Over Keith Urban

I just heard one of Keith Urban’s songs from his last album on the radio, and it occurred to me that I no longer have the same feelings for him as I once did. As I wrote in an earlier blog, his songs made me want to sing aloud to my officemate, and I never missed a morning without listening to one of his cds on the way to work. Maybe his new songs just don’t do it for me, or maybe when I heard he was with Nicole, suddenly his appeal lessened.

Michelli will love to hear this. She scowls at my country music, but she no longer needs to… I think the place I’m in right now in my life requires something less sappy and sweet. Think I’ll go back to my angry rock music again. Saliva, here I come.

Sigh. Its over Keith. I’m moving on.

Recycling Men

Note: The following rant is not a man bash. I completely and utterly love men, for their strength, smell, and everything else that most women love them for.

For the last two nights I've had a couple of girlfriends drop by for a visit. Our topic of discussion was men, specifically two completely unrelated men that wronged them each separately within a 48 hour time frame. While one was a new beau who had come across another women, fell in love/lust and left my friend, the other was a man who had yet again betrayed my other friend. This man was a recycled man.

Why, I asked, do women recycle men? I am also very guilty of this. We don't finish off a can of coke and drop it in the bin, then turn around and pick it up to drink out of it again. We're through with the coke, the can is empty and can no longer do anything for us. Why would we try to reconnect with an old flame over and over again, knowing that there was a (usually very good) reason for leaving him in the first place?

I'd like to put the blame for returning to ex-boyfriends on comfort in familiarity, or perhaps, loneliness. Either way, we really should take our recycleds to the bins and leave them there.

Sleeping with a Spider

Last night I was getting into bed, you know, the usual ritual I have of changing into pjs, pulling hair in bun so I won't eat it at night, pulling back covers when >squeal< I see what I think is a teeny tiny crushed spider in my bed. So, I freak and brush it off real quick before I actually inspect it, then frantically try to find it on the floor behind my head board to make sure it was a spider. Eeewww! I heard somewhere that a person swallows at least 7 bugs/spiders in their sleep in a lifetime. I try to go to sleep, but I'm all itchy and have the heebie jeebies, and get up twice more before falling asleep to turn on the light and look under the covers.

Who wants to know that kind of information anyway? (Ignore the fact that I myself am sharing this unwanted info too.) When I learned this on some random tv channel, for the next few weeks I tried desparately to position my face on my pillow to be sure that my mouth wouldn't relax in the middle of the night and leave a home for any spider. Sooner or later I gave up. I mean, I've probably already swallowed one or two so far...

Christmas for Lola & Bean

Yep, Lola gave me a head for Christmas. Now my wig has a happy home. In return, I gave Lola a welding helmet. Now she is prepared for her welding lessons.