Archive for January, 2011

Alan! Alan! Alan!

For the first time in what seems like weeks, the sun actually came out today. (I know this because I now have an office with a window! Yippee!) I was hoping it would do something to help with the SAD I’ve been suffering lately, but so far, the only thing that’s seemed to help is this video my good buddy V sent to me. What could possibly be funnier than animals with British voiceovers? Nothing, that’s what. And so I’ve taken to watching it about 3-4 times a day now for the last couple of days. It helps. Particularly the beatboxing chipmunk. It also helps when V and I walk into meetings yelling, “Nightime….DAYTIME! Nightime…DAYTIME!” Who doesn’t love a good game of Nightime/Daytime?

Hey, whatever makes you happy, right?


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I Wonder…

…if wearing baggy pants to work will make people think I’ve lost weight.

…if Elijah Wood still has my fan letter from 1994. (Hey, it’s possible. Boy George just autographed an album for a fan, 10 years after he made the request.)

…if people actually notice (or care) when other people change their Twitter backgrounds.

…if there’s a way to train myself to read faster. I have too many books on my to-read shelf and not enough time.

…if people catch me singing in the car as often as I catch them picking their nose.

…how much longer it will be before we see an obituary for Charlie Sheen. That guy is a mess. (Which reminds me, did anyone see last night’s episode of Two and a Half Men? Did you happen to catch Chuck Lorre’s vanity card? Genius.)

…what it would be like to spend a day with Jim Parsons.

…what won’t Meat Loaf do for love?

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(Mom, you might want to skip this one. Profanities abound. You’ve been warned.)

I hate the cold. Like, really fucking hate it. I hate it so much that I get angry at it, as if it’s another human being with feelings and shit. On my way out of the office today, I bundled up WITH PURPOSE. I’ll show this Winter who’s boss, I thought. I’m not going to meekly run across the street and shudder under my scarf and coat, hiding from the icy wind. I’m going to walk, calmly, like a fucking adult, and get in my car and drive home. Stupid cold. Stupid winter. I won’t let it get to me.

And so that’s what I did. And I felt all bad-ass about it too.

Even though it had snowed all day, I had an appointment after work (with Helga from the House of Pain, but I’ll get to that) that the chicken-shit me would’ve typically canceled because, “OMG, what about all the SNOW! And WIND! And BLACK ICE! Well no, I don’t know if there’s ice, because it’s BLACK like the ROAD and you can’t SEE IT but OMG DANGER!” But I kept my appointment. Partly out of spite (I’ll be DAMNED if I’ll let winter dictate my plans! I fucking hate winter.) and partly because it was my sixth and final (Hallelujah!) laser hair removal appointment and I was desperate to get it over with.

After the confrontation I had just had with Winter, feeling like I just pwned Winter’s ass, I was feeling pretty confident and so I started to psyche myself up for my date with Helga and her laser of doom. I thought about how she would crank up the laser’s intensity to its maximum setting, ensuring that I would get a taste of that fetid burnt hair smell. (God, I hate that smell.) I thought about that cold, ultrasound jelly crap she smears on my armpits followed by the needle-like stinging of the laser as it burns past my skin, deep down into the hair follicle, singeing it dead. I can take it, I thought. In fact, I deserve it. Bring it on, Helga!

Well Helga brought it. And, you guys? Remember when I told you about my very first treatment? That was fucking CAKE compared to tonight. With each zap of Helga’s laser, I muttered curse words under my breath ala Joe Pesci from Home Alone. Sure, I knew what to expect so the shock of the pain wasn’t there, but this time, I had to ask for ice packs when she was done with me. ICE PACKS.

Now if you’ll recall, I also paid for treatment of the bikini area. Yeah…. there’s no fucking way I was letting her come at my lady bits with her firey laser of doom. So I came up with an excuse. I said, “Oh hey, ya know, I’m good down there. Really. No more hair.” “Are you sure?” she asked. Shit! She knows I’m lying! Lie HARDER!! “Totally sure. It’s the craziest thing. I used to grow hair there but now, it’s like I’ve got mange of the vagina or something. No hair at all! Totally bald! Really! I guess the earlier treatments worked. So, um, yeah, we’re good.”

Alright so I panicked. And Helga isn’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box so my story worked. Either that or she was tired from a long day of lasering other women’s lady bits and figured what the hell, what’s a few more pubes in the world? Thank you for your pity, Helga.

If I had any sense of pride when I walked in that building tonight, it was gone as I lay topless on the table with Helga rubbing an ice-cold roller over each of my armpits. I mean, I know it wasn’t our first time together or anything, but I still would’ve liked to have gotten to know her a little better. I don’t even know her last name! Oh well, we’ll always have the House of Pain, Helga.

Anyway… So after a few minutes of Helga icing up my pits  (ah, there’s a phrase that will bring in the Google-search-weirdos) she let me have two ice packs to take home. Now I’m not sure of many things in life, but I’m fairly certain I was one of the only people in the state of Missouri that drove home in 15 degree weather in the middle of January with ice packs under her armpits. I felt so… special.

The angry fight in me was gone. I had gone into nursing-my-wounds mode after the ass-kicking from Helga. All I could think was, “Ah this ice pack feels nice. But this packaging is a little pokey for my tender skin. I need something…lighter.” So when I finally got home, after sending my husband off to buy an emergency bottle of wine, I took off my jacket and stepped outside in my sleeveless shirt, raised my arms, and let the cold wind soothe my burning skin. I just stood there, eyes closed thinking, “Ooh, soooo cold. Sooo soothing. Sooo wonderful.” My guard was down. Just then a little, tiny voice piped up and asked, “So you’re saying you LIKE the cold?” And before I realized what I was saying I replied, “Yes. Like. Cold. Feels. So. Nice.”

And then Winter said, “A-HA! Gotcha. You love me.”

Shit. That tricky bastard.

I fucking hate the cold.

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A Year in Review

Looking back on 2010, it was filled with a lot of ups and downs for me.

January started out strong. I was working out, discovering the genius of Chuck Lorre, and the hubs returned to college AND got a new job, which meant no more traveling for him. Hoo-ray.

February the hubs and I enjoyed carpooling to work and lunches together, and we started planning our next vacation – Kauai, Hawaii.

In March, I got sick. A lot. At the end of the month, we went on vacation and spent the first few days of April in Hawaii. Apparently all I did in April was look at our vacation photos and blog about them.

May was our four-year anniversary and my 28th birthday. BFD.

June we went to a wedding in Denver and took a weekend trip to Kansas City. I also went to yet another Dave Matthews Band concert, making it something like the 6th DMB concert for me. I also started laser hair removal treatments, which I’m certain was God’s way of torturing me for something horrible I must’ve done in a past life, like rip the heads off of baby rabbits or something equally awful. That shit hurts.

July my in-laws came to spend a week with us. Hoo-ray. Then my husband quit his job and we made the life-changing decision to move to North Carolina. So we did a whole bunch of stuff to our house before putting it on the market at the end of the month.

August the hubs quickly got another job in N.C. and moved while I stayed behind to sell the house and start the process of transferring with my job.

September the house still did not sell. I made a couple of trips to North Carolina and together we visited Myrtle Beach and Charleston for the first time. I also hopped a plane to the in-laws for my husband’s surprise 30th birthday party.

October I apparently made lists and thought about cake, looking at my blog history. In reality, I found out a transfer was really not in my best interest for work so I was struggling with the decision of whether or not to stay in STL for my job, or look for something else in N.C. The hubs was still in North Carolina and I was still sitting in a house for sale that no one wanted. Much reconsidering this month.

November was stressful. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t sleeping. My face looked like I’d stepped in a bee’s nest. Life is so unfair and woe is me and etc. I no longer wanted to move. The hubs quit his job in North Carolina and moved home just in time for Thanksgiving. I did, however, manage to get a raise at work. So that was awesome.

December was a struggle to return to normalcy. Getting used to living with someone again when I’d been living by myself for the last few months. Then the whole last half of the month was spent with family. Almost every waking second of it. First my mom for about a week, then joined by my step-dad for almost another week. Then we went and stayed with the inlaws from Xmas eve until New Years Day. You won’t find any blog posts because I didn’t want to write about it. BUT! I will share with you this awesome video of my nephew quoting the timeless classic, “Talladega Nights”. We may or may not have bribed him.

Let’s just say, I’ve never been so happy to see a year end.

Then again, 2011 hasn’t been all that great so far. I’m fighting the post-holiday depression, my husband is still job hunting, and I started my first week back in the office with a cold. Hoo-ray again. I’m also depriving myself of breads/grains, dairy, sugar, and artificial sweeteners 6 out of 7 days a week now, (part of The Four Hour Body plan) and it’s making me a LEETLE bit stabby. I do, however, now have a new, sweet corner window office at work with a view of downtown STL and Busch Stadium. It’s nice to know whether or not it’s snowing/raining/sunny/cloudy/etc. without having to look it up on the Internet.

Are you happy to see 2010 end? Or was it your favorite most bestest year ever? If it’s the latter, I don’t want to hear from you.  (Just kidding!) (Not really. STFU.)

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