So tell me why it doesn't feel the same

Why does love have to be so %*$#ed up?

Aiden just friend requested me on Facebook, and I immediately felt this pit of dread in my stomach. It's too soon! I've known you for less than a month! I can't accept it yet.

I felt such a spark before that first date with him... probably because I psyched myself up for it. Now that I know he likes me, I feel like it's having the opposite effect. I can't quite put my finger on it... I try to rationalize it by thinking, "if I like him back, I'm setting myself up for potential heartbreak, so my feelings are legit." But I don't even know if I really, truly like him in the same way he likes me.

(I suppose I could chalk some of this up to antidepressants... any psych people out there want to chime in? ;)

He's cute, funny, super smart, and overall a good guy. But there's something missing... [over]confidence? A tiny bit of cockiness? Thinking back on the guys I had crushes on (not necessarily dated, sadly), the ones that I was the most attracted to were charismatic and outgoing. I haven't seen that yet in Aiden. Put it this way -- I'm not jumping up and down with anticipation for him to meet my friends, because I think it'd be really awkward.

On the other hand, I think he's picked up on the fact that *I'm* a little broken, and this is hard for me. As you can tell, I'm not the most smooth person when it comes to dating... I'm super awkward and clueless, even at the age of 30. And yet he's not scared off by this total ineptitude I posess. That, or he just wants to get in my pants, ha.

I don't know what to do about the FB request. If I keep putting it off, he's going to ask why, and I'll have to tell him I don't want to share that with him yet... and possibly expose my lack of feelings for him.



Post title song reference: "Why Pt. 2" - Collective Soul

Mobile post

Downloaded a Blogger app for my phone, so trying to see if this works!

To make things interesting, I managed to torture myself by looking at D's Facebook profile and feeling some satisfaction that he no longer had Jailbait in his photo, plus the "In a relationship" line was gone.

Unfortunately, his Twitter feed is still full of stupid lovey-dovey PDA between the two. I'm 90% sure he's moved to be with her, which I shouldn't be surprised about considering I'm the one who encouraged him to do it, but it still sucks. It sucks because despite the fact that he essentially screwed me over and broke promises to be with a cheating 20 year old, I still miss him. I compare how attracted I am to D versus Aiden, and D wins. Am I biologically designed to be drawn to complete assholes or something? Because D is most definitely one. A sexy asshole, but an asshole nonetheless.

As far as I'm concerned, he and Jailbait deserve each other... but it doesn't make it any easier.

Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

So yeah. I think I'm too fucked up date guys or be in a relationship.

It's stupid… it's not like I was in an unhealthy, abusive relationship à la 50 Shades of Grey (which I haven't read, but this review sums it up hilariously). I don't have any psychological reason for feeling the way I do, other than the fact I've spent nearly my entire adulthood being self-sufficient and independent. (I'm so stupidly/stubbornly independent that I once hand carried six 12 can fridge packs of Diet Coke and two shopping bags of groceries out to my car in one trip despite people offering to help... the next day I realized I had pulled muscles in both my arms.)

Last night I had my second date with Aiden. We had a great dinner at a French restaurant and lots of laughs. After that we walked over to a sculpture garden, despite it being roughly 25 degrees outside, then over to the Metro since it was getting absurdly cold. He put his arm around me at that point, and it just felt weird. I'm not a very touchy-feely person even with my family and close friends (save for hugs and stuff), so it threw me for a loop – like, "Good god, now I can't think of what I was going to say because I'm too focused on the fact that his arm is around me and how positively alien it feels." [Headdesk.]

Me, apparently.

Anyway, we get down to the subway if only to get out of the wind/cold and sit around and talk. He had his arm around me again, but when we were talking I couldn't look him in the eye because inwardly I was chastising myself for being such a weenie and at the same time wondering why I didn't feel anything inside other than discomfort. Whatever giddiness I felt when I first met him is now cold, hard, scared-shitless steel. I don't know if it's 10+ years of [relatively mild] antidepressants that have dulled my ability to have a positive response to someone's else attention, or just the general feeling of "Meh" I have to anything that I haven't revved myself up for, but it's an awful feeling to have... no feeling.

That fortress I've used so successfully in the past to prevent myself from getting hurt by shutting people out is now preventing me from moving forward. All I've ever wanted was a boyfriend. (I know, there are so so so many things wrong with that statement, but when you're a total dork in high school and college is full of simply NSA hookups, you tend to start feeling like there's something inherently wrong with you.) And now that I've been presented with the opportunity, my response is to stick my head in the sand.

We finally get on the train and he gets off at the next stop. Before he leaves I give him a hug and a peck on the lips, because at that point that was all I could do in the middle of a subway car without having a nervous breakdown. Then, once the train pulled away, I started to cry. I don't know why I did, it just happened. Later he texted me to make sure I had gotten home OK, and we shared a joke about the unreliability of our subway system, so at least he doesn't resent me... right? I can't really process much more right now.

Post title song reference: "Crucify" - Tori Amos

'Cause I'm being taking over by the fear

A couple days ago I had a decent structure to this post, but the words aren't coming to me. (I even had a great post title, and I can't remember it.) The past two weeks have been stressful at work, and I ran out of one of my antidepressants, which I thought wouldn't affect me (it's a VERY low dose primarily to target anxiety). Yeahhh... it wasn't until I started sobbing when a Journey song came on the car radio that I realized I probably need them more than I thought. Oops.

Okay, it's sorta coming back to me. I think the gist of my post was I'm freaking out a tiny bit over a guy. Okay, I'm freaking out a lot. I met a guy a couple weeks ago at a bar, and we really hit it off. (I guess I need to give him a fake name.... let's go with Aiden.) He walked me to the subway and we traded numbers, etc. etc.

Anyway, we went out on Wednesday. I was completely strung out, though - I had a ridiculous day and hadn't eaten much, so I was super nervous that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Fortunately, after a couple drinks things had smoothed out, and it went really well.

Unfortunately, for the past several days prior, my face thought it'd be really funny to be a total jerk and not only generate flaky dry patches but some very inconvenient, very RED zits on my face, and I was super self-conscious about it. There's only so much makeup can do, and standing on the harsh fluorescent lights on the subway completely killed any self-confidence I had at the end of the night. Thanks skin!

So I guess it went well. He wants to see me again, so we're going to dinner Sunday night.

This sounds dumb, but I'm scared now. I really like him, but I don't want to screw this up because I overthink EVERYTHING. I'm so used to bottling up my emotions and closing myself down that to do otherwise is downright foreign. Because of that, I feel like I need exact instructions on how to do this successfully: If there's no logical, "right" procedure that I'm supposed to follow, I can't do it... I feel awkward if I don't.

Even worse, I've never had real romantic "first kiss" with a guy on a date. (Good lord, that is sad.) So I am completely freaked out about the idea of kissing Aiden on Sunday night. Like it's going to be weighing on me throughout the entire meal, because right now I don't feel any desire to... not that I don't find him attractive, I do. But it's almost like my emotions have been tampered down for so long that the idea of someone actually liking me back is a frightening, foreign notion. And thinking about sleeping with him puts me into a full blown panic attack.

Anyway. That's enough rambling for now. Cross your fingers for me that I don't blow it too badly. ;)



Post title song reference: "The Fear" - Lily Allen

Match.com apparently has me on their poop list

I know, I know, I'm terrible at updating. Hell, I don't think I've logged into to Blogger for at least a month, so I have no idea what anyone else has been up to, so now I feel extra guilty.

Not much has changed – had my eyelid surgery back in September, only to find that the original stitches didn't hold so she had to go back and fix it last Friday. ("One little stitch" turned into many more stitches, so my eye was hugely swollen and bloodshot for 3 days. Super sexy.)

I also bit the bullet and bought a three month match.com subscription, but right now I am UBER pissed at the website. I think I originally made the profile when I was like 25, but hid it for 5 years because I wasn't an active subscriber. After my umpteenth failure on OKCupid, I thought it wouldn't hurt to purchase a few months' worth to see if the theory that paying for a dating service would yield more quality guys.

I went on one date that was just okay – good, but I wasn't really feeling anything. He was perfectly nice and normal, and we had a good time, but I just didn't really feel any sort of connection.

It probably doesn't help that Match keeps fucking up my account. Right after my date, my account was suddenly locked – I couldn't log in at all. I sent an email to customer service, they restored access, and everything was fine for a week. The next weekend the exact same thing happened. And then a week later, it happened AGAIN! By the second time I requested that they credit me for the days I was locked out, and the third time I asked the CSR *why* I kept getting locked out... he claimed it was because emails that were sent to me were bounced, which is complete B.S. – I keep getting Stir event notifications in my inbox, so it's obviously working! The annoying part is that when they do restore my account access, they don't notify me by email, and they also switch my profile to "Hidden."

Just now I uploaded a new photo, went back to my dashboard, and guess what? Yup, you guessed it – locked out. It literally was only about 30 seconds before I was kicked off. This is at least the fifth time it's happened. At this point I am so frustrated with the site, not only because I only get emails and winks from 45 year old guys living 50+ miles away, but I can't seem to use it for more than a few days before I get kicked off.

I don't want to give up on using the site, but it's not exactly useful when I'm constantly disappearing from it. I'm tempted to ask them to cancel that account and let me make a new profile (*and* give me subscription credit!) to see if that fixes the issue.

It'll also solve the problem of me using the "Daily Match" feature, which apparently emails the guys you've clicked "Yes" on to let them know you're interested! That was not my intention... I really just thought it Favorite'd them the way anonymously... nope. Way to tip my hand, Match.

This time, baby, I'll be bulletproof

Okay, now that I'm a little more composed and not ranting about the unfortunate screwup with my doctor's office, I can tell the story of Josh and the random dance party on Saturday.

Several friends and I went out to dinner at a French restaurant in the city this past Saturday. (The food was good, but my stomach is NOT used to French cooking... Cream and butter and cheese sound delicious together, but I couldn't even finish half of my plate because it was so heavy.) We stopped at another bar after dinner – it was kind of a, "This place looks chill, and it just started raining, so let's go here!" decision.

The gist of the story goes: there was a party in a large room upstairs next to the bathroom. I asked a girl in the bathroom what was going on, and she goes, "It's so-and-so's going away party! You should totally come! Bring your friends!" (You know, typical drunk bathroom conversation.) I told her we might check it out later (polite answer, considering there was NO ONE there and we'd stick out like sore thumbs. I told my friends about the party and random invitation, saying the DJ up there was amazing, but it was empty as hell.

In meantime we drank for another 90 minutes before deciding to move on. One of my friends urged me to go back upstairs to see if the party had gotten any better, so I bravely did another bathroom run.

The party was now ROCKIN'. Tons of people there, lots of dancing, etc. As I made my way through the room to head back downstairs, who do I see? Josh. Oh, SHIT.

He spots me and I chat with him for about a minute before being interrupted by some girls to grab him and his friends for a photo. Once they were done, one of the girls starts immediately talking to him, and I'm still standing there like a total idiot. After about 20 seconds of this, I realized he was clearly more engrossed in her than continuing to talk to me, so I tap him on the shoulder and tell him I'm going back downstairs to my friends.

Now, is it just me, or was that rude of him? I didn't know anyone there, we were having a conversation until it was interrupted by photo time, and he lets some girl cut in. Either they both were just too sloshed to realize I was standing there (hard to do since I was taller than everyone within a 5 foot radius), or he's a dick.

I told my friends about the now-bumpin' party and the awkward run-in with Josh. Since we were all very buzzed and dying to go dancing (especially my best friend), we decided to scope it out. Hey, we had an invite, why the hell not?

We head upstairs and my friends and I hit the dance floor. Holy shit, it was SO MUCH FUN. The DJ was great, the people around us were having a fantastic time, we were dancing like crazy... and turns out we weren't the only party crashers there, so it was all cool. (And Josh wasn't even near us, so I didn't feel awkward.) Seriously, we were having a complete blast.

And then, as I'm jumping up and down to Katy Perry, I look over to my right and see Josh making out with some chick.

Me:

The funny part was, I didn't really care. I mean, yeah, it blows because I thought Josh was cute, but to glance over and see him sucking some girl's face off at a GOING AWAY PARTY seems kinds tacky. First off, you're 30. This is not a Miami dance club or a fraternity house basement. The hostess is moving across the country, and you're grinding and making out with some chick? Gross.

I think if this happened 10 years ago when I was still in college, I'd be shell-shocked and it would have ruined the rest of my night. But instead, I just turned around and kept dancing and having the time of my life with my friends. I think it just goes to show that if you have the right people with you, it makes all the difference. Also, it made me realize that Josh is a player who only cares about getting ass.

My only regret is giving him the courtesy of saying goodbye when we left about 30 minutes later. I should have just walked out of there without saying anything, because he really didn't deserve another 5 seconds of my time.

All my friends were talking about the party for days afterwards because they had so much fun dancing. In the end, that's what matters!

Sometimes you just got to show how you feel

It's weird how a somewhat good day can turn right on its head into an ugly one with a phone call.

Long story short(ish), a few weeks ago I made a last minute decision to fly to Europe to see my grandmother, who I haven't seen since she left the U.S. about 6 years ago. She's getting up there in years, and my parents were already going, so this was an opportune time to go.

The only issue was that I had a major sports-related appointment in the middle of their trip. I couldn't move the appointment any earlier, but there was an opening the day after I came back. However, that was also the day I was scheduled for minor eye surgery (not Lasix :)), and to try and do the two on the same day was too much to handle, especially after flying back from Europe the night before. After much hemming and hawing, I decided to fly out right after my appointment on Friday, then come back the next Wednesday with my parents (which coincided well with my Thursday eye surgery, so they could pick me up after it was over).

Well, today I get a voicemail from my doctor's office, saying they hadn't received the new photos of my eye needed to get the pre-approval from my insurance company for the procedure. I was confused, because I had sent the photos almost two weeks ago. I called the office and told them that, and the receptionist told me the nurse I'd emailed them to never received them. As a result, I'd have to change my surgery date because they couldn't get the pre-approval in time for next Thursday's and wait another MONTH to have it done.

I was pissed. I had specifically built my travel plans around this damn surgery, only to have the doctor's office screw up. One would think if they hadn't gotten the photos I'd promised to send when they reminded me on July 22nd, they would have called! But I did send them, on July 24th, and now I'm being told they were never received. (Maybe, just maybe, if your office had its own email address and you weren't relying on someone's personal account, we wouldn't have had this issue!)

I forwarded the original message back to her and told her to check the email again. I was so upset that I hung up the phone and started crying at my desk because a) all that stressing/planning was for absolutely nothing, and b) now I'm going to have stitches in my eyelid right in the middle of competition season, which fucking sucks. I'm still furious, because I have the original email that clearly has the two photos, and it was sent with plenty of time to process the pre-approval. It was THEIR mistake, not mine, although obviously I should have called and confirmed they'd received them, since they didn't let me know they hadn't. (Since I had sent/received email from them before, there's no reason why it would get "lost" or sent to the spam folder.)

Jeez. I'm sorry for the two negative posts in a row, but I hate, hate, hate it when crap like this happens. I specifically told work that I'd take a sick day for the surgery, but now that I'm going to be home, there's no sense in me not going into work, since I have the world's worst vacation accrual policy and the three days I'm taking in Sweden are 25% of my current vacation allotment. (Meanwhile, I get to listen to my cubiclemate prepare fun work international travel plans and get twice as much vacation because of the comp time she receives while on travel.) It's annoying because if my sick leave were just PTO, I'd have oodles of vacation time. (I swear, sick leave is discriminatory towards single, healthy people without kids.)

Stop being upset over nothing, self. You didn't cry when you saw Josh making out with some chick at a dance party this past Saturday (story for another time), why should something like this cue the waterworks?





Post title song reference: "You're So Real" - Matchbox 20

Maybe I just feel too much

Depression is such a selfish beast. It'll sit there dormant while everything in life seems to go right, and then when a few wrong things happen in a row, it lurches out of the darkness, grabs ahold of your soul, and sucks you back down with him. That's kind of how I feel like now... sliding down the tar pit of bummed-out-ness.

British guy from OKC never messaged me back. I completely went against my own rule and messaged him a second time (over two weeks after I sent the first, so it wasn't like I did it immediately), just to see he'd bite. I figured I had a 0% chance of response if I didn't ping him, and if I did send a message, the worst outcome would still be 0%. But I should have figured a guy with a "red" response rate isn't going to give anyone a chance. I know I shouldn't take these things so personally, but I'm sitting here tearing up because I don't feel good enough. Over one guy... stupid, right? :-/

Sometimes I wish I had gone to grad school years ago, because at the least I'd be back in an environment where you meet guys and establish a friendship before actually going out. I feel like my online personality is different from my real life persona, and I can't seem to get the two to match up. It was the same way when I did kickball – I felt much more comfortable meeting people there because the bar scene was so relaxed and casual. Unfortunately the league I played in self-destructed and it's full of 22 year olds now.

In other news, last week I logged into my credit card account to find some purchases I definitely didn't make. This is the third time in 5 years that my credit card number has been stolen! I think I'm extremely vigilant about using my card safely, yet for some reason my damn number has been up for grabs. It's getting tiresome... thankfully it hasn't affected my credit score or anything, but it's still a nuisance and a little (okay, a LOT) unsettling.

Annnnd now my manager is griping at me because one of our analytics applications is running slowly, probably because they've added like 150 websites and are tracking too many. So that's my fault that our server can't handle that kind of load, and I'm getting flack for it. "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job..."
Friday, you can't come soon enough!




Post title song reference: Foo Fighters - End Over End

Fighting the battle of who could care less

Also known as, "Adventures in OKCupid messages."

10 days into logging back into OKCupid, and not much on the horizon. I've gotten plenty of visitors and a handful of messages, but unfortunately quality != quantity.

For example, one message I got last Saturday consisted of: "Princess, I'm taking you out for dinner and dancing. On me, of course. Call 555-555-5555 blah blah blah."

Princess? Only my mom calls me that, and even then I don't like it.

And then we have the overachievers... there's the guy that sent me two messages in the span of 6 hours (and keeps visiting my profile), and another that sent me a message that said, "Hi, I'm ___. Pleased to meet your acquaintance." I deleted it, because he sounded like a scammer, and the next day I received ANOTHER message from him: "Did you get my last message?" SRSLY?!

And the best one so far -- I couldn't delete this one fast enough -- "You look like a dominant submissive. Am I right?" (WTF? Isn't that kind of an oxymoron...?)

[Headdesk.]

I have responded to a couple of messages (I have a little trivia question on my profile, and lots of them try to answer it. Unfortunately, it's kind of nerdy, so it attracts nerds). Some seem to have potential, but overall I still seem to be attracting duds. And, go figure, the couple of guys I've initiated contact with don't reply. Go figure. I really wish cute-possibly-British-guy would respond, but I also didn't give him much to go on... plus I did it before I updated my information and photos, so he probably saw my not-so-great old phot (provided he checked my profile!). I dunno, sucks that the few guys I'm immediately turned off by are either 1) cowards afraid of women taking initiative, or 2) I suck.
 
On a side note relating to OKCupid, here's something crazy: last night when I was on my bike ride, I passed a guy walking out of his apartment building over to his motorcycle. I smiled at him, he smiled back, and as I pedaled away, I thought, "He's cute! Wow, he looks a LOT like one of the guys I have on my Favorites list." This morning, I went and checked, and I'm about 70% sure it's the same guy. He rides motorcycles and lists renovating his apartment in (that area of town where I was riding) as his interests, and I know for a fact that that apartment building is owner-only. Or I could be completely wrong and just ended up smiling at a random guy. ;)



Post title song reference: "Battle of Who Could Care Less" - Ben Folds Five

Got my mind set on you

I made the mistake of buying a cupcake for dessert, eating 75% of it, and then finishing the rest a few hours later. I'm literally vibrating from the sugar overdose. I can't stop shaking my leg and I was starting to get a headache.

But man, it was SO GOOD. Chocolate and vanilla cream cheese marble cake with cream cheese frosting. DELISH. A reminder of why I only allow myself to have cake once in awhile, because I have no self control over sweets.

Anyway, Bluemoon's post about climbing out of the online dating pool in September reminds me that I need to get more involved in it. This past weekend, I went on OKCupid and updated some of my profile (considering I logged in maybe once a month, that's pretty big. And it apparently bumps your profile back up, because I started getting all these messages and visitors). I went to my favorites list, and (sad to say?) a lot of my favorites were still active. I don't know, maybe it's a good thing, considering I had only messaged one of them in the past six months. (He didn't respond.)

As I was "window shopping," I looked at this guy's profile that sounded amazing. I don't want to go into too much detail, but the more I read, the more excited I got: "Dude, he's SO FREAKING CUTE on paper! And in photos! And it sounds like he has an accent! AND HE HAS GLASSES!" (I've had a glasses fetish since I was like, 7. It's kind of sad/weird.)

And, go figure, I sent him a little message (nothing too serious), and he hasn't responded. Or checked out my profile.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Is this karma for me not replying to messages I've received? Granted, I haven't read most of them (I feel skeezy doing it at work, and my hard drive died on my laptop, so I've had to resort to my phone), but still. The ultimate men-and-women dating issue: why is he not interested when I express interest in him, and vice versa?

What I need to do is reply to messages that interest me, send a few messages to ones on my favorite list, and forget about the adorable guy and move along. Right? I'm going out for drinks with Noah tonight, the guy who used to work in my office... I like him but he's just really, really smart and I don't really feel much connection with him. We'll see.

He's good at being what he's not, gives nothing away

And now for something completely superficial!

I've been so amazingly good at NOT checking D's Twitter feed or Facebook in the past couple of months. And I didn't wish him a happy birthday (easy to do since the asshat didn't send me one), so I was doing really well.

However, the other day I was playing around with my Twitter account and clicked on his name from a direct message sent about 2 years ago. I figured I had been good for so long that I could cheat one day... wrong.

One of his tweets from early in June said, "Our first ultrasound!" with a link to a photo of him and Jailbait next to a monitor. Fortunately, I had already seen the newer tweets that said, "It was a joke!", so I didn't immediately pass out. (She's an "athlete" for a living – I use that term loosely since her sport is pretty stupid and her parents pay for everything while she doesn't work or go to college – and presumably was getting an ultrasound for an injury or something.)

Seriously. What a sick fucking joke. She's fucking 21, for chrissakes. Could you imagine if her parents saw that tweet? I think mine would have killed me. (Hell, they'd have knocked some sense into me for dating a guy 13 years older than me when I was that age.)

Worse yet, people were saying, "Congrats!" to D, as if it were some giant blessing that he knocked up some chick who doesn't even have a college education or future beyond her "professional athlete" schtick. (Can you tell I'm still pissed at him for, well, everything? Not just the breaking my heart part, but letting some cheating skank charm him into giving up everything and drop the ball on the project I worked my ass off to help him with.) As I've probably said before, I'm equally as angry with myself for falling for his bullshit and false promises.

Anyway, on a more happy note... I am obsessed with this video. My grandmother used to have a Siamese when I was a little kid, who was one of the best, most tolerant cats ever... so I have a soft spot for the little blue-eyed cuties. Enjoy. :)

Post title song reference: Nikka Costa - "Push & Pull"

Hatred passed on, passed on and passed on

This is going to be a little different (and late, considering the SCOTUS rulings were last week), but does anyone else get really disheartened when you see nasty, politically themed bumper stickers or plates? Specifically, I'm talking about these types:

Helloooo, crazy.

The other day I saw a guy with stickers on his car: "My dog bites Democrats," and "My cat is smarter than the President." Come on, dude, don't drag your poor animals into this!

And then, of course, there's this license plate, which really bothers me, because I'm relatively sure Ben Franklin did NOT envision the rattlesnake to be a symbol of ass-backwards-ness:

To be perfectly honest, the Tea Party frightens me. Even though Wikipedia defines them as a group that "advocates protection of the work of the founding fathers of the United States, reducing U.S. government spending and taxes, and reducing the U.S. national debt and federal budget deficit," I feel they certainly don't portray that message. All I hear is the garbage and hatred spewed by the likes of Michelle Bachman and Rush Limbaugh and the "they're gonna terk our guns!" crazies. I feel like since the radical anti-government, bigoted nutjobs have a socially acceptable, common ground with the TP (small government and conservative social values), they feel it's OK for them to express their prejudice publicly in the name of a political party:

"Tea Party members are not necessarily any more racist than typical white Americans, but that the movement's supporters are more likely to be, leading the researchers to conclude that, 'what the Tea Party means to its members and what it represents to the large public may, in fact, not be the same thing.' The study of survey data compiled in 2010 found that people who viewed the Tea Party favorably more often agreed with negative sentiments about African-Americans, than did the general population."

I know I'm supposed to be tolerant, that expressing dislike doesn't make me any better than them. I know everyone is entitled to their opinion and political views. But when these opinions and views are narrow-minded, homophobic, and fucking downright racist, it makes me furious. I get it: there are Tea Party members who aren't racist assholes. Yet not enough TP members are stepping up to refute the overt bigotry and prejudice, and it certainly doesn't help that those same people are against gay rights and think it's OK to make ridiculous laws to control women's bodies, so you know they're not very tolerant to begin with. ;)

I think what's triggering this semi-rant is 1) DOMA and Prop 8 being struck down (thank you, lawd!), 2) the Voting Rights being repealed (boo), and 3) when I was out biking on Saturday, I got angry honked at by a guy with a "Don't Tread on Me" sticker. For what reason, I don't know – it was a rural country road with low traffic, I was so far over to the right side of the road that I was practically in the gravel, and I had my blinky light on, so it's not like I riding at night and invisible. Maybe he was pissed because I was a woman and exercising instead of cooking dinner and doing laundry at home, where I obviously belonged! Ha.

Anyway. I suck at writing political opinion stuff, so sorry if it's hard to read. :)





Post title song reference: Rage Against the Machine - Settle for Nothing

Call me, definitely

[Warning: Long winded.]

Okay, as promised... my exciting Saturday from last weekend. I planned to go for a bike ride out in a rural area of the state, maybe about 35 miles from where I live. The slight problem with this area is that there are a lot of gravel/dirt roads, and I have a road bike, so I parked my car at the end of one of these dirt roads where it intersects with the paved road. Picture a "T" – the right branch of the T is the dirt road where I was parked, and the other two branches are the same paved road – so it basically does a 90 degree left turn.

As I was getting my bike ready, I saw this car come screaming toward the left turn and slam on the brakes as she reached the center of the T. I thought he (turns out it was a she, I later found out) had meant to turn right onto the gravel road, but instead she backed up and continued to the left. About 20-30 seconds later I heard a loud "bang," as if the car had bottomed out or something. I honestly thought nothing of it – "Hmm, maybe the car crashed!" flashed through my mind, but only for a millisecond, then I dismissed the idea.

Anyway, a minute or so later I'm pedaling down the road where the white car had gone, and I saw it up ahead pulled over to the right side, in front of a tree. This sounds stupid, but as I neared it, I thought, "Well, he probably had to go pee, saw me and didn't want to go  in the field while I was standing there, so looks like he found a place!" Seriously, that's what ran through my head. I have no idea why, considering the field on the left had a barbed wire fence, but that's the logical conclusion I had.

As I passed the car, going maybe 10 mph, I looked to see if the person was still inside (you know, to validate my pee theory) and didn't see anyone. Then I did a double take: the airbags had gone off. As I hit the brakes I saw someone in the driver's seat slumped over to the passenger side. Fuuuuccckkk.

I scrambled over to the side of the road, grabbed my phone, and called 911. Voice shaking, I told the operator that I was on my bike and "found" a car accident, and I was fine but the person in the car was not. As I walked back to the car I got a better look at the scene and saw the hood was crumpled and the windshield was cracked – she had obviously hit the tree. As I waited for the operator to transfer me to the sheriff's office, I walked closer to the driver's side and was relieved to see that the woman driving was alive – out for the count, but alive – and no blood.

While I was on the phone, a couple in their car was driving past, and I flagged them down. As I hung up, I immediately told them, "I'm fine, she didn't hit me!" (Something I had to repeat ad nauseam for the next 90 minutes). They turned out to not be of much help – I was really hoping for a medical professional ;) – so I went over and started talking to the driver. She was kind of in and out of consciousness and then started to panic a bit, so I told her the only thing I knew: "Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth." Then I asked her if she had any kids, and what their names were, etc... basically kept her talking and focused on something other than the fact she was in a car crash.

As I talked to her, I noticed her pupils were tiny pinpricks. The last time I fainted, the nurses told me they knew I was about to go because my pupils had blown out (sign of shock/dropped blood pressure), so I thought that was strange. Combined with the fact I had just seen her driving erratically less than five minutes before, I suspected she was on something.

About 2 minutes later, another person pulls up and gets out, fortunately wearing a volunteer EMT shirt – he lived nearby and heard the call on the scanner. I happily stepped away to let him do his job and waited for the paramedics to arrive. (And two fire trucks, and after what seemed like half an hour, the police.)

Once they had everything under control (she was actually standing up when they finally got her out of the car, so no broken bones or immediate damage), I was approached by a few LE people and asked to describe what happened. Meanwhile, a backup of about seven cars/gawkers had formed – why they just didn't turn around and use an alternative route is beyond me, because this road was a very small secondary road that you can access on another end – and once again, I had to explain that I actually came across the scene, was not involved in the crash, and she did not hit the tree to avoid me.

Finally, about an hour and half later, they carted her off, I wrote down a final statement for the cops, and was allowed to leave/continue on my bike ride, since I had only gone 2/10ths of a mile.

So that's my 911 story. It's funny, I've never had to call 911 before, and prior to that day I always thought it would be one of those things where I questioned my judgment later, such as, "Gee, that guy looks like an axe murderer, but he might not be... should I call?"  Definitely, definitely not the case... this was "Holy shit, I need to call 911 right NOW."

Oh, and I later found out from the deputy that it was a DUI/drug related accident. Out of curiosity, I searched the sheriff's website and the local papers to see if it had been recorded publicly, but nothing's come up. I'm guessing this is a good thing?

Headache, you can be such a headache, yeah

I really wish I had a good excuse for not blogging, but other than turning 30 (geeeezzzus) last month and getting bitch slapped with a ton of work ("Hey, do you know how to do this? No? Okay, do it anyway."), I don't. And I haven't even logged in to read everyone's blogs, so I feel extra guilty.

Yesterday I had a monster headache that just would NOT go away. I get headaches relatively frequently (at least once a week), although the frequency lessened a bit when my mom treated me to my first treatment of Dysport in December... The effect was amazing, yet horrifying – I couldn't frown AT ALL – and I think the headaches resulting from tension disappeared. But the sinus headaches, like the one that jumped on me yesterday and pinned me to the couch, have not. And considering the serious amount of rain/humidity we've had in the past few days, I'm not surprised – that seems to be my trigger. That, and being hungover.

I took 400 mg of ibuprofen when I got home, which did nothing. Then another 400 mg about an hour later after I ate something, which sort of helped, but I could still feel the headache's tentacles on the edge of my brain: "Just you wait, girlie... I'm still here!" Finally resorted to doing a sinus rinse and took Tylenol before bed along with a Benadryl just in case.

Fortunately, I woke up and the headache was gone... but now it's slowly starting to creep its way back in. Doesn't help that I just dug out an emergency tampon from my bag, either. Don't you all being (since everyone who reads this blog is) female?!

That being said, I said I would see a neurologist to try and get some stronger meds for when the ibuprofen/Tylenol combo isn't enough, and I still haven't. My sister gave me two of her Fioricet to try when she visited last year, and that stuff worked like magic, so I'm hoping that's all I need.

Anyway. I have more to share, hopefully tomorrow... this past weekend was VERY interesting, as I had to make a 911 call for someone. And I'm cat-sitting for my neighbors upstairs starting Thursday... the male cat is kind of creepy smart, so I may have some interesting stories about him.



Post title song reference: "Headache" by Weezer

Please don't break

Egads, no new posts in almost a month! Granted nothing super exciting has happened in the meantime (nothing ever does), but I feel somewhat obligated to write out some words.

I feel like everything I own is breaking down. Last month, my less-than-6 months-old iron broke. This was the replacement for an iron that was working perfectly well until the cord decided to fray inside and break. Now, this one turns on but doesn't heat up. Stupid piece of Black & Decker junk. Unfortunately I couldn't return it to Target since it was past the 90-day policy, so I had to buy a new one (hopefully a temporary one I can return) and contact B&D for repair/replacement. They haven't stated whether I have to pay for return shipping, but I sure hope not, because I'm relatively sure to ship a 34-pound iron is going to cost more than I bought it for.

Not long after my iron broke, I got a parking ticket for having an expired state inspection. Where I live, parking enforcement is allowed to ticket for expired plates/registrations/etc., so I was kicking myself for not paying attention to the fact my sticker expired on March 31st. I took the car in to be inspected only to be told it needed a new serpentine belt in order to pass. Rather than pay $$$ for the chain auto repair store to replace the belt, I told them to put the Fail sticker on so I could take it to another shop. (The Fail sticker means you get an additional 15 days to get the car fixed.) I bring the car home, park it in the street, and lo and behold, get ANOTHER "No/Expired State Inspection" ticket from the same person two days later. Better yet, they stuck a sticker on my window stating the car appears to have been "abandoned" because it hadn't been moved in the past four days and they would tow it.

I was livid. Given that the Fail sticker was in plain view and the original [expired] sticker was gone, it was obvious the parking enforcement officer didn't understand that the only way I could have gotten a Fail sticker was to have it inspected. Durh. Additionally, the car parked in front of mine had been parked there for at least a month without having been moved, yet there I've yet to see an abandoned vehicle sticker on that one. What the hell.

I guess I'm in a crappy mood because I'm turning 30 in less than a week and it's still stupidly chilly here. I swear the weatherman sounds gleeful when he exclaims, "Beautiful day, but temperatures are still ten degrees below average!" Thank you, Mr. Slick Hair, for informing us of the obvious. I want to wear shorts. I want to wear a sundress. I don't, however, want to wear sweaters anymore!

On the bright side, I think all this coldass, crappy weather will make me appreciate it more when (if?) it finally warms up.  :)





Post title song reference: "Real World" - Matchbox Twenty

Reason #254 why AT&T sucks

I'm really starting to think I've hit a lick of smartphone bad luck. It started with my HTC's screen crapping out, then buying a new Sony Xperia only to decide that it was too small, repairing the old HTC to hold me over, buying the larger version of the Xperia only to discover I couldn't remove the SIM lock, then the HTC screen crapped out AGAIN, so I was back to my Nokia until I could find a SIM unlocked Xperia. Then everything is peachy-cool, I love my new phone (it has PURPLE lettering on the keyboard. How cool is that?!), its software is behaving and seems to be pretty sturdy.

I don't have a data plan and don't really want one – I'm glued to a computer 8 hours a day, and being unplugged from the internet forces me to actually interact with the world, so I have the mobile data switched off. It works pretty well, unless someone send me an MMS. Until they figure out how to allow us to download MMSes via wifi, I'm stuck with having to turn HSPDA/EDGE on, download the message/picture, then shut it back off.

Yesterday one of my coaches sent me someone's number in .vcf format... teeny tiny little message, all of 1 KB of data. I did my usual on/download/off routine, got the contact info, and went on my merry way.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to find a text message from AT&T:

"Did you know a data plan is required for your Smartphone? We have added an appropriate data plan. Learn more at blahblahblah..."

Whaaaaa?! That's absurd! I've had a smartphone for over three years on this non-data, voice/text only plan and have never had this kind of message appear.

Well, apparently AT&T is really effing sneaky. Their policy is that any smartphone must have a data plan, regardless of where you bought it from. I assume they've been enforcing the policy by slapping data plans on people who buy phones directly from AT&T. Since all my phones have been bought from a third party and are carrier-unlocked, AT&T has no idea what phone I'm using since I haven't upgraded through them for 4+ years.

I was ready to call them and unleash some mild-mannered fury: "I've been a customer for more than ten years, this particular family plan was signed back in 2004 when there was no such thing as a mobile data agreement, so how is this possible?! Turn it off, or I'm having my dad switch to another carrier!"

When I called, I was ready to get angry, until the person on the other end sounded REALLY nice. I couldn't pull it off. Rather than give her a hard time, I fibbed. (As I've said before, I hate lying and suck at it, but I also suck at being a hardass.) I said that I had a Nokia (the last phone they provided to me), but yesterday I had put my SIM card temporarily in a friend's unlocked T-Mobile phone* to test it. Then this morning I got that message, and could she please remove the new data plan that was added?

*This wasn't a total lie – I had put my SIM card in a T-Mobile phone (my aforementioned HTC that broke), but it's now in an unlocked Xperia, not a Nokia.

Fortunately, she was very kind and removed the plan from my family account.  I'm sure my dad would have been THRILLED to find out that AT&T did this without his permission, because he's the curmudgeony type that hates these types of shady-yet-legal practices.

I thanked her and hung up, happy that I was able to dodge the data plan bullet. Unfortunately, this also means that I'm going to be screwed when MMSes arrive. The only workaround I can think of is putting my work phone's SIM card in my phone (since work has unlimited data/text/whatever) if it's imperative. Until then, I guess I have to be the asshole that replies back, "Can you send me that via text? I can't read it."

Oh, and thanks, cellular phone service providers, for not asking customers' permission to do things like this. I'm pretty sure that'd fly over *real* well in other businesses: "Here's a piece of cake. You don't want it? Oh, too bad... you're going to have to pay for it anyway." Jerks.

And I go at sleepy time

Yeesh. Long time, no blog!

I've actually been really busy at work (which is when I usually write my blog posts, in between spurts of productivity), so I haven't had a chance to read anyone's posts. Hoping everyone is healthy and sane. :) 

Additionally, my unnamed sport/hobby that takes-up-most-of-my-time is back in full swing, so I'm leaving the house at 8:30 AM (really should be more like 8) and not returning before 8 PM. When I get home, I am so exhausted by the day that I barely have enough energy to eat some dinner, shower, and then zone out for a bit in front of the TV before dragging myself to bed.

Speaking of bed, I got a new mattress! A few weeks ago, I woke up one Sunday to major back pain and thought, "This is it. I cannot STAND to sleep on this mattress anymore. I don't sleep well, I'm always tired, and I'm getting much too old for this." I made a trip to a couple mattress stores, hated the whole used-car mentality of it (and the prices were absurdly high), and then decided to go to Sears. They were having a 50% off sale, which I'm guessing is permanent because no one wants to pay $1000 for a mattress. After about an hour of rotating between mattresses, I found one and bought it. And additional 10% off and no boxspring needed meant it was even cheaper than I thought. Yayyyyy!

I had it delivered to my house last Saturday, and schlepped it into my bedroom. It didn't dawn on me how gigantically thick the mattress  until I threw (well, dragged) it on top of my beloved IKEA plaform bedframe. The thing is fucking enormous. I have to use the f-word there to describe how large it is, because it was so tall that it actually blocked my headboard. (Granted, the headboard isn't super high to begin with, but still.)  My reaction: "Erkk!"

I measured the thickness of the mattress, and it's a whopping 15" thick since it also has a pillowtop. The old mattress was about 7 ½ inches thick. Big difference there.

Thankfully, I remembered that this particular IKEA bedframe is adjustable. You can adjust the sides to be higher or lower, as well as the rails that hold the wooden slats up. The slats were on the highest position since my very first mattress with this bed was one of those 4" high foam things. I tried to remove the pegs that allow for the sides to be lowered, only to find the previous owner had glued the pegs in. Oh well.

After reassembling my bed, I put the slats back on and tried again. MUCH better. Still higher than the old mattress, but at least this time I didn't need a ladder to get into bed and could actually see my headboard. However, it makes the bed a bitch to put sheets on, because it's nearly impossible to lift the edge of the mattress.

As for sleeping, I'm still in the adjustment period. At first I was afraid it was too hard – the one in the store was firm but the pillowtop was cushy – but I did some reading and apparently the materials need to settle and break in... which makes sense, since the store one has probably been  laid upon hundreds of times.

So far, no back pain, and I think I'm sleeping more soundly. But I've also made an effort NOT to sleep on my stomach, which I'm 90% certain is the cause of it. I tend to take up in the early morning and roll over on my stomach, which feels comfortable at the time, but then I wake up feeling like a 6 year old has been sitting on my back for two hours.

That's about it for now... I did go a date with the friend of a friend, but that'll have to wait until next time!




Post title song reference: "Cornflake Girl" - Tori Amos

If only it were this simple...

This is exactly what Bluemoon and I need:

Bend me, break me, breaking down is easy

I'm alive, I promise!

I went to Mexico last week for vacation, and it was wonnnnnderful. It was nice to leave the 40 degree freezingness and experience warm sunshine for a good five days. The only thing that would have made it perfect is less wind and higher temperatures, but I can't complain.

When I landed in the States on Wednesday, I eagerly turned on my phone to see if I had any texts or voicemails waiting. Turns out NO ONE attempted to contact me. I only told a few people about my trip, but at the same time, it would have been nice to have someone miss me! Feeling cranky, I posted the depressing experience to Twitter. To my surprise, D texts me: "Welcome back to the U.S., Lis!"

What. The. Fuck.

You ignore me for approximately four months, I decide to cut you from my life (in fact, I wasn't sure who it was at first because the text wasn't from one of my contacts, then I recognized the area code), and you have the nerve to text me NOW? I curtly responded to him: "Ha, that was fast." D proceeded to ask me a couple of pleasantries, I replied with the same degree of terseness, and that was it.

Well, dumbass me, I didn't delete the thread from my phone. Flash forward to Saturday night/Sunday morning. I got on the subway and realized that this was the stop where I ended my first "date" with him awhile back. I stewed about it, and my stupid tired buzzed brain says, "Hey, we can't lose now. Let's text D back and tell him how you really feel!"

Oh yeah. I *am* that stupid.

Actually, it wasn't too bad. I basically texted him one line, saying "Normally I'd never do this, but it's 2 AM, I'm a little drunk, and I'm mad at you." I also referenced the subway stop, but let's face it: he's a dude and never remember something like that.

I'm guessing he was an insomniac or hanging out in another time zone (aka with Jailbait), because he texted back, "Good -- you need to kick back once in awhile. I'm sorry. Be careful."

Me: "Really?? I am, always. I think."

Actually, sober me begs to differ on the last part (about being careful). Drunk texting someone you've been doing so well at getting over is not in the recovery plan! Arrrgh!

Fortunately, he didn't text back after that, and I deleted the thread, so his number is no more. But I'm still kicking myself just a little bit for breaking my resolve to stop talking to him. And I won't stop being angry with him until he grows the eff up and stops behaving like an irresponsible man child, squandering his life away. In the meantime, he's abandoned the website I poured so many hours into and broken a thousand promises along the way. I highly doubt that's going to change anytime soon.

On the bright side, my friend set me up with one of her friends, who's a lawyer. If he's taller than me, we're already off to a good start.





Post title song reference: "I Think I'm Paranoid" - Garbage

Phone frustration

GAH! I am so, so, SO frustrated with this whole cell phone problem. My Android died last month, so after several weeks of research, trials (meaning I bought a phone off eBay, hated it, and resold it -- yay eBay), bandaging my current phone, I finally received the phone I loved last week.

Only problem: the phone is locked to a Canadian cell phone company (Fido), so it won't work when I put my SIM card in. Normally that's not an issue -- you can purchase an unlock code online for less than 10 USD -- but it's a problem when said unlock code doesn't work, which is what happened to me. (I got my money refunded.)

So, apparently the only way to get the phone unlocked is to call the cell phone company and beg for them to unlock it for you for a fee. However, there are all sorts of caveats, such as -- you have to be a current customer, the phone must be off contract or originally purchased at full price, etc. Being of the optimistic desperate sort, I called Fido. The guy who answered was very nice and said, "Well, since you're not a current customer, we can't do anything for you. But there is a trick -- I'm not supposed to tell you this -- but you can register as a customer for free and then say you already have a phone that needs to be unlocked, and they will unlock it for you. I can transfer you now."

SUHHWEEET.

Well, turns out I can't exactly do that. The next guy asked me for my SIM card number, and I said, "Uhh... I actually have an AT&T card at the moment." He said, "Nope, you have to have a prepaid SIM card, which you can buy in a store in Canada, or else I can't get you an account."

But... but... the nice guy told me I could just register... ahh damn. Noooooooooo...

So now I'm at a crossroads. I suppose I could purchase a SIM card online, use that to register myself with Fido, and then go from there... but at this point I'm ready to start banging my head against the wall, especially when my current phone is literally falling apart at the seams and I have this new, beautiful shiny phone I can't do anything with. :(

I'll take you frame by frame it

Recently I had a somewhat awkward experience with trying to get a print framed for my bedroom. There's this semi-large, ugly, fuse box on the wall next to my bed, and it's a bit of an eyesore. (Why they couldn't just put it in the closet is beyond me.) Me, being of the thrifty sort, measured it and found this frame from IKEA would cover it nicely top-to-bottom, and still have enough room on the sides so that I could still attach it to the drywall. Better yet, it has plexiglass instead of glass, and for clumsy me (who routinely drops/breaks things), it was perfect.

Once I found the frame, I had to find the print. The not-so-nice thing about large IKEA frames is that they're measured metrically and don't jive with the good ol' Imperial system. This one was a balanced 60x80cm, which translates to 23 ½ and 31 1/2 inches.  (Actually, I think it was even worse than that – like 23 2/5ths, but the IKEA site is deceiving.)  The good news is that I found a print I liked that I could mat it so it'd fill out the frame. My mom does matting all the time – "It's not rocket science," she says, and supposedly local art stores usually cut down mats for people.

Nope. Apparently NOT down here in my city. I called at least 4 different stores, and no one just cuts mats. Michaels tricked me and said they cut mats, but when I went there, the guy behind the counter said, "Sure, we cut them... but only the outside. It'll cost $80 cut a window on the inside." WTF!

Finally I found a store that's actually a kind of a do-it-yourself shop, where they'll show you how to cut your own mat and mount it to a frame. However, first and foremost, they're a custom frame shop, which is obviously how they make their money. So I show up in the evening, expecting they'll help me cut down a mat in 20 minutes and I'd be on my merry way. Nope. Long story short, the lady behind the counter would cut the mat for me the next day, and the next evening I'd come back to mount it there in the shop. All this for only $38.

This is where it gets embarrassing. I was kind of hoping I could just take the mat home and do it all myself so I didn't have to come back and have them show me basically how to use scotch tape. But since the service included a "how to," I had to do it all in front of them with this cheap ass IKEA picture frame. And, like anything from IKEA, it requires some sort of assembly. We had to wrestle with the frame to get everything all snugged up and in place, and it because glaringly obvious that bringing a $20 frame to a custom frame-making place is like bringing Two Buck Chuck to a cocktail-attire champagne & cheese party.

Anyway, we finally get everything settled in, and I do my best to book it out of there once it's wrapped up. As I thanked them and went out the door, the woman calls out, "Pleasure doing business! Next time we'll have to make you a frame." As if I weren't embarrassed enough that I brought a particleboard and plastic picture frame to this shop, I get a guilt trip as I'm leaving. Gee, thanks guys.

Next time I'm just going to buy a mat cutter and try to do the damn thing myself. ;)





Post title song reference: "O.P.P" - Naughty by Nature

Take the "B" train

So, how's this for complete randomness?

Last Thursday, I was late getting to work as usual. I was waiting on the subway platform and saw a cute guy standing nearby. [For those of you who know where I live, I would never call it the "subway" in real life. But for anonymity's sake, it's the subway. :P]  The first train that showed up was packed to the gills. Normally I would have just jumped on and dealt with it since I was running late, but there was another train about a minute away, so I waited. Sadly, cute guy did not and squished himself onto this train. I was sad. :(

Turns out this was actually in my favor. I jump on the next train, which was blissfully empty, and get off at my stop for work. I start walking to the other side of the platform's stairs to avoid the crush of people disembarking. To my amazement, Facebook guy is RIGHT THERE, waiting for the opposite train. Whaaaaa!

(Okay. Facebook guy is officially "Josh," because "FB guy" could be misconstrued as Fuck Buddy Guy or Ferret Boy Guy or something.)

Yeah. Very random. He stopped and recognized me, so we had a 30 second conversation, because his train was pulling up and he was leaving for the airport. Anyway, as he was getting on the train, he said, "We have to ride together soon," or something to that effect.

Gerhh. That means I have to actually start riding my bike so I don't die on a simple 25 mile ride – that is, if he follows up. I'm also the world's slowest uphill biker, even when I'm in shape, because my knees are shot and I ride with a triple chainring (meaning, itty bitty front gear so my poor knees don't explode). That triple is the reason I have a "no two person bike rides" policy – because most guy road bikers are total spokejocks/triathletes-in-training who treat every ride as if it's a competition, and also have no road manners (aka, not staying on the shoulder, etc.). 

On the flip side, guys who bicycle recreationally on hybrid/mountain bikes are scared by my road bike, because I usually go faster/farther than they do, even when I'm riding at my normal, slowish pace. Sounds dumb, but it's happened. So, as silly as it sounds, my policy has some merit. ;)  The only person who's an exception to the rule is my dad, and that's only because he's 30+ years older than me and I'm able to keep up with him.

Anyway, it's funny to think that skipping the first train and missing out on the cute guy from my station (who I probably wouldn't have even talked to... or better yet, is married) would time perfectly when I walked off the second train. AND I was wearing my hair down, so I didn't look like my normal, disheveled self with a lopsided ponytail! Strange how these things happen.






Post title song reference: "Take the 'A' Train" - Billy Strayhorn/Duke Ellington orchestra

I hope ya don't mind, let me clear my throat

So, the Valentine's party was interesting, to say the least. First off, the open bar was a complete shitshow. I literally stood at the front for 25 minutes before I got my drinks. It was like I was in this black hole of the bar, because the people on both sides of me couldn't get the bartenders' attention, either. I think the problem was that the open bar was a true open bar – for example, you could get a specialty martini with your drink tickets, which meant they were busy making drinks rather than just pouring standard rail drinks and beer.

Secondly, it was at a bar that hosts a bocce league, so the poor bocce ball teams were trying to just get their pitchers of beer in between event folks ordering ridiculously complicated drinks. I was standing next to a really cute bocce ball player for most of my wait time, and unfortunately couldn't even start a conversation, because it would have meant taking eye contact away from the oblivious bartenders. He ended up walking away after 20 minutes, saying, "Sorry... hopefully I'll see you later!" Unfortunately he disappeared by the end of the night. Sad face.

Thirdly, there were more women than men, which doesn't entirely surprise me, but it tended to make other girls unfriendly. I think I got the hairy eyeball from several girls simply for saying, "Excuse me," to walk past their conversation partners. Also, I think the problem with these branded "singles" events is that everyone knows everyone else is available, and therefore everyone has an agenda. That, combined with the male-to-female ratio, meant it was in favor of the dudes, most of whom just wanted to get some booty.

And finally, my #%^@ cold/post-nasal-drip induced cough came roaring back by the end of the night. I had nearly kicked the thing by using a nasal decongestant spray the night before – I made it through Wednesday night without waking up coughing, which was a welcome relief. However, I didn't do the spray before I left the house Thursday, and one tickle-y cough turned into a couple more, and before you know it, I was coughing literally every 30 seconds. It was not attractive.

I guess on paper it looks like the party was a bust, but it actually has me interested in joining a bocce league. Granted, I don't have the slightest clue on how to play bocce, but it doesn't look super hardcore. (Unlike last year's kickball league, which had this one asshole team that played it as a serious competitive sport and ruined it for everyone.)

As far as my cough? Much better after a weekend off, but at this point it's just an annoying post-nasal drip cough -- the cold seems to have finally left my body. Finally!






Post title song reference: "Let Me Clear My Throat" - DJ Kool

Another tragic case

Arrrgghh.

Remember Blake from Christmas? Well, he's engaged to the mean girlfriend.

I mean, it's not a huge shock, but at the same time, I get the feeling like he did it in an effort to fix his problems. Sorry dude, but getting married is not going to fix the fact that you hate your job, you hate the city you live in (and she still won't consider relocating so he can get a better job), and you have very few friends as a result of moving across the country to be with said girl who wasn't that into you from the get-go.  Also, from the stories I've heard, she's manipulative, greedy, and controlling, and I have a feeling the ensuing Bridezilla is going to be of massive proportions. Poor guy... I really don't think he *really* knows what he's getting himself into.

The other thing that's bothering me is that there's something very unbalanced about all of it. I think nearly all of my FB friends changed their profile photos of themselves with their fiancés (that, or their ring) within a day of being proposed to – and for good reason! You're getting married, you should be sweet and cheesy and romantic about it on FB (much to us grumpy singletons' chagrin). Yet her photo is still of her and her friend in a "biyatch, I'm fabulous" pose.

Then, there's the tweeted Instagram pic of her perfectly manicured left hand (good timing?) with the hashtags "#diamonds #love." I can also thank Twitter for her tweeting, "Finally!" with the announcement. I guess we know what her priorities are... diamonds and a wedding. [Insert McKayla Maroney "Not Impressed" meme here.]

I'm not going to hide the fact that I'm disappointed that I missed out. But at the same time, it sucks just a bit more because she's just not a nice person, and I think I'm generally a nice person. So where's my prince? ;-)

Anyway, I'm headed to an "Anti-Valentine's Day" singles party on Thursday. I actually like Valentine's Day, even though I'm always single on it, because I lurrvve chocolate, and I used to make all my friends little bags of candy and cards every year. Now all my friends are in relationships or married, so I'm going to get off my butt and go have some fun. And then maybe buy some candy at CVS on the way home. ;)





Post title song reference: "Head on Collision" - New Found Glory

I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down

After last weekend's incredibly bad decision, I am more than content to stay in and veg out on the couch for the next two nights. It's probably a good thing, since I am currently battling some sort of cold/bronchitis brought on by -- get this -- accidentally inhaling a chunk of salsa on Monday. Somehow it managed to bring on a spat of coughing that wouldn't quit, which somehow formed into a cold/bronchitis.

Under orders from my medical genius sister, I went to the doctor and came home with an Advair inhaler and prescription for Albuterol to prevent this thing from evolving into chronic asthmatic bronchitis, which is precisely what happened to me several years ago... not fun.

Anyway, I'm sitting here watching Tron: Legacy on TV, which is actually fascinating to me as I've never seen the original one. And as a computer nerd, I'm catching all these funny computer references in the movie -- such as, the program opponents in the game arena had names like "Cray" (a 1970s supercomputer), the Unix commands Sam (who is DAMN HOT!) types into the basement computer, and Rinzler/Tron makes this funny clicking noise that's supposed to indicate his corrupted data -- much like how a hard drive starts to clunk/click when it fails. Also, as a former orchestra dork, the score is pretty damn good with Daft Punk added.

Annnnd that's about it. Not much else to report. Anyone watch The Americans?




Post title song reference: "Cough Syrup" - Young the Giant

My head feels like I musta' had some fun

Ever have such a bad hangover that you literally spent the entire day in some sort of horizontal position?

Yeah, that was me yesterday. I haven't had one of these horrifically bad mornings-after in a long time, and it sucked.

One of my friends and I went to this fancy black-tie fundraiser party on Saturday night. I've been to this event in years past, so I was excited to go again because they have a great band, open bar, and MINI CUPCAKES. NOMMM. However, I made the huge, huge mistake of drinking too much, too fast (damn you, open bar), because I wasn't feeling the effects right away. I think I had at least four or five mixed drinks (oof), and even worse, I took a shot at the after-party. (Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.) So, by the time I stumbled home, it was 3 AM, and I was so obnoxiously drunk that I went to bed still wearing my long coat and scarf. That's embarrassing. Normally I at least have the coherence to change clothes and take the clean unfolded laundry off my bed.

Needless to say, Sunday was awful. The sinus headache, the nausea, the shakiness just about killed me. I feel like someone ran over me with a truck, backed up, and then ran me over three more times just to make sure I was sufficiently dead. I didn't have any Gatorade (that's usually what helps the most), and I was too nauseous to eat, so I couldn't take any ibuprofen for the headache.

I finally felt about 75% by 11 PM. Unfortunately, I wasn't very tired (thanks to sleeping on and off all day), so I didn't fall asleep until around 2, and today I'm still feeling tired and a little headache-y.

So! Lesson learned, hopefully for the last time. If you don't feel buzzed after a couple of drinks, don't keep drinking. Slow the fuck down when doing open bar, unless you want to waste a full 24 hours of a weekend day recovering. The 'fun' isn't worth it. Gahhh.




Post title song reference: "What Happened?" - Sublime

No matter who calls, I gotta screen my phone calls

Welp, I did it. I finally managed to fuck up my phone.

It started acting funny two nights ago -- none of the hard press buttons on the front (like "home" and "back" -- essential for navigating an Android) worked, but the slide keyboard was working. I was able to hobble around that way until last night, until the touchscreen stopped working. Okay, I thought. It's one of two things: hardware or software.

I'm about to get really nerdy here. I flashed my phone and reinstalled the ROM (basically wiped the internal memory and reinstalled the OS, in PC terms). That didn't work, so I knew it was hardware-related.

I've already had to disassemble and reassemble this phone at least five times in the six months I've owned it. 1) Replace the flex ribbon cable that connects the keyboard and other buttons to the phone, as it was worn out and every time I'd open the phone's keyboard, the screen would get all weird. 2) Took apart to let dry after I spilled soda all over it. 3) Replace the volume cable when I accidentally snapped it doing #2. 4) Replace the volume cable AGAIN after I snapped the replacement volume cable trying to put it back in. 5) Last night to see what the hell was going wrong.

Anyway, I found out the issue. Somehow the same flex ribbon cable that I replaced barely four months ago managed to tear on the side -- I'm guessing it got misaligned somehow and opening/closing the keyboard wore down the side. ARRRGGGHHH. As a last resort, I put the old flex cable back on (I'd rather have the touchscreen work than just the keyboard) to see if that fixed the issue. It didn't. In fact, the screen wouldn't even turn on.

I seriously considered doing this:

The good news is that I backed up everything yesterday when my hard press keys stopped working, because I knew it might try to self destruct. The bad news is that my new phone won't be here for another couple of days, so I'm back to using my old Nokia that no longer reads the SD card... which means no updated address book, no GPS, no Twitter client, no Solitaire games to play on the bus. #firstworldproblems, ha.

As much as it sucks to spend another $100+ on a new phone, I'm kind of glad to get rid of it. It's had a host of other problems that have required repair, and I think there are only so many times a cell phone can be taken apart before it says, "Dude. No more." (Especially when 5 of those times have been by a clumsy novice like me.)

Moral of the story: don't casually play surgeon on a piece of electronic equipment. :)




Post title song reference: "Spiderwebs" - No Doubt

Growing pains

I'm not sure if this is a sign of aging, or me just being klutzy and forgetful, but I've been randomly finding aches/pain that's cropped out of nowhere. For example, I was getting ready for my walk last night, and I realized my upper arm hurt... like someone had punched me yesterday and I was only just feeling it. It's slightly better today, but I'm wondering what could have caused it.

Today I woke up and noticed my chin had a swollen spot on it, maybe the size of a dime. I've been anxiously applying benzoyl peroxide to it in the event it's a major cyst brewing up to spoil my weekend, because underneath it feels like one. Either that, or I bumped my chin on something and haven't figured out what. (That's happened before... I've hit my forehead on something, found a bump the next day, and immediately applied topical medication to it before I realized it was the aftermath of whacking my head.)

I have noticed that the way I sleep is probably not the best for preventing said aches and pains. Lately I've found myself curling up my hands and arms in weird positions, possibly to keep them warm (bad circulation?), and then I manage to pretzel myself to try and get comfortable. If that's not a sign that I need a new mattress, I don't know what is... but mattresses are mad expensive! Like hundreds of dollars! And apparently you have to haggle with the showroom guys to try and get a good deal. Of all the family traits I inherited from my parents, I didn't get the haggling ability from my father. I did get the cheapness gene from him, though. ;)

Anyway. Back to nervously checking my chin for any signs of possible zit formations...

Cleanup/ass covering

Okay, since Blogger doesn't allow us to change the privacy of individual posts, I'm going to revert those two posts about my [admittedly stupid actions] back to draft. The likelihood of someone linking this blog to my real life persona is low, but in the event it does happen, I'd have a lot of explaining to do to any future employers. ;)

Anyway, they'll stay as draft so I can keep the comments and remember that poor decisions do happen. And hopefully I haven't scared off any potential followers... although the three that I do have are pretty awesome!

I say my hell is the closet, I'm stuck inside

Yep, so no text. Oh well. Not super sad, but I'm not going to worry about it.

I feel bad about this, but I removed an anonymous comment from the last post. It pointed out what I already knew – what I did was wrong, in my eyes – but I think people need to know this before they pass any more judgment.

I grew up as the shyest kid around. I couldn't even talk to boys until high school, and when I finally did strike up a conversation with my crush, I was sweating so badly and hyperventilating that I nearly passed out. Being social has always been a struggle for me. I got rejected so many times in high school and college that it's downright pathetic. And consequently, I learned that putting yourself out on a limb makes you vulnerable, and it's much safer to hide up in the treehouse and hope the guy you like makes a move instead of you. (It never happens.)

Even now, I find myself "faking it until I make it" around guys, because I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, and I'm petrified that one of them might actually like me but I won't end up liking them back... and that I have to reject them. Stupid, isn't it?

So yeah, I was shady about it. But for once, at least I took some initiative. Instead of staying at home and feeling sorry for myself, I got off my ass. Even if I went to that bar on a whim, not knowing his event would be going on, it would have been sheer coincidence. I still believe I would have talked to him, because he's an attractive guy. Knowing the basics about him (hobbies, etc.) gave me the courage and confidence I know I have but can never manage to summon. (Usually the only time it comes out is when I've had multiple drinks, and even then it comes out all discombobulated and backwards. Not attractive.) And for two days straight I didn't think about D.

So yeah, he didn't text me. Whatever. But that night – having two great conversations with single guys and feeling confident and good about myself – was worth whatever  random people are going to think about me. Because I've had my heart broken scores of times and felt ashamed for not being desirable. For that one night, I felt okay.

Always moving on and on and on

Well, after my last two incredibly depressing blog posts (sorry guys), I'm feeling slightly better. Still, I hope karma will come deliver some form of payback to the girl who uninvited me to her birthday party in a pretty cowardly way.

Anyway, this week is strange because, like most people, I had Monday off, and Friday is telework days, so it's been almost like a three day work week. Although technically I didn't have Monday off by default, because my contracting firm sucks and we don't get all matching federal holidays. So all the non-standard holidays that my government counterparts automatically get off (Columbus Day, Veterans' Day, MLK Day, and Presidents' Day), we have to take the time off since we're not allowed in the office without a government worker present.

Which, for me, stinks because I really need to save up four days' of "floating holiday" (aka leave to use for those four "non-standard" holidays) time to supplement my limited vacation time of 13 days. (We also get 7 days' of sick leave per year that I rarely use, which stinks since we can't convert it to vacation or any sort of legal PTO.)

I always lament that I wish there was an easier way to transition from being a contractor to straight-workin'-for-the-gubment, because the benefits are significantly better. The pay may be lower, but the benefits make up for it in spades.

Rambling over. :)  I wanted to share this screenshot with you guys, because the randomest shit seems to happen to me on the interwebz:

I didn't realize using reCaptcha meant knowing Hebrew! (Unfortunately, I didn't think to click on the audio icon.)

Post title song reference: "New Way Home" - Foo Fighters

Uninvited

"But you, you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight..."

Ever have something bad happen to you, reel a little bit, insist you're okay, and then realize a day later that you're really not? That you're just fooling yourself? Yeah, that just happened to me.

A friend of mine (one that I know through another friend) had her birthday this weekend. She's one of these rare types that gets REALLY excited about her birthday, has a party every year, invites everyone, etc. I went to her party last year (the only one out of our group of mutual friends, might I add) and had a great time.

I received a Facebook invite to her party in December and RSVP'd "yes." She hadn't decided on a venue yet, but about 10 days before the event, she sent out an email to the event saying it was at this new bar. That was the last email I got, so I assumed that's where it was.

However, on Friday I logged onto Facebook to double check the time, and could not find the event anywhere. It was a private event, so I thought Facebook was being weird, so I clicked on the link in the email she had sent (which usually sends you straight to the page), and it kept redirecting to my events list. I then sent a quick text to her asking where/when it was, jokingly asking if I was still invited because I couldn't find it on Facebook anymore. No response.

I then tried to check her profile to make sure I had the weekend correct (since she was so excited her birthday was on the same day as her party), and her profile was basically empty. I was still friends with her, but obviously she had set me to limited profile, because I couldn't see anything whereas before I could see status updates, photos, etc.

I started to get this sinking feeling that I had been removed from the event. I then started feeling incredibly paranoid that I had done something wrong, that one of her other friends convinced her to uninvite me because I wasn't cool enough, etc. I quickly IMed another friend and asked her to check to see if my name was on the list. She checked, and it wasn't.

What. The. Hell.

Said friend mentioned that birthday girl was having trouble pinning down a bar, because the first venue (the one I knew about from the email) wanted too much money, blah blah blah. The next one wanted a limit on the number of people, and my other friend hypothesized that she had to "tighten up the list" a little bit.

Okay, makes sense. This was the point of where I thought, "Oh, I'm okay. She's not mad at me, she was obviously stressed and had to cull the invites, but was probably embarrassed and didn't want to directly tell me." Sure, I was a little irked that I had to find out this way -- because in reality, I would have showed up to venue #1 last night only to find no one there. But I was okay.

And I was okay last night, because I was exhausted from staying out until 2 AM Friday night (my way of coping for not having Saturday plans), and the thought of going out to a party made me want to curl up and fall asleep. But when I logged onto Facebook this eventing, and saw photos from other friends (the same ones who never came last year) having fun, I felt gutted. Honestly, who the fuck does that? I had RSVP'd. I had already said, "Yes, I am coming," and was looking forward to it. And yet she removed me from the event. It would have been one thing if I hadn't responded, but I HAD COMMITTED.

It's a good thing I'm not very close friends with her, because I would have been in tears. However, it doesn't make things hurt any less. Don't stay silent and hide behind a limited profile after uninviting someone to your party, because that's cowardly. I would have rather had her say, "I'm so sorry, things have changed and I have to leave some people off the list. Let's grab drinks later blah blah blah blah..."

I'm angry. I did text her an innocuous "Happy Birthday" last night, partially hoping it would make her feel guilty for what she did. Shit happens, I get it. But she made things worse by not being honest, and I'm not happy feeling left out like I was in elementary school.

It gets inside and it tears you up

I considered writing this blog last night when I was drunk on happy hour margaritas, but unfortunately Blogger hasn't made a mobile website yet. It's too bad, because I felt like I had some really profound things to say, but they disappeared once I fell asleep.

I did wake up with the same feeling of sadness from thinking about D. I don't understand how someone who I never even had has broken my heart so efficiently. It's not fair. Here I am: a smart, independent, financially secure, attractive young woman who has so much to offer, and instead he picked some girl 13 years younger than him who still lives off her parents and doesn't even go to college. The same chick who CHEATED ON HIM. The same girl who has no interest in changing her life for him, even though he's willing to uproot himself and move across the country to be with her. That is not how relationships are supposed to be. It's entirely one-sided: she's played him, broken his trust and heart, yet he still wants to be with her. It is Not. Fair.

I suppose it's good that he's gone MIA and doesn't return the one arbitrary text I sent him last week. I can go for days without thinking about D and feel okay, and then for a week straight I'll feel nothing but bitter and angry at her for being such a terrible person. It's not that I want him to break up with her to be with me, but so she gets hurt. I want Jailbait to feel what I felt when I was shot down last year by D, after months of grappling with my feelings, putting myself out there, and ultimately getting rejected.

It seems like it's always this way: the horrible girls get the guy (case in point: Blake), while the decent ones end up lost and alone. And as a result, it eats away at me and makes me ugly inside, which reflects outwardly.

I know the cure for something like this is finding a new guy. Yet I have absolutely no desire to get on OKCupid and go on dates. I can't sit here and feel sorry for myself when I'm not willing to get off my ass and make the effort to bury my feelings of animosity. I wish I had one of those neuralyzers from Men in Black that makes you forget things and puts you in a hypnotic state. I wish I could forget everything about D and be told to move on with my life.

I suppose that's progress: I wanted to change myself, rather than fantasizing about taking a neuralyzer and zapping D so he'd forget he ever met Jailbait. ;-)