Last night I had a splendid time with my most adorable friend. I don't get to see her as often as I'd like (though that seems to be changing, since her job is now closer to mine, and we can meet in the middle), but we are in such regular contact that when we are together it's like we never skipped a beat.
She is unlike anybody I have ever met . . . and she is in love! I have never seen her so happy in the, gosh, 4+ years I have been blessed to know her. But as blissful and excited as she is, I think I am even MORE thrilled and jubilant than she -- not because she found someone . . . but because some guy was lucky enough to capture her heart.
That's right, HE is truly one lucky man, to have the love of such a special person. I can't wait to meet him this weekend, too.
She is my treasure, a light in my life that never dims, no matter what I am going through.
And I love her to the moon and back again.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
"Car Wars . . . "
[Cue mental image of that old "Saturday Night Live" sketch of Bill Murray as lounge singer, singing "Star Wars, nothing more than Star Wars . . . "]
Continuing on with my car saga, I called the dealership on Monday morning, as my girl was letting me know that she could only give me a few more miles of oomph before I had to deal with what I have come to refer to as "The Whole Wingnut Issue." Sigh.
Luckily, Chuck the Mechanic understood my description of the problem -- so I either I explained it really well or Chuck is a mind reader. Probably both. So Chuck tells me to bring 'er on in at the end of the day.
My car limped, and I mean limped, to the dealership. Fortunately, a kind soul took pity on me, picking me up at the dealership and safely depositing me at home. I did offer a small bribe, though, so maybe he was incentivized, lol?!
Eureka! This afternoon, while I was busy in a meeting that, while much was accomplished, just . . . wouldn't . . . end . . . the dealership actually called my cell phone FIVE TIMES to tell me that my girl had been fixed, and was ready for pickup! And the price was right, too, hee-hee!!! (Cheaper than a new VS bra, for those of you keeping tally!)
So I was reunited with my girl this afternoon. She purred. And I breathed a huge, happy, and contented sigh of relief!
Continuing on with my car saga, I called the dealership on Monday morning, as my girl was letting me know that she could only give me a few more miles of oomph before I had to deal with what I have come to refer to as "The Whole Wingnut Issue." Sigh.
Luckily, Chuck the Mechanic understood my description of the problem -- so I either I explained it really well or Chuck is a mind reader. Probably both. So Chuck tells me to bring 'er on in at the end of the day.
My car limped, and I mean limped, to the dealership. Fortunately, a kind soul took pity on me, picking me up at the dealership and safely depositing me at home. I did offer a small bribe, though, so maybe he was incentivized, lol?!
Eureka! This afternoon, while I was busy in a meeting that, while much was accomplished, just . . . wouldn't . . . end . . . the dealership actually called my cell phone FIVE TIMES to tell me that my girl had been fixed, and was ready for pickup! And the price was right, too, hee-hee!!! (Cheaper than a new VS bra, for those of you keeping tally!)
So I was reunited with my girl this afternoon. She purred. And I breathed a huge, happy, and contented sigh of relief!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Does Anyone Own a Mirror Anymore?
I am not trying to be a bitch here, I swear. It's just that I can't ignore this any further, and it's increasingly driving me nuts whenever I venture to the mall, Target, Wal-Mart, etc.
WHY are more and more women insisting on wearing clothes that are AT LEAST two sizes too small for them? I am so sick of seeing rolls of fat poking out from under some chick's too tight shirt! And let's not forget the gal who, because she has big boobs, thinks that this entitles her to squeeze into a scoop-neck top that not only gives us quite a view, but also forces us to confront her "back fat" as well! (I admit, back fat is one of my biggest visual pet peeves -- if you have back fat, that's fine -- but must we all have to view it in public?!).
Today, I spotted a nice-enough looking (though overly tanned) twentysomething girl at the checkout line with her boyfriend. She had on a top that was way too tight across her belly, which only made it look all that much worse (hint: try a few more sit-ups and a few less beers, sweetie!) This shirt was paired with a REALLY short jean skirt that barely skimmed her butt! I mean, c'mon?! It'd be one thing if she was a hot chick with a smokin' bod to match, but she was NOT all that! Her thighs were already heavy, and the skirt just made it look soooo much worse!
Now, so there is no misunderstanding, I am NOT even touching the growing obesity problem in America (I'll save that for another post). I am merely asking the women of America to take a good, honest look in the mirror before they wear something out in public! If you want to carry around a few pounds, eat to your heart's content, not exercise, so be it. But for gawd's sake, please STOP wearing clothes your body is clearly not made for!
WHY are more and more women insisting on wearing clothes that are AT LEAST two sizes too small for them? I am so sick of seeing rolls of fat poking out from under some chick's too tight shirt! And let's not forget the gal who, because she has big boobs, thinks that this entitles her to squeeze into a scoop-neck top that not only gives us quite a view, but also forces us to confront her "back fat" as well! (I admit, back fat is one of my biggest visual pet peeves -- if you have back fat, that's fine -- but must we all have to view it in public?!).
Today, I spotted a nice-enough looking (though overly tanned) twentysomething girl at the checkout line with her boyfriend. She had on a top that was way too tight across her belly, which only made it look all that much worse (hint: try a few more sit-ups and a few less beers, sweetie!) This shirt was paired with a REALLY short jean skirt that barely skimmed her butt! I mean, c'mon?! It'd be one thing if she was a hot chick with a smokin' bod to match, but she was NOT all that! Her thighs were already heavy, and the skirt just made it look soooo much worse!
Now, so there is no misunderstanding, I am NOT even touching the growing obesity problem in America (I'll save that for another post). I am merely asking the women of America to take a good, honest look in the mirror before they wear something out in public! If you want to carry around a few pounds, eat to your heart's content, not exercise, so be it. But for gawd's sake, please STOP wearing clothes your body is clearly not made for!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Listen Dude, I HAVE to Get Home!
If I didn't have the opportunity to record some of the bizarre things that happen to me, I would begin to think I had imagined all of them. Take Thursday, for example . . .
I was in D.C. to attend a daylong training seminar. Though useful for my job (I suppose), it was long and boring. As I have a hard time sitting still, I was bouncing of the walls by the time we were paroled at 5:15 p.m. I hopped a cab back to my hotel to retrieve my luggage and car. Then I set out for home.
Or so I tried.
About 30 miles outside of D.C. my car just didn't feel right. This didn't make much sense, since I had the oil changed/fluids topped/yadda only 2 days prior. But the car was losing her juice, and finally I had to pull over to the side of the road. And pray. And quietly stew. And remind myself that this has happened before (last year, also in D.C. on a biz trip), and I survived that time, too. Only the previous time it wasn't dark out, or raining, and I DESPERATELY NEEDED TO GET HOME!!!
After a few minutes on the side of road, I managed to restart the car, and together we limped off an exit ramp and into a Sheetz station. It was already 7:10 p.m., and I was supposed to be fasting in advance of bloodwork scheduled for 7:00 a.m. the following day. But I hadn't eaten dinner yet. So after scarfing down something from Sheetz (I think better when I have food in my stomach), I spotted some "10 minute lube" place about a half-mile up the road.
By this time it's 7:30, and the place closed at 7:00 p.m. But alas, the lights were still on! I think that the mixture of desperation and sheer determination in my voice convinced the two guys still there at the shop to look under the hood. Of course, I am willing to also give some credit to the following: great hair, a tight sweater, and my considerable charm. Who knows what really convinced them? I didn't care!
After about 10 minutes of poking around, the 23 year old guy excitedly announces that there is a broken wingnut on the cable-thingy that holds the battery in place. He theorized that somebody, along the way, tightened the thing so much that it sorta snapped, and whomever screwed it up tried to gerry rig the thing in place with some pins (they actually looked like carpet staples). This meant that every time my car hit the slightest of bumps, the battery would detach a bit from the cable, which was resulting in the loss of complete power as I drove. [Now I am sure I am completely phucking up this explanation, but trust me, it made sense and was the truth]
So the 23 year old (now my hero) disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned with some sort of bolt/screw that he had ground down to a suitable size that would fake out my battery in the short term. He somehow secured the thing in place (there was no duct tape used, for any of you smart asses who may be wondering!) My hero refused to take any money, or charge me anything. I finally left a $20 bill (I only had $29 in cash on me, and needed $8 for the turnpike toll) for him on the desk near where he was cleaning up, and ran to my now purring vehicle.
I then managed to drive the next 225+ miles home without stopping once. This was amazing, considering my famous world's smallest bladder.
Of course, the trip home had two of its own bizarre details that should be shared, in order to properly frame the evening . . . at one point I had switched lanes, going from the fast to slow lane, Not 100 feet later did I spot a mattress in the fast lane. Whew -- close miss, eh?! I thought about how bad the driver who lost the mattress must have felt when that sucker flew off their ride!
And then, a few miles later and still in the slow lane, I suddenly had to swerve onto the shoulder, as there was ANOTHER mattress on the road, rolled up like a friggin' burrito! And just as quickly as I swerved onto the shoulder, I had to swerve back onto the road, so as to not become impaled on a road sign. In my rearview mirror I watched the tractor-trailer behind me pull a similar dance.
I rolled in around midnight, thankfully. Only to be up at 5:00 a.m. the following morning to haul ass out to Oakland for my labwork and procedure. My life . . . oi vey.
I was in D.C. to attend a daylong training seminar. Though useful for my job (I suppose), it was long and boring. As I have a hard time sitting still, I was bouncing of the walls by the time we were paroled at 5:15 p.m. I hopped a cab back to my hotel to retrieve my luggage and car. Then I set out for home.
Or so I tried.
About 30 miles outside of D.C. my car just didn't feel right. This didn't make much sense, since I had the oil changed/fluids topped/yadda only 2 days prior. But the car was losing her juice, and finally I had to pull over to the side of the road. And pray. And quietly stew. And remind myself that this has happened before (last year, also in D.C. on a biz trip), and I survived that time, too. Only the previous time it wasn't dark out, or raining, and I DESPERATELY NEEDED TO GET HOME!!!
After a few minutes on the side of road, I managed to restart the car, and together we limped off an exit ramp and into a Sheetz station. It was already 7:10 p.m., and I was supposed to be fasting in advance of bloodwork scheduled for 7:00 a.m. the following day. But I hadn't eaten dinner yet. So after scarfing down something from Sheetz (I think better when I have food in my stomach), I spotted some "10 minute lube" place about a half-mile up the road.
By this time it's 7:30, and the place closed at 7:00 p.m. But alas, the lights were still on! I think that the mixture of desperation and sheer determination in my voice convinced the two guys still there at the shop to look under the hood. Of course, I am willing to also give some credit to the following: great hair, a tight sweater, and my considerable charm. Who knows what really convinced them? I didn't care!
After about 10 minutes of poking around, the 23 year old guy excitedly announces that there is a broken wingnut on the cable-thingy that holds the battery in place. He theorized that somebody, along the way, tightened the thing so much that it sorta snapped, and whomever screwed it up tried to gerry rig the thing in place with some pins (they actually looked like carpet staples). This meant that every time my car hit the slightest of bumps, the battery would detach a bit from the cable, which was resulting in the loss of complete power as I drove. [Now I am sure I am completely phucking up this explanation, but trust me, it made sense and was the truth]
So the 23 year old (now my hero) disappeared for a few minutes, and then returned with some sort of bolt/screw that he had ground down to a suitable size that would fake out my battery in the short term. He somehow secured the thing in place (there was no duct tape used, for any of you smart asses who may be wondering!) My hero refused to take any money, or charge me anything. I finally left a $20 bill (I only had $29 in cash on me, and needed $8 for the turnpike toll) for him on the desk near where he was cleaning up, and ran to my now purring vehicle.
I then managed to drive the next 225+ miles home without stopping once. This was amazing, considering my famous world's smallest bladder.
Of course, the trip home had two of its own bizarre details that should be shared, in order to properly frame the evening . . . at one point I had switched lanes, going from the fast to slow lane, Not 100 feet later did I spot a mattress in the fast lane. Whew -- close miss, eh?! I thought about how bad the driver who lost the mattress must have felt when that sucker flew off their ride!
And then, a few miles later and still in the slow lane, I suddenly had to swerve onto the shoulder, as there was ANOTHER mattress on the road, rolled up like a friggin' burrito! And just as quickly as I swerved onto the shoulder, I had to swerve back onto the road, so as to not become impaled on a road sign. In my rearview mirror I watched the tractor-trailer behind me pull a similar dance.
I rolled in around midnight, thankfully. Only to be up at 5:00 a.m. the following morning to haul ass out to Oakland for my labwork and procedure. My life . . . oi vey.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Am I Insane?
On Thursday, we had house inspection for the place we put an offer in on. I had to work, but Dr. J has off on Thursday mornings, so he was designated as the one to be present with the inspector for the event, which takes a couple of hours.
Because so many of yinz have been asking to see photos of the house we are close to buying, I reminded Dr. J a bunch of times to "TAKE THE CAMERA WITH YOU -- TAKE A BUNCH OF PHOTOS!!!"
Surprisingly, Dr. J did remember to take the camera with him (this in itself is a feat).
Last night, after returning from a "date" with my husband, I asked him "You did take photos of the house, right?" to which he nodded enthusiastically and said "Oh yeah, I took a bunch!"
So this morning, being unable to sleep in (not sleeping well, again), I decide to download the photos onto our computer, and then uplink them to the Kodak Gallery, in the hopes of sharing with those with of you who have been inquiring.
Guess what? He did take a bunch! Yee haw! There's just one problem . . . THERE ISN'T ONE GAWDDAMN PHOTO OF THE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!! Ya know, the thing people want to see MOST?!?!
I am this close to storming into the bedroom and smacking him awake with my best bitchslap and screaming "HOW CAN YOU TAKE 60 PHOTOS OF THE INSIDE OF A HOUSE, AND NEGLECT TO TAKE EVEN ONE OF THE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE?!?!"
ARRRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I insane, or was it IMPLIED that when one is asked to "take photos of the house" it includes the OUTSIDE of the house! JUST ONE DAMN PHOTO!!!!!!!!!! ONE!!!!!!!!
Is it too early to begin drinking? It feels like it's going to be one of those days already.
We have to go back over to the house in a few hours to meet with our Realtor to discuss a few items that came up during the home inspection. Guess who is taking the camera with her, and will obtain a photo of the outside of the house?
Because so many of yinz have been asking to see photos of the house we are close to buying, I reminded Dr. J a bunch of times to "TAKE THE CAMERA WITH YOU -- TAKE A BUNCH OF PHOTOS!!!"
Surprisingly, Dr. J did remember to take the camera with him (this in itself is a feat).
Last night, after returning from a "date" with my husband, I asked him "You did take photos of the house, right?" to which he nodded enthusiastically and said "Oh yeah, I took a bunch!"
So this morning, being unable to sleep in (not sleeping well, again), I decide to download the photos onto our computer, and then uplink them to the Kodak Gallery, in the hopes of sharing with those with of you who have been inquiring.
Guess what? He did take a bunch! Yee haw! There's just one problem . . . THERE ISN'T ONE GAWDDAMN PHOTO OF THE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!! Ya know, the thing people want to see MOST?!?!
I am this close to storming into the bedroom and smacking him awake with my best bitchslap and screaming "HOW CAN YOU TAKE 60 PHOTOS OF THE INSIDE OF A HOUSE, AND NEGLECT TO TAKE EVEN ONE OF THE OUTSIDE OF THE HOUSE?!?!"
ARRRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Am I insane, or was it IMPLIED that when one is asked to "take photos of the house" it includes the OUTSIDE of the house! JUST ONE DAMN PHOTO!!!!!!!!!! ONE!!!!!!!!
Is it too early to begin drinking? It feels like it's going to be one of those days already.
We have to go back over to the house in a few hours to meet with our Realtor to discuss a few items that came up during the home inspection. Guess who is taking the camera with her, and will obtain a photo of the outside of the house?
Friday, March 09, 2007
Mourning the Loss of a Good Wiener
We recently went to a funeral. For a restaurant. Yes, a restaurant. You can read the article below for how the story unravels:
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/06297/732392-46.stm
This past Saturday was the invitation-only party for the "funeral" and "rebirth." And WE were there! I was able to squire an invitation because I was a frequent customer while working downtown, and brought them a good ten or so new customers along the way.
This event was FABULOUS! They even had little programs printed up, with memorial verses and songs inside. One of their friends dressed up as "The Almost Reverend Kevin," everyone came in dark clothes, pretending to cry/wail -- SO MUCH FUN!!!
We received a new t-shirt bearing the new name, "Franktuary," and a CD containing all of the funeral music, hee-hee!
After the funeral, we feasted on their terrific hot dogs, and cupcakes from Dozen Cupcakes (which we have previously visited and LOVE!).
Anyhoo, just a cool Saturday night in Da 'Burgh!
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/06297/732392-46.stm
This past Saturday was the invitation-only party for the "funeral" and "rebirth." And WE were there! I was able to squire an invitation because I was a frequent customer while working downtown, and brought them a good ten or so new customers along the way.
This event was FABULOUS! They even had little programs printed up, with memorial verses and songs inside. One of their friends dressed up as "The Almost Reverend Kevin," everyone came in dark clothes, pretending to cry/wail -- SO MUCH FUN!!!
We received a new t-shirt bearing the new name, "Franktuary," and a CD containing all of the funeral music, hee-hee!
After the funeral, we feasted on their terrific hot dogs, and cupcakes from Dozen Cupcakes (which we have previously visited and LOVE!).
Anyhoo, just a cool Saturday night in Da 'Burgh!
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