I wore the corset last night to Marty and Loree's 3FParty (Formal/Fetish/Funereal). I am a dumbfuck for buying that instrument of torture. Oh, did it hurt. Not at first, but after about three hours, i could barely stand in it, so did it screw with my posture. So sit my butt down, right? Yeah, well, it's tough to sit in a full steel-boned corset. Doesn't exactly allow for bending at the waist, right? And then my internal organs started hurting. Man, it was a long night.
Other (and more nerve-wracking) happening that I've got time to talk about (we're running late for the Messy Party @ the Wet Spot): Boy bought our tickets for Florida. I'm officially freaked out. Meeting the family! Holy shit. Not to mention, cross-country non-stop flying on a plane.
Nerves? Ha! Never. (note to self: leave box-cutter and nail clippers at home.)
Gotta dash, time to roll in pudding.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 06:16 PM September 28, 2001
Just let her walk alone,
Just let her walk alone, on blindly through the rain
She likes to think she's turning wise
No one can tell her now; she crashes every time she flies.
Don't lay a hand on her, she can undress herself
Even when she's a 1000 miles away
Eyes steady and bloodless
Burning the torch at her own auto-da-fe.
Let her smile and cast you off, like a skin she's worn too long
The past only changes in her mind
She blazed like a candle
But she's gone, with the smoke, straight out of time.
"Holy sixth sense, you've got the power ofPREMONITION. Your answers show a keen sense of intuition and a natural feel for your surroundings. These powers give you an incredible talent for predicting the future. Maybe you answer the phone before it rings or feel a slight tingle seconds before your favorite TV show begins. Coincidence? Don't count on it. You tend to pick up on subtle cues in your environment that other people don't notice. The trick is to trust your gut. Go with your first choice. Follow your instincts and just do it! With a little bit of practice, perhaps you'll soon be able to consistently predict the future and, perhaps, even read minds. To begin your training, you should try to guess what the weather will be like tomorrow. If you get more serious about building your superpower, try taking a job at a psychic hotline or putting a few bets on your favorite team. Get good enough and there will be no stopping you! Stock market guru, world-class meteorologist, professional gambler — the sky's the limit!"
Jaysus. Every schmuck in Hollywood is in that Zoolander movie, did you know? Look! Winona Ryder, Jon Voight, Billy Zane, Natalie Portman, Vince Vaughn, Cuba Gooding Jr., Lenny Kravitz, AND myrockstarhusband David Bowie(!). Crazy. I thought those people had actual careers. Then there's the B-List: Andy Dick, Steve Kmetko and Jules Asner (of E! Entertainment Daily Bullshit fame), Fabio, and...Paris Hilton? Weird.
Your desire for meaning and substance is drawing you to a Drama. You're ready to set aside the petty cares of the day and face the challenge of an epic moment—tragic, historic, and poetic. Whether you choose a period piece set in Victorian England or a modern-day tragedy in Manhattan, tonight's pick needs to be something you can talk about afterwards with friends, family, and colleagues. The characters might be noble, troubled, or simply inspiring. Try some close-ups of courage, sadness, or joy with something like Schindler's List, Thelma and Louise, or Sense and Sensibility. Now, start that popcorn popping and dim the lights for your evening's entertainment."
Sorry, Babe--no Zoolander for us tonight, apparently. Emode has spoken.
Fucking Emode. Apparently I'm a "Practical Pump". Aren't these things supposed to keep you entertained? Hearing that made me want to shoot myself.
"Practical Pump
Skim latte and 20 minutes of that morning show: this sounds like how you might start your days if you're a Practical Pump. Maybe it's that you're the kind of person who looks put together—whether in jeans, an ultrahip suit, or a drop-dead dress. Or perhaps it's just that when you look good, you project a stronger sense of who you are. People take your ideas more seriously and think of you as a leader when it comes to everything from the boardroom to the barstool. You can be independent without being Gloria Steinem. Even in a chunky heel you can pull off a delicate spaghetti strap camisole with no problem. So straight-laced isn't necessarily your MO. You make that perfectly clear when you're feeling a little devilish. Whatever your take on looks and life, it's very clear that you never go out of style."
"Remember, the symmetrical style of relationship refers to a kind of equal partnership in which each partner is available to do any or all of the tasks of maintaining everyday life. The symmetrical style has the advantage of keeping life interesting -- you never know in advance who is going to do what. Each situation is a new opportunity. This style has the disadvantage of making life unpredictable -- every new challenge can involve a decision or debate about who is going to take the initiative."
Hmm. I could make a pointed remark about a conversation Boy and I sort-of had last night, but what would be the point? That 40% of Compatible Couple-ness must count for more than they think.
...
Now THIS is a quiz...and my score? I'm 95% Bombshell.
"Move Over Marilyn
(You scored 80-100 %)
Congratulations! You're a 100%, bonafied bombshell -- or close to it. Now, take a look at the correct answers to each of the 10 Bombshell Quiz questions to see what makes you such a star!"
I would have scored a perfect ten, but this stupid question snagged me...
"8. You have $500 to your name. How do you spend it?
All bombshells answer: B. Buy that little dress you've been eyeing and donate the rest to the Dian Fossey Gorilla Fund International. Not always the most practical woman on the block, the bombshell believes in her fantasies -- and if that means treating herself to a new dress, or putting her money where her heart is to personally save the world, then so be it. Of course, if you want to continue living in your home, you may want to pay your rent instead. But the lesson to take away here is that the bombshell honors her own desires."
Dammit! I was dumb and said I'd pay my rent. C'mon, I figured that I couldn't be a bombshell if I was homeless.
...
Oh good lord. The "Are You Over Your Ex" Test. C'mon, guess my score. No, forget it, here:
"You're Ready for Mr. Right (24-30 points)
Congratulations! You survived the breakup, but even better, you've picked yourself up and dusted off that post-relationship rubble. Maybe it took a while, but all that TLC that you've given yourself lately has finally paid off! From divvying up the stuff, to finding your place in the Newly Single's Scene, you've captured all the closure you need. Look out boys, here you come!"
You are fairly comfortable with your sexuality and aren't afraid to play up your sex appeal, but you know when to tone down the sexual dynamo act and let your partner see and appreciate your other wonderful qualities. Although being physically attractive to the man in your life is important to you, you also want him to value your intelligence, spirit, humor and so on. No doubt he does; what men find most appealing is a woman who believes in herself. Whether you're conscious of it or not, that confidence is evident both in and out of the bedroom -- in the way you move, speak, smile, dress and have sex; women who are confident and comfortable with their sexuality tend to have more satisfying sex lives. That said, don't be surprised if your sex life gets a little humdrum at times -- even the best sexual connections sometimes need a change. So don't be afraid to occasionally rent an erotic movie, wear sexy lingerie or play up your sexiness in the bedroom."
WHAT???!? Cripes. They're telling ME to wear sexy undies and rent pr0n? Of course, this is the quiz that had the following question:
"14. Your idea of kinky sex is:
a) Doing it on a weeknight
b) Doing it with the lights on
c) Tying your partner to the bedpost"
Dinner was had at our perennial favorite, the 5Spot, whereupon we were the sole het-couple in a big sausage party encompassing the back room--which isn't a bad thing in the least--but it sort of made having my sexy-shirtand showing my shimmery snoobs pointless. Oh well, Boy was appreciative. Very appreciative, heh.
Hottub was sat in as well--for a brief ten minutes, anyway, before Boy dragged me back to the bedroom to ravish my damp, glowing body.
How's that for talking like a trashy romance novel? heh.
So, nakedtime was had, but no naked webcam nonsense. Perhaps after I've folded all the laundry in the spare bedroom/office.
I can't think right now, I need a bagel.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:12 AM September 27, 2001
Feeling strangely introspective after a
Feeling strangely introspective after a day of good news and celebration-worthy happenings.
Also, have i mentioned that my hair is positively perfect today? I'm almost jealous of myself, heh. I should get up on time more often.
My shagtastic Boy is on his way right this very second to pick me up (remember, sharing a car? Ugh.), which would be lovely. I've had quite enough of work for today, and I'm ready for a good hour in the hottub. And some naked webcam fun. Oh yes. Naked webcam fun.
Okay, probably just an hour of hottub, and then collapsing into sleep. Sitting in that thing is like returning to the womb--always makes me want a nap.
C'mon, let's hear some applause: I just got promoted! It's a relatively small step, but it's a good one--a nice stepping stone. Give me another three months--things are heating up!
Dinner was not had, pictures of bottoms were not taken, but we were the victims of extenuating circumstances so I'll let it go. Boy's car died just as he got home--apparently it was either that he needs a new battery, or a new alternator. Good thing: These are both things my dad can do. He's going to go play with the wagon while we're at work today, which left us with....One. Car.
Now, we've managed this before--Boy didn't even own a car until...what, March? We survived my little gay truck, we survived the period between my little gay truck and my peppy Lexi where we ONLY had the wagon, and we'll survive this--but it's annoying. I'm a bit concerned for my dear Lexi, we've never been apart like this (Boy has her at his building, he dropped me off on the way to work)--I mean, sure, I leave her at the Park&Ride for days at a time, but that's different! *sniffle*
Time for my boring meeting. And later, my review! Ooh, so excited.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:29 AM September 26, 2001
Oh geez, I'm sorry. I've
Oh geez, I'm sorry. I've been trying to finish up stuff at work so I can leave early and (shh, don't tell) go home and clean the house for my Boy. And then I'm going to take his desparately cute bottom out to dinner. And the rest of him, too, because his butt is connected. It really is too cute for words, his bottom. I'll have to take a picture of it to show you.
See? I'm all better now! And I'm bursting with fruit flavor.
Apparently, as a weblogger/journaller, I am now required to write an entry about the autumnal changes, and seasons, and life going on and being in love with falling leaves or something to that extent.
Um, no thanks. I love fall as much as the next person (more so, to be truthful. Especially since I don't live with my mother and stepfather anymore. Fall with them meant raking leaves until my arms fell off. Seriously! You didn't know I'm a double amputee? I type with my toes. And that's not all, heheheh. God, I'm such a freak.), but I'm not in the mood to get all mushy and nostalgic over a bunch of wet leaves and some pumpkin pie.
At least not yet. I'm assuming that I'll hit that mushy spot closer to Thanksgiving. For now, it's ass-jokes and talking dirty.
Okay! Let's deal with this bullshit and get it over with, and get me back to my normal smart-arsed self. Enough wallowing in relationship-issues and early-autumn funk.
So, in order of importance, here's what was bothering me:
-First and foremost, our dirty fucking supposed-to-be-roommate is--you guessed it--not moving in. FIVE fucking days before the first of the month, whereupon $2100 is to be delivered to my loving father, who took the news surprisingly well. He was all supportive, which is a departure for him. In any event, I'm working on moving into the "hopelessly optimistic" phase, because this "bloody murderous rage" phase is a lot of work. We shall prevail.
-Relationship issues, of which I've spoken to some extent. I'm having problems with some settling-down nerves, feeling like life has taken on a tinge of routine, which is true, but is not the end of the world. It just means I have to work a little harder to make things exciting, right? That's what the books (Stable Relationships For Dummies) and magazines (Validation For Women Who Have Little Self-worth and Are Desparate To Find A Man And Dress With Mucho Skankiness.) say. (Just so you know: I generally avoid those kinds of magazines, but they were thrust upon me at the salon. I swear.) Anyway, I think I'm okay now. But if we stay home this Friday night and do nothing, I'm going to shoot myself. Just so you know.
-I want a dog. Bad.. Reeeeeeeal bad. A beagle. I want a beagle named Bagley, because then I can call it Bagel for short. Wouldn't that be so fucking cute you could puke? "Here, Bagel!" See? Too cute.
-My stomach has been kind of upset, for a few days now, but I think it's just nerves. And rilly rilly bad meal schedules. That will change, though.
-Last and least, poly issues, which used to be higher on the list. I think that in light of recent developments, I'll worry less about them. I know, it's vague, but what can I say? Lack of closure does not allow for much room to shed light. I can speculate and be catty and all manner of things that will send me to hell--but let's just say that I'm happier now.
So! Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's move on, shall we?
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:18 AM September 25, 2001
How does the korean deli
How does the korean deli downstairs manage to make everything taste like moldering iceberg lettuce?
I have my three-month review coming up this week, and I'm rather excited about it. I'm fairly sure I'll be getting a raise, which will be nice, and it'll be nice to sit in a room with my various supervisory-types and have them tell me what I great job I do and how glad they are that I'm a part of the family.
Sometimes I almost feel bad for loving my job (or at least the company) so much--it seems like so many people hate their jobs, and the people they work with--but in three months, I've yet to have a day where I've woken up and not wanted to go to work for work's sake. There have some days (read: brain-melting-hangover-days) where I haven't wanted to do anything, much less work, but it didn't have anything to do with work itself, do you know what I mean? And that's a great feeling.
My dad used to have a girlfriend who would say, "Do you know?", just like that, all the time. Not "Y'know", or anything, and it was rather pleasant to hear. She was my favorite, by a long shot--my dad dated some nasties. Current girlfriend being of that sort, of course. Nasty, nasty, nasty. But she does my yardwork, so I shouldn't complain.
My teeth are cold from eating canteloupe for lunch. I like melons. heh.
You know, I'm not the only one who's having trouble--Ev, Anna, Mena...
Jesus fuck. I've only had FIVE siteviews today?? So this is what happens when I don't keep you entertained every minute of every goddamned day.
I guess this is what also happens when Cate has her internet privileges revoked at work. Let us bow our heads in silence for our fallen comrade, a casualty of the war against employer-internet-control.
...
That's why I make friends with the IS guys ASAP. It's always good to have them on your side.
I feel like I've hardly seen Boy in the last few days. I spend ten to twelve hours a day at/on my way to/from work, eight hours a day sleeping, which leaves a mere six to eight hours a day I can spend with him--but it usually ends up being closer to four to six hours, because of his work schedule. I miss those crazy early days when we'd be up until all hours of the night and we couldn't bear to leave eachother's sight and we drove to and from work together and would spend entirely too much time just looking at one another.
I shouldn't complain, really. We're still desparately in love, and we still spend every last minute together that we can...but everything feels so planned, figured out. I'm too young to feel that way. I love the comfort, I love the support--but I need a surprise here and there. A good surprise, mind you--not a surprise of the "I'm really a man" variety.
Oh, man. I can't believe I'm even saying this--but I'm having diamond-envy. I should get my big rock re-set, because it's just going to waste in a ring i'm not allowed to wear anymore.
Gah! I was in such a good mood. And then I had to have the most annoying conversation ever, resulting in absolutely nothing. except making my head hurt.
Well! That was the best lunch I've had in a long time. Good food, a lovely companion and a rolling-good time enjoyed by all. More on that front as things...develop.
Swamped with work. Details at 6, when I'm home and playing with the webcam. Perhaps, if you ask nicely, I'll let you see.
Love ridden, I’ve looked at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I’ve wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm, but it will only make
Me colder when it's over
So I can’t tonight, baby
No, not ‘baby’ anymore - if I need you
I’ll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we’ll only have to wave
My hand won’t hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
And now I’m giving up on you
It fit, a year and a half ago. I just wish that I'd had the follow-through. Things would be so much easier.
So, the weekend. I've gotten into this (nasty?) habit of not-blogging over the weekend and subsequently having to do a lot of catch-up on Monday morning.
And oh, is this a Monday. Everyone just seems so uncomfortable today, and it's catching. Of course, my discomfort may have something to do with the fact that I forgot I was wearing black underwear and wore a white oxford shirt--so now I feel like the Office Slut, bra showing through half-unbuttoned shirt. (Okay, so I could button up a bit--but I don't like doing things half-assed. If I'm going to be the Office Slut today, I might as well give it all I've got, heh. /insert rude comment about my snoobs here/)
Speaking of snoobs--the webcam. While the premise is entertaining, I'm rapidly discovering that the reality is something else--it's kind of nerve-wracking, actually. I don't think I like this being-watched thing, at least not all the time. And I'm really paranoid that I'll forget to turn it off, or it'll turn itself on, and it'll catch me doing all sorts of things that don't belong on camera, hmm? I've just got to be vewwy vewwy careful.
...
I'm not really in the mood to talk today, sorry. There's enough personal stuff going on to prevent me from being too entertaining, and that's what y'all come here for, yes? I've got plenty to recount from this weekend--it was a good one. Remind me to tell you about spending the day on the boat, and the Pirates of Arrrgh Dock, and balancing precariously. That'll have to come later, though. Time to lose myself in work.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:12 AM September 23, 2001
Boy bought me a webcam.
Boy bought me a webcam.
Let the dirtyness commence.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:19 AM September 22, 2001
The weather is too gorgeous
The weather is too gorgeous to stay inside, but my house needs to be cleaned. Here, amuse yourself the way I've done the last few days, but be forewarned: sometimes it hurts to read this woman.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 02:55 PM September 21, 2001
Also, did I mention? Illustrious
Also, did I mention?
Illustrious stepfather has been guaranteed a spot on the State Supreme Court upon his return from World Cruise 2002. Highly illustrious. You know, more than usual. I like to think I've had a hand in it...but that would be a lie. heh.
Anyway, pretty exciting, hmm? I'm going to guess he'll make his bid for Presidency in 2012. That'll be plenty of time.
Illustrious stepfather journied to Olympia to meet with him after the 9/11 disaster (they're friends, I told you), and upon arriving at Gary's office (mom calls him "The Guv"), finds him sitting at his desk with all the lights off. "I'm conserving energy!" the Guv esplains.
Get a speeding ticket after sleeping an hour and a half past your alarm--doing 35 in a 20. Stupid school zones. I wouldn't have gotten the ticket if I hadn't slept in, because normally when I drive down that hill, it's not school-zone-time. Stupid stupid speed traps. Who could love such stupid speed traps?
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:15 AM September 20, 2001
Ahh, quitting time. Plans for
Ahh, quitting time.
Plans for this evening include, but are not limited to, the following:
Taking these damned boots off, because they're killing my poor ickle feet.
I've been getting wiggly-er and wiggly-er all. day. long. I think it has something to do with my musical selections, which have ranged from Fiona Apple (c'mon, she's got a way-sexy voice, even if she is frighteningly skinny) to Toad the Wet Sprocket (Nia, you know what that's from, yes? Heh. Or should I say WHO that's from? Whee!).
I'm having a moment of quandry (I have a feeling that's bad english. Shh! don't tell mom)--I've started being more...free with the URL for my weblog. You know, to like...people I work with? So far it's just two people, whom I love dearly and know (http://www.planxi-mihi.org/spacer.gif) won't be too offended...But still! It raises interesting questions. Do I stop writing about work, which happens to be an integral part of my day, hmm? Do I stop writing about Coworker A (albeit I've done so only sparsely until now, I don't anticipate it becoming any more frequent, but who knows! she could become more irritating.)? Do I give them secret code names like I've given everyone else?
I'm all achey and burny-eyed, and my back is killing me. I seriously think I slipped a disk or something dancing with Zoey (that was her name, heh. The more I think about it, the more nuts she seemed. But she was haawwwwwwt.). I can't think of anything else that would have made me all crazy-in-pain like this...
*snicker* Oh yeah. Never mind. *blush!*
So, now to buckle down and work. I've got enough to make up in the next couple days.
I just got back from four hours in a strip club, followed from some wild-ass sex. No, not wild ass-sex. Read it again.
Anyway, here's the story: The Astronaut is here, and it's his last night on earth. Well, more like his last night in America before heading back to his air force base in Japan, where he may well be deployed to fight in WWIII. What else would he want but to drop way too much money in a strip club? He paid our cover and everything--including four dances for me by the hottest stripper I've ever met. She was kind of nuts, though. It was like getting a lap dance from a stripper who would momentarily get possessed by Molly Shannon's Mary Catherine Gallagher character. Yeah, I know. Nuts. But at least there was lots of bumping and grinding and making out and everything. I've got stripper-glitter all over me. We took off after that to have some crazy-wild naked time at home and left the Astronaut at the strip club with our address on a slip of paper so he can cab it home after he's done "talking". He's big into talking to strippers, much to our amusement. We'd both rather bump and grind. I hope he makes it home safe. He's got a plane to catch and our nation's freedom to uphold, heh.
I'm suddenly not feeling very well--and while I'm attempting to blame it on my back aching (I think I slipped a disc getting that twenty-minute lap dance), it's not that at all.
I miss my babies. A lot. Not that I'm anywhere near ready for that sort of thing--but I realized earlier that I would be about six months pregnant by now--just entering my third trimester. I still dream about them--I did it again last night, and woke up sweating.
I need to stop thinking about it.
So, there's my tale of debauchery, much abbreviated. It was a good time, much better than I'd expected to have. They're expensive, though, those strippers. I'd better double up at the cash machine next time.
eyes burning from glittery makeup and cigarette smoke. must sleep now.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 12:17 AM September 19, 2001
If I had a million
If I had a million dollars? I'd buy you a monkey (haven't you always wanted a monkey?).
I do so dearly want to go home and hang out with Boy and his Astronaut friend (in town on his way back to japan)--but I've made this commitment to go to Pool tonight. Hmmph.
So, lunch is finished--I had italian food with my mother, which dealt nicely with my recent garlic cravings. We talked about stuff and things and people and played the "That's Your Boyfriend" game, and it was good. Just the Two Of Us time is very rare these days, what with my working full time again, and her...well, being Mom. I expressed my reservations about their upcoming round-the-world-sail, and how most of my fears had to do with their being gone, away, not-here--but there's a newfound fear that's taking precedence.
Pirates.
Yeah, the arrgh-matey-whar's-me-booty kind. I'm serious!! Stop laughing and let me explain. While they're supposedly going to have some trained crew on board, and a tutor for my kid sister--for the most part, it'll just be them, my mom and stepdad and nine-year-old sister. For a while, perhaps, my brother, who will be newly-18 and full of youthful sarcasm. But mostly, they'll not have me, the (slightly more) level-headed one--and more importantly, the one who knows how to wield a gun.
They're spending all this time and money on a new nav station and a complex refridgeration system and all kinds of useless things when what they should be doing is installing cannons and armored plates and short-range defense systems. Screw refridgeration--they need firepower. See, it's a beautiful boat--looks somewhat like this, but with a single mast and more brightwork. And it's about five years older. Don't you think it could use a cannon or two? I'd feel much safer that way.
I'll have to join them for a while, of course, preferrably while they're in the South Pacific. Originally, I'd told them that I wanted to join them in the Mediterranean--but perhaps I'll hold off on that idea until the world settles down a bit. Until then, I'm heading for Fiji.
Two days off was nice, but now it's time to get things done.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:51 AM September 18, 2001
Anyway, I like this room.
Anyway, I like this room. It still feels like home after all we've done to the rest of the house to make it look more-us less-dad. I kind of miss the old-old parts of living here--the hideous couch my parents had when we'd first moved in (hey, it was 1983 or so.), all brown and orange and paisley-like. I miss the way the lawn sloped down some old stairs to the water, before everything was leveled out and the Mass of Deck was built. Waterslide and basketball and that old Commodore 64 (my first computer, wasn't it yours?), and that piece of molding from my old-old bedroom that we marked on to show how tall we were at any given year or month or week, when we were growth-spurting. We even used to measure the cat when she was growing and hadn't yet learned to run faster and hide better, and I have to tell you--there's nothing sillier-looking than a 6 year old, an 8 year old, and a 10 year old holding down a cat to see if she'd grown to be three feet long yet.
Boy came home with a wondrous fixative for me--Strawberry C Monster from my favorite juice company in the universe, and I'm going to go drink it now while we watch part 1 of the Big Brother 2 Finale. And then we're watching Love Cruise.
The morning glory and ferns are taking over the blackberry bushes. There's a a fairly well-aged larch up there, too, that seems to be already-choking from the vines as well.
I like this window, this room, all cozy and red. My bed is here, flanked by my books and the first two pieces of art that I purchased--local artists (Peggy Nomura and Phillipe Lamanno), we became acquaintances when I started frequenting the Market (that's Pike Place, of course) on a weekly and sometimes daily basis, depending on how far the walk was from wherever I was working at the time.
When the walk got too far, I'd cab it, because that's the kind of girl I am. Rainy days were best, it kept all but the hardiest tourists away, allowing for free movement, fresher baked goods (ohhh, those amandines at Le Panier. I'm salivating already. And the brioche loaf! c'est magnifique, toujours.) and better produce. Kale and zucchini, limons pink lady apples blood oranges in december peaches nectarines apricots peppers, hot or not, 30 tulips for twelve dollars (which was enough to keep me happy for a week--only twelve dollars for so much joy!) spinach rhubarb haricots verts butternut squash celeriac enough tomatoes to sink a ship herbs herbs herbs...to say nothing of what I'd find at the fishmongers', yes? Even on the crowded days, there was enough to keep me busy--the Pure Food guys are nice enough to tell you how to cook what you buy, be it salmon steaks or scampi. My recommendation is to wear tall heels and short skirts, because that'll always get you the best service--cleavage never hurts, either. It works at the butcher's shop, too.
That first day? I'd taken off for an hour's worth of not-listening, not-talking, not-dealing-with-high-maintenance-attorneys. I was soaked by the time I'd walked the six blocks from my office to the Market, because I don't believe in umbrellas, and was freezing to the bone which made a first stop at the crepe shop completely logical. Jambon et fromage (which will forever remind me of my first day in Paris, where, after seven hours of travelling that should have only taken three, I was so exhausted that I promptly threw up my dinner--a ham and cheese crepe made with munster. Evil creperie-bastard, giving me munster. Took me years to get over feeling nauseous just at the mention of a jambon et fromage crepe.), which is a lovely way to warm ones frozen toes in three inch heels. As I ate, I walked rather distractedly, stopping to admire produce and flirt with sexy fish guys and drool over baked goods, and upon passing a rather empty stall, a poster caught my eye. "Employee Of The Month: Bill Gates".
Come on. I had to stop.
A bowl of chowder and a Dr. Pepper later, we were slow-dancing behind the counter to that old Flamingo's song "I Only Have Eyes For You", and I was deeply in smit. The Chowder Guy, as he came to be referred to, was yet another reason to trek out of my way to buy produce that wasn't likely to be any fresher than that I found at the grocery store. He worked half-days six days a week at this tiny fish grill at the Market, but had a record year thanks to our friend Mr. Gates and some wise investments. He was fifteen years older than I was, and it showed. He didn't cut his hair for months at a time, only shaved occasionally, and was, in general so. incredibly. unsuitable. Fuel to fire, dismay on the part of family and friends encouraged enthusiasm on my part.
Ah, obsession. Ah, heartbreak. Oh please, we all knew it was coming! Completely unsuitable never wavers, just as youth and age remain apart despite chemistry.
It was then that I bought the first piece (remember, this post wasn't about sex, it's about art!)--the oil-pastel by Mr. Lamanno, three ships in a stormy sea under and dark and tumultuous sky. I had it framed in blue, and I still can't stop looking at it. It is almost childlike in composition, but it makes me smile when I think about that day, dancing to the teasing whistles of the fish guys, tourists amused by local antics, C.G.'s coworker amusedly watching while he held me close. One hand above my waist, the other holding my hand to his chest, doo wop drifting in the background. Hollywood couldn't have done it more perfectly.
The second piece had a better story--I tell it with the glee of someone submitting a letter to Penthouse Forum. Another Market boy (well, a Man-m.a.n.-Man by my account, but he'll always be Spiceboy to me, hmm?), another fleetingly unsuitable encounter--though this one was infinitely more pleasureable and mutually beneficial. I hate to get all mushy-new-age-y, but really--I learned so much about myself that I hadn't known before. He pushed boundries, blurred lines between pain and pleasure that I had been afraid to approach, and never once was I comfortable--even now, I squirm just thinking of him. I was never in control. He made no attempt to bridge the age gap--I was barely half his age, and made sure I knew it: calling me Sport and Scout while I called him all manner of inappropriate things.
What was I to do but buy something to remind me of it? This one is a watercolor, a theme that Ms. Nomura uses often--a flaming heart surrounded by swirling gold and blue.
And thus, I end this, before my sentiments become any more maudlin and I start to yearn for things I no longer have (and, for that matter, don't really want anymore): someone holding me back, down, away. I know now that there is nothing better than being pulled close, let in, being a part of something.
Orange juice from concentrate, when you leave it sitting in a glass all day long? For the record, it gets reeeeeally gross. Smells like stale cat pee.
Or maybe that's just my malfunctioning olfactory-factory. heh, olfactoryfactory.
I have done absolutely NOTHING today. Yesterday I at least managed to do some much-needed laundry, and I was even bothered to fold some--but man, today I'm wiped out just from sitting up straight. this had better subside soon.
My head feels incredibly foggy today. I'm getting frustrated because I can't seem to concentrate on any one thing--worse yet, the flitting from thought to thought is keeping me awake, which doesn't do anyone any good.
Still sick. More sick, actually. glands in my neck are swollen enough to prevent swallowing, and I'm slightly concerned. it can't be tonsilitis, because I don't have tonsils.
Bleh.
I got the most wonderful compliment from an old friend the other day: "I'm quickly becoming enthralled with your weblog". Enthralled! Too exciting.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:30 AM September 17, 2001
Greatly unsettled am I feeling.
Greatly unsettled am I feeling. talking like Yoda am I.
I'd like to tell you that I don't know what's causing it, and that there's really nothing bothering me, I'm just uncomfortable because I don't feel well physically--but that would be untrue. I've yet to process the events of last Tuesday, for reasons I've discussed to no end--not having the right place, at the right time, not wanting to upset others who were more deeply affected than I was--but mostly, it's this: I'm afraid that if I let go, I won't be able to stop.
Congestion has returned. The arrival of pizza is imminent. Boy is taking spectacular care of me.
That is all.
Oh wait, no--if you're not already watching the X-Files marathon on FX, then stop doing whatever foolish nonsense you're wasting your time with, and start watching. You've already missed the pilot and half of "The Erlenmeyer Flask".
I love erlenmeyer flasks.
Also, prepare yourself for a slightly embarassed post about my early-teenhood journal writings, though I'm slightly late with the meme (thank you, Jason). Be prepared for some very bad poetry. You have been forewarned.
And I love mommies who bring me popcorn chicken and Dr. Pepper when I'm sick-abed. And when I say "sick-abed", I do most certainly mean "watching the Food Network while folding mountains of laundry".
Let us all rejoice in the fact that I'm already feeling better--I'm thinking this morning was such a bitch for a number of reasons:
1) My immune system is all outta whack, what with the seasons changing and the temperature dropping and the dumb people (me) leaving the windowsat night while we sleep.
2) Uhhhm...Yeah, that's about it.
Hopefully tomorrow will dawn anew with no signs of today's maladies. That would suuhhhhck.
My toes, however, have not recovered--they've been cold since last night.
Blast! That last post about scrounging for a popsicle was written hours ago! Grr.
I cannot keep my mind on any one thing, so I'll off to folding laundry again now, thanks.
There is a VERY odd man outside my window twirling a stick and kicking a rock. Oh, he's got a child with him, who has just run down the walk to our front door. Go away, Strange Man and Rude Child.
I am oh-so-very not-well today. Sniffles snuffles coughing sneezing sore throat headache ugh. Throat-soreness compounded by eating stupid oatmeal for breakfast--can't breathe, feel bits of oats clinging to back of throat, gross gross gross.
why is it so damned cold?? stupid autumn weather. stupidwindows, too. must find socks.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:15 AM September 16, 2001
And so, a day that
And so, a day that begins in stillness ends in stillness, after much late-breaking emotional upheaval. We've spent days now trying to recover from Tuesday's gruesome shock, and what does my illustrious (and soon to be nominated to the State Supreme Court, I hear. It's good to be friends with the Governor.) stepfather do but dredge it all up in an attempt to work out his own feelings and frustrations. It was a loooooong dinner, but it's over, and we've got another month or so before we have to go again.
We dropped my grandmother off at her little dark house, and for the first time in years, I wanted to stay with her, and hear every single story she's ever told me, the Napi stories, tales of her youth growing up on the poorest reservation this side of the Mississippi--I've heard them more times than I can count. Tonight, I wanted to stay and hear them until I drifted to sleep in her big squishy bed, comforted by her solid warmth, and do you know why? Because things were okay then. Everyone was safe, and comfortable, and no harm could come to any of us (or, at least, that's how we think as children, yes?). Right now, I need that--I need to feel safe and comfortable and I need her to feel safe and comfortable. I don't think it'll happen for either of us any time soon.
Boy and I finished the drive home in mostly-silence, except for a few of my angry outbursts--it's hard being my stepfather's daughter sometimes--and when we came down the walk, we saw it again: the lake was perfectly flat, no wind, no waves. No misty gray fog this time, just clouds hanging low reflecting the city lights in a hazy orange glow--complete calm. I was freezing by the time I'd crossedbarefoot across the lawn and to the end of the dock, but part of me was ready to just keep walking, right off the end into that endless black wet. I want to numb my body, my skin, my mind, and drift down to where there is no CNN or headline news--just dark, cold, wetness.
Instead, it's folding laundry with my Boy, and sleep. I can only hope it's of the dreamless variety.
I awoke four hours ago to the sound of absolute stillness. The lake was flat--no gentle waves lapping at buoys or bulkheads, boats remained motionless. Fog had covered the entire eastern shore, and all I could see past the end of the dock was gray, gray, gray. Everything seemed so perfectly calm no noise no movement not even the familiar sound of an early-morning drizzle and all I could do was sigh, snuggle into my still-sleeping Boy and hope that we weren't the only people left on earth. It was just that kind of stillness.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:35 AM September 15, 2001
Suggestion for humanity: In an
Suggestion for humanity: In an effort to make everything feel better, go get your hair done. I feel a thousand times better after two hours at the salon.
Most heartwarming/wrenching thing I've seen all week: On a corner near my house is a mosque. At some point during the week, some asshole made a drunken attempt to firebomb it, and missed (thank god)...and this afternoon, in a show of local solidarity, neighbors and friends and worshippers alike gathered on that corner, with flags and flowers and food for anyone who wanted it. Passing motorists honked, pedestrians gave hugs and handshakes.
Can't find a post (auughh! the irony.). Let me try to recreate:
.....
Nope, can't do it. Basically, I bitched about my stomach being upset ALL NIGHT LONG after dinner with EDS at the Cheesecake Factory, and how the frou-drink I had last night (which was essentially a strawberry milkshake loaded with Ketel-1. very out of character for me. *ahem*) packed a greater punch than I thought it did. Then, a recap of things that have happened in the last little while but have been lost in the fray since Tuesday. Here, in short form:
-Boy has a tremendous crush on Heather, which would send me into flaming fits of jealousy if I didn't have a crush on her myself.
-I had a dream that my company had gone from being in the business of incredibly expensive hawaiian shirts and silk pants to being in the business of incredibly expensive weaponry and armed personnel transport. Lucio, our loving CEO, had turned into an oversexed arms dealer, with a passel of Dobermans to complete the effect. I played a barmaid in the oceanside town where Lucio's "compound" was located (see, that's funny, because we don't call our stores "stores", we call them "compounds". Heh. Get it? Funny.), and I smoked menthol 100's. I was trapped in the "compound", and I was hiding, because who wants to get caught trespassing on the grounds of an oversexed italian arms dealer's property? The whole house was covered in horrible bamboo furniture, a nightmare straight out of the Sims House Party. Very disturbing.
-Whoa. A car just screamed past the window (the spare bedroom/office/laundry room looks out over the street.) doing at least 40 mph (our little one lane practically an alley houses rilly rilly close street's speed limit is 15mph), in reverse. Scary.
-Whoops, there it goes again, in the other direction--still in reverse. Stop that, mister driver-man, please. I'm very protective of this window since the Dynamite-Through-The-Window Incident. Very protective.
-Someone has GOT to find us a remedy for spiders, tout suite, s'il vous plait. They are taking over our house. I found one yesterday practically the size of my fist, IN OUR BED--just waiting to devour me. Or Boy, who was soundly asleep like the sweetest Boy he is. I screamed like a little girly-man-girl and made him dispose of it. Found one last night in the bathroom, attempting to suck the life from me. And by "attempting to suck the life from me", I do, of course, mean "drowning in the sink". Still, this has got to stop. I'd forgotten that spiders were a part of lakefront-cottage-living.
And now, a bowl of cereal and the Sims. Though I should be going in to work. It's busy. I feel bad for not going.
Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. Fucking hell. I had this post all typed and ready to go, and it was funny and cleverly witty and all things i aspire to be---and I managed to fucking lose it. Excuse me while I go beat my head against a post.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:50 AM September 14, 2001
Racquel Welch jokes are really
Racquel Welch jokes are really only funny when they're made by drunken Claims Associates over the company-wide intercom, as they are done here at my company. Highly amusing.
Sometimes Dr. Pepper tastes like lipstick. Or, if nothing else, has a lipstick-like aftertaste/undertone. Not good lipstick, either--more like those miniature lipstick-samples that my grandfather's second wife used to get from the Mary Kay lady down the block from their house. They were always weird colors, too--coral and bubblegum and baby-butt pink. She'd save them so that my former stepsister (she wasn't a former-anything at the time, btw) and I would have something to play with while grandpa and my brother played with trains and cars and Gramps' "inventions".
I used to hate being a girl. Actually, I still hate being a girl sometimes--today is one of those days, as I've been crippled by cramps (yeah, I took a Vicodin, which has rendered me slightly numb to touch and taste.)--but for the most part, being able to use womanly wiles is great.
Of course, I say that now, before dealing with the trauma of childbirth. I may yet change my mind.
In this time of mourning, there's nothing like watching firemen hitting on blowzy blondes (cosmopolitans in hand) in a mall bar. Those black bands over their badges is soooo sexy.
Are you having your Moment? Mine came today, when my boss informed us that we'd be shutting down the office for two hours today to go to the Memorial Service at Westlake Park, two blocks away. I suddenly realized that having my Moment in the middle of a crowd of 50,000 people would be a bad idea--so I'm here, alone in the office, having my Moment.
I am scared and exhausted--I want this to be over, but I know that it won't be, not any time soon. I'm weary of putting of the strong-face and holding it all in. I want to be able to sleep again, to stop waking up from dreams of explosions and death. I need to be able to just stop and sob and feel...
But again, I can't. I won't. Work isn't the place for it--it feels wrong. Home is not the place, either--Boy is having his own issues, which only serve to stress me out--and what can I do but be the strong one?
I'm going to lunch now. Read this woman's archives, they'll cheer you up. I promise. And if she lived here, I'd make a helluva pass at her ass, I'll tell you that much. Heather, if you ever read this--you're a hottie-hot of the first order.
81 site visits yesterday. Perhaps I won't need until the end of the year, after all.
And I see that Meg has been here, as I'm now on her referral logs...come back, Meg!
Now, to work. I will not drive to work today, I will not drive to work today...Five days in a row is enough.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 07:27 AM September 13, 2001
Fajitas were lovely, thank you.
Fajitas were lovely, thank you. My surprise plan (which was really just a walk on the beach, holding hands, and not talking about anything disaster-related) fell through, as we had dinner late-ish, which meant it was dark and approaching chilly by the time we were leaving the restaurant, and because I was unable to distract Boy from thinking about Tuesday.
Am I the only person who feels it necessary to make attempts towards moving on? Let me reiterate: I can. not. think about Tuesday's events with any depth of emotion, or I'll become completely useless. I can feel myself start to think about it--how could I not? Despite being occasionally heartless and shark-like, I am human--and it's so incredibly overwhelming. The suffering and hopelessness, the immense loss of life, the incredible destruction of two symbols of american strength and power...but the minute, the second I begin to think about these things, I fall to pieces.
And that, my friends, will do no one any good. Solution? distraction and inanity. There's no other way I'll make it through this. What help can we be if we're busy succumbing to, as Zone put it, extreme empathy?
So turns our troubled earth, and with darkness fallen, I turn to dreamless sleep for solace. A better day awaits.
Things to do when I leave work, in no particular order:
+deposit too much money in Boy's account, so our rent check doesn't bounce.
+buy shampoo
+listen to some Robbie Fulks to make everything feel better.
+eat a piece of apple pie.
Oh, and I must get ready for my date with my Boy tonight. We're going to have some fajeetas, and then I have a surprise planned. Shh!! don't tell him.
"In the wake of the recent, horrendous tragedy that just occurred in our homeland, I would like to extend my condolences to everyone in America, especially to those who lost a family member, a friend, or a co-worker. We are all deeply saddened by this incident.
You may or may not know, I am an Arab-American, and a Muslim. Because of what happened, there have been cries for retaliation against Arabs, especially Muslims. I have friends who have been harassed, yelled at, and threatened by people in their communities. "You are next," "We should kill you," "Go back where you came from," are things that have been said to them because of their race and religion. Islam does NOT condone such acts of violence against people. Islam does not teach us about hatred, or killing others for a cause. What Islam teaches us is to live at peace with others, to love one another, to have respect for others regardless of race and/or religion. Islam teaches us to help those that are less fortunate than us.
I have been following the news closely, in the hopes to hear that they have found who was behind such atrocious acts, and that he/they are not of Arab decent. I know deep in my heart that they are, and it saddens me. I have lived in the US for almost 20 years, and have heard people make remarks to me about my race, especially after the Federal Building bombing in Oklahoma City. I have 2 small boys, who on Tuesday morning were scared that their friends might not like them because they are Arab Muslims, and blame themselves for what happened. I fear for my children, and other Arab-American children, having to go through this, and I pray to God that they do not experience what I did.
There are those out there that distort and use religion as an excuse for hatred. They are wrong for doing so. We are a kind and loving people. It is unfortunate that there are some that have such hatred towards the United States that they would kill so many innocent people. Please do not judge me for being an Arab and a Muslim. I do not, and never will, condone such horrendous acts. I hope that we catch and convict the persons behind this.
-H. E-A."
I'm still shocked and dismayed to think that anyone would have to write an email like this.
I'm getting pretty tired of all this liquid-trance-virgin-radio business...it all sort of sounds the same, and when I'm not paying attention, it's easy enough to mistake it for Smoove Jazz, which is not a good thing. There is one undeniable benefit--no commercials. no news updates. no death count.
It's nice to be able to turn my brain off and get some work done--yesterday was impossible while I was listening to NPR and the BBC. This is much, much easier.
Eee! Kimmie and Sheena (coworkers extraordinaire) are bringing me back a sammich from Subway! Not exactly veg-chili-cheese-fries, but man, it's sounding good.
I can't believe it's almost noon. How can today go by so quickly when yesterday just draaaaaaagged and draaaaaaaagged?
I brought a nice fresh salad for lunch--but I have the most intense craving for some vegetarian-chili-cheese-fries from the 'Cane. (That's the Hurricane for you folks.)
Good thing the 'Cane isn't within walking distance...but the Cheesecake Factory is! I could have cheesecake for lunch! mmmm...(homer-drooling-noise) cheeeeeesecake.
You know, I'm loving this RadioFree Virgin Liquid Lounge, because it's smoove and trance-y and helps the day pass--but I wish they had some sort of playlist. Some of this stuff is good, I mean reeeeeeal goooooood. (Yeah, that was my Barry White voice).
One of the girls upstairs made the best freaking chocolate chip cookies I've ever tasted. So so so very good.
See? There is goodness in the world. (and not THAT kind of "goodness", babydoll.)
I woke up again today hoping Tuesday was just some crazy matrix-nightmare-took-the-blue-pill day...but it's not. It was real, and with every passing minute, it becomes more real.
It's time for me to move on! I've made my appointment to donate blood (though they'll probably turn me away--I haven't been able to donate blood for ages. I suppose I should stop getting my tattoo worked on, hmm? Oh, and being slightly anemic never helps), I've made my monetary donation to the Red Cross, and I've verified that everyone I know in New York is safe and accounted for. What else can I do? I feel more empowered than I did two days ago, when all anyone could do was watch CNN--but I feel slightly guilty about going back to routine activity. If things are still torn apart in the biggest city in this country, how can they be so...normal here?
Of course, our definition of "normal" and "routine" have changed. Last night, we began seeing planes in the night sky, laden with days worth of undelivered mail and packages--sort of unsettling to watch, though there's almost no chance that those same planes are also laden with suicidal terrorists, right? Also, this morning--when pulling into the parking garage (which happens to be in the brand new Nordstrom's Headquarters), I was asked for my driver's license and another piece of identification. Both pieces of ID were duly noted on a clipboard, and I was given an assigned parking spot--overly cautious, I think, but better than yesterday, when I wasn't even allowed in, as I was not a Nordstrom employee.
In any event, it's time for me to move on. I've done what I can--giving blood and money and prayer (which should send most of you into shock, hearing that I've offered prayer--seeing as how I'm the least religious person on earth. Also, I'm really not sincere enough for that sort of thing, the church-going and prayer-stuff. I don't have enough faith, but I scraped up some for this.)--what do I have left to give that would be of any use? If there's something I'm overlooking, please do let me know. Until I hear differently, it's back to "routine" for me.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:42 AM September 12, 2001
On a somewhat-unrelated-to-tragedy note (see,
On a somewhat-unrelated-to-tragedy note (see, it's unrelated because it's not about yesterday's events--but the following exchange could not have occured without yesterday's events. Capice?), I got an amusing compliment last night from Quincy. I was dishing up the homemade apple pie I tossed together when she said, "You're like the best mom on earth, but better", or something to that extent, which made me blush like mad with pleasure.
I'm exfoliating my ears with Virgin LiquidRadio--if only I could do the same with my eyes. All I can see is that second plane hitting WTC2, chunks of building falling from the sky, knee-deep rubble, the exodus from manhattan--ten million people just walking.
And then the slightly irrational part of my brain keeps thinking things like, "Man, good thing you weren't there, your feet would have been killing you in those boots." Okay, more than slightly irrational, that piece of brain.
I've sent some mail to Ev asking him what I'm doing wrong with my blog--but now I have greater concerns. A long-time family friend was in the World Trade Center yesterday...and no one has heard from him.
okay, I've figured it out--it's only showing the post before whatever I've just written--so a post I write at 8:22 won't show up until I write and publish another one.
Dammit. That was posted last night, but didn't show up.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:20 AM September 11, 2001
To the person who was
To the person who was too cowardly to identify themselves when lambasting my last post:
Some people are coping with this insanity by watching hours of footage of explosions and fires and anguish-filled faces; some cope by gathering their loved ones and sending prayers of grieviance to those whose lives have been lost; some cope by talking about the horrific tragedy, analyzing hours and hours of images seen...
I've done all of that. I've had fourteen hours with nothing else to do but watch...and pray...and think. I can't do it anymore. And so--I turn to distraction. My old standby--baking (just an apple pie, nothing serious.) Dinner with friends, the four of us shell-shocked after today. An episode of the Powerpuff Girls, which didn't exactly help--it featured a helpless Townsville being torn apart, burning without relief.
If you think that I'm not affected by today's events--you are gravely mistaken. I'm just out of tears.
Remember when the World Trade Center was bombed a few years ago? My parents were in Manhattan at the time, two blocks away having lunch with Peter Jennings--or maybe it was Tom Brokaw? One or the other--and they spent the next eleven hours at the NBC (or ABC? I get them all confused!) studio watching news as it was broadcast.
Of course, we didn't know they were watching Peter/Tom, that they were ten feet away--we were at home with my grandmother, who, after hearing about the bombing, spent four hours praying to whatever Catholic saint you pray to when you fear your loved ones have been blown to pieces. I threw up and waited.
-The day Kennedy died.
-Here's how everyone in Israel feels, every day
(and my personal favorite)-With relative regards to the number of casualties and level of distruction, and also with regards to the complex orchestration, the 21st Century has just had its version of Pearl Harbor.
Buildings here in downtown Seattle that have been evacuated so far:
-Bank of America Tower (a.k.a. Columbia Tower)
-All state and federal buildings, including courthouses
-and the Convention Center...which happens to be a block away from my building.
You're right, they're probably not going to bomb Seattle--but they waited until 9 a.m. on the East Coast, when buildings would be full.
31 minutes until 9 a.m.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:32 AM September 10, 2001
Two most awkward moments from
Two most awkward moments from today that involved people from the past (two individuals that I went to highschool with):
1) At the grocery store--a fellow who held much promise in our youth, an aspiring actor at sixteen--scanning my groceries, with little hope of escape. He said he'd tried acting after school, but couldn't support himself, so he gave up. Tried, nope, done. He likes working for said grocery store, and will be taking his first paid vacation in a month.
Very, very awkward.
2) Driving home from work, on a downtown street--A girl I'd gone to school with for seven years (though we'd never been close friends or known eachother in anything other than passing)--panhandling. We made eye contact, she nodded, I drove away.
Does this make me a bad person?
I'm off to tuck my Boy in bed--I can't stand another night sleeping alone.
Holy crap! It's 2:30 already! That's wunnerful, jes' wunnerful. Of course, it helps that I got here at 7:40 this morning. I think I'm going to start doing that every day--I feel like I get so much more done!
Gah. Where did all this crazy enthusiasm come from?
Between the Strawberry C Monster for breakfast and the chicken and stars soup I'm having for lunch, my body better be back in gear--I have no time to get sick right now.
It's been suggested that I've developed fall allergies--which is a distinct possibility, as I suddenly developed spring allergies this year after a lifetime of being allergy-free. Can you believe it?? 21 years of being fine and dandy (well, with the exception of that penicillin allergy, but I'm sure that's unrelated), and now I have to wake up sniffly-and-sneezy when the weather turns.
Reblogger is fixed, huzzah! Not like anyone uses it here anymore, but still! Just in case you're incensed enough by something I say, you can now flame me in front of everyone, instead of using passive-agressive little emails.
Have you ever had a Mommy Crush? You know, where you wished one of your friends' moms was really your mom? You may have had the best mom on earth (I did. and do! I still have the best mom ever.), but this other mom would seem infinitely cooler and more fun and you wanted so so bad for her to be your mom--yeah, me too.
Except this time it's not one of my friends' moms...it's my boss! She's very sporty and straight-arrow and athletic and takes the time to ask how I'm doing and gets silly with us girls sometimes--I want her to be my mommy, too!
I had a banana for breakfast, and it gave me heartburn. I hope I'm not developing some gastrointestinalesophagealrefluxsyndrome. That would suck.
Or maybe it was my Odwalla Strawberry C Monster--which provides 2000% of your recommended daily allowance of vitamin C. Yeah, that's two-thousand percent. I'm surprised I've got enamel left on my teeth.
I slept alone last night for the first time in almost eight months. No wonder I feel so out of sorts.
Dinner and bowling? Ha. More like dinner and strip clubs, and frankly, I can't blame 'em. The Astronaut hadn't seen a naked American woman in almost a year. In fact, I'm pretty lucky that all they were chasing were strippers.
I'm just peeved that they went without me. Boy's stripper said that she would have given me a free lap dance.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 08:46 AM September 09, 2001
Oh, and I'll get that
Oh, and I'll get that ReBlogger patch soon enough. I'm just debating redoing the site design--so why do any work until I decide? Drop me a line if you see any cool site designs to steal.
There's plenty to talk about--it's been a busy weekend. The Astronaut has been here, and we've done the touristy-things to get him back into the swing of american life (Unfortunately, after nine months of eating sushi and squid jerky--yeah, I was grossed out, too--American food is doing him no good at all...or at least no good to his digestive system, heh. Poor guy.).
Unfortunately, I'm exhausted. Here, in abbreviated form (I started writing the list of things that had happened this weekend without using vowels, but I couldn't understand what I was typing):
-Sndwchs@Honeyhole--Texas Tease, Luke Duke, and the Gooch; grape soda.
-Sex toys@Babeland, and the Crypt. Discussed the possibility of making the Astronaut a Wet Spot member, but jet lag prevented that, and nap-like-things were had instead.
-Archie McPhee provided much entertainment in exchange for a good deal of money. Wobbly hula-girl was purchased for the dashboard of my car. Nicely compliments the sticker the Astronaut gave me, which simply says, "Spank Me". Ha! Perfect. Now anyone who sees my car will know I'm a pervert--I don't even have to show them my spank me tattoo!
-Dinner at the 5 Spot, then home, where we...passed out on the living room floor? I think that's about right.
-Breakfast this morning at the Cheesecake Factory (yeah, I had cheesecake. Fresh strawberry cheesecake. That counts as a fruit serving, right?), with much soul-searching conversation.
-After a quick gas stop (where I saw my first live tracheotomy-hole-talker. Or whatever it's called. Scary.), we headed to The Puyallup Fair (that's "pyoo-al-up" to you non-locals. And to you locals who are really transplants.) for funnel cakes and lemonade, fowl and livestock. The boys discovered I was a "horse girl" in my youth--a collector of horse figurines (hey, I only had three, and they were all gifts. But I'll admit to buying the poster of all the breeds of horses with my allowance money when I was nine. The riding lessons were my mom's idea. Mostly.) and memorabilia. Apparently, those girls are "cruel"...though I merely purport to be heartless. Cruelty is for those with nothing better to do.
And now, I'm here at home...alone...waiting for the boys to return from a late dinner and bowling, with much grunting and crotch-scratching, I'm sure.
Ha, that was funny--they don't grunt at all. Crotch-scratching...now that's another story.
Anyway, the effects of the lovely bath I had earlier (cranberry-scented bath salts and slivers of chocolate, with the lights dimmed and in the background played the soothing sounds of...Howard Stern? Boy and the Astronaut were watching a TiVo'd episode in the living room. Guh.) are officially kicking in, so I believe I'll head to bed--and this week promises to be busy as all hell during the day, now that our warehouse isand we can resume normal operations.
Last week totally spoiled me--I want three-day work weeks every week.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:24 PM September 07, 2001
Only 39 minutes until I
Only 39 minutes until I leave--I'd better make a list now:
Things I Must Do Before 7:30p.m. Tonight
-Buy new boots and bad-ass sparkly brit-flag teeshirt
-wash hair, sparkle-ize makeup, find leather pants
-figure out what to do with wet hair, new sparkly makeup, and creases in leather pants
oh, and clean the entire house, because Boy's best friend the astronaut is staying with us for a bit while he's home from Japan.
T-minus 10 or so hours and counting until Himself takes the stage. I hope I'm not disappointed.
I plan on wearing my leather pants--it's finally not too hot to wear them. I'd better go find new boots, though--none of the eight pairs I own look quite right with them. Truth be told, they're all too girly, my boots--I need something a little less sexy, a little more bad-ass. Though perhaps if I were to purchase that glittery-british-flag t-shirt, I could get away with the red snakeskin boots.
Your thoughts? Y'all might as well email me, since I've had barely two comments on ReBlogger in the last two weeks. Might as well get rid of the thing, it just makes my page load slowly.
But did I mention that I cleared 2,000 hits this week? Not bad, I say.
Work is so so so boring today. Nothing happening. Not a single bloody thing. Well, there's a little bit of bloodiness--I got a papercut, which hurt like the dickens. Other than that, I'm pretending to look busy while my boss is here--but currently, she's out of the office, so I'm doing nothing productive. Trust me, if I had something to do, I'd do it. That's just not the case right now.
For your reading pleasure, some links (since there's nothing interesting happening):
~Scotland Considers Spanking Ban--Aww! Don't do that, Mister Kilt-Man! Hmm. I'll have to reconsider moving to Scotland, if that's the case. (only slightly related: Where else but Salon can you find headlines like that??)
~For those of you who have a fondness for breakfast, much like Boy and myself: Lore's Breakfast Menu. I love those Brunching Shuttlecocks.
Stupid fucking Backflip has been on the fritz for almost a week now, and I can't access most of my favorites. That's no fun. Normally, I would just go to the desktop at home, instead of using the iBook, and check them out there--but there's no interwebnetsuperhighwayinformation access on that computer until XP works. And the wireless network card works, too. Grr
Something I meant to mention yesterday but didn't because I'm easily distracted: Blondie is deathly ill with this summer flu that's getting passed around. Let's all pass her some good-health-wishes, aye?
...
She's not answering her home phone, or (more worrisome-ly) her cell phone. Hrm. Perhaps I should call her parents.
Here is what I was fooling around with last night when I fell asleep. No wonder I had some fucked up dreams.
Seriously, it was sooooo fascinating--mostly I liked finding out what they were in for, and for how long. There are more people incarcerated for conspiracy than you would've thought.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:54 AM September 06, 2001
Popcorn chicken has been consumed.
Popcorn chicken has been consumed. All is well with the world.
Also making my night brighter than day--Hardy has been evicted. Here's another secret confession: Boy and I have been watching Big Brother 2 for weeks now. I haven't mentioned it--but it's been an all-consuming thing, this Big Brother-watching. So much personal drama and sex appeal and people at their worst! We love it. Seriously, y'all should have been watching.
Time to find out who wins HoH--that's Head of Household for those of you who aren't in the know. Losers.
The afternoon has been unexpectedly busy, as I was slammed with piles of other peoples' work. I hate people who get vacations right now.
And don't mention my three-month vacation from employment, that was different. I just wasn't...ready. to work. heh.
I'm listening to the mac and counting seconds until I leave. Have you noticed that phenomenon among work-bloggers? Not Fleetwood-Mac-listening, though I'm sure it's common--who couldn't love the Mac? No, I mean endless blogging about how long until they get to leave work. Pretty darned common. Cate does it, too! I'm not alone in this.
More work, then home. No more eating like an eight year old--it's incredibly boring. I think I'll marinate a flank steak tonight.
T-minus 34 hours and counting until my new boyfriend takes the stage at The Tractor. Shh, don't tell Boy. He'll be jealous of Robbie Fulks.
We're having dinner at Madame K's first--which is perfect for us, given our prity for supporting the adult industry. I just hope they have bbq'd chicken pizza.
Boys: Do not make mix CD's for girls that include Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes" unless you mean it. Otherwise we spend the entire eleven minutes (hey, I'm listening to the live extended version.) thinking of Lloyd Dobler and a boombox in the rain.
> I'm afraid that when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I'll come back and find Boy murdered in our bed, with a crazy axe-wielding lunatic waiting for me. How the lunatic would get in, or for that matter find our house (there's something to be said for living on a street that doesn't show up on maps.) is not a concern.
> I'm constantly concerned that I'm going to staple my thumb. (You know, when I'm using a stapler, not when I'm doing normal things like...making toast.) Of all my irrational fears, this is the most real--I've done it before. I was probably six or seven--home with a babysitter, who was busy watching whatever trash was on television back then. I got tired of her not paying attention to me, so I tip-toed into Mom's office (which I knew I wasn't supposed to play in, but I've never been much for rules) and somehow or another, I ended up with a staple in my thumb, which was the most agonizing pain my seven year old brain could register--and because I'm just. that. brilliant, I didn't make a noise. For the next hour and a half, until Mom got home, I kept my little mouth closed and my little fist clamped shut in a bloodless vise--and it took about two seconds for Mom to figure out what was going on.
So let's not quibble over the staple fear. That was a long and painful hour and a half until Mom came home and took the staple out.
>Werewolves. Look, you go live in the pitch-black-no-neighbors-weird-howling-at-night-woods for three very formative years (ages 8 to 12, thank you) and see how you feel about them.
Goes a long way to explain what I was doing with a firearm--though I'm not exactly sure what kind of protection a gun would be agains a rogue stapler. Those things are mean.
With regards to my comments yesterday, where I stated that I'd like the chance to be eight again--two things:
1) I'm making concessions to the time-space continuum (which prevents me from actually being eight again--oh, and let's thank Physics, too) and just eating like an eight year old today. Breakfast = Peanut butter and jelly sammich. Lunch = alphabet soup and an apple. (And cranberry juice, but that's a concession to by grown-up urinary tract and its prity towards infection) Dinner = probably Mac'n'Cheese. Unless Boy wants to eat like a grown-up, which would require my making something sensible and balanced. Man. How do we make it through childhood eating like that?
and 2) Do not take those comments as indication that I'd like to be made into a Disney production, a made-for-teevee-movie, or a Lifetime special. I was just tired of being a grownup for a while. I think the PB&J this morning killed my childish urges.
Killed my appetite, too--I'm feeling rather queasy from it.
Ahh, morning. Everything looks better in the morning, right?
Well, no, not today--I forgot to take my makeup off last night, so this morning my eyes are all itchy and red. They look like a Visine ad "before" picture.
But really, all else looks much better this morning, with hearty thanks to Zone. We had a nice heart-to-heart, and then came back to the house and had the lamest dinner ever--we were lazy and just barbequed whatever was around--chicken for Boy, gardenburgers for me and Zone, which wasn't bad really--and the company was great! And barbequeing whatever's in the fridge is fine, too--when it's just me and Boy. I just like making our guests feel special!
God, I sound like my mother. I almost quoted Martha Stewart last night, but I stopped myself in time.
In any event, Zone and his new girl are going to have to come to dinner when I can play proper hostess. I love that game!
Speaking of playing proper hostess, I'm trying to convince my mother to join me for a class at the Blue Ribbon Cooking School, on Zone's recommendation. I thought it would be fun, just the two of us--we don't get to do those things very often anymore, between the demanding Kid Sis and the more-demanding Stepfather. Hopefully it'll work out--I'm feeling the need to get a lot of time in with Mommy before they leave on their trip.
Time to be productive.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 09:08 AM September 05, 2001
Correct me if I'm wrong:
Correct me if I'm wrong: It's a bad sign when it hurts to wear flat shoes, yes? I've got to stop wearing three inch boots to work.
I'm off to Zone's place for a little bit of mutual consolation, and then we're coming back here for dinner and possibly hottubbing with Boy. Niiiiiice relaxed evening.
I want my own domain name, wherein I can write sensitive, well-thought-out, dryly witty entries two or three times a week, provide some pictures for y'all who don't see me every day, and an entirely separate section for the weblog. I feel like everyone is getting the impression that I'm a scatty, mood-swingy, makes-jokes-at-the-expense-of-fools-and-the-elderly kind of girl.
Which is not to say that I'm not that kind of girl--I'd just like to be able to hide it, if I wanted to.
Rob in HR just made my day. He returned from a birthday luncheon at the Cheesecake Factory--and brought me a piece of Chocolate Chip Cheesecake. Guess it pays to give him all my lunch leftovers.
Honestly, I felt like he had just handed me the cure to an...incurable disease. Or something. It felt good. I'm pretty sure I'm being silly, but it just felt so nice to have someone do something for me without expecting anything in return.
Listen to me, whining like this has been the day from hell--it hasn't--I've just felt a wee bit down in the dumps. I hate that.
Mmm...Rolo's...*homer-drooling-noise* Even though I know
Mmm...Rolo's...*homer-drooling-noise*
Even though I know better now that problems can't be solved with food, I'm hoping that the package of Rolo caramelly-chocolate goodness will make me feel better.
Look, it's chocolate or insanity. I'll sacrifice the chocolate.
Why are things different? Because two of the women (who'd been together a decent amount of time, I think) that I play pool with have broken up--which makes me feel uncomfortable just thinking about it. It's sad, right? because they were awfully cute together, and I'm sure it hurts...but I don't know them well enough to be privy to the details, or to really feel bad about it, either.
Also, I'm really not sure that I quite fit in with the group, y'know? I'm not Bi-, Poly-, or Kinky enough, I don't think. Sure, I've got the PVC nurse's uniform, and I think girls are pretty hot, too--but it's just...not...right. Right now. Particularly the poly bit. Ehh.
Then again, I'm not feeling much like I fit in anywhere right now. I have a hard time hanging out with old friends, because I feel like things have changed so drastically--and things just feel...weird right now with new friends. It's like going through puberty all over again, but with better hair.
Anyway, that's why. I'm feeling weird and out of sorts and rilly rilly need some retail therapy. But I can't, I'm going to be responsible and pay my rent and bills and make dinner at home and fold laundry instead of playing the Sims and...*sniffle*. I'm tired of being a grown-up. I'm ready to be...10? Nah, 8. Again. I didn't have enough time as an eight year old.
I'm feeling decidedly grumpy, and it's because I'm wearing a turtleneck. I'm ready for it to just. be. fall. so I can put a turtleneck on in the morning when it's cold and blustery and not worry about overheating by 10 a.m.
...
Ahhh, much better. Boy, most wonderful wonderful boy he is, just brought me a different shirt. Isn't he positively fantastic? He came home early yesterday so we could pick up the new cushions for the sofa--we had some firmer ones made because the ones that were on the sofa were too smushy--I was constantly fluffing and refluffling and it was driving me insaaaaaane. And driving him insane--those smushy ones were spectacularly uncomfortable.
--
I had a dream last night that I was taking a class at a local community college--Beginning Conversational Russian. Is this my subconscious telling me that I need a challenge, and that I should learn a new language? Or could it be that my fascination with Hobbyist-Provider messageboards (warning: if you're at work, don't click those. Big trouble awaits.) is manifesting itself in my dreams? Further analysis to come. Updates at 5, 7:30 and 11.
--
That stupid dog is in the office again today--I must say, I'm far far less entertained by its antics today. Oh, it's still supercute, that puppy--but it's all aggressive and chew-y and kind of mean. It peed on Becky's desk, and i just know it was intentional. He was so cute at first! he would wobble-run around, and then collapse in your lap for a half hour nap. Now there's just running and a weird raspy bark and chewing of cords and anything made of cardboard. Gee, can't wait to see what it craps out next.
--
Also, in that dream I had last night? I was supposed to be taking this Russian class with a girl that I work with, and we were living together. I woke up late, was running behind, and I couldn't find her anywhere...so I go in the bathroom, and she'd fallen asleep in the bathtub and drowned. With the remote control in her hand, heh.
--
I'm still debating whether or not to go to Pool Night tonight. I get a strangely tense feeling whenever I think of going. Things feel all...different this week.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:33 AM September 04, 2001
Anyway, the weekend. Here, in
Anyway, the weekend. Here, in a list:
-Ikea, where we bought dishes and a doormat (ohh, I just know there's a joke in there somewhere.)
-Bumbershoot with Dave and Quincy (who were terribly cute together)--We saw the Red Elvises, which was a terrific show, and the Old 97's, which was less terrific, and had a great deal of food whose goodness cannot be duplicated. Strawberry shortcake-goo, funnelcakes, sausages, kettlekorn...ohhh, the goodness.
-Laundry. Nothing new there. Oh wait, yes there is. I tried using that Dryel crap in an effort to reduce my drycleaning bill (christ, I sound like some sort of informercial dork)...but all it did was make my shirts smell like Dryel. They were still wrinkly as all hell. Hmmph.
-and a great deal of naked time. Ohhh yes. And we got caught by my father, who was dumb enough to come over without calling first. I'm guessing he's learned his lesson, but....*ahem*. Wow, embarassing.
Must shower and fold laundry. I'm under strict orders to not have any fun today, since Boy has to go to work, and I'm staying home...I think I'll go get my oil changed. That doesn't sound fun in the least.
Some thoroughly exciting news to brighten your first day back after holiday (via Blondie): KFC has brought back Popcorn Chicken.
All of my woes are naught. Popcorn Chicken has returned.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:38 AM September 03, 2001
A few words of warning
A few words of warning before I fall asleep (and yes, I'll talk about the weekend tomorrow. Plenty of time for that, I'm taking the day off.): Do not. Under any circumstances. Make the mistake of seeing 3000 Miles To Graceland. Please, please, save yourselves. Your eyes will burn and shrivel from their sockets upon viewing, as your heart crumbles to dust at the horror that Kurt Russell and Kevin Costner tried to pass off as a movie. Ohhh, it was awful.
But at least David Arquette got killed. Man, that was a relief. Aaaanyway, gotta sleep. Ta!
Posted by ferragamogirl at 11:53 PM September 02, 2001
Hrm. I've discovered that as
Hrm. I've discovered that as much as I enjoy enhancing our home together, IKEA is now a painful experience. Not so much because of anything we do--it's the rest of the fuckwads who are there at the same time. And also because IKEA's still not stocking the bathroom cabinet we've been waiting for. *pout*. Ah, well. We didn't waste too much time there, and we got out for under a hundred dollars--with new dishes in tow! I'm terribly thrilled about the dishes--they're lovely, a greenish-gray stoneware. Thrilled, I tell you!
IKEA had another unfortunate effect--and that was to give me a monstrous headache and make me grumpy, which sort of made the idea of a trip to the Wet Spot a no-go. Just as well, since Blondie cancelled on us, you dork. Instead of getting dolled up (I was planning on wearing my new corset, and perhaps some leather pants--boo hoo!) and going out, we (yeah, you know it's coming) stayed home. Snoogled. Watched (again, you know what I'm about to say, don't you?) X-Files. And then, for a break in routine (you'll notice I'm having issues with this routine-business-crap.), we had Midnight Breakfast! Boy went to the store and stocked up on goodness, and we had bacon, eggs and toast. And orange juice. At midnight. Followed by naked time, which I do not recommend.
No, no. Naked time, yes. Naked time after a big breakfast at midnight, perhaps not.
You know, as much as I bitch and moan about how we've developed a lot of routine behavior, and I need to get all crazy and be young and unpredictable--I'm really just full of shit, I think. I love being home with Boy. Most specifically, I love being here, in our home, together. We had a wonderful lunch yesterday, after our stop at Babeland--there's a sandwich shop called the HoneyHole (hahahahaha, that is so. funny. Seriously. A sammich shop called the "Honey Hole" two doors down from a sex-toy shop? Ha! Laugh with me here.), and we needed sustenance before heading to IKEA. Ohhh, so good are those sammiches. I'm going to make it a weekly ritual or something. They're too good to not have more often.
Anyway, it was a lovely lunch. Just us, our sandwiches and soda, and that punk-ass bitch playing pinball. Christ on a monorail, it was loud. It's okay, though--I take comfort in the idea of that guy dying from an infected safety-pin-hole in his head.
Wow, I'm evil. Yes, but that's why you love me!
Ooh! Another addition to the bliss: My darling friend has met the most wunnerful girl! And she doesn't act like a vampire in her spare time, heh.
Not that there's anything wrong with, you know, vampires. Or people who act like them (Vamp? no offense, sweets.) It's a...oh forget it.
Now, time to go play some Sims before Boy wakes up and I break the news to him--We're not driving to the IKEA in Vancouver. We're going to Bumbershoot with Evil Dave and Quincy. Eee! Double dates! Wunnerful.
Posted by ferragamogirl at 10:29 AM September 01, 2001
Happy Saturday Morning, all. Can
Happy Saturday Morning, all.
Can I just say how restless a night of sleep I had? All bloody night long, I kept waking up and thinking I'd forgotten something. First, i thought I'd forgotten to close the bedroom door--not the door from our bedroom into the hallway, but the door from our bedroom outside, onto the hottub deck. Then, i thought I'd forgotten to close the windows on my Blazer, which happens often enough--but the weather has changed for the worse, it's all stormy and gray outside. I was absolutely sure that I'd come outside and find the interior of my car completely soaked...then again, it might have been a good thing--I've been leaving the window(accidentally, of course) while the weather is nice, but then I come outside in the morning to go to work and find spiders. everywhere. *shudder* Rain might be good. Anyway, not a good night for sleeping.
Hooooooooboy. I should go do something productive.
