Archive for the 'NaBloPoMo' Category

Carpe diem

November 5, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, NaBloPoMo

“Success is due less to ability than to zeal.” ~Charles Buxton

I don’t know what’s with me lately but I’m suddenly optimistic and energized. It could be that I’ve just discovered Newcastle and now I’m wondering what else I’ve been missing. Or it could be that constant cynicism gets boring pretty quickly. Or perhaps, knowing that I’ll be spending exactly nine days in the office this month. Or that the eight pounds that mysteriously found its way to my ass has finally departed. Whatever it is I’m giddy. Instead of feeling completely powerless and waiting for the other shoe to drop, I feel this surge of awesomeness. People always have more to say when things are going poorly. When things are complete shit we look to find others to commiserate with. What if instead of being annoyingly pessimistic I was annoyingly really happy? About nothing at really, but I guess these things just happen. Now, I shall skip off and look at rainbows. Ho hum.

Avoidance tactic

November 4, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, NaBloPoMo

“I like the word “indolence.” It makes my laziness seem classy.” ~Bern Williams

I was asked the other day why it seems that I avoided speaking about Halloween all together. It’s because in my mind Halloween doesn’t exist. I enjoy Columbus Day and a rousing dose of European History more than I enjoy Halloween. The only good part about Halloween is that all candy comes in miniature sizes so when I enjoy six pull and peel twizzlers I feel like less of a fat ass. Yet despite my deep hatred of this so- called holiday, I will graciously accept invites to parties because not only do I like candy that comes in wee sizes but I also like free alcohol. Last night was no exception as I was treated to this exchange:

Him: “Where are you from?”
Me: “Sommervale”
Him: “Oh. Are you sure you’re from Sommervale?”
Me: [setting up cups for beer pong] “Yes. Why?”
Him: “Because I dated a few girls from Sommervale and you don’t seem like someone from there. They were all white trash and kind of slutty. They weren’t very classy looking”
Me: “Is that your round about way of saying that I don’t look like a slut?”
Him: “Um, yes”
Me: “Ok then. Thank you”

I really have nothing else except I’m mustering up the courage to clean up the world’s largest pile of cat puke ever. I don’t even know how one gets cat puke out of the carpet. Also, it’s not MY fucking cat and I’m thisclose to leaving it until tomorrow afternoon when The Roommate gets back. I’ll even put up a sign and streamers around it “Congratulations on completing the marathon! Here’s some cat vomit with remnants of cocoa puffs in it. Don’t forget to put your arms into it and really scrub! Love, Heather”

The awakening

November 3, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, NaBloPoMo

“A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.” ~Herm Albright

I woke up this morning not in a particularly excellent mood, but that’s what having something called a red-headed slut will do to a person. The name isn’t as disturbing as the fact that I thought it would be a super fantastic idea to drink anything with a main ingredient of Jaeger. The last time I ‘enjoyed’ – a word I use very, very loosely here – Jaeger, I ended up dry heaving at the sight of French fries. I think that wine and French fries (Pomme Frites – I’m learning!) are proof that God loves us so that I wanted to dump a plate of them down a garbage disposal, is mildly upsetting.

Anyway, I woke up and found myself full of wonder on two things 1) Whether or not there should be an age limit on the, gulp, enjoyment of Jaeger and 2) What’s with my piss poor demeanor lately? PMS can’t be an excuse for the other 24-ish days of the month.

The answers were fairly simple 1) There probably isn’t an age limit. I’m just a giant pussy who doesn’t like to feel the contents of her stomach burning. Other people are far stronger than I and can handle the taste and the smell while I’m busy trying to think of the best way to describe it other than “Smells like dying”. 2) No more piss poor attitude and petulance. Or at least no public piss poor attitude and petulance. I woke up determined to do shots of Patron only and to make the second half of my twenties a little more enjoyable than the first half. It’s like my own version of “The Secret” and here’s to hoping that it works.

One-track mind

November 2, 2007 | Filed under: NaBloPoMo, Va-cay-cay-cay, Whoopdie Doo

“Let’s not forget that the little emotions are the great captains of our lives and we obey them without realizing it.” ~Vincent Van Gogh, 1889

It takes a lot to get me excited. When most people are feeling that awesomeness of anticipation and can do nothing but wiggle around in their seats or stare at the ceiling all night long smiling, I’m curled up in the fetal position, thumb in mouth staring all night long at the ceiling muttering “Jesus, take me now.” I don’t know when I became so completely pessimistic and cynical about most every situation but I am. Instead of it being a cute quirk, it’s sad that I’m so rarely genuinely excited to the point where I can feel my heart beating whenever I think about an upcoming event. If I could put a finger on when this started happening I would probably say it became an incurable problem when I started feeling those bubbly feelings of excitement only to fall hard due to letdown later. So now I tend to go into most situations sullen and then getting warmed up to my new surroundings and adventures.

I woke up this morning at 5:10 AM for a 6:30 AM flight. I got yelled at by an 80 year old TSA attendee. It was freezing this morning and there were no spots at the airport. I kept thinking about a pair of pants I bought the other day that make me look stumpy and I busted a heel. But this morning, while waiting on the tarmac, I took out my Lonely Planet Guide to Paris. I haven’t had time to sit down and really think about next week because there were so many other things happening prior to that and all of my attention went to minor work crises and not thinking about how the Eiffel Tower lights up at night. Yet this morning, when I took out my book to find out the hours for the Lourve and yesterday when I went to look at the 10-day outlook for the weather in Paris, my heart did that thing. That thing where I can feel it beating and my body tenses up not in nervousness but with the giddy anticipation of an eight year old going to Disney World for the first time. I keep squeezing my hands into fists while bouncing up and down. I want to cover things in exclamation points and call people just to scream, “I’m going to Europe, bitches” I am so motherfucking excited right now. And it feels AWESOME.

Betty Crocker panties

November 1, 2007 | Filed under: "The Pot Licker", NaBloPoMo

“Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon.” ~Doug Larson

Unintentionally my obsession with wine has abated. After years of coming home to sit down with a glass of pinot noir, I instead come home and just sit down and get stuff done. The amount that has been going on lately has left me exhausted and the whole opening of a bottle and finding a glass and then pouring it out is daunting. Really now, I wish I could find someone to hold the glass for me and bring it to my lips when needed. There is also the minor problem of no longer being able to kill two birds with one stone. The only fermented beverage sold in a grocery store is beer and though I enjoy Magic Hat, I’m not craving it every evening. Purchasing wine now requires more than one stop and there is no walking just driving and oh my god, the indolence.

Now, instead of drinking (at home. Alone.), I sleep or cook or watch “Tell Me You Love Me” and “Dexter”. I live this new exciting life that involves television and listening to Otis Redding while whisking or leaving the house (gasp!) to go to the movies. And no worries, I’ve already promised Danielle that I would start knitting after a project I’ve been working on is completed. This bodes well for what I expect to be the most excruciating winter in seven years.

I keep a word document of all the things I’d like to make. Anything that I’d like to roll around in gets highlighted but those things are becoming few and far between. This is where all seven of you haven’t run for the door after learning how damn boring I’ve become, will come in. I need recipes. These recipes can really be anything but must cater to my pescetarian needs. Which means – and I’m sure there will be tears because of this – no bacon. Please and thank you.