Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback, Ben Roethlisberger, was struck by a car while riding his motorcycle Monday morning. Roethlisberger, the youngest quarterback to win a Super Bowl at age 23, fractured his upper and lower jaw bones and broke his nose. He also sustained head lacerations in addition to losing two teeth and chipping several others. He underwent seven hours of surgery.
I have no problem with the fact that he was on a motorcycle or if he didn't a liscense. But Ben wasn't wearing a helmet. And I can't believe he could be so stupid.
Whatever happened to an ounce of prevention goes a long way? But of course there still aren't people wearing saftey belts, sunscreen, condoms and the like.
Pennsylvania law doesn't require people to wear helmets, so against the advice of his coach and others, Big Ben decided he'd go without. And he could have lost his career and his life instead of a couple of teeth.
I wish Big Ben a speedy recovery ... but next time Ben, put on a helmet ... and wear some sunscreen!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Sunday, June 11, 2006
I don't know what happened ...
When I was a freshman in college something happened that I never dreamed would occur. I was involved in a bit of drama. Over a boy. Damn.
I didn’t see it coming, but once it hit, I could have walked away. So I suppose I’m to blame for not walking away.
I swore I’d never choose a boy over a friend. I still don’t think I did. I feel she chose him over me.
She is a relative. We called each other our favorite. We played together, exchanged presents at the festive holidays and birthdays. Vacationed together. Our parents stood up in each other’s weddings. She was the first person I felt comfortable with feeling “me.”
Our mantra was always “we should get together and do something.” It never happened.
So zip to my graduation party. (May 19, 2001) It was a friends-family mix. Throughout my senior year my friends and her had interacted, at school competitions, going to sporting events together. She kept disappearing.
I found her on the front step in my garage. “I’m going to break up with him,” she said.
This relationship has been … on and off or never was. I’m not really sure. When he was crushing on her she wasn’t interested and visa versa.
Later (It was the last day of school, so … May 31-ish) I get a phone call or IM (I don’t remember which), with a tearful exclamation of “He broke up with me.” She was so distraught that I completely forgot that she was going to do the very thing herself.
So eventually she stopped being so distraught, but not completely better. “Annoy him,” she said to me. “He never emails anyone. Email him everyday to drive him crazy.” Well, it was the least I could do.
Her mistake or mine?
He emailed back (July 6). Shock from all, and a little disbelief. The emails continued, and they were odd. Funny, silly, bizarre. And they felt like home.
And I realize what that says about me.
During this time I was involved with someone. Seemly boyfriend material. Decent job, some higher education. Paid for everything on dates. Worshiped the ground I walked on, but didn’t appreciate my shoes.
Needless to say, it didn’t last long. And I was not in the frame of mind of looking for a boyfriend …at least not until fall and college started. College. Not a sophomore in high school.
But the emails continued, and then she told him he couldn’t email me anymore (July 17). Maybe we worked out whatever caused it, because the emails still continued.
And at this point I wonder if this is a way for her to stay connected to him. Because I fed her information. She asked, I asked, he answered. He answered my questions.
He and I knew of each other since Elementary school. We met in at a wrestling match. Then at a football scrimmage.
“Come with me, Stacey,” she said. “He’ll be there and I can’t face him alone.”
I was so nervous, and I couldn’t figure out why. We walk down the sidelines, and there he was with that goofy smile. And we bonded over Family Guy.
And of course she was mad. Over the next few weeks she took it out on him, causing trouble for him in school. Yelling at him. Telling him we couldn’t be friends. Complaining I liked him more than her.
I didn’t. I told her I don’t rate friends. I wouldn’t trade one Lindsey for a Kerry. He was just different, and fun to talk to. It was my freshman year of college, everyone was moving away, and in this time, friends, no matter who they were, were very important. Including her.
Emails led to IMs. I went to a few of his football games. She told him he couldn’t like me or date me. He said he had no interest in me. I never considered him anymore than her ex-boyfriend.
I was still trying to help her move on. I don’t know what to say at this point. She really wasn’t into him, but the thought of him. Or what they once had or what she felt when she had a crush on him or the attention he paid her when he had a crush on her.
I remember going to a volleyball game with her and on the way home I told her that it was over. He wasn’t interested, and she needed to move on so they could still be friends. One day she’s scoping out all the cute guys, the next day she wanted him.
Then he asked me to a movie. I was feeling lonely because all my friends were away. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about us. Then we realized it was the first thing he and I did without her.
Oh shit.
So this is probably where I become a bitch. I went over to her house. And told her. Before I went he and I discussed who should tell her and how we should deal with it. I don’t remember the conversation, I remember “Even Stevens” was on television and her blank stare. And I think I told her that we had fun and enjoyed being friends …but it wasn’t romantic, because had a crush on my chemistry partner.
He cared about her as a friend and truly wanted things to be “right” and everyone to be happy. He continually asked me how to make it better. And I advised to by best ability, which really didn’t help.
Several different times both of us had said “I won’t talk to you anymore if this is too much trouble.” Each time we said it was worth it. It still is.
We went to the homecoming dance together and she ignored me.
Even though all of this was my fault … I felt betrayed by her. Her friend liked him and would talk bad about me. And she never defended me. Some say, she talked bad as well.
Christmas she and I exchanged gifts … but I think that’s the last time we talked. Four years. She was my best friend, and she hasn’t spoken to me in four years.
I never wanted the drama. It’s too bad I met him like that. Sometimes I’m ashamed of the way we met.
But if I had to do it again … I’d still get involved.
I didn’t see it coming, but once it hit, I could have walked away. So I suppose I’m to blame for not walking away.
I swore I’d never choose a boy over a friend. I still don’t think I did. I feel she chose him over me.
She is a relative. We called each other our favorite. We played together, exchanged presents at the festive holidays and birthdays. Vacationed together. Our parents stood up in each other’s weddings. She was the first person I felt comfortable with feeling “me.”
Our mantra was always “we should get together and do something.” It never happened.
So zip to my graduation party. (May 19, 2001) It was a friends-family mix. Throughout my senior year my friends and her had interacted, at school competitions, going to sporting events together. She kept disappearing.
I found her on the front step in my garage. “I’m going to break up with him,” she said.
This relationship has been … on and off or never was. I’m not really sure. When he was crushing on her she wasn’t interested and visa versa.
Later (It was the last day of school, so … May 31-ish) I get a phone call or IM (I don’t remember which), with a tearful exclamation of “He broke up with me.” She was so distraught that I completely forgot that she was going to do the very thing herself.
So eventually she stopped being so distraught, but not completely better. “Annoy him,” she said to me. “He never emails anyone. Email him everyday to drive him crazy.” Well, it was the least I could do.
Her mistake or mine?
He emailed back (July 6). Shock from all, and a little disbelief. The emails continued, and they were odd. Funny, silly, bizarre. And they felt like home.
And I realize what that says about me.
During this time I was involved with someone. Seemly boyfriend material. Decent job, some higher education. Paid for everything on dates. Worshiped the ground I walked on, but didn’t appreciate my shoes.
Needless to say, it didn’t last long. And I was not in the frame of mind of looking for a boyfriend …at least not until fall and college started. College. Not a sophomore in high school.
But the emails continued, and then she told him he couldn’t email me anymore (July 17). Maybe we worked out whatever caused it, because the emails still continued.
And at this point I wonder if this is a way for her to stay connected to him. Because I fed her information. She asked, I asked, he answered. He answered my questions.
He and I knew of each other since Elementary school. We met in at a wrestling match. Then at a football scrimmage.
“Come with me, Stacey,” she said. “He’ll be there and I can’t face him alone.”
I was so nervous, and I couldn’t figure out why. We walk down the sidelines, and there he was with that goofy smile. And we bonded over Family Guy.
And of course she was mad. Over the next few weeks she took it out on him, causing trouble for him in school. Yelling at him. Telling him we couldn’t be friends. Complaining I liked him more than her.
I didn’t. I told her I don’t rate friends. I wouldn’t trade one Lindsey for a Kerry. He was just different, and fun to talk to. It was my freshman year of college, everyone was moving away, and in this time, friends, no matter who they were, were very important. Including her.
Emails led to IMs. I went to a few of his football games. She told him he couldn’t like me or date me. He said he had no interest in me. I never considered him anymore than her ex-boyfriend.
I was still trying to help her move on. I don’t know what to say at this point. She really wasn’t into him, but the thought of him. Or what they once had or what she felt when she had a crush on him or the attention he paid her when he had a crush on her.
I remember going to a volleyball game with her and on the way home I told her that it was over. He wasn’t interested, and she needed to move on so they could still be friends. One day she’s scoping out all the cute guys, the next day she wanted him.
Then he asked me to a movie. I was feeling lonely because all my friends were away. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t even about us. Then we realized it was the first thing he and I did without her.
Oh shit.
So this is probably where I become a bitch. I went over to her house. And told her. Before I went he and I discussed who should tell her and how we should deal with it. I don’t remember the conversation, I remember “Even Stevens” was on television and her blank stare. And I think I told her that we had fun and enjoyed being friends …but it wasn’t romantic, because had a crush on my chemistry partner.
He cared about her as a friend and truly wanted things to be “right” and everyone to be happy. He continually asked me how to make it better. And I advised to by best ability, which really didn’t help.
Several different times both of us had said “I won’t talk to you anymore if this is too much trouble.” Each time we said it was worth it. It still is.
We went to the homecoming dance together and she ignored me.
Even though all of this was my fault … I felt betrayed by her. Her friend liked him and would talk bad about me. And she never defended me. Some say, she talked bad as well.
Christmas she and I exchanged gifts … but I think that’s the last time we talked. Four years. She was my best friend, and she hasn’t spoken to me in four years.
I never wanted the drama. It’s too bad I met him like that. Sometimes I’m ashamed of the way we met.
But if I had to do it again … I’d still get involved.
Sunday, June 4, 2006
Sdo ... and ... the other one who doesn't talk.
So what can I tell you this morning? Have you ever noticed my blogs are from Sundays? I guess Sunday mornings are when I can take things slow, do what I want, not be distracted or feel bad because I'm not being productive.
I have this perpetual state of guilt for not being productive ... and yet as I look at my room and other things ... I see that I'm generally not a productive person.
It's a wonder how I accomplished as much as I did in school. In fact, I wonder how I did it.
Some times I feel like I have split personalities ... *hums ode to Kerry, does it sound like the baby goat song? perhaps, but maybe more slow and mellow to fit the sunday morning mantra*
I had to be a somewhat overachieving person to get a gpa that earned me summa cum laude, be involved in the random clubs and activities, jobs and internships.
And yet ... I feel like the laziest person ever. Every weekend my desk is stacked with clothes that need to be put away, the damn drinking glasses stack up everywhere. I'm even too lazy to read now. It feels like all I do is watch tv and be on the computer. And yet ... since it's my fourth? month as an Accordian Thief, I reflect that my computer time is down. DUe to slow internet? possibly.
Why are these my activities? Because they let me unwind. Because I concentrate so much at work. Because I'm just so tired when I come home that I don't feel like doing anything else.
I feel split also from the intervert/extrovert tendencies. I feel like a totally different person when I'm sitting with family or my parent's friends. I suppose I appear antisocial to them. And that does truly makes me feel bad. I suppose I just don't know how to relate to them. And yet, yesterday I was in a parade, handing out stickers. While we were waiting we were all just hanging out, laughing, talking ... fun times.
As we were in the parade (and now that I think about it ... I think this was the first time I've walked in a parade .... was this the first time I've been in a parade???) Jeanne, a coworker, was in the crowd. "STACEY, STACEY!" I hear. I turn and there's Jeanne ... she comes to me and we exchange quick words, "We just started, I don't see the van, love the shirt, have a great time ..." a hug and yelling at her to take a sticker and I'm off again.
Of course there are all the public speaking encounters over the past three years .... Registrations, Transfer, Campus Preview Panels and now presentations and trainings. I've probably spoke to more than 500 people ... as a low estimate.
Would my family recognize me at these?
During an interpersonal communication class (freshman year?) this arogant kid all about drinking and the like turns around to me one day and asks, "Do you ever talk?" I think I smiled and said yes, all in good time. (Thinking, not to you. I have nothing to say.)
Later, I told Jeff this and he laughed. Who's that Stacey? he asks. Whenever I remind him that I'm and intervert he rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, right."
When I was in high school they made me feel like being the intervert was bad. That you should try to be an extrovert ... they were better, they would get further in life. The extroverts were the jocks/cheerleaders or the choir people or the play people. You want to be like them. So I tried to be like them ... and I felt so fake. It didn't last for long.
In college, especially with Phil, they told us that every type is needed. We all make the world go round and we each have our balanced faults and talents because of it. Now, some probably call this fluffy hippy crap.
Maybe I'm a fluffy hippy.
But I don't try to be who I'm not anymore. I don't mind listening to conversation when I have nothing to add. I don't mind completely leading the conversation and taking control when I need to. I get a little nervous beofre speaking, but I'm getting better of talking off the top of my head.
I don't like drinking to get drunk. I don't like going to smoky bars to spend way too much money on a couple of drinks. But I'm not against making margaritas, uncorking a bottle of wine and then entertaining friends with mispelled words late into the night.
I crave the sophication, technology and high class lifestyle city life can bring. But I hate the concrete, the crowds and driving through traffic.
I love nature and enjoying our garden ... hate that there's no where to go or the long way to travel.
I love dispearing in the crowd and doing whatever the heck we want b/c no one knows us and will probably never see us again.
I like being the one everyone knows and when they have something to say to me.
So basically, I don't know what to do with myself.
I have potential job opportunities in North Carolina and Atlanta. And both sides of me have differnt opinions of them....like always i guess.
I was happy in sixth grade.
I hated 7th.
I felt comfortable in 8th.
I did my best to feel my way around 9th and 10th.
Junior and Senior year we had blast.
In high school I was excited to graduate and go to college to get rid of the dumb people, the people who didn't care ... find more people like me.
In college I realized the dumb people never leave.
In college I was looking forward to the "real world work force" for the resposible dedicated people.
Sometimes I feel like I'm back in high school.
The grass truly is greener on the other side. And sometimes I feel bad for the people who think leaving will make things better. Because I don't want to be the one who comes back b/c they couldn't make it.
I have this perpetual state of guilt for not being productive ... and yet as I look at my room and other things ... I see that I'm generally not a productive person.
It's a wonder how I accomplished as much as I did in school. In fact, I wonder how I did it.
Some times I feel like I have split personalities ... *hums ode to Kerry, does it sound like the baby goat song? perhaps, but maybe more slow and mellow to fit the sunday morning mantra*
I had to be a somewhat overachieving person to get a gpa that earned me summa cum laude, be involved in the random clubs and activities, jobs and internships.
And yet ... I feel like the laziest person ever. Every weekend my desk is stacked with clothes that need to be put away, the damn drinking glasses stack up everywhere. I'm even too lazy to read now. It feels like all I do is watch tv and be on the computer. And yet ... since it's my fourth? month as an Accordian Thief, I reflect that my computer time is down. DUe to slow internet? possibly.
Why are these my activities? Because they let me unwind. Because I concentrate so much at work. Because I'm just so tired when I come home that I don't feel like doing anything else.
I feel split also from the intervert/extrovert tendencies. I feel like a totally different person when I'm sitting with family or my parent's friends. I suppose I appear antisocial to them. And that does truly makes me feel bad. I suppose I just don't know how to relate to them. And yet, yesterday I was in a parade, handing out stickers. While we were waiting we were all just hanging out, laughing, talking ... fun times.
As we were in the parade (and now that I think about it ... I think this was the first time I've walked in a parade .... was this the first time I've been in a parade???) Jeanne, a coworker, was in the crowd. "STACEY, STACEY!" I hear. I turn and there's Jeanne ... she comes to me and we exchange quick words, "We just started, I don't see the van, love the shirt, have a great time ..." a hug and yelling at her to take a sticker and I'm off again.
Of course there are all the public speaking encounters over the past three years .... Registrations, Transfer, Campus Preview Panels and now presentations and trainings. I've probably spoke to more than 500 people ... as a low estimate.
Would my family recognize me at these?
During an interpersonal communication class (freshman year?) this arogant kid all about drinking and the like turns around to me one day and asks, "Do you ever talk?" I think I smiled and said yes, all in good time. (Thinking, not to you. I have nothing to say.)
Later, I told Jeff this and he laughed. Who's that Stacey? he asks. Whenever I remind him that I'm and intervert he rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, right."
When I was in high school they made me feel like being the intervert was bad. That you should try to be an extrovert ... they were better, they would get further in life. The extroverts were the jocks/cheerleaders or the choir people or the play people. You want to be like them. So I tried to be like them ... and I felt so fake. It didn't last for long.
In college, especially with Phil, they told us that every type is needed. We all make the world go round and we each have our balanced faults and talents because of it. Now, some probably call this fluffy hippy crap.
Maybe I'm a fluffy hippy.
But I don't try to be who I'm not anymore. I don't mind listening to conversation when I have nothing to add. I don't mind completely leading the conversation and taking control when I need to. I get a little nervous beofre speaking, but I'm getting better of talking off the top of my head.
I don't like drinking to get drunk. I don't like going to smoky bars to spend way too much money on a couple of drinks. But I'm not against making margaritas, uncorking a bottle of wine and then entertaining friends with mispelled words late into the night.
I crave the sophication, technology and high class lifestyle city life can bring. But I hate the concrete, the crowds and driving through traffic.
I love nature and enjoying our garden ... hate that there's no where to go or the long way to travel.
I love dispearing in the crowd and doing whatever the heck we want b/c no one knows us and will probably never see us again.
I like being the one everyone knows and when they have something to say to me.
So basically, I don't know what to do with myself.
I have potential job opportunities in North Carolina and Atlanta. And both sides of me have differnt opinions of them....like always i guess.
I was happy in sixth grade.
I hated 7th.
I felt comfortable in 8th.
I did my best to feel my way around 9th and 10th.
Junior and Senior year we had blast.
In high school I was excited to graduate and go to college to get rid of the dumb people, the people who didn't care ... find more people like me.
In college I realized the dumb people never leave.
In college I was looking forward to the "real world work force" for the resposible dedicated people.
Sometimes I feel like I'm back in high school.
The grass truly is greener on the other side. And sometimes I feel bad for the people who think leaving will make things better. Because I don't want to be the one who comes back b/c they couldn't make it.
Thought of the Moment: "I'm a paranoid schizophrenic. I am my own entourage." ~ Eddie from "America's Sweethearts"
~ Footnote: Long live Blurring the Edges!~
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Kiss of Death
I was mixing chocolate pudding my with my grape nuts for breakfast. "What are you doing?" I was asked.
My response: the milk is going bad, I'm not eating it on cereal. Pudding has some semblance of calcium ... it'll do the trick.
"Speaking of milk," my mom said, "I went in the barn the other day and the little kitty ... "
"What?! Was she down? Was she missing?" * Silence * Good lord let her be missing. "Is she dead?"
Mom nods her head. "She wasn't moving much and was kind of cool to the touch."
I tore back to my room, throwing on clothes. Putting on shoes I run out to the shed.
The ladder is put away. My heart sinks.
I climb the saw horses. Mom comes in. "She's not up there anymore."
I jump down. The baby is laying in a pail on a bed of sawdust. I look down on her.
"She's not breathing," Mom says.
I gently shake the pail. No movement. I touch her with the back of my fingers. Her eyes are somewhat open. I shake the pail again.
Nothing.
I was just out here two days ago. She was moving around, starting to play. I was going to bring out toys so I could amuse her more.
If only I had come out here yesterday .... how could she have turned so fast?
My head immediately goes through all the cats that have died over the years.
The tiny one who was born in November--he was tan and striped. None of the other cats would go by him. I got busy and didn't come by him for a week. It got too cold.
The four babies who were abandoned by their momma. They were the hardest. We brought them inside to feed and try to keep warm. Watching them decline from balls of fur, skinnier, weak, to picking up limp bodies trying to get food in the mouth. I cried so much. I've never been so close to death that i could feel life slipping away.
My beautiful, talented Mr. Ripley ... the cat who could fetch tennis balls. I'm not sure anymore what happened to him.
Besides me. The kiss of death. The cats I liked would die, leaving the mean ones. Every time. Thoughts of what could I have done differently to save them ... or her? DId Fergie stop feeding her because I would pet her? No ... it wouldn't have taken that fast. Did I get her sick by bringing her in the house last week? Did she fall over the edge and hit her head or break her neck? I should have put her on the bottom level when I saw her playing at the edge ... :-(
It was hard for me to lose these cats over the years. As I got older I was able to handle it better, not be as attached.
I didn't even name this little one. I knew she would either start hating me or die. But I still thought she might be different. I thought maybe I would have a friend for the summer. And then maybe I could move out and have her inside. She was so fluffy and furry and calm, with a white tipped tail.
I saw on the news the other day that inside cats have double the lifespan than their outside counterparts. Damn the inevitiable heartbreak.
My response: the milk is going bad, I'm not eating it on cereal. Pudding has some semblance of calcium ... it'll do the trick.
"Speaking of milk," my mom said, "I went in the barn the other day and the little kitty ... "
"What?! Was she down? Was she missing?" * Silence * Good lord let her be missing. "Is she dead?"
Mom nods her head. "She wasn't moving much and was kind of cool to the touch."
I tore back to my room, throwing on clothes. Putting on shoes I run out to the shed.
The ladder is put away. My heart sinks.
I climb the saw horses. Mom comes in. "She's not up there anymore."
I jump down. The baby is laying in a pail on a bed of sawdust. I look down on her.
"She's not breathing," Mom says.
I gently shake the pail. No movement. I touch her with the back of my fingers. Her eyes are somewhat open. I shake the pail again.
Nothing.
I was just out here two days ago. She was moving around, starting to play. I was going to bring out toys so I could amuse her more.
If only I had come out here yesterday .... how could she have turned so fast?
My head immediately goes through all the cats that have died over the years.
The tiny one who was born in November--he was tan and striped. None of the other cats would go by him. I got busy and didn't come by him for a week. It got too cold.
The four babies who were abandoned by their momma. They were the hardest. We brought them inside to feed and try to keep warm. Watching them decline from balls of fur, skinnier, weak, to picking up limp bodies trying to get food in the mouth. I cried so much. I've never been so close to death that i could feel life slipping away.
My beautiful, talented Mr. Ripley ... the cat who could fetch tennis balls. I'm not sure anymore what happened to him.
Besides me. The kiss of death. The cats I liked would die, leaving the mean ones. Every time. Thoughts of what could I have done differently to save them ... or her? DId Fergie stop feeding her because I would pet her? No ... it wouldn't have taken that fast. Did I get her sick by bringing her in the house last week? Did she fall over the edge and hit her head or break her neck? I should have put her on the bottom level when I saw her playing at the edge ... :-(
It was hard for me to lose these cats over the years. As I got older I was able to handle it better, not be as attached.
I didn't even name this little one. I knew she would either start hating me or die. But I still thought she might be different. I thought maybe I would have a friend for the summer. And then maybe I could move out and have her inside. She was so fluffy and furry and calm, with a white tipped tail.
I saw on the news the other day that inside cats have double the lifespan than their outside counterparts. Damn the inevitiable heartbreak.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
100 Hundred Facts about me
1. Eating raw onions gives me a headache.
2. I like my job.
3. I didn’t like my birthstone (emerald) until I watched Wizard of Oz.
4. I used to run from the kitchen to my room because I thought evil things lurking in the dark places would get me.
5. Cutting 12 inches of hair crossed off my life goal of getting my hair cut like John Rzeznik, lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls.
6. I have my ears pierced the same way Rzeznik does (or did in 2001).
7. My staple piece of jewelry is his trademark silver ball-bearing necklace.
8. I’ll trust you until you give me a reason not to, but once you do, stay away from me.
9. I am extremely loyal in everything I do, and I expect my counterparts to be as well.
10. I cried when I found out I needed glasses.
11. Now I wear my glasses more than my contacts.
12. I think I look cute in my glasses.
13. I used to read several books a week.
14. Since graduating from college, I have read two books cover to cover.
15. I don’t believe “The DaVinci Code” is completely fictional.
16. I don’t respect Eric Clapton because I feel he used his son’s death to sustain his celebrity.
17. I don’t like John Travolta. I don’t quite know why.
18. My nails aren’t very strong and break easily.
19. I love flowers, but think wedding roses are cliché.
20. My favorite flowers are irises and calla lilies.
21. My main character Family Guy hierarchy is: Brian, Stewie, Chris, Lois, Peter, Meg.
22. Van Gogh is my favorite artist.
23. My two best Goodwill finds are my Italian Espresso maker and Van Gogh orange vodka bottle.
24. I believe God comes to you in the way you can most easily comprehend.
25. My favorite animals are cats, ducks and llamas.
26. Don’t ask me what the deal with the llamas is. I don’t know.
27. My guilty viewing pleasure is the WWE.
28. I own two Green Bay Packer jerseys: Brett Favre and Travis Jervey.
29. I don’t remember the Thundercats, but my family tells me it was my favorite cartoon.
30. I’ve broken my left ankle, left clavicle and a couple of toes.
31. I have Lymes Disease. Before I was diagnosed I had a 104 fever. Three days of not sleeping. Four antibiotics. I wanted to die.
32. <-- My favorite number.
33. I’m a liberal democrat.
34. I don’t support the death penalty.
35. I love PBS.
36. Despite her attempts at world domination, I still like Martha Stewart.
37. When I was a kid, Tom Cruise was my favorite actor. Today it’s Matt Damon.
38. I used to think South Park with ignorant and immature. Now I’m hooked.
39. I have six piercings. I would like to get more.
40. Marilyn Manson completely fascinates me.
41. Ghost Whisper and Extreme Home Makeover make me cry every time.
42. I’ve never had braces, but my teeth are perfectly straight.
43. I don’t like milk chocolate.
44. My favorite cookies are Lemon Oat Laces.
45. I’m afraid of spiders and snakes.
46. I love the television series M*A*S*H*
47. I have a Quote Notebook where I collect fun and inspirational quotes.
48. I am Pro-Choice, though I don’t know if I would be strong enough to have an abortion.
49. In middle school I worried so much about everything I made myself sick.
50. I love watching cooking shows and trying out new techniques.
51. I don’t feel comfortable in my extended families anymore.
52. I believe in multiple soul mates rather than one romantic match.
53. I have only met one Viking fan I completely enjoy and respect.
54. A messy room makes me claustrophobic.
55. When I take trips, my new souvenir is to steal spoons. Just regular eating spoons.
56. I prefer white wine to red.
57. My eating weakness is at night.
58. I drink coffee for the taste of it, not the caffeine.
59. If I need to stay awake at night, coffee does help, but I’m not sure if it has the same effect in the morning.
60. I feel even though I graduated college with highest honors, have a full-time job in my degree and have a good start, my family judges me on my lack of mate rather than these accomplishments.
61. I don’t eat things I don’t like – it’s a wasteful use of calories.
62. I would love to have a cat in the house.
63. I love polishing silver; removing stains from clothes frustrates me.
64. I used to think Freddy Krueger would come out of the shower drain.
65. It wasn’t until high school that I first watched “IT” all the way through and realized the shower drain fear came from that movie.
66. I physically jumped back when it was revealed that IT was really a spider.
67. I have no time for people who put others down.
68. I’ve had a crush on a professor.
69. I didn’t like football until seventh grade.
70. I’m not naturally physically gifted or good at sports. But if I practice I’m pretty good.
71. I never get a chance to practice.
72. Math was my most difficult subject.
73. I was good at math when concepts were applied in physics and chemistry.
74. I’m worried about the future, but not sure how to plan for it.
75. I got a Rubik’s cube for my 19th birthday, but I haven’t solved it yet.
76. I don’t like beer, but I love Guinness.
77. I refuse to pledge my allegiance. Especially to a flag.
78. I’m terrified of becoming that crazy cat lady.
79. As a child, I hid in many places, crying because of the yelling in my house.
80. I’m not over the hurt of losing who I thought was a good friend.
81. Though it wasn’t an ideal situation, I wasn’t wrong. I accept the consequences.
82. I hate wearing socks. I hate soggy socks even more.
83. I think uniforms are sexy … and against my better judgment, that includes baseball.
84. If I have a son, I want to name him Derian Christopher.
85. I just recently realized that I do want to have children someday.
86. I hate going to the bank.
87. I love horror movies and am always looking for a movie to scare me.
88. I can fit my fist in my mouth.
89. I would like to be a published writer.
90. My eyes are always dilated.
91. I hate when women say (or act like) that they aren’t complete without a man.
92. With that said, what does an independent, strong woman who likes sports have to do to get a boyfriend?
93. I can use a computer mouse with either hand.
94. Accents are completely sexy, even the New York and Boston ones.
95. I want to improve my posture, but it feels like a losing battle.
96. I am completely, 100 percent against tanning whether it is in a bed or outside. I never go out in the summer sun without sun block.
97. September 11, 2001 deterred me from becoming a journalist.
98. I still love “The Monster at the End of this Book.”
99. I want to receive a master’s degree … I’m just not sure what it will be in.
100. I love Old Dutch’s Dill Pickle chips!
2. I like my job.
3. I didn’t like my birthstone (emerald) until I watched Wizard of Oz.
4. I used to run from the kitchen to my room because I thought evil things lurking in the dark places would get me.
5. Cutting 12 inches of hair crossed off my life goal of getting my hair cut like John Rzeznik, lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls.
6. I have my ears pierced the same way Rzeznik does (or did in 2001).
7. My staple piece of jewelry is his trademark silver ball-bearing necklace.
8. I’ll trust you until you give me a reason not to, but once you do, stay away from me.
9. I am extremely loyal in everything I do, and I expect my counterparts to be as well.
10. I cried when I found out I needed glasses.
11. Now I wear my glasses more than my contacts.
12. I think I look cute in my glasses.
13. I used to read several books a week.
14. Since graduating from college, I have read two books cover to cover.
15. I don’t believe “The DaVinci Code” is completely fictional.
16. I don’t respect Eric Clapton because I feel he used his son’s death to sustain his celebrity.
17. I don’t like John Travolta. I don’t quite know why.
18. My nails aren’t very strong and break easily.
19. I love flowers, but think wedding roses are cliché.
20. My favorite flowers are irises and calla lilies.
21. My main character Family Guy hierarchy is: Brian, Stewie, Chris, Lois, Peter, Meg.
22. Van Gogh is my favorite artist.
23. My two best Goodwill finds are my Italian Espresso maker and Van Gogh orange vodka bottle.
24. I believe God comes to you in the way you can most easily comprehend.
25. My favorite animals are cats, ducks and llamas.
26. Don’t ask me what the deal with the llamas is. I don’t know.
27. My guilty viewing pleasure is the WWE.
28. I own two Green Bay Packer jerseys: Brett Favre and Travis Jervey.
29. I don’t remember the Thundercats, but my family tells me it was my favorite cartoon.
30. I’ve broken my left ankle, left clavicle and a couple of toes.
31. I have Lymes Disease. Before I was diagnosed I had a 104 fever. Three days of not sleeping. Four antibiotics. I wanted to die.
32. <-- My favorite number.
33. I’m a liberal democrat.
34. I don’t support the death penalty.
35. I love PBS.
36. Despite her attempts at world domination, I still like Martha Stewart.
37. When I was a kid, Tom Cruise was my favorite actor. Today it’s Matt Damon.
38. I used to think South Park with ignorant and immature. Now I’m hooked.
39. I have six piercings. I would like to get more.
40. Marilyn Manson completely fascinates me.
41. Ghost Whisper and Extreme Home Makeover make me cry every time.
42. I’ve never had braces, but my teeth are perfectly straight.
43. I don’t like milk chocolate.
44. My favorite cookies are Lemon Oat Laces.
45. I’m afraid of spiders and snakes.
46. I love the television series M*A*S*H*
47. I have a Quote Notebook where I collect fun and inspirational quotes.
48. I am Pro-Choice, though I don’t know if I would be strong enough to have an abortion.
49. In middle school I worried so much about everything I made myself sick.
50. I love watching cooking shows and trying out new techniques.
51. I don’t feel comfortable in my extended families anymore.
52. I believe in multiple soul mates rather than one romantic match.
53. I have only met one Viking fan I completely enjoy and respect.
54. A messy room makes me claustrophobic.
55. When I take trips, my new souvenir is to steal spoons. Just regular eating spoons.
56. I prefer white wine to red.
57. My eating weakness is at night.
58. I drink coffee for the taste of it, not the caffeine.
59. If I need to stay awake at night, coffee does help, but I’m not sure if it has the same effect in the morning.
60. I feel even though I graduated college with highest honors, have a full-time job in my degree and have a good start, my family judges me on my lack of mate rather than these accomplishments.
61. I don’t eat things I don’t like – it’s a wasteful use of calories.
62. I would love to have a cat in the house.
63. I love polishing silver; removing stains from clothes frustrates me.
64. I used to think Freddy Krueger would come out of the shower drain.
65. It wasn’t until high school that I first watched “IT” all the way through and realized the shower drain fear came from that movie.
66. I physically jumped back when it was revealed that IT was really a spider.
67. I have no time for people who put others down.
68. I’ve had a crush on a professor.
69. I didn’t like football until seventh grade.
70. I’m not naturally physically gifted or good at sports. But if I practice I’m pretty good.
71. I never get a chance to practice.
72. Math was my most difficult subject.
73. I was good at math when concepts were applied in physics and chemistry.
74. I’m worried about the future, but not sure how to plan for it.
75. I got a Rubik’s cube for my 19th birthday, but I haven’t solved it yet.
76. I don’t like beer, but I love Guinness.
77. I refuse to pledge my allegiance. Especially to a flag.
78. I’m terrified of becoming that crazy cat lady.
79. As a child, I hid in many places, crying because of the yelling in my house.
80. I’m not over the hurt of losing who I thought was a good friend.
81. Though it wasn’t an ideal situation, I wasn’t wrong. I accept the consequences.
82. I hate wearing socks. I hate soggy socks even more.
83. I think uniforms are sexy … and against my better judgment, that includes baseball.
84. If I have a son, I want to name him Derian Christopher.
85. I just recently realized that I do want to have children someday.
86. I hate going to the bank.
87. I love horror movies and am always looking for a movie to scare me.
88. I can fit my fist in my mouth.
89. I would like to be a published writer.
90. My eyes are always dilated.
91. I hate when women say (or act like) that they aren’t complete without a man.
92. With that said, what does an independent, strong woman who likes sports have to do to get a boyfriend?
93. I can use a computer mouse with either hand.
94. Accents are completely sexy, even the New York and Boston ones.
95. I want to improve my posture, but it feels like a losing battle.
96. I am completely, 100 percent against tanning whether it is in a bed or outside. I never go out in the summer sun without sun block.
97. September 11, 2001 deterred me from becoming a journalist.
98. I still love “The Monster at the End of this Book.”
99. I want to receive a master’s degree … I’m just not sure what it will be in.
100. I love Old Dutch’s Dill Pickle chips!
Friday, May 12, 2006
Brett Favre's Farewell Tour
When Brett Favre finally made his decision I was relieved. Not because he would come back and play for the Packers, I was preparing myself for his departure. I was just glad to have the speculation and bad-mouthing of Brett Favre over. I completely agree he needed to make a decision. The comment he made “there’s still about 120 days left until the season opener” made me cringe. Colin Cowherd from ESPN Radio said Brett was like a woman. “Does this dress make my butt look big? Do I look fat in this? This color or stripes?” – Just pick a damn dress already!
In general everyone took it too far. Brett Favre holding the team hostage? Whatever. I think Ted Thompson has the stones to do everything in his power to make Favre want to leave without telling him to. And in the beginning we thought that’s what he was doing letting Ryan Longwell, Mike Flanagan and crew go.
No they wouldn’t have cut Favre or trade him. It needed to be Favre's decision to avoid riots.
Comparing Favre to Walker. That argument had no credibility. Walker threatened holdout. Walker wouldn’t play because he felt that after one successful year he was worth more money. Walker aired his internal grievances with the media.
Favre was pondering a decision. He wanted to make the best decision for his family, for mind and body and finally, yes … even for the Packers. At this point in his career … does the money make a difference? Not really. He can earn whatever he’s due through the contract through endorsements, book deals, or getting in the business (sports caster, anchor, coach, etc.). He never once made a negative comment against the organization.
So why did they use their first round pick on QB-Aaron Rodgers last year if Favre’s coming back? Just what everyone has been saying it was used for: to draft a future quarterback. No one thought Matt Hasselbeck was anything special. Aaron Brooks, Mark Brunell or any number of the other quarterbacks the Packers have drafted in Favre’s tenure as gunslinger.
I think it’s great that Rodgers is getting another year to sit and learn. As Eli has found out …not all first-round QB’s can win like Payton Manning. An article said Rodgers is losing millions by sitting again this year. Maybe. But what if he takes the experience and knowledge he picks up from two years of Brett Favre to go on and have a successful 15-year career? Will he then look back and regret these two years?
I was pretty nonchalant with the announcement. I opened the last bottle of Californian wine to celebrate, but really I wasn’t as excited as I thought I was going to be.
Until I saw footage from the first minicamp. It brought back that old fire in me to see Favre throwing bullets to the rookies and old favorites. I couldn’t wait for kick off (even without Ryan) when I saw the interaction between Rodgers and Favre. Rodgers grabbed Favre’s helmet and pulled it off by the facemask. Then Favre rolled up his sleeves and showed anyone who was interested his guns. The playful banter between the two reminded me of the three amigos … when we all were carefree and not tainted by the greed and stupidity that comes with success.
Everyone debates what’s the best way for any player to exit: on top, one last stab at glory or injury. I don’t have an answer for that. When I think Steve Young I think of the success, but also the career ending hit that left him motionless on the field for four minutes. When I think of Dan Marino I think of all those average years of the Dolphins, but also the exceptional QB. I don’t remember the score of the last game he played in or their record.
My nugget of advice to the three-time MVP: Make your decision now. Is this your last year? Want to go for another? Tell us. Get the monkey off your back before it starts throwing banana peels. The team, fans, country … and maybe even you … need a year to say goodbye.
In general everyone took it too far. Brett Favre holding the team hostage? Whatever. I think Ted Thompson has the stones to do everything in his power to make Favre want to leave without telling him to. And in the beginning we thought that’s what he was doing letting Ryan Longwell, Mike Flanagan and crew go.
No they wouldn’t have cut Favre or trade him. It needed to be Favre's decision to avoid riots.
Comparing Favre to Walker. That argument had no credibility. Walker threatened holdout. Walker wouldn’t play because he felt that after one successful year he was worth more money. Walker aired his internal grievances with the media.
Favre was pondering a decision. He wanted to make the best decision for his family, for mind and body and finally, yes … even for the Packers. At this point in his career … does the money make a difference? Not really. He can earn whatever he’s due through the contract through endorsements, book deals, or getting in the business (sports caster, anchor, coach, etc.). He never once made a negative comment against the organization.
So why did they use their first round pick on QB-Aaron Rodgers last year if Favre’s coming back? Just what everyone has been saying it was used for: to draft a future quarterback. No one thought Matt Hasselbeck was anything special. Aaron Brooks, Mark Brunell or any number of the other quarterbacks the Packers have drafted in Favre’s tenure as gunslinger.
I think it’s great that Rodgers is getting another year to sit and learn. As Eli has found out …not all first-round QB’s can win like Payton Manning. An article said Rodgers is losing millions by sitting again this year. Maybe. But what if he takes the experience and knowledge he picks up from two years of Brett Favre to go on and have a successful 15-year career? Will he then look back and regret these two years?
I was pretty nonchalant with the announcement. I opened the last bottle of Californian wine to celebrate, but really I wasn’t as excited as I thought I was going to be.
Until I saw footage from the first minicamp. It brought back that old fire in me to see Favre throwing bullets to the rookies and old favorites. I couldn’t wait for kick off (even without Ryan) when I saw the interaction between Rodgers and Favre. Rodgers grabbed Favre’s helmet and pulled it off by the facemask. Then Favre rolled up his sleeves and showed anyone who was interested his guns. The playful banter between the two reminded me of the three amigos … when we all were carefree and not tainted by the greed and stupidity that comes with success.
Everyone debates what’s the best way for any player to exit: on top, one last stab at glory or injury. I don’t have an answer for that. When I think Steve Young I think of the success, but also the career ending hit that left him motionless on the field for four minutes. When I think of Dan Marino I think of all those average years of the Dolphins, but also the exceptional QB. I don’t remember the score of the last game he played in or their record.
My nugget of advice to the three-time MVP: Make your decision now. Is this your last year? Want to go for another? Tell us. Get the monkey off your back before it starts throwing banana peels. The team, fans, country … and maybe even you … need a year to say goodbye.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
This morning, I cut apart a slinky. it was my neon rainbow slinky. I don't remember where or when I got. And true, it wasn't a prized posession. But it was a pretty cool toy. Not everyone had a rainbow slinky.
I was (and would still like to be) a selective toy-sharer. I never had problems when my friends came over. My toys were their toys when we frolicked together in the land of make-believe. I'm sure I had my favorite doll or whatever, but it was usually no-holds-barred playing.
Sharing with my family, on the other hand, is a whole different toy-sharing issue. I always hated our family hosting Thanksgiving ... because people would get into my stuff. And read: when I say "get into" that would always lead to BREAK or LOSE. Note that it wasn't a vendetta against me ... they were like that with everyone's toys. Was I? I duuno. And if I was, cousins, I apologize.
My family, when playing with other people's stuff, is careless, thoughtless, crude and just plain reckless. With this approach, breakage is inevitable. Then they leave the scene of the crime and hope no one notices until everyone is gone.
Games are missing pieces, my Clue game was destroyed (still mad at this), red clay was ground into the *NEW* carpet in the hallway and Barbie doll room, along with many spilled pops and left to their own devices ... Jason and Michael made the wall full of hundreds of tiny holes b/c I didn't supervise them when they were playing darts. My god, I told them to becareful since it was just on the wall ... they were 10 or so, that was a huge mistake.
We figured out a system to combat the toy breakage. Anything in the patio was free range. Barbie doll room was only if I was there and anything of value in my room was put away before the family gathering.
And to put the destruction of my family into perspective for you, I'll map out the disrespect ... My cousin Sara and I were playing with my barbies ... okay so far, so good. She has my new ken doll with the brown hair (rare in those days) and she breaks the head off. It's kind of scary/impressive the detail I remember this in. My eyes got wide, I was shocked....that was my newest doll! She shrugs her shoulders, and shoves the head back on ... (and if you played with barbies at all, you'll know that the shove method rarely fixes it for a long period of time).
She didn't blink an eye, say she was sorry or show any remorse or concern for destroying my toy. This should have been a lesson to me. After all, they say we live as we once played. Nonetheless, tangent adverted ....
Somehow the rules stopped being in effect ... I think it was when I moved to Green Bay. Suddenly anyone could play with my Barbies.
Okay, this sounds silly, trival and something a 22-year-old shouldn't be concerned with ... but I had a substancial Barbie collection... full kitcehen set, grocery store, food, entertainment center, bathtub, nursery and master bedroom. Not to mention the three story house with real carpet, vinal floor and wallpaper. This was something I was going to cherish and give to my children. This was my childhood.
Now little kids are playing with my barbies ... four year olds ... losing things, wrecking things, destroying their beautiful hair ...
Any little kids .. who's not even related just wanders back to the room and starts playing .. without asking! GODDAMMIT STAY OUT OF MY BARBIE DOLL ROOM!
After Jan Carl's little terror wrecked some stuff, mom put away most of clothes, dolls and all the little things. Good.
But really .. it's hard to be the bitch who says you can't play in there ... so I guess I just need to keep putting things away (brief break to put away the two best dolls and more little items).
Now, my nieces are respectful. I love Erika (Happy Birthday, btw), sighing when she walks in and sees a mess. Before she does anything else, she straightens everything out, arranges the furniture nicely, and puts away the little things. Courtney is like that too. They can play. They are welcome to play. Because they aren't going to break anything! They realize .. somehow .. that what they are playing with is special. Joannie's Ashley is the same.
So I sit here, looking at the three barely useable slinky segments. And where was the slinky? Shoved on the top of the house, by one little devil, hoping no one would notice the kinks in the coil that makes the toy un-slinkable.
I was (and would still like to be) a selective toy-sharer. I never had problems when my friends came over. My toys were their toys when we frolicked together in the land of make-believe. I'm sure I had my favorite doll or whatever, but it was usually no-holds-barred playing.
Sharing with my family, on the other hand, is a whole different toy-sharing issue. I always hated our family hosting Thanksgiving ... because people would get into my stuff. And read: when I say "get into" that would always lead to BREAK or LOSE. Note that it wasn't a vendetta against me ... they were like that with everyone's toys. Was I? I duuno. And if I was, cousins, I apologize.
My family, when playing with other people's stuff, is careless, thoughtless, crude and just plain reckless. With this approach, breakage is inevitable. Then they leave the scene of the crime and hope no one notices until everyone is gone.
Games are missing pieces, my Clue game was destroyed (still mad at this), red clay was ground into the *NEW* carpet in the hallway and Barbie doll room, along with many spilled pops and left to their own devices ... Jason and Michael made the wall full of hundreds of tiny holes b/c I didn't supervise them when they were playing darts. My god, I told them to becareful since it was just on the wall ... they were 10 or so, that was a huge mistake.
We figured out a system to combat the toy breakage. Anything in the patio was free range. Barbie doll room was only if I was there and anything of value in my room was put away before the family gathering.
And to put the destruction of my family into perspective for you, I'll map out the disrespect ... My cousin Sara and I were playing with my barbies ... okay so far, so good. She has my new ken doll with the brown hair (rare in those days) and she breaks the head off. It's kind of scary/impressive the detail I remember this in. My eyes got wide, I was shocked....that was my newest doll! She shrugs her shoulders, and shoves the head back on ... (and if you played with barbies at all, you'll know that the shove method rarely fixes it for a long period of time).
She didn't blink an eye, say she was sorry or show any remorse or concern for destroying my toy. This should have been a lesson to me. After all, they say we live as we once played. Nonetheless, tangent adverted ....
Somehow the rules stopped being in effect ... I think it was when I moved to Green Bay. Suddenly anyone could play with my Barbies.
Okay, this sounds silly, trival and something a 22-year-old shouldn't be concerned with ... but I had a substancial Barbie collection... full kitcehen set, grocery store, food, entertainment center, bathtub, nursery and master bedroom. Not to mention the three story house with real carpet, vinal floor and wallpaper. This was something I was going to cherish and give to my children. This was my childhood.
Now little kids are playing with my barbies ... four year olds ... losing things, wrecking things, destroying their beautiful hair ...
Any little kids .. who's not even related just wanders back to the room and starts playing .. without asking! GODDAMMIT STAY OUT OF MY BARBIE DOLL ROOM!
After Jan Carl's little terror wrecked some stuff, mom put away most of clothes, dolls and all the little things. Good.
But really .. it's hard to be the bitch who says you can't play in there ... so I guess I just need to keep putting things away (brief break to put away the two best dolls and more little items).
Now, my nieces are respectful. I love Erika (Happy Birthday, btw), sighing when she walks in and sees a mess. Before she does anything else, she straightens everything out, arranges the furniture nicely, and puts away the little things. Courtney is like that too. They can play. They are welcome to play. Because they aren't going to break anything! They realize .. somehow .. that what they are playing with is special. Joannie's Ashley is the same.
So I sit here, looking at the three barely useable slinky segments. And where was the slinky? Shoved on the top of the house, by one little devil, hoping no one would notice the kinks in the coil that makes the toy un-slinkable.
Friday, April 14, 2006
Starry Night at Boy Meets World
I was feeling nostaglic this afternoon ... or I don't know, inspired.
So I pop in, after some debate, an episode of Boy Meets World. Immediately I remember walking through the Phoenix Club, going to the 4E office and hearing the familiar tones from the tv... and seeing the college guys going crazy and transfixed over this show.
That just makes me laugh. So much.
So this wasn't just any episode. It took my breath away. And I found today that it still does.
It's the episode where Angela and Topanga go to the art musuem to check out the Van Gogh exhibit. (holy crap!)
The previous episode(s) Corey chatted up this girl and they kissed. Needless to say it looked pretty dim for the two love birds.
And then in one shimmering moment in front of Van Gogh's irises there he was. Topanga had ended his baseball career all with one fast ball to the butt.
Ah, but he had found art ... and there he was basking in the glory of brilliance ... Starry Night. (Now kiddos, I know what you're thinking, but I had already had my Van Gogh fan card validated before this night)
Ricky Ferris, played by Jonathan Jackson (aka: General Hospital's Lucky) absolutely took my breath away. I would like to think that it wasn't Jackson that puts butterflies in my stomach but the guy he respresents.
They talked about art and culture and they met in a flippin' museum for godsakes! He took her out to this amazingly quaint French restaurant and then drew her a bouquet of gorgeous flowers.
Just writing about it makes my heart flutter. This guy ... though fictious in this form ... is the guy I want ... he's who I'm searching for. And I'm not settling for Joe on the Street, who doesn't know Starry Night from speckly easter eggs. He needs to make butterflies flutter up and by and around just as Ricky Ferris did.
And until that day ... well I don't know .... I do look forward to that day and every day after it. And though I'm not less of a person until that day he comes ... I am itching to see "Starry Night" in person a little bit more.
I'm also itching to watch Boy Meets World again .... oh how I wished she would choose Ricky!
Topanga: Just tell me what you see in the painting, Cory.
Cory: [peers at Starry Night] I see an attack.
Topanga: An attack?
Cory: An attack from another world.
Topanga: An attack from another world. All right, let's look again. What about the relationship between God and man?
Cory: Oh, okay. I was about to get there. See, God, unhappy with how some particular humans treat other particular humans who love them, has decided it's the end of the world. And I think he's right.
Topanga: God is protecting the people in this little town! They live their lives and they come out of their houses, and they see this sky and they know God's protection and love. And that everything will be all right.
Cory: Listen, how do you expect me to see good in anything when I feel so bad in here?
So I pop in, after some debate, an episode of Boy Meets World. Immediately I remember walking through the Phoenix Club, going to the 4E office and hearing the familiar tones from the tv... and seeing the college guys going crazy and transfixed over this show.
That just makes me laugh. So much.
So this wasn't just any episode. It took my breath away. And I found today that it still does.
It's the episode where Angela and Topanga go to the art musuem to check out the Van Gogh exhibit. (holy crap!)
The previous episode(s) Corey chatted up this girl and they kissed. Needless to say it looked pretty dim for the two love birds.
And then in one shimmering moment in front of Van Gogh's irises there he was. Topanga had ended his baseball career all with one fast ball to the butt.
Ah, but he had found art ... and there he was basking in the glory of brilliance ... Starry Night. (Now kiddos, I know what you're thinking, but I had already had my Van Gogh fan card validated before this night)
Ricky Ferris, played by Jonathan Jackson (aka: General Hospital's Lucky) absolutely took my breath away. I would like to think that it wasn't Jackson that puts butterflies in my stomach but the guy he respresents.
They talked about art and culture and they met in a flippin' museum for godsakes! He took her out to this amazingly quaint French restaurant and then drew her a bouquet of gorgeous flowers.
Just writing about it makes my heart flutter. This guy ... though fictious in this form ... is the guy I want ... he's who I'm searching for. And I'm not settling for Joe on the Street, who doesn't know Starry Night from speckly easter eggs. He needs to make butterflies flutter up and by and around just as Ricky Ferris did.
And until that day ... well I don't know .... I do look forward to that day and every day after it. And though I'm not less of a person until that day he comes ... I am itching to see "Starry Night" in person a little bit more.
I'm also itching to watch Boy Meets World again .... oh how I wished she would choose Ricky!
Topanga: Just tell me what you see in the painting, Cory.
Cory: [peers at Starry Night] I see an attack.
Topanga: An attack?
Cory: An attack from another world.
Topanga: An attack from another world. All right, let's look again. What about the relationship between God and man?
Cory: Oh, okay. I was about to get there. See, God, unhappy with how some particular humans treat other particular humans who love them, has decided it's the end of the world. And I think he's right.
Topanga: God is protecting the people in this little town! They live their lives and they come out of their houses, and they see this sky and they know God's protection and love. And that everything will be all right.
Cory: Listen, how do you expect me to see good in anything when I feel so bad in here?
Friday, April 7, 2006
Smile and shrug it off
I realized this week that I was letting myself get wound too tight. If something went wrong, it would wreck my whole day. I would let the littlest things eat at me, so that I was generally cranky and it ruined my mood before it even hit noon.
Even after time I wouldn't let myself get over it.
So now I've taken a different approach. I fume. I get it out. And I move on. And when I feel myself getting mad about something that happened ... I smile and shrug it off.
Even after time I wouldn't let myself get over it.
So now I've taken a different approach. I fume. I get it out. And I move on. And when I feel myself getting mad about something that happened ... I smile and shrug it off.
Friday, March 31, 2006
My office
So today from basically 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. I was filling out a funding application packet for a program I work with. I was going a little batty around noon/fifteen so I decided to take pictures and show you all my wonderful, beautiful (a little messy right now) office.The messiness shows the complexity of the packet I'm filling out. They're not the best pictures in the world b/c my office is vaguely L shaped and awkward to photograph.
We begin the grand tour with my French message board I made. It displays the materials we've made the current year. Also in this shot is my collage frame with pictures from our San Francisco trip.
Next is the long part of my desk, along my wall of windows, yes five windows, from mid-wall to the ceiling. My view is a field and the highway, but hey, I get natural light so there's no complaining. Here you'll see a box of payroll stuffers I need to deliver, my campaign folders (yes, plural) my coffee pot (essential) and the Target Puppy! I worked hard for him, he deserves a place of honor.
So now we have a look at the rest of my desk. I have my back to the door, which isn't a good fung shui, but not much i can do about it. I have three bulletin boards in my office, a scanner, and plenty of space to spread out and work.
I also have a lot of drawer space for my files. On my right hand side I have the year-round work files and the in-depth campaign planning files. On my left I have inactive files and samples of other work. My bottom drawer I would like to have my picture archive, but the pics need to be organized ... anyone want to be my Intern to do it?
Here's a close up look at my computer and work area. Notice the ducky (from Jenny) and note holder (from Viki). Also my post-it box (from Dawn), starfish (from Michelle) and various inspirational things in my line of vision.
It's an awesome desk, but the tower is under the monitor in a weird compartment thing, and since it's in a corner, the only way to get at the tower is to craw under and pull yourself behind the desk. Unfortunately, my computer is touch, so I'm always losing my mouse or keyboard for no reason. Not to mention it doesn't always pick up my camera when I plug it in. It gets me very dirty and furstrated.
Next is a look at the top of my desk ... which I need to dust sometime. The graduation frame Kerry gave me with our pics from UWGB in. Pictures of my two oldest nieces, a glass with candy in it and my coffee. Above this is the second French memo board I made. This has pictures of my friends and family. It's hard to get at this. But I really should put a couple more pictures in it.
You can see my binders, directories and portfolios. I have a ton of binders that I use frequently. But those three are used almost daily.
The last wall of my office (not pictured) has my printer, a box of stuff I need to go through, a bookcase of binders, cameras and files with newspaper clippings and materials. I have my UWGB banner and the awads I received for journalism and/or leadership from high school throughout college.
So that's my little home. Much more beautiful and wonderful then the hole in the wall I had when I started.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Big Names and Swinging Doors
The trend of the 470 free agent offseason is Big Names trading jerseys. Put away your green No. 8 jersey. Shed a tear and shake your head. Buy your half off Eagles TO jersey for your sarcastic history kicks ... think twice before you invest in his Dallas' blues. Bucs fans rejoin! For you can knock off the dust bunnies and don your best Alstott jersey once again.
Arizona Cardinals sign
Colts RB-Edgerrin James
Baltimore Ravens sign
Denver's RB-Mike Anderson
Resign RB-Jamal Lewis
Carolina Panthers sign
Dallas WR-Keyshawn Johnson (apparently the Big D isn't big enough for the two biggest overinflated egos in the NFL)
Chicago Bears sign
Bucs QB-Brian Griese
Cleveland Browns sign
Seattle's WR-Joe Jurvicus to a four year $10 million deal
Dallas Cowboys
WR-Terrell Owens
Colts' K-Mike Vanderjagt
Detroit Lions
Houston WR-Corey Bradford
QB-Jon Kitna
Packers' LB-Paris Lenon
Cards QB-Josh McCown
Falcons OT-Barry Stokes
Green Bay Packers Sign
Seattle S-Marquand Manuel-- five years, $10 million, $2 million signing bonus
Chiefs WR-Marc Boerigter and DT-Ryan Picket
Tampa Bay's K-Billy Cundiff
Resign
LB-Aaron Kampman
FB-William Henderson
OT-Kevin Barry
DE-Kenny Peterson
Miami Dolphins sign
Vikings QB-Dante Culpepper
Minnesota Vikings sign
K-Ryan Longwell
Philly's QB-Mike McMahon
New Orleans Saints sign
Chargers QB-Drew Brees
Vikings RB-Michael Bennett
New York Giants sign
Redskin's QB-Tim Hasselbeck
Miami's CB-Sam Madison
Detriot's CB-RW McQuarters
New York Jets sign
New England's WR-Tim Dwight
trade for Washington's QB-Patrick Ramsey
Oakland Raiders sign
New Orleans' QB-Aaron Brooks
Pats' CB-Tyrone Poole
Philadelphia Eagles sign
Detriot's QB-Jeff Garcia
Pittsburgh Steelers Sign
Browns' WR-Quincy Morgan
Resign Charlie Batch
Pats' WR-David Givens
Washington Redskins
New England TE-Christian Feuria
World Champion Steelers' WR-Antuan Randel El
Arizona Cardinals sign
Colts RB-Edgerrin James
Baltimore Ravens sign
Denver's RB-Mike Anderson
Resign RB-Jamal Lewis
Carolina Panthers sign
Dallas WR-Keyshawn Johnson (apparently the Big D isn't big enough for the two biggest overinflated egos in the NFL)
Chicago Bears sign
Bucs QB-Brian Griese
Cleveland Browns sign
Seattle's WR-Joe Jurvicus to a four year $10 million deal
Dallas Cowboys
WR-Terrell Owens
Colts' K-Mike Vanderjagt
Detroit Lions
Houston WR-Corey Bradford
QB-Jon Kitna
Packers' LB-Paris Lenon
Cards QB-Josh McCown
Falcons OT-Barry Stokes
Green Bay Packers Sign
Seattle S-Marquand Manuel-- five years, $10 million, $2 million signing bonus
Chiefs WR-Marc Boerigter and DT-Ryan Picket
Tampa Bay's K-Billy Cundiff
Resign
LB-Aaron Kampman
FB-William Henderson
OT-Kevin Barry
DE-Kenny Peterson
Miami Dolphins sign
Vikings QB-Dante Culpepper
Minnesota Vikings sign
K-Ryan Longwell
Philly's QB-Mike McMahon
New Orleans Saints sign
Chargers QB-Drew Brees
Vikings RB-Michael Bennett
New York Giants sign
Redskin's QB-Tim Hasselbeck
Miami's CB-Sam Madison
Detriot's CB-RW McQuarters
New York Jets sign
New England's WR-Tim Dwight
trade for Washington's QB-Patrick Ramsey
Oakland Raiders sign
New Orleans' QB-Aaron Brooks
Pats' CB-Tyrone Poole
Philadelphia Eagles sign
Detriot's QB-Jeff Garcia
Pittsburgh Steelers Sign
Browns' WR-Quincy Morgan
Resign Charlie Batch
St. Louis Rams Sign
Minnesota Vikings S-Corey Chavous
Packers' RB-Tony Fisher
Miami QB-Gus Ferotte
Tampa Bay Buccanneers
Resign FB-Mike Alstott
Pats' WR-David Givens
Washington Redskins
New England TE-Christian Feuria
World Champion Steelers' WR-Antuan Randel El
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
This makes me smile and have some hope
Dear Red States
We're ticked off at the way you've treated California, and we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us.
In case you aren't aware, that includes Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.
To sum up briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states.
We get stem cell research and the best beaches.
We get Elliot Spitzer.
You get Ken Lay.
We get the Statue of Liberty.
You get OpryLand.
We get Intel and Microsoft.
You get WorldCom.
We get Harvard.
You get Ole' Miss.
We get 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs.
You get Alabama.
We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.
Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.
Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and antiwar, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home.
We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.
With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country's fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 95 percent of America's quality wines (you can serve French wines at state dinners) 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools, plus Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, CalTech and MIT.
With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health carecosts), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.
We get Hollywood, Broadway and Yosemite, thank you.
Additionally, 38 percent of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the death penalty or gun laws, 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61 percent of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.
By the way, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirtweed they grow in Mexico.
Sincerely,
Author Unknown in New California
We're ticked off at the way you've treated California, and we've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us.
In case you aren't aware, that includes Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.
To sum up briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states.
We get stem cell research and the best beaches.
We get Elliot Spitzer.
You get Ken Lay.
We get the Statue of Liberty.
You get OpryLand.
We get Intel and Microsoft.
You get WorldCom.
We get Harvard.
You get Ole' Miss.
We get 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs.
You get Alabama.
We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.
Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.
Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and antiwar, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home.
We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.
With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country's fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 95 percent of America's quality wines (you can serve French wines at state dinners) 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools, plus Princeton, Harvard, Yale, Stanford, CalTech and MIT.
With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health carecosts), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.
We get Hollywood, Broadway and Yosemite, thank you.
Additionally, 38 percent of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the death penalty or gun laws, 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61 percent of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.
By the way, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirtweed they grow in Mexico.
Sincerely,
Author Unknown in New California
Monday, March 13, 2006
Bleeding Feet, Beads, Sweet Potato fries ...
I am totally bummed out. Last year at this time, it was Spring Break. And Kerry and I were in San Francisco.
We walked up the lovely bleeding feet hill to Buena Vista Park. Then Kerry wandered further into the park while I enjoyed the view from where I was posted, enjoying my bleeding feet.
Then we wandered to Golden Gate park where we saw people playing soccer, riding bikes, buying drugs, having picnics. We checked out this Art area/studio/Japanese tea house in the middle of the park and Kerry rode the inside merry-go-round.
We killed some time by exploring Haight Street, going into stores, coughing our ways out of others. We couldn't decide on anything to buy Jenny from Postively Haight Street. (And now I wish I bought the lavendar eyemask from another one of the stores closer to the 555 Haight Guesthouse). At about noon or so was time for the St. Patrick's Day parade! We sat down on Market Street, across from the Opheum theatre. We had our snacks, water and sunblock on hand ... and watch a three or so hour parade. And ... it was awesome.
Except ... I realized the cute little kids beside us were getting all the attention, toys and candy. So then as one "hot" firefighter passed by with beads, I stuck out my hands ... and he motioned me into the street to get them. Score!
After being beaded, and the parade was over we went to the Museum of Modern Art. It was interesting and sometimes fun, but I didn't enjoy it as much as I did the Asian Art Museum. We were both had a little touch of heat exhaustion, so we didn't stay too long.
We ate at Minnie's BBQ (on the Haight) ... where I had the best Texas Ribeye sandwich and most awesome sweet potato fries.*Sighs*
1.) View from cool gallery thing in the middle of the Park.
2.) Gallery from the ground
3.) Haight-Ashbury
4.) Fire engine from Parade
5.) Clown flashing us
6.) Ghiradelli ... okay, we didn't go there this day ... but I probably gave them over $100 ... we thought a good tagline would be "Heaven on Earth"
*sighs*
Friday, March 3, 2006
What's in a name?
Okay ... I'm going to do some amending on the previous blog, in response to Kevin's comment.
I don't like it when specific people use my name. Weird No. 3 for example. Opens every conversation with "Hey Stacey" it can't be hi, yo, hola, whatcha doing? It's always "Hi Stacey" And when he spells it wrong ... its all I can do not to growl.
My friends tend not to use my name at the drop of the hat--is it that we're so comfortable with each other already? But when they do, it's very special to me. I won't name names (haha) but one friend only says "Good night Stacey" after we've talked from like 7 p.m. to 2 a.m. -- in those hours we bond, laugh and have a good time. Then he ends the convo with that. It makes the conversation and my friendship with him that much more meaningful. It always makes me smile.
Another friend will only use my name when we're arguing. Or he'll use it when I'm really down. Both of these always makes me smile.
This other friend of mine will only use my name when he thanks me ... for helping with homework, listening, etc. And everytime he does it ... it makes me smile.
And a couple of days ago, Kevin said (in away message): Dmx1C: stacey, if you read this, im me or call me immediately, it is a matter of life and death.
And that made me smile ... it was life and death matter after all :-)
Then the next day he said : Dmx1C: hey stacey, i'm gonna go to bed, so have a good day at work. thanks for being a good friend, you always seem to be there when i need you ...
And that made me smile.
But about ten minutes later I got ... "Hey Stacey." And my teeth clenched. Maybe because I don't like this person is the reason it pisses me off so much when he uses my name.
I also don't like when people are trying to get something from me ... "Hi Stacey, what's up?" five seconds later .. by the way, can I ask you a favor? Rar.
So anyway. If you're a friend. Use it. If you're not sure, use Goo ... that's cool too. If you get one word answers from me when you're talking at me ... well you're not smart enough to know I roll my eyes every time you beep at me.
And Kevin ... Change the link back to STACEYS BLOG!!!!!! :-D
I don't like it when specific people use my name. Weird No. 3 for example. Opens every conversation with "Hey Stacey" it can't be hi, yo, hola, whatcha doing? It's always "Hi Stacey" And when he spells it wrong ... its all I can do not to growl.
My friends tend not to use my name at the drop of the hat--is it that we're so comfortable with each other already? But when they do, it's very special to me. I won't name names (haha) but one friend only says "Good night Stacey" after we've talked from like 7 p.m. to 2 a.m. -- in those hours we bond, laugh and have a good time. Then he ends the convo with that. It makes the conversation and my friendship with him that much more meaningful. It always makes me smile.
Another friend will only use my name when we're arguing. Or he'll use it when I'm really down. Both of these always makes me smile.
This other friend of mine will only use my name when he thanks me ... for helping with homework, listening, etc. And everytime he does it ... it makes me smile.
And a couple of days ago, Kevin said (in away message): Dmx1C: stacey, if you read this, im me or call me immediately, it is a matter of life and death.
And that made me smile ... it was life and death matter after all :-)
Then the next day he said : Dmx1C: hey stacey, i'm gonna go to bed, so have a good day at work. thanks for being a good friend, you always seem to be there when i need you ...
And that made me smile.
But about ten minutes later I got ... "Hey Stacey." And my teeth clenched. Maybe because I don't like this person is the reason it pisses me off so much when he uses my name.
I also don't like when people are trying to get something from me ... "Hi Stacey, what's up?" five seconds later .. by the way, can I ask you a favor? Rar.
So anyway. If you're a friend. Use it. If you're not sure, use Goo ... that's cool too. If you get one word answers from me when you're talking at me ... well you're not smart enough to know I roll my eyes every time you beep at me.
And Kevin ... Change the link back to STACEYS BLOG!!!!!! :-D
Wednesday, March 1, 2006
Discombobulated Moments
The different brands of weird in this world perplex me, scare me and make in shake my head in one discombobulated moment.
Take weird No. 1:
40+ male who dresses like a 13-year-old and acts like your number one source for information. He is your expert at anything you might want to know.
And by golly aren't you lucky to be in his presence? Hopefully you have time though, he talks INCREDIBLY SLOW. So slow that instead of wanting to kill him to make it end, you would rather take your own life. He gets the simplest things wrong--even after you correct him a million times. He stares at you when you talk and looks like he's going through a dictionary looking for the right thing to say when he's talking.
Weird No. 2
This 40+ male is a cancer survivor (awe, warm gooey feelings), but he also regularly uses a tanning bed. He has a decent job, probably was once pretty good at it. He has ken-doll hair (read: it never moves, and is styled like Mr. Barbie's hair). He's monotone and expression doesn't change. He's creepiness factor is how needy he is. He finds nice women who won't push him away or tell him off, and latches on as a friend. He's the type of friend who asks why you didn't call, or why when you called you only talked five minutes instead of ten. You have to sit by him when you're in a group setting and god forbid you even talk to anyone else -- or heaven forbid, another man! He's possessive of you and makes you feel guilty if you don't give him 110 percent of your attention. When he doesn't get his way--he pouts--or worse, he uses the power he has in his job and lords it over you ... threatening to do something until you give in.
You've never seen his wife or kids. You have his work phone, cell phone, home phone, cabin phone. He's emailed you at all times of day and night -- so much in fact you wonder how he gets any work done at all. He takes interest in anything you are interested. He sends you cards, flowers, brings you lunch .. and then is offended when you ask him to stop because people might start talking.
Weird No. 3
This one isn't so much weird as annoying. This one is a male, not as old but just as needy. He always wants to talk, but it's never a conversation. It's him saying he doesn't like his life or he's bored or he misses his precious girlfriend who left him. Not once does he ask about you or pick up when you're not feeling happy. He makes irrelevant statements and talks "up" trying to sound smart. The problem is he's not smart enough to know you don't care or to pick up that you're kidding or are bored.
Since I'm randoming ranting ... I'll continue with recent pet peeves.
Don't constantly use my name in conversation. Especially online ... you don't need to say "Hi Stacey" every time we start talking. It's my dialog box, I know you're talking to me. "Real" conversations are okay to use names ... just not at every sentence--it should be a natural flow.
For some reason when online, names are more sacred ... you can open up the convo w/ a screen name: if it's just something you do or if you haven't talked to a person in forever--but not their name.
It always gets my attention when someone uses my name online ... and if they're just doing it ... it kinda ticks me off.
Take weird No. 1:
40+ male who dresses like a 13-year-old and acts like your number one source for information. He is your expert at anything you might want to know.
And by golly aren't you lucky to be in his presence? Hopefully you have time though, he talks INCREDIBLY SLOW. So slow that instead of wanting to kill him to make it end, you would rather take your own life. He gets the simplest things wrong--even after you correct him a million times. He stares at you when you talk and looks like he's going through a dictionary looking for the right thing to say when he's talking.
Oh yeah. He returned to college at 40 + but couldn't finish his second year. He's in the same job that he was in 10 years ago -- and thinks he's king because of it.
Weird No. 2
This 40+ male is a cancer survivor (awe, warm gooey feelings), but he also regularly uses a tanning bed. He has a decent job, probably was once pretty good at it. He has ken-doll hair (read: it never moves, and is styled like Mr. Barbie's hair). He's monotone and expression doesn't change. He's creepiness factor is how needy he is. He finds nice women who won't push him away or tell him off, and latches on as a friend. He's the type of friend who asks why you didn't call, or why when you called you only talked five minutes instead of ten. You have to sit by him when you're in a group setting and god forbid you even talk to anyone else -- or heaven forbid, another man! He's possessive of you and makes you feel guilty if you don't give him 110 percent of your attention. When he doesn't get his way--he pouts--or worse, he uses the power he has in his job and lords it over you ... threatening to do something until you give in.
You've never seen his wife or kids. You have his work phone, cell phone, home phone, cabin phone. He's emailed you at all times of day and night -- so much in fact you wonder how he gets any work done at all. He takes interest in anything you are interested. He sends you cards, flowers, brings you lunch .. and then is offended when you ask him to stop because people might start talking.
Weird No. 3
This one isn't so much weird as annoying. This one is a male, not as old but just as needy. He always wants to talk, but it's never a conversation. It's him saying he doesn't like his life or he's bored or he misses his precious girlfriend who left him. Not once does he ask about you or pick up when you're not feeling happy. He makes irrelevant statements and talks "up" trying to sound smart. The problem is he's not smart enough to know you don't care or to pick up that you're kidding or are bored.
Since I'm randoming ranting ... I'll continue with recent pet peeves.
Don't constantly use my name in conversation. Especially online ... you don't need to say "Hi Stacey" every time we start talking. It's my dialog box, I know you're talking to me. "Real" conversations are okay to use names ... just not at every sentence--it should be a natural flow.
For some reason when online, names are more sacred ... you can open up the convo w/ a screen name: if it's just something you do or if you haven't talked to a person in forever--but not their name.
It always gets my attention when someone uses my name online ... and if they're just doing it ... it kinda ticks me off.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Tell me everything you want me to be
I'm dying to know, but terrfied to ask.
Because at least if I'm not sure there's always that chance.
All the songs I'm digging right now make me cry ... and I don't think it's in a good way.
I saw your face in a crowded place ... and I don't know what to do, cuz I'll never be with you.
But it's time to face the truth ... I'll never be with you.
You were holding me like someone broken, and I couldn't tell you but I'm telling you now.
Just let me hold you while we're falling apart. Just let me hold and we'll both fall down.
Fall on me ... tell me everything you want me to be.
Call on me ... I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me.
You may need me there to carry all of your weight. But you're no burden
You always find a way to keep me right here waiting.
And you're just so independant. You just refuse to bend, so I keep bending until I break.
Because at least if I'm not sure there's always that chance.
All the songs I'm digging right now make me cry ... and I don't think it's in a good way.
I saw your face in a crowded place ... and I don't know what to do, cuz I'll never be with you.
But it's time to face the truth ... I'll never be with you.
You were holding me like someone broken, and I couldn't tell you but I'm telling you now.
Just let me hold you while we're falling apart. Just let me hold and we'll both fall down.
Fall on me ... tell me everything you want me to be.
Call on me ... I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me.
You may need me there to carry all of your weight. But you're no burden
You always find a way to keep me right here waiting.
And you're just so independant. You just refuse to bend, so I keep bending until I break.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Sometimes I worry .......
About leaving candles burning while I leave the room
That my computer will start buzzing before I'm done doing whatever I'm doing
Smacking my computer will break itSince my niece Hailey is so quiet around me she doesn't like me, or that she thinks I favor Erika over her (which I don't!)
My loved ones got into a huge and terrible car accident if they're late
I'm not doing a good job at work
People think since I'm not bubbly that I'm being snobby to them
My Leadership group thinks I'm being too forceful/bitchy/power hungry when I took the lead role in our project
I'm too open with people
That I'm lazy/waste too much time
My beliefs may be fundamentally wrong
My family doesn't see the real me
I gossip too much
The people I trust will turn and take all the information they gleaned from me by pretending to be my friend/confidant and use it against me
My wand will blow up if I use it more than once a day (and it did)
I'm not over it
My social skills will never improve
I don't do enough around the house
Drinking coffee/wine/tea will never allow my teeth to be sparkling white
My short hair cut makes me less feminine
Wednesday, February 8, 2006
Thursday, February 2, 2006
Bowl that's super and not so super colors
This weekend is the Super Bowl... which is always exciting, if only for the commercials. But this year, I'm also pysched for the game. I don't have anything invested in either team, but I have been a fan of Big Ben Roethlisberger since his debut last year. Of course, I support Matt Hasslebeck, but would rather see Holmgren fail. Petty? Maybe. Do I care? Not a chance.
On a totally separate rant: why the hell do some teams have three + jersey colors? What was ever wrong with home and away?
Hey folks, you can get your Terrell Owens Eagles jersey for 49.99 rather than the 74 bucks it was running at.
On a totally separate rant: why the hell do some teams have three + jersey colors? What was ever wrong with home and away?
- Falcons: Black, white, red.
- Seahawks: Blue, white, blackish.
- Eagles: Green, white, Greenish-black.
- Bengals: Black, white, orange
- Chargers: Navy blue, white, power blue (who would wear this unless it was a throwback day? Yuck!)
- Bears: Blue, White, Orange
- Ravens: Purple, White, Black
- Giants: Blue, white, Red
- Cardinals: Red, white, White w/red shoulders
Hey folks, you can get your Terrell Owens Eagles jersey for 49.99 rather than the 74 bucks it was running at.
Friday, January 6, 2006
Calendar Graveyard
Ushering in a new year means many things: watching a giant glass ball drop on people counting backwards in Times Square, writing the wrong date on checks and such for two weeks and wiping the slate clean to embrace new beginnings.
These are all fine traditions, all mystical in their own special way, but my favorite part of ridding myself of December is getting a new calendar. Just think of the all things you get and discard within a year. You go through clothes, office supplies, siginificant others, but the calendar will, without fail, stay with you from January to December.
It's so hard to find good calendars, and that's bizarre because there are so many out there. I can never quickly decide which calendar I am going to share my year with. That's a huge commitment to make--we're talking 365 days of your life--if you are not going to look upon this piece fondly.
Even with the care I take to find the perfect calendar to guide me through the eyar, our journey rarely ends in Calendar Utopia. When December comes to a close and you're laying out your resolutions, instead of sending your calendar to meet its make like Christmas's crumpled wrapping paper--take the calendar from its perch and find a proper new home for it.
Just think, Calendar Utopia, keeping the grid of dates from 2005 or even 2002. It nolonger serves any practical purpose, but to discard it would be a great injustice. I have only reached this state of being, with the Green and Gold Hardbody calendar. Ahhhhh....yes, that was a keeper.
The calendar is a gift that keeps giving. Each month brings a new visual masterpiece to feast upon. My greatest disappointment is when I turn to May 1 and there is a less than satisfactory habitat for my birthday.
These are all fine traditions, all mystical in their own special way, but my favorite part of ridding myself of December is getting a new calendar. Just think of the all things you get and discard within a year. You go through clothes, office supplies, siginificant others, but the calendar will, without fail, stay with you from January to December.
It's so hard to find good calendars, and that's bizarre because there are so many out there. I can never quickly decide which calendar I am going to share my year with. That's a huge commitment to make--we're talking 365 days of your life--if you are not going to look upon this piece fondly.
Even with the care I take to find the perfect calendar to guide me through the eyar, our journey rarely ends in Calendar Utopia. When December comes to a close and you're laying out your resolutions, instead of sending your calendar to meet its make like Christmas's crumpled wrapping paper--take the calendar from its perch and find a proper new home for it.
Just think, Calendar Utopia, keeping the grid of dates from 2005 or even 2002. It nolonger serves any practical purpose, but to discard it would be a great injustice. I have only reached this state of being, with the Green and Gold Hardbody calendar. Ahhhhh....yes, that was a keeper.
The calendar is a gift that keeps giving. Each month brings a new visual masterpiece to feast upon. My greatest disappointment is when I turn to May 1 and there is a less than satisfactory habitat for my birthday.
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