My new husband

Jim Brickman, I'm gonna marry you. You can't tell me a man that plays piano with such nimble fingers doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Plus, he isn't ugly!!!!

Oh wait, he's gay, isn't he?

Random Winding and Whining Thoughts

I was thinking about sports. I played ping pong last night and all I wanted to do was take one giant slug at the ball. I didn't care where it went, just as long as it went there fast. I thought, maybe I should get back into tennis. But you have to hit in confined areas and you can't just let go and swing there either. So I considered baseball, but even then, you have to hit it within the bounds of the foul lines. And you can't just stand there and think "I kicked that ball's ass"...you have to hurry and chase NO ONE around in a circle. Even golfing, you have to aim for a tiny little hole or in that general direction.

I realized that there really isn't a sport where you can just go all out and savor the moment. Everything requires control or aim and has guidelines for a specific goal.

Life is a lot like sports. People expect you to play and work within certain bounds and everything you do has some expected goal or outcome. Then, to be successful, you're confined to the boundaries of that goal. Acting outside of the box is rarely welcomed.

Why is success measured by how we work within certain confines?. It is never acceptable to really let loose and go a bit crazy. You're always aiming for something. They call it "goals", but since it doesn't get me what I want right now, I'm calling it an obstacle.

Biblically speaking, since the beginning of time, man and woman were given certain confines in which to live and function. For those not into the biblical origins, you still can't deny that society prefers to operate that way today. Why is it so essential that we have such restrictions and guidelines? From my job I know it just takes one moron to ruin crap for the rest of us. Is that what happened? Was Eve the first moron to ruin things for us? Why did it have to be a woman? If man has dominion...why wasn't he watching her more closely? :)

Arguments with myself

I recently got my hair done. Someone told me the highlights make me look younger. Am I at the age where I need to start trying to look younger? I always try at work to sound more mature and dress more sophisticated, and well...older. My 29th birthday is in 6 days. Am I officially getting old? Is now the time to start buying anti-wrinkle cream? Even worse...am I old enough to be called a spinster? Ugh...thank goodness I'm at least old enough to drown my sorrows in a bottle of wine.

Oh sweet cruelty

I have the slight misfortune of retaining friends that are also friends with an ex-boyfriend. I also have the slight misfortune to have a semi-pleasant disposition that allows me to remain friends with the same ex-boyfriend. I know he has dated other girls since we split, and that's fine. I don't care that he does this, but that doesn't mean I necessarily want to hang out with him and his new girlfriend. It especially doesn't mean that I want to witness them making out.

However, life can be cruel to me. Earlier this month, I went to our mutual friends' house for a get together. The ex was there and so was his latest girlfriend. After an unneccessary awkward silence, he introduces me to her. She was perfectly pleasant (though rather trashy looking) and I felt at ease. Shortly after I say my hellos to the group, he leans over and kisses her. Ok, you're dating, you kiss, I get it. But this was not a "glad you're here with me" peck on the lips. This was an "if this table wasn't in the way I'd mount you" kind of kiss. Or maybe it is better described as a "let me stir your stomach contents with my tongue" kind of kiss.

I couldn't believe that people in their mid thirties were still into acting like sex deprived 16 year olds. Apparently the four other people at the table couldn't either, because we all looked away and everyone started talking at once. During the next half an hour of awkward eye avoidance, a Tool song came up on the playlist. I mentioned that I despised Tool, and the girlfriend immediately jumped to the defense of the mono-syllabic musical disaster. Judging by the tacky and unoriginal half sleeve tattoos on each arm and the "I'm a brat" t-shirt, I quickly surmised that she was not only a Tool fan, but a tool herself.

After learning our musical tastes were as different as our number of baby daddies, I may have subtlely egged on the situation. 'N Sync traveled up through the playlist and my friend and I sang along. I gushed, "I LOVE N SYNC!" and watched ToolGirl shudder. Yes TG, I can make you as uncomfortable as your tongue wrestling made me.

Finally we adjourned to the living room to play some guitar hero. Well I'm the lucky bastard, because they decided to sit by me on the couch and make out some more. At this point, I'm thinking that maybe I'm the only one bothered by it. I would have said something earlier, but being an ex, it might be interpreted as anything but disgust. Fortunately, around this time, my pal turns to them and loudly yells for them to quit making out because it is annoying everyone there. Well, since someone else initiated this conversation, I had to add "Oooohhhh, the maker outers got in trouble for being disgusting..." Oh yeah, I even said it in that sing-song voice you used to annoy your siblings when you were a child.

Well now kids, that isn't the end of this story.

My pal and I reminisced about that fateful evening recently. I discovered, with child-like glee, that TG gets even better. Before my arrival, the party occupants were served hamburgers by their dear hosts. Most everyone loaded up their plate, and the host reminded ToolGirl to get a burger before they're gone. But she refused, saying she wanted to be sure the men all got enough food before she would eat. HELLO???

So now, with a New Year's Eve party approaching, I find I am able to enjoy another fine evening with the ex and TG. But instead of watching them water their herpes farm and letting it annoy me, we're playing a maker outer drinking game! When they have a prolonged kiss, we take a drink. We she defers to men for any reason, we take a shot. When they do a secret lovers whisper, we have to belt out a theme song from any show. The goal of my evening will obviously be to get drunk and start a singing trend. Stay tuned for the aftermath blog!!

The Tackle Box

I like organization. I get this distorted sense of pleasure when I see things all neat and tidy. Someone told me about organizing their hair clips and ties in a clear tackle box. As my hair ties and clips are mixed together randomly in a basket, I decided I had to organize them in a clear tackle box too.

That means I was headed to Walmart.

The fishing/hunting section is in the far corner of the store by automotive supplies...a corner of the store I obviously have no reason to visit. I have passed it by a couple times - on my way to bedding and fabrics, or to find Adam or Sara in the toy section. I've seen the people that shop this section. Mullets, camo attire and butt cracks seem to be the order of the day. I fear of interacting with these people. I'm afraid they'll overtake me and feather the front of my hair. Or worse yet, they'll abduct me with their newly purchased rifle and ammo and take me to the woods where I'll be forced to live in a dilapidated cabin and raise their rat-tail children and make new foods from fatback and kill my own dinner. A fate worse than death, I know.

An in-and-out plan was needed, but I wasn't familiar with this section. Asking for help wasn't an option. What would they do to me if they realized I'm buying a tackle box to organize hair accessories? Do they know what accessory means - other than in terms of murder sentencing? I'd have to dash in and out. I didn't have time to agonize over finding the best pricing option, or visualize my hair accessories in each compartment. I'd have to find, grab and buy. My plan set, I left the house.

I walked into Walmart.

I walked, assuredly and resolutely, past housewares, past paint supplies and finally past the safety of the bedding department. I wanted to pause, to scan the section for prospective dangers, but I was afraid to show fear or weakness. I quickly scanned the aisle descriptions and found "fishing supplies". I ignored the pot-bellied employee with beady eyes staffing the gun counter and slipped noiselessly into the aisle. I had to be quick, he probably already alerted a camo-coated mulletman to come find me. Eureeka...near the front of the aisle I spotted a pile of clear tackle boxes. The mid-sized one looked perfect (it had tabs for me to create my own sections, it was slim for easy storage and had a handle for easy transport...ideal really) and cost about six bucks. I grabbed it and tip-toed back to the end of the aisle. I peered around to be sure the coast was clear. Off to my left was a burly man looking at gun racks...conveniently blocking my nearest exit. Without pause, I headed right and delved into the automotive section. I sped along the edge until I made it into the paint section. I wasn't safe just yet. I hurried down to the toiletries aisle, knowing no man would follow me into the tampon section. Surrounding me were bright colored boxes and bottles advertising cleanliness and freshness. I knew I had made it.

1 More Day

I fly back home to Ohio in just one day. In fact, in exactly 24 hours, I'll be leaving work to head to the airport. One of my favorite visits in Ohio is when I get to see Kaydence. I love all my friend's kids, but Kaydence is special. I am not sure why she is so special to me. Maybe because she was born 3 days after my birthday. Maybe because I met her when she was one day old. Maybe because the first time Tasha and I changed her diaper, it turned into fiasco where I cried from the smell and the laughter.

K always remembers me, even when I don't come home often. She wears her Wyoming cowgirl shirt when she knows I'm coming over. She sleeps with the quilt I made her, even if it's too hot. Plus she's just so darn cute.

How do they do it?

Every day at work, my boss and I copy the crossword from the paper, complete as much as possible, and compare our work. Since my memory is lodged into a more recent century, many clues and answers escape me. No, I didn't know the kid's nursery rhyme about Jack Sprat and his lardo wifey that originated in 1639. No, I had no clue that Mel Torme was a famous crooner. We're lucky I knew what crooner meant. So obviously I have my share of crossword angst.

Thursdays and Fridays crosswords are pretty challenging. I do fairly well, but definitely have more blanks than Wednesdays. My favorite thing now when I'm stumped is a blog called Diary of a Crossword Fiend. This person blogs every day with answers and explanations for four to six different crosswords they completed that very day. So ok, they finish four to six difficult crosswords and blog about it by the time I finish my lunch? How do they do it?? I can't even finish one by two pm. Ergh.