Archive for July, 2007

Not a rhetorical question

July 19, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, The Great Moving Caper

  “There are no foolish questions, and no man becomes a fool until he has stopped asking questions.”  ~Charles Proteus Steinmetz

If your super cool and laid back coworker, offered you a room in her perfect locale, hardwood floor, balcony having condo. Would you say yes?

Happy place

July 18, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Mmhmm That's Right

“That’s the way things come clear. All of a sudden. And then you realize how obvious they’ve been all along.” ~Madeleine L’Engle

I had the idea to send a friend of mine sunflowers the other day, Just Because. Because she’s been having a rough go at it and flowers are always lovely to get and because though I adore her, I’m not sending her anything in a little blue box. But I’m sure that platinum would have made her forget her problems at least momentarily.

I enjoy doing things for people and friends and family if their name is Garrett and they haven’t recently threatened to punch me in the arm for entering their bedroom. I’m just that type of person who is generally nice and helpful, even if it requires me to go out of my way.

This isn’t an attempt to say “Hey, look at me, I’m fucking awesome and classy”. It’s more like, I’ve been a fucking bitch every single minute of the past six months. With very few things keeping me from wanting to remove parts of my body with a steak knife and at it’s worse, nothing keeping me from wanting to toss myself in front of a metro train. THAT’s how bad it and I can get.

It’s hard for me to be accepting of anyone’s friendship or caring during those moments because while I appreciate it, it all ends up suffocating me to a point where I shut down and disappear into my bedroom for a weekend. Only to emerge for the occasional cupcake and Trader Joe’s, while I continuously pull the “I’m fine” bullshit. This eventually turns into vitriol that I never thought I could or would be capable of and the cycle perpetuates itself until I can regain some control. I’m a person destined by neurological defect to be unhappy and during the really unhappy times, I figure I’d spread the joy of my unhappiness to others.

The other day, I mentioned to my Pal, how cruel I can be. He as diplomatic, as I have always found him to bed, and said that I’m not cruel, but that I have moments where I just become passive aggressive and get in moods and lash out. But that it’s not inherently cruel, just hurt or upset. I thought about it’s validity and that he was probably cringing while writing it out of fear that I would hop on a plane and kick his ass to fucking Florida for ever daring say that I ‘lash out’. Yet it’s true. I do. I get mean and a person who is entirely not me. And the cycle – at times – just perpetuates itself until the benzos come and well that’s (sadly?)
the only thing that can really help.

Well that and who said that money can’t buy happiness? Or at least make it easier not to feel like you’re suffocating when you pay your rent.

I think I am somewhat close to my ‘Happy Place’. It’s never perfect and every new thing presents it’s own set of problems, but I feel far better off now than I have since December (do the math). Which makes it far easier for me to reach out and want to help and to send flowers and to cuddle and hug my nearest and dearest and not want throw up when thinking of meeting 150 new people in a few days. Instead, I’m semi-content and reasonable and willing to accept things the way that they are. Not going completely overboard but just saying ‘OK’ then that’s that. Acceptance with my life and the people in it, IS my happy place.

I’m kind of a big deal

July 16, 2007 | Filed under: Just Add Alcohol, Oh The Stupidity You'll See, The District Of Columbia

“A sense of humor… is needed armor. Joy in one’s heart and some laughter on one’s lips is a sign that the person down deep has a pretty good grasp of life.” ~Hugh Sidey

Now is as good a time as any to admit that I am perpetually late. I always have been and always will be. It’s chronic and I probably should get help with my procrastination tactics and yet it just continues and manifests itself as rather flaky behavior. Thus I look like a lame ass who is easily distracted by shiny objects and is unable to tell time.

I had excellent intentions to impress Abi. Because, I presumed her to be classy and witty and she once promised to send me Trader Joe’s products, so I was hoping that if I impressed her then maybe she’d send me my beloved Macaroni and Cheese. Of course upon my ridiculously late arrival to meet her, I had to first stop and grope my best friend’s sister and then turned around and lo’ there was Abi and lo, I had failed miserably at retaining any cool points that I may have previously had with her. Truth be told I was late, I obviously am big on groping and I can’t play shuffleboard for shit.

To make matters worse, as we were departing the bar, I just HAD to stop and say hello to someone else, because I’m super important* and I generally flit my way about the city meeting and greeting and schmoozing. With a general ‘look at me! I’m fucking fantastic’ demeanor**. Actually, the person that I HAD to say hello to was Zandria. And it was on of those odd, I’ve had two beers and perhaps I’m still drunk from the night before but I swear to God, I KNOW that woman, kind of moments. I swaggered up to say hello with an abrupt “Hi, I’m Heather”. Because OBVIOUSLY, she should know who I am just by that statement. She did. We shook hands and then I saw my reflection and noted that the first impression both Zandria and Abi would have of me is a girl who wears brown tops with black flip flops and keeps her hair in some odd bird’s nest type fashion on top of her head.

So to recap: I’m late, I’m flaky, I can’t dress myself and my lord, THE HAIR.

Thankfully, some deity was looking down at me on Friday night and both Abi – who is lovely, classy and witty as hell and Zandria – who is taller than in pictures and seemed nice in the 20 seconds that I spoke to her– appreciated my oft randomness and well noted lush like qualities. And perhaps I am a fun person to meet…and you know, modest as hell.

The way I see it, despite the above faux pas, I was rather tame around these class act ladies, as opposed to the end of the evening, when left to my own devices and friends who enjoy a Miller light or Seven. Which kind of looked like this:

And that? That is what many of you have to look forward to in Chicago. I’m just going to apologize in advance.

*Borrowed from Schnozz
**For the record, I fucking can’t stand schmoozing and I’m pretty bad about it. And in addition to being perpetually late, I’m perpetually socially awkward.

In which I roll my eyes so much that they fall out of my head

July 13, 2007 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See, The District Of Columbia

“Visits always give pleasure - if not the arrival, the departure.” ~Portuguese Proverb

My last trip to DC prior to my move in 2001 was during an 8th grade field trip of which I remember very little. Not because of the amount of alcohol I consumed, because shocker I didn’t become Queen Lush until college, but because it was rather uneventful. We ate at some Mexican restaurant and stayed at a Holiday Inn with a balcony. Our chaperones taped the doors at night so that they’d know whether or not we little kidlets, had tried to escape to go to second base with the opposite sex, who were sleeping right next door.

I remember arriving and being on the metro though and busting out a mini-box of ritz crackers and having some large black woman tell me that eating on the metro was a major faux pas. Duly noted and I discontinued with my obviously tourist like behavior. Because it was RUDE and I had MANNERS.

Tuesday on the metro there was a family of 17. Not hyperbole but honest to God truth that there was a family of 17 with 9 children. The children were sitting on the floor – during rush hour – on the red line with green Starbucks straws. And with these straws they were (and I am going to use caps so that you can comprehend the absurdity of this situation) PUTTING PIECES OF CHEWED UP PAPER IN ONE END AND SPITTING THEM OUT. SPIT BALLS. ON THE MOTHER FUCKING METRO.

Seriously? Is this how children are allowed and taught to behave when visiting a new city? To throw spitballs on public transit? I don’t go to Iowa and throw spitballs on your corn farm, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t come to my hometown and throw spitballs or scream loudly or act like heathens.

I swear that tourists should be forced to register with MPD before coming into the city. That way they can be shunned and avoided at all costs before I have the overwhelming urge to beat someone because I have little kid spit juice on my new shoes.

Poor form

July 11, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, The District Of Columbia

“Lust is easy. Love is hard. Like is most important.” ~Carl Reiner

Question: in the event that a girl meets a very lovely and gorgeous man just once and then happens to see this man again fairly soon thereafter. And most recently, the man just casually catches her eye and walks up to her and strikes a conversation with this girl. Would it be in poor form for the girl to reply to his line of questioning with: “So I’ve been thinking, can I have your babies? Please?”

Is that unreasonable? At least the girl is polite in her request and adds ‘please’ at the end. Which is a sign that whatever children they do have will be equipped with good manners.