My little corner of the world where I ramble about life and a whole lotta nothing. When I started I wondered if folks read this stuff, and it turns out they do. I think that's pretty freaking cool...Grab a beer, pull up a chair and take a peek into my world.
So, Keith and I went to get our tattoos today. The guy was really nice and he have me a lot of advice, although it's going to have to be bigger than I'd planned. However, it's going to be really cool.
I just have to free my schedule up, because I have to have a break in the action where I can go two days without wearing pants.
I'll have to manuever my schedule to make that happen. As the tattoo artist said: You'll have it for the rest of your life so what's it matter if it takes a few days to get it scheduled.
I thought it was very funny that I had to pencil in some time that I could go without pants. I sent someone a text message telling him all about it.
Why? Because now he can think about me without pants for two days. He started it by making me look at naked pictures.
Making me. I crack myself up.
In a totally unrelated update, I have killed my iPod. It's official. It now has the frowny face of death. Since it's pretty much ruined regardless, I may see if I can convince my favorite geek to let me send it to her so she might take a peeksie and see if there is a fix other than replacing it. I'd like to think there has to be. I only dropped it once, and I can hardly believe that'd completely kill it.
Word on the street is that perhaps the cable that hooks the hard drive to the rest of it may have come undone. But damned if I know how to fix it. The local Mac place said they'd take a look for $30, which they'd apply to any repair bill but rumor has it that they suck, so I guess I'm back to begging the geek for mercy.
On the plus side, I'm getting plenty of hours at the Land of Misfit Toys. I have no life, but if I had time to spend money, I'd be good as gold. I will have to take two days off to not wear pants and all...
I don't think I've ever mentioned exactly why I have a thing for daisies. I'm sure most of you don't know that to this day, I have an aunt, uncle and a cousin who call me "Daisy." Daisies are my favorite flower, and I've always said if I get married my bouquet will be daisies and white and yellow roses. If someone ever did want to send me flowers -- I'm not holding my breath -- daisies would be an excellent choice. I mentioned that yesterday, too, didn't I?
But why Daisy? Why such a random nickname? And why did a totally random nickname become a huge part of my identity?
It was a totally random thing, so it's kind of funny now. Maybe I'm partly thinking about it because of the daisy sale e-mail I got yesterday, but I think part of it has to do with the fact that I'm hoping to get a tattoo tonight, and it's not going to be a daisy. I always thought it would be. It's been at least 10 years that I've wanted one, because Mike was the one who told me not to do it.
The Daisy thing came from the Dukes of Hazzard television show. My brother and I watched it every week. My brother, you'll remember, is named Luke. My uncle Mike called him "Luke Duke." So, if he was "Luke Duke," and I was his sister, then I must be "Daisy," right?
My Uncle Mike and my Aunt Foo and their kids have called me Daisy ever since. When I was in high school and worked at a store Aunt Foo (her real name is Josephine, and I have no idea where "Foo" came from), stopped by and asked if Daisy was working. They told her there was no Daisy working there, and she called my mom to see what happened.
My Uncle Mike, to this day, I don't think knows my real name. I called once to their house and I said "Uncle Mike, this is Laura."
Dead silence.
Finally, realizing he had no clue after 25 years who Laura was, I corrected myself. And then I heard, "Hey, Daisy, how are you doing?"
I think daisies are beautiful. And even though it's a silly nickname that only three people call me and I'm really not cute enough to pull it off in real life, I've always identified with it. That's why I've always had the idea of a daisy tattoo in the back of my mind.
Daisy Duke has come and gone, even though Jessica Simpson did her best to obliterate all happy memories I had of her in that Dukes movie. We'll politely mention Daisy was a brunette, and not comment on the rest.
I've gotten in the habit of linking to my favorite blogs here on my MySpace blog. I am not a huge fan of MySpace (I started really using it because someone told me that it was easier to click on my picture than remember an address when e-mailing me), but I do have friends there who try to get over here once in a while. So, when there's something worth stopping by, they do. But the comments they leave usually end up over there.
Yesterday, Myke read the post about the flowers and mentioned the song "A Daisy A Day," which I hadn't heard in years. It is a beautiful song. And once again, I'm left to dream that someday a man will feel that way about me.
Here are the lyrics:
A DAISY A DAY Written by Jud Strunk
He remembers the first time he met her, he remembers the first thing she said, He remembers the first time he held her and the night that she came to his bed. He remembers her sweet way of sayin' "Honey has somethin' gone wrong?' He remembers the fun and the teasin' And the reason he wrote her this song.
I'll give you a daisy a day, dear I'll give you a daisy a day. I'll love you till the rivers run still and the four winds we know blow away.
They would walk down the street in the evenin', and for years I would see them go by And their love that was more than the clothes that they wore could be seen in the gleam of their eye. As a kid they would take me for candy and I'd love to go taggin' along, We'd walk holding hands to the corner And the old man would sing her his song. I'll give you..... He walks down the street in the evenin' and he stops by the old candy store, And I somehow believe he's believin' He's holdin' her hand like before. For he feels all her love walkin' with him And he smiles at the things she might say Then the old man walks up to the hill-top and gives her a daisy a day. I'll give you a daisy........
I'd missed talking on the phone until I started to doze off.
I think that Oscar winner, Nobel prize nominee, former Vice President Al Gore will run in 2008. So do pundits, so stop laughing at me. He's what America needs.
I'm starting to get used to my medicine.
I have to go to the dentist tomorrow and get a filling and fitted for my denture for the gaping hole in my mouth. When did my body start to fall apart? However told me things started going south at 30 was not lying.
I'm getting lots of hours at the Land of Misfit Toys, and even though I wish I had a social life, I could use the extra money with vacation and Lance's wedding coming up.
I can't wait for Kay to get here so I have a permanent drinking buddy.
I'm getting my tattoo on Tuesday. I think Keith's getting one too.
This is the actual ring I just bought on Ebay today. It looks exactly like my old one, which I loved.
And apparently it's already working...
I'm doing much better today. And not just because I got to hear Zac Hacker sing "Lady," see Blake Shelton sing "Don't Make Me" and got some love from Chris Young.
I just realized that life will be OK. And that rocks.
One of my favorite new country singers, Chris Young, was at Nashville Star tonight. We had a great time hanging out with him after the show, and he did get a kick out of my story about when I went to buy his CD and got another case of iTunes ADD and bought The Essential Keith Whitley instead. We totally had a moment when we got our picture together, and I'll be sure to post it when I get it even though I'm sure I'll look like a big loser. I think I may even beg off Easter weekend in Floridaaaaa so that I can go to his show in Jackson. And then to Perkins. I love pie.
Anyhow, I think I've mentioned before that I am not so picky about men as long as any potential suitor will slow-dance with me to Keith Whitley. That right there is what it's all about.
So, I love Chris' new song because there's actually a line about girls who like to slow-dance to Keith Whitley. And the more I listen, the more I realize that it's totally my resume for the perfect man. So, if you'd like to date me, just read the lyrics to "You're Gonna Love Me" by Chris Young.
And if you read it and have a single friend who fits the bill, send him my way!
If you like a man who You can put your trust in You don't have to worry Where he's been Then rest easy Girl, you're gonna love me
And if you like to slow dance To ol' Keith Whitley Long Sunday drives out In the country I'm your cup of tea Girl, you're gonna love me
Come and rest your head against my chest 'Cause I'm the one for you You don't have to look no more Your search is through
So girl if you like a handful Of fresh wild flowers A back rub on a bad day Talkin' for hours I'm good company Girl you're gonna love me
Come and rest your head against my chest 'Cause I'm the one for you You don't have to look no more Your search is through
So girl if you like a big heart That's in this for the long haul Till we're rockin' on the front porch And they're callin' me papaw Till the last breath you breathe Girl you're gonna love me
Before I left my last job, the great girls who worked on my team gave me a moonstone ring. They told me that it would help me with weight loss, but just give me a general positive energy. I figured I needed all the help I could get, and I wore the ring all the time with my claddagh.
But the thinner I got, the bigger the moonstone ring got, and I tried to keep it on as best I could. I had a lot of great things happen in my life while I had the ring and it was very pretty, even if you didn't believe in the healing power of the crystals.
One day, during the really great parts of 2006, I realized that I'd lost my ring. I looked all over the house but never did find it. I suspect that it ended up in someone's sack at the Land of Misfit Toys during the holiday rush.
Obviously when we think about my life in November versus my life now, the moonstone wasn't hurting anything. I need to get back where I was. I want to be happy. I want someone to talk to on the phone and to crack jokes and to go places with me. I just miss the fun. I miss being so excited when my phone rang or when work was wrapping up because afterward we were going bowling or out to supper or something else. I don't have that anymore. I don't need a man to be happy. For the most part, I'm very happy right now. But there are things that I need a man for, and I'd like to do some of those things.
After all, I am an old lady and all.
So, I ordered a new moonstone. I think life was better when I had one. And besides, even if it's all hooey, they're still really pretty.
So, I took my new medicine the doctor gave me today. I now feel like there are creepy crawlies all over me. Apparently it's supposed to make me dizzy, but allegedly I'll get used to it.
However, I don't think I will. You see, I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life on this medicine.
And this is what I learned about it:
You can't be pregnant on it. Not that I am, but I'm only 30 years old and I haven't given up on the dream just yet. It's not like I have an arm growing out of my forehead or anything. Although sounds like with these meds, my kids could.
Oh, and what are two of my favorite things to do? Drink and go tanning.
Yet I'm on a drug where I'm supposed to seriously limit my alcohol intake and avoid tanning beds.
For the rest of my life? Are you fucking kidding me?
This just isn't going to work out. I can't do this every day forever. Not going to happen. And I love how it has a big old list of really shitty side effects and then it says: Remember that your doctor has prescribed this medication because the benefit to you is greater than the risk of side effects.
I still don't think I'm sick. I felt fine until I took this medicine that's supposed to help.
I just feel like maybe I should take my chances. I know that's bad, but I just don't think I can do this for the rest of my life. Yeah, tanning and drinking are bad for me. But I really haven't gotten past the "Don't get pregnant or breast-feed a baby while on this medicine." I'm not 70 years old, I'm 30.
Oh, and my road-trip buddies: This little orange pill is supposed to make me go pee even more than I already do. Sorry!
I just hate all of this. I needed one more thing to make me feel like an old lady.
I need to just go to sleep so my skin doesn't feel like it's crawling.
I'm having a shitty day today. A 15-minute check-up at the doctor turned in to 4 hours of tests. Now I'm dreadfully behind at work and an emotional mess. So really, there's no time to write right now.
I'm not going to the Land of Misfit Toys today because I need some time to let all this sink in. If it weren't for the fact that I am buried under a mess or work here, I'd have just gone back to bed.
I'll probably talk about it more later, because I'm scared and I'm going to need to talk. Although it's still really slow getting words to come out on paper the way I want them to right now.
I've been thinking about all the bullshit that I've subjected everyone to lately, over stupid shit that doesn't matter. That's not very fair of me. True other people weren't fair first, and that's why I've been hostile lately, but that's just how it is. Life's not fair.
It could be worse, though. Believe me.
At least as long as your life sucks, you still have one. I just need to figure out to stop worrying and stop stressing myself out. It's never happened before, so I'm not really sure I can conquer it anytime soon. For me, not worrying means not caring, and I'm just not sure if I need to add apathy to my list of issues.
I'm alive. Apparently that's a good thing. And hopefully that trend will continue for quite a while. The doctors seem to think it will. Yay, doctors. I could be much sicker, so I guess I'm getting off easy.
My new medicine makes me feel weird, and I don't want to take it.
I don't want to take any medicine, because I'm thirty-fucking-years old and way too young for this shit.
I hate that I feel like I'm all alone right now. I hate that I feel like I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life. I just want someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be OK. I hate that I feel like we're expending a lot of money, time and energy to prolong a life that's been subpar to say the least, with no signs of improving anytime soon. I know that sounds awful. It's not like I have a brain tumor or anything, but when the doctor was talking to me today, I couldn't help but wonder who'd really miss me if I had a heart attack at 40 years old. I don't have kids, I don't have a spouse. Hell, I don't even have a dog. And I know I need to live for me, but frankly I've never really been that impressed. I'm getting old, and lately that reality has hit me like a ton of bricks. I'm not going to have the big family I always wanted to have. I've never going to be thin. I feel like I woke up one day and I've totally fucked up my life and now I'm realizing that it actually is finite, and age is more than a fucking number. There are certain windows of opportunity, and they are closing right before my eyes. And there's nothing I can do to stop it, because there is no fountain of youth. Or a fountain of thin or a fountain of love, for that matter...
I hate that I sound like a big whiny bitch right now even though my problems are not nearly as bad as other people's. But, you know what, they're my problems. And I'm scared shitless, and I don't know what to do. I feel really shitty, and it seems like as soon as things start to get OK they aren't OK anymore.
Frankly, I just need to have a drink, get laid and smoke a cigarette. Thank goodness I have some whiskey at home, because the chances of me getting laid are pretty freaking laughable, and I'm permanantly off the cigarettes. Doctor's orders.
On the plus side, I've completely forgotten about the folliculitis that I seemed to have caught when I got my hair done Saturday.
Last night was another boisterous evening at Nashville Star. First of all, I have a little snark for you.
Randy Owen's jacket makes me wish I was a contestant so I could get up there and sing "Black Velvet" and dedicate it to him.
Seriously, does the dude have a stylist?
In other wardrobe-related discussion, I have decided that if Prince were a hillbilly, he'd look a lot like John Rich did last night in his full-length fur coat and rock-star sunglasses.
However, the best Nashville Star snark had nothing to do with the show last night. It had to do with me getting gifts. Lots of them. We'll call them "parting gifts."
You see, Newman from the local radio station was in charge of entertaining the crowd before the show started. So he decided to do that by asking folks if they had any Valentine's horror stories. Now, my recent fiasco was not exactly Valentine's-related, but it kind of was, and I was tempted. I could make it about Valentine's Day and as I pointed out to my friend Michelle, who was with me: "I'm pretty sure that if Newman hears my story he'll give me everything in that sack of prizes." She agreed.
Well, time was running out and I really didn't feel like rehashing with 500 strangers, so I let it be. Besides, I didn't want to make an ass of myself.
But this other lady did. You see, she and her daughter drove 4 hours and spent $400 to stay at the Opryland Hotel but couldn't make it to the studio on time so their seats were behind the cameras and they couldn't see. And she decided to make a ruckus. Why she thought a local DJ could get her better seats for a national TV show he just happened to be attending, is beyond me, but she attacked him.
So, no time to tell Newman my story.
The show went on and the crazy lady didn't get ejected, although I'm pretty sure I saw some crew people give her the finger.
After the show, Michelle and I are walking to the parking lot and we run into Newman and we got to talking and the subject of crazy lady and I told him, "I should've rescued you with my Valentine's horror story. Sorry about that."
He still has his swag bag in his hand. He says, "You have one? Let me hear it."
So, I told him about the girl on the radio (see my Valentine's Day post) who didn't get his joke about the husband and the boyfriend. And then I tell him about someone's new, "more practical" girlfriend. I threw in the boss part because it made it even more fun.
And Newman starts taking CDs, hats, t-shirts -- the entire contents of the bag -- out and putting it in my arms. He gave me everything in the sack, and I think anything he had extras of he gave to Michelle just for putting up with me. He told me that my story was much better than "my girlfriend and I got in a big fight."
Then he gave me a big hug.
As he was leaving, I told Michelle: "See, I told you my story was worth the whole sack of prizes." Then I realized we should've asked him for some tickets for next week since it's getting harder to get in each week. Oops.
I haven't ruled out e-mailing him.
Of course, I called Kay to tell her the whole story. I mentioned that I'd definitely have to blog about this whole incident.
And then I said, "But I don't know if I should because Mike's dad reads my blog and all."
She caught my mistake rather quickly. I tried to get out of it, but my explanation was quite lame.
I talked to the tattoo guy today, and apparently (I don't know if all places are like this.) you have to go in and he takes a looksie at what you want to do and if he can do it then, he will but if not you have to schedule something later. I don't think that I have a really tall order, so maybe we can do it on Saturday. If not, I will keep you posted.
Just in case anyone thinks this is crazy and out of character for me, I just wanted to let you all know that I've debated the tattoo thing for a long time. I was going to get a daisy tattoo in college, but I'm pretty sure that Mike talked me out of it. I've wanted one for a long time. Now that I've left Detroit, the D seems like the way to go, even though everyone and their effing brother has one.
I don't have anyone to tell me no. And even though guys might say they don't want you to get one, all guys think they're sexy when they find them. Most likely, I'm the only person who'll ever see it, and it's important to me. Detroit's a big part of who I am. I guess that's why we all have Ds tattooed on us. And when I'm 70 years old in the nursing home, not only will Detroit still be important to me, everyone else will have saggy skin covered in tattoos, too. It's just something our generation does, for better or for worse.
Anyhoo, maybe soon enough I'll have a tattoo to show y'all. We'll see.
No, it's not penicillin; and yes, I did that on purpose.
I am digging Justin Timberlake's new CD. He's my favorite boy from Memphis, you know. I especially love the song "What Goes Around." I don't know if I'd call it a love song, but it's as close as I get lately.
Anyhow, my present is the video, at least until someone realizes it's posted online and takes it down forcibly. It's 9 minutes long, but JT looks great. It's like a little movie, but much better than the one the Pretty Princess did.
So, I have two out of three. The running joke here at the office is that the only reason I don't have a Valentine is because I didn't want to be obligated to eat anyone's high-calorie chocolate today.
I debated sending myself flowers, but I'll do that for my birthday when it's cheaper. And besides, I'm buying myself a tattoo this weekend, right?
Do you know the average person spends $100 on their Valentine? Perhaps I should buy myself a tattoo and flowers.
This lady called in for a contest on the radio and the deejay asked if she was married. She said yes. Then he said, "Do you have a boyfriend?" She chuckled and said no. She needs to read my blog. Nothing surprises me lately.
Yesterday I mentioned Atlanta. I just want to say that I am not foolish enough to think that if I find him we'd end up back together. Not at all. I'm not even sure I would ever go there again. But lately I've been thinking a lot about friendship. I think regardless of your feelings for someone at one time or another, if you have a really great friend that you adore, you shouldn't let them go. I discounted our friendship last time I saw him because I wasn't in the position to be more, and that wasn't fair. Because we did fine as friends. I know he loves Nashville. Atlanta is not far away. We can at least grab a drink sometime he's in town if he knows I'm here. I might not even get in touch with him, but at least I tried. When we were together, his favorite song was "I'm Alright" by JoDee Messina.
This is the first verse of that song: Well it's been a long time glad to see your face I knew we'd meet again another time another place Can't believe it's been so many years You'd better grab a chair and a couple of beers Lookin' good in your three piece suit You know I always knew you'd take the business route You were always the one to follow the light and you look like you're doing alright
Am I wrong to want that? Well, I guess if I hear from him, I will know.
Another friend sent me a Valentine of sorts today, and it said "Friends are like balloons; once you let them go, you can't get them back." I don't always think that's true. Or maybe it's just because I've been thinking about "When Harry Met Sally" ever since that stupid quiz!
I don't have much to say about Valentine's Day. On the plus side, I've spent so many alone that I don't remember what it's like to be half of something. This time five years ago, I was sitting at the airport waiting to go to London. That trip was probably the last Valentine's Day that was even worth mentioning.
I guess the best thing about working at the Land of Misfit Toys this evening is that it'll keep my mind off how much Valentine's Day sucks. Or will it? Because I'm in R-Zone tonight, and that seems to be the place that makes me saddest these days. More memories there than anywhere else.
Should be a delightful evening? Who wants to be on speed-dial to talk me off the ledge? I'll bring the Crown Royal and Merle Haggard.
Since it seems to be all the rage to reunite with exes, perhaps that's why I can't get this song out of my head. Actually, it's been in my head since Meg sang it on Nashville Star and Randy Owen told her no one had ever heard it.
Dude, I LOVE Allison Krauss. And I hope she left you a nasty voice mail for saying that.
Hmmmm...I wonder how I find him. We did well when we were five hours apart. AND I live in a really cool city that he likes to visit.
I'm getting flashbacks of sick, drunken Laura at Buffalo Billiards right now. Should I tell him they closed the strip club in Printer's Alley?
I love how I say that like I can find him. Anyone have a U-M or Ohio Northern alumni directory? Or know all the engineers in Atlanta?
Oh, Atlanta I hear you calling I'm coming back to you one fine day No need to worry There ain't no hurry cause I'm On my way back to Georgia On my way back to Georgia
I'd like to go get my new tattoo this weekend, because I'm thinking that more pain is good these days. And besides, why not? I'm not getting any younger.
Does anyone want to go with me and hold my hand? Pretty please?
Oh, and totally non-related except that I'm thinking about it. You can download my newest crush, Zac Hacker's song "If It Wasn't for the Whiskey" on iTunes for 99 cents. Go over and do that. It's awesome.
If you need a sneak preview, you can watch him sing it in all his cuteness on the Nashville Star Web site! But buy it anyway! What were you going to do with 99 cents? You can't even buy a Diet Coke for that.
So a friend e-mailed me the link to this online quiz, and I knew what answer I'd get before I ever actually even took the quiz. I actually didn't even know this movie was a choice. I did, however, know that this movie has been the story of my life for quite a while. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. Lately, I am not voting for good.
When Harry Met Sally You were best friends, seeing each other through the roughest part of your lives. Then one day you woke up and realized the guy/girl you had always dreamed of was sitting right in front of you. The transition from friends to boy/girlfriend can be a rocky one sometimes and you might risk losing the person you have come to count upon. What is love without a little risk though? The personal connection is there already, which means your romance will be deep and meaningful.
This Caribbean Countdown Photo of the Day is for my friend Helen. She sent me that e-mail with the scary plane landings, and I was surprised that St. Thomas airport wasn't in it.
I sat down to write a post about the Snickers ad, but my ADD got the best of me. I was flipping through channels, and saw Star Trek: The Next Generation. Now, I am not a Trekkie by any stretch of the imagination, but I love Wil Wheaton. So much, in fact, that I did attempt to watch TNG when it first came out. Wil or not, I just can't wrap my brain around science fiction. Anyhow though it was on this G4 TV channel, and I didn't know what that was. So, I googled it and went to their Web site. In addition to reading forums on the TNG message board about how people hate Wil, which I really do not understand except that perhaps they don't know Wil like I do. Go read his book, Just A Geek, haters.
Actually everyone should read it. Go buy a copy, because his son's really close to going to college and I'm sure he'd appreciate your money.
Ooops, ADD again. Where was I?
Oh yes, while I was on the G4TV web site, I saw this poll:
What Childhood Icon scares you more?
Beaker the Muppet - 7.9% H.R. Puff'n'stuff - 17% Papa Smurf - 16.1% Bozo the Clown - 59%
I started thinking about why people are terrified of clowns. I am not a big fan myself, which is funny because my dear friend is a clown. I'm not terrified like some people, but I definitely have a strong dislike. I think part of it for me, was that my uncle had a large collection of clown memorabilia, and I don't particularly like him. I think it just turned me off.
But seriously, clowns are freaking creepy. I have never seen Stephen King's It or read the book, so that's not why I hate clowns. I don't know why, but I think they're scary. There's a whole web site about hating clowns, appropriately named ihateclowns.com, so I decided to check it out.
Wow, this is quite a phenomenon. Some people can't even see clowns in pictures. It's really bad. I am not afraid, but I wouldn't go out of my way to be around a clown. When I planned the Halloween Party at the Land of Misfit Toys, someone offered to dress as a clown. I told them no. I'm glad I did now, because it sounds like clowns bring bad feelings to lots of people.
Maybe it's the make-up. Maybe it's the people underneath the make-up. Maybe it's the big shoes and little cars. I don't know. I can't tell you exactly why I don't like clowns, just that I don't. I don't hate them; they're just people doing a job. I just don't want to hang out with them.
What about you? How do you feel about clowns? Like them? Hate them? Paralyzed with fear? And why? Let's get the comments going with this one... I'm really curious.
Would you give your friends any money? Yeah, I would.
Where would you go on vacation? Well aside from spending plenty of time in Vegas and Italy, I'd probably go to Australia and visit friends around the world. I still need to get to the South of France too!
What luxury item would you buy first? I'd build myself a huge-ass gym so I never had to go to the Y again.
Would it change your life? Nah, not at all. (I'd still be sarcastic, see?)
Would you save any of it? Hell yeah, I'm not an idiot.
Would it change your current relationship? Kay and I kidded that if we won PowerBall we'd build someone a store to manage (near me, of course), but that's kinda changed. So since I currently have no relationship, I'd buy me a nice man. (Kidding folks. Kidding!)
Would you quit your job? I'd stay until they found someone new. We're swamped there. Then I'd work on writing books and charitable stuff. Yes, boys and girls, I'd be a socialite and live up to the fact that I live in Belle Meade. Of course, I'd be trashy new money, but maybe the boyfriend I buy could be John Rich, since he's trashy new money too, according to our neighbors!
Would you ever work again? Sure. I don't want to get bored.
What one task would you never do again? One task? I don't think I'd be cleaning anymore. (Not that I do much of it now, but I'd cut it out completely.) I'd still cook though, mostly because I'd need to show off the skills I learned at Le Cordon Bleu.
What dream of yours would you be able to do? Travel the world, help people, write books and not worry about bills getting paid.
Would you change the way you dress? I think I'd have Stacy and Clinton help me!
Would you change anything about your body? Well, my personal trainer and I would work out everyday in that new home gym and after I got done losing weight I'd have all the plastic surgery I needed (including new boobs. yay!)
Would you miss anything about not bring rich? Anonymity
Who would be the first person you tell? My parents
Would it bring you happiness? I think I'd be happy to not worry about money, but the rest would be the same ol'.
I had this big long post about our efforts to draft Al Gore to run for President in 2008, but it seems he's still staying he's not going to.
This makes me sad. Al Gore rocks. He is our nation's best hope for recovery. We need to go back to the way things were in the Clinton Years, and he knew how to do it the first time.
Don't say, "But that's why we have Hillary."
I don't believe she's electable. I don't think any of the Democrats who have announced so far would be.
Al Gore has the most experience. He is the smartest. He is a diplomat. He's nominated for an Oscar and a Nobel Peace Prize. He's a winner, and he would win.
Maybe America in 2000 wasn't ready for Albert Gore Jr. to be president, but we are now. Our nation is hurting, and I truly believe that Al's got the first-aid kit.
I know he most likely won't run, but I've been accused of living in fantasy land before.
I'd like a fantasy land where people had jobs and homes and a decent wage and trees for shade and clean air and a nation respected around the world.
That's not Fantasy Land, though. That's the US of A, circa 1998.
That's why we need Al Gore. We need him as much as the environment does.
I'll just cross my fingers. Perhaps if Al doesn't dive in the race, someone who can beat Mitt Romney or Rudy Giuliani will...
Perhaps I'm dreadfully old-fashioned, but I'm getting a little pissed off with society's blatant disregard for marital vows. Not that Britney Spears has ever been a poster child for love and commitment, but I just read an article about her breaking up with her boyfriend. You know what? I didn't even know she had a boyfriend. Because last I heard, she still had a husband. I double-checked. She's still married. Just because you're separated doesn't mean that your free of the obligation to your spouse. I think I last raised a big fuss over this when the media were celebrating the whole Brad and Angelina thing. I don't care if Jennifer Aniston is a big old bitch, as long as Brad was married to her, he had an obligation. And furthermore, finding someone "better" isn't a good enough reason to get divorced. Why do the media act like marriage (especially among celebrities) is no big deal? Why does our culture think it's as acceptable to change spouses as it is finger-nail polish. Why on God's green earth would anyone think that it's OK to break up a marriage? Why on earth would someone get married if they weren't sure they wanted to be with the person? Who tosses their marital vows aside like a dirty shirt?
Or am I just idealistic and totally out of touch.
Part of the reason I'm 30 and I'm not married is because I'm only getting married once. So, if I'm not positive that you're the person I want to marry, I'm not going to marry you. Any doubts, and it's not going to happen. Yeah, at one point I thought I might get married, but I didn't. And you know what? I'm OK. I don't need to be married.
That is, until I'm married. You see, my church takes marital vows very seriously, as all good churches should. I would like to get married someday, because I think that the bond between Man and Woman in matrimony is one of the best gifts that God gives us. After all, the Bible does say "What God has joined, let no man separate." (Mark 10:9) There are times when someone has to get divorced. I understand that. No one deserves to be abused. Folks in that situation shouldn't even look back. I don't tolerate cheating, so infidelity is another good reason to get divorced. Other than that, I'm just not sure. People need to spend more time getting to know each other before they got married. Sometimes I think people spend more time deciding on a new car than a spouse.
I'm just sick of it. I don't care about Britney's endless parade of boyfriends and husbands. I don't care about Brad and Angelina's torrid affair. I don't care about Denise and Richie or Jim and Jenny. I don't care about the revolving door of celebrity marriages. Too many people see this stuff and think it's normal and it shouldn't be. It should be far from it.
Why don't we celebrate the folks who truly believe that marriage is until death? On Sunday, I went to see two residents at a nursing home get married. That's the kind of wedding that should get publicity. How about a couple that's been married for 68 years?
Marriage is a big deal, folks. It's for life. Or at least that's what Jesus tells us. The minister on Sunday said that it's no coincidence that Jesus' first public miracle was at a wedding. God wants marriage to be a big deal. He wants us to treat the ones we love as we would treat Him. Are we so quick to discard God? Is there something better than God out there waiting for us? Nope. So why would we treat our spouses that way.
We shouldn't. Plain and simple.
Yet, I'm the single one. Yeah, maybe I'm just dreadfully old-fashioned.
Hopefully I won't get sued for posting this. I highly doubt that I would, but I thought that if there were people out there who still hadn't seen it, they needed to. And if you don't have Johnny Cash's American recordings, go get them. I grew up on Johnny Cash. I remember when I was young my favorite Johnny Cash song was "One Piece at a Time" because it reminded me of my dad working at General Motors. He got a kick out of it when I asked him if Johnny Cash worked at his factory. Hey, it was a logical question. It was the only place they made Cadillacs. So the song was written (not by Johnny Cash, by the way) about my dad's factory, but it was long before he worked there, and as far as I know, Johnny Cash never worked there.
I've always loved "Folsom Prison Blues," but mostly because my brother is quite fond of going around telling people: "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die." And sometimes they believe him. Dude, it's a Johnny Cash song. Not to contradict myself, because I said yesterday that the last line of the 2nd verse of "You Oughta Know" was the best line in a song ever, but that line from "Folsom" is right up there. If it wouldn't take me 900 years, maybe I'd make a list of all my favorite song lines. It would also be 800 pages long!
Anyhow, I have a lot of "favorite" Johnny Cash songs. I rediscovered him after I first heard him singing U2 covers on American III. I also got back on my classic country kick and started listening to way more Hank Sr., Patsy Cline, Tammy Wynette and George Jones after that, and of course, The Highwaymen.
This song was on American IV. It's one of the best covers ever. The video is amazing. This was a lot of lead-in for it, but I have a very special place in my heart for The Man In Black. I never got to meet him, but I know without a doubt that he was a very kind, loving, talented and amazing person. And I'm sure someday I'll meet him in Heaven. We won't have to sing this song there...
I'm not giving any other commentary. It speaks for itself, and today it speaks to me.
Song of the day (so damn cool it gets its own post!)
I'll never forget the first time I ever heard "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morisette.
Earlier this week I talked about how real and gritty songs can be and how great some songwriters are. Alanis is one of those songwriters.
Rumor has it that this song was written about Dave Coulier, the actor from Full House who had dated Alanis at some point. Dave is from Detroit, and I'd have to say that while neither of them will confirm it, it's pretty much conventional wisdom in the Motor City.
I'm not sure that this isn't the best verse ever in a song:
You seem very well, things look peaceful I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner It was a slap on the face how quickly I was replaced Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?
I went home sick again today. I felt like hell and didn't have a whole day in me. I also called in at the Land of Misfit Toys. Then I came home and went to bed. Ryan e-mailed me to see what I was up to and I told him that I wasn't sure but I might have pneumonia. Needless to say, he no longer wanted to hang out after that.
I have no sick time, so I have to just suck it up and go back to work. On the plus side, it's February, so I'm hopeful that the really bad ailments are running their course.
I'm going to try to get to Nashville Star tomorrow, but I feel so shitty. I'm thinking if we have to wait in line that I might not make it. It's so much fun, and I worry that one of my other favorites might get voted off this week. (Maybe Zac? Eeek.) But it's on TV and I really should try to get some rest. I'd like to get back to the Land of Misfit Toys for my shift on Friday. I just want to be well again. I hate being sick.
Speaking of Nashville Star, I wanted to share with you the video of my friend Meg singing "Wrong Side of Memphis." Y'all didn't see it because she got voted off, but I was so excited about it that I had to share the video clip.
I was going to go to sleep, but Crossroads is on, and I do believe I am witnessing Kid Rock and Bocephus singing "Cowboy" together. I imagine that if I make it to heaven, this will be the musical entertainment.
OK, maybe only in my heaven.
(Speaking of getting into heaven, I really haven't wrapped my head around finding out that I completely misread someone as much as I realized earlier this week. When people read that post they asked me if I was sure because that just didn't seem like something he'd do. I don't want to dissect it. I have my theories on it all, but it's not my place. Unfortunately, if any of my other friends thought that was a good idea, I'd totally call them out. I can't do that with him, all things considered. That frustrates me, because the whole mess is a recipe for disaster and I care about him. He's not a bad person. Everyone's just a little mystified by their "first" real boyfriend or girlfriend (or as mine called it "your first piece of ass." He was classy; why'd I let him get away?) I'm sure if we thought about it, we all have that person we'd take back in a heartbeat. I guess if you really want a person in your life, you're less picky about that and don't notice things like their marital status...)
I needed a laugh really bad. This fit the bill, so I thought I would share.
I'm signing up for the gym next week. Luckily I've been too sick to eat this week, so that helps.
Although with as much BS as I've been fed lately, I'm thinking maybe the Purina Diet is the way to go...
I was in Wal-Mart buying a large bag of Purina for Joe and was in line to check out. A woman behind me asked if I had a dog........ DUH!
I was feeling a bit crabby so on impulse, I told her no, I was starting the Purina Diet again, although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in the hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care unit with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms.
Her eyes about bugged out of her head. I went on and on with the bogus diet story and she was totally buying it.
I told her that it was an easy, inexpensive diet and that the way it works is to load your pockets or purse with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The package said the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.
I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a tall guy behind her. Horrified, she asked if something in the dog food had poisoned me and was that why I ended up in the hospital.
I said no...I'd been sitting in the street licking my butt when a car hit me. I thought the tall guy was going to have to be carried out the door.
I can't wait to go home and go to bed. I'm sick and grumpy and I just want this day to be over.
So, I can start over with new shit tomorrow.
There's so much to cry about, yet I know that none of it is worth any tears. Not stupid boys (and/or their psuedo girlfriends), not asshole friends, not know-it-all bitches ... none of it.
It just gets old putting in more effort than everyone else. I guess that's what I get for being a nice person, although as much as I try to be a bitch it just never works out for me.
Kelly suggested that I just go off on a customer to get fired from the Land of Misfit Toys. Do you know how many times I've wanted to? I just don't have the heart to do it.
I always follow the rules. I always play a very conservative hand. Hell, if I were one for breaking the rules maybe I wouldn't be bitching about stupid boys and psuedo girlfriends right now. (And in a related side note, probably wouldn't be bitching the Land of Misfit Toys, either.)
If you'll forgive me, I'm off to straighten the door mat on my back. I'll try to get back later, but frankly this mini-rant has helped significantly.
I wanted to direct everyone's attention to a post I put here well over a year ago. Maybe tomorrow I'll talk about love and all that jazz, but today I thought that we all needed a little reminder that God is the one who has a plan for who our mate will be. It doesn't really matter what we want. When your soulmate comes to you, you'll be available for that person, and they'll be available for you. I think this is hard for us to realize sometimes. The person God wants you to spend the rest of your life with is not going to be married to his job or another person or emotionally unavailable or not where they need to be in their walk with the Lord. They'll be 100-percent ready to be your mate, just as you will be theirs. All the pieces have to fall together.
I forgot this lately. I could use the reminder. I think it gets so hard to remember sometimes. We start worrying about biological clocks and emotional and physical needs, and we forget about spirtual needs. Before we are even born, God knows exactly how our life will turn out. We just have to trust Him.
So, today I went back to Dr. Swang's office for my check-up and a cleaning. And today we learned that if I'd like to have teeth indefinitely, I need to start taking better care of them.
I hate brushing my teeth. I have very strong lip and jaw muscles and a very strong gag reflex. All of this makes brushing my teeth very difficult. You'd think as much as I hate the dentist, I'd brush more often to avoid going and having work done. But I just can't stand having all that stuff in my mouth.
But I need to keep my teeth, if for no other reason that dentures are expensive and actually require more maintenance than regular teeth. (Trust me, I'm about to learn all about that, as we are going to replace the hole in my mouth with a partial denture.)
I have to brush my teeth three times a day now, for at least 2 minutes each time. Morning, after lunch and before I go to bed. Every day. Forever.
I just did it for the first time before I sat down to write this. I did pretty well, but I ended up throwing up during the last minute of the middle brushing part.
This is my evening dental ritual.
Floss (It's really not as bad as I thought.) Listerine whitening rinse Brush for 2 minutes with enamel-strengthening toothpaste and electric toothbrush Brush for 2 minutes with prescription, plaque prevention toothpaste and dry regular tooth brush.
Morning ritual is whitening rinse, regular brushing with electric toothbrush and listerine rinse.
After lunch is just 2 minutes of brushing.
I'll be curious to see how my teeth look at my 6-month check up in August. I do like how clean my teeth feel. I think I might at some point get used to it enough that I won't throw up, which would be great!
The other day I was reading one of my regular blogs, and there was mention of this new "ABC Poem" craze. Apparently it's all the rage among bloggers to write these poems on a certain topic where the beginning of each subsequent word follows the alphabet kind of like this:
A boy, Chester danced each Friday...
That's all you get, just to give you an example. I tried to write one (that's not it, though, and you'll never get to see it, so don't ask!), but I'm not a poet. Nowhere close. Although I have a half-finished novel somewhere in my possession (I'm going to start working on it again this week; I have Saturday off, and no one loves me.), my area of expertise is non-fiction prose. Straight-forward, just-the-facts, reporting. That's what I was trained to do, and that's how I roll. (Ironically, my first published work was a fiction book when I was nine years old. I'm sure it was semi-autobiographical, although it's been so long ago I barely remember it, and it's in my mama's keepsakes somewhere.)
Often when I'm out and about I see observations that I jot down. When I think I can see lines of stories. I jotted down little notes at the wedding I covered for work on Sunday. More than once I've gotten ideas for this blog just walking through my ordinary day. Somedays you see them, somedays you don't.
I have a soft spot in my heart for songwriters. My brother is a very talented songwriter. I have met some great folks since I got here to town. Before I got here, I knew a few folks who wrote some pretty great songs. (My friend Eric's song "Hey Murphy" is running through my head right now.) I love a great song, and I admire the men and women who have the talent to write them.
I'll never forget the first time I saw my brother write a song. He's always had the knack to think in music and he's been pulling impromptu melodies and lyrics out for years. But to see someone sit with a guitar or at a piano and have it all fall into place -- music and lyric -- impresses me beyond belief. What is an ordinary observation for most of us becomes a beautiful song to a songwriter.
The other night, my roommates and I hung out with one of our friends. He's not a songwriter, but it's safe to say that he comes from a musical family. Somehow we got to listening to some music from his family and my roommate Carol said, "How do people do that? How do they put the words and the music together and make a song? How do they think like that?"
I think that those of us who can't do it, don't get it. That's what makes songwriters special. I think it would be really cool if I could write a song for a special occasion. My brother has written so many songs for milestones in his life and even stupid stuff he sees from day to day. I am sure that he's working on the perfect song to sing at his wedding in June. In fact, I'll be disappointed if he's not.
I've always said that I'd love for someone to write a song about me or for me. The example I always give is "Little Moments" by Brad Paisley. If I had a man in my life who loved me enough to write a song like that he'd pretty much be able to mold me like putty in his hands. Of course, Brad had to trump himself with "She's Everything," but that just shows he loves his wife as much now as he did a few years ago.
Living here in Nashville can be dangerous for someone who has a thing for songwriters and boys with guitars. I could spend all my time watching all the up-and-coming artists around here. I've also gone to some pretty big concerts since I got here. I'm a huge John Rich fan. I love Bob Seger and still can't believe I sat in the front row at his show in December. You'll often find me hanging out at the bars and clubs in town checking out the writers around town. And it's really cool when one of your friends ends up getting a song recorded by a huge artist.
And, I'm pleased to announce that I'm getting closer to my goal of getting a song written for me. The other night I e-mailed my friend Bryan to tell him I was too drunk to blog (I'm sure I told him other things, but my memory's quite fuzzy) and he told me that he was going to have to write a song using the line "I've got whiskey running through my veins."
So, that's a start. I'll be curious to see the finished product.
Song of the Day: "Tennessee Flat Top Box" by Johnny Cash.
Yes, it'd be nice to have someone to keep me warm on nights like tonight. And when I was sick today it'd have been nice to have someone I could've conned into going to the cleaners to pick up my duvet. It might even be nice to have someone around on that stupid-ass little holiday that's happening next week. If for nothing else but flowers, chocolate and sex.
But as nice as it'd be to have a mate, I don't think I'd ever resort to stealing someone else's so that I could have one.
Yes, indeed, I'm glad that I'm not that desperate.
And with that, the drama ends. The funk is lifted. Because the only thing more desperate than chasing after a man would be chasing after a man who is that desperate.
And apparently not as Christian as he would lead one to believe if he thinks that a married girlfriend is not only practical, but appropriate...
So, I'm still feeling a little funky. I heard something this weekend that made it worse (and I don't mean "Cold and Empty" on the radio, although that did NOT help). I've resisted the urge to be a shrew, but let me tell you it's very tempting. I guess I need to just keep doing what I'm doing.
I'm really not excited about the Super Bowl. I hope the Colts win, and I'm excited for Peyton. I even have my t-shirt on (over my blue and white thermals; it's cold here!), but I'm just really numb right now. And that has NOTHING to do with the weather.
Either my thermostat or my temperature sensor on my car didn't make it out alive from the overheating incident, which Carter said might happen. Basically, my temperature gauge will not go back to zero, and instead it just keeps starting in a new place every time and going further and further to the right. My engine's not running hot at all, so I think it's just broken. The only real issue I had was when the temperature gauge needle bumped into the speedometer needle then I couldn't tell how hot the car was OR how fast I was going. So, we'll take it to the garage this week and see what they have to say.
Later on, I plan to write about the wedding that I went to today. It really made me think about things.
Sisters Mary Catherine, Maria Theresa, Katherine Marie, Rose Frances, & Mary Kathleen left the Convent on a trip to St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City and were sight-seeing on a Tuesday in July. It was hot and humid in town and their traditional garb was making them so uncomfortable, they decided to stop in at Patty McGuire's Pub for a cold soft drink.
Patty had recently added special legs to his barstools, which were the talk of the fashionable eastside neighborhood. All 5 Nuns sat up at the bar and were enjoying their Cokes when Monsignor Riley and Father McGinty entered the bar through the front door.
They, too, came for a cold drink when they were shocked and almost fainted at what they saw.
I just read this article on binge-eating disorder being the most popular eating disorder, being twice as prevalent as anorexia and bullimia. Sometimes it's nice to know that you're validated. It's nice to know that you're not crazy when you have something like this. Addictions suck, people. Whether it's gambling, food, booze, whatever you're addicted to -- it sucks. It sucks even more when you can't quit cold-turkey. Imagine something that you need to live (food) being in a position where it can kill you. Imagine having to take the "one day at a time" philosophy with eating. Imagine worrying about the candy dish on your desk or if you ate too much at lunch. Imagine second-guessing every morsel of food you put in your mouth.
Anyhow, I've discussed this topic a lot here. And why not? It's a big part of my life. I guess reading things like this let me know that I was justified in the things that I said when people made light of my illness. And really, what is the point of having a blog if you're not educating ignorant people?
I'm not perfect. I'm not anywhere near being recovered. But I think everyone who's trying promises that they'll do their best to make sure that others don't suffer. So maybe this will help someone. And if it doesn't, that's OK too, because I think it gives you a little more insight into who I am.
Study: Binging a common eating disorder By JESSE HARLAN ALDERMAN, Associated Press Writer Thu Feb 1, 2:43 AM ET
Frequent binge eating is the country's most common eating disorder, far outpacing the better-known diet problems of anorexia and bulimia, according to a national survey.
Psychiatric researchers at Harvard University Medical School and its affiliate, McLean Psychiatric Hospital, have billed the study as the first national census of eating disorders. The results were published Thursday in the medical journal Biological Psychiatry.
The survey found that 3.5 percent of women and 2 percent of men suffer from binge eating, defined as bouts of uncontrolled eating, well past the point of being full, that occur at least twice a week.
The doctors diagnosed fewer than 1 percent of women and 0.3 percent of men with anorexia, a disorder where an exaggerated fear of weight gain causes undereating and malnourishment. The study determined that 1.5 percent of women and 0.5 percent of men had bulimia, characterized by the "binge-purge" syndrome of overeating followed by vomiting.
McLean Hospital's Dr. Harrison Pope, an author of the study, said binge eaters face severe risk of obesity and related diseases like diabetes, heart disease, stroke and certain cancers.
A binge eater, for instance, might eat a full dinner, then a quart of ice cream for dessert, followed by a bag of chips, without being able to stop, Pope said.
"It's a little bit analogous to something you hear from an alcoholic, when they might say, 'Well, I wanted to have one drink,' and they've had 12 drinks and they're passed out on the floor," he said in a conference call with reporters. "Even though they feel full, even though they feel disgusting and guilty, they can't stop."
Dr. James I. Hudson, the study's lead author and a Harvard Medical School psychiatry professor, said binge eating deserves more recognition from health professionals.
"These results argue that binge eating is common. It's more common than both the other eating disorders combined and it's strongly associated with obesity," he said. "Taken together, these findings suggest that this is an eating disorder and should be treated as such."
Funding for the study came from several sources, including the National Institutes of Health, Eli Lilly & Co. and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. Hudson said the research team interviewed more than 9,000 people nationwide from 2001 to 2003 about their eating habits and psychological backgrounds. The study probably underestimates the actual number of those with eating disorders, he said, because people are often ashamed to acknowledge their abnormal eating habits.
The survey also found that people struggle longer with binge eating — symptoms persist for an average of about eight years compared to less than two years for anorexic patients, who are often young and may recover as they mature. Bulimics suffer without cure for an average of roughly eight years, according to the study.
Men and women between the ages of 18 and 29 were most likely to be diagnosed with an eating disorder, while people older than 60 had the lowest rates of eating problems. The doctors said all three illnesses usually coincided with mood disorders like depression and anxiety.
A combination of the "cultural barrage" of images of rail-thin movie stars, ubiquitous fast-food advertising and genetic predisposition is usually the root of eating disorders, the study said.
Dr. B. Timothy Walsh, director of the eating disorders research unit at the New York State Psychiatric Hospital at Columbia University Medical Center, said the study confirms a widespread belief that the population of binge eaters is growing. He said if binge eating is a cause of obesity, psychiatrists could give more effective treatment to many overweight people.
"Everyone has a sense, whether from a casual inspection of people on Broadway or an empirical study, that there are a lot of problems with binge eating and overeating," he said. "The question is, is it a cause or a symptom?"
