Just to clarify...
I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going to try my best to spare you all the mood swings. I'm also biting my tongue because this is a public forum and I'm in one of those moods where I'd like to read all kinds of folks their pedigrees. Since I'm not really for public humiliation (ask the infamous "Mrs. C" if that worked in her favor), I'm just going to bite my lip.
Maybe the third day is fantastic. I overslept this morning. (Thank goodness for the 60-pound lab who jumped in my bed, licked me and served as an alarm clock this morning.) I went grocery shopping last night, and I'm going to have a nice, warm pot of chili waiting for me when I get home tonight. I just have to get some corn bread mix on my way home. Yummy.
I'm going to get back to focusing on me. I have 50 pounds to lose and upper arms to make look semi-presentable before the wedding. I'm hoping to join the Y next week. It's income-based here, and I've been waiting to do my taxes. You'll remember I was quite poor last year...
And every single morning I've been spending time with God. If you've asked me to pray for you, I am. I have lots of prayers, and I hope God's listening to them. He always has before, so why would he stop now.
I'm not miserable. Did y'all know there's a new Johnny Cash CD coming out this spring? If nothing else, that's one thing to look forward to.
That reminds me. I owe all y'all a post on songwriters. I'll do that in the next day or so. Oh, and in a little bit (after I do some work here at work!) you're going to get a joke -- complete with pictures.
One4JC,
Trying2Hide, are you ready? It's a nun joke!
Better...
Today was better, but I don't want to talk. About anything. I'm not exactly the poster child for positivity today. Everything is setting me off and pissing me off, so it's just best to avoid people.
Everything I've written lately -- from IM conversations to blog posts -- sounds like an Alanis Morisette song, and I don't mean that in a good way.
Mama always said if you have nothing good to say not to say anything at all.
Arrivederci! Adieu! Hasta la bye bye!
I'm sure I'll be back soon. Remember, part of moving on was to spare you all the grief of listening to me bitch anyhow...
Today's forecast: Gloomy.
It's freezing here today. I'm going back and forth between going out and braving the cold and eating something disastrously bad for me or just sitting here at my desk never eating again. It's too close to payday to eat out, really, so I toyed with the idea of going home for lunch. And then I realized if I go home for lunch, I am climbing in my bed with a box of Kleenex and not getting out for three days. No, there is no time for a nervous breakdown, so I must soldier on. But will I do it without or without something, anything, to eat.
I'm thinking about one of my favorite quotes from Bridget Jones's Diary right now: "I choose vodka. And Chaka Khan."
I'm trying to pinpoint the exact moment when I started to stop caring. Have you ever gotten to the point where you've cared so much that you wake up one day and realize you're completely done caring? I think perhaps it is a self-defense mechanism. And frankly, it's time to put the armor on and build up the walls. It works so well for other people.
I'd much rather look like a trusty palace guard than the court jester any day.
So, yes, indeed it's a gloomy day here in frigid Tennessee. Part of me wants to dissect the whole sordid mess and retrace all my steps. But we all know there's no point in the "coulda-shoulda-wouldas" in life. The past is done, and the future is not guaranteed. All we have is today.
And today, I'd like to find my inner bitch and let her hang out for a while.
When I started this post, I was going to have some sad-sack commentary on the fundamental differences between women and men and why I'm content being single (not a sad sack at all. See!) and why I think that, for me, the concept of love is unreachable and absolutely, positively pointless. I don't mean love with friends and family. I've got that down pat. I'm full of love, which could be part of the problem.
Recently someone accused me of trying too hard to find love, and that kind of pissed me off. Because I'm never just out there looking. It's not that I wouldn't like to be married, because I think it's probably a great gig if it works. Kids would be neat, too. I just don't see that happening for me. I've never been loved unconditionally by someone in that way, and I just can't imagine anyone ever thinking that I'm worth it so much that they wanted to spend eternity with me. (And yes, most days I include myself in the list of people who don't think I'm worth it. Why would I when I've got people telling me I'm not?) I've never been first in anyone's life, and that's OK. Really, it is. There are lots of plusses to being single. But I thought it was funny that when I did find something that I thought was worth pursuing that I came off as "always looking." Hell, I haven't looked in years. Then someone stumbles into my life and I don't want to let go, and I'm "always looking." Hell, no wonder I can't figure out this love shit.
I'm not always looking. In fact, I'm never looking at all, which is probably why one of the few times I have an opportunity I don't even know that's what it is. Oops.
Sometimes in your life you just see a spark, and you feel like you should keep an eye on it and see if a fire ignites. Sometimes it does, and other times the spark just falls on the ground and goes dark. And that right there, is why it sucks. That's what makes it not worth it.
I'm just tired of the "tortured soul" routine. It's got to end. It's not very becoming, and I think I'm starting to annoy people. So, I woke up today and decided that I'll try to turn it off. We'll see how today goes. If I live, then we'll try again tomorrow.
Maybe at some point, it'll all fade off into the distance as a memory. Right now, the wounds are too fresh and the ghosts are too noisy. But I'm working on that. I decided yesterday that I need to do whatever I can to get out of the place that hashes it all back up every time I go there. Seriously, I'm fine until I have to go back to that insane hell where there are memories in every room, where things make me smile and then reduce me to tears.
If I've learned nothing else lately, it's that sometimes you just have to know when to say "when."
Color me ... ?
Andrea posted this quiz on her blog, and it's really good. I think it's pretty accurate.
I'll post about real life (including a celebrity sighting!) very soon...
you are violet
#EE82EE |
Your dominant hues are red and blue. You're confident and like showing people new ideas. You play well with others and can be very influential if you want to be.
Your saturation level is lower than average - You don't stress out over things and don't understand people who do. Finishing projects may sometimes be a challenge, but you schedule time as you see fit and the important things all happen in the end, even if not everyone sees your grand master plan.
Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.
|
| the spacefem.com html color quiz |
Car trouble and other good stuff...
So, I'm sitting here at work debating going to the Credit Union on my lunch break. I guess I will head over there in a little bit. I still need to deposit the pittance that I made last week at my favorite place in the world.
I don't think I mentioned that on Saturday night my car started to act wonky. Well, it did. But luckily all boys are smart about cars whether they think they are or not. I think that skill is encoded on the Y chromosome or something. If I had been in charge, I'm sure I'd still be stranded in Jackson. Wait -- I said that like it was a bad thing. Seriously, it's a nice town. And they have good pie.
Anyhow, my car seemed fine all the way home, and then yesterday I thought it was acting up on the way to work. I needed an oil change anyhow, so I took it to the garage across from the office. They thought I was bonkers because they never found anything wrong with it. One of my co-workers' husband is a mechanic and he told me just to watch it. But at least I didn't have to spend billions of dollars I don't have to fix it.
Then I might've felt a little foolish about driving half-way across the state in the dark to have dinner and go bowling. You know what my dad says about wracking up "senseless" miles on your car.
Good that I saved money on my car, because I went to the dry cleaners as part of "Operation Do Some Damn Laundry." Ouch. Laura's advice for the day: NEVER puke on your down comforter, no matter how much or what you drink. But that night was way fun. I love fun.
Did I mention Toma's coming to visit me Friday? Wooheeeee, I'm excited. We're going to see Mr. Bentley and various other less attractive people at the Opry on Saturday. I still haven't made it there, so I'm way excited. Seriously, though, if we were going to stay at my house and watch the nail polish on our toe nails dry, we'd still have a blast. That's just how it is when we're together.
I hear a rumor about Pancake Pantry for breakfast, too. Yummmm...
Anything else going on? Not anything that I can think of. Clarity makes me happy, and happy is good.
Song of the Day:
"Sexy Back" by Justin Timberlake. I'm loving his new CD. And I have a soft spot for cute boys from Memphis. I can't help it.
Retail humor
I got this e-mail today, and as someone who works at a store that has an awful return policy, I found this funny. Hopefully you'll all enjoy it.
KEEP this in mind when you have something to return and the store gives you a hard time -
A woman went to a K-Mart service counter and told the clerk she wanted a refund for the toaster she bought because it won't work. The clerk told her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on special.
Suddenly, the woman threw her arms up in the air and started screaming,
"PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES!!!!!!"
The befuddled clerk ran away to get the store manager in front of a growing crowd of customers.
The manager comes to the woman and asks,"Ma'am what's wrong?"
She explained the problem with the toaster, and he also told her that he can't give her a refund because she bought it on special.
Once again, the woman throws her arms up in the air and screamed,
"PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES,
PINCH MY NIPPLES!!!"
and doing so draws an even bigger crowd!
In shock, the store manager pleads,"Ma'am, why are you saying that?"
In a huff, the woman says,
"BECAUSE, I LIKE TO HAVE MY NIPPLES PINCHED WHEN I'M BEING SCREWED!!"
The crowd broke into applause and her money was quickly refunded!!
Finally!!!
You all know I love the Indianapolis Colts. So much so, that I'm pretty sure that everyone got that question wrong on my
"How well do you know me?" quiz. (Hockey, people. I love hockey.)
Anyhow, I do love my Colts. And I love Peyton Manning (although I did once try to stalk Tom Brady in Ann Arbor. It's not a proud moment.) So, today I am very happy. In fact, I might throw a little Super Bowl shindig. I have never done that because I usually don't even watch it. My team's never in it. I don't want to say Peyton's sometimes prone to choking, but yeah, ok, he chokes under pressure. But he didn't today. He brought his A-game and reminded everyone why he's the best quarterback in the history of football. And hopefully in two weeks he'll have a Super Bowl ring to prove it.
One thing's for sure. There'll be snacks and I'll be wearing my Got Peyton? t-shirt.
I must be nuts.
OK, so yesterday I had a shitty day at the Land of Misfit Toys. If I were a betting woman, I'd say it was my last day there. So, we're not supposed to use our cell phones, but I was cleaning the maintenance closet so it's not like anyone could see me. So I sent him a text and he answered it. He told me to call him at the store, which I'd planned to do before I left work, but I ended up getting busy.
I finally called him last night when I got off work. I asked him what he was doing after work, and he said he wasn't sure. Then I asked him if he was up for company. And then the next thing I knew, I was on my way down the Interstate to a town I'd never been to before to have dinner and go bowling with all his friends. (He called me in the car on the way to ask me if that was OK. Bowling, duh. Of course.)
It only takes two hours to get there. It's not a terrible drive. Anyhow, I got there and he was there, and really that's all we needed. Both of us. We never even ended up talking about what was pissing us off. We were just there. Laughing, talking, having fun. God, I've missed him so much.
We met up with his friends, and we had fun. There was lots of innuendo tossed around. His best friend and I had lots of fun and made plans to get together in Nashville. I told him he could come along, if he wanted. We'll see... Oh, and did I mention that apparently I really am the only person who's been an ignoramus all this time about his feelings for me, because one of his female friends was kind of joking with him about them getting it on, and she looked at me and apologized like he was mine and she needed to apologize, and I just shrugged my shoulders. What was I supposed to say?
I ended up coming home in the middle of the night. I wasn't tired at all, and it's obvious that he doesn't trust himself with me. I guess that's kind of nice, but I'm 100-percent game, and surely he has to know that.
When I was leaving, he gave me one of those lame-ass half-hugs like how tell the priests to give little kids now because of all the molestation charges. (No joke. The church made me take a class on it. They call them "open hugs." Regardless of what they are called, they are lame.) Anyhow, it was quite the contrast to the big giant bear hug that I got when he left Nashville a couple of months ago.
He said to me, "You're crazy for coming all this way, but I'm glad you did."
I said, "It's not that far."
And he said, reminding me why things are the way they are, "No it IS that far."
Urgghhhh... You know what else I noticed? He never says goodbye when he talks to me, even to the point of just hanging up. I guess that's a good thing. It's nice to be missed.
So, I get home and go to bed. I wake up about 5 hours later and I feel like I have pneumonia. I am still so sick, so I probably should've stayed home and rested last night, but that's what Sunday is for.
I checked my horoscope, and I found this:
Although you may feel less than practical, others may be relying on you or even demanding your assistance. Temporarily set aside your long-term dreams so you can be there for someone who needs you now. Even if you are uncertain about your effectiveness, rest assured that your efforts will be greatly appreciated.
So, we just spent the evening together, two great friends hanging out and dealing with their problems the way they always do, by simply knowing the other person is there.
Song of the day:
"My Best Friend" by Tim McGraw.
(Quite the contrast to
"Stupid Boy" by Keith Urban, don't you think?)
Cold...
I wish I didn't have to go to work today because I can't breathe. I took two Benadryl before bed, so I'm realizing that I really do have a cold, and it's not my allergies.
Carol woke me up early and asked me if I smelled something. She said the furnace was making some weird smell. I couldn't smell anything. My nose is stuffed up.
She was supposed to go to a retreat for church today, but instead she waited for the Heating and Cooling guys to come. It turns out that we have a broken part, and it's going to be $425 to fix it. But it's only been cold for 4 hours and I'm freezing, so I really don't want to think about if we didn't fix it. I'm quite attached to my fingers and feeling them is a very good thing. I have baseboard heaters in my room, but I don't want to move everything away from the wall to use them. This is why I wanted my bed under the other window, but I digress.
Oh, and while the repair guys pulled in, our mentally-unstable-redneck-from-hell neighbor stood on her front stoop and laughed at our misfortune. I should hook her up with some folks who could tell her all about knitting. She's a class act.
So, I'm cold and I have a cold. And I have to leave for work in 35 minutes, although I doubt that there will be anyone greeting me at the door to tell me I'm late this week.
And speaking of that. Yeah, I still feel the same way I did yesterday. I think it's stupid that he's all miserable and alone when I am totally willing to help him out with that. I won't let him fail. But not my call. And it sounds like he has bigger concerns than little ol' me right now. And friendship comes first. So, while my week-long rant was very cathartic, I just to be there for him. That's all it's ever been about, anyhow.
Perhaps ...
Perhaps it is really because:
- I'm too old.
- I'm too fat.
- I like the Dixie Chicks.
Well, all I can really do about that is lose weight. And having seen the bridesmaid dress I need to wear in June, I'm going to the Y tomorrow morning!
Age is just a number, and the Dixie Chicks are MY GIRLS.
That's all I got. I love neuroses. Seriously, life would be so sane and normal without them.
Sanity break
I've got plenty of work to do today, but I can't think. I'm sure it's partly because I'm battling off a cold rather unsuccessfully. I'm sure it's partly because I tossed and turned all night. But it's mostly because I want to run from the building screaming. That is, when I don't want to cry.
I know that I'm supposed to pretend that I'm strong and that I'm not upset and that I'm moving on and blah blah blah. I know I probably look desperate and pathetic, but I don't care.
You see, I have a friend who's miserable and hurting. And that hurts me. It especially hurts me because I feel like I know how to fix it, and I get rebuked. I feel like it's a matter that's no longer open to discussion.
And that sucks, because the discussion in my brain?
It never fucking ends.A big part of me believes that the answer is no because the interest is not there. Because to him, I'm not worth fighting for. I'm not worth the effort. And yeah, that smarts just a little. Every girl wants to be worth it.
A lot of me just wants to say, "He doesn't like you. There's nothing you can do about it. Move the fuck on."
But I know he likes me. Even Saturday, as pissy as I was and as much as I wanted to kick him in the balls, I knew he liked me. It's in the way his voice sounds when he talks to me (and really that's a stretch to remember because God knows the last time he called); it's in the way he acts when we're standing in the same room.
But you know what else he likes?
Success.
He doesn't fail. Or at least he doesn't try to. I've never known him to go into a situation where he didn't have a plan on exactly how he was going to win.
Trust me, I don't know if anyone can "win" in this situation. Not in the long run, anyhow. I don't know if we could make it work. No one does. No one goes into a relationship thinking it's going to fail. But most people put the need to be happy first. And sometimes you succeed in the long run, sometimes you don't. But whatever it is, it is. You just have to try. You can't walk away from something great because you might fail at it. Because at least for a little while, you might be the happiest person on earth. And let me tell you, there were plenty of late nights at the Hillwood Strike & Spare when I felt like I was the happiest person on earth. Yes, even though I was wearing shoes that thousands of people had worn before me. I tried not to think about the germs and focused my thoughts on the adorable person who was so amused by my bowling skills ... and checking out my ass in my jeans.
If you want to be happy, you have to make being happy a priority. It has to rank up there with family, friends and work. I used to be a workaholic. I used to put in 12 hour days and leave my cell phone on when I wasn't there. I used to have the highest productivity rate of anyone in my office. I went the extra mile. And at night, I went home to an empty house and ate a lean cuisine by myself watching TV. I went to sleep alone every night and did it again the next day.
And you know what? When it came time to make cuts I was still expendable. Frankly, I think they found it easier to let me go because I didn't have a mortgage or a family or even a dog. That changed my whole perspective. Not that I wish being unemployed on anyone, because it blows. But when you wake up, put your best suit on and go to work only to hear them tell you that your services are no longer required, it makes you realize that work is just work.
But in life and love, people are not so easily replaced. So, you have to focus on what's going to be there in the long run. If work makes you happy, then, by all means, dive into your work and be happy at it. But if work makes you miserable and you are still putting it first and being miserable at life too? Well, then fuck it. Don't quit, but don't let it take priority over everything else.
Maybe it's easier said than done. Maybe it's a lesson you learn as you get older. After all, it's not one I learned until I was closer to 30 than I was to 20. Of course, I haven't learned it 100% yet or I would've told Geoffrey the Giraffe to shove it a few months ago. Maybe that's why the whole thing pisses me off. The only thing worse than letting work take priority over the rest of your life and your happiness is letting a shitty part-time job you don't need do that.
I'm not saying we should all be slackers. We shouldn't. We just can't be married to our jobs.
Mostly because our jobs don't keep us warm on cold Tennessee winter nights, and isn't that the best part of being married?
Song of the day: "
You win, I win, We lose," by Kenny Chesney.
Hey, look, I'm not an alcoholic!!!!
OK, so blogthings quizzes aren't the most scientific, but I didn't lie on the questions!
| You Don't Drink Too Much |
Looks like you're a social drinker, at worst!
Keep partying, but as always, know when you've hit your limit. |
The hostility has subsided...
I'm pleased to announce that I am back to my normal self. I seem to be sober, which is good. The only real issue I have is that my sinuses are killing me.
I would also like to point out that the funk I have been in was no one else's fault. I made some bad decisions, and that's just how it is. I can't erase them now. What's done is done.
I just don't know how done it is. I guess that's something we'll learn as time passes.
They say when God closes one door, He opens another. It's always been true before, so I have no reason to believe that anything has changed. Whatever is His will is what is going to happen. Everything's part of His plan, and I should know that by now. I'm just too impatient for my own good, I think. (This could have something to do with the fact that I'm not getting any younger and I'm pretty sure that I am not
Sarah or
Elizabeth, but oh well.)
I was doing just fine before, and I'm fine again today. I guess it was all just a blip. But it was a very nice blip. I had fun. Hopefully once the dust settles I'll have a great friend. And nothing in life is guaranteed. Anything could happen.
I just can't sit around counting on that. Much like I was just doing my thing and stumbled onto something else, I just have to keep doing that.
And honestly, even though I don't believe it will ever happen, it'd be nice to be a priority in someone's life. Not to be an afterthought. Maybe if someone can't give that to me, it's nice of them to tell me up-front.
Of course, that still means I have to go to bed alone every night, which at this point is what I hate the most.
So, maybe I'm still a little melancholy, or maybe I'm just listening to
U218 Singles on iTunes. Regardless, the song of the day is
"With or Without You." By the way, does anyone hear that song without thinking of Ross and Rachel from "Friends"?
I heart PJs!!
| The PJ's You Are Most Like: Comfortable PJ's |
You're a bit conservative, traditional, and tend to follow conventions
You have an understated, easy sexyness that men love
People instantly find comfort in you, and you're a "best friend" to many. |
Thought of the day...
I hate that effing toy store.
Originally, this was going to be a big, long post, but that's all I have to say. And when I get $500 dental bills, I can't help but think I have to work there forever.
And as long as I'm there, I will think about what might've been if I'd had enough balls to just walk away from it. I will always blame myself for the time that I gave up the opportunity for something great because of a part-time job that I don't really need. I could budget better. I could give up things like whiskey, new clothes and island vacations. I could walk away from it all.
But instead, I chose to stay and someone else walked away.
Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, the song of the day is "I Can't Lie to Me" by Clay Davidson. Bobby sings this every Tuesday, and it's really an amazing song. And lately it's been reminding more of someone than
that damn Five for Fighting song.
Here's the chorus:
Well, I've got everybody thinkin' I'm superman strong
But that big ole "s" ain't on my chest at night when I get home
One look at my reflection and lonely's all I see
I can tell 'em all I'm glad you're gone
But the truth is I can't lie to me.
One person I would not want to be...
Well, there are lots of people I would not want to be, but I really would not want to be the poor soul at Blue Cross who answers the phone when I call on Tuesday. Apparently, they are refusing to pay for my anesthesia for my dental surgery. Do you think anyone at Blue Cross would have surgery without anesthesia? Because I don't think they would. They told me they would pay for it, and I'm not paying for it. It's bad enough that they aren't going to pay shit to reconstruct the tooth now that it's extracted, so they're going to pay for the anesthesia. I don't have $472 to pay for it. And if I'd have known they were going to dick me over on it, I'd have gotten my root canal before the end of last year.
I'm going to look like a toothless hillbilly forever, aren't I?
Maybe...
I had this big post planned out in my head. It was fabulous, in the way an Alanis Morissette song is fabulous. It was filled with angst, hostility and overall bitchiness. You would've loved it. Right after you made a mental note to not piss me off anytime soon.
But that moment has passed. Or perhaps more accurately, it was washed away in a flood of mango rum and pineapple juice. Speaking of which, does anyone remember me drinking the last of the coconut, because I bought Coke Zero for it and I was sad that it was gone. Am out of booze, so I'll be heading to the liquor store very soon. If I weren't so anxious to come home, put on my PJs and cry, I'd probably have gone to the bar and drank massive amounts of Crown Royal. Generally at the bar I can find someone to play Merle Haggard and Keith Whitley for me. However, today I probably would've had to deal with tourists, and I hate tourists like poision.
I'd just like to point out that I was not an asshole when I was a tourist here. I was fun. Just like I am now. Except tonight, because I am that weepy drunk tonight. Part of it might have to do with the fact that I have PMS. And no chocolate. And the fact that I've been too busy crying to drink.
I'm in a bad mood right now. The booze has erased some of the pain (and given me a raging headache), but I have a feeling that when I wake up tomorrow, I will still be pretty pissed off. I'm not sure it'll go away sometime soon.
Unlike Hemingway, who pretty much had to be lit to write, I can't write worth a shit when I've been drinking. This sucks, and I know it. My Alanis Morrissette song is buried somewhere and I don't know if I'll get it out if (yes, I said "if." What are you going to do about it?) I ever sober up.
At least I know that I can't ever be an alcoholic as long as I want to be a writer, because my brain doesn't work that way.
However, my brain did spend the whole day between telling me to cry and concentrating on when I could get home and drink, which scares the fuck out of me. I very rarely have urges like that, which is good. I don't want to be an alchololic. I don't want to go down that road. I know what my genetic make-up looks like, and I try really hard to stay aware of my drinking so problems don't arise. So, it makes me nervous when I spend a whole day concentrating on drinking. But to be fair to me, I'm not positive that I've ever needed a drink so badly before in my life.
That's not true. No one needs to drink. Maybe I'll work on that.
Or maybe that's just the booze talking.
I need to go now, and I don't know when I'll get back. I don't want to subject you all to my bitchy mood any more than necessary. I don't think you'll get the whole story either. It's not worth mentioning anyhow.
Maybe someday, maybe not ... No point in dragging anyone else into this. It's all my fault, anyhow. It always is.
Song of the day: "You Take Me For Granted" from my new favorite CD: Jones sings Haggard, Haggard sings Jones: Kickin' out the Footlights Again.
I'm sorry I can't spell right now. I just want to go to bed and make it all go away.
Until tomorrow. When it all starts up again.
So, maybe you'll get that post you want tomorrow. The liquor store will be closed...
Or maybe not?
My computer is now making some very odd noises when I turn it on. It sounds very much like it did
around the time my hard drive melted last year.
When that happened,
my computer guru friend told me that they needed to replace the broken fan that caused the overheating, the melted hard drive and the processor which probably when wacko from the heat.
Our good friends at the Carnival of Incompetence we call Hewlett-Packard Tech Support fixed the hard drive and the fan.
Me thinks the processor is finally calling it quits.
I am digging my practically worthless receipt out of the trash and calling the bozos at the "extended warranty" place this evening.
Oh, and I'm telling them that I borrowed a friend's power cord (I didn't, but mine's taped up with electrical tape) and that the connector is still bad, so they'll fix that too.
So, the laptop will be good as new. Assuming they don't do anything bad to my computer to punish me for going off on their phone support dude.
And I pray to God he doesn't answer when I call tonight. If he does, maybe I'll hang up and call back.
Or maybe I'll stay on the line and apologize for being a bitch.
Which reminds me. The
girlie phone broke. (Already. Yes, Razrs are big pieces of crap, just like everyone said, but too late now.) However, my friends at Motorola said they'd replace it because it's three weeks old and shouldn't have broken.
Unlike T-mobile, who told me it was my fault, but they'd give me a new one for $50. The guy was nice, but he told me there was "no way" it was a warranty repair. Apparently Motorola thinks it is.
Thank goodness I hadn't donated my v330 to the domestic violence shelter yet. I can't go phone-less for a 10-14 days.
The Final Chapter of the Laptop saga...
As you all know, my Compaq laptop has pretty much been a piece of shit since Day One. Aside from the hard drive failing (which HP fixed after a prolonged battle on when I purchased it. It's called a receipt, assholes.)
Anyhow, my big problem has been with Circuit City. And you know how I love to let you all know when I've been wronged by corporate America. So, with that I present:
The final chapter of the laptop saga.
And the reason it's the final chapter is because my "two-year extended warranty" is not an extended warranty at all. You see, it expires in two weeks, which is two years after I bought my laptop. That means that while I spent A LOT of money for this two-year plan, really I only got one because every time I called them in the first year, they told me to call Compaq.
This whole thing has been a nightmare. First, the idiot who sold me the computer was probably so excited that he was making a $1400 sale that he registered the computer to someone who was not me. He put someone else's name on my receipt. So it's been a complete and total bitch to even get them to talk to me.
I have the laptop. I have the credit card that was used to buy it. I have the receipt. I don't care if Santa Claus' name is on the account. It's my computer and I need you to fix it.
But that ended up not even being an issue, because they won't fix my computer. Apparently it's my fault that my piece of shit power cord has been falling apart since a couple of months after I bought my computer. The guy on the phone suggested that maybe my dog ate my cord and then he got to hear about how my dog is dead. Nice, asshole.
They'll replace a battery that it's obviously your fault if you need a new laptop battery. When I bought this bitch, I didn't think it'd run on the same battery forever. Just like my iPod doesn't or my cell phone or my TV remote or anything else. Batteries are not invincible. If you use them, they must be replaced.
So, I figured that if they'd replace a battery when it was your fault, they'd replace a power cord when it wasn't your fault.
Nope. Apparently much like it's always your fault when someone hits you and your turning left, it's always your fault when the plastic on your cheap piece of shit power cord starts to separate and the wires start to stick out.
And icing on the cake? The guy I talked to six months ago should've told me that. Because I told him the exact same thing I told Bob tonight. Of course, Bob's name probably really is Bob and he spoke English, unlike the other guy. And if that guy had told me, maybe I'd have scraped together another $100+ bucks to replace it.
Because my friend that fixes computers? He says that most likely there's a problem with the connector inside the laptop too from the stress of the defective power cord. And Bob tells me they can't fix that because my power cord is broken. (No fucking duh, Bob. Are you in Mensa?)
And I don't think the money fairy is going to help me find an extra $140 or so for a new power cord in the next two weeks, and my "extended warranty" is about to expire. So, that means when the time comes I will have to pay someone to fix the connector too.
Wow, and the people at my part-time job wonder why I never push extended warranties on the customer. They have to be the biggest rip-off in all of America. I feel dirty when I sell one. Because they don't fix shit. Even if they say they are great; they are really not worth the paper they are written on. None of them.
Anyhow, the saga on the laptop has concluded because there is no time left for these assholes to fix anything, assuming that anything was covered.
Although maybe in a few days I'll call them and tell them I need a new battery. I don't, but I could probably sell it on Ebay to get the money for my power cord.
But I know for sure I won't be buying my power cord from Circuit City. Because -- God as my witness -- if I EVER go in there again, I want my legs to develop some ailment and fall off my body. If I had my receipt, I'd return the $19.99 DVD I bought there last week.
So, if you need a new computer, just get a Dell. Don't fuck with the retail outlets. The Dell guy will come right to your house, even if you have a laptop. And you can bet your ass if I'd called Dell about this power cord, they'd have sent me a new one -- no questions asked. I know this because I accidentally stuck a paper clip in the disk drive of my boss' laptop -- 100% my fault -- and they sent me a new one. And I told them what I did and offered to pay for it.
Actually, now that I think about it, it just might be time to switch back to Macintosh. I forgot how much I loved them until I got my iPod.
Whatever my next computer is (and I hope I have to get it later than sooner), you can bet your ass it won't be from Circuit City.
Anyone know how to shut it off?
So, I did it. I figured that I had absolutely nothing to lose, and I laid it all out on the line. I told him every single crazy thought that has run through my head. I figured that even if I didn't get the answer I wanted, I'd know where I stood. I'd have closure and not have to worry about the what-ifs.
I guess that's how it works in a perfect world.
And we all know there's nothing perfect about my life.
The answer was sweet. I know it was sincere. And it didn't really solve anything.
You see, he likes me. In a perfect world, I'm sure we'd live happily ever after.
(You remember that this world's NOT perfect, right?)
He can't do it. He says he's thought about it, and realistically he knows that he can't put in what's needed to maintain a long-distance relationship.
I guess that's fair. Not everyone does the long-distance thing very well. Of course, I also think he greatly overestimates my neediness in a relationship, because as long as there's love (and some -- ahem --
other stuff) when we are together, the details are pretty much irrelevant. Sure it'd be nice to just have dinner together on a Tuesday, but I don't need a man up my ass 24-7. I have always done well with long-distance relationships for two reasons. 1) I hate feeling like I'm part of a couple every second of my life and 2) The time when you are together is special. And even if your date isn't "exciting" by other people's standards, the fact that you have to make every second count makes it precious.
But it's not for him. That's OK. I could make the argument that two hours isn't really long-distance. Especially for a Detroiter who spent that much time getting to work everyday. And when I was in Ohio, everyone had a two-hour relationship because there weren't any towns between here and there. Of course, here in Tennessee, people who live in Franklin talk about Downtown like it's effing Afghanistan. Seriously, no one leaves their little areas. It's kind of weird.
So, what's next? Am I supposed to just get over this fantastic man who likes me too? I'm just a tortured victim of timing and geography. How exactly is that supposed to work? I think we've had this conversation before about shutting off our feelings like a bathroom faucet. Has anyone figured out how to do that since our last discussion? Please let me know if you have.
I can't apply logic and practicality to my emotions. Maybe that's what makes me a girl. If I could, I'm pretty sure I never would've fallen for my boss, whom I knew was leaving and going back to living two hours away. I can't just turn it off like a bathroom faucet. Maybe I could've if he would've told me that he didn't like me that way and didn't want to date me. Because you can't make someone see you that way if they don't.
I guess I'll just put it up on that closet shelf with all the other boxes. If it's supposed to happen all the pieces will fall in place.
Or maybe one day he'll realize that whoever that convenient girl he ends up with isn't me ...
Are there hoodies in heaven?
This post is just too hard to write. But I feel bad not giving y'all an update.
My dad called me yesterday as I was leaving work. Our neighbor found Sparky near his house. He'd been hit by a car. They buried him under his favorite tree.
I cried and cried and then I listened to "Sing Me Back Home" by Merle Haggard and cried some more.
I hope that St. Peter met Sparky at the Pearly Gates with a new hoodie. Maybe a UT one, because I could never find one in his size at the store.
When I got home, Joseph (the dog we're fostering here) wouldn't stop barking and I just couldn't take it. I just didn't want to be reminded. He's doing better today. It's like he knows.
He may be getting adopted. And I kind of hope he is, because there's a little Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix at the vet who needs a home. Needless to say, I'll snatch her up.
I hope that Sparky has all the treats he could ever want and like Kay said, an electric dog bed to keep him warm because in heaven he won't get electrocuted if he eats it.
If I do this get new doggie, I'll have my mom mail me the bandanna I bought Sparky for Christmas that I never got to put on him. It had sparkles on it, because that's what I called him.
He hated when I put clothes on him, but he looked so damn cute.
You never know...
... what'll set people off.
I was just checking out my nifty site meter, only to see that several of my favorite stalkers have stopped by today. Since they rarely have an independent thought (and because some of them arrived via e-mailed links again!), I am wondering what exactly I've said to precipitate a visit to my little home on the Web.
Oh, who knows? It could be anything. Maybe they're all waiting with baited breath to learn of Sparky's whereabouts. Oh, wait a second. That would mean that they had hearts. I'll work on a new theory.
Actually, I won't. Because I still don't care. I'd kind of hoped maybe they'd make a New Year's resolution to be less stalker-ish, but apparently not. Oh well, sucks to be them. (It would suck to be them even if their lives weren't reduced to Internet stalking, but that does add a bit to the pathetic factor.)
However, they do allow me to segue into mentioning an exciting new development here in BlogLand. So see, they have
some value, albeit limited.
Starting this week, I'm going to do a post on the searches that people do to end up at my blog. You'd be surprised some of the things people type into Google that allow them to arrive here. It's actually kind of fun. I'll see if I can do screen caps, but if I can't then I'll just have to type it. But it will be hilarious.
Or at least I find it funny. Y'all might think it's dumb. But that's a chance I have to take.
Oh, and since I forgot it earlier, today's song of the day is
"Absolutely (Story of a Girl)" by Nine Days.
So, I think I'm just going to cry...
I haven't really been myself lately. I'll blame a little bit of it on the massive amount of drugs I've been taking. Or maybe the pain that I have when I can't take the drugs. Or maybe because I'm on the drugs I can't mask the pain with Crown Royal, like I'm so fond of doing. Or chocolate. Or Merle Haggard songs.
(Well, I could self-medicate with chocolate and Merle, but I did start my diet on Monday. Aside from running for two hours that day and eating breakfast, that's not going very well either.)
I'm probably hormonal, and I still haven't managed to find a new doctor, make an appointment and get back on the drugs that help with those imbalances. (God knows I don't need them for anything else. They're like a really expensive Tic-tac for PMS.)
So, I'm a tad bit melancholy. Of course, if you read my last post, you probably know that. If you've talked to me in the last week, you may have figured it out, too.
Aside from drugs and pain and realizing once again that men are only good for one thing (although, see above, because apparently for me they're not even good for that.), I'm also depressed because of something else that I haven't mentioned here yet. Andrea and Kay are the only people here who know. And quite frankly, I guess I probably hadn't mentioned it out loud because I wanted it to not be true. I'm very good at denial, in case you're new to my blog. (Also explains the whole man thing, but really I'm done with that for now.)
My beloved pup Sparky is missing. And I blame myself. And he's probably not coming back and all I want to do is cry.
Sparky has been with me since the day that I started this blog a year and a half ago. He wandered into my life suddenly, warmed up to me quickly and ultimately that's why he's gone. He was still staying at mom and dad's, although I debated bringing him back to Nashville when Dawson left our house. However, he helped dad with the farm, so he stayed there. I even tried again on Christmas, and dad wanted to keep him. Who could blame him? He's precious.
But apparently Sparky missed me as much as I missed him, because when I left Tuesday he followed my car to the end of the road. And no one's seen him since. I don't know if he's lost, stolen or if he's been hit by a car. I just know he's gone, and it's killing me because I'm 450 miles away and can't do anything.
And, that's just one more reason that I want to cry.
If I didn't have plans this evening, it would so be me, my new Merle Haggard CD, a bottle of Crown and a bag of Hershey's kisses huddled up in my bed.
And if y'all could pray for Sparky, wherever he may be, I'd really appreciate it.
Cheap Sunglasses
I bought my favorite sunglasses for $5 at Wal-mart last spring. They aren't anything special, but I think I look nice in them. They're also dark enough that my eyes don't hurt, which is a big thing for me. I don't know if it's because my eyes are blue or because my retinas will probably some day be completely useless, but my eyes need dark sunglasses. If I go out without my sunglasses, the chances of me ending up with a migraine are very, very good. And driving without them is pure disaster.
So, leaving them behind somewhere is almost unheard of.
I don't remember what happened exactly on the day in question. I do remember it was a Sunday at the Land of Misfit Toys. It was still summer. And something pissed me off. I couldn't tell you what it was right now, but I was mad enough to not come back at lunch time.
I called Kay and bitched. I hemmed and hawed and stewed over whatever greivance I'd had. For the first time (but not the last, of course!), I was pissed enough to quit. And, in fact, if it weren't for the fact that my favorite sunglasses had been left on my desk, I probably would not have returned that day.
At the time I was not thinking that I could've replaced them for $5 at Wal-mart. At that point in my life, most likely I didn't have the $5 to replace them. So, instead, I returned from my lunch and went home at the end of the day with my sunglasses on my face.
Those sunglasses came to represent a lot more than the $5 pair of Wal-mart sunglasses that they were. They represented a turning point in my life. They represented the frustrations of my job at the Land of Misfit Toys. They represented what I've overcome to finally be successful in Nashville. And most recently, they represented a little bit of destiny.
Recently Kay told me about this singer David Nail, and introduced me to his song "Some things you just know." Basically this song is about crossing that imaginary line that's drawn with your friends. You know, when you accidentally fall in love with them? And sometimes you just know, and you go with it. And it changes everything, but it all works out because it's supposed to.
Not that I could relate to that at all. And actually, looking at the last week or so of my life, I'm guessing that my life is actually the opposite of this song. I'm not so good at reading all the signals; that must be why I sucked ass at softball.
Anyhow, there's a line in this song about "You're quick not to take any credit; fate brought us here."
And do you know what I thought of the first time I heard this song?
Those cheap Wal-mart sunglasses.Because if I'd left them, if I'd left the Land of Misfit Toys that day, October never would've come. And I never would've met the little tornado that turned my life upside down for two months. I told him the story of my favorite sunglasses every time I got frustrated about working there.
It wasn't until he left that I realized how much I owed to those sunglasses. Because the time that he's been in my life has been great. I can't say I wouldn't change a thing, because there are lots of things I'd change. For example, he wouldn't have been my boss if I'd called the shots. Or I would've just quit when I realized that it was an issue. Of course, it wasn't really an issue, because I'm pretty sure I was just one of the boys, like I always am. Or maybe I should've just made it worth getting fired over. Because trust me, nothing really happened that was worth getting in trouble.
The sunglasses broke. The little tornado seems to have lost steam. Or at least all's quiet on the Western front lately. I can't figure out if I'm supposed to say something or just leave it be. The poster child for bad self-esteem in me suspects that he's shutting me out so that I'll just go without a fight. That's not what I want to do, but sometimes silence says a lot. I'd like to believe he's just busy, but no one I cared about has had surgery and I've been too busy to at least text and make sure they were alive. The girl in me who reads way too much into everything wants very much to believe that maybe he's confused too and that's why I've been shut out.
Ironically, while I'm typing this, the song "Boston" is playing on my iPod. Some of you will know why that makes the tears fall. Do I just walk away, assuming the worst? Or do I fight for the first thing I've really wanted in a long time, knowing that the chance of completely and totally humiliating myself is very real?
Maybe the sunglasses breaking was a harbinger of things to come.
Or maybe all they ever were was a cheap pair of sunglasses, and nothing more.
