Dress Up Continued

Post dedicated to Lola...
I’m doing a little cleaning right now at the office, sorting through old pics, most of which I shouldn’t have on the office computer anyway. Came across one of my favorites – dress up night at Bean’s & Lola’s. As noted in earlier pics, we are shooting ourselves because there is no better photographer than yourself. Especially after a few bottles of wine.

This is the only time I will admit cleaning to be fun. I’m finding all kinds of neat things…

Beauty Day

Well, it was about time for Rapunzel to get her hair cut. My sister came into town to give Rapunzel her snipping, and I decided it was time for mine too. It was quite the event. Toot danced and sang for us (those are my sunglasses), my sister and I got into a spanking war – she had the flat brush in her hand, so you know I had my butt on the ground to avoid the sting. Ahh, I remember being popped on the behind as a child with one of those things…

Anyway, new pics from Mel’s camera. Enjoy!

Random Thought of the Day

About two or three months ago I was buying sliced turkey from my local deli when I happened to look down at a loaf of Sara Lee bread in the midst of a line up at the bottom of the counter.

Does anyone know the Sara Lee slogan? Do you think its “Nobody does it like Sara Lee”? Well, I did.

That’s not their slogan. It’s “Nobody doesn’t like Sara Lee.”

Now fuck me if I’m wrong, but that’s the dumbest tag I’ve ever heard. Maybe the brilliance of it is to have consumers think the slogan/tag line is one thing, but actually be another. Well if so, that’s just stupid too. That tag is like someone saying “Your team doesn’t suck” when someone asks if that particular team is good.

Why not “Everybody likes Sara Lee”?

Okay, I’m done. Thanks for your attention.

Your Love Style

James got me hooked on these blog thingies. This one is pretty neat and hits the nail on the head.

Your Love Style is Eros

For you, love is all about the passion!And chances are, you're currently in love.You have a strong physical response to love...And you are great at committing (As long as the person makes your toes curl!)

What's" Your Love Style?

Weekend Trip

What a beautiful weekend. J & I went to Katy, Texas for his friend’s wedding. This was our first weekend away together, so needless to say I was a bit nervous the week before. Three full days of being together non-stop.

We had dinner, relaxed in the outdoor hot tub and pool, visited his friends, shopped, and just goofed off together. Saturday night we went to the wedding, which was outdoors on a golf course. The backdrop was the sun setting and after they were announced as man and wife, they all drove away on golf carts for a few putts at the end of the course. Then it was inside for drinks and dancing.

The test: would J pull me on the dance floor if a slow song came on? While this seems trivial, to me its one of the most romantic things a man can do with a woman. I grew up in a family that loved to dance. When I was a child my father would turn the radio on low late at night and pull my mother up off the couch in her gown and barefeet to dance to what ever slow song was playing. Every family reunion was centered around dancing.

Of course I just melted when J walked me to the dance floor. I wish I could remember what song was playing. All I can remember was his singing and my laughing. He’ll probably kill me if he reads this. He has his own renditions of certain songs, incorporating my name in them. Have I mentioned the man is hilarious? I would share what his lyrics are, but again, he’s probably reading this.

Damn it.

Lazy Ass

This morning was one of the hardest mornings this week to wake up and carry my butt to work. I was having one of those nights where every sound roused my interest (and fear), causing me to peek out from the covers to peer in the shadows of the corners of my room. My monkey was out of town so I had no long limbs wrapped around me, protecting me from these sounds… sounds that were most likely the apartment settling or the air conditioning popping.

Yes, I checked every closet and under my bed. Twice.

The alarm clock forgot to remind me to set it, and I woke up late. Ever have those mornings where you’re just dragging ass and nothing, NOTHING can light a fire under it? I threw a hissy when I realized I’d have to make my lunch before leaving. (Which is just strange because there was no one to throw the hissy in front of. Kind of like talking to yourself when there’s no one around.) When I make it to work and get out the car on the fourth row of the lot, my body is sagging from the morning heat and all I want to do is sit down on the concrete and wait for the next car to pass by. Wave them down. Offer the only money I have in my purse, a fiver, to just open the door and let me in, and will you please just drop me at the front of the building? No that’s alright, I’ll ask the next person I see to carry me in, but thanks anyway.

The elevator is open without having to push the button to signal it (thank God) and I step in alone. I want to hug the steel walls, to kiss the little lit #9 button.

Now if I can only pay someone to do my work, I’d be on my way to pure happiness. At least for today.

OCD Cured?

So I was at my parents this weekend for Father’s Day. It was time to go, and my family began the usual ritual associated with my departure – everyone gets up, Mom digs in the fridge and tries to send me home with something random “hun do you want some coleslaw? How about some chicken thighs?” and I’m rejecting the offer while Toot (my nephew) is suddenly distraught by my leaving, doing his best to climb up my leg to get to me. We walk outside, I kiss everyone bye and thank them for the day, tell Daddy I hope he likes the cap and DVD I gave him. Get in the car and beep the horn as I’m pulling off and waving bye.

>gasp< I think I’m cured! Usually there’s an entirely different ritual involved in my weekendly departure. (ha, love to make up words)

Normally, I have to kiss my family in a certain order: first I kiss Mom and hug her, then my sister, then I try to kiss Toot which usually results in a war, then I kiss and hug my father. Then I tell them I enjoyed the day, blah blah, and lean in to repeat the hugging and kissing in the same order as before.

If I do not kiss and hug them twice, I feel strange. And, it must be done in that exact order, or I have to stop and start over. Mom and Dad have to be at the beginning and end because I love them most, no offense to my sister and nephew, but they did give me life.

My family used to just laugh at me when I did this, then when they realized it was something I had to do, they started messing with me. Like for instance, Mom would lag behind in the house and say “Go ahead and start saying your good-byes, I’ll be right out,” knowing I couldn’t start without her. Or Dad would try to jump in front of my sis to be hugged, knowing I wouldn’t step back and tell him it wasn’t his turn. Ultimately I’d get flustered and just have to start over.

Okay, so this is really dumb and I know I don’t have OCD, but it is kinda entertaining how I feel compelled to do these things without reason.

I think since my life’s been changing recently, I’ve had more to think about and less to obsess over. Hmph. I’m cured! (Until I find my next obsession…)

Blog Found

Okay, so he didn’t actually find it, I sort of… gave it to him. Blame it on the love bug, but I just thought he would feel like I really trust him if I let him read it. And I do trust him. So I sent him the url. And get this – he told me he was hesitant to read it because he wasn’t sure if I really wanted him to read it. Awww…

There’s nothing on here that I need to hide, and after reading it he told me that he basically knew everything written anyway. Said he was flattered and seemed to get a little kick out of it. I’m not sure what I expected, but now that I think about it – I would be flattered too if someone had an online journal that featured posts about me!

I Never Blog

Check out the "I Never" blog, compliments of DJMetronome. http://ineverhaveyou.blogspot.com/

Don't be scared.

My WONDERFUL Friday Night – Dedicated to Michelli

Well, it seems I have left out a very important night of my weekend and have bruised a dear friend’s feelings. What she doesn’t know is that I had started an entry (usually beginning in MS Word and copy/pasting into blogger when its complete) but had not yet finished it. Ever start a blog and not feel the ending is what you want it to be? Well, that’s where I was, okay? >sob<

So Friday night J and I decided to bbq some chicken legs – wait, let me stop here and add on. Miss FunkyFreshCool seems to think we bbq chicken tits, but they were leg joints. Ha, I just said joint. Sounds like Miss FFC has some TLC (titty loving care) on her mind. BUT HOW CAN SHE NOT? Her puppies are monsterous now that she’s an incubator. (Are you embarrassed now Michelli? Want some more? Don’t mess with me man!)

Our favorite couple, Dave and Carmen, aka David & Michelli, came over to grub with us. The entrée was bbq chicken, some fried eggplant (with sugar, though I’m not sure anyone caught on) and pasta salad. Mmm! For an appetizer Michelli and I devoured nearly an entire jar of queso with tortilla chips while the men stared at the pit and talked about cars. Apparently I have sympathy hunger pains for my pregnant friend and think I can eat for two as well.

After dinner we watched the boys play video games and browsed through scrapbook magazines, my new favorite obsession thanks to the Scrapbook Queen herself. A little randomness, a lot of laughter, and yes, quite a few snorts out of Michelli and we were all pooped and ready to call it a night.

I must say, having another couple to hang out with really makes the whole relationship seem real. My friends never left me out of things just because I was single, but I see the ones that are part of couple more now than ever, and I love it.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

I'm not really sure I agree with this little survey thing, as I'm not high strung, but it was entertaining. Stole it from James site: http://hambonestyle.blogspot.com/

You Are a Chihuahua Puppy

Small, high strung, and loyal.You do best in the city with a adults - young kids could crush you!

What'>http://blogthings.com/whatbreedofpuppyareyouquiz/">What Breed of Puppy Are You?

Women and Cat Calls

This weekend I went to see a comedian at a local bar with J and some friends and I noticed something that has always particularly confused the hell out of me. Women who dress for attention but get pissed when they receive it from the wrong person.

If you are going to wear a bright red halter shirt that shows off the puppies or a skirt smaller than a head band, then expect some comments. Please note that you do not have control over who it will be that makes the comments but that you do have some control over the comments made by the outfit that you present yourself in. If you show up dressed decently and some jackass makes a rude comment, your slapping him is way more justified.

Highly unlikely that you are going to pick up the handsome suit in the corner who lives in the swanks that makes more than your entire family put together because if they wanted a girl that dresses like a hooker, well, they could afford to just go out and buy one. However, if you are dressing as eye candy, the average (and occasionally toothless) Joe is receiving the show for free, so don’t expect him to keep him mouth shut unless you want to throw on a potato sack.

Okay, I’m done.

Costumes & Curse Words

I was thinking today of my old roomie Lola and some of the random shit we used to do. The thoughts started when I came across an old 80’s style house coat she gave me. We both had a thing for robes and house coats, but this one what every 80’s housecoat should be: lime green with HUGE white buttons down the front with white rick rack accenting every edge and the collar. Large pockets in the front to hold who knows what, because why exactly would you be in a housecoat long enough to store something in the pockets?

The housecoat made me think of her costume bin. Yes, she had a costume bin, and a large one I might add, of silly costumes including a man’s plant jumpsuit with sewed on name tag, maid’s dress with feather duster, a waitress dress (Flo’s Diner style) and some animal print cowboy hats.

To save money we stayed in a lot at night. We got bored. On occasion we would order pizza, get dressed in costume and act like nothing when the pizza boy delivered. On one occasion she answered the door in the yellow Flo’s waitress outfit while I passed by in the background a few times in the bright blue man’s work jumpsuit. I think I had pressed her earlier to talk like she was from Jersey, but I’m pretty sure it took a lot just to open the door in that outfit.

We made up curse words, which I believe started in traffic. “Look at this idiot! You stupid idiot-f*#k!” Our favorites were bitchhead and son-of-a-f*#ker, and we tried others that eventually bombed because they just weren’t catchy enough. Oh! Asswhore. I’ve always liked Pig f*#k. Oh, and the best one – Face f*#ker – used in specific cases only. That’s a lot of “f” word, sorry.

I must say I AM NOT A DIRTY GIRL, but I do love a good cursing session every once in a while. And it was fun making them up with Lola. It reminded me of being 13 and still wanting to play with barbies. You’re too embarrassed to bring up that you still like playing with barbies (or making up cursewords) and then somehow your friend starts it up before you have to.

There’s something about a curse word that just perfectly accents your thought.

For example: J, was being so sweet the other day (like that's unusual) that I was just filled up with this incredible urge to tell him“I f*#kin’ love you!”. Well, I wrote it on our message board. Huh. I just said "our" instead of "my". Focus! When he read it, he raised his voice and reciprocated (the same way), the best reaction I’ve ever when using the “F” word.

And another – this came from a movie or book I once read. Can’t remember. The woman says that she’s at a friend’s house eating spaghetti. The friend was nice enough to cook dinner, and afterwards everyone is giving the usual boring thank yous and the woman walks up to her and tells her “Thanks for having me. That was some great f*ckin’ spaghetti.” I would see the truth in that sentence and blush with pride over my delicious dish.

Hmm. I’m sure I’ll regret posting this blog.

I NEVER

Sometimes I want to post something but have nothing to ramble on about. A fellow blogger thought it would be cool to have a separate "i never" blog. I'm stealing his idea for the day.

"I never" woke up in the morning on the floor of my bedroom not remembering falling off.

Birthday Surprise

Today's is J's birthday. I just had to share my latest project, these love coupons I made for him. They say "This coupon is redeemable for one___" and include coupons for a home cooked meal, dessert, get out of jail free pass, and more.

I Never

So J and I decided it would be funny to get drunk together. I know, sounds like something you would do in high school, maybe even college. Still, we wanted to see how we’d be together. (And I think we both secretly wanted to see what kind of information would escape our mouths under the influence.)

Lemon Drops it is! After a day at the parents, we stop by an Albertsons for the necessary ingredients and land at the apartment. J asks if I know of any drinking card games. No, I say, but I do know this one drinking game….

Have you ever played “I never”? It’s the best way to learn all about someone. The object is to get the other person to drink, unless of course you wish to drink yourself. Can work for or against you. You start by saying “I never” and insert something you have never done. If someone else has done this certain something, then they must drink.

For example “I’ve never been in a relationship.” Most everyone will drink, unless for some reason they haven’t been in one. If I wanted Romantic Fool (a fellow blogger) to drink, I would say “I’ve never been tattooed.” Or, if I said to J “I’ve never dated someone I went to high school with”, then he and I would both have to drink because we went to high school together.
It’s fun and yet very dangerous. Some “I nevers” that I threw at J were pretty off the wall, but on occasion he would drink to them, and I found myself squirming in my chair. He admitted later that he felt the same way. The next day I amazingly woke up without a hangover. Not really sure I want to do that again any time soon, but at least I know I can still put ‘em down like I could in college. And that if I ever want to know something about J, I can always get it out of him with a few lemon drops and the words “I never”.

Man in the House: Follow Up

Apparently, my guy is a good cook. And – ready for this girls? – he cleans up too!! (Okay guys, don’t get mad. I’m jaded from living with a father and brother who left their dirty socks everywhere and didn’t know what ‘put the cup in the dishwasher’ meant.)

I was amazed walking up to the apartment after work to see him waiting for me, a new grill sitting on the patio. T-Bones and baked potatoes. I’m not a big meat and potatoes girl, but yum! He then proceeded to pick up my plate after we were done, and >gasp< load the dishwasher. I looked him in the eyes, grabbed his face and said “Who are you?”

I suppose this proves that I may have dated some punks or mama’s boys in the past…

Later we went for a dip in the pool, and had a heart to heart. I’m still reeling from the L word conversations last weekend and he goes and throws a few words like “never before” and “a long time” at me. I almost drowned.

Oh, and the ‘boyfriend being alone in the apartment thing’ – I have a little project I’m working on for him for his b-day, so I threatened his life and told him I wouldn’t give him his presents if I found out he rummaged through my craft box. I actually checked the box before I left him in the apartment alone so that I would be able to tell if he had looked. He didn’t look.

However… while in the pool, J told me he happened across a pic of the ex and I in a drawer while looking for a koozi. I had no idea it was in there. I don’t really have anything to hide, so I guess if he was being nosy it wouldn’t really matter.

Yet, I did feel compelled to pull my journal out of it’s hiding spot that morning and take it with me to work…

Man in the House

Hmm. I left the apartment this morning with J still snuggled up in the covers. This relationship is really testing my trust and comfort levels. Right now I’m at about an 8 on the comfort level. (But don’t tell J because he thinks I’m at 6.) He has the day off so he plans to run some errands and pick up groceries for dinner – major bonus points in the bank account of love – and have dinner started when I come home. Can we say sweetheart?

Don’t get me wrong, I love being with him. We have a blast together and possess the same wacky sense of humor. We just get each other. There’s not a moment when I’m with him that I think “I’m ready to go home and be alone for a while”. However, I’m a bit on edge about having him in my apartment while I’m not there, free to roam my collections and habits and strange quirks. Yet in a way, this could totally free me of my trust issues. I hope he opens my closet and sees how I just throw shit on the floor, I hope he runs into my collection of Barry Manilow figurines. If he’s still there when I get home, I’ll be free. I’ll feel I have nothing to hide.

(And I’m very much kidding about the Barry Manilow figurines.)

Self-Absorbed

I realize blogs are basically online journals, but some of the ones I’ve been reading lately are so completely self-absorbed that I want to reach through the computer and shake the blogger.

You can really tell what a person is really like by their blog. Of course you’re going to talk about yourself mostly, its your blog, but sometimes you can go a little too far. I imagine I come off as a paranoid, maybe a little flighty, occasionally strange person, but at least I don’t have entire blogs devoted to myself and who I am and what’s so cool about me. IT’S A BLOG for pete’s sake.

Wow. That was a paragraph drenched in Haterade. And to think I woke up in the best mood this morning…

Blog Not Found

I feel a bit more secure about posting The L Word. After a few people commented that it can be found, I did some serious googling. My real name isn’t on here. I’m listed under a nickname that J doesn’t know about. He doesn’t know the name of my blog. I think I’m safe.

However, this concern for the finding of my blog has created a whole new level of paranoia for me. If you know me well, and there are a few people on here that do, then you know I’m already a worry wart. I find myself being censored now. I hate it.

The L Word

I’ve been meaning to post this all day, but its one of those things that I worry will come bite me in the ass later on. J has been asking me about reading my blog lately, not to mention he gets the biggest kick out of calling me a dork for even having a blog. Of course, I haven’t given him the URL and there are no names on here for googling, so I’m safe, right?

For the last week or two there have been moments with J that feel so perfect that a certain three word remark has come way too close to escaping my mouth. I’ve learned from past relationships that when certain feelings are expressed too quickly and openly that its often cause for disaster. I mean, we’ve been friends for over 10 years, but have only been romantically involved for a little over a month. So, I’ve held it in, bit my tongue, yet we have had a couple of conversations that have danced all around those feelings and three little words.

Saturday J finally met a good friend of mine, Lola (as seen in posts earlier in the year) and everything went amazingly well. We had lunch, margaritas, and great conversation. J had already met Michelli and her hubby, and well, Michelle can get along with a pit bull, so I wasn’t too worried about them liking each other. I really care about my friends/beau getting along with each other and seeing how well they interacted was just one more Ben Franklin in his love account for me.

My new leather sofa was delivered that day, and after Lola and her man left we snuggled down to take a nap on it, to break it in if you will. And that’s when he told me he was falling for me. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

I’ve told him that I’m so worried something is going to take him away, that something is going to happen or come between us. To me, relationships have always been like a walk in the dark in a cluttered house. After a several steps without any bumps you start to feel comfortable enough to let loose, offer up feelings, kiss a little harder, love a little stronger, start walking without your hands in front of you. And then suddenly something smacks you in the knee… a terrible moral difference, a past you can’t accept, commitment issues. I’m waiting for that something to smack me in the knee, but it hasn’t yet.

We talked about the L word again on Sunday out at the river. Hearing him express his feelings openly but with this obvious child-like vulnerability made my heart hurt.

*DJ told me I needed to post, so there, I’ve posted. Now I’m the one feeling all vulnerable… ;)

Interview Update

Well, the interview went well but was ultimately just target practice for me. Apparently they were looking for an intern or freelancer, and the latter would be great but holding two jobs down has never been easy for me. (Especially when the first one sucks all the life and energy out of you.)

What the interview did provide for me was a sense of self, a renewal of self-confidence if you will. I had forgotten what my portfolio looked like and was pleasantly surprised that it was still up to date and didn’t need tweaking. Updating my resume wasn’t so much a chore but a reminder of how far I’ve come since graduating college. Being able to talk design with two other young designers without stumbling made me feel taller, even when walking out of that gorgeous studio knowing I wasn’t going to work there.

The interview also supplied me with two other leads. I’m not expecting anything, but the practice alone is worth it.