Mmmmm just finished a piece of apple pie from the Thanksgiving feast. I think we usually end up bringing at least half a pie home, and this year was no exception. We have to bring the apple home though, because somebody *cough*Dave*cough* doesn't like pumpkin.
I was going to go shopping with Nadia today, but we're pushing it back to next Saturday. Crazy pregnant lady thought she could do two days of shopping in a row! (Remember Nadia, you told me I could call you that) But that's OK, because I need to clean the apartment. They're coming on Tuesday to inspect our heater, and I don't want to get kicked out for being a fire hazard or something. We have to lock the cats up while they're here, which will be oh so pleasant.
Speaking of the cats, Mojo's newest thing is attacking the flower arrangement next to one of the speakers in the living room. It's been a part of the decor since we found him, but he has apparently only just noticed it. He's such a gem.
And Sugar was up my ass today begging for turkey. We made the mistake a couple years ago of giving her a little bit of our Christmas dinner, and ever since then she begs shamelessly for whatever meat you're eating. She even gets excited over bacon before it's even cooked! She's funny though. She has to lick all the salt off before she'll eat it, and today she licked it right off the little TV tray onto the floor. She got all crazy because it fell too close to my shoe and she didn't think she could get to it. Didn't think of going around to the other side I guess.
*BURN UPDATE* Beckett's bartender's band-aid took more skin. No more band-aids for me. Burn is still nice and red, with a lovely scab. Dave made me get something to put on it, so I got something called "Burn Stuff." They also make "Cut Stuff." The box says "Because burns aren't cuts and cuts aren't burns..." Marketing genius, I tell you. The box should also say "WARNING: Our 'Stuff' smells like ass."
Saturday, November 29, 2003
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Heading down to Papa & Pammer's sometime today. Gotta finish making part of Kim's birthday present yet, and shower. Good thing I didn't have a hangover when I got up today, or we might have never made it down there.
Went out with a couple of Dave's friends last night, something I rarely get to do since I have to work on Tuesdays - they play pool on Tuesday nights. There's a new place in Bowling Green called Beckett's, where SamB's used to be. A huge improvement on the property, if you ask me.
Had a tremendous time, but lost count on the drinks. But that's OK, because I had a lot of fun. I love pool, but I don't get to play very often, and I suck big time, but that's OK too.
Well, back to the birthday project.
*BURN UPDATE* Band-aid mark almost gone, but burn is still nasty. Managed to scrape it last night while pulling up my sleeve, requiring me to beg a band-aid from the bartender. It hurts.
Went out with a couple of Dave's friends last night, something I rarely get to do since I have to work on Tuesdays - they play pool on Tuesday nights. There's a new place in Bowling Green called Beckett's, where SamB's used to be. A huge improvement on the property, if you ask me.
Had a tremendous time, but lost count on the drinks. But that's OK, because I had a lot of fun. I love pool, but I don't get to play very often, and I suck big time, but that's OK too.
Well, back to the birthday project.
*BURN UPDATE* Band-aid mark almost gone, but burn is still nasty. Managed to scrape it last night while pulling up my sleeve, requiring me to beg a band-aid from the bartender. It hurts.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Have you seen my new shoes? They're not made out of wood! (A little shout out to the Pammer on that one)
I noticed Sunday night at work that I had a hole inside my shoe. Not in the shoe, like you could see it, but in the sole inside the shoe. I was quite distraught. Not just because I really like those shoes, but because I just bought a new pair of shoes like a month ago. As most of you know, I'm not a big fan of spending the money. Don't do shopping sprees, try not to buy too many needless things.
It all started when I went to find my tennis shoes. Summer is over, and I can't run around in my Hirachis anymore. So I dug them out of the closet, and discovered some web-looking things in them. Sounds bad, I know, but I haven't worn them in months! Well, I was afraid that spiders were living in them, so I decided to go buy some new tennis shoes.
Then it hit me. I don't think I've ever bought my own tennis shoes. I may be wrong, I may be forgetting a pair somewhere along the line, but I don't think I am. And chances are if I have bought a pair, the money, in reality, came from mom & dad. So not only have I not had a new pair of tennis shoes in like 10 years, (real tennis shoes, not cheap-ass Keds wannabes), I've never bought them with my very own hard-earned money. WTF?
But hey, I love those shoes! My comfy black sambas with the three white stripes. I had no reason to buy tennis shoes until now. They probably have another 10 years in them, but there's that possible spider thing...
Anyway, off to the mall I went, knowing exactly what I wanted. Shoes just like the old ones, only blue! Just one problem. They don't exist! I don't know what I was thinking. After 10 years they're going to have the exact same little soccer-type shoes on the market? Yeah, right. I may not like change, but the rest of the world sure does. I was not happy.
The other thing that ticked me off was that I was apparently invisible to sales people. I went in three stores, didn't even get a hello. One of the stores I was in, a manly athletic-type place, was truly terrible. I walked the perimeter of the store twice, picked shoes up, went back and forth between a few pairs, and nothing. I was pissed! I wanted to tell them that round people wear tennis shoes too, but instead I glared at them and left.
As I passed a fourth store, I saw my new shoes. Not just like my old ones, but pretty damn close. But I vowed that if I was ignored, there would be no new shoes. Luckily, the girl working said hello as soon as I stepped in. I said hello, and that I was going to buy shoes from her because she was the only one to acknowledge me all day. She probably thought I was nuts, but who cares?
So I got my new blue shoes (had to special order them, no shoes small enough at the store) and they arrived in the mail a week later. I was so excited I had to show everyone at work. Pathetic, yes, but it's a milestone ... or something.
My second pair of new shoes, not such a big deal. Just some lovely leather loafer-type things. I like them, but I've bought work shoes before, so no milestones there.
*BURN UPDATE* Now more red and violent-looking, with a nice little scab where I gouged it. The band-aid mark is fainter, but still visible.
I noticed Sunday night at work that I had a hole inside my shoe. Not in the shoe, like you could see it, but in the sole inside the shoe. I was quite distraught. Not just because I really like those shoes, but because I just bought a new pair of shoes like a month ago. As most of you know, I'm not a big fan of spending the money. Don't do shopping sprees, try not to buy too many needless things.
It all started when I went to find my tennis shoes. Summer is over, and I can't run around in my Hirachis anymore. So I dug them out of the closet, and discovered some web-looking things in them. Sounds bad, I know, but I haven't worn them in months! Well, I was afraid that spiders were living in them, so I decided to go buy some new tennis shoes.
Then it hit me. I don't think I've ever bought my own tennis shoes. I may be wrong, I may be forgetting a pair somewhere along the line, but I don't think I am. And chances are if I have bought a pair, the money, in reality, came from mom & dad. So not only have I not had a new pair of tennis shoes in like 10 years, (real tennis shoes, not cheap-ass Keds wannabes), I've never bought them with my very own hard-earned money. WTF?
But hey, I love those shoes! My comfy black sambas with the three white stripes. I had no reason to buy tennis shoes until now. They probably have another 10 years in them, but there's that possible spider thing...
Anyway, off to the mall I went, knowing exactly what I wanted. Shoes just like the old ones, only blue! Just one problem. They don't exist! I don't know what I was thinking. After 10 years they're going to have the exact same little soccer-type shoes on the market? Yeah, right. I may not like change, but the rest of the world sure does. I was not happy.
The other thing that ticked me off was that I was apparently invisible to sales people. I went in three stores, didn't even get a hello. One of the stores I was in, a manly athletic-type place, was truly terrible. I walked the perimeter of the store twice, picked shoes up, went back and forth between a few pairs, and nothing. I was pissed! I wanted to tell them that round people wear tennis shoes too, but instead I glared at them and left.
As I passed a fourth store, I saw my new shoes. Not just like my old ones, but pretty damn close. But I vowed that if I was ignored, there would be no new shoes. Luckily, the girl working said hello as soon as I stepped in. I said hello, and that I was going to buy shoes from her because she was the only one to acknowledge me all day. She probably thought I was nuts, but who cares?
So I got my new blue shoes (had to special order them, no shoes small enough at the store) and they arrived in the mail a week later. I was so excited I had to show everyone at work. Pathetic, yes, but it's a milestone ... or something.
My second pair of new shoes, not such a big deal. Just some lovely leather loafer-type things. I like them, but I've bought work shoes before, so no milestones there.
*BURN UPDATE* Now more red and violent-looking, with a nice little scab where I gouged it. The band-aid mark is fainter, but still visible.
Sunday, November 23, 2003
Woke up this morning, had no frigging idea what day it was. Thought it was Friday, but Golden Girls wasn't on. Then I remembered that Dave was golfing, not at class, and realized it's Sunday. This does not bode well for the rest of the day.
I think my confusion stems from the trauma of burning my arm on the iron yesterday. I don't think I've ever burned myself this bad on an iron! Usually when my skin touches hot metal I have the sense to move, but I think I had a delayed reaction yesterday. Later I managed to catch it with my thumbnail while turning a sock right-side-out, which felt really good, so I put a big band-aid over it. Didn't feel like tearing the skin off my arm just for a basketful of socks, you see. Anyway, this large band-aid didn't want to come off nicely, so I ripped it (and some dry skin) off, and now there is a big red mark on my arm under the burn.
Gross and pointless story, I know, but now if you see me you won't have to ask. Plus, that was the most exciting thing that happened yesterday. Dave and I were going to go out after dinner, but I was feeling too lazy after hours of laundry. Maybe next weekend.
I finished the book I mentioned in the last rambling - "By the Light of the Moon" by Dean Koontz. I've been looking for that book for I don't know how long. I read an excerpt from it in one of his other books and it sounded interesting - I was hooked by talk of a woman's pet jade plant named Fred. When I went to buy it, I couldn't remember the title, or what book the excerpt was in, and never remembered to go through my books to find it. Finally figured out the title after many months, but every time I was in a bookstore, it wasn't in stock. Meijer just happened to have it the other night so my stupid search is over. It was pretty good, not quite worth my months of irritation, but if you like Koontz's books I would recommend it.
I think my confusion stems from the trauma of burning my arm on the iron yesterday. I don't think I've ever burned myself this bad on an iron! Usually when my skin touches hot metal I have the sense to move, but I think I had a delayed reaction yesterday. Later I managed to catch it with my thumbnail while turning a sock right-side-out, which felt really good, so I put a big band-aid over it. Didn't feel like tearing the skin off my arm just for a basketful of socks, you see. Anyway, this large band-aid didn't want to come off nicely, so I ripped it (and some dry skin) off, and now there is a big red mark on my arm under the burn.
Gross and pointless story, I know, but now if you see me you won't have to ask. Plus, that was the most exciting thing that happened yesterday. Dave and I were going to go out after dinner, but I was feeling too lazy after hours of laundry. Maybe next weekend.
I finished the book I mentioned in the last rambling - "By the Light of the Moon" by Dean Koontz. I've been looking for that book for I don't know how long. I read an excerpt from it in one of his other books and it sounded interesting - I was hooked by talk of a woman's pet jade plant named Fred. When I went to buy it, I couldn't remember the title, or what book the excerpt was in, and never remembered to go through my books to find it. Finally figured out the title after many months, but every time I was in a bookstore, it wasn't in stock. Meijer just happened to have it the other night so my stupid search is over. It was pretty good, not quite worth my months of irritation, but if you like Koontz's books I would recommend it.
Saturday, November 22, 2003
Insomnia Sucks - please note the capital S. Last night I dozed a bit while watching a lovely episode of the Golden Girls (Rose's mother comes to visit, Blanche's aerobics instructor asks her out because she reminds him of his mother). After some twitching from realizing I had dozed and it was way too early to sleep lest I mar my routine, I got up and played some online pool. Went to bed shortly after 2 a.m.
Did I fall asleep? No. It was one of those nights when I was extremely tired, but everything was too loud and drove me nuts. I was breathing too loud, Dave was breathing too loud and Mojo was cleaning himself too loud. I could have sworn he was using sandpaper on something! SCRRRRAPE! SCRRRRAPE! SCRRRRAPE! That cat never cleans himself except when he knows it will bother me.
Anyway, I usually get so aggravated and there's no point in staying in bed, bouncing Dave around with my every toss and turn. This was the case last night, so I got up at 3 a.m. and went to Meijer because we were out of coffee. Got the java, some donuts, one of those bologna-cheese-cracker kits (the name escapes me) and a book, headed home. I figured I'd eat, read a little, and then I would be sufficiently tired to be able to fall asleep despite my hyper-sensitive ears.
Did it work? Let's just say I was up until 7 a.m. I got up at 12:30 - can't miss the soaps on a Friday! Of course, I didn't actually watch them, I taped them. But I didn't go back to bed, that would make too much sense. Should have though, because I think tonight will be more of the same. >:(
Insomnia Sucks.
Did I fall asleep? No. It was one of those nights when I was extremely tired, but everything was too loud and drove me nuts. I was breathing too loud, Dave was breathing too loud and Mojo was cleaning himself too loud. I could have sworn he was using sandpaper on something! SCRRRRAPE! SCRRRRAPE! SCRRRRAPE! That cat never cleans himself except when he knows it will bother me.
Anyway, I usually get so aggravated and there's no point in staying in bed, bouncing Dave around with my every toss and turn. This was the case last night, so I got up at 3 a.m. and went to Meijer because we were out of coffee. Got the java, some donuts, one of those bologna-cheese-cracker kits (the name escapes me) and a book, headed home. I figured I'd eat, read a little, and then I would be sufficiently tired to be able to fall asleep despite my hyper-sensitive ears.
Did it work? Let's just say I was up until 7 a.m. I got up at 12:30 - can't miss the soaps on a Friday! Of course, I didn't actually watch them, I taped them. But I didn't go back to bed, that would make too much sense. Should have though, because I think tonight will be more of the same. >:(
Insomnia Sucks.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
So the third annual Victoria's Secret skank parade - oh, I'm sorry, fashion show - is on tonight. I'm pretty happy about that.
I mean, it's good to find a way at least once a year to reinforce to the teenage girls that you have to be skinny and tall and have big boobs to be beautiful. And what better way to do that than by airing an underwear show on a major television station? Rock on, CBS!
And it's not just bad for the girls. The boys are having the same ignorant ideals of beauty implanted in their hormone-ridden brains, and those ideas will stick around for a looooong time. I pity the round little girl, or flat-chested little girl who develops a crush in her teens. Teenage boys can be brutal in their mockery, which tears the poor girl down even more.
But I shouldn't be upset about this silly show, because it's on at 10 p.m., and all the young'uns will be asleep.
I know, I know, there are bigger things to worry about. Like what impact Arnold's governorship will have on the Midwest (NONE, so get a life fellow Ohioans), or whether bin Laden is hiding out in California (he's not, he's in Deshler, Ohio). I don't care. This crap promotes low self-esteem - and I'm not even going to get into the objectification of women.
I'm sorry, but until a short fat woman struts her stuff on one of these frigging shows, or until they aren't shown on TV anymore, I will bitch.
Scratch that, I'm not sorry one bit.
I mean, it's good to find a way at least once a year to reinforce to the teenage girls that you have to be skinny and tall and have big boobs to be beautiful. And what better way to do that than by airing an underwear show on a major television station? Rock on, CBS!
And it's not just bad for the girls. The boys are having the same ignorant ideals of beauty implanted in their hormone-ridden brains, and those ideas will stick around for a looooong time. I pity the round little girl, or flat-chested little girl who develops a crush in her teens. Teenage boys can be brutal in their mockery, which tears the poor girl down even more.
But I shouldn't be upset about this silly show, because it's on at 10 p.m., and all the young'uns will be asleep.
I know, I know, there are bigger things to worry about. Like what impact Arnold's governorship will have on the Midwest (NONE, so get a life fellow Ohioans), or whether bin Laden is hiding out in California (he's not, he's in Deshler, Ohio). I don't care. This crap promotes low self-esteem - and I'm not even going to get into the objectification of women.
I'm sorry, but until a short fat woman struts her stuff on one of these frigging shows, or until they aren't shown on TV anymore, I will bitch.
Scratch that, I'm not sorry one bit.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
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