Summah

I don't need a get rich quick scheme, as long as I have a get rich eventually scheme. I hate never having enough money. I don't mind working, I do mind making insufficient amounts of money to help profit someone else's dream. It's just silly. W and I have been talking lately about starting a business someday within the next couple years.

I decided a long time ago I want to open an Inn. Not sure when it'll become possible, seeing as I have very little money and a short credit history. It'll be years in the future, I'm guessing - at least three, if not a little more. Just thought I'd display the few thoughts I've gathered so far. Strangely enough, I mentioned this idea to W and he said opening an inn was something he'd been thinking about lately. I guess someone's been watching a little too much 'Gilmore Girls.' (I used to think it's just cause he thinks Lauren Graham's pretty, but I have my suspicions that a certain someone also may enjoy emotional aspects that have NOTHING WHATSOEVER to do with tight shirts. I don't dare ask, I'll just pretend he's staring at her chest and try to ignore the rest.)

Anyway... We probably have stars in our eyes when it comes to the amount of work it'll take, but I also think I would love the challenge. I'll update on this topic when the situation's changed. For now, I'm going to listen to the frogs (or something) whistling outside and try to sleep.

Invalid Subject

Been really sick for about a week now, I'm finally starting to feel better. I have about ten minutes (I think) before my nighttime cold med starts kicking in, so I thought I'd drop by and say hello. And a couple other things:

Monk isn't that funny.

Tylenol products taste better than generic.

I miss Adrienne :-(

I might have a job at a bookstore *huzzah!* If I can motivate myself to overcome my fear of the possibility of running into someone I don't wish to see.

I think I know what it feels like to be shot with a tranquilizer dart. In just the last two minutes, the whole world slowed down. It's lovely, and strange. I hope I don't have anything important to get done, I'll be useless in about two more...


Yup. Goodnight.

You Didn't Ask For This

ust wanted to take a minute to strike out at the natural order that lets women have children. You all know my beliefs, I'm sure, that I believe God controls who is given life and that he would not allow a baby to be born if it wasn't supposed to happen.

That being said, the way things are really frustrates me sometimes. Of couse it's all because I'm judgmental and snobby - we all are, in our own ways. But my judgmental nature wakes up when people get pregnant.

A certain person got pregnant a few months ago and it's taken me this long to (not) get over it. Truthfully, it still bothers me. One of those things I can't just let go, because it makes me feel I have something to feel superior about.

She's having twins. Fucking twins? This woman already has a son who she attempts to use to manipulate men to stay in her life. We once had a phone call from her little boy, sobbing because she'd convinced him W was his, "Best friend" and that he'd, "Always be there for him," and now he wouldn't be seeing him anymore. W hadn't put himself in that position at any point that he's aware of, but she made promises to her little boy to break his heart, and try to blame it on W so he'd stay around a little longer. She forgot that at that point, W was living for himself, so that phone call did nothing but further his resolve to get rid of her.

And now she's having two more. This is the woman who's online quote used to say, "I don't sniff coke, I just like the way it smells." Responsible, respectable, wholesome. June fucking Cleaver, pearl necklace and all. (Ew, unintentional dirty pun. I'm leaving it.) More like Joan Crawford, trailer park edition.

This is the woman who named a couple different men as the daddy before settling on the one she knew would take her back if he thought the babies were his. Stupid man, unbelievable woman. I don't know whether to be disgusted, or awed that she so clearly understands her situation and doesn't allow it to bother her.

Well, I guess those aren't mutually exclusive, so I think I'll be a little of both.

So. I'm a terrible person because it's not much of my business anymore. And she's a terrible person, just as a matter of fact, but of the two of us I'd have to say I'm in worse shape, because I'm still interested in her life on at least a monthly basis. I ask about her once in awhile to see if there's any new dirt. I'm sick.

Maybe she did grow up. Maybe I can give her the benefit of the doubt. She did try to apologize to W, in her own way. I doubted at the time - still do - that it was sincere. I look for the worst in her and always will, so to me and W it seemed she only was apologizing for turning him loose before she was really done with him. Not for encouraging him to mess up his entire life, not exactly for hurting him, but more for using him 'til she realized what she wanted. (Read: broke up with him, sortakinda, but still wanted him to be there for her when she was lonely.) Maybe it's something she really got past, but my mind won't let me believe it.

It's just... I try so hard to be a good 'extra' mom to K, and I've always wanted babies. I haven't had them, though, because I've never been to a point in my life when I was ready for them. I don't have a steady home life to bring a baby into, I don't think it's right to raise a baby without a daddy if it can be helped. The world is already overpopulated as is, so if I'm intent on bringing a baby into it, I feel it's my duty to do everything possible to make their life a good one. Settling for mediocre for yourself is one thing; bringing kids into your life when you're not taking appropriate care of the one you have is a different situation altogether.

I feel guilty for writing all this down, because I know we've each made our own decisions, and the bottom line is it's none of my business. It's just frustrating sometimes that life goes on the way it does.

I Can Has Cheezburger?

This evening on Yahoo.com's front page, the most prominent article is --- wait for it... wait for iiiit... ready?

Shoe tying. A video of how to tie shoes, "the old fashioned way". Thanks Yahoo!, now I'm paranoid. I've been tying my shoes the same way since I was six years old, does that make me out of date, or just old school? I don't jump on many trends but I'm wondering if maybe there was something I missed. A flyer? Perhaps a chain email? I hate not getting the joke.

I hate that this is news.

In other "news", I have a gigantic black bruise on my leg from perching too long on the window sill yesterday during the break in. Well, to be truthful, I did it again later just to see what it felt like to be a bird. Just kidding. Birds don't perch on my windowsill. This isn't a Disney film, after all. I figured I'd update you on my unintentional self-mutilation, since shoe-tying is headlining today's news. Maybe I should send a photo of my bruise to Yahoo!? Never know what'll happen. Maybe my injury will make headlines, and then be "ripped from the headlines" for one of those shows where they solve crime by poking dead people's innards. I can only hope.

Fingers crossed, ya'll!
Whuh?

K has a crush on a boy named Kevin. He's 5 years old, and sometimes they play together. If you ask her about him, she blushes and hides her face in her hands, and giggles when she tries to answer. She's only 3 years old! These kids start too young these days. Back in my day, we didn't like anyone until we were in the double-digits, if we liked them at all, but these youngsters are always jumping the gun, rushing in to everything willy-nilly*. The fitting for her wedding dress is tomorrow, Wayne will be discussing a bride price with Kevin Saturday morning. We don't know exactly what to expect, but there were rumors he was demanding no less than three oreos. We may need to postpone this arrangement for another year. We'll see.

Willy Nilly

Does anyone understand the new caveman commercial Geico's been running? Two cavemen are talking out on a balcony during a party. Caveman A says something to Caveman B about how, "A little loyalty would be nice, that's all." Caveman C runs in, announces he and (Jill?) are, "Getting back together," and is told to leave. Normally I have no problem putting these scenarios into some sort of context, but this one has me stumped. I get that maybe Caveman A wants loyalty from Caveman C after helping him through his breakup (or going through one himself?) but the line that throws me is said by Caveman A. The line, "What? Like having Geico makes me less of a caveman?"

What is that supposed to mean, anyway? I tried working out what it might represent as a euphamism, but nothing made sense except maybe, "erectile dysfunction,"** but I have a hard time wrapping my mind around that. I somehow doubt Geico wants to be subliminally equated to a flaccid weiner, especially since their target audience seems to be men in the 18-35 age range, but that's all I could come up with that didn't delve into more sensitive territory. (Gonorrhea, perhaps? I'm thinking that's a little taboo for the realm of advertising.)

If anyone wants to explain that commercial to me, I'll give you a lollipop. Tootsie pop, even, and you can choose which flavor.

This Is What Happens When I Watch TV At Night

Just saw a new DQ commercial, in which a waffle bowl (really a man in a giant foam costume, for the skeptical) opens his door to find a lovely blonde swirl of ice cream. "I just moved into the building," she says, "Do you have some chocolate syrup I could borrow?" (Comment: What links those two thoughts together, I'm not certain.) "Sure," replies WaffleBowl, and hands her a bottle. "Just out of curiosity, what do you want it for?"

"Oh," she smiles coyly. "I was just thinking I'd dump it all over myself." As she turns to walk away, we see WaffleBowl's reaction. Shock, as we'd expect. And then, half a second before the words "Dairy Queen" take over the screen, a sudden... extra reaction. WaffleBowl is watching her walk away and suddenly visibly tenses and grunts sharply. Kind of like he'd been punched in the stomach. . Kind of like something else that likely is much nicer than being punched in the stomach. The screen is immediately filled with images of the new dishes, and it was so sudden I thought I didn't see what I thought I saw.

Maybe I'm being a perv and misinterpreting an innocuous moment of comedy, but that's ok with me. It was hysterical. I can't wait to see it again, and I'll admit: I'm now very curious to try what DQ has to offer.

Long One, Get Comfy

Easily the most interesting afternoon I've had in a while. About 5 this afternoon, W and I decided via text that I'd make a quick picnic dinner, grab K from daycare and jet over to the school so they could visit for a few minutes before his first class. I had to be there by 5:30 to make it work, so I ran around throwing dinner together and trying to make myself look decent.

All right, more than decent, which may be part of the problem.

At 5:14 I ran out to the car, jumped in the driver's seat and - no keys. I never, ever take my keys out of the ignition when I'm home alone because I don't have my own housekeys anymore. (That's being remedied tomorrow.) I'd forgotten W had driven my car last, and he has freakishly uptight ways when it comes to leaving cars unlocked with the keys in them. He'd brought my key inside. I groped around under the seat, frantically searching for a spare...only to realize I don't have one. Never have. I ran to the front door, praying that maybe I hadn't given it the extra tug necessary to latch it securely. I had. No dice. Damn my sudden need for security measures!

The back door wasn't any better, it was actually quite the cocktease. The knob turned, but the bolt was still firm, despite my attempts to will it out of place. Wasn't sure what time it was then, but W pays by the minute for every minute K is at daycare past 5:30. The only window I had a chance of getting in through was our bedroom, and I was elated when I was able to jiggle not one, but both screens out from the back. (Now that I think of it, we're not very safe here.)

Thank god I'd left my laptop where I had, because I pulled it's cord to bring it to me, reached in through the slightly open window and sent a text message to W, "You DID bring my keys inside last night?" A moment later I had the affirmative, with, "Sorry bout that. Why?" "Just wanted to know before I tried to break in."

I hauled a mildewy box out of the shed and did a test jump on it to see if it would hold. "Mehhh... probably," was the verdict, and I planned my ascent. First I removed the glass from the window (wow. Really not safe here,) then pushed the matress away from the bed. I was glad no one else was home, because it was noisy as hell and I said a few words I wouldn't be proud of. I very slowly clambered in the window, over the spiky ledge, and onto the bed. As I pulled my foot in, my computer beeped with another text message from W: "Did you try the back door?"

He's brilliant. I'm brilliant, we're all smart here.

I got K two minutes late and made it to McIntosh with about five minutes left to visit. I have two huuuge bruises on my shins from kneeling very awkwardly on the sharp metal sill. They look like someone tried to take my knees out with a baseball bat. But I survived, clothing and all intact with a little bonus dog poo on my right sneaker. I'm not washing it off - it's the smell of success.