...a male & female point of view...We are two former coworkers who share similar ideas on what's absurd...or just plain funny...thought we could offer a unique view on life & stuff...

Tuesday, May 31, 2005



Ever get lost in someone’s details?

It starts with the way they look at you...

That half a smile on their face...

You get lost in the small things they do...

The way they touch you on your shoulders...just to let you know that they are there...

They way their calf muscles get more defined as they peddle a bike...

The way they get excited over the music they love & the fact that they want to share it with you...

The way you feel when you walk slightly ahead...& you know that they are watching you...

The way they have patience for your silliness...

They way you like to work together on anything...

You find yourself getting excited about the things that interest them...

The way they lean down & brush your hair with their lips...

The way they taste (all sweet & rugged) when you kiss them...

The way they kiss you urgently & softly...

Monday, May 30, 2005


Things to Remember.

Memorial- Definition. Something, such as a monument or holiday, intended to celebrate or honor the memory of a person or an event.

Ethel. My Grandmother. My last living grand parent. She died this weekend we don't know if it was Saturday or Sunday. We also hope it was quick and painless, but we don't know that either. She was my Dad's mom. She was about 86, I'm not sure. There was a part of me this weekend that died with her. We weren't very close but she was a part of my life and my son's.

I realized too my son may have some problems that have been inherited from his mother. She has OCD, my son has been doing some things that make me think it's time for me to get him evaluated. All in all it has been a real shitty day.

I feel so empty inside, I have been sitting in the dark with candles lit listening to music with tears rolling down my face. I decided I need to write so I don't wallow in it. I also sat outside on my deck looking up at the stars, hoping to see a shooting one, to make a wish, a selfish wish. That my son will be okay. As I was freezing my ass off I was thinking a shooting star is a piece of rock that could be the size of a pebble, entering the Earth's atmosphere, burning up into nothing. Kinda takes away the magic huh? Still I kept looking. I guess there is a dreamer and a realist inside me struggling. I decided no piece of melting rock is going to help me with my son, or with true love, make me rich or bring loved ones back. Or else I'd be fighting for a spot to look at the sky. Instead I was alone, just me and the stars.

Do you know what it feels like to worry about your child being all alone in this fucked up world? I made the biggest mistake of my life not having more children. It tears me up inside. As a parent all you want to do is protect your child, and I feel like I let him down. Now he may have more problems than I thought. My days of wishing on stars is over, now if I want things to happen I have to work for it and I plan too.
I think along with my grandmother something else died this weekend, the dreamer inside me. I'm tired of wishing and dreaming. Kermit and his rainbow can kiss my ass. Karma doesn't exist, or little kids wouldn't die, or get cancer, families wouldn't die in fires. People like Hitler is an example for all of us on this Memorial day to realize we just can't hope and wish things get better, we actually have to fight for it. You want something... go get it, or someone else will.

Happy Memorial day.

No offense, but I'm not in mood for comments. Just go out hug your children, work hard for them and call up a relative just to say hi. Love a lot.

Friday, May 27, 2005


Just One of Those Days

Do you think it’s working out...Dick & I posting on alternate days?
Dick thought I was harsh in my comments to his post yesterday...
I don’t think I was...but if you’re going to call my gender (or me) crazy...
I’m going to let you know what I think about that...
& I know it was a joke (or was it?), Dick...sheesh.

Here is the post I would have written yesterday...if it had been my turn to post:

Ever have one of those days?

The kind of day where you answer the phone with a stern,
“yeah, what?!” People are slightly shocked...or put off by your new
attitude...but in the current mood you’re in...you don’t give a rat’s ass.

Ever have one of those days?

Thursday, May 26, 2005


All women are gay and crazy

Okay do I have your attention now?!

Before I get tons of hate comments, ahh fuck it, you can send the hate comments, I probably deserve it. I just am baffled by the fact most women ...ok ...all the women I know fluctuate between normal and fucking insane. Why is this? I know you are a bunch of raging hormones, that cycle with the moon, but come on...
Do I do it to you? Is it just me?
Why is it that women can't even get along with other women? My first encounter of this phenomenon was when I was dating a girl in college. Every weekend I would visit her dorm In NY and every weekend was some girl they "weren't talking too". The poor girl was no longer part of the group, until of course the following weekend where she replaced someone new. It was like war, don't make any friends because they might be taken away from you.

I just seem to date or marry the crazies. They start out fine or maybe they have always been nuts and I don't notice because I get hypnotized by their boobies. Either way, what happens? I don't think I've changed. I think the girl that thought it was cute the way I threw my undies on the ceiling fan was only faking it so I would keep her. Then when the ring is on their finger they snap out of the "He's so cute" phase to the "I have my hands full changing this man" phase.

The other part I have trouble comprehending is that women don't seem to have any problem kissing, making out, feeling up other women. Where does that come from? Guys are so fucking different. I couldn't even think of kissing another guy, well, except maybe if I needed a ride or something. I'm not complaining mind you. I happen to think it's very tantalizing, I'm just dumbfounded by the whole thing.

Guys are such simple creatures, real simple. We like to eat, fart, watch sports, scratch our balls, and have sex, sometimes all at once. We get along fine with all other guys, well, except for the homo who is checking out our ass. We can get along with him even if he's into sports at least. Or will make us a sandwich.

ok I'm ready for the crazy comments...


Wednesday, May 25, 2005


And She Was...

And she was drifting through the backyard
And she was taking off her dress
And she was moving very slowly
Rising up above the earth
Moving into the universe
Drifting this way and that
Not touching ground at all
Up above the yard...

Gotta love The Talking Heads...

Ever get a song stuck in your brain? Luckily for me...this time...it's a good one...
I don't even know why it was there, I hadn’t heard this song in a very long
time...but I love it. It played in my head as I rode the elevator to my
floor at work yesterday morning. It's a catchy tune, so I did a little hip
wiggling between floors. I smiled & waved at the secret cameras that
most office buildings probably have hidden all over the place.

...And she was looking at herself
And things were looking like a movie
She had a pleasant elevation
She's moving out in all directions...

That song was still floating around my mind...during a midmorning
production meeting. I didn’t hear what was going on in the meeting...
I heard...

...Joining the world of missing
persons...and she was...
Missing enough to feel alright...and she was...

It really wasn’t an unpleasant way to spend the day.

...She was glad about it... no doubt about it
She isn't sure where she's gone
No time to think about what to tell them
No time to think about what she's done
And she was...

Tuesday, May 24, 2005


How to talk to your ex.

Ok so Chick and I are going to try something different. To give her a break and to get my ass back into things we are going to alternate days, of course she'll have the majority (don't panic). We'll see how it works, if there are too many complaints I'll just force Chick to write everyday again. So if you are as clever as I am you may have already figured out today is my day.
Ok before I really start, my new obsession in music is Rachel Yamagata. OMG what a friggen voice. I love to listen to new music so if anyone has any suggestions I'd love to know, thanks.

Ok, first I have to tell about how sweet my ex and I get along. This Sunday MY son had a soccer game, I had all of his uniform except his cleats, his mom had to bring those. I had to drive an hour to get to the field which was a few blocks from her house. She of course shows up 10 minutes late, she has shown up late for everything since I have known her. I was getting so impatient that I told my son "stay here, I'm going to go pick them up". By the time I got to my car she pulls up, this is the fun part. She gets out and the first thing I say is "Give me the fucking cleats",
she looks at me and says "I'll give it to him" I guess at this point she noticed something in my eyes that told her "I will die at this moment if I don't just give him the cleats"
Because I went right for them and I was not going to be denied. She held them out and said "here".
Then this was our conversation for the next 5 minutes (F.Y.I. no one was near us)
me "you are a fucking skank"
"no you're a skank"
"fucking bitch"
"you're a fat pig"
"I'm a fat pig?! lol you're fat AND ugly!"
on and on...
I have to admit it was the first time in a very long time she made me laugh. I handed the cleats to MY son and he asked me "did you guys yell?" I said nice and calmly, "no, everything is fine"
They went on to lose the game. Perfect ending.


Monday, May 23, 2005


Wondering about Sex

My question to you today is...when you were a kid...
how did you first learn about the mechanics of sex?
What I mean by that is...how & when did you first find out that...
as my little sister used to say..."You can't have babies by kissing?!"

My answer is in yesterday's post.

Saturday, May 21, 2005



I’ve never backed down from a blogger tagging challenge yet...so here’s another one...

I’ve been tagged by the loverly Leandra:

1. Total Number of Books I’ve Owned: I’m guessing...about 300...but the library keeps me busy when I’m not borrowing books from friends also.

2. Last Book I Bought: The Dreamer's Dictionary.

3. Last Book I Read: I’m currently reading Catcher in the Rye by Salinger. I started this book years ago... & never finished it...which isn’t like me at all. It seems like a mandatory read. I’m in love with the way he writes in a true voice of a teenage boy:

"If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them."

...How could you not love a book that starts this way?

4. 5 books that mean a lot to me:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee- One of my all time favorites. The only time I think a movie may have come close to being better than the book...& that isn’t easy to do. I love the slow, kind of southern way this story is told through the eyes of eight year old Scout.

Mystic River by Dennis Lehane- I don’t know what it is about a story that starts at the end...then tells you how it all got to that point...that gets to me...but this one does. If you like character development & emotionally descriptive writing...this book is for you.

Summer Sisters by Judy Blume- I’ve loved her books since I started reading. I read her all throughout my childhood. I may have even learned the actual mechanics of how sex works from reading Forever (if you read this book as a kid...you’ll know what I mean). This book explores the ramifications of love & lust on two friends...& rings very true to me.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein- A book from my childhood. I just treated myself to the hardcover edition. This book is silly words with silly line drawings. I’m in love with the lessons here. How could you not love a book with stories about dancing pants & hugs of war?!

My fifth book would have to be a toss up between The Garden Design Book & the Georgia O’Keefe coffee table book I cherish. Both books are full of the most beautiful flowers & touching images. These are the books I’d want to save if my house was on fire.

Friday, May 20, 2005



Beware...a serious fucking post about beauty is about to hit you over the head...
if you chose to read on...& I don't blame you if you don't want to read it...
it's long & maybe not that interesting...I do not know what's gotten into me
...I've just been thinking about it a bit lately.
Why? I don't know... I truly believe beauty comes from within...as
I get to know & really connect with someone...they ALWAYS become beautiful
to me.

(consider it a favor to me)...THEY SAY IT ALL ANYWAY...

Did you know that Dove is running a global ad promo called Campaign for Real Beauty? They claim to be making a worldwide effort "to show a new, wider definition of beauty".

They wanted the study to assess whether it was possible to think about
female beauty in ways that were more authentic, satisfying &

"The overwhelming majority of women (despite the popularity of Extreme
Makeover) do not wish to expose themselves to the surgeon's scalpel.
But neither do they wish to be excluded because they fail to find their
beauty reflected in the images which bombard them, on average, in 2000
advertisements per week. What women in this study tell us is that a
sense of legitimacy & respect is wrapped up with beauty in today's world.
Whether this sentiment dismays or delights us, it poses a serious
challenge... for the idea of beauty to become truly democratic & inclusive,
then beauty itself must be revitalized to reflect women in their beauty
as they really are rather than as portrayed in the current fictions
that dominate our visual culture. With such fictions removed, the many
hours of anguish, spent in self criticism, or in the attempt to reshape
themselves so that they do in some ways resemble the ideal, have a
chance to be freed up & find expression in the many other desires &
ambitions that women hold. "

Yeah...whatever...they make some valid points here...but I believe they
will only stick with it...if it sells products...she said cynically...

"Beauty is how you feel inside & it reflects in your eyes. It is not
something physical."

~Sophia Loren

"But beauty itself is not given to us by anyone; it is a power we have
within us ... a radiance inside us."

~Marianne Williamson

Thursday, May 19, 2005


Miss me?

Sorry for the lack of posting. Just feelin' out of it lately. Thank God for Chick.

I Hate to Eat & Run

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When I was a freshman in college, I had a room mate who used to eat like a guy. What I mean by this is...she’d eat ALLOT...& when I say allot...I mean allot. She would sit down at a table in the cafeteria & get herself not one...but two trays of food. I was in awe. She was a normal size girl...even a bit on the thin side. My question was, where did she put it all? I was immediately jealous of her seemingly astounding metabolism.

What I didn’t know at first, was that she was bulimic. I lived with the girl & didn’t know that she was so sick. She’d eat double dinners, then we’d walk back to our dorm. She was the kind of person who could never seem to calm herself enough to actually sit still for any amount of time. Most nights after dinner, she would fidget for awhile, then announce that she was going for a run. I’d always ask her how she could run after eating anything at all, let alone the huge portions she’d just shoveling into her gullet. She never answered me...she would usually just laugh & go running down the hall on her way out the door.

Things went like this for a couple of weeks. By now it was early November & it was starting to get darker outside earlier in the evening. She was still running (not even jogging...running!) her ass off every night after dinner. I started to worry about her out there running in the near darkness...but she wouldn’t stop. One night I forced her to let me run with her (even though I just knew it was going to kill me...how can anyone run after eating a full meal?...all of that food bouncing around in your gut...ugh). I convinced one of the guys from the first floor to run with us for safety. She thought all of this was unnecessary & I could tell she was beginning to get annoyed.

Well, the three of us ran...or should I say...two of us jogged & she ran like there was something chasing her. She ran ahead & we couldn’t see her. When we caught up, she was off to the side throwing up. It didn’t surprise me...the girl had eaten enough to feed an army. What I didn’t know then, was that she’d stuck her finger down her throat to get rid of all that food.

Want to know the worst part of the whole story? First, I was envious of what I thought was an over active metabolism...but when I found out that wasn’t true...I was jealous of her ability to be able to make herself throw up.

Fucked up?...you bet it was...

Wednesday, May 18, 2005


Hugs & Kisses

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I came home last night to find that my sweet ballerina niece had sent
me a package. I occasionally send her a nothing in the mail...
because I know that 6 year olds loooove getting mail.
I'll send her a drawing or a card...anything...just to let her know
that she's wonderful & loved.

I opened my package & out fell a bunch of Hershey's chocolate hugs & kisses.
Is that ironic...or what?

Did that make me happy...or am I on a chocolate high?

It doesn't really matter...either way : )

Tuesday, May 17, 2005



So...yeah...after hearing my perfect niece cry to me about her fears of
being fat...I started thinking...(I'd be thought free otherwise).

Do you know any woman who does not have issues with her body & how
she views it? I can't think of anyone I know who's perfectly happy with
the way she looks. Are men this way too? I don't mean that women are
vain...but we tend to be slightly fucked up when it comes to seeing
ourselves & being happy with what we see.

Sure, I'd love to be taller, with
longer legs & a smaller butt...some of those things I can change
through determination & sweat...(ok, the only changeable thing I've listed
there is the butt thing...but you get the point).

I remember being in high school & weighing a whopping 100 pounds.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a short, fat girl with an awesomely killer
personality (& bodacious taste in shoes)...really...that's what I saw.
I weigh more than that now...but never ask a woman her weight...really...
don't do it...you might get bitch-slapped if you do (you can't say you haven't been warned).

I feel better about my body now, even at a higher weight.
Do you get wiser as you get older...or do you just get more comfortable with yourself?

Monday, May 16, 2005


Bitch-Slap Her

"Ballerinas can't be fat!"

My six year old niece said that to me with
such hurt & passion that my heart broke a little bit. I'd just asked
her to go get some ice cream with me as a treat. Where, you ask, would a
six year old child hear something like this? Turns out that her dance
teacher throws out gems like this all of the time. Did she have a clue?
Did she care about the harm she was causing in impressionable little

I honestly wanted to bitch slap the woman (what the hell does
this even mean?...I didn't know...so I looked it up...bitch-slap-
verb - To slap someone with an open hand in an attempt to put them
in their place
...Yep, I was right...that's exactly what I wanted to do).

I really believe that...at the tender age of six...children are
still pretty damn near perfect. Why screw with perfection. At that age most
kids still think they can do anything...& they should think this way.
Why take that ability away from a child? Why make a child think that
they are fat?! What is the *&^$@*>)-ing point of that?

Saturday, May 14, 2005


Which Desperate Housewife are you?

Do you lust after the gardener, fantasize about the fella next door or
are you just too busy with the kids?

A quiz for you.

I turned out to be Susan...out of all of them...I'm sort of the most like
her...so I'll agree...to a point...

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Some people are nice deep down, but your niceness sits right on the
surface, apparent to all. You're down-to-earth and approachable, with a
thoughtful side that makes you the moral center of your own little
Wisteria Lane. Like Susan, you notice what's going on with the people around
you and are concerned about their well-being. That said, you're not
some doe-eyed pushover: you're savvy to people who aren't telling the
truth and you've got a scheme or two up your sleeve when you need to be
sneaky (do I have a secret evil plan?).

Probably your biggest fault is that you allow your insecurities to chip
away at your self worth. Everybody's had failed relationships, made bad
judgements and been locked out of their home completely naked (does
almost naked...count?). It's not how hard you fall that's
important; it's how you keep getting back up.

...I ask you...is this any lamer than actually naming Dick's weeeeenie??

Thursday, May 12, 2005


Bubble Wrap

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I just got the sweetest e-mail from a former co worker. Joe G. is an older gentleman Dick & I used to work with. I’d call him that even if he wasn’t ‘older’...’cuz he’s just an old soul, do you know what I mean?

I used to talk his ear off & try to get him to open up to me. He was a challenge. He told me he liked to keep his personal life at home & not talk about it at work. Could I let him be? No...I just couldn’t. He wanted to open up to me, he just didn’t know it yet.

By the time I left that job for greener pastures, he bared his soul to me. He was addicted to talking to this chick everyday...ok, that’s what I’m telling myself...for all I know he could have made up stories about his life...just to get me to stop bothering him...but I doubt it...’cuz he didn’t seem like a bull shitter to me...but you just never know...now do you?

He was good-hearted & listened to my tales of whoa too. How did I repay his kindness? I’d drive him insane every time we got a package. I’d pop every last bubble in the bubblewrap from the package. I’m not kidding when I say it used to drive him nuts...but did I stop?...no.

On my last day there, he gave me a present & a very nice card. In it it said something about how he didn’t open up to many people & that he was going to miss our chats. At that point, I kinda KNEW that he hadn’t been a bull shitter after all...he was really one of those guys that make you cry by being sweet to you...when you least expected it...damn him.

He sent me a link to this in that sweet e-mail I just told you about...I guess he misses the psychopathic chick who used to pop bubbles like a madwoman & drive him bonkers.

He either misses me...or...do you think he’s saying...”I’m glad you’re gone because if I had to sit through one more manic bubble popping session...I’d have had to have killed you”.

...it easily could have gone either way...

Wednesday, May 11, 2005


A-weema-weh A-weema-weh A-weema-weh

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OK, I just played the song, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" one thousand & forty two times...in a row...if that song can't get you out of a funk...what the hell can?

Tuesday, May 10, 2005


What's in a name?

I would like a nickname for my cock. So I don't have to say "my cock" all the time...and I do say it a lot!

Any suggestions?!


Red Headed Woman

By Bruce Springsteen

Well brunettes are fine man
And blondes are fun
But when it comes to getting the dirty job done

I'll take a red headed woman
A red headed woman
It takes a read headed woman
To get a dirty job done

Well listen up stud
Your life's been wasted
Til you've got down on your knees and tasted

A red headed woman
A red headed woman
It takes a read headed woman
To get a dirty job done

Tight skirt, strawberry hair
Tell me what you've got baby, waiting under there
Big green eyes that look like, son
They can see every cheap thing that you ever done

Well I don't care how many girls you've dated, man
But you ain't lived till you've had your tires rotated

By a red headed woman
A red headed woman
It takes a read headed woman
To get a dirty job done

...what else is there to say?

Monday, May 09, 2005


25 Things I learned From Mom

  • 1. Communication is essential to happiness.

  • 2. Kissing a boo-boo can make it all better.

  • 3. Always say, “thank you” & mean it.

  • 4. You can tell a lot about a person by the shoes that they wear.

  • 5. Give blood if you are able.

  • 6. Never pick out busy wallpaper, you’ll hate it in a few years.

  • 7. How to wrap a pretty present.

  • 8. If I’m feeling ill, get up & take a shower, I’ll feel better.

  • 9. To love theater.

  • 10. Class.

  • 11. To never, never let your ass touch the seat in a public bathroom.

  • 12. Marry a man who loves your cooking.

  • 13. To make apple pie, spaghetti sauce, stuffed artichokes, meatballs...The list is too long, thanks for my love of cooking, Mom...this is the one (maybe the only) truly Italian part of me.

  • 14. To love 60’s music.

  • 15. To pluck the bottoms of my eyebrows, never the top.

  • 16. You can never have too many black suits.

  • 17. That my annoying little brother would grow up into someone I love.

  • 18. To love words.

  • 19. When someone falls down, laugh (‘cuz few things are funnier)...then ask if they’re ok.

  • 20. To love holidays (all of them).

  • 21. That shopping is a sport.

  • 22. That wearing your communion dress while skateboarding down the big hill by our house was NOT a very good idea.

  • 23.The power of sarcasm.

  • 24. The art of being subtle.

  • 25. That there are kind people out there who care about your happiness more than they care about their own.

  • Happy belated Mother's Day...to all you Mothers...out there...

    Saturday, May 07, 2005


    Mother’s Day

    By reading a lot of different bloggers I’ve notice a familiar theme, being a Mom isn’t that easy.
    I, behalf on men everywhere, want to thank you for all you do. If I could send each one of you a rose I would.

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    Single Moms, stay at home Moms and working Moms, there’s no easy choice you do what you do for your children, and you do it always with love. You are all heros, I salute you. You’re better than I could ever be.

    Now, I’ll tell you a quick story of my hero, my mother.

    When I was about 5 or 6, we moved from our apartment to another one a few blocks away, the only thing we didn’t take with us was my dad. My dad was a bit of an asshole, okay the biggest asshole ever. My mother never worked, she had three little children, me being the youngest. We moved to a really nasty place. It was okay for us back then because we were used to it. My mom had no job and had had enough of my dad to try to live on her own and take care of us.
    She went to the corner insurance company, lied about how fast she typed, and got a job. I remember the kind old man that lived on the first floor who taught my mom how to drive. I realize now being a parent how behind the 8 ball she was. Back then if the father wanted to pay support it seemed it was up to him. My mother never got a cent. My dad also seemed to forget about us to. My sis, took care of us while mom worked, another great mom she turned out to be.
    A couple of years before my mother passed away she was earning 6 figures in NYC. Through out my time with her on this planet she managed to buy her own home, which wasn’t disgusting, bought her first car, put me through Catholic school, took us to Disney world, and never, never, ever made me feel like my life wasn’t perfect, because it was, with her, I miss you so much mom, I could use you now.
    She lived and died in the same town, born and died in the same hospital. She was only 49 and had a lot more to give, but depression took over her at the end. But I promise her I will only remember how such a strong woman with three small kids kept us safe, even though her world was upside down. She is my hero.

    Happy Mother's day everyone.


    My Mood...

    David Gray

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    I got no reason
    but that I must
    maybe I feel
    like I’ve been gathering dust
    I must leave this harbour for the sea
    I'm too young to settle down and make a home
    but I don't know where I'm wanting to be
    I just know I have to be there alone

    stole my time, all my time
    stole my time for you

    pale winter sun
    is beatin' the ground
    why'm I throwin' away
    the best thing that I’ve found
    my young heart's in tatters and I’m sure
    that it will be a long time healing
    it's so hard to see what I’m doing this for
    when loneliness is all that I’m feeling

    stole my time, all my time
    spend my time for you

    now the wind it is blowing
    blowing leaves from the trees
    I’ve got no use knowing
    that with time it will ease
    I don't know where I'm going
    hope I get there soon
    cos my soul is hollow
    as the sorrowful moon
    na na na na...

    now the wind it is blowing
    blowing leaves from the trees
    I’ve got no use knowing
    that with time it will ease
    I don't know where I'm going
    hope I get there soon
    cos my soul is hollow
    as the sorrowful moon
    na na na na...

    the night is raining on my weary head
    taking me back

    see the sun spread its wings of gold
    as the dawn unfurls
    hear the song that the moon sings
    to the darkened world
    feel the fire lighting
    in the bitter cold
    see the light that shines
    through the windows of your soul


    Friday, May 06, 2005


    Geese, Lo Mein & Cake

    As I neared home last night on my way home from work, something flew in front of my windshield in a flash. I can only guess that it was a huge Canadian goose flying across the road to get to the park by my house. When I slammed on my breaks, I effectively avoided hitting the bird & successfully slammed my forehead into the steering wheel. The Chinese food I’d just picked up splattered out of the bag on my passenger seat & slimed itself on to the floor mat.

    My head was still aching when I pulled the car into my garage moments later. I turned off the ignition & sat there thinking, how am I ever going to get the ghastly smell of Chinese food out of my car? I knew I’d do a bang-up job cleaning up the lo mein from my floor...but that kind of smell lingers.

    I sat in silence...in the car...in the garage for awhile more. When I finally looked down, I saw the chocolate stain I’d gotten on my top while celebrating an art director’s 30th birthday about an hour before driving home. Apparently, it was too much for me to hold a plate of cake while standing, chatting & jamming forkfuls of fucking cake into my mouth & NOT get cake stains on my middle. How super cool I must have looked walking around work in a white top accented by brown stains.

    I opened the car door & got out. My plan was to tackle the cake stains, change into sweats, then it would be on to the lovely chore of lo mein removal.

    I went straight to the laundry room, stripped off my top & attacked it with a stain stick...I was beginning to feel a little bit better, at least I was making progress, the ache in my head lessened as the cake stain faded away.

    I headed upstairs to change. I almost jumped out of my skin when I found Michael, the contractor, in my bedroom putting the finishing touches on the expert spackle job that I obviously thought he’d be done with at this time of night.

    If he was embarrassed (& he should have been...FOR ME) he didn’t show it. I stumbled & stuttered & grabbed a sweatshirt & ran out of the room.

    I’m just glad that no creatures were harmed in the telling of this story.

    Thursday, May 05, 2005


    Sisters & White Pants

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    I spend a killer day shopping the outlets earlier in the week,
    with my bitchy younger sis...who...BTW...has some of the best
    taste in clothes going...too bad her taste in men runs towards
    the metrosexual annoying type...her hubby gets hit on by gay
    men in the subway ALL THE TIME...we laugh HARD about
    that...because he's got a little bit of that endearing
    homophobia thang going on (as sooo very many men do).

    We tried on clothes & were brutally honest
    with each other. She tried on a pair of white capri pants that made her
    ass look as wide as the state of Montana...so I told her the truth.
    I tried on a loverly pair of lined Ann Taylor pants with a wide leg & a
    cuff of the bottom...she said they made me look like the pants were in
    the process of swallowing me...feet first. Since those were not the looks
    that either one of us were going for...we both swore to all that is good
    & holy in life NEVER to buy white pants...because...unless you are a
    six foot tall, leggy, Amazonian chick whose feelings will not be hurt if
    someone tells them that they look dumpy & squat...you won't like what
    people are thinking when you walk by.

    Wednesday, May 04, 2005


    A Modest Proposal

    I need a vacation. We as bloggers should get together and swap houses for a week. Someone who write from Colorado can have a week at my place. I’m near Philadelphia and New York. I’m sure you’ll be able to find something to do. It’ll be like a timeshare thing. You can even have sex in my bed, because you’ll never find the video camera that’s hidden there.
    People who live in Iowa (ahem) will be screwed because who the fuck wants to go there? I wouldn’t mind a week in Canada or any northern states, I like a cool summer. Think about it and get back to us because I know Chick would love the beach. Me I’m an albino who can’t swim.

    One of the places you may want to visit while out here...

    Peddlers Village.
    It’s a little place here near where I live, a little village of shops, cottage looking stores. Where on the weekends they’ll have different festivals, last weekend theme was strawberries. I was there with a friend and picked up some chocolate covered strawberries my friend bought a huge bowl of strawberry shortcake which she couldn’t finish. We hadn’t seen each other in months and we got together walked around and shopped. It was a nice way to catch up on things. Never a dull moment because there was always something to do or go look at.
    A lot of the stores are artsy fartsy stuff. I like going there for the atmosphere mostly. At Christmas all the stores are covered in lights, Christmas music is played outside with speakers. It’s nice and cold and they have candles all along the walk ways. Very nice to walk and cuddle with someone, you can even stop to get some hot cider that is being made in a giant cauldron. I went there a few years at Christmas and never really bought anything, it’s just a nice way to spend a romantic night together.


    The Office

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    I seriously hope that I am not the only one out there that
    adores this TV show. Come on...tell me that you love it too & I'll give
    you some candy...(Maybe I actually will if you give me your home
    address...so I can send it to you...& then you'll be opening yourself up to
    being viciously stalked by the likes of me...but I dig risk takers...so
    the choice is yours).

    The first thing that made me fall in lust with
    this show:...there is NO laugh track! Tah Dah...& there IS a god up in
    heaven who's been listening to me & occasionally sees fit to answer my
    prayers. I hate being told that I'm supposed to think something's
    funny...insert laugh...HERE...laugh NOW, bitch...I SAID...LAUGH!
    I do not appreciate being spoken to in that way, do you?

    The Office is played out in "mockumentary" format & depicts the regional
    offices of Dunder Mifflin, a failing paper company in Scranton
    (so NOT a funny place), PA. It's a remake of a popular British show & it keeps the dry, deadpan humor of the original. Holy crap, I could be a TV reviewer if that last line is any indicator of my true talent when it comes to things like
    this...that really sounded smoltzy enough to be published in The TV
    Guide...now, didn't it?

    I love the rudely idiotic boss who says simply stupid
    things like, "As Abe Lincoln once said: If you are a racist we will
    attack you from the north" & "This is Pam . . . If you think she's cute
    now, you should have seen her a couple of years ago."

    Pam is by far my favorite character. My friend gave me the ultimate compliment when he said the way she is...reminded him of me. She looks you in the eye & only laughs at things that amuse her...even if she's laughing at what she's just said. Her humor is so subtle...that you'd miss it...if you
    weren't looking for it...& no one is looking for it.

    This show drew me in during the first episode when Dwight went into his desk drawer, reached for his stapler & found it set in yellow jello (he doesn't like jell-o because the way it moves frightens him). When the pansy ass told his
    boss...boss man said..."You have to EAT it out"...Oddly, I still am
    amused by this.

    Tuesday, May 03, 2005



    Cate tagged me - Thanks girlie...’cuz I had nothing today...so here you go:

    If I could be a musician...I’d be Gwen Stefani...she’s a musician right? Or would you call her something else? I’d stop covering songs from Fiddler on the Roof & dressing as a pirate...I’d quit trying to design the ugliest clothes in the universe & totally put all my energy into Gavin, my hunky British husband.

    If I could be a psychologist I’d be a couples counselor & provide a neutral supportive environment which allows couples the space to tackle the issues in patterns of relating in their relationship with each other & as individuals that prove too difficult to deal with without assistance...but I’d only tackle these issues with ultra hot patients.

    If I could be an athlete I’d be Anna Kournikova...because she’s a beautiful tennis player who parades around in teeny bikinis on exotic beaches & goes to great parties & seldom even feels the need to pick up a racket.

    If I could be a famous blogger I’d be Zach Braff...because he’s silly & funny & is honestly in awe of the fact that people actually read him.

    If I could be married to any current famous political figure I’d be a puppet master & be responsible for all the thoughts in his empty, stupid head.

    So here's how it goes... I get to tag 3 people, then they have to Pick 5 items from the following list, and complete the sentence with whatever fabulous things you can think of that you would do if you could be one of these things. No fair picking things you already are, either. Then you’re supposed to tag 3 other people to continue the excitement of the meme-ing.

    If I could be a scientist…
    If I could be a farmer…
    If I could be a musician…
    If I could be a doctor…
    If I could be a painter…
    If I could be a gardener…
    If I could be a missionary…
    If I could be a chef…
    If I could be an architect…
    If I could be a linguist…
    If I could be a psychologist…
    If I could be a librarian…
    If I could be an athlete…
    If I could be a lawyer…
    If I could be an inn-keeper…
    If I could be a professor…
    If I could be a writer…
    If I could be a llama-rider…
    If I could be a bonnie pirate…
    If I could be an astronaut…
    If I could be a world famous blogger…
    If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
    If I could be married to any current famous political figure…

    The 3 people I’m tagging are 3 bloggers who are kinda new to me:

    The Man in the Middle- who I know a couple of things about.

    Stacie- who I understand a couple of things about.

    &81 Vaginas- who I know next to nothing about.

    Monday, May 02, 2005


    Sunday Brunch

    Do you want to know what happens when you get together for Sunday brunch with friends you haven’t seen since Christmas time?

    First, you dress up & listen to boat loads of complaining from your husband...due to the fact that you’ve asked him to please put on a shirt without wrinkles or holes in inappropriate places. He does it...with a minimum of eye rolling & soft swearing under his breath.

    You drive to the restaurant with the gas meter in the car almost on E because you’re running late & don’t want to stop at a gas station & risk adding to your lateness.

    You get to the restaurant 10 minutes late & your friends are already there waiting for you. You get stuck with the crappy chair that must have one leg slightly shorter than the rest...because every time you breathe...the chair wobbles & makes you feel incredibly annoyed or a bit nauseous...or both. Add to this, the fact that you are seated facing the window & can not see a thing if you choose to look straight ahead...because that would mean forcing your eyeballs to look dead on into the sun.

    You get over these small inconveniences, after all...being late has it’s price (what’s the saying? The early bird gets the good fucking seat?).

    You order breakfast complete with a round of mimosas for your table. One mimosa leads to another...till you lose track of how many you’ve had (if you asked my husband how many I’ve had, he could tell you...he seems to think that it’s part of his job description, as my husband, to keep track of such things).

    You have a wonderful time eating great food & chatting with your friends. When you finally look at your watch, you realize that you’ve been having brunch for 2 1/2 hours (& that’s a long time to brunch) but it’s the kind of restaurant where the prices reflect the fact that they would never chase you out.

    So you sit in your tilty chair & the sun moves far enough up in the sky so that you can now look in front of you & no longer see yellow spots. Now you see your husband giving you the “time to go” look that he’s probably been giving you for the last hour...but you either couldn’t see it through all of the sunspots on your pupils...or were ignoring it like you’ve been known to do approximately 92.3% of the time.

    You hug & kiss your friends goodbye & promise to get together sooner than last time. You walk with hubby to your gas guzzling, uneconomical SUV & drive off with little to no gas in the tank.

    You can’t get far running on empty for long & we didn’t. We both cursed the mimosa gods for making us forget to fill ‘r up. We end up walking 10 miles (OK...it was more like 1/2 a mile...but in the shoes I was wearing...it felt like 10) to the nearest gas station. We get a ride back to our car & fill up the gas tank.

    We end our weekend comfortably back home...but I know hubby is secretly plotting ways to get out of meeting our other friends (for brunch) next weekend...I know because I've heard him quietly cursing under his breath about it...already.

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