Hatred. Maybe even complete Hateration. Hatingnessism, perhaps. Oh, did you want more than that? Picky, picky. It's always more, and then certain people come around here accusing me of being verbose. Which I just don't get, as I am so loathe to prattle on about myself. HAHA! Sorry, that was a little too much sarcasm, even for me. Ahem. Okay, regardless, so many of my fellow bloggers have been waxing philosophic about their deep love for Autumn that I do feel I must elaborate. Now, for normal people, Spring is the season that is hardest on the allergy-prone. And I have trouble with my...
(I have titled this post thusly for the pure, evil joy of knowing that at least one past boyfriend is reading my blog and probably jumped out of his skin when he read that.) (Sorry, hon.) (I'm laughing with you, honest!) Break-ups tend to be messy things. I mean, here's this person you've loved--for some period of time, at least--and now either you're telling to them to get lost or they're telling you they don't love you anymore. No fun, either way. And even in the case of a "mutual" split, there's nothing fun about parting ways with someone who used to make you feel pretty. Then, perhaps,...
Today's post is an entry in the third Blogging For Books contest being held over at The Zero Boss. I encourage you to visit Jay and check out all the entries. This month's theme is Adaptation. I held an instructional packet of information in one hand, and grabbed the strip of photos as they scrolled out of the booth's slot with my other. Panic was rising in the back of my throat and I stole a look at the photos while trying to act casual. Wow, and here I'd thought my student ID was the worst picture of me I'd ever seen. These were even less flattering. I looked glazed, exhausted, and...
One morning when we were quite young, my older brother and I were up before our parents, eating cereal and watching cartoons. "Wanna see a neat trick?" my brother asked me. Of course I did. My brother could make the sun rise, as far as I was concerned. He dug out some matches, struck one, and lit the corner of a paper napkin on fire. I oohed and aahed and then he blew on the napkin--to extinguish his tiny flame--and instead of going out, the flame doubled in size. He yelped and dropped the napkin on the carpet. I ran to our parents' room and screamed that the house was burning down. My...
So once upon a time, in a land kinda far away during a time that was... ummm... a while back, I had this boyfriend in college. We were in loooooooove. Cuz I was all grown up and knew everything, you see. I was 19! An adult! Worldly! And he was really different than all the other men I'd known in my vast experience (which wasn't very vast or worldly). And by different, of course I mean insane. But I was in loooooooove! We dated for a couple of years. It was Serious. I assumed we were going to marry. He was local to our university town, and so I got to know his parents pretty well, and became...
This entry is for the second Blogging For Books contest over at The Zero Boss. This month the topic is servitude, with the directive to write about the best or worst experience you've had working for someone else. I held my first non-babysitting job at the tender age of fourteen, and landed my first career job as a software engineer at twenty-three. During the intervening nine years I held a variety of positions. Two--vastly different--stints as a waitress. Tutor; teacher; camp counselor. Lab assistant. Library assistant. Assistant editor. Some of it was fun, some of it was awful. I was very...
Last night I took lots and lots of (prescribed) drugs and slept for about twelve hours and today I am... better. Not completely, but mostly. Hurray! Although this is the ex's weekend, our little social butterfly has two birthday parties to attend, today. I handle birthday party detail (no matter whose weekend it is). It makes sense, I guess. I'm the one who shops for and wraps the gifts, I'm the one who knows the kids and moms in question, and I'm the one who can get through these things without making an ass of myself. Usually. So,...
Yes, I am ancient. Geriatric. 32 going on 99. Would you like to hear about my wild evening? Of course you would. First of all, I was the youngest in our group of six. The friend who invited me along is just a few years older than me, then we had four ladies in their upper forties. One may have been over fifty. Not that this has anything to do with the price of tea in China or what it means to find oneself trapped in skanky karaoke hell, but it just seems like it needs to be pointed out. I'd offered to be the designated driver, because I'm off ibuprofen, NSAIDs, and alcohol until my surgery....
