While I made my usual rounds the blog-o-sphere, I was unexpectedly tagged by my lovely cousin at OneMomTwoBabies. In order to be un-tagged, I have to share 8 (?!?!?) of my most embarrassing moments. Here it goes:
1. Everyone has heard the song "It's Your Thing" but only few, namely my sister, have heard my rendition. Until my mid-teen years, whenever I heard the song, I would sing along in my head, no big deal...until one day I was feeling extra frisky and belted out the words along with radio or at least what I thought the words were...imagine my wonderful singing voice, full of passion calling out "PICTURE FRAME, do what you want to do..." Um, if anybody has a time machine please let me borrow it so I can tell my young self that picture frames cannot in fact do what they want to do...anyway, my sister was right there and she has yet to let me live that one down. I am not thankful that the song has been used for so many commercials.
2. Sometime during my middle school years, a large group of my girlfriends and I went to the theater to see "Hope Floats". If you have yet to see it (um, get with it!) it's a gut wrenching tale staring Sandra Bullock and Harry Connick Jr. Somewhere around the saddest, quietest part of the movie, I accidentally tooted. Of course every one's heads turned to me, yet somehow I was able to play the noise off. I think I whispered something along the lines of, "What? Nooooo...um, it was my straw rubbing on the lid. Why are still looking at me? Watch the movie!"
3. The first time I met Loverboy's family the two of us stayed at his parents house for the weekend. We had been together for only around a month so I did not know ahead of time how close he is with his sisters. Yada, yada, yada I had a few drinks yada, yada, yada I end up in his bedroom crying on the bed while mumbling something about his sister hating me. Needless to say, he told her about my actions so she brought it up and rubbed it in for the rest of the weekend.
4. I peed in my (light pink stretch) pants once in the 4th grade.
5. During my last visit with Loverboy, he somehow caught sight of armpits and it just so happened that I had a couple of the LONGEST armpit hairs I have ever seen on a woman located at the highest point of my pit. Everything else was smooth...somehow I just missed those few hairs [for a few months].
6. I still sleep with my baby pillow. I believe my mom washed it once about 12 years ago.
7. Yesterday I wore a pair of underwear that is at least 6 years old.
8. Speaking of panties...in middle school I received a chain letter, I believe from the same cousin that tagged me, that asked that the recipient send a pair of panties to the person on the top of the mailing list (or something along those lines). Anyway, I mailed out a pair and then instead of mailing out the chain letter, I handed it out to a few of my girlfriends at school. It turned out that one of the girls lost hers in the hallway and it was eventually found by the vice principal. Both my name and my friend's were on the letter so we were called into the office by the vice principal. He ended up giving us this long lecture about the inappropriateness of the letter on school grounds...yada, yada, yada...but all I can remember was getting so embarrassed every time he said panties. Panties, panties, panties! That's the whole conversation in a nutshell. Ahhh I was mortified! But now, I think it was quite humorous.
The end. Bee, if you read this, then tag, you're it!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Update: I'm Still in a Relationship...Tell the Creeps to Leave me Alone
Ok ok, so I didn't blog about my trip to Loverboy's, but guess what....I'm already going back on Monday so maybe by then I'll learn how to keep a promise and spill my guts about everything we did. The following are some random thoughts that come to my mind when I think about my visit a couple weeks ago: I shaved once before I left and once while I was there; his shower was clogged for the entire second day I was there*; I sat in on a math class at the university and out of 22 students there were only 2 girls (including me); his parents visited and took us out to an amazing dinner at an Italian style tapas restaurant; and...we cuddled. It was the perfect visit. Note: It would have been just perfect if it was not a visit, but since I was just visiting, it was in fact perfect (minus the slight b.o. I had acquired by the end of the second day oh and the fact that Auntie Flo decided to visit along with me...don't get me wrong, I love my aunts, but seriously, Aunt Flo, STOP VISITING ME WHEN I'M VISITING LOVERBOY!!)
I had my first non-missing-my-family/Loverboy/friends induced breakdown this weekend. It was, however, strongly alcohol induced. Some of the graduate students in the department planned a Happy Hour on Friday night for all of the graduate students and the department faculty. Well, only 10 or so of us showed up, 2 of which were professors. After sitting around a table drinking for an hour some of us got a little loose-lipped (at this point of the story, by us, I am referring to a professor). Out of pretty much nowhere (my opinion, maybe others saw where this was coming from), one of the students at the other end of the table yelled out to me, "Gyps, Dr. ____ (a professor, sitting right next to her, googling** at me) wants to know who in the department is attracted to you!"
Let me take a moment to explain how awkward this comment made me feel. First of all, everyone around the table put a hold to their conversation to hear what was being yelled across the table. In other words, everybody heard what she said. Second, Dr. ____ is that kind of old-guy creepy, you know, the kind of guy I would not feel all that comfortable being alone in a room with. Third, why the hell would he care who is attracted to me?!?!?! Naturally, I came up with a silly response to deflect the awkward attention...I yelled back, [my gay friend] Joe was the only guy that I knew that was clearly attracted to me. Giggles occurred all around, even from Joe and the awkwardness subsided.
As the evening progressed, the males [aka the majority] of the department stopped biting their tongues and started making [sexual-like] comments either to me or in reference about me. My favorite occurred after a male acquaintance struck up a conversation with me in front of two of the other males in the department. While I was talking to him, I heard this from the guys right next to me, "Oh man, we totally just got cock-blocked by him!" To those of you who do not know what the expression means, they meant that the guy was preventing them from making their moves on me that would [in their eyes] get me into bed with them. Insert a picture of me with a pissed off face here.
More and more comments like the above were thrown out by the end of the night and eventually some of the guys started putting their arms around me. I was not a fan of their behavior. I decided to do what any woman in my position would do, I went to the bathroom, peed, snuck over to our group to grab my coat and ran out of the bar avoiding all of the people shouting my name. In the process, I may have left my credit card behind with the bartender because my actions were unforeseen, I started a tab.
On my way home, I called my mom to tell her about my night and instead of explaining to her how upset I was, I decided to show her by getting nearly hysterical and bawling for almost a half hour. Just another wonderful weekend here. I feel so happy knowing that if things don't work out with Loverboy and me I could be harassed even more by the guys here. I hope the sarcasm was noted.
*I shaved before I got there so the tub was not clogged from me. He had taken a bath the day before to sweat out his cold and the tub wouldn't drain afterwards. It turned out he just had a little air bubble or something in his pipes and after I drained the dirty sink water from the dishes the bubble burst and the water drained. I was a hero.
**I'm not sure if googling can be used other than on a computer, but that was the word that I decided to use to describe the look on his face. It was a mixture of tipsy, creepy and interest. If you have a better word let me know.
I had my first non-missing-my-family/Loverboy/friends induced breakdown this weekend. It was, however, strongly alcohol induced. Some of the graduate students in the department planned a Happy Hour on Friday night for all of the graduate students and the department faculty. Well, only 10 or so of us showed up, 2 of which were professors. After sitting around a table drinking for an hour some of us got a little loose-lipped (at this point of the story, by us, I am referring to a professor). Out of pretty much nowhere (my opinion, maybe others saw where this was coming from), one of the students at the other end of the table yelled out to me, "Gyps, Dr. ____ (a professor, sitting right next to her, googling** at me) wants to know who in the department is attracted to you!"
Let me take a moment to explain how awkward this comment made me feel. First of all, everyone around the table put a hold to their conversation to hear what was being yelled across the table. In other words, everybody heard what she said. Second, Dr. ____ is that kind of old-guy creepy, you know, the kind of guy I would not feel all that comfortable being alone in a room with. Third, why the hell would he care who is attracted to me?!?!?! Naturally, I came up with a silly response to deflect the awkward attention...I yelled back, [my gay friend] Joe was the only guy that I knew that was clearly attracted to me. Giggles occurred all around, even from Joe and the awkwardness subsided.
As the evening progressed, the males [aka the majority] of the department stopped biting their tongues and started making [sexual-like] comments either to me or in reference about me. My favorite occurred after a male acquaintance struck up a conversation with me in front of two of the other males in the department. While I was talking to him, I heard this from the guys right next to me, "Oh man, we totally just got cock-blocked by him!" To those of you who do not know what the expression means, they meant that the guy was preventing them from making their moves on me that would [in their eyes] get me into bed with them. Insert a picture of me with a pissed off face here.
More and more comments like the above were thrown out by the end of the night and eventually some of the guys started putting their arms around me. I was not a fan of their behavior. I decided to do what any woman in my position would do, I went to the bathroom, peed, snuck over to our group to grab my coat and ran out of the bar avoiding all of the people shouting my name. In the process, I may have left my credit card behind with the bartender because my actions were unforeseen, I started a tab.
On my way home, I called my mom to tell her about my night and instead of explaining to her how upset I was, I decided to show her by getting nearly hysterical and bawling for almost a half hour. Just another wonderful weekend here. I feel so happy knowing that if things don't work out with Loverboy and me I could be harassed even more by the guys here. I hope the sarcasm was noted.
*I shaved before I got there so the tub was not clogged from me. He had taken a bath the day before to sweat out his cold and the tub wouldn't drain afterwards. It turned out he just had a little air bubble or something in his pipes and after I drained the dirty sink water from the dishes the bubble burst and the water drained. I was a hero.
**I'm not sure if googling can be used other than on a computer, but that was the word that I decided to use to describe the look on his face. It was a mixture of tipsy, creepy and interest. If you have a better word let me know.
Monday, October 22, 2007
IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!!
Attention, attention everyone...I am going to visit Loverboy this Wednesday! The day has (almost) finally arrived! [As I typed that I couldn't help but sing Europe's 1986 hit "The Final Countdown" to myself. If you've never heard the song, shame on you. I was only a year old when it came out and I still know the song. I suggest either downloading it or watching the complete 3 seasons of the late, great Arrested Development because every time Job gets on stage to do one of his magic shows he plays the song in the background...plus it is the greatest show ever!] [I should say that after I typed that I considered making this whole post about how awesome Arrested Development is. You should see for yourself. When you have free time and want to laugh, go here...P.S. make sure you have lots of free time because you are not going to want to stop watching.]
I don't remember what I wanted to write about now. Ah yes, I'm going to see Loverboy Wednesday! Speaking of Loverboys, I've decided I need to get some friends with their own. Here's why:
Saturday night my roomies and I went out to Stone Mountain's to watch the laser show. It was a beautiful night and I loved the idea of sitting with the girls watching the Park's rendition of "music videos" cast onto the slab of a mountain by lasers. We had planned the night about a week prior to going and throughout the week I had made it very clear that I would love to go out as long as I wasn't out too late because I had a lot of work to do over the weekend. I even offered to drive myself. Nah, one said, it won't be necessary. It's not like we're going to do anything afterwards, the other claimed. Little did I know...they were planning on meeting boys there (dressed in kilts, might I add but that is a whole different story in itself). During the cute little show I did not mind that I was pretty much sitting alone, but afterwards, when we just had to go back to the guys' campground to flirt with the guys, I minded. After nearly 2 hours of sitting by my lonesome (the girls were trying to mack on the guys and vice versa) we finally left so we could get home by 1 am. Insert picture of me scowling here.
The moral of the story is, if they weren't trying to hooch themselves out, I probably would have had a better time and let's face it, when Gypsy Queen has a good time, everyone has a good time. Know what I'm saying?
Speaking of hoochies, in lieu of my impending visit with Loverboy, I dyed my hair yesterday. It's so dark that when I looked in the mirror I thought I was my sister, which was probably not the best thought to have while making kissy faces at myself. I've also been using this lotion daily for about a week and a half so I finally don't look nearly transparent. I've also been playing around with the idea of shaving Wednesday morning too. Loverboy's got such a wonderful girlfriend ;) I'll try to blog about my visit when I get back...or not because, let's face it, there is a good chance that it will be a little risque for my readers.
I don't remember what I wanted to write about now. Ah yes, I'm going to see Loverboy Wednesday! Speaking of Loverboys, I've decided I need to get some friends with their own. Here's why:
Saturday night my roomies and I went out to Stone Mountain's to watch the laser show. It was a beautiful night and I loved the idea of sitting with the girls watching the Park's rendition of "music videos" cast onto the slab of a mountain by lasers. We had planned the night about a week prior to going and throughout the week I had made it very clear that I would love to go out as long as I wasn't out too late because I had a lot of work to do over the weekend. I even offered to drive myself. Nah, one said, it won't be necessary. It's not like we're going to do anything afterwards, the other claimed. Little did I know...they were planning on meeting boys there (dressed in kilts, might I add but that is a whole different story in itself). During the cute little show I did not mind that I was pretty much sitting alone, but afterwards, when we just had to go back to the guys' campground to flirt with the guys, I minded. After nearly 2 hours of sitting by my lonesome (the girls were trying to mack on the guys and vice versa) we finally left so we could get home by 1 am. Insert picture of me scowling here.
The moral of the story is, if they weren't trying to hooch themselves out, I probably would have had a better time and let's face it, when Gypsy Queen has a good time, everyone has a good time. Know what I'm saying?
Speaking of hoochies, in lieu of my impending visit with Loverboy, I dyed my hair yesterday. It's so dark that when I looked in the mirror I thought I was my sister, which was probably not the best thought to have while making kissy faces at myself. I've also been using this lotion daily for about a week and a half so I finally don't look nearly transparent. I've also been playing around with the idea of shaving Wednesday morning too. Loverboy's got such a wonderful girlfriend ;) I'll try to blog about my visit when I get back...or not because, let's face it, there is a good chance that it will be a little risque for my readers.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Hi My Name is Gypsy Queen and I'll be the one Standing in the Front of the Classroom...
Every Thursday for (roughly) the past 8 weeks I have stood in front of two classes full of students answering their questions about what they "learned" in class and discussing plans of attack to come up with solutions to their homework problems. I am a graduate assistant to two professors at the university. I have (somehow) taken the time to learn the first names of (most*) of the students, but today I realized that some have not bothered learning mine. How did I figure this out, you ask? Here's your answer:
Ok so one train is leaving Chicago at 4:13 pm at a speed of 51 mph and the other is leaving from Dallas at 8:07 am...wait a minute, wrong audience....Here's the answer I meant to give:
Ok so, I was sitting at my desk tonight minding my own business writing up my homework for tomorrow and all of the sudden my phone rings. A phone number came up that I did not recognize, sticking to my To Do List I answered it. Within the first 12 seconds I knew it was somebody looking for a tutor so being the money whore that I am (just currently, not usually) I jumped up in excitement nodding and saying Uh-huh Uh-huh to everything she said so as not to lose her. After about 3 nods (that she obviously could not see) I recognized her voice and placed her as one of my students. She continued our pseudo-conversation (at this point I still had only said Uh-huh Uh-huh) by saying, "I have this test tomorrow at 10:10 am and I've been cramming all night. I have a few loose ends I want to tie up so can you meet at 7:30 tomorrow morning?" At this point I was positive that she was one of my students. Needless to say, I was stunned: one of my students called me (without knowing who I was) and offered to pay me to meet with her the morning of her test (at 7:30 am!?!?!). I did what any self-respecting person would do and said I had class at 8:00 am so I couldn't (I really do have class at 8 so I didn't have to lie, but I could have obviously given her numerous different reasons). Then she hung up on me.
Moral of the story: she should have come to my office hours for a FREE tutoring session with me.
*By most of my students I mean the ones that actually show up.
Moral of the story: she should have come to my office hours for a FREE tutoring session with me.
*By most of my students I mean the ones that actually show up.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Running Backwards
Yesterday was a bad day. I knew it was going to be a bad day before I got out of bed. I woke up feeling the early symptoms of some lurking illness. It was too early for me to tell if I was getting a cold or the stomach flu. Yes, both have extremely different symptoms, but I really could not tell so I took a shot of orange juice then followed it with a dose of Pepto. As the day progressed I realized that it was in fact a cold. It's 80 degrees here!! How am I getting a cold? Then again, I seem to always get one in the summer so I can't be too shocked.
While I suffered through the day with my pre-cold, I took an in-class exam (aka my first "real" test in graduate school), taught a faux practice lesson in front of my peers, and paid my phone bill. I did not enjoy completing any of those tasks. As if I wasn't feeling low enough, one of my professors handed back a homework that we turned in last week. I did alright, but I was extremely pissed after comparing my grade with a peer that I helped out. His score was significantly better than mine, yet I helped him finish his the day it was turned in. It was due on Friday, but he thought it was due Monday so he came to school with slightly less than half of it complete. After I reminded him it was due that day, he freaked out so I offered to help with all of the problems he did not understand. Apparently, I communicate better orally than in writing.
When I finished at school I went to the store to stock up on different vitamins. As I walked in, it hit me that I was actually chasing the lows and running from the highs. My day wasn't so bad, I was just building it up to be that way. In some sick, twisted way I was making my day worse on purpose. As I walked through the aisles, I realized that it was not the first time that I've chased down the lows. I've done it before, but why? How could I think that I could make myself feel better by making myself feel bad? I hate to say this, but maybe it's a...female thing? My dad always calls it "feeling sorry for myself". He's right. That was what I was doing, but still, why does that make me feel [faux] good? After making myself feel low for most of the day, I decided to finally book my flight home for winter break.
My hypothesis: maybe I make myself feel low so that when I finally knock myself out of it, I feel much better about the things that I thought were crappy in my life prior. Example: I was holding off booking my flight home for winter break because I am having monetary issues. I was unnecessarily stressing myself out by avoiding the issue. After my bought of "Sorryness" yesterday, I finally came to terms with the fact that I needed help with my situation. This morning I woke up feeling boatloads better and as I got out of bed I knew that today was going to be a better day. So far, it has been better. I made a delicious turkey sandwich for lunch today and everyone knows [except for my roomies] how wonderful a delicious turkey sandwich can be. Oh, and I also picked up a student for tutoring. We are starting tomorrow, which means...I can pick up some groceries tomorrow! Yay, I don't have to eat spaghetti for the rest of the week!
While I suffered through the day with my pre-cold, I took an in-class exam (aka my first "real" test in graduate school), taught a faux practice lesson in front of my peers, and paid my phone bill. I did not enjoy completing any of those tasks. As if I wasn't feeling low enough, one of my professors handed back a homework that we turned in last week. I did alright, but I was extremely pissed after comparing my grade with a peer that I helped out. His score was significantly better than mine, yet I helped him finish his the day it was turned in. It was due on Friday, but he thought it was due Monday so he came to school with slightly less than half of it complete. After I reminded him it was due that day, he freaked out so I offered to help with all of the problems he did not understand. Apparently, I communicate better orally than in writing.
When I finished at school I went to the store to stock up on different vitamins. As I walked in, it hit me that I was actually chasing the lows and running from the highs. My day wasn't so bad, I was just building it up to be that way. In some sick, twisted way I was making my day worse on purpose. As I walked through the aisles, I realized that it was not the first time that I've chased down the lows. I've done it before, but why? How could I think that I could make myself feel better by making myself feel bad? I hate to say this, but maybe it's a...female thing? My dad always calls it "feeling sorry for myself". He's right. That was what I was doing, but still, why does that make me feel [faux] good? After making myself feel low for most of the day, I decided to finally book my flight home for winter break.
My hypothesis: maybe I make myself feel low so that when I finally knock myself out of it, I feel much better about the things that I thought were crappy in my life prior. Example: I was holding off booking my flight home for winter break because I am having monetary issues. I was unnecessarily stressing myself out by avoiding the issue. After my bought of "Sorryness" yesterday, I finally came to terms with the fact that I needed help with my situation. This morning I woke up feeling boatloads better and as I got out of bed I knew that today was going to be a better day. So far, it has been better. I made a delicious turkey sandwich for lunch today and everyone knows [except for my roomies] how wonderful a delicious turkey sandwich can be. Oh, and I also picked up a student for tutoring. We are starting tomorrow, which means...I can pick up some groceries tomorrow! Yay, I don't have to eat spaghetti for the rest of the week!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
A Little Anecdote that I Just Remembered
The calculus students that I help have online homework called WebWork. Whenever they have trouble with a problem, they can email the professor and [unbeknownst to them] it's emailed to me too. Well, WebWork can be a little tricky sometimes and it does not accept answers that are not entered in perfectly. Usually the emails are: "Um, Dr. ____, I know the answer to this problem is ___, but WebWork is not accepting it. Will you still give me credit?" His response is usually, "Um no, ____ your answer was wrong. You were missing ___." Anyway, I usually don't read the emails, because [to be completely honest] I don't really care, but today there was a really short one so as I moved the arrow to the big red X to delete it, I read:
Baaaaaaaahahaha! [cricket, cricket, cricket] Ok, ok that's not funny to most of you [if any], but when I read it I pictured the girl on the computer screen handing her homework a pumpkin pie so as to coerce it into accepting her answer.
*Pi [not pie] is a number and it's usually not [if ever] preceded by "a".
Teeheehee. "A pie"...hilarious!!!
Um, Dr. ____ how do I insert a "pie" into WebWork?*
Baaaaaaaahahaha! [cricket, cricket, cricket] Ok, ok that's not funny to most of you [if any], but when I read it I pictured the girl on the computer screen handing her homework a pumpkin pie so as to coerce it into accepting her answer.
*Pi [not pie] is a number and it's usually not [if ever] preceded by "a".
Teeheehee. "A pie"...hilarious!!!
How Many More of These do I Have to Take You Ask...
Test #1 down...I survived. It was a takehome test given to our class (ie 5 students) on Friday. It was not like the Yay Takehome Test Alright!! that we all loved in high school...wait did we get those in high school? I feel like I've been in school for so long that I cannot even correctly place when I did what. Anyway, it was a Son of a Bitch! No Books, No Notes, No Outside Sources Looong, Difficult Test. The rule was once we opened the [stapled closed] test, we could not open a book of any type, talk to anyone [or breathe] until we were done. I decided to take it in my office on Sunday morning [that was a lie. I decided to take it in the school library on Sunday morning, but apparently the school does not like students to study until 1 pm so I was forced to do it in my office]. When I finished I slid it under my professor's door and bolted out of the building.
We got our tests back today and I actually did better than I thought. After two days of picking out all of my mistakes in my head, I figured that I got somewhere around a 75. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the big, bold 77 on the top of the page!! To most, that would sound like a HORRIBLE score, but this is grad school bitches, my 77 was the second highest score [yes, out of 5 people, so what]! When I went to discuss the test with my professor, the best 4 [and a half, one was a contraction] words I've heard in months came out of his mouth, "You're really coming along." I needed that.
I have two more tests this week and then I am finally taking a break on Saturday. I finally caved and agreed to hang out with my fellow mathletes Saturday afternoon. I did not commit to staying for the night as I have yet to see what their idea of fun is. It's going to be tough for them to top my idea of a successful Saturday night...cleaning the house, calling Loverboy and passing out on the couch alone with an empty beer bottle [yes just one] on the coffee table in front of me.
I started running again last week. I'm [FINALLY] going to visit Loverboy in 22 days and I want to be physically fit just in case he happens to see my nakey. I'm slowly starting to realize that it's cheaper to produce my own energy through physical activity than buying Red Bull....slowly, I said. I found out today that one of the kids I've been tutoring transferred to another school and will not need me again until January. There goes my grocery money :( I wish that would have happened about 2 weeks ago. At that time I was getting emailed like crazy from students looking for tutors and silly me, I turned them down. I wonder if it would be weird for me to re-email them and ask if they are still looking. I'm going to do it if it is weird or not...I was just wondering, though.
Fun Fact [everybody take out a pen and paper and write this down]: A prime number greater than 1,000 digits long is called a TITANIC PRIME. To date there are approximately 5,000 certified [aka known] titanic primes.
We got our tests back today and I actually did better than I thought. After two days of picking out all of my mistakes in my head, I figured that I got somewhere around a 75. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the big, bold 77 on the top of the page!! To most, that would sound like a HORRIBLE score, but this is grad school bitches, my 77 was the second highest score [yes, out of 5 people, so what]! When I went to discuss the test with my professor, the best 4 [and a half, one was a contraction] words I've heard in months came out of his mouth, "You're really coming along." I needed that.
I have two more tests this week and then I am finally taking a break on Saturday. I finally caved and agreed to hang out with my fellow mathletes Saturday afternoon. I did not commit to staying for the night as I have yet to see what their idea of fun is. It's going to be tough for them to top my idea of a successful Saturday night...cleaning the house, calling Loverboy and passing out on the couch alone with an empty beer bottle [yes just one] on the coffee table in front of me.
I started running again last week. I'm [FINALLY] going to visit Loverboy in 22 days and I want to be physically fit just in case he happens to see my nakey. I'm slowly starting to realize that it's cheaper to produce my own energy through physical activity than buying Red Bull....slowly, I said. I found out today that one of the kids I've been tutoring transferred to another school and will not need me again until January. There goes my grocery money :( I wish that would have happened about 2 weeks ago. At that time I was getting emailed like crazy from students looking for tutors and silly me, I turned them down. I wonder if it would be weird for me to re-email them and ask if they are still looking. I'm going to do it if it is weird or not...I was just wondering, though.
Fun Fact [everybody take out a pen and paper and write this down]: A prime number greater than 1,000 digits long is called a TITANIC PRIME. To date there are approximately 5,000 certified [aka known] titanic primes.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Three Down....So Many More to Go
Please Note: I tried crossing the following off my To Do list, but I was not allowed to use strike-through: Return phone calls, Answer phone calls, and Listen to messages. I have been doing very well at these tasks [compared to before when I put them on my list]. I deleted them instead. Three tasks down...hooray for me!!
Live, From GA it's Saturday Night!!!
It's Saturday Night, yay....and I'm blogging. I went out last night so I'm not completely socially inept. Going out two nights in a row is so not me. I need the second night to reflect on the "fun" I had the night before. I know I'm young and I should enjoy going out, but I just feel very out of my element when I'm at loud bars with a bunch of people I still barely know.
Last night I went out with Roomie R. We met up with two of her [square] guy friends for a bit while we waited for my fabulous new [gay] best mathematician friend J and his boyfriend. After about 20 minutes at the bar Roomie R's friends ditched us to smoke some awesome stogies and reflect on the terrible time they had with two hot ladies [fyi, that's Roomie R and me]. GFJ (gay-friend J) and I had made plans earlier in the day to celebrate the fact that we finished our homework 15 minutes before class started yesterday. Plus, it was our best work yet and we were proud so we slammed our drinks (mine: a dark beer, his: something mixed with Malibu Rum) and cheered. It was great. I had a boat-load of fun with all of them, but we called it a night around midnight because I was up until about 3 the night before.
Why was up so late? Oh, you know, just getting my nightly exercise rolling around in bed. That's probably why I have such a nice figure. Note: by rolling, I literally mean rolling...no funny business whatsoever [unfortunately]. Speaking of funny business...Loverboy's friends are visiting him this weekend. I'm happy that he's getting some time with the guys, but I am also very jealous of all of them. I'm jealous that he gets to be with old friends and I'm jealous of them for getting to spend so much time with him.
I did my best to not, for lack of a better word, bother him yesterday. I called him once when I got out of class and then before I went out around 10 pm. When he answered, he was clearly at a bar, and all he said was, "Hey, can I call you back later?" I said sure and that was it. Throughout the day, I sent him maybe two text messages, which received no response. No biggie. Then right before I went to bed around 1 am, I sent him one that read, "That was a great talk we had today. Have a good weekend." Ok, ok I probably should have let it slide, but I had a couple drinks in me and I was hurt. I know he rarely gets to be with his friends, but to not call me or respond to me all day and night hurt. He always calls me to tell me he loves me and to say good night, why didn't he last night? It's no secret to his friends that we're in love and that I'm so far away. There was no reason he couldn't slip away for 2 minutes to call me. So yeah, I was pissed.
He called me twice this morning, but I missed both of the calls. When I called him later in the afternoon he apologized right away and all was fine. Then he told me about the parts of the night that he remembered...I thought about worrying for a brief moment and then I remembered that all I can do is trust him. I know how I am when I go out with my friends so I can only hope that he treats the women that come on to him the same way I treat the guys that come on to me...like a happily taken woman...and sometimes a bitch. FYI, if you're a strange guy, don't touch me!
One of Loverboy's friends, Stefan, and his girlfriend recently went on a break. When Loverboy told me earlier this week, he was so outraged by the idea of a break. He thought it was the silliest thing a couple could do and he compared it to a separation between a married couple. I, on the other hand, did not have as strong of feelings about the idea, until...last night when him and the guys went out, Stefan kissed some girl. So, is a break just another way of saying let's try out other people and see if we like it and if not let's get back together? If that is the case, then why doesn't Stefan suck it up, be a man and tell her that he wants to break up? Yeah, it was her idea to start the break, but if he was any kind of man at all he should have said, "No, let's just finish this and break up." Instead, he's probably going to wait until she finally says it. How silly is that? Answer: Very!
Last night I went out with Roomie R. We met up with two of her [square] guy friends for a bit while we waited for my fabulous new [gay] best mathematician friend J and his boyfriend. After about 20 minutes at the bar Roomie R's friends ditched us to smoke some awesome stogies and reflect on the terrible time they had with two hot ladies [fyi, that's Roomie R and me]. GFJ (gay-friend J) and I had made plans earlier in the day to celebrate the fact that we finished our homework 15 minutes before class started yesterday. Plus, it was our best work yet and we were proud so we slammed our drinks (mine: a dark beer, his: something mixed with Malibu Rum) and cheered. It was great. I had a boat-load of fun with all of them, but we called it a night around midnight because I was up until about 3 the night before.
Why was up so late? Oh, you know, just getting my nightly exercise rolling around in bed. That's probably why I have such a nice figure. Note: by rolling, I literally mean rolling...no funny business whatsoever [unfortunately]. Speaking of funny business...Loverboy's friends are visiting him this weekend. I'm happy that he's getting some time with the guys, but I am also very jealous of all of them. I'm jealous that he gets to be with old friends and I'm jealous of them for getting to spend so much time with him.
I did my best to not, for lack of a better word, bother him yesterday. I called him once when I got out of class and then before I went out around 10 pm. When he answered, he was clearly at a bar, and all he said was, "Hey, can I call you back later?" I said sure and that was it. Throughout the day, I sent him maybe two text messages, which received no response. No biggie. Then right before I went to bed around 1 am, I sent him one that read, "That was a great talk we had today. Have a good weekend." Ok, ok I probably should have let it slide, but I had a couple drinks in me and I was hurt. I know he rarely gets to be with his friends, but to not call me or respond to me all day and night hurt. He always calls me to tell me he loves me and to say good night, why didn't he last night? It's no secret to his friends that we're in love and that I'm so far away. There was no reason he couldn't slip away for 2 minutes to call me. So yeah, I was pissed.
He called me twice this morning, but I missed both of the calls. When I called him later in the afternoon he apologized right away and all was fine. Then he told me about the parts of the night that he remembered...I thought about worrying for a brief moment and then I remembered that all I can do is trust him. I know how I am when I go out with my friends so I can only hope that he treats the women that come on to him the same way I treat the guys that come on to me...like a happily taken woman...and sometimes a bitch. FYI, if you're a strange guy, don't touch me!
One of Loverboy's friends, Stefan, and his girlfriend recently went on a break. When Loverboy told me earlier this week, he was so outraged by the idea of a break. He thought it was the silliest thing a couple could do and he compared it to a separation between a married couple. I, on the other hand, did not have as strong of feelings about the idea, until...last night when him and the guys went out, Stefan kissed some girl. So, is a break just another way of saying let's try out other people and see if we like it and if not let's get back together? If that is the case, then why doesn't Stefan suck it up, be a man and tell her that he wants to break up? Yeah, it was her idea to start the break, but if he was any kind of man at all he should have said, "No, let's just finish this and break up." Instead, he's probably going to wait until she finally says it. How silly is that? Answer: Very!
Friday, September 7, 2007
Finally, I (kinda) Know How to Add
While talking to my mom the other day, I noticed she was trying to hint that her and my dad might not be home for Thanksgiving this year. Her hint: "...work won't be too busy in November...your dad has business trips that month...I'll probably go with...so we might not be home for Thanksgiving." She's very subtle. Of course she decided to tell me this after I told her that I have Wed-Fri of school that week so I could actually fly home Tuesday night. Bubble burster. Later that night, after telling Loverboy and my roomies about my disappointment, they all invited me to their families' Thanksgiving celebrations. My frown turned upside down...temporarily. It's a little Catch-22 (one of Loverboy's favorite books, I personally dislike it) situation: if I go to Loverboy's parents house, my mom might get a little jealous; if I celebrate with one of my roomies, the other might get jealous; if I stay home...alone, I will be sad. Then I thought, maybe we could have something at our house. Yeah, we should have something at our house...I wonder if there is turkey flavored tofu. That is my worst idea ever!!! Celebrating Thanksgiving with vegetarians?!?!?! What is wrong with me?!?!?! Luckily Thanksgiving is over 2 months away so I have time to let everyone (other than the lucky family that gets to sit across from me at the dinner table) down slowly.
Speaking of me having silly thoughts...Yesterday, during my second calculus recitation, I was working a problem out on the board when the following happened:
(a little backstory) I work out all of the students' homework problems before the recitations so I am "prepared" for their questions. I have access to the answers to each problem, but I have to work them out myself (which isn't bad because I've been doing this stuff for years). Now to the story...there was one problem on the homework that I worked out several different ways and kept getting the same answer that was different than the solution given to me. Of course, the students asked me to work that problem out for them. I decided to be honest with them and I said, I had worked it out several times and I kept getting the wrong answer so I offered to show them what I did and asked that they check my work. They agreed so I wrote it all out and explained my reasoning for each step and I came up the same answer: x+17.
I asked the students if they could find anything wrong with what I did, and nobody could. I then proceeded to stand there for nearly a minute to check again. Then, I looked down at the answer sheet, and read the "correct" answer aloud, "Apparently, the correct answer is 12+x+5. I don't know what I...oh, heh, I know what I did...(under my breath) got this far without learning how to add." Lesson of the day: 12+x+5=x+17!!!!
Speaking of me having silly thoughts...Yesterday, during my second calculus recitation, I was working a problem out on the board when the following happened:
(a little backstory) I work out all of the students' homework problems before the recitations so I am "prepared" for their questions. I have access to the answers to each problem, but I have to work them out myself (which isn't bad because I've been doing this stuff for years). Now to the story...there was one problem on the homework that I worked out several different ways and kept getting the same answer that was different than the solution given to me. Of course, the students asked me to work that problem out for them. I decided to be honest with them and I said, I had worked it out several times and I kept getting the wrong answer so I offered to show them what I did and asked that they check my work. They agreed so I wrote it all out and explained my reasoning for each step and I came up the same answer: x+17.
I asked the students if they could find anything wrong with what I did, and nobody could. I then proceeded to stand there for nearly a minute to check again. Then, I looked down at the answer sheet, and read the "correct" answer aloud, "Apparently, the correct answer is 12+x+5. I don't know what I...oh, heh, I know what I did...(under my breath) got this far without learning how to add." Lesson of the day: 12+x+5=x+17!!!!
Thursday, September 6, 2007
My Grandmother Walks with God...jealous?
Loverboy left two days ago. It just hit me how sad that makes me. We had such a great time together that my joyous state lasted until just now...or I have been trying to keep myself as busy as possible so I could block all thoughts other than the task at hand.
Like I said, we had a great time. We went to a university football game (our first), walked around downtown, had library dates (we're sick, I know), kissed a bunch, held hands, slept in, and sat around together as if it was a normal occurrence. I am NOT enjoying this sitting around along thing. I need to carry a picture of him around with me so I can sit him next to me. I like glancing up everyone now and then and smiling at him.
His flight got in soooo much later than expected last Wednesday. We got home around 1:30 am. Of course, we could not fall asleep without some much needed kissing and cuddling so we didn't get to bed until extremely late [reminder: I like to go to bed around 10:30]. Kissing him felt so weird at first. It didn't feel normal until later in the afternoon of the next day. It was as if we had forgotten how. On top of forgetting what to do, I was nervous. I shouldn't have been, but I had put so much thought into what those kisses would be like and built it up so much in my head that there was no way I could meet my expectations. It turns out he was nervous too. How cute.
I am so proud of myself...I only teared up twice while he was here*. I cried the first night while we were in bed, but they were tears of joy. I looked up at him as he was holding me, right before we fell asleep, and I started crying because it felt so good to be with him again. I cried right before we left for the airport on Tuesday. I received a card from my grandmother that day and I saw it as we were walking out, and silly me, I decided to open it before we left. As I stood in the kitchen reading it aloud for Loverboy and Roomie R, I started sobbing like a basketcase. Honestly, who has cried from reading a card?!?!? This is what it said:
Like I said, we had a great time. We went to a university football game (our first), walked around downtown, had library dates (we're sick, I know), kissed a bunch, held hands, slept in, and sat around together as if it was a normal occurrence. I am NOT enjoying this sitting around along thing. I need to carry a picture of him around with me so I can sit him next to me. I like glancing up everyone now and then and smiling at him.
His flight got in soooo much later than expected last Wednesday. We got home around 1:30 am. Of course, we could not fall asleep without some much needed kissing and cuddling so we didn't get to bed until extremely late [reminder: I like to go to bed around 10:30]. Kissing him felt so weird at first. It didn't feel normal until later in the afternoon of the next day. It was as if we had forgotten how. On top of forgetting what to do, I was nervous. I shouldn't have been, but I had put so much thought into what those kisses would be like and built it up so much in my head that there was no way I could meet my expectations. It turns out he was nervous too. How cute.
I am so proud of myself...I only teared up twice while he was here*. I cried the first night while we were in bed, but they were tears of joy. I looked up at him as he was holding me, right before we fell asleep, and I started crying because it felt so good to be with him again. I cried right before we left for the airport on Tuesday. I received a card from my grandmother that day and I saw it as we were walking out, and silly me, I decided to open it before we left. As I stood in the kitchen reading it aloud for Loverboy and Roomie R, I started sobbing like a basketcase. Honestly, who has cried from reading a card?!?!? This is what it said:
A Walk with God
I walked with God this morning,
at the dawn of a new day,
We walked and talked together
and laughed along the way.
I told Him all my hopes and dreams,
I knew He'd understand
and I felt my worries drift away
with my hand held in His hand.
He smiled and joyous sunshine
seemed to sparkle everywhere...
I walked with God this morning
through the miracle of prayer!
When you feel alone
with your burdens,
remember that God is with you
in every prayer.
I have received 22 years worth of Grandmother cards like the one above and not once did I shed a tear. I don't know of anybody else that has. The card was sent and received at the perfect moment. Usually we send and receive cards during holidays and birthdays so even though we spend time picking them out and thinking about the receiver, all meaning is lost after it's read. This card, however, was sent out of nowhere...it was special and it made me feel special. It wasn't a card sent out to the masses. It wasn't lost amongst all the other cards sent to me (as there were none). It sat all alone, waiting to tell me that somebody was thinking of me.
*And bawled only 3 times on my way home from the airport. I think that's pretty good.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Oh Weather, Once Again, You Got the Best of Me!!!
What are the odds that Loverboy's flight gets cancelled? If you asked me yesterday I would have said there's no chance in hell. Ask me now....I'd say they're pretty good seeing that it happened. Fuck you god of thunder!!! I was very excited when I got a text message today while I was in the library that said "My flight was cancelled."
My response: "Don't mess with me."
His: "I'm serious."
Mine: "Seriously babe? If you're joking I'm going to be pissed!"
His: "I said I was serious. I'm standing in line to figure things out."
Mine: (thump, thump, thump)
My heart just started racing as fast as possible. I honestly thought I was going to start crying or screaming or something nonpublic-friendly. I waited for him to call me back, and when he did, he said in an easy-going tone, "I'm going to be a little late tonight, Honey. I'm flying from ____ airport instead so I won't be landing until 10:15."
I'm honestly not the least bit surprised that things turned out the way they did. What a kick in the pants though, huh? We have been waiting to see each other for over a month now, what's two more hours*?
Instead of leaving for the airport right now, like I had planned, I am sitting in my office computing the next prime number after 10^a where a=100, 200, 300, ...., 2000. It's an assignment that is supposed to get us acquainted to a mathematical software. It is really taking no skill on my part to type the command in. It is however, taking my time while it's computing the number. This is not fun.
*Answer: an eternity
My response: "Don't mess with me."
His: "I'm serious."
Mine: "Seriously babe? If you're joking I'm going to be pissed!"
His: "I said I was serious. I'm standing in line to figure things out."
Mine: (thump, thump, thump)
My heart just started racing as fast as possible. I honestly thought I was going to start crying or screaming or something nonpublic-friendly. I waited for him to call me back, and when he did, he said in an easy-going tone, "I'm going to be a little late tonight, Honey. I'm flying from ____ airport instead so I won't be landing until 10:15."
I'm honestly not the least bit surprised that things turned out the way they did. What a kick in the pants though, huh? We have been waiting to see each other for over a month now, what's two more hours*?
Instead of leaving for the airport right now, like I had planned, I am sitting in my office computing the next prime number after 10^a where a=100, 200, 300, ...., 2000. It's an assignment that is supposed to get us acquainted to a mathematical software. It is really taking no skill on my part to type the command in. It is however, taking my time while it's computing the number. This is not fun.
*Answer: an eternity
Monday, August 27, 2007
Sugar and Molasses!!! Oh, Ruthie
Isn't it weird how our memories work? Why is it that I can never remember the things I am supposed to when the time calls for it? Why is it that I recall the most random memories at the most random moments?
This weekend, I realized I had a little extra money than I had thought so I decided to go to Wal-mart and buy a vacuum I found on sale. Obviously, there were other factors that went into that decision: we have two cats and no vacuum, our carpets are dirty, we apparently have cockroaches living with us, Loverboy is coming to visit this week (YIPPEE!) and I don't want him to think I'm not domesticated enough, oh and we have two cats and no vacuum. When I walked into the store, I got this flashback of the times my family would go to Wal-mart when I was a kid. I kept replaying the handful of times we went to the same store and went to the same cashier. Her name was Ruthie and she was blonde and wore really thick glasses and whenever she messed up she would say "Sugar and molasses!" For awhile after our first encounter with her, my sister and I would repeat after her when we were joking around. I had to have been around 7 or 8 at the time so it's funny that I remember her.
Anyway, I bought a vacuum!!! It is technically my first appliance (I bought a toaster oven and when I found out my roomies already had one, I gave it to Loverboy to break in before we move in together). It's a bagless Bissell. I put it together as soon as I got home and went to work on my bedroom. The canister was full after just vacuuming my room!! I was disgusted with myself for not realizing I had been living amongst all that filth for the past few weeks. After I finished my room, I went to work on the rest of the downstairs, which is a combination of a living room and dining room and a small entrance way. Once again, I had filled the canister. It was amazing how much the vacuuming had transformed the downstairs. I'm thinking about doing it once more before Loverboy gets here on Wednesday. We'll see.
I have my first homework date tonight! It's with a guy named Joe. Don't worry, he's not attracted to females and I'm not attracted to anybody other than Loverboy (nor am I attracted to males that are not attracted to females). We have 3 classes together so he is my bffn (best friend for now; I learned that on the Sweet Sixteen movie on MTV) in the mathematics department.
For the second weekend in a row, one of my roomies got so trashed that she had to be taken care of. Last weekend it was Skinny P and this weekend it Southern R, the college football loving, boy crazy roomie. She went to one of her friends houses to hang out and eat pizza, but in a bout of feeling sorry for herself (she's not married yet and therefore cannot f*ck...her exact words when she drunk dialed me) she drank at least 2 bottles of wine by herself. Luckily, she got all the vomit out before she was dropped off at home. She was by far the funniest drunk person I have been around in a long time. One instance of her funny behavior: she wore a dress that night and, as I am assuming most southern girls do, she wore a slip skirt under the dress. As soon as she walked in the door, we took her soaked dress (soaked from falling in the yard) off of her and sat her down so we could put a shirt on her. She refused to let us put a shirt on and in defiance, she stood up then quickly fell over the arm of the couch, revealing the fact that she was not wearing undies under her slip. Skinny P and I could do nothing but laugh so hard that we cried. That was the first time I got a kick out of taking care a drunk friend.
This weekend, I realized I had a little extra money than I had thought so I decided to go to Wal-mart and buy a vacuum I found on sale. Obviously, there were other factors that went into that decision: we have two cats and no vacuum, our carpets are dirty, we apparently have cockroaches living with us, Loverboy is coming to visit this week (YIPPEE!) and I don't want him to think I'm not domesticated enough, oh and we have two cats and no vacuum. When I walked into the store, I got this flashback of the times my family would go to Wal-mart when I was a kid. I kept replaying the handful of times we went to the same store and went to the same cashier. Her name was Ruthie and she was blonde and wore really thick glasses and whenever she messed up she would say "Sugar and molasses!" For awhile after our first encounter with her, my sister and I would repeat after her when we were joking around. I had to have been around 7 or 8 at the time so it's funny that I remember her.
Anyway, I bought a vacuum!!! It is technically my first appliance (I bought a toaster oven and when I found out my roomies already had one, I gave it to Loverboy to break in before we move in together). It's a bagless Bissell. I put it together as soon as I got home and went to work on my bedroom. The canister was full after just vacuuming my room!! I was disgusted with myself for not realizing I had been living amongst all that filth for the past few weeks. After I finished my room, I went to work on the rest of the downstairs, which is a combination of a living room and dining room and a small entrance way. Once again, I had filled the canister. It was amazing how much the vacuuming had transformed the downstairs. I'm thinking about doing it once more before Loverboy gets here on Wednesday. We'll see.
I have my first homework date tonight! It's with a guy named Joe. Don't worry, he's not attracted to females and I'm not attracted to anybody other than Loverboy (nor am I attracted to males that are not attracted to females). We have 3 classes together so he is my bffn (best friend for now; I learned that on the Sweet Sixteen movie on MTV) in the mathematics department.
For the second weekend in a row, one of my roomies got so trashed that she had to be taken care of. Last weekend it was Skinny P and this weekend it Southern R, the college football loving, boy crazy roomie. She went to one of her friends houses to hang out and eat pizza, but in a bout of feeling sorry for herself (she's not married yet and therefore cannot f*ck...her exact words when she drunk dialed me) she drank at least 2 bottles of wine by herself. Luckily, she got all the vomit out before she was dropped off at home. She was by far the funniest drunk person I have been around in a long time. One instance of her funny behavior: she wore a dress that night and, as I am assuming most southern girls do, she wore a slip skirt under the dress. As soon as she walked in the door, we took her soaked dress (soaked from falling in the yard) off of her and sat her down so we could put a shirt on her. She refused to let us put a shirt on and in defiance, she stood up then quickly fell over the arm of the couch, revealing the fact that she was not wearing undies under her slip. Skinny P and I could do nothing but laugh so hard that we cried. That was the first time I got a kick out of taking care a drunk friend.
Monday, August 20, 2007
As If The Open Cans of Cat Food Wasn't Enough...
After a day of working on homework and attending classes, I came home to find my roomie P sitting on the couch, in her pajamas and reading a book. No big deal, right? Because of her choice of clothing, I am assuming she has not left the house yet. Again, no big deal, right? Then, WHY THE HELL HASN'T SHE PICKED UP ANY OF HER SHIT?!?!? I didn't mind taking the garbage can and recycling bins to the road last night. I didn't mind bringing them back up to the house when I got home today. I didn't really mind when there was still items that needed to be recycled sitting around the house this morning after I asked the two of them to bring them out. I was able to bring them out to the bins before the recycling was picked up.
I do mind, however, when P's to-go cup from last night's Sonic* visit is sitting next to the couch. Wanna know what is next to the cup? I'll tell you, an avocado! Why the hell is there an avocado in the living room? The kitchen is honestly 5 steps away. The table is even closer. Setting the avocado on the coffee table would be an improvement, but seriously, why is it on the floor?
I also mind when I go into the kitchen to make a piece of toast and get sidetracked by the GINORMOUS COCKROACH crawling on the counter. I'm really excited that she didn't seem phased by my screaming. Really excited. I don't mind picking up after something that we all contributed to, but I will be damned if I pick up after her.
I do mind, however, when P's to-go cup from last night's Sonic* visit is sitting next to the couch. Wanna know what is next to the cup? I'll tell you, an avocado! Why the hell is there an avocado in the living room? The kitchen is honestly 5 steps away. The table is even closer. Setting the avocado on the coffee table would be an improvement, but seriously, why is it on the floor?
I also mind when I go into the kitchen to make a piece of toast and get sidetracked by the GINORMOUS COCKROACH crawling on the counter. I'm really excited that she didn't seem phased by my screaming. Really excited. I don't mind picking up after something that we all contributed to, but I will be damned if I pick up after her.
Meat=Bad but Smoking=Good?
For the past few days, I have been considering the oddities that are my roommates. Once again, they are vegetarians. The following observations are pretty much just based on one of the roomies, P:
Oh yeah, I feel better now. Time for class.
- If a person vows not to put the horribleness that is meat into her body, then how can she see it fit to smoke? I smoke (occasionally now, hooray!) as well so I can see some of the appeal, but I don't discuss meat as if it will give me some horrible disease.
- Going along with that, how can a person that thinks meat is disgusting feed her cats half a can of wet food then leave the can and the rest of its contents on the counter with one of her spoons in it and not think anything of it? She eats of that spoon and yet it does not bother her that it was resting a pile of wet, meaty cat food for the better part of a weekend. Sidenote: I couldn't stand walking into the kitchen with the can there after about a day so I chucked it into the garbage. I apologize for not recycling the can.
- How can a person that eats so little, make such a huge mess in the kitchen? Is it to prove that she does in fact eat at least once a day? Well, P, I got the message, you can start rinsing out your dishes and putting them into the dishwasher!
Oh yeah, I feel better now. Time for class.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Day One: Complete
I had my first class today! After my class, I had to TEACH two sections of calculus recitation. Today was the only day I will have to teach this semester. For the rest of the semester, the recitation will just be an extra meeting time for the calculus students to get help, ask me questions, go over homework problems...I'm like their tutor, but as a class instead of one on one. I was lucky enough to meet with the classes before they had regular session with their professors so I had to teach/review precalculus with them. It went well. My nerves were acting up during the first class, but they calmed down for the second.
The first class had somewhere around 40 students. There was an abundance of jocks (my perception, they could just be regular guys, but they looked "jockish"). For some reason I have always let the jocks intimidate me. All through junior high and high school I let them make me feel inferior. I have no idea why. Then during undergrad I went to a small school and although there were jocks, they were not popular because all of our teams sucked. Now I'm back at a big school and our football team is apparently the best in the state. I could care less if we had a good team. I could care less if a person is on it, yet I still let them intimidate me. Maybe I have some repressed memories of jocks tormenting me when I was younger. Who knows? I just have to remind myself that when they are in the classroom with me, they are in my stadium. I am their coach...plus they're at least 4 years younger than me. When they're struggling with their homework, I'll be struggling with mine while legally drinking a glass of wine or a beer.
I finally have plans for this weekend! The math department is having a picnic tomorrow night so a handful of the grad students are going out for some [cheap] drinks beforehand and they asked me to go with. It's going to be a rocking good time. A bunch of mathematicians drinking together. Oh the hijinks we could get into. Please note the sarcastic tone in which I type this. I'll make sure to post examples of how awesome we are.
Tonight I am going out to a Mexican restaurant with one of my roomies and her friend. Hooray for steak tacos and cheap margaritas...and late classes that allow me to sleep of a potential hangover!!
The first class had somewhere around 40 students. There was an abundance of jocks (my perception, they could just be regular guys, but they looked "jockish"). For some reason I have always let the jocks intimidate me. All through junior high and high school I let them make me feel inferior. I have no idea why. Then during undergrad I went to a small school and although there were jocks, they were not popular because all of our teams sucked. Now I'm back at a big school and our football team is apparently the best in the state. I could care less if we had a good team. I could care less if a person is on it, yet I still let them intimidate me. Maybe I have some repressed memories of jocks tormenting me when I was younger. Who knows? I just have to remind myself that when they are in the classroom with me, they are in my stadium. I am their coach...plus they're at least 4 years younger than me. When they're struggling with their homework, I'll be struggling with mine while legally drinking a glass of wine or a beer.
I finally have plans for this weekend! The math department is having a picnic tomorrow night so a handful of the grad students are going out for some [cheap] drinks beforehand and they asked me to go with. It's going to be a rocking good time. A bunch of mathematicians drinking together. Oh the hijinks we could get into. Please note the sarcastic tone in which I type this. I'll make sure to post examples of how awesome we are.
Tonight I am going out to a Mexican restaurant with one of my roomies and her friend. Hooray for steak tacos and cheap margaritas...and late classes that allow me to sleep of a potential hangover!!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
I Wonder Where I Can Buy a Kite
Why aren't playgrounds made for adults? I wish I could just run across the street and sit on a swing without it breaking. I would pump my legs just as my dad taught me when I was young and forget about everything while letting the wind hit my face and blow my hair back. Instead, we have theme parks made for us. Don't get me wrong, theme parks are great, but they have nothing on playgrounds. I don't want to pay $50+ to wait in a line for 2 hours for a 30 second thrill. All anticipation is lost while waiting in line. That should count for half the fun!
I can remember the way my heart pounded when I was a kid as I climbed up the stairs to go down the big slide. I remember the fear of knowing that nobody would be down there to catch me when I came down. I also remember knowing that I would be fine when I landed.
I have that same fear now. Nobody is standing at the end waiting to catch me. I do not know what will happened when I land. No adult does. Dammit! That is why we need playgrounds so we can release some of this fear.
I signed up for my first classes as a graduate student today. I have a full schedule as I suspected. I'm not nervous about the classes. I'm nervous about becoming an adult. I'm nervous about being alone. I'm nervous about losing the few strong relationships I have been lucky enough to make back home.I wonder if it would have been better for me to move away as an undergrad. I am glad I didn't move away while I was an undergrad. If I had, then I would not be anywhere near where I am today (emotionally...not physically).
As if choosing which classes would consume my life for the next few months wasn't hard enough, the University had to make it even more strenuous. I signed online to click the courses I want and immediately I was kicked off. I was FLAGGED! Instant reaction: WHAAA??!!? WTF?!?!? Then I noticed the tiny red letter at the bottom of the screen that said "Click me if you want to get pissed" (not quite, but it's my story). I clicked on the red letters to find out that the Health Center did not have any of Chicken Pox records. Instant reaction: WHAAA??!!? WTF?!?!? I paid (maybe?) to have my old university fax my records over in June, why wasn't that on there? I know I had the pox, I might be able to find some scars if I looked hard enough. Maybe I have a picture? After desperately waiting on hold for 10 minutes just to get hung up on, I called back to talk to the head honcho of medical records at the Health Center. She finally took of the flag on my account and let me register, but as usual there is a catch...I have to submit to a blood test tomorrow so they can test it for the pox.
There you have it...I had to shed blood, sweat and [many] tears to get here so this better damn well be worth it!
Peace on Earth. <-------I'm trying to fit in with the tree-huggers here.
I can remember the way my heart pounded when I was a kid as I climbed up the stairs to go down the big slide. I remember the fear of knowing that nobody would be down there to catch me when I came down. I also remember knowing that I would be fine when I landed.
I have that same fear now. Nobody is standing at the end waiting to catch me. I do not know what will happened when I land. No adult does. Dammit! That is why we need playgrounds so we can release some of this fear.
I signed up for my first classes as a graduate student today. I have a full schedule as I suspected. I'm not nervous about the classes. I'm nervous about becoming an adult. I'm nervous about being alone. I'm nervous about losing the few strong relationships I have been lucky enough to make back home.
As if choosing which classes would consume my life for the next few months wasn't hard enough, the University had to make it even more strenuous. I signed online to click the courses I want and immediately I was kicked off. I was FLAGGED! Instant reaction: WHAAA??!!? WTF?!?!? Then I noticed the tiny red letter at the bottom of the screen that said "Click me if you want to get pissed" (not quite, but it's my story). I clicked on the red letters to find out that the Health Center did not have any of Chicken Pox records. Instant reaction: WHAAA??!!? WTF?!?!? I paid (maybe?) to have my old university fax my records over in June, why wasn't that on there? I know I had the pox, I might be able to find some scars if I looked hard enough. Maybe I have a picture? After desperately waiting on hold for 10 minutes just to get hung up on, I called back to talk to the head honcho of medical records at the Health Center. She finally took of the flag on my account and let me register, but as usual there is a catch...I have to submit to a blood test tomorrow so they can test it for the pox.
There you have it...I had to shed blood, sweat and [many] tears to get here so this better damn well be worth it!
Peace on Earth. <-------I'm trying to fit in with the tree-huggers here.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Back by Popular Demand
Where do I begin...?
I took my preliminary exam today. A group of 5 graduate advisers will grade it over the weekend and on Monday they will be meeting with us 12 new graduate students to advise us on which classes we should enroll in. Earlier this week I feared that after they looked at my work they would tell me on Monday to go back to undergrad. My books/notes/completed homework from past math classes didn't arrive here until Tuesday and Sexy Lady didn't leave until Wednesday night so I didn't start studying* for the test until Thursday (yesterday) morning.
The test is over ha (insert a huge smile here), and I survived. Afterwards I went for a 15 minute jog to relieve some of the built up tension in my body. I could only go for 15 minutes for several reasons:
*The proper term here would actually be cramming.
I took my preliminary exam today. A group of 5 graduate advisers will grade it over the weekend and on Monday they will be meeting with us 12 new graduate students to advise us on which classes we should enroll in. Earlier this week I feared that after they looked at my work they would tell me on Monday to go back to undergrad. My books/notes/completed homework from past math classes didn't arrive here until Tuesday and Sexy Lady didn't leave until Wednesday night so I didn't start studying* for the test until Thursday (yesterday) morning.
The test is over ha (insert a huge smile here), and I survived. Afterwards I went for a 15 minute jog to relieve some of the built up tension in my body. I could only go for 15 minutes for several reasons:
- I'm in the South and it's hotter than Hades
- My legs were still sore from the jog I took yesterday
- Yesterday was the first time I jogged in about 2 months
- My neighborhood is full of hills
- I haven't cut back on smoking yet
I am trying to get back into shape, not so much for aesthetic reasons, but because I feel like a blob. Plus, my roommates are gone this weekend so there really could be no better time to start. If I didn't go for that jog today, I probably would have plopped on the couch, turned on the TV and cracked open a nice cold Miller Lite. Then, I would have gotten pissed because the TV shows I am used to watching at this time would not be on because of the time difference. Like how I made that 15 minute jog seem more beneficial than it was? I need to do that so I can talk myself into going more.
Since I don't really know anybody around here yet and my roommates are out of town, I don't have much to do this weekend. My only plans are to study (which is pretty broad because I don't know what classes I will be taking yet) and check out the university's workout facilities. I'm also trying to come up with a way to train my roommates' cats to not jump onto the bathroom sink while I'm brushing my teeth. Sidenote: If you are planning on coming here and using my bathroom, make sure you close the door hard enough until you hear a click. Otherwise one, maybe two, cats with push the door open while you're on the toilet and everyone else is in the other room. P.S. the door is more than an arm's length away from the toilet.
I had a mild case of homesickness on Tuesday. I thought I was over it until I woke up Wednesday morning with a crusty bloodshot eye. It had been bothering me all summer, but not that bad. Instead of going to a water park like we planned, Sexy Lady and I spent 2 hours at the Medical Center. I felt horrible. I should have had my eye looked at while I was at home, but I denied that there was a problem. After a summer of on and off redness in my left eye and 2 hours in the Medical Center, I found out I had a horrible case of pinkeye with a heap of allergies piled on top. That was two days ago and the white of my eye is back to the color it should be...white. All is well again.*The proper term here would actually be cramming.
Monday, August 6, 2007
I'm Happy Being Stationary
I made it! After spending the entire weekend driving, I'm finally here! The first day of driving was a piece of cake. Sexy Lady and I hopped in the car (wherever we could find room), popped in book on cd and didn't look back (not by choice on my part, my things were blocking my view out of the rear window). That night we stayed at a cousin's house in Kentucky. Sidenote: All of the highways there start with KY-... and they never failed to make me laugh. We woke up at 8 the next day, which would be 7 my "original" time, and were on the road by 9 am. That was yesterday. We drove through 3 states yesterday and they ALL SUCKED! The sucked for different reasons of course. Lessons I learned on the trip:
- Yellow caution signs with "suggested" mileage around corners are beneficial suggestions, not just decoration
- My car really does not have any pick-up, especially when holding my entire life (minus my books) in the back of it
- I can handle (while not gracefully) driving in 5-lane highways for long periods of time
- I get easily distracted while listening to a good book
My driving was perfectly executed during the trip...meaning, I didn't get into any accidents and didn't receive any tickets. Shortly after we arrived and unpacked my car, SL and I went to the local Big Lots, Dollar General and Target to pick up the odds and ends I needed to make my portion of the house livable. While pulling into the Target parking lot, I realized I had been using my spare key for the mini excursion and had in fact left my house key in my new bedroom. Rats! I called my new roomie and explained the situation. She was at a restaurant with her brother so she gave me directions so I could drive to her and get her key. After a little shopping spree at Target, we got in the dreaded car and headed toward the restaurant. It was pretty close. A nice, easy drive, yet somehow while rounding a corner, I managed to take out a curb! After driving for 2 days without any mishaps, I took out a freakin curb and scratched my rim! All I could do was laugh.
About 5 minutes after leaving the restaurant, I got a phone call from the same roomie. Through her giggles, she explained to me that she had accidentally given me all of her keys and therefore had no way of getting home. I went back to give them to her and on the way, slowed down while rounding all corners.
Thus far, this is all I know about my roomies:
- They enjoy alcohol, but not to get wasted
- They are BOTH VEGETARIANS!!!!
- They have two cats, that are clearly not vegetarians because their wet food with chunks of animal gives the house a distinct smell
- They are healthier than me
- They are extremely nice and have offered to share their Netflix account with me
Know any good movies I should order?
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Webster's Ain't Got Nothing On Me
Today is my last day here at Joe Corporate. I've been uber-busy this week and I am sure it will sustain through the weekend....well if driving for 13 hours equals busy, then yes. I started my week with plans to say bye to different "groups" of friends (ie the Math people, the Model UN people, people I actually hang out with...) and now I've decided that it's not the best idea to continue with these scheduled good-byes because they are just not fun. How much fun could we possibly have hanging out if we know that it's just going to end in tears? Plus, I generally do not hang out with these people so I could spend my time doing other things like hanging out with my family or, I don't know, packing! I have been productive at work, though. If you check out Word Imperfect, you will see that I FINALLY FREAKIN WON YESTERDAY!!!! I decided to pretend to work on my final day so I'll have to catch up later.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Beerfest Weekend Recap
Number of tokens it took to get a sample of beer: 1
Number of tokens the 5 of us went through: 90
Number of times I said "I can't believe Bell's Brewery isn't here. I LOVE Bell's Beer!": 3
Number of times anybody responded/acted like they cared that I love Bell's: 0
Number of "In Your Face!" pictures Loverboy snapped of me on the way to the Fest: 9
Number of pictures we took while at the Fest: 0 (because somebody was so happy with himself after taking the pictures in the car that he forgot the camera on the seat)
Number of bites I had to take of the jambalaya until I felt like my eardrums were burning: 1
Number of minutes I wanted to cry from the jambalaya induced pain: 30
Number of tears I shed throughout the entire weekend: approx 7 and they were all spread out
Amount of fun I had the entire weekend: Ooodles!
(P.S. I wish I was this creative, but I saw my first recap on Elena Joyce's blog)
Number of tokens the 5 of us went through: 90
Number of times I said "I can't believe Bell's Brewery isn't here. I LOVE Bell's Beer!": 3
Number of times anybody responded/acted like they cared that I love Bell's: 0
Number of "In Your Face!" pictures Loverboy snapped of me on the way to the Fest: 9
Number of pictures we took while at the Fest: 0 (because somebody was so happy with himself after taking the pictures in the car that he forgot the camera on the seat)
Number of bites I had to take of the jambalaya until I felt like my eardrums were burning: 1
Number of minutes I wanted to cry from the jambalaya induced pain: 30
Number of tears I shed throughout the entire weekend: approx 7 and they were all spread out
Amount of fun I had the entire weekend: Ooodles!
(P.S. I wish I was this creative, but I saw my first recap on Elena Joyce's blog)
Friday, July 27, 2007
WTF Blogspot?
I realize that the post below is probably difficult to read due to the fact that there are not any spaces between the paragraphs. I put them in originally, but when it posted, they were gone. I edited the post 3 times to include them, and yet they are still not there. Oh spaces, why are you hiding? Come out, come out wherever you are!
Yet Another Lesson From Corporate
The best sentence I heard all day:
"I'll see ya tonight, babe."
I'm as giddy as a 9 year old girl that received her first 'I like you do you like me?' note. I thought today would go by slow because I would want to get out of here so bad, but it really hasn't. Before my lunch break, the only thing I did was check and recheck an analysis that I had been working on and off on for about a month. When I was sure that everything on my end was correct, I brought it to a supervisor to re-recheck it with me because I was sick of the saleswoman hounding me. Tangent: I'm pretty sure if she had my cell phone number she would call me more than my mother does.
After my supervisor and I come to the conclusion that it was not my work that was wrong, it was in fact the files that the saleswoman had sent me that were incorrect. Together, we talked to her on speakerphone and explained what was wrong. After realizing that it wasn't a mistake on our end, she chose not to apologize, but to say, "Oh, well you learn something new everyday." That was the fourth time in about a week and a half that I have been harshly directly/indirectly accused of messing something up, when in fact it was the accuser that messed something up. None of them apologized. At this point I am apathetic to the whole process. If you want to send me a harsh email, then BRING IT ON! [some of you are probably thinking, "Well, Kirsten Dunst, it's already been BROUGHTEN!" and to you I say, touché.]
Next Wednesday is my last day here. I thought I would be sad, but I am ready to leave. These last two weeks of salesmen berating me have prepared me for my exit. On my last day, my supervisor wants to take our group out for drinks (starting at 2:30, sure!). Yesterday, I realized that attending this fiesta is my boss's order and therefore I should be on the clock while at the restaurant. If not, then I would say, F that Jazz I'll stay at my desk until 5:00 so I can get a full day's pay. I went back and forth with this with my sister until she backed me up, which is really what I needed. Today I was backed up even further by one of my other supervisors who had the following conversation with me:
Him [stopping by my desk at about 3:00]- Alright, I'm out of here for the weekend. Is there anything you need before I go?
Me [quickly minimizing the window to the blog that I was reading]- Yeah, the correct files for all the requests.
Him- I doubt anybody will get you those tonight. It's Friday, nobody works this late [Reminder: it's 3:00 pm!], you should just go home. Oh wait, you have to clock out, don't you?
Me [just remembering that I forgot to clock in after my lunch break]- Yes, us temps have to use the time clock.
Him [in all seriousness]- You live close, just go home and come back to clock out in a couple of hours.
I had not comment after that. Bottom line: I will be getting paid to have drinks on the company dollar next Wednesday. Hooray for me.
P.S. Did I mention I get to see Loverboy all weekend?!?
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Some People will Never Change
A few nights ago I hung out with a few old friends. We all met at the oil change I used to work at. They all still work there. While we sat around the patio table and sipped our [separately purchased] beers, we did what we have done for the past 4 years: talked about the oil change. I didn't mind, as if I ever did, because I have missed the place since I quit a couple of months ago. Earlier that day while I was at work [this had to have been after I did my blogging rounds] I sent a mass [if mass means three people] text message to invite them over. Only one of them was at work at the time. He felt the need to make it known to the other guys he was working with [my former co-workers] that I had invited him over. No biggie. I have never invited any of them over before so why would they care? They didn't, but my old boss did. He actually got miffed over the fact that I don't send him text messages. He didn't care that I didn't invite him over. He already had plans. Why the hell would I invite him over?!?!? We were always close while I worked there...as close as a married man and a girl nearly half his age can be without making things illegal.
Towards the end of my sentence at the oil change, him and I clearly drifted apart. He was hurt that I was leaving him, and I didn't show that I cared [probably because I didn't]. Around the same time, he started his obsession with text messages. Prior to that, I had sent him about a handful to let him know his lunch had arrived and I couldn't find him. That was about it. Somehow, from those, he thought sending messages with heavy sexual undertones to me was appropriate. He had the ability to turn anything into a sexual innuendo.
Example via a flashback:
Me [after a night of babysitting his sons]- "They [his kids] insisted on watching a movie in your bedroom. They wouldn't fall asleep unless I laid in bed with them." [mind you, they were around the ages of 6 and 7 at the time]
Him [to all of the guys at work the next day]- "Wa-hoooo! Gyps has been in my bed! How many of you can say that?!?"
Flash forward to today. In my nostalgic frame of mind, I decided I should visit him one last time before I leave. To stop him from pouting, I sent him a text message. From there, we had a text conversation that went like this:
Me- Would you rather...have me stop by the shop to chill OR stop by your house to chill?
Him- How bout the sybris [I believe he meant the Sybaris, which is advertised as the "Romantic Getaway" meaning it's a hotel that couples visit to bone in the same place that thousands of others have (ie in the hot tubs or private pools)]
Me [trying to shoot him down in the nicest way possible]- That is a bit out of my price range
Him- A gentleman always pays
Me [thinking, "If you're gentleman, then why are you suggesting we meet at a place with sex swings hanging in every room?"]- Ok see you at the shot at 7.
I'm still waiting for a response from him...
Towards the end of my sentence at the oil change, him and I clearly drifted apart. He was hurt that I was leaving him, and I didn't show that I cared [probably because I didn't]. Around the same time, he started his obsession with text messages. Prior to that, I had sent him about a handful to let him know his lunch had arrived and I couldn't find him. That was about it. Somehow, from those, he thought sending messages with heavy sexual undertones to me was appropriate. He had the ability to turn anything into a sexual innuendo.
Example via a flashback:
Me [after a night of babysitting his sons]- "They [his kids] insisted on watching a movie in your bedroom. They wouldn't fall asleep unless I laid in bed with them." [mind you, they were around the ages of 6 and 7 at the time]
Him [to all of the guys at work the next day]- "Wa-hoooo! Gyps has been in my bed! How many of you can say that?!?"
Flash forward to today. In my nostalgic frame of mind, I decided I should visit him one last time before I leave. To stop him from pouting, I sent him a text message. From there, we had a text conversation that went like this:
Me- Would you rather...have me stop by the shop to chill OR stop by your house to chill?
Him- How bout the sybris [I believe he meant the Sybaris, which is advertised as the "Romantic Getaway" meaning it's a hotel that couples visit to bone in the same place that thousands of others have (ie in the hot tubs or private pools)]
Me [trying to shoot him down in the nicest way possible]- That is a bit out of my price range
Him- A gentleman always pays
Me [thinking, "If you're gentleman, then why are you suggesting we meet at a place with sex swings hanging in every room?"]- Ok see you at the shot at 7.
I'm still waiting for a response from him...
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Life Lesson #239 and a Bit O' Good News!
Life Lesson #239:
Always Always Always open the inside of a public bathroom door with a paper towel or something "protective" between your hand and the handle. Most women do not wash their hands after using the facilities. There are also women who wash their hands then sneeze in them, but since they just washed their hands they don't feel the need to do it again. I just witnessed this phenomenon. I was speechless.
Bit O' Good News:
During my lunch break I stopped at the bank and made my final car payment! I am now the [proud?] owner of a 2002 Hyundai Elantra! Yes, the check engine light is on, but it's MY check engine light now! Hooray! Unfortunately, balloons did not fall from the ceiling while I was standing at the counter. I really thought they would. Note to self: Next time I take out a loan for a car, do some research on banks prior to prioritize according to celebration tactics.
Always Always Always open the inside of a public bathroom door with a paper towel or something "protective" between your hand and the handle. Most women do not wash their hands after using the facilities. There are also women who wash their hands then sneeze in them, but since they just washed their hands they don't feel the need to do it again. I just witnessed this phenomenon. I was speechless.
Bit O' Good News:
During my lunch break I stopped at the bank and made my final car payment! I am now the [proud?] owner of a 2002 Hyundai Elantra! Yes, the check engine light is on, but it's MY check engine light now! Hooray! Unfortunately, balloons did not fall from the ceiling while I was standing at the counter. I really thought they would. Note to self: Next time I take out a loan for a car, do some research on banks prior to prioritize according to celebration tactics.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
A Cloud of Privacy Has Just Rolled Over
I decided that if I were a dinosaur, I would be a Pee-osaurus Rex. I feel as if I am constantly going to the ladies room while I am at work. It must be my body's way of saying, "Hey Gyps, you've been sitting on your behind, staring at the computer all day. Get up!" I just shifted in my seat as I typed that as if that was part of a decent daily physical regiment. I used to be very active. In the past I was always at my peak physical state during the summer. Now, I feel like a blob. I'm not saying that I am chubby or anything, but I feel like an unhealthy blob. I have actually lost weight, which, let me remind you, is only a number. I have actually lost muscle mass not blub. I'd take the higher number over this.
It's funny that I say that because after work I am having a few friends over to sit on my parents' patio and have some drinks. Along with my invites to them, I made sure to add BYOB fools...and BBFM (bring beer for me)! Well, I should have added that last part.
I caught myself zoning out while co-workers talked to me today. As I nodded my head and said "Ah-huh. Ah-huh. Ah-huh" to them, I was trying to recall the feelings I get when Loverboy kisses me. I do love to kiss him. Not the tonsil hockey, slobber type of kisses, but the I am happy to see you kiss on the slightly open mouth. He embraces me in a certain way whenever he gives me those kisses. I miss that. Lucky for me, I get to be with him all weekend! [Insert picture of me perking up in my chair and staring off into space as I think about the kisses I am going to get this weekend.]
Now all I can think about are very private thoughts involving him. I better stop Damning the Man! and punch out of here [I am at work right now] and enjoy my thoughts alone at home.
It's funny that I say that because after work I am having a few friends over to sit on my parents' patio and have some drinks. Along with my invites to them, I made sure to add BYOB fools...and BBFM (bring beer for me)! Well, I should have added that last part.
I caught myself zoning out while co-workers talked to me today. As I nodded my head and said "Ah-huh. Ah-huh. Ah-huh" to them, I was trying to recall the feelings I get when Loverboy kisses me. I do love to kiss him. Not the tonsil hockey, slobber type of kisses, but the I am happy to see you kiss on the slightly open mouth. He embraces me in a certain way whenever he gives me those kisses. I miss that. Lucky for me, I get to be with him all weekend! [Insert picture of me perking up in my chair and staring off into space as I think about the kisses I am going to get this weekend.]
Now all I can think about are very private thoughts involving him. I better stop Damning the Man! and punch out of here [I am at work right now] and enjoy my thoughts alone at home.
I Need Help!!
I am having difficulty with blogrolling. I signed up on the Blogroll site and copied the html into the html link. Now what? I don't have easy access on my page to my favorites anymore!!!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Hey Jealousy
There is something about the song "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve that always makes me feel like I am in a movie. I believe that the only time I hear it is when I am having an ah-ha! moment, which usually pertains to life, and usually occurs while I am driving. Life is a bittersweet symphony. Those are pretty much the only words in the song, yet the message is carried through the entire 3 minutes or so. Maybe it's the violins in the background. Whenever I hear the violins opening the song, I cannot help but smile and think that eh, life isn't as bad as I think it is.
Today when it came on, I was driving to my tutoring lesson and I was thinking about an email I received from my Ant D. It was in response to the time we had spent together on Saturday. It was such a beautifully written letter so full of the love and emotion that both of us have kept from each other and the rest of our extended family for years. In it she had highlighted certain anxieties that occur in her and other members of the family that I had never known about. I laughed (and teared up) while reading it because it reminded me of a conversation my sister and I had recently. My sister pointed out the fact that most of our female cousins close to us in age have children. Correction: They are all mothers to gorgeous children. Whenever we have family gatherings, my sister and I watch on as they watch over their children. We were jealous of them. They all have never ending bonds with these amazing kids and we don't. We don't have anybody to wake up to in the morning. We don't have little bodies running around pretending to make us breakfast out of whatever they can grab in the kitchen. We don't have the pleasure of listening to our daughter's excitement over going to school in the fall or talking to our son while he has a blue Kool-Aid mustache.
The whole time, we had been jealous of them, they were jealous of us. The cake topper is that we don't even know each other well enough to justify our jealousy! [Insert Ah-ha! moment here...Jealousy can never really be justified...unless you try reeeeeaaaallly hard]. The whole time we were jealous, we had added in the extra husband factor, which in my naive mind meant nothing but happiness. The bottom line is that, and I am only speaking for myself here, I have always pictured my cousins as embodying the ideals of the "other world" that I do not have. I was ignorant of the fact that their path can and has caused problems similar to mine.
As much as I bitch, kick, scream and fight my way through life, I would not trade mine or any aspect of it. Correction: I would trade Loverboy's desire to read the new Harry Potter book tonight instead of talking to me.
Today when it came on, I was driving to my tutoring lesson and I was thinking about an email I received from my Ant D. It was in response to the time we had spent together on Saturday. It was such a beautifully written letter so full of the love and emotion that both of us have kept from each other and the rest of our extended family for years. In it she had highlighted certain anxieties that occur in her and other members of the family that I had never known about. I laughed (and teared up) while reading it because it reminded me of a conversation my sister and I had recently. My sister pointed out the fact that most of our female cousins close to us in age have children. Correction: They are all mothers to gorgeous children. Whenever we have family gatherings, my sister and I watch on as they watch over their children. We were jealous of them. They all have never ending bonds with these amazing kids and we don't. We don't have anybody to wake up to in the morning. We don't have little bodies running around pretending to make us breakfast out of whatever they can grab in the kitchen. We don't have the pleasure of listening to our daughter's excitement over going to school in the fall or talking to our son while he has a blue Kool-Aid mustache.
The whole time, we had been jealous of them, they were jealous of us. The cake topper is that we don't even know each other well enough to justify our jealousy! [Insert Ah-ha! moment here...Jealousy can never really be justified...unless you try reeeeeaaaallly hard]. The whole time we were jealous, we had added in the extra husband factor, which in my naive mind meant nothing but happiness. The bottom line is that, and I am only speaking for myself here, I have always pictured my cousins as embodying the ideals of the "other world" that I do not have. I was ignorant of the fact that their path can and has caused problems similar to mine.
As much as I bitch, kick, scream and fight my way through life, I would not trade mine or any aspect of it. Correction: I would trade Loverboy's desire to read the new Harry Potter book tonight instead of talking to me.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Found: A New High
I started packing today. Well, it was not really packing it was pretty much getting rid of damn near everything in my closet and dresser drawers. I was amazed at how many unpractical items I have held unto for all of these years. When I was in high school, Sexy Lady and I would go to the thrift store every half-priced Monday and buy little boy t-shirts. At the time I thought we were cute, but thinking back, does any guy really want to date a girl that looks good in his old junior high t-shirts? College t-shirts/sweatshirts maybe, but a developing boys'? Probably not. My point is that the majority of my clothes are little boy t-shirts that I either cannot fit into or are worn out to the point that they are see-through. Because my mom was by my side and giving me the come on Gyps you're an adult now look, I decided to part with most of my tiny tee's. After the first large bag was filled, I was sad. After the second was filled, all I could do was shake my head and think, "Man, I am ridiculous." Along with my second (soon to be third) hand tees, I had to donate all of the dresses I wore to high school dances (let's face it, I cannot fit into anything near a size 2 anymore and spandex is not and never has been flattering...thank you to all of my friends that let my get away with wearing those), my skimpy little shorts that used to be too big on me but now could not fit past my knees, and all of my ripped jeans that were not purchased that way but literally worn to shreds.
I am glad that I went through all of that because I was nervous that I would not be able to fit everything into my car when I move. Now that I have this new, beautiful 17" HP notebook, I have to save as much room as possible. This baby is getting it's own seat in the car with a seat belt and all.
I cannot end this without writing about this wonderful high I am on right now. Friday night I went out with my amazing sister. It was the first time we really went out together. I could not have asked for a better time. Our unspoken goal for the night was to find her a man. There was a handful of guys that our beer goggles noticed and by the end of the night, without even breaking a sweat she had gotten us about 4 or 5 free drinks each. I had the best time watching her work her magic. The only time I can ever recall getting a free drink prior to Friday was on my 21st birthday when I went around to nearly every table at the bar and showed every guy my ID to illustrate that it was in fact my birthday and he was responsible for getting me drunk. That one Miller Lite I got that night was fabulous. As I laid in bed that night and watched the ceiling spin I became mildly sentimental. It dawned on me just how close my sister and I have become over the past couple of months and now I am about to throw all of that away when I move in a couple of weeks. I know we can still talk on the phone everyday (we get free Verizon to Verizon which kicks ass...side note: That night I also learned that one of the qualities she is looking for in a man is that he has a Verizon phone...I thought it was funny. I am pretty sure she is serious though), but it just won't be the same now that I know how fun she can be to hang out with.
Yesterday, my grandparents had a family party that you can read about in my cousin's blog OneMomTwoBabies . I think it was the most "successful" get together we have had in a long time. Instead of being a Crabby Patty, I decided to socialize with everybody as much as I possibly could. At one point, I snuck away from everybody and walked around every room of my grandparents' house and absorbed all of the memories that every room, picture, piece of furniture, doll and blanket brought. It took all of my strength to hold back tears. A large chunk of my childhood was spent at that house along with everybody that I had talked to outside plus the rest of the family that did not show up and all of their exes and step-daughters. It is a shame I don't let those memories play out more often. The climax of the day was when my grandmother brought out boxes for each of her kids that contained the pictures she had acquired over the years of them and their children. Everybody gathered in their respective family group and looked through the pictures together. I don't know if anybody else noticed the proud smile my grandmother had as she walked from group to group when somebody questioned a picture or said, "Look at what we found Grandma!" It has probably been so long since she has heard those words from my generation of grand kids (she now has a new generation of the most beautiful great-grand kids I have ever seen) that she just soaked in every moment.
While I was walking through her house yesterday, I wondered if she replays any of the same memories that I do whenever I am there. I wondered if she thought about the Easter that Great-grandma gave all of us little chalkboards with bitty pieces of chalk to write with. Does she think about putting little treats on the pillows of her guest bed like she did when my cousin Boo and I stayed there for a week? Does she remember the dinners she cooked for me and grandpa after she picked me up from my weekly counseling session? I do. I remember the stuffed pork chops and the salads with the avocado on them. I taste the mints. I feel the chalk on my hands. I smell the piles of moist leaves she let us jump into and I love it. Being with my family this entire weekend gave me the biggest high I have had in a long time.
In order maintain my high or at least remember a place I can go to get it back, I added a new item to my To Do List. If you are a member of my family (heh, and you know who you are now), please know that although it has never really been said, I love you. All of you have made such a huge impact on my life that I never really realized until just recently.
I am glad that I went through all of that because I was nervous that I would not be able to fit everything into my car when I move. Now that I have this new, beautiful 17" HP notebook, I have to save as much room as possible. This baby is getting it's own seat in the car with a seat belt and all.
I cannot end this without writing about this wonderful high I am on right now. Friday night I went out with my amazing sister. It was the first time we really went out together. I could not have asked for a better time. Our unspoken goal for the night was to find her a man. There was a handful of guys that our beer goggles noticed and by the end of the night, without even breaking a sweat she had gotten us about 4 or 5 free drinks each. I had the best time watching her work her magic. The only time I can ever recall getting a free drink prior to Friday was on my 21st birthday when I went around to nearly every table at the bar and showed every guy my ID to illustrate that it was in fact my birthday and he was responsible for getting me drunk. That one Miller Lite I got that night was fabulous. As I laid in bed that night and watched the ceiling spin I became mildly sentimental. It dawned on me just how close my sister and I have become over the past couple of months and now I am about to throw all of that away when I move in a couple of weeks. I know we can still talk on the phone everyday (we get free Verizon to Verizon which kicks ass...side note: That night I also learned that one of the qualities she is looking for in a man is that he has a Verizon phone...I thought it was funny. I am pretty sure she is serious though), but it just won't be the same now that I know how fun she can be to hang out with.
Yesterday, my grandparents had a family party that you can read about in my cousin's blog OneMomTwoBabies . I think it was the most "successful" get together we have had in a long time. Instead of being a Crabby Patty, I decided to socialize with everybody as much as I possibly could. At one point, I snuck away from everybody and walked around every room of my grandparents' house and absorbed all of the memories that every room, picture, piece of furniture, doll and blanket brought. It took all of my strength to hold back tears. A large chunk of my childhood was spent at that house along with everybody that I had talked to outside plus the rest of the family that did not show up and all of their exes and step-daughters. It is a shame I don't let those memories play out more often. The climax of the day was when my grandmother brought out boxes for each of her kids that contained the pictures she had acquired over the years of them and their children. Everybody gathered in their respective family group and looked through the pictures together. I don't know if anybody else noticed the proud smile my grandmother had as she walked from group to group when somebody questioned a picture or said, "Look at what we found Grandma!" It has probably been so long since she has heard those words from my generation of grand kids (she now has a new generation of the most beautiful great-grand kids I have ever seen) that she just soaked in every moment.
While I was walking through her house yesterday, I wondered if she replays any of the same memories that I do whenever I am there. I wondered if she thought about the Easter that Great-grandma gave all of us little chalkboards with bitty pieces of chalk to write with. Does she think about putting little treats on the pillows of her guest bed like she did when my cousin Boo and I stayed there for a week? Does she remember the dinners she cooked for me and grandpa after she picked me up from my weekly counseling session? I do. I remember the stuffed pork chops and the salads with the avocado on them. I taste the mints. I feel the chalk on my hands. I smell the piles of moist leaves she let us jump into and I love it. Being with my family this entire weekend gave me the biggest high I have had in a long time.
In order maintain my high or at least remember a place I can go to get it back, I added a new item to my To Do List. If you are a member of my family (heh, and you know who you are now), please know that although it has never really been said, I love you. All of you have made such a huge impact on my life that I never really realized until just recently.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Timeline
10 years ago--Age 12
- I went through my first bad-ass stage. During a school field trip to a museum, I befriended a well-known bad-ass. We decided to ditch our group in an attempt to run away in the city. Our group mother eventually found us and scolded us as if we were her own kids. Needless to say, since then her daughter was not allowed to talk to me after that.
- At my birthday party, an older cousin and I decided to try smoking a cigarette. We went through the ashtray in my mom's wood-trimmed minivan and picked out the longest butts to smoke. For years after that, her and I randomly stole cigarettes from our mothers, grandmother and my brother. The random habit has been with me ever since
8 years ago--Age 14
- At an ultimate low, I decided to end it all by taking an obscene amount of generic Tylenol. Right after, I called a friend and asked her to take me to the hospital. They pumped my stomach, then for the next 5 days they treated me to the worst possible hospital stay a girl that age could have. They wanted to make sure I wouldn't want to come back. When I got home, I vowed that I would do it again when I was 16.
- Along with that vow, I made another. I vowed to lose my virginity at 16. It sounded like a good idea to me.
7 years ago--Age 15
- My parents decide to get me the hell out of Podunk, USA and get me into Growingtown. That was one of the best decisions they ever made for me.
6 years ago--Age 16
- In a lapse of depression, I decide to stick with my vow and lose my virginity to a random guy I had met that night. We did it in a tent and the condom broke. Cue the psycho's first appearance. After that I decided I couldn't follow through with my other vow as I wasn't sure if I would be murdering a baby at the same time.
- I started working at Mom & Pop's Shop, which served as a catalyst for my hatred of older men. It still boggles my mind when I think about the way they would talk to me. Maybe they didn't realize that calling a 16 year old stranger beautiful actually has the opposite affect than intended
4 year ago--Age 18
- I graduated high school then went straight to college. I decided to continue living with my parents. I have yet to regret that decision. Right before school started, I put a down payment on my second car (1st not bought from my dad). I did not realize at the time that I should have done more research into my purchase. Instead, I thought it was by far the best investment I could ever make as the interior lights were pretty. I am making my final payment on it tomorrow.
2 years ago--Age 20
- I noticed Loverboy for the 1st time. I let my inhibitions go and...smiled and said hi to him every third or fourth time I saw him.
- I became a temporary morning person because I knew he started work at 9am on the third floor of my new found favorite building. For the next 6 months I studied at the desks on the third floor starting at 8:30 every morning.
1.5 years ago--Almost 21
- Loverboy and I started dating. I get excited just thinking about those first few times together.
1 year ago--Age 21
- For the first of many times, I fell head over heels for Loverboy. I realized that he was the one I had been waiting for. He actually makes me want to be a better person...was that a line from a movie because it really sounds like it?
- Since I was getting to school so early to study (I continued on the third floor so I could be close to Loverboy in the morning), I started getting involved on campus. I was nominated as the president of a prestigious club (the Math Club of course) and was asked to co-teach a class my final year.
Last night--Age 22
- After a 9 hour day at work, I tutored a student in calculus for 2 hours. I helped him understand the relationship between a function and its derivatives. In all seriousness, he became excited when it finally sank in. Afterwards, I went to my friend Sexy Lady's house. We had a few beers, then around 11pm her 13 year old brother sat with us and started studying algebra. He was accepted into the advanced program and he was trying to prepare himself. He asked me for help until around 1am. Although I usually try to go to bed at 11, I did not mind in the least bit. I was delighted to help. I taught him how to add a negative. It felt great.
Two weeks from tomorrow--Age 22 and not ready
- I am running away from home the adult way. I am moving nearly 800 miles away from everything and everyone that I know. I pray that this does not start an adult version of the previous cycle.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sleep Deprivation = Horny?
The funniest thought I have had all day:
"My left foot has slept more this week than I have."
It was one of those it's funny because it's true type of thoughts. I have had serious sleep issues for the past few months. I think it goes in spurts. For awhile I was a successful sleeper...meaning I could lay down when I was tired and shortly thereafter I would fall asleep and not wake up until my alarm went off. Now, I become tired around 5 pm, but since I am far from the age of 79, I feel odd going to sleep that early. Instead, I just mope around for 5 or 6 hours until a "normal" sleep time rolls around. Usually by that time I have stored up large amounts of energy from my mopefest that I am wide awake and unable to fall asleep. I have heard that the more activities a person does in bed, the harder it becomes for that person to fall asleep. The rule of thumb is that the only activities that should be done in bed are sleeping and boning. Well, since boning is unfortunately out of the question, I had to add another activity to my "allowed in bed list"...watching TV. Well, in my head watching TV goes hand in hand with snacking. So really watching TV and snacking is just one activity....or so I thought. Either the rule of thumb is wrong, and you can't do more than one thing in bed OR I am wrong and watching TV and snacking are two different activities.
Solution: Loverboy moves closer to me (or in the same place as me) and we swap watching TV/snacking for boning. It's a win-win-win situation (laugh if you've seen that episode of The Office).
"My left foot has slept more this week than I have."
It was one of those it's funny because it's true type of thoughts. I have had serious sleep issues for the past few months. I think it goes in spurts. For awhile I was a successful sleeper...meaning I could lay down when I was tired and shortly thereafter I would fall asleep and not wake up until my alarm went off. Now, I become tired around 5 pm, but since I am far from the age of 79, I feel odd going to sleep that early. Instead, I just mope around for 5 or 6 hours until a "normal" sleep time rolls around. Usually by that time I have stored up large amounts of energy from my mopefest that I am wide awake and unable to fall asleep. I have heard that the more activities a person does in bed, the harder it becomes for that person to fall asleep. The rule of thumb is that the only activities that should be done in bed are sleeping and boning. Well, since boning is unfortunately out of the question, I had to add another activity to my "allowed in bed list"...watching TV. Well, in my head watching TV goes hand in hand with snacking. So really watching TV and snacking is just one activity....or so I thought. Either the rule of thumb is wrong, and you can't do more than one thing in bed OR I am wrong and watching TV and snacking are two different activities.
Solution: Loverboy moves closer to me (or in the same place as me) and we swap watching TV/snacking for boning. It's a win-win-win situation (laugh if you've seen that episode of The Office).
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Are the 50s Making a Comeback???
One of my duties here at Joe Corporate is to check my department's group email box. Yesterday, we received an email from a salesman that I have completed/sent numerous analyses to and at the end of each email I send him I put my name, The Gypsy Queen. It is an extremely female name as is the department supervisor's. Our department is known as Lisa's Group, named after our supervisor. Why, oh why, would the email sent to our group mailbox from the guy that has corresponded to both Lisa and The Gypsy Queen, start with:
Dear Sirs:
Blah blah blah. I am a chauvanist that thinks only males can work in logistics....???
I don't understand his thinking. Could somebody enlighten me? Did he not want me to complete his request this time? Have I failed him somehow in the past? Well Mr. Pig, I hate to break it to you, but I will be completing the analysis. Deal with it!!! Lisa suggested I sign the email
Love,
The Girls in Logistics
Her reasoning: I will only be here for 2 more weeks; it's not like she's going to fire me. I can do whatever I want. Then she went on a tangent about my ability to tell all of the people that this department despises off for her. What a wonderful boss...nay, a GREAT boss. After she spewed her evil ideas to me, I asked if I would be to come back during my winter break like she had requested. She said, "Oh of course! We would have to get you an alias, though."
So if you receive a nasty email from me in the next two weeks, I apologize in advance. My boss made me do it.
Dear Sirs:
Blah blah blah. I am a chauvanist that thinks only males can work in logistics....???
I don't understand his thinking. Could somebody enlighten me? Did he not want me to complete his request this time? Have I failed him somehow in the past? Well Mr. Pig, I hate to break it to you, but I will be completing the analysis. Deal with it!!! Lisa suggested I sign the email
Love,
The Girls in Logistics
Her reasoning: I will only be here for 2 more weeks; it's not like she's going to fire me. I can do whatever I want. Then she went on a tangent about my ability to tell all of the people that this department despises off for her. What a wonderful boss...nay, a GREAT boss. After she spewed her evil ideas to me, I asked if I would be to come back during my winter break like she had requested. She said, "Oh of course! We would have to get you an alias, though."
So if you receive a nasty email from me in the next two weeks, I apologize in advance. My boss made me do it.
Unhappy Hostess
One of my best friends, Beautiful Lady, snagged herself a man about a month ago. This is her first relationship in over 2 years so I was really happy for her...until I met him last night. He has a really rough past, that to me seems to still be the present. He was not the nice, clean cut, well-mannered guy you bring home to mommy. He was the pierced, long-haired guy you bring over to your friend's house. First impressions are huge with me as well as with most people so I would think that he would put his best foot forward and try to impress his girlfriend's best friend. This is how the night went:
My parents are out of town for a couple of days and as per usual I invited BL over to hang out. She asked if she could bring her man and a 12-pack. I planned on having a beer or two already so I agreed that it was fine. While she was busy picking her man up (that's right, he does not have a car) I was tutoring. On my home, she called to say it was taking her longer than she thought and she asked me to pick up some beer. I didn't mind picking it up at the time, but on my home I recalled the numerous nights in the past that she had been running late, sticking me with beer expenses for the night. In the meantime, my sister was at my house packing the last of her odds n ends into her car.
Although BL was running late, she still got to my house before me so as I pulled into my driveway I was welcomed by her and her man macking on my front porch. Upon first glance, I could not tell which of the figures was her as his hair was just as long if not longer than hers. When they pulled apart I had to look for the figure with the bigger chest. As I get out of my car, I have a few things from the grocery store (a 12-pack of beer and my two boxes of Cheez-Its that I bought buy one get one free). Neither of them offer to help me carry my items (Strike ONE). Right after opening our first beers (which neither of them offered to reimburse me for...I'll call that a foul) my sister walks out carrying the first of several heavy boxes to her car. Instead of offering, BL's man has to be persuaded to help her carry some of the boxes. He carried one (Strike TWO). While I helped my sister, BL and her man canoodled in the garage while drinking their free beers. After my sister left, we started to relax and I suggested ordering a pizza. BL's man then makes the comment that he is not really hungry and says he only has plastic anyway. BL says she'll be his sugar momma for the night, his response was to chuckle then stick his tongue down her throat in front of me...her statement becomes meaningless because we ended up cooking one of my parents' frozen pizzas and she did not pay for his portion of the beer. Unless they went somewhere after my house, her sugar momma statement was completely moot.
After BL's man and I finished the pizza (I had three slices, he ate the rest....not hungry my ass), he opened one of my boxes of Cheez-Its and munched on them while sipping his delicious beer (Strike THREE...he's outta there).
I wasn't planning on being a hostess last night. I didn't plan on providing food and drinks for everyone. If I was, then I would have purchased the lower end cheap beer and imitation snack crackers.
Bottom line: I am miffed that I bought their beer when I had my own at home. Together, they drank roughly 14 beers (they tapped into my dad's) and neither offered reimbursements. I've seen this type of behavior from her in the past so I was not too surprised from her. On the other hand, I would think she would want to prove her decency to her new man by offering to pay me back. The same goes for him. The only conclusion that I can come up with is that neither cares whether or not their partner thinks they are decent. That sucks.
BL if you are reading this, I accept payments by check or cash.
My parents are out of town for a couple of days and as per usual I invited BL over to hang out. She asked if she could bring her man and a 12-pack. I planned on having a beer or two already so I agreed that it was fine. While she was busy picking her man up (that's right, he does not have a car) I was tutoring. On my home, she called to say it was taking her longer than she thought and she asked me to pick up some beer. I didn't mind picking it up at the time, but on my home I recalled the numerous nights in the past that she had been running late, sticking me with beer expenses for the night. In the meantime, my sister was at my house packing the last of her odds n ends into her car.
Although BL was running late, she still got to my house before me so as I pulled into my driveway I was welcomed by her and her man macking on my front porch. Upon first glance, I could not tell which of the figures was her as his hair was just as long if not longer than hers. When they pulled apart I had to look for the figure with the bigger chest. As I get out of my car, I have a few things from the grocery store (a 12-pack of beer and my two boxes of Cheez-Its that I bought buy one get one free). Neither of them offer to help me carry my items (Strike ONE). Right after opening our first beers (which neither of them offered to reimburse me for...I'll call that a foul) my sister walks out carrying the first of several heavy boxes to her car. Instead of offering, BL's man has to be persuaded to help her carry some of the boxes. He carried one (Strike TWO). While I helped my sister, BL and her man canoodled in the garage while drinking their free beers. After my sister left, we started to relax and I suggested ordering a pizza. BL's man then makes the comment that he is not really hungry and says he only has plastic anyway. BL says she'll be his sugar momma for the night, his response was to chuckle then stick his tongue down her throat in front of me...her statement becomes meaningless because we ended up cooking one of my parents' frozen pizzas and she did not pay for his portion of the beer. Unless they went somewhere after my house, her sugar momma statement was completely moot.
After BL's man and I finished the pizza (I had three slices, he ate the rest....not hungry my ass), he opened one of my boxes of Cheez-Its and munched on them while sipping his delicious beer (Strike THREE...he's outta there).
I wasn't planning on being a hostess last night. I didn't plan on providing food and drinks for everyone. If I was, then I would have purchased the lower end cheap beer and imitation snack crackers.
Bottom line: I am miffed that I bought their beer when I had my own at home. Together, they drank roughly 14 beers (they tapped into my dad's) and neither offered reimbursements. I've seen this type of behavior from her in the past so I was not too surprised from her. On the other hand, I would think she would want to prove her decency to her new man by offering to pay me back. The same goes for him. The only conclusion that I can come up with is that neither cares whether or not their partner thinks they are decent. That sucks.
BL if you are reading this, I accept payments by check or cash.
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