Don't try to front, folks

Everyone everywhere is suffering with watery nostrils, dry eyes, stuffy heads and a hacking cough. Ok, so not everyone, but there are damn sure enough of you bastards to continue the flow of germs for weeks to come. Myself included. I'm all germy. Coughing and spitting green gobs of bad stuff into random tissues in my pocket. Hey...beats spitting in the trash can...like they did in grade school. It attacked Sonny first, this...this... germ. It drained his energy and stuffed his head, gave him a dry cough that produced a headache. I nursed my boy to health and what thanks do I get? His fucking illness, that's what! In a matter of 24 hours he was fit as a fiddle. I'm still dragging my ass at work, dabbing my overly moist eyes, and bringing up the colorful bad stuff. At least I'm getting better, I keep saying to myself. Meanwhile, if I'm in an enclosed space with people for more than two minutes I begin violently coughing and sputtering like a choke victim. Conversations cease and all eyes turn to me, shirt collars covering exposed orifices (noses and mouths). It's horrible. Someone's bound to dub me Typhoid Mary or something like that. And what's worse (don't try to front, folks) is if you fart in the midst of all your coughing and convulsions. Ugh. Call out sick, for what it's worth.

Well, I've got to get out of this cramped office and get some air. It's stuffy in here and it smells mildly like disinfectant and coffee.

How's your health?

What happened to us?

Got off the phone this evening with my high school chum, Jo. What the hell happened to us? We used to be as tight as Baby Phat Jeans. Now, we're more like an old pair of sweats from Walmart, loose and not really together. I'm getting married in 6 months (chewing nails, chewing nails) and she's still at home, complaining about her mom and basking in the fading glow of adolescent indifference (ie. not taking job seriously, dating players). For Chrissake she is, after all, 21. Not to say that every 21-year-old should have a direction and know what they want from life. That's too idealogical. It's OK to be a bit confused. But my buddy lacks motivation. I think that's the very basic drive, urge, push WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL IT, that says, "Why are things this way? How can I change them?"

If I say, "let's get together and paint the town red. Do it up Sex and The City style", she'll probably say something encouraging. Something like, "Sure! Sounds great!" The problem for her is follow-through. Will she trek 13 miles out to the city to see me? I don't know. Maybe I'm being critical...maybe it's the White Russian that my fiancee lovingly prepared for me...I feel she's hopeless. If you don't know what you really want, then how can you possibly go for anything? If you're afraid to leave the safety of your warm safe little haven, then you can't possibly have any ambition. I honestly don't know how to help home girl out. She needs guidance. I feel the need to drag her ass into a Starbucks, order two venti caramel mocchiatos and have an hour of just shooting the shit. Everyone needs that, right? Someone to talk to. I don't know what it'll accomplish but I'll ask her out. Take her Margaritaville and attempt a little gentle persuasion. Where do I even BEGIN?

The Know-It-All

I'm sure everyone out there knows one of these people. Maybe...gasp...even are related to one of em. A know-it-all. One of those people who's ass must be perfumed with Binaca, given how much they want it kissed. I've known one for a few years now. Dean* is a decent enough guy. Quasi handsome. He might even come off as charming if you talk to him for 5 minutes. But Godforbid you fall short of the perfect and glorious existence he has in his wake... Heaven forbid you make a mistake!

If I need any advice, he's ready to dole it out...No problem. But he has this canned view of the world. His advice is good for Dean, but not necessarily for me. And if I point this out then I'm in denial. True, he's got a few years on me...but I'm in a completely different place (in so many ways) from where he is and has ever been. I'm not living in the "middle class", I don't just want to make money, I want to have a career I enjoy; sex is not the most important thing in my life. I'm marrying the love of my life and the sex is the icing on the cake. Dean is in a position where he's ravenous for intimacy, he doesn't seem to enjoy his job, let alone have a career he loves. I don't want to say he's lived a charmed life, I don't think I know him well enough to say so. But I don't enjoy feeling like the value of my experience pales in comparison to his views just cuz he's a few years older. Views, that I would venture to say, are somewhat sheltered.

In the end, I can't be sore. I'm going to live my life according to me. No matter what. >Sigh< I read a great quote somewhere, "The man who believes he knows everything, really knows nothing". I think that's true. When you close yourself up, claiming to have sufficient knowledge, you stop the flow of new info. You make yourself unable to absorb anything more. Dangerous.

How's your know-it-all?

John Mayer...remember him?

The other day, I was stumbling around in the Times Square Virgin Megastore, bopping to some unusual Euro/techno music. I was there because a friend alerted me about the 2 for $15 sale they've got going. So, I didn't know what I'd pick up, but I'm a woman with a credit card...What did I have to lose? LOL. I usually don't buy more than 2 CDs at a time from VM anyway, given that I'm a card carrying BMG member (I love them!!).

I came across the debut album of that yummy crooner, John Mayer, for 9 bucks. What a deal! I grabbed it without a second thought. And ya know, I'm really enjoying it! I love his one song, 83. It's so personal and sweet. I'm transformed into a fan in 24 hours. He's deep. I love his one quote, "I just found out there's no such thing as the real world...just a lie you've got to rise above." Sonny disagrees with this, but I'm all for it. What the fuck is the real world, anyway? Is it post High School? Is there a point where you wake up one morning, stretch, head for the bathroom, turn on the shower to clean up for work and then.. OH SHIT... You're in the real world? I honestly don't know. And maybe that says something about me and how much growing up I've got to do. Or maybe my man John has a point. Everyone's bracing themselves in high school.. Wait till you get out into the real world, the crotchey old Biology teacher warns. Does living in the real world involve making minimum wage, sans health insurance and paying taxes through the nose? That's what most people are doing. Or is it living in the middle class (as my middle class friend believes)? I guess this issue might be flavored and colored differently for each individual.

See what happens when you buy a John Mayer album?

Super Bitch!

What's that...in the sky? Is it a bird? no. A plane? no. It's SUPER BITCH!! Able to stir shit with the significant other (SO) using one word. Gets her strength from Ibuprophen and Hershey's chocolate. LOL. I was on the mood swing low yesterday. My fiancee, who I'll call Sonny, got the blunt end of it. He's a great guy, soft hands, gentle kisses, back rubs when I'm low. I love the guy, dearly. But last night I was so wound up with my PMS that I stormed out of the house. I feel terrible about it now (I even bought him a small bouquet of carnations to apologize) but at the time I was seeing red!

We went out to get dinner at a take out place. The cashier was rude as hell! I kept trying to tell her what I wanted after Sonny ordered, but she kept her eyes low to the ground and ignored me. And Sonny didn't say a word. He paid for his dinner and followed me out on to the street. We went there to get dinner together but it was more important for Sonny to eat, than for us to have a satisfactory dining experience. I can't stop laughing at myself now, but yesterday...woo boy, I could've punched Sonny's lights out. PMS is a horrible, horrible thing...

The Dress Factor

Marriage. Commitment of yourself (body, mind and soul) to another. I'm about to join that club (very happily) soon. In September, infact. I'm excited about it, of course. I'd just be more excited if I wasn't so broke. But that's a story (as my father says) for another day. The issue this session is the dress.

When I told my ex coworker, Chris, I was getting married, his eyes lit up. Not that he's all about the institute of marriage and all that jazz. nah. He was already, in his mind, composing a sketch of the dress he would make for me. I should have said, "Hell no" when he offered to do it to begin with. But instead, the jolly idiot I am, I said ok. Mistakes, and time, make a person wise. I smiled and fluttered my eye lids with joy. Oooh, a custom made dress! I'm old enough to know better, of course. When you allow a friend to do you such a tremendous favor, you'd better be damn sure they'll follow through. There was no doubt in my mind that Chris would not. I'd have to get on his ass to get any satisfaction. And I'm such a cream puff about EVERYTHING! I knew his work habits and I had the synopsis of his work ethic to a T: the minimal amount of effort necessary to keep ya on the payroll.

Well, fast forward half a year and whaddaya got? Me, sans a dress. I should be angry. But you know what? I didn't put a dime down on fabric, or labor or anything like that. I gave him only one piece of very valuable material, and that's time. I can't keep nursing the idea that he'll pull through in the end, I just can't. The reality is I have to move on from here. Pick up the pieces.

I'm sure you can relate. Doesn't it suck to be let down?

I have no idea....

What the hell am I doing? I'm sooo not a techy, but I know a guy who has one of these and he's not much of a techy either, so I thought, what could it hurt? Well, here I am. A blogger...sorta. And who do I hope to reach out to with this decadant display of too-much-time-on-hand? Well, I guess mainly the girls out there who know they belong somewhere, but can't figure it out, for the life of them. Black, Spanish, Oriental...it doesn't matter. I consider myself to be colorless...some real hippie stuff, isn't it? But it's true. I'm just testing the waters with this post. More interesting stuff will follow. Promise. :-)