(Yesterday)

Remember that time I whined and bitched and moaned about not having any money because I spent it all in a fit of depression... and then that night I booked a trip to Honduras. That was a funny day, wasn't it?.

Psychological Spending

Note: I had planned on writing this post prior to kj’s comments on yesterday’s blog. Strange how friends can be connected like that, isn’t it? Anyway, with that said, let it begin.

Shopping. Shopping makes me feel good. Anyone who knows me knows this. Since the purchase of my house, I have resisted the urges to make frivolous purchases to stick to some sort of budget. “Budget” is used loosely; it has nothing to do with saving money or any stupid bullshit like that.

When I shop, a little “buy this to feel happy” voice screams to me, “So what if you don’t have a boyfriend; so what if you’re taller than average; so what if you don’t have friends here; so what if you’re fat… at least you have money to spend – buy, baby, buy!!” I’ve resisted this voice; I’ve been strong. (And no, I still haven’t resisted the “Don’t stop at two - eat the whole pizza,” or “One more line of coke won’t hurt you,” voices.)

In the last week, I’ve been feeling depressed and weak. In the last week, I’ve spent $500… not including the new Coach bag I put on Mr. Plastic (aka Mr. Mounting Debt). This has led me into phase two of my depression – “I do not have the money right now. How am I going to afford this crap??” Enter phase three – “I’m 26, making an engineer’s salary, and still taking money from my parents.” Well, you know the rest – robbery, drugs, feeding bugs to the homeless kid in my basement, and eating myself into another pant size.

Fall into Depression

Autumn is usually my favorite season, but this season it sucks. It's having the opposite effect on my emotions and making me very depressed. Not the Zoloft-popping, on the edge of a building, pissing myself and asking for demands like having ex-boyfriends list the reasons they broke up with me kind of depression. It's more like the singing-the-blues, feeding barking dogs anti-freeze to feel better kind of depression. I always thought I loved fall because of the changing weather and the beautiful foliage (cliche, I know). But I recently discovered such is not the case. I love autumn for what is used to mean: the beginning of the social calendar (school starting), football games, basketball, being with friends, sweatshirts, shopping the new fall lines, not breaking into a sweat on the 104 degree walk into work... you know, the usual stuff. So now that many of those elements are gone (in particular, the whole friends and social calendar thing), it has left me pretty bummed out. I had managed to dodge the fall season the last couple years, but being back in the temperate Midwest, it's in full swing and I've noticed.

For the record, I hate writing about feelings and emotions and crap like that on a blog. It should be filled with drunken merriment and the fun of killing baby seals, but fuck it. I'm feeling blue and screw you for judging me. Assholes. (Ok, maybe I do need Zoloft.)

More on this tomorrow... if I manage to make it out of bed in the morning. (kidding)

Football

I wrote this lengthy post about my undying love for the MN Vikings and how I hate when people who call themselves "fans" badmouth 'their' team/coach/players... but since I am trying to shake that whole "I'm pretty sure she a lesbian," thing, I thought I should forgo the post. Long story short, Go Vikes!!

My truck, the first 50K.

These are the events detailing my truck's infancy (the first 50,000 miles). As much as I hate when people personify inanimate objects... 'she' did not get to go everywhere or do everything with me, but it's been a solid run, thus far. (Yes, I own a truck and no, I am not a lesbian... kj, the jury's still out on you and your butch truck; I think your husband is just a cover.)

27 months
3 countries
17 states
15 oil changes (an approximation)
8 airports
4 accidents (1 car, 1 garage, 1 pole (twice))
2 adventure races
3 "boyfriends" er, ex-boyfriends
5 camping trips
11 Catholic churches
10 company locations
8 concerts/music festivals
2 desserts
0 times was driven drunk
2 times a police officer thought it was being driven drunk
12 golf courses
1 Grand Canyon
2 Great Lakes
7 mountain ranges
4 new tires
3 national parks
1 ocean
14 professional sporting events
6 places to call home
3 speeding tickets in 3 states
3 time zones

Saturday night

Is there anything better than getting drunk and line dancing at a cowboy bar, leaving and watching a great indie flick, driving home, getting high, and catching an SNL rerun with host Christopher Walken?? I think not. Ok, maybe sex mixed with harder drugs, but that's it.

Present's lost luster.

Dad: ... your Mom was telling him about the new iPod she's getting you for Christmas....
Me: I guess it's not going to be a suprise, is it?
Dad: Oh, you didn't know you were getting it?
Me: No, Dad.
Dad: Well, whatever. (pause) Don't tell your Mother.

Bloodline of kings...

Cutting off your nose to spite your face (Bunker Grandpa)

This is not a very fun post, but it's funny at the heart of it.

Before I get into this, it should be noted that pellet guns are found behind the door of nearly every Midwestern man who lives for "opening day".....

At my parent's home, there is a wooded area extending beyond the back yard. It has become a bit of a nature sanctuary with an abundance of deer, pheasant, native foul, and two rare European doves. As an avid hunter, my Dad has a great appreciation for the aforementioned wildlife, and takes pleasure in observing the habits of these animals. But he does not harbor the same feelings for all of God's creatures. No, my Dad's proudest moments come from shooting the rabbits, squirrels, and blackbirds that dare tread on his hallowed ground. Summer's killings: numerous blackbirds, 6 jackrabbits, and 4 squirrels (one of which he thought for sure was taunting him and called me immediately upon the single shot takedown last week). Whatever keeps the 'ol man happy... and I know every time he calls in a good mood, there's an easy $100 in it for me to weasel out of him.

My Dad (if it wasn't already crystally apparent) is an awesome guy. His Dad (my grandfather), however, is a total assholing prick... but the old mule has his moments. Anyway, killing yard foul is apparently a genetic trait or arrested development. Either way, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I slap down some stolen plastic for a pellet gun of my own. When my grandpa began loosing his steady hand, the WWII Veteran had a bunker built out of the basement of his house... a fucking bunker. Apparently, being a nut-job is also genetic. Although he and his wife have lots of birdhouses behind their Arkansas home, not all birds are welcome...

Grandfather: "I finally got those God-damned blackbirds; I used my shotgun. "
Dad: "What?! Really??? Didn't it blow the shit out of your birdhouse?"
Grandfather: "Well yeah, but at least I got the little fuckers."
Dad: "I guess." (heavy sarcasm)

Hard to believe it's the bloodline of kings, isn't it?

Coming Soon...

- My Truck, the First 50K
- Bunker Grandpa

FYI

It's finally Friday and I'm almost out for the weekend. I wanted to give you some heads up concerning next week. I will very busy performing engineering-like duties all day, every day (no, there is no punchline here) and as a result, I will not be posting during the day and may not post at all. I hope this doesn't adversely affect our relationship; you must realize that I do this not out of spite, hatred, or jealousy because you can remember the last time you stuck your penis in something warm that wasn't coming out of a microwave (for the male readers) or because you get to wear all sorts of cool skirts and comfy underwear and not get beat up for it (for the female readers). I do it out of love - I want to give you all I have, and if I can't, then I'm not gonna half ass it.

(And hey - at least I'm telling you this now, so you don't have to keep checking back, but I know you will because there is the off chance I'll throw out somehting brilliant, you know.)

Have a great weeknd!!!

Preface and Postscript

I just finished a book last night. (Yes, I know how to read.) I hate ending a book, I also hate starting books. I don't like starting a book because it's the fear of the unknown and there is some commitment involved. Since I haven't been in a committed relationship for a while, I should enjoy the feeling, just me and my book (and my vibrator). I also am uncomfortable starting a book when I am around other people; it's a little neurotic, I know. The beginning of most books are rather boring to me because it's all character development. I know this is very important, but I am anxious to get to the good stuff. I know Phil is clenching his fists right now because I am sure this statement qualifies me as the epitome of the "average moviegoer"and why films such as the Pacifier made a gagillion dollars and why all recent movie releases suck. Well, P - you suck. :-)

Books should be started in the comfort of your own home when you have some time to devote to getting through the preface and first chapter. Finding this time is easy for me, seeing as how my friends distanced themselves from me after that whole Halloween Manifesto thing in '01. If you take a new book with on vacation or to the airport, the book may suck; in which case, if you're anything like me - hot and available, you will be A) stuck with a book you don't want to read, forcing you to stare at people until the police politely escort you out of the area, or B) stuck reading a shitty book when you could be stalking that guy you started following in the C Concourse.

The ending of books are worse. I'm not sure why, but I never have a good feeling after I've finished a book, not like the one I get after I've polished off a pint of Dreamery Ice Cream. There is no achievement of success, not that I've felt much (any) of that in my lifetime, but you know what I mean. Hating the completion of books, I usually end up reading the boring acknowledgements pages and that sort of bullshit. Well, how lame is this - it's like being in a theater and watching the credits after you've seen the words "The End" (which, you rarely see now-a-days, anyway).

This is why I am often reading two books at the same time, figuratively of course, not simultaneously. (Shit do I have to spell everything out for you people.) I just can't go through ending and starting a book without some sort of break between; a little neurotic, I know.

The End. (See how nice that sounds).

Immature Funny.

So, I have been working at this facility since May and I just turned 26, but I still giggle every time I here the transportation (shipping/receiving) people talk about "dropping a load".

Prolapsed Anything

My head is pounding, my complexion is ruddy, and my eyes are bloodshot. I have the shakes, the chills, and the runs. I'm not answering my phone, I can't focus on work. And I dont think it's a result of my diet. (Yes, I started a diet... again.) It's just been a long week. I flew in late on Sunday and so I probably started the week off badly. Last night rounded out 40.5 hours of work on the week - it was only Wednesday. Surprisingly, 98% of this time was spent doing actual work. I haven't even really had a moment to enjoy myself, with the exception of robbing the prostitute on my way home from work, but even that didn't give me the same pleasure it usually does. I was looking forward to blowing off part of today... mail some packages, mow the lawn, maybe get a massage.... a "Chinese massage". I checked my schedule - fricken booked. (In fact, I am in a net meeting right now.) Tomorrow and the subsequent weekend is not an option, as I am leaving to head up to America's Dairyland for the weekend.

With that behind me, I am going to try to post less about work because my feelings toward my job have been misconstrued. I don't hate my job, I like it... like polishing off an 18 piece chicken finger dinner in one sitting. Sure, the people here are sucky but people are sucky everywhere. This job is moving my career and there is life beyond what I am doing here, personally and professionally. Since I am clearing things up, I would also like to inform you that I was NOT the one on the LA County Courthouse pissing myself and screaming lines of Shakespeare, despite internet rumors.

Stellar Blogging

So, my blogs have really sucked lately. It's a combination of things, I'm sure. One, I'm tired - like constantly (I hope it's mono and not HIV). Two, my life doesn't suck. Three, my life sucks. I know this seems like a contradiction of Two, but there are different interpretations of life and the suckiness, thereof. On the sucky side, I am in a bit of a routine - work, eat, watch porn, eat, masturbate, sleep, and then repeat the schedule when I get home from work. So, there is very little to post about. On the not-so-sucky side, I have a good job, family, health, etc. As far as the blogs go, I'm just not feeling fresh lately. Although my mind is full of ideas, I get lazy half-way through the post and stop... kinda like sex.

I know, I should just not post, but I know how fun it is to click on someone's blog and see that he or she has posted something new. But, I suppose there are some ill feelings when the post sucks. I guess I never thought about that. Kinda like sex - all sex is good sex?? No, not necessarily.

I'm not sure where I am going with this - probably straight to the strip club, but other than that, I got noth'n. I need to figure out if it's better to not post than to post the crap I have been tossing out lately. Hmmm...

Super glue really sticks

The weekend was an alright one. I got to hang with my folks some, which I dig but the Vikes lost badly. They looked like crap but somehow managed to stay in the game, only to throw it away in the end, literally and figuratively. The wedding proved not to be as awkward as I expected, for reasons I wont get into. It was a little awkward to wake up naked next to my friend and her husband, though, but whatever.

I had to be here super early this morning (relatively speaking, tbc) because I had to mentor a group of warehouse operators with some improvement projects. Mentor, my ass - I have been working my little hiney off... ok, so I've been working my not-so-little hiney off. I'm dirty, my skin is dry, and my back hurts. WTF?? Am I a wuss - maybe. Do I whince at physical labor - possibly. Have I been spoiled sitting in the controlled climate of my cubical - you bet. It's not that I mind giving head... oh wait, my mind wandered. As I was going to say, it's not that I mind doing manual work (which could include giving head, I suppose), I just want a little head's up about it.... after speaking so much about blow jobs, there was no pun intended. If I am going to be in working in the warehouse, I wan't to wear comfy clothes and not bother with a morning shower when I could've gotten 15 more minutes of sleep or at least used the time to masturbate.

But, at least I just got up from laying my head down for ten minutes, giving the women I work with just enough time to whisper about me sleeping on the job.... if they only knew.

Toilet My Time

Hmm... where do I begin without boring you all to death? Porn, pussy, lesbians, that's a start; I'll try to throw things in to keep it interesting. It's no secret I work as an engineer and lately, I have been assigned a lot of projects as a result of employees' idiocy. I am so not even kidding. I'm also not kidding about the countless friends I know who have actually banged two chicks at the same time. Today was the pinnacle of ridiculousness. We do not have air conditioning in the warehouse, so operators will open dock doors (used for semi truck loading) for ventilation. Operators will also open their legs to fellow employees because the men and women in the warehouse are adulterous sluts. We have NUMEROUS dock doors, extending the length of the facility and any one of these doors could be opened or closed at any time. With that said, the following e-mail communication made it's way to me.

Area Supervisor to Warehouse Superintendent&Plant Manager: "Issue: Dock Door 1 is often left open for air flow and daylight etc. Subsequently drivers and other personnel are found wandering around in the supervisors office and in the warehouse. Improvement Suggestion: Install a screen door."
Warehouse Superintendent&Plant Manager to Area Supervisor: "As long as it doesn't interfere with outbound, I do not see problem. Let's go for it."
Warehouse Superintendent to Me: "Can you work with [DUMB] and [DUMBER] to spec out what is needed and arrange for the installation."
Me to Warehouse Superintendent: (paraphrasing) How about just telling the operators to keep the fucking dock door closed?!

Do I even need to tell you who worked out specs and cost estimates for Dock Door 1's new screen door today? $2500 + electrician labor

Unbelievable... only, it's not really. Unbelievable is me constantly fantasizing about wanting to be taken from behind while I was going down on another guy.... only, it's not really.

Not Getting the Worm

Every night before I go to bed, I ambitiously set my alarm for super damn early. Well, not every night because so often I find myself in some stranger's bed. When I lived in California, it was almost unheard of if I arrived to work after 6:30AM. It was also unheard of for me not to finish a dozen donuts by 9:30 (and I'm not talking mini donuts, either). Even during my first few months here in Illinois, I was always in to work way early. Don't get me wrong, it was not to impress my coworkers or to work longer hours, it was because if you're in early, you leave early. In by six, skip lunch and out the door at two... that's the way I did it and it was oh so sweet. Now, when my alarm goes off at 5:30 (used to be 5), I'm lucky if I make it out the door by 7:30... and it's getting later and later everyday. What the hell happened? (and why can't I find my birth control pills?) How it is that I ended up rolling into work at NINE o'clock this morning.... and I didn't even shower (I showered last night). I need to get some early bird discipline back and start enjoying my afternoons again... after all, afternoons are the best time to stalk my ex-boyfriend (a silly little restraining order isn't going to stop me).

Wedding Season '05

My last wedding of the season is this weekend, second to last of 2005. For those of you unsure, the wedding season is from May 15 through Sept 15. This leaves me just two more opportunities in 2005 to take advantage of a drunk groomsman, or the usher, or the usher's cousin, or the usher's cousin's Dad. Now that I think of it, I may only have one opportunity left, as the October wedding is a "commitment ceremony" and I am not sure what the straight:gay ratio will be. It's not that I wouldn't go down on a chick, I just don't want to be "surprised" when I get down there, if you know what I mean. I know I have talked endlessly about weddings, but consider this the last one... at least until October. On a crazy note, there are no weddings scheduled for 2006, not yet, anyway... but condoms fail. (Did anyone get that?)

Aside from making me feel desperately alone, this season's weddings also:

• made me a good liar.
• took me to exotic (read: rural) locales throughout the upper Midwest.
• gave me reasons to put off my diet for another week.
• gave me reasons to go off my diet.
• provided opportunities to further shame my parents.
• granted me enough miles for three free frequent flier tickets.
• depleted my bank account.
• progressed my cirrhosis.
• released a story of the time I woke up naked next to a nameless person I only vaguely remember doing shots with, only to have this nameless person hand me the phone because it was my parents calling; they noticed some sexy panties stuck in the door and assumed they were mine and that I needed to return to the room to pack my stuff.
• were a fucking blast.

Here's to weddings, the people who have them, and me - glad that I'm single and can enjoy them!!

Weekend in Review

Bed times: 4am, 2:30am, 3am, respectively.
Bars visited: 8
Liquors drank: 5 (number of drinks unknown)
Vikings wins: 1
Times arrested (almost): 1
Boys kissed: 1
Weddings attended: 0!!!
Number of text messages sent while waiting for bathroom: 7
Twins wins: 2 (sadly, also 2 losses)
Times pleasured by self: 4
Naps: 3
Strippers: 3
Showers: 5
Misdemeanors: 2, which were total bullshit and I'll be cleared of them by week's end
To Do List items completed: 0

I think it's pretty safe to say it was damn good weekend.

Just in Case

I amended my death arrangements today. No, I do not have a terminal illness, but assuredly the drugs, speeding, and uncooked meats will catch up to me someday. I keep a document (that my parents know about) on my computer in the off chance "my time comes". This includes funeral requests (music, scriptures, pall bearers, etc) and a few other weird things I want done or communicated. I just don't want my folks working out details like this in their time of grief... I'll use "grief" lightly, as their sorrow may be directly proportional to how recently I've been arrested, stolen their car, or wiped out their bank account. I know this is kinda 'dark' and all, but I think it's foolish not to face your own mortality. Additionally, I am a control freak and why should things be any different just because I die. I don't want some douche bag hauling my dead ass or being a part of my big finale.

Every year or so, I review the document and make changes, when necessary. I can't remember the last time I made a change, but today was a complete overhaul. So weird. It reminded me of how my life has changed in the past year and how my relationships with others have changed, as well. It also reminded me I need to buy a new turkey baster (don't ask).

Ok, so is it really bizarre that I have this "will" or moreso, that I am so casual about my own death? I'd love to hear your comments. Although I don't really give a shit what you people think, so I'll probably jus use what you have to say as fuel to make fun of you later, so comment at your own risk.

PS: Gas per gallon here: $3.51

Ladies in the Office.

The joys of people at work, namely, the hardened women who look like they've been run over by a semi three times. I know I said I don't like to complain but I also said I didn't like anal and we all know where that ended up... no pun intended.

1) Just because I don't buy my wardrobe from the same place I can pick up a can of peas and a fishing lure does not mean I have a "hot date", so quit fucking asking.
2) The perfume does not cover up your filthy smoking scent, nor does the gum cover up your filthy smoking breath... and, you're ugly.
3) When you think I am laughing with you, I am really laughing at you and thinking what an idiot you are.
4) Just because I'm sweating profusely and reek of Jack Daniels and cheap cologne does not mean I had a "hot date", so quit fucking asking.
5) My "big fancy new truck" is not big, fancy, or new... but your ass is huge.
6) I am way out of their league, so I would never grant a man (or a woman) working here a "hot date", so quit fucking asking.
6) When I look disinterested, I am, so stop talking. When I look tired, I am, so stop talking. When I look like I've just spent the night in my car because I was working for crack and was too messed up to remember where I lived, I did, so stop talking. You know what, just stop fucking talking, period.

Ok, that's all. I'll get back to nicey-nice posts soon, nicey-nice is relatively speaking, of course.

Totally Cramping My Style

As a general rule, I do not like to talk about the workings of my body; this includes such things as bowel movements, black toes, intestinal disorders, and orgasms. As many (ok, two) of you know, I occasionally bend this rule. Today is one of those days.

I had to take a couple operators on a field trip (60 miles away) to check out some equipment I want to purchase for the facility. Mid-presentation, I get some of the worst stomach cramps of my young, hot, amazing life. It wasn't a "I think I need to go to the bathroom or my ass will explode," thing. It was a "Who the fuck is drilling a corkscrew through my lower intestines?" thing. As a woman, I have experienced killer cramps before and as a nut-job, I've also been crippled with stomach ulcers - this was different. My whole body ceased because the pain was so intense. It was most similar in intensity of the pain I experienced when my left nipple was stapled to a bathroom door in Amsterdam (don't ask). Here I was with two operators (one being the hottest guy at the facility - not that it's saying much) and two salespeople in the middle of a warehouse. After what seemed like 18 minutes, the pain subsided.... only to return. I finally excused myself for a moment (awkwardly) and went into the bathroom - nothing. What wrath had God punished me with??! I know I masturbated three times yesterday, but since when did He start punishing me for that?! I splashed some water on my face and returned. After one more 'episode', the cramps mysteriously stopped. WTF?

In other news, I am still getting little itchy bumps on my body. I hope the man whores I've been fooling around with lately haven't given me something.