Month: April 2005 (Page 3 of 4)

Thanks Scorpy for the fun quiz link! I was not surprised at all by the results – Upper Midwest is where I’m from, and lived for 26 years, and MissourAH and my best friend Shelley (who’s from Texas) have instilled some ‘twang and drawl’. Sorta like ‘sturm und drang’, but less glitzy. ;)

This is the second Monday in a row that I have actually felt GOOD while getting ready for work. It’s like the 80# boulder I got so used to wearing around my neck got utilized in a landscaping project & I finally got to set it down.

The interesting observation I’ve made is, much like my philosophy on Paper Cuts, is that while I’m very happy, I’m not getting off-the-charts exuberant, because I do have a tendency to act like a giant puppy about things (This chew toy is the GREATEST THING EVER! Look! Butterflies! GREATEST THINGS EVER!) and as I rub my scars from the last employer, I know that every job has its pitfalls and no particular job, or person, or relationship is ever perfect, and there will be stumbles and papercuts, and things that piss me off – but collectively, there is an overwhelming influx of positive energy and the element that was sorely missing in the past couple of years: Hope.

I mentioned to James that I was feeling the heaviness and sadness and hopelessness lift from me, and he said he’d seen the changes in me, too. Like that I was more combative now. When pressed for further details on what exactly “more combative” meant, he confessed that he noticed he wasn’t getting away with as much shit anymore, that I was calling him on things I’d apparently been letting slide for a while, things I didn’t have the energy to deal with.

:smile: New World, NuWo. The sun shines a lot more here.

(NuWo is our last names’ initials combined – it’s what we’ve called our household ever since I named our Sims family that.)

True confessions time – eesh. I can’t believe it, but I’m sitting here watching MTV Hits, channel 256 – the channel actually PLAYS MUSIC, guess you have to get the digital cable to get back to your roots. Anyway. I’m ashamed to say that the new Mariah Carey song, “It’s Like That Y’all” is actually catchy. Ugh. Let’s be honest. Part of the hook for me is she’s got the ever-sultry Eric Roberts in the video, so if I can just time looking at the tv when he’s on-screen, and she’s NOT, then I’d be happy. And I’m actually ok with the song up until – thankfully, it’s late in the song – she starts doing that I’m-Warbling-Like-A-Pie-Whistle crap. And then there’s 30-seconds where one of the featured artists just BUSTS out and it cracks me up. This is on the heels of downloading JLo’s “Get Right” as a ringtone for my phone. I SAID it was TRUE CONFESSIONS, it’s not nice to judge, and I was raised on folk music. Sometimes I just have to have some cotton candy in the form of Top 40 radio.

So I was thinking, geeze, maybe I’m like the next Dick Clark, you know, someone who won’t let go of the poppy top 40 crap, and that’s just the biggest buzzkill, every time I think of Dick Clark, because I met him once, and he was NOT NICE. Apparently, he thinks he’s more important than me. Whatever! I was more interested in my coffee, that his assistant was snatching from me, for fear I would trip and throw a cup of hot steaming java in the face of America’s Teenager, which probably would have melted his very tight face right off the titanium bone structure. And the whole time Dick Clark kept impatiently saying, “Jennifer. Jennifer. Jennifer. What do you want me to write on this Jennifer?” And all I wanted to say was, “WHATEVER DICK CLARK, TELL YOUR FAWNING MANSERVANT HERE TO GIVE ME BACK MY COFFEE.” But I think I just said, “To Jennifer.” And then later, in a fit of flashback pique, I threw it away – so there goes my opportunity to pay off the house someday with that relic. I apparently save all kinds of crap, except Dick Clark’s autograph, and Richard Simmon’s, too, dammit, I lost that one. But I was in junior high and by the time Duran Duran rolled around, I was too busy planning my wedding to half the band, with top choice going to Simon LeBon, to care about meeting a permed-out oiled-up gay diet & exercise guru. Oh, I had an assistant once who INSISTED Richard was not gay. Since I’m confessing, let’s throw in how much fun I had at HER expense over that one. A LOT.

Hey, I just found some redemption. Lindsay Lohan’s on now, singing about Rumors and I am NOT IMPRESSED. Dick Clark can sleep safely, one more night….

Here’s a crazy question for y’all! If you could have ONE band, playing in your backyard all summer, which band would it be? And then – whoa nelly – if you could have TWO bands, because, you know, it would be nice to let that first band rest sometimes, who would the second band be? (And they can’t be dead bands. That would violate reality laws even more than this exercise.)

Last year, I got into Coldplay like nobody’s business, and I turned to JWo at one point and said, “If I could just have them playing in the backyard all summer, that would be AWESOME!” And then we threw out other bands, too – and the winner, for me, for one band, all summer long, would be U2. They can rock it out, they can make it mellow (you know, for when you’re going to bed – you don’t need “Elevation” crankin’ out while you’re trying to sleep) But wouldn’t it be awesome to wake up on a summer Saturday morning to hear “Beautiful Day”?!

Picking a second band gets tougher. James is probably expecting me to say “Snow Patrol”, I’m sure, because I haven’t worn that CD out yet….. I lean towards Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, with my only hesitation being my experience seeing them a couple years ago & while it was mostly the sound system’s fault, it kinda sucked. JWo would want me to pick the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but I’d never get anything done, seeing as how I’d be throwing myself at everyone in the band, all the time. (Boy do they ever put on a good show, though, every time we’ve seen them!) Plus you’ve got to think about balance, what with U2 headlining the backyard.

So, while he’s not a band, per se, I’d have to go with Moby. Li’l Moby, with his ears-made-for-pulling, the techno-genius in a soundproofed apartment, spinning & twisting and making some seriously unique stuff. Plus – and this is TOTALLY breaking the pick-a-band rules – think of all the people he could call up to come in and perform for a day, as a guest artist!

Unfortunately for JWo, that won’t include Eminem……I think he’s gifted, but seriously, I don’t need that kind of anger in the backyard.

I have the most entertaining experiences at Costco. Last night, I went after work – hell-bent on getting a new Palm Pilot – only to discover I should “check back in August, for back-to-school.” Look, Cap’n PUTZ, just because APRIL begins with an “A”, too, doesn’t mean I can just sit back for four months and not hot-sync to all my appointments on my computer. Underneath the chaos you see before you lies a spirit that does love to label things, categorize, create workflow charts and link pages of spreadsheets to one another. So BACK UP, I will buy some other stuff, but I will NOT wait four months for a new organizer thingy. HRmph.

As a I strolled around the section featuring fans, I spied a hoochy-mamma with her white-trash-beautiful boyfriend, looking at the coffee selection. OH, I don’t normally notice everyone at CostCo, but when you’re wearing those giant clunky black platform Mary Janes, with white knee highs, and I can see your legs ALL THE WAY UP to about one inch below your crotch, where your middle section has been covered with a 12″ swath of ruffled Britney-Spears-schoolgirl-whore skirt, and then you are wearing a – folks, I cannot even remember exactly what her shirt was, I was so boggled by the short skirt, all the tattoos, and the chain she wore around her waist. It was basically a tied-up shirt, straight outta “Ooops I Have No Talent Again”, and she had a bunch of piercings on her face, which I avoided looking at more than once out of fear I’d be caught with a judgmental, I-can’t-believe-I’m-going-home-without-my-PalmPilot face. I contemplated buying a camera, just so I could surreptitiously take a picture of them, so you would really be able to SEE the train wreck shopping alongside me. We ended up in line around the same time, and I could see that while she dressed like a size two, she was several sizes up from that, which hey, I’m all for body and size confidence, at ANY size, but I’m also hung up on this thing called “good taste” and so if you can’t really fit into your little sister’s school uniform, then ya shouldn’t be skankin’ around CostCo in it, mmmkkkkay? And having extra adipose around the midsection doesn’t really translate to, “Hey, I’ll wear a dangly shiny chain around my naked exposed waist so EVERYbody looks and then sees all my tattoos.” They bought a ton of garbage bags – four CostCo sized boxes, and they were the big black garbage bags. That was it. Probably gonna have some freakshow cooking oil wrestlemania in the living room. Who knows. All I know is, I gotta get me a new PDA this weekend, I had the nicest service when I was checking out, and I went to Thai Place for carryout, where they noticed I’d gotten a haircut. I think that says I go there uhhhhhhhh kinda sorta a LOT, maybe.

We have a crabapple tree in front of our house, and when we first moved in to the house, it rained little sour fruit all over the driveway, creating a mess & causing JWo to grumble about his desire to cut it down. The next spring, we had about two days of blossoms – and they were stunning. He did some pruning, to reduce some of the overhang on the driveway, and I think we’ve arrived at a compromise. Yesterday I stood in the drive, as the wind blew soft pink petals all around me, and I felt like I was in a movie. Perhaps the lesson is that even the grouchiest of trees has the capacity to explode in beauty and loveliness.

Even though it’s not a cherry, this poem still rings true:

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now,
Is hung with bloom along the bough.
It stands along the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again.
Subtract from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since, to look at things in bloom,
Fifty springs is little room,
Along the woodland I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
-A.E. Housman

It’s Prom Season, and today’s paper had a whole feature on some teenage girls buying their prom dresses, and how one just HAD to splurge and spend $258 on THE dress. It got me thinking about my proms, and how my junior year prom subsisted of me in a borrowed, ill-fitting mauve satin number, and a bunch of “us girls” went together. I still have resentments towards my mother for making me borrow a dress, though she made up for it the following year. Senior year, I had a boyfriend, a real-live boyfriend, and a pale blue cocktail dress that had georgette layers on the bottom. My mother’s rationalization for letting me get that dress was that I could wear it again. Uh, yeah. For all those cocktail parties I attended in college – mm hmm! Nothing says dorm party like wearing pale blue georgette and pounding shots of rum. Anyway, I barely got to go to prom that year because I had a raging fever and quite honestly, I hardly remember either of the events – dancing, food, it’s just a blur.

But what I do remember is my junior year, day of the prom. The juniors put the prom on for the seniors. As class president, I got to basically steer the whole damn thing just how I wanted it to be. A party planner at an early age, I was, and still enjoy it – party planning, and being a control freak. So we had the theme, because you HAD to have a theme, based on a song, and ours was “We’re in Heaven”, by Bryan Adams. I spent hours looking through the big giant catalogs for things we could actually afford for decorations. We ended up doing silver & blue for the colors, and (also, crafty at an early age), we taped silver glittery stars together to form a triangle, with this white floaty cloud-like stuff coming out of the center. We had to build those at the country club, and of course, there was oodles of crepe paper and balloons, and all your standard prom crap. We had a rag-tag team of people bustling to get this party set up, and then still get home in time to PREPARE. However, one of the helpers was Peggy, you might recall her name from the Snow Queen post. Destined to be the next year’s Homecoming Queen, deemed the prettiest girl in our class, etc., etc., she was pitching in (before her own elaborate prom preparations) to help get the decorations up. She decided to stop doing crepe paper and help with the stars/cloud puffs. Within minutes, she was oooing and ahhhing over how soft the cloud puff stuff was. I can still see her, late afternoon sunlight streaming in, as she said, “This stuff is SO SOFT!” and she rubbed it up and down her bare arms.

Ah, yes, the joy of products made from FIBERGLASS. Oh, did I say fiberglass?

FIBERGLASS.

Yes. Yes it was. Our cloud puffin’ stuffin’ was essentially a very fine grade of fiberglass. I just stood there and watched her do it, & didn’t say a WORD. Because I may not have ever been in the running for prettiest girl at school? But I was one of the smart ones. And, apparently, one of the bitchy ones. After all, her date was a senior. Why not have some irritated skin for your big prom night?

Within ten minutes she had bumps everywhere she’d rubbed the fiberglass, including HER FACE. And she commenced with the freaking out.

I’m so going to hell, because it still makes me laugh.

Are you trying to hide from me? 

This would be the “Lightning Set Hunting Blind” from Cabela’s, which proudly proclaims to be a hunting blind you can set up in 10 seconds, because of its “innovative Lightening Hub”. Apparently they have not done indoor time trials for their marketing statements. James decided last night to open his up IN THE LIVING ROOM, and because – oh gosh, we have FURNITURE and things you don’t want to knock over, it took a bit longer, and he kept getting inside it & putting his arms through the windows, so he looked like a Hunting Blind Mascot. Coming to a ballpark near you.

I know, I know. I’ll love to eat the wild turkey he gets because of this purchase. But still. Just so you understand the SIZE of this thing? Interior height: 63″, Size: 84″ x 98″. Too big.

I don’t know if you watch this show? But I do. I am wayyyyyy too into it. I am FREAKING out. Because the poor dude (the one who was stressed out & went camping with his wife? ) THAT poor dude, who found the “football”? The thingy with ALL THE NUCLEAR REACTOR CODES? He is having the exact same luck I would, what with Marwan and his Evil Terrorist Goons coming after him, no matter where he runs. I am about to hyperventilate. Ah no. They’re getting shot at. My heart! The whole idea of being hunted just does not sit well with me. (Like I’m sure it does with you.)

James would sooooo be making fun of me right now. So so much fun. I wouldn’t even be able to laugh because my throat is so tight. OH great. Jack just lost his helper dude. He is under fire. This is not good.

Here’s an odd thing (at least in perspective of the past couple years):
It’s Monday morning, and I don’t feel like I’m wearing boots made of concrete!

The Weekend Retrospective: James took my car on Saturday to his waterfowler’s meeting, so I was depending on the kindness of strangers (well, ok, my best friend Shelley, who was up for an adventure)…. we went to the first big yarn sale at the Yarn Shop, which was VERY crowded (yes it was Chelle! and I’m a li’l claustrophobic too!) and there were bran’ new knittahs there, because one of them started asking my friend Shelley for advice and she tossed her right over to me. Poor thing was looking at one of THE most complicated patterns I’d ever seen, in hopes of making a sleeveless top for her daughter. We looked at some yarn together & I extolled my personal prejudices against 100% cotton, especially for a new knitter. (I’m such a hatah.) Anyway, I did manage to make some purchases, choosing the “cash/checks” line which was infinitely shorter.

I got two skeins of Lorna’s Laces pink/purple shepherd sock yarn, a skein of black sock yarn, two skeins of jaggerspun Zephyr silk/wool in Ruby, and one skein of ALP, which looks a little like novelty upchuck – it’s definitely a competitor to Wild Stuff/Cool Stuff, with loads of different yarns that change as you go! I got the ruby-red color scheme, it will make a very loud, fun scarf. And a couple things of stitch markers and a 47″ Addi – in a 0. Shelley observed that all the yarn I bought matched my red seatbelt bag purse. I musta been in a very red place.

However, that changed by the time we got to Nailcessities, because the next thing on our agenda was a mani/pedi, and I have pink chiclet fingernails & hot pink toes. It was awesome – they even will give you complimentary soft drinks &/or wine! Seein’ as how it was 10:30 in the morning, we passed on the vino. But all their pedicure chairs are shiatsu massage chairs, too, so I had a field day (and probably looked like an utter goofball.) Definitely going back. Then, Starbucks and Target – as I told James, the only thing missing from Saturday was THAI FOOD to make my day a banner day! Dammit Jen, we didn’t get that worked in. Yesterday we tried, but Thai 2000’s gas wasn’t working so we ended up at Ted Turner’s Montana Grill up by Cabela’s/NE Furniture Mart – where, for the first time in my life, I had to send my bison burger back TWICE because it kept coming out rare, and I can only do medium on ground anything. Wet raw meat does not make a Jen happy. To their credit, the restaurant staff was AWESOME about it, our waitress completely agreed that I was not being unreasonable, even though I was feeling a little nuts on the second try, and the cook even waited by the table on the 3rd burger to be sure it was done – and they took it off our bill. So we were pleased with the food, overall, and they didn’t even come near the Customer Service Hot Button gnome.

Well, we have this craaazy Monday morning status meeting & I thought I’d make it even better by bringing Lamar’s (because Lamar’s donuts have the power to turn even a funeral into a party)….so I best get ready and be ON TIME, again with that foreign, foreign concept. I would NEVER be a good schoolteacher. Plus wanting to put shock collars on the kiddos probably wouldn’t go over well, either. And the yardstick I’d be whackin’ on desks. And the megaphone. I love me a megaphone.