on the couch and act like total weirdo's. At one point, we had a "live art installation" entitled "our living room," which consisted of sitting on the big red coach in the middle of the festivities, and acting as if no one else was there, but in a nice way. The piece came to a crashing halt, however, when I got up to go to the bathroom and two other people sat in my seat. Also when the headlining act began playing and we decided that "this, would never happen." All in all it was a great night - a ton of people showed up, the performances were great, and the "energy" was amazing. It was their (my mom and company's) first time in a new place, and it was pretty perfect.

Other than that, I've had the last couple of days off, and school starts next week. I know I probably won't feel like this for long, but I'm actually looking forward to a new semester. It'll give me something new to obsess about for a while. that is, if I'm not too busy playing SingStar!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

The Truth According to Blogthings

For those of you who read my last post, blogthings has me answered... kind of.

Your Dreams Are Important

Your dreams seem to show that you're a bit disturbed... but nothing serious.

You may have a problem you're trying to work out in your sleep.

Your dreams tend to reflect your insecurities.

You have a very vivid imagination and a rich creative mind.

Well, okay, it's a little too vague to be helpful... but that's what I get for taking dream diagnosis from online quizes!

Real post to come!

Thursday, January 8, 2009

What Dreams May Come (and bug the hell out of me)

Part Two: Random violence and other things

While my last post was about dreams in the metaphorical sense (as in "I have a dream..." as in, I have a dream that one day I will own as many designer outfits as Carrie Bradshaw), this post is about dreams in the literal sense (as in, someone help me, please!)

Lately, my dreams have been a little on the disturbing side - what with people dying, getting severely injured, or being slowly stabbed to death. I know, nasty piece of work, my internal psyche.

Anyway, the first dream I can remember being like this occurred a couple of weeks ago. In it, I met (and made out with) Andrew, a barrista whom I'd had a friendly customer-to-customer-serviceman relationship with (in real life) before he transferred cafes several months ago. The first thing that was strange about this dream was the kiss. Normally, if I kiss someone in a dream, I can feel it. Wet, warm, whatever... it's all there. This time, no such thing. As for what it looked like, I could only see that from outside the situation, as if it didn't really include me at all. A few minutes (in dream time) later (and this is the really weird part), Andrew suddenly has a stake through his head. As in, a giant nail. He's lying on the ground, and I have no idea what to do. He seems to be dead already. I looked it up on Wikipedia, and apparently "In folklore and mythology, a wooden stake have special powers to kill certain monsters via impalement. See vampyre" (Just so you know, I am aware that the quote says "stake have," but this is Wikipedia, after all.) As far as I know, Andrew is not now, nor do I think is likely to have ever been, a vampire (or vampyre.) So really, he's dead for no reason. And I know this is crazy, but every time I think about that dream, I feel as though I killed him! I feel awful. He didn't deserve to die, he's just a poor, unsuspecting victim of my (apparently) tormented subconscious.

In the second dream, I am lost on a twisting staircase. It's Labyrinth-esque, it's cold and it's stony, so I know what this one means. Easy. However, this dream is even more violence-ridden than the next, and a whole lot more graphic to boot. There is one man lying on what I can only describe as his death-bed, and there is another man right next to him. I'm not sure, but I think they're supposed to be father and son (the father being the older, dying one). All of a sudden, the younger one is being stabbed through the middle by the older one - and with an almost clear, long, curved sword with no handle (which looks almost exactly like a giant fish bone!) Luckily, I don't seem to know either of these men, so I'm not too scarred by it. Although the (horrifyingly) graceful back-and-forth motion of the sword from within it's victim has left a lasting impression.

The third, and thankfully last, installment of these dreams is both considerably less shocking and simultaneously more disconcerting. My friend Paul (whom I was once secretly in love with) was visiting my house (aka my parents' house) and somehow sustained a mildly serious head-wound. I'm not sure how, or why (though I'm almost certain I saw it happen), but he was immediately proclaimed a temporary invalid and sent straight to the couch. I inevitably had the urge to go and kiss his forehead (although I would not have kissed the wound, because it was disgusting), but in the end I stood my ground. Because if there's one thing people hate, it's awkward tension between friends. Even in dreams. Apparently.

Also, in a non-violence-induced tangent, The Co-worker appeared for the first time in one of my dreams last night. Nothing tragic, nothing dirty (sorry) ... he was just passing through, very considerately minding his own business. This will be because he inadvertently rejected me last week, and I've been attempting to get over him (read: stop thinking about him) ever since. I expected the dreams to come. Still, it's always irritating when they do.

Okay, so now I've told you ALL my weirdo dreams from the past few weeks, feel free to begin diagnosing/dissecting my mind... NOW! Whatever you've got, I can handle it... I'm pretty sure it will be better than Suzee-Q's interpretation, which was "Well, maybe Andrew is dead." Really Suze? Thanks for that. So helpful.

What Dreams May Come (and bug the hell out of me)

Part One: Sex and the City makes me want to shop!!!

For the most part, I'm pretty well satisfied with my life... I live at home, but I love my family (and we actually get along, gah!); I work in retail, but I like my co-workers (one in particular I like a little too much, but we'll get into that later); and I have friends whom I adore (though some of them unfortunately live very far away!)

For me, it's all the little things that really count, like the fact that I can be made inordinately happy with the mere mention of musicals - live or filmed, have a very good time being obsessed with certain books (Harry Potter and Twilight series', anything Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde, etc.), and love nothing better than a good night in playing SingStar or watching the beloved TV. But sometimes, I come across something that makes me feel as though I need to drop everything and become a world-wide success (and subsequently become filthy-stinking-rich) IMMEDIATELY! One of these things is Sex and the City. I love this show for many reasons... unfortunately one of these reasons also makes me feel severely inadequate, and that reason is THE CLOTHES. I know, I know, it's just material, they're just possessions (I barely even believe that at this point), but that doesn't change the fact that one episode later and I am more than convinced that if I could only dress (and maybe even look like) Carrie Bradshaw, my life would be A MILLION times better!!

Honestly, I had the computer on my lap while watching, and before the show was even over I had this very strong impulse to go to and completely re-invent myself. (For me, UO is like the version of SATC that I can actually, sort of, afford. I know it's not the same, don't be confused.)

The good news is that I PREVAILED! I resisted the online-shopping urge and am no more in dept today than I was yesterday (or the day before, when I bought two Cd's I really didn't need.)

(Part two to come. Although I should mention that the only things Part One and Part Two will really have in common are the titles and the dates published. Bare with me, it's fun.)

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Abba's in the living room, and Dorota will get your coats

As those of you who joined I Wish My Life Was a Musical! on Twenty Something Bloggers may have guessed, I am very much in love with musicals. So much so that my friend Alana and I have this long-standing wish to actually live in one!

So, In an attempt to make our lives more musical, I recently purchased this game

Right after buying this movie

(Yes, I'm a spend-head... don't judge!)

Anyway, Me and my brother Drew (who is straight by the way, just in case this post confuses you) got home at around 6pm last night and started playing Abba SingStar on the PS3... and we didn't stop playing it until 8. Needless to say, I love this game! Not only do you get to sing your ass off to all the Abba hits you know and love, but the music videos that play along with the songs are amazing. Outrageous costumes, makeup that looks like it's melting under the not-so-perfect lighting, and absolutely hilarious choreography = Pure 70's magic! There's also a bit of 80's and early 90's in there, which doesn't hurt.

There is, of course, one flaw in the magical world of SingStar; and that is - if you thought you could sing before, you won't after playing this game! I am one of those people who loves to sing in and out of the shower, and most of the time I think I sound pretty good. Not amazingly fantastic and earth-shattering, but not horribly out-of-tune and pathetic either. Playing this game, though, makes me think maybe I am more of the latter. Somehow I always seem to conveniently forget this right before playing (we also have the 80's SingStar), and the shock of it all can be a bit embarrassing. But then I recover and forget about the embarrassing part, and sooner or later I find myself being humiliated by my own lack of skill all over again! It's the cycle of life, or something. (Alana was really excited to come over and play, until she got here and realized that Oh, right, this is a game where you have to sing in front of people!)

On another note, Gossip Girl is getting darker and darker. I just finished watching it on the DVR and let's just say it was almost as depressing as last week's! But seriously, I'll be the first to tell you that I was thrilled with all the new plot-lines that came to light before the holiday break, and I still think it's genius of the writers to give us a story we can actually break our hearts over - I just don't know how much more of this I can take! Thank God for Dorota, she's just the subtle kind of comedic relief I need!

Until tomorrow (or, you know, later),

Saturday, January 3, 2009

One-Day-Weekend Wonder

When you work in retail, you will find that your definition of weekends is just not the same as it used to be. Today was a Saturday, and miraculously I did have the day off! (Not tomorrow though, I have to open the store at 9am on a Sunday - wooh!) So to celebrate, I had an amazing day of doing absolutely nothing, and it was fantastic!

Part one of the wonderful nothing was watching a movie with my brother Drew and mutual friend Alana. Now, it must be said that our version of watching movies involves a lot of talking and very little actual watching. It's just one of the benefits of being at home and not at the movie theater (where people typically don't appreciat that kind of behavior!) The movie of the day was "Mamma Mia!" and it was... perfect. For anyone who wants to be able to both mock and enjoy their movies, "Mamma Mia!" is the choice for you!

After that, we headed on down to Ulta, followed by Target, followed by Barnes and Noble, followed by home (the ultimate destination.) I bought a few things as late christmas presents to myself/rewards for doing so little shopping lately (wait...) The first item on my list was a new Con-Air Ionic Hair Dryer with a diffuser attatchment, for my poor, suffering hair. Next was a tried-and-true brand of Shampoo and Conditioner, also for the suffering hair. After that, "Mamma Mia!" on blu-ray (the copy we were watching earlier was sadly not mine to keep.) And to finnish the shopping extravaganza, a copy of New Moon for Edie-girl (we're exchanging our christmas presents later.)

All in all, it was the perfect day for me and my tired-ass self. Here's hoping I'm rested enough to wake up for work in the morning! Oh God, I think we're out of coffee...

Be Kind, Don't Rewind

Tonight I am a little sad. I have finally been made to accept the fact that, as the world-famous book and now soon-to-be movie says, "He's Just Not That Into You" er, me. Luckily, Jim Sturgess is here performing right in my living room (via "Across the Universe", in Blu-ray) and who better to cheer me up than a sexy crooner such as himself? (And British too!)

So for those of you who were absolutely besides yourselves with worry over my fate during the dreaded New Year's Eve in Touristville, you can finally relax! I AM ALIVE!!! And no, I did not get sent to the tent, thank God! Thankfully, all the really drunk people stayed outside, so I got to avoid them as well. All in all, it was not quite the crisis situation I thought it would be. Which, unfortunately, is rather boring for you. So I'm sorry. I will try to follow through on the discontent at a later date.

For now, Jim Sturgess is calling, and I'd best not keep him waiting!