Happy Thought

I met B's wife for the first time the other day. She's one of those pleasant, peacefully happy types and she has a beautiful face etched by a lifetime of genuine smiles.

I told B how much I enjoyed talking to her, and he said, "I don't play the lottery because I've already won twice. Once was when I got married 29 years ago. The second time was when I started working here."

These critics are full of crap

Brokeback Mountain is a terrible movie.

I don't know if it was the initial violent drunken gay sex scene or the ongoing sexual and physical abuse of the women that horrified me worst, but it doesn't really matter. This is awful. I'm only finishing the movie because I already paid for it, and I figure nothing else they're going to show will haunt me as much as what I've already seen.

Poopsicles?

I got durian-flavored popsicles from the ethnic grocery because I wanted to see what all that fuss was about on The Travel Channel.

Good God... They taste like a frozen puree of an orange creamsicle and a salted onion. Sorry Bourdain, but I guess we're not MFEO after all.

Another Severe Weather Alert

For the love of God and all that is holy and good, please please please stop raining.

If not for the poor homeless people and bankrupt farmers, then please, do it for me, so that people at the lunch table will be forced to find something else to talk about.

I want a family.

Today I got up early, hit Ikea, 3 different malls and a Blockbuster. I was out walking and shopping for 8 full hours. I have slightly pink skin, one fabulous new top, a bag full of B&BW crap, and a Juno DVD.

I noticed today, though, several mothers in the malls pushing strollers with retarded kids in them. I'm not trying to be mean or disrespectful, but I saw 3 children with down syndrome, one child who was a dwarf, and another who had a visible mental handicap. All 5 mothers looked like they were maybe a few years older than me. Mid 30's or so.

I am so angry that having children at an older age increases the risk of having an unhealthy child.

Why am I worried about healthy children when I am still an unmarried 27 year old virgin?!

Or, wait, maybe that is why.

It's true.

Usually I get home from work and talk to the MF on the phone for a while and then we'll type online. Then I'll start getting ready for the next day. On the weekends, it fucking sucks. If the MF isn't coming out to visit I don't know what the fuck to do with myself. I walked to Kroger's and back tonight for a bottle of 7up.

He called for the first time in two days, while I was in the middle of writing this stupid effing blog entry, but could only talk for 10 minutes because he's on vacation with his family in the middle of buttfuckingnowhereland and the mosquitoes were eating him alive so he had to go back into whatever cabin he's staying in wherever the hell they are.

I need a fucking friend in this town. And yes, fine, you all win, and I will say it, for the first time since I moved here in April. The first time I am admitting it, even to myself:

I am lonely.

Green Thumbs

My sisters, mom and niece were out to visit this weekend. We went to Ikea and I bought a palm tree because they were on sale. J's palm tree died about a week after she bought it from the Ikea out by her but, for some reason, I thought I might want to try keeping one alive.

My mom called around 8:00 to let me know she was finally home from the drive, and I told her I'd re-potted the tree, and that it looked pretty healthy in the kitchen.

"Well, talk to it a lot. I told it today that you would."

What really keeps a tree alive, and is my mother depressed because she probably talked to my tree more than she talked to me this weekend?

More about money

What the hell is a 401K and should I have one?

Wealth, Health, Happiness, and an Audi TT

I thought a new car and wardrobe came with a new job.

What they don't tell you is that when you start working you won't have time to shop for new clothes, your starting salary doesn't come as a lump-sum check on your first day of work, student loan bills rise from the dead ISO your checkbook, and that saving for a down payment on a house appears nearly impossible.

I'm praying the Honda keeps going at least another 5 years.

And I thank God I have the implied "I'm a scientist" excuse for dressing frumpily at work.

Interns are Killing Me.

I was downtown at a short-course for business writing all day today. We were on the 11th floor of the GH, in a modest-sized classroom, sitting at tables that made up 3 legs of a square, with the professor walking around lecturing from the middle. We were encouraged to bring our laptops because there were three 15-minute periods of time during the 8-hour workday designated to practicing writing X or Y type memo. The rest of the day, most people half-closed their laptop lids, or put them away altogether, which I saw as a polite way to communicate to the professor that we were listening. Another polite thing that most people did was to look at the professor while he was talking.

The freaking girl next to me – who made it very well-known that she was an intern – kept her laptop open the entire time. Mainly because she was using it. I read one email she was writing to someone, who I assumed to be a roommate or at least a fellow intern, something about “chocolate covered strawberries and vanilla ice cream or mozzarella cheese with tomato and basil.” Then she signed on to a communication program similar to Instant Messenger to ask an intern how she liked the movie she saw last night. Then she started composing a mass-email to all the interns about an upcoming white water rafting trip. The next thing she did was the last straw for me, and the reason I’m posting any of this anyway. She freaking checked her Myspace page. Come on. Come on! A professor is lecturing 4 feet away from you, at a course that the company spent several hundred dollars for you to attend, and you feel compelled to see if one of your e-friends filled out some hot new survey.

Also another one of her emails said something like, “Here is an old version of my resume which helped me hope it helps.”

Now there’s someone who needs to be paying close attention during a course on writing.

For the love!

Insecurities

Top 5 things I'm insecure about, in no particular order:

5. Lacking any sense of fashion whatsoever
4. Seemingly having the wrong hair style/cut at any given time
3. Looking younger than I am (because of #4 and #5)
2. Lacking any sense of interior decorating
1. My cooking tastes horrible

I realized tonight that I'm not insecure about any of those things in my life I have zero control over. Such as my height, my crooked teeth, my skin... I don't care if I smile big and people see my crooked teeth. I am very much okay with being 5'2" even though my head was the most popular armrest in grades 6-12. When I get a zit I don't cover it up. Instead, I pick at it for months until it scars. But aren't most people insecure about things they can't change?

I could read magazines to improve on most of the things I feel so self-conscious about. But I don't. What is wrong with me?

I need new socks.

I know I do. I know. I am well aware that little colored socks with cats and dogs and candy canes and tool shapes and watering cans are not commonly worn by professional women at work. I know this. I do not like most of these socks. In fact, the majority were gifts from my mom on holidays. However, until I get some free time (and some energy) in the evening to drive to the mall before it closes, these are the only socks I have.

If one more person makes fun of my socks at work, I am going to cry.

Today it was an intern. A fucking ignorant 19-year-old intern, who had the audacity to even make a comment about anything relating to my appearance.

But it wasn't the kid's comment that really hurt my feelings. It was the teasing coming from my peers that really upset me.