"Why do you hate me?"

I got a "Private Call" tonight and I have no idea who it was and they knew I didn't know who they were and I blew him off and told him to call me back and he didn't and now, it's bugging the royal crap out of me. (yes, I am fully aware that was the longest jr high sentence ever) At first, I thought it was a couple people but they would not have said "you don't even know who this is, do you?" Hmm... then, I thought it was one other person, but I don't remember giving my number out to him... shoot. This is TOTALLY bugging me - I wish I wouldn't have switched over to the other line before finding out who the mystery man was.

Damn me... and damn, I hope he calls back (desperate - never, sexually curious - always).

Forgetting the Past

So, MTV's RW/RR Battle Challenge Gauntlet thing is about to start. I don't get into the Real World or Laguna Beach or any of that garbage, but I am a major junkie for this show. Pitting former castmembers against each other, those who are desperately extending their 15 minutes by creating drama and beating each other metally and physically, to win enough money to continue putting off the pursuit of a real job. It's a lot like my life so what's not to like?! Well, guess where they filmed this season - fucking Tobago. I watched the season preview and already recognized a couple places (bars). As a result, I am even more excited to watch the show because of the location's familiarity and yet, (and I really hate to stay on this point), it is totally going to be a weekly reminder of how much I miss that damn island. It should be noted when I saw the RW cast in Costa Rica, I missed that place, too... but it was many months later. The Gauntlet show is painfully airing the day after my return! Is this a sign or is God punishing me for doing drugs, having random sexual partners and abusing disabled kids at school? No one can really know for sure. Ok, I know how sick and tired you all are of hearing about this and so as of now - I am done. I am putting it behind me and letting go. Not that MTV needs any plugs from this unknown soldier but I encourage you to watch the show - it's truly a guilty pleasure.

The Tumors are Rue

I am not a racist. Oh sure, there were those hate crimes I committed, but you can hardly count dragging a family of black-asian Islamic Jews behind your pickup a ‘crime’. I grew up in a very liberal family and many of my friends and their families are open to people of all cultures, as well… for the most part. As more of us moved to large schools and metro areas, the chances of one of us dating other races increased and so have the discussions about this very topic. Being the angelic whitey in a sea of beautiful black men (and having hot sensual sex with a number of them) brought the topic up again. It’s always interesting to hear the opinions of my friends and those of their parents; usually best defined as a “not in my backyard” attitude. Whereby, “I am not racist, but I don’t think I could ever date someone outside my race,” and “My parents have no problem with interracial relationships as long as I’m not in one.” I can respect that. As for me, people are people (Depeche Mode shout-out). My parents? They could care less, too. (Not that it matters, but it should be noted two of my mom’s sisters married black men.) I’m not sure where I was going with this… maybe I’m trying to endorse the thought of actually dating any one of the countless non-white men I’ve slept with over the years… yeah, I’m sure that’s it.

Ugh.

I had this great post and it locked up during publishing and of course, I am too lazy to rewrite the damn thing. Ok, so maybe it wasn't "great" but it was certainly better that today's "Job Review" post. Maybe I'll get to it later... or tomorrow... or never. Fuck.

Job Review

I’m sure you are all anxiously awaiting news from my job review. No? Well, you’re going to hear it anyway. It was a total joke. Let me background this for you – you have to fill out an Employee Contribution and Development Summary (EC&DS), outlining your goals and accomplishments for the year. Then, in your annual review, you discuss it with your supervisor and he takes it to the management committee for review. Usually, this is the time you discuss improvements and pitfalls, etc. At least that is how it went with my previous manager – not this time, however. In my meeting, my supervisor read over my EC&DS (even thought I had given it to him two weeks prior), told me to make a grammatical correction, and that was it. I walked out and wondered what the hell had happened. I’ve been feeling he is a poor manager from some time but this takes the cake. Sure, I am an AMAZING employee what with all of my blogging and Instant Messaging skills, but surely he could’ve offered something. Oh well, maybe no news is good news. Whatever.

PPD

I'm back in the states and couldn't be more depressed about it. It's as bad as the time someone ate my Lenten biscuits. Melissa echoed the sentiments, maybe moreso, as she called in tears shortly after her plane touched down. I wonder if this is a little bit like postpartum depression? (Though I'll never know.) True, everyone returns from vacation a little sad to be back to their reality, but this year has been worse than any other in memory. I know it's a combination of things, all of which I could rattle off to you loyal strangers, but you'll have to go to Tobago and come back with the memories and sadness of your own. I really don't mean to be such a Monday Debbie Downer. It's just that as much as I'd love to wallow in my self-pity, I have my annual job review today, so I have to play out the "I love my job" overtones... but not on this blog. I do hope each of you had a safe and wonderful Thanksgiving and I expect to hear (or read) about the holiday's highlights from each of you.

Happy Thanksgiving

We went out again last night to a local "talent show", which probably turned out about 2-300 people and was a lot of fun. A local Rastafarian celebrity performed too, which was awesomely rad. My friend, Melissa, and I ran into a lot of the "eccentrics" from the Sunday prior and if we would've totally hooked up with them if we were not so hung up on only sleeping guys who have "most of their teeth" or "a job". I danced some, but for the most part, found a couple new friends and clung to their and Ronnie's side while Melissa danced the night away with random Tobago locals. She is much kinder than I and can't say "no" quite as easily as myself. When you are in a foreign country, it's very difficult to give the 'ol "fuck off, asshole" line and even after you politely make it perfectly clear you want nothing to do with them, some just keep bugging you. Naturally, I did what any woman in my position would do - smoked a lot of weed and made out a little with hottie Ronnie to send an "I'm not very available" vibe. There's more to tell but to some degree, what happens in 'bago, stays in 'bago.

Please eat a large helping of Turkey and potatoes for me... I'll have an extra helping of shrimp for y'all.

Checking In

Hey. Day three or four in Tobago (who really keeps track)... don't you just fucking hate internet journals from people's vacations?!? They may be the worst things ever. Strangers going on and on about places you'll never see and you sure as hell don't want them telling you about them. So, I'll just stick to the partying and the sex, which there has been a little of some and none of the other. You can guess which is which. Ok, we went to "Sunday School" last night. It's basically a big ass party in an open air band shell type thing place... the party starts after midnight. To the irritation of my friend, Melissa, I picked up a hitchhiker on the way- he was attractively dressed and wearing Diesel jeans so I figured how bad could he be. It proved to be a good move on my part (Although I am not always the best judge of character, I am always right.) Our new friend "Ronnie" ended up showing us a great time and we even saw his silly black ass a few times. The party provided us with lots of "eccentrics" to write about, to say the least. (Maybe later) Of course Melissa and I were hit on a million times by the locals and the Canadians (damn them Canuks), so it wasn't much different than Chicago... I'm just SOOO desirable to islanders of the West Indies... and dwellers to the North. I thought I would check in and I'll probably write later this week.... Barbados tomorrow. (Fucking bragger - I know, I know.)

On Vacation

Love you. Miss you. Check back soon!!

Postcards

Happy Friday, bitches - I'm leaving for vacation!! Like I mentioned last week, winter brings vacation. For this year's Thanksgiving Family Holiday, it's off to the beautiful island of TOBAGO!!! (We are also flying to Barbados on a day trip.) I am so totally ready for a break, you have no idea. But who isn't, right? Even when I lived in sunny Southern California, I was ready for the Holiday break. Yes, I am going on vacation with my parents and yes, this may seem totally lame (even though my parents totally kick ass), but you are soooo mistaken. Vacations with my parents are the greatest things ever because A) they don't cost me a dime, not one, B) whatever you feel like doing, you can just go do it (and did I mention they pay for it?!), C) a week of full of awesome meals that don't come from someone in a polo shirt and plastic gloves (c'mon, you didn't really think I would go without mentioning food, did you?), and the best part is D) they let me take my friend(s)!! (How else would you make friends if you couldn't buy them off, I'm sure it's exactly like buying Africans in the colonial south... but what a bunch of whiners they turned out to be. )

It should be noted there is no doubt in my mind that these vacations come directly from my inheritance, to which I am fully ok with spending now. I would much rather have the memories of time with my family than their money when they are dead. I mean, I can always go back to robbing the elderly and turning tricks. Ok, I need to finish some work up and head to O'Hare!

Friday's Five things I'll be doing this week while you're at work:
87) Not working, not thinking about work, not talking about work, not talking to work people
88) Shooting, snorting, or smoking the local "coffee"
45) Sunbathing... nude... with a beautiful Dutchman at my side, touching my woman parts
3) Snorkeling... nude... and letting the little fishies touch my woman parts
59) Shopping... for whatever you can buy in Tobago, mostly to accentuate my woman parts

Cold and tired and yet, I'm still gorgeous

A few hours ago, I rolled over my forty hours for the week, but when you’re salaried, there’s really no such thing. I’ve been commuting to another facility all week, training the new engineer and then trying to do my own stuff at night. It’s almost as miserable as the time I go my face stuck to that tree in the park… almost... and don't ask. I’m tired and have about eighty-six more things to tie up before I leave for vacation (more on this tomorrow). To make matters worse, I have a raging headache right now. Thank goodness it’s lunchtime!! Oddly enough, a good friend of mine works in the building next to mine (and not the same company) and we are hitting up lunch together. I like going to lunch with him because his job is way shittier than mine (he’s an engineer also) and it makes me feel better when others around me are suffering, too. No, it doesn’t (I’m not always a bitch) but the empathy is nice. It doesn’t help that Chicago turned colder than a witch’s tit this week, either (I REALLY miss SoCal.) My friend just called – he is so bogged down with work, he can’t make lunch. Huh, I feel better already – ok, so maybe I am a bitch. Deal. Well shit, I have zilch for you today - I am riding on three hours sleep and my brain is mush. Have a good FBUDTFTAMWCT (fully bundled up due to freezing temps and miserable wind chills Thursday).

The Sport's Fan

I really like sports and athletics, in general, except for soccer; I hate soccer and it’s a sport for wussies. I also love going to professional sporting events (except for lame ass soccer games). Although I should point out that professional soccer players themselves are quite attractive. Getting back on course with my topic, it’s safe to say I’ve been to fifty or so professional sporting events and seeing as how I did not grow up in an area with any professional teams (or any amateur teams, for that matter), this is quite a feat. In that time, I’ve assessed the ilk of the sport’s fan, in a totally shallow and petty manner, of course. Would you expect anything better of me – seriously, people? I noted that as a general rule, some fans of a particular sport are simply better looking (overall) than fans of another. Without further adieu, here’s my list of the top four professional sports’s fans in Hot to Not order

1. Baseball: Top hotties. Typically, these guys are professionals and they are drawn to the sport because season includes something like four thousand games, making it easy for them to fit a few home games into their schedule. These dudes frequent the gym – at least 3 times per week.

2. Basketball: The basketball fan is usually a former basketball player but also includes the “student manager.” The student manager is the guy who was best friends with the basketball players, but cut from the team freshmen year. Basketball fans represent the broadest scope of fan with respect to the socio-economic scale. These blokes have a gym membership but only for playing pick-up games on the weekends.

3. Hockey: Hockey fans are former hockey players, period. (no pun intended) Primarily hailing from Northern states (duh), they are corn fed and Momma bred and commonly good guys but always in the Jekyll and Hyde way. You’ll often hear a hockey fan being described as such, “He’s awesome until he gets drunk, and then he’s a real prick.” The hockey gentleman has a gym membership but does not go.

4. Football: And finally, we reach a fan near and dear to my heart but unfortunately resting at the bottom of the hotness ladder. What can I say except for what you see is what you get? Football is a sport that embraces the couch potato and unfortunately, that’s what you find swimming in the football fan pool. Football fans have made and art of tailgating and why shouldn’t meat, cheese and beer be a top priority to any Sunday morning – who needs church, right? “Going to the gym” for this alpha male is “going to Jim’s” once a month to play poker.

Folks, this is just a generalization so don’t fricken play out a bunch of hate mail my way. In fact, I could consider myself an exception to the rule (and as a rule, totally exceptional); I just love football… but then again, I am no stranger to the ballpark, either. I was going to go on about my experiences dating fans like those mentioned above but holy crap this post is getting long. Maybe another time.

911 Dating

Again, very little time today but the second part to this is that Saturday night was not the first time I have ended up in the emergency room with a date nor was it even the second time, but the THIRD damn time. Seriously, WTF? Let's review...
November 27, 1999: Date cold-cocked at movie theater. 7 stitches
October 30, 2004: Date took a hard shot playing football. 5 x-rays, 2 CT scans.
November 12, 2005: Date caught knife with hand. 1 pint of blood, x-rays, 4 stitches.

Is it a curse, is it fate, is it love, is it God punishing me for having sex with my teachers in high school? It's an anomaly for sure. When it happens once - funny story to tell the grandkids, twice - a total fluke, but three times!?! One theory is that maybe I'm a bad date, which I clearly doubt, but I hardly think it's reason to send yourself to the hospital?! Or, as DJ suggested it's the opposite - a play on my emotions because all girls play into a guy who gets hurt... or has a puppy. But who are we kidding, hospital or not, if you feed me and start spinning a hot Rick Springfield record, there's a pretty good chance I'll make out with you anyway. (After all, I've taken a knee for less).

What I have learned:

• Always know a route from date venue to nearest hospital.
• There is no such thing as privacy - gowns really do show everything and a hanging 30 thread count sheet is neither "private" nor a "screen".
• A full morphine bag fits easily into a Dolce&Gabbana handbag and is a huge hit at parties.
• There is no such thing as privacy (again) - nurses will ask anything, in front of anyone, at any time.
• Upside: breakfast in bed. Downside: lunch and dinner in bed.
• Rex asked Mimi to marry him, unbeknownst to him that she had aborted his baby and a jealous Jan is going blackmail Mimi. (Who doesn't love Days of Our Lives?)
• After 25 years, you can find out you're missing a kidney.
• Despite what you might think, sex is not the furthest thing from your mind.... although an English breakfast is. (I know no one will get this)
• Your dark sense of humor is never appreciated.
• No matter what, your hospital roommate has a way more fucked up life than you.
• And yes, an injury when used properly can be a man's "golden ticket".

Why should a little blood spoil the fun?

I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll just get right to it. I met a guy at his apartment for dinner and we were having some wine when a knife slipped off the counter and he, in a moment of reactive non-genius, tried to catch the knife and well, technically speaking, he did catch the knife… unfortunately, the knife lodged in the middle of his hand and he had to pull it out. Normally, when I say a date “had to pull it out,” it’s followed by lots of sex, sucking, and some occasional midget porn, but not this time. Ok, so where was I – oh right, the blood squirting all over me. Again, normally when I say a date was “squirting all over me,” it’s after the part about me giving him the best fucking blowjob of his life but again, not this time. Although, I have worked around lots of injuries with varying degrees of blood, I had never actually been squirted with blood and as gross as it was, I kept my cool and by "cool", I mean pissing myself and throwing things across the room by way of telekinesis. He’d clearly hit an artery and 911 had to be called. Upon our return from the hospital, his apartment looked like a virgin whorehouse. Seeing as how the doctors had completely numbed his right hand (and yes, he’s right handed), I helped him undress, made him comfortable, and helped him “relax”. (his hand was hurt, not his dick)

Seeing as how he was rendered virtually useless and not just useless in the typical “men are useless” way, I spent the rest of the night packing his things (business trip), getting the kitchen back in order, and scrubbing blood from the walls – when I say blood squirted, I wasn’t kidding.

So that is where one story ends and the other begins… more tomorrow (no time today).

Tease

It's all candles and conversation until your date ends up in the emergency room. More on this later.

Go Vikings!
(I'll be at the Bears-49ers game)

Weekends are for Play

I've only been at work for about 90 minutes and already I'm irritated with the day. As I have sort-of written about before, Friday is usually my fluff day, whereby I complete the menial tasks I've compiles during the week. Well, today is going to be another actual hard work day like yesterday. What's worse, I know I'm not going to finish my project and am going to have to work this weekend. I hate working on the weekend.

Friday's Five things I like about winter:
74) snow (I don't even mind shoveling)
73) holidays (you can't go wrong with Jesus and cranberry sauce)
2) snowboarding (Illinois totally sucks in this respect)
57) shopping (to be fair, I like this every season)
32) vacations! (more on this next week)

Keep Tri-ing

Some people are born with natural ability and personal determination for excellence and some people (namely myself) are not. I asked my friend how his eldest sister (she's 34) was coming along on her triathlons. Here was his reply: "Alison's doing great - she won her age group at the Grand Columbian Iron Triathlon at Grand Coulee Dam in Washington. She placed 2nd in the Iron women and 10th overall; her combined time was 11 hours, 51 minutes, 50 seconds. She hasn't done a lot of triathlons and this was her first Ironman." Oh, Alison is also a fucking doctor and raises a kid on her own. The last respectable thing I did was not eat the last brownie in the break room.

Later Skaters

I don't have a lot of time today, this morning in particular, as I am busy with engineering things. I'll try to get something out this afternoon. For now - hoagies, porn, drugs, and titties... oh how we all love titties.

Dream of Me

Some people have the felicity of experiencing frequent vivid dreams... I am not one of those people. And though it's been said each of us dream at night, it's on rare occasion when I wake up with memories of these so-called "dreams". (I also don't believe in black holes, but that is for another day.) When people tell me about their night visions and the details relating thereto, I always get a little jealous and feel like I am really getting shafted. But this morning I awoke from a dream!! I had a strange feeling that portions of this dream were recurring and since I am an over-analytical engineer, I wanted to know what it all meant. Hello, dream dictionary; I'm ready to gain insight into my psyche. You would think I'd learn this kind of thing never has a good outcome for me (the same can be said for all-you-can eat buffets). My dream interpretation didn't lead me to meadows where my spirit is dancing free; no, not me - try insecurity, conflict, and troubling matters ahead (among others). On a positive spin however, a couple things pointed to inner peace and serenity. Well that's just fabulous, isn't it?! So basically I've learned I have all of these "issues", but that I'm totally ok with it. Wow, I suppose this takes my stubbornness to a whole new level.

Free Lunch

Today's schedule: meetings, meetings, meetings, LUNCH!!, more meetings. Oh, did I mention the lunch was free?!? Maybe it's because I am still relatively fresh out of college or maybe it's just a feeling of self-worth, but I'm not sure why I get so excited about a free lunch. Ok, it's safe to say that the fact that food is involved is pretty exciting regardless. In college, one or both of my parents would be in town and take me and my friends out for a meal, their treat of course. Hearing the news of my parents' offer was as if the heavens above had opened up, ready to shower us with steak, appetizers, and even dessert. But, that was in college... and we all know what college eating is like. Now, I am a professional... fine, maybe "professional" is a stretch; let's just say I have a job. I am paid fairly and I have no problem picking up a tab or two when I am out with friends. And yet... I still like sucking dick. Wait, what?!? And yet... I still cream when someone offers to take me out for a free meal. Sorry fellas, I don't cream over a free meal when we are going out on a date, that is an expectation... and yes, I know you have your own expectations. You know, I think I just solved my mystery - the excitement of a free lunch (at work in particular) comes from getting something unexpected. It's like winning a raffle or the lottery. (The author recognizes that a free lunch is probably NOTHING like winning the lottery, but go with it, you bugfaces.) It's breaking free from the binds of routine and in my case, getting something (read lunch) for nothing (read work productivity).

Speaking of work, I should get back to this meeting. I have no doubt they think I am typing some notes... or they just don't care. I also have no doubt I am the best (and most beautiful) engineer they've ever worked with... ego withstanding.

Profiling

As much as I love Buddy Lee and Mt Rushmore, the latter more than the former, it was time to change my profile picture. For those of you who don't know, it's an Oompa-Loompa from Tim Burton's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I love it, the picture that is, mostly because it reminds me of how I feel in my own red patented leather lingerie. But the movie isn't bad, either. (I'm sure it goes without saying that I was pretty high the first time I saw it.) Well, off to cut myself.

How did I get here?

Ok, what the fuck happened on Saturday night?!? The plan was to have a casual dinner with friends and hit up a movie in the 'burbs. So, how is it that I ended up at a club until 4am? I was having a glass of wine after dinner... when a couple text messages and a phone call later, I and my friends were being escorted up to the VIP lounge. Apparently, Danny was wondering if we could make it down and was willing to comp the VIP. There was only one minor problem to this scenario.... who the fuck is Danny?? I thought maybe it would be an "I'll know him when I see him" moment, but it was not so. (I may go deeper into this another time.) I know I was drunk last weekend, but how did I totally miss this guy diggin my supah-flava. (Not that I'm surprised because besides being adored for the ability to eat an entire bag of Doritos in one sitting, I am also quite charming.) Well, the night was a lot of fun and unlike last weekend, I maintained my dignity... well, with respect to drinking, anyway. :-) Maybe I'll head back sometime soon.... yeah, probably not.

Side Tracked

A good portion of this morning was spent cleaning my cubicle and talking with another engineer about nothing... nothing work related, anyway. I guess it's just a good indication that it's Friday. We got to discussing work patterns. I tend to be a Mon-Thurs worker and blow Friday off. Whereas, some people don't do shit all week and then try to bust something productive out on Friday.

--- Ok, so the IT lady just came into my cube, grabbed my wireless mouse, and started doing shit with my computer as I am sitting here, typing this shit up with the window open for her viewing pleasure. This whole act is so completely rude, it's beyond words. But even more beyond words is her. She's your stereotypical IT person - socially inept, questionable hygiene, generally unkempt, and don't forget greasy (with dirty fingernails). So, I guess it wasn't beyond words, but you get the idea. I could really give a shit less what she thought about the blog or that I am doing it a work; but by all means, get the fuck away from me! Seriously, I just wanted to race out of my cube and head straight for a safety shower to get rid of the ickyness I feel.

Fuck, I lost my train of thought on the whole work patterns things.

Anyway...
Friday's Five words I recently had to look up
65) ab ovo
91) provenance
77) valetudinarian
22) mirthful
52) horridest (ok, I know what horrid means but I did not believe horridest was a word.)

November 3, 2005

I got nothing today... try me tomorrow.

Last night's foot-in-mouth moment:
- Jesse (another engineer): Can I get a Blue Moon?
- Bartender: Sure, can I see your ID first?
- Jesse (removing ID from wallet): It's from Iowa so don't make fun of me.
- Bartender (stone-faced and glaring): Um, I wont; I'm from Iowa.

The Company's Future

I've been in engineering meetings the last couple days, in fact, I am in one right now just typing away at my blog and thinking of all the ways I could pleasure myself. Even with all of the sex thoughts, these things really know how to bring down my chi. Luckily, a half day is scheduled for today, which will no doubt run long by about three hours but whatever. There is one saving grace though; my division has a very young engineering group, eight of us range from 23 to around 30, so getting together is both productive and fun. So in reality, we are about as productive and the Cincinnati Reds' pitching staff, but we fake it pretty well to the managers, so it's all good. But with all of this youth and energy, long days turn in to long nights and after swearing off alcohol forever, I managed to easily take down a couple glasses of beer last night. I guess I am almost back to my fighting strength. Ok, I understand this post was pretty boring, but A) I'm extremely tired, B) I'm a little down the dumps lately, and C) I just don't give a shit.