Pardon Me

I've been noticing more and more that people lack manners. Forget the thank you card. That's obsolete. Holding the door for someone is few and far between. Saying "thank you" and "excuse me" are probably more common but not as much as is warranted. And you can just forget about eye contact. It's probably not gonna happen.

I have a friend (I use that term loosely) who completely lacks the ability to engage people in conversation. He doesn't ask the person he is talking to questions about themselves. Conversations with him either consist of him going on and on about himself or silence unless you ask prompter questions or resort to going on and on about yourself. Once when we were out to dinner with a couple (a husband and wife, the husband being one of his best friends), he sat directly across from the wife, next to me and kitty-corner from his best friend. I swear he hardly looked at her the entire meal while he went on and on and on. Instead, he looked over at his friend and spoke to him, occasionally looking sideways at me but frankly I didn't care if he looked at me because then he'd see how bored I was. I'd heard all his stories and wasn't particularly amused by them the first time I sat through them. Later, I mentioned to the wife how he never looked at her and she just shrugged saying that's how he is. How he is is kinda r-u-d-e.

This guy is also a cheapskate- the worst kind of cheapskate. He'll be sure to mention how much money he's been saving up but then never makes a gesture to pick up the tab. Or he'll invite me out to see a movie but by that he means, you buy your own ticket (even if I have covered his portion enough to warrant at least one friggen movie ticket). His friend, the husband I've mentioned, he's a generous guy and often will pick up the tab when we all go out. I'm always surprised and thankful and I offer to pay my way, the tip or to pick up the dessert/the movie/the drinks depending on what we are doing next. I feel it's proper etiquette to offer (and mean it). What do you think?

And what's your biggest peeve with manners?

Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About

You've probably heard the rumors. Let me just give you the low down here and now. Yes, it is indeed true that Karl, the man behind Secondhand Tryptophan, is indeed coming to visit me for a week in Seattle in March post- TequilaCon '07. Yes, it is indeed true that, for those of you who know me well and particularly those of you who have stayed with me for my general maximum of three days and two nights, know darn well that a week long visit is unheard of in my world. Every time I have mentioned that Karl is visiting and that he is staying a week I am confronted with shock and awe. "An entire week!? You!?" Good Lord people, can't a girl try to turn over a new leaf. It is, after all, a brand new year.

In an effort to prepare Karl for his visit, I prepared a list of warnings. I felt it is only fair and my duty as the Hostess With the Mostest (who is also, cute as a cupcake, I might add). I thought I'd share them with you. This will save a step if you ever decide to visit me.

Sizzle Warnings:

1. I tend to burn my eggs 3 out of 5 days of the week. I still eat them though.
2. I talk to my cats and ask their advice on things. I might do the same to you but don't feel left out if I don't ask your opinion on what I should wear to work that day.
3. Right now's about the time I should tell you I usually change my outfit a minimum of two times before I head out the door.
   
4. I wake up early and alert and I don't drink coffee. But I have to have tea or else I feel ... off.
5. The guy above me teaches/plays guitar. He's pretty good as musicians go and you eventually get used to hearing them practice.
6. I hate wearing a bra when I am home. And socks. I don't like wearing socks. Be forewarned I won't be wearing a bra or socks while in the apartment.
7. My apartment is the first one by the front door. You hear the buzzer and people coming and going. If you are nosy by nature, this could be a good thing for you.
8. I don't like having all the lights on when I am home. I light candles a lot and this does not mean that I am making romantic overtures (necessarily).
9. I do not have Tivo. I apologize in advance for this deficiency.
10. I usually go to bed by 11:00 and most of the time have to read before falling asleep.
11. My cats may or may not wake you up at 5:30am by either a) sitting on your legs/chest/back and purring loudly, b) licking your eyelid or c) pawing at the covers to make you lift it so they can cuddle underneath. I cannot control them. They control me. They will likely control you.
    
12. I really hate when toothpaste or hairs are left in the bathroom sink. Or when the bath mat is soaked because someone didn't towel off in the shower before stepping out.
13. Please don't leave your soggy towel on my bed, the floor, a chair or crumpled in a ball by the toilet.
    
14. I possibly snore but I hear it is endearing and/or cute.
15. I have a pull out couch that probably isn't that comfortable. It doesn't come with memory foam.
16. The toilet paper roll is not to be used in its entirety and then left for me to find while I am already sitting on the toilet. And when you replace it, please make sure it comes over the top, not from underneath. Let me repeat: Not. From. Underneath.
17. There are three shows I feel compelled to watch: American Idol (hey! I saw you cringe!), The Office, and Lost. As long as I don't have to watch talk shows, sports or movies/TV shows with Jennifer Love Hewitt or Carrot Top, we'll get along fine.
    
18. It's ok to be quiet and do your own thing just not to the point where I start to feel uncomfortable and I start wondering if you are having a horrible time and really wish you could leave already.
19. I really do enjoy doing the dishes so when I say it's ok, I'll wash the dishes, I mean it sincerely and am not being passive aggressive.
20. It's more than ok if you make yourself at home, help yourself to food, kick off your shoes but manners are very much welcomed.

Karl's reply was something like, "Sure, send me this after I booked the ticket." I am pretty sure he is still coming for the visit though.

Get Lifted

My male readers will likely not understand the importance of today's subject matter but I'm betting they won't mind since there is, after all, a picture of a woman in her bra to distract them.

I am here to say to the blogosphere that the right fitting bra WILL indeed change your life. I always thought I knew what wearing a great fitting bra felt like until I met this one. It's sort of like how married people always say, "I just knew" when they are talking about their husband/wife. I never understood that sentiment and to tell the truth, resented whomever uttered such sappy romanticism to me. . . until now. Sure, I thought it'd be a man who changed my mind but I'm betting my relationship with my new bra will last longer knowing my history with guys.

Scene: Sizzle arrives at work. Co-worker stops by her cubicle to say hello.

Co-worker (cheerfully): "Good morning! How are you?"

Sizzle (giddy): "I'm great! I am in love with my new bra."

Co-worker (eyeing Sizzle's ample rack): "My oh my, I can see why. The girls, they are so perky."

Sizzle (not thinking it at all weird that her co-worker is staring intently at her breasts, tries to refrain from whipping off her shirt to show the world her new love): "It's sooo comfortable. I think I might live in it. And buy one in every color."

Co-worker (decidedly): "That's it, I'm getting one for myself. I want to feel the love!"

Ladies, if you are walking around in the world in a bra that doesn't make you 100% happy, you need to break up with that bra and go shopping for a new one. If you have not been measured for a bra, do it! You'll be surprised. Too many women are walking around in ill fitting bras. Some of you are sagging. Some of you are constantly yanking down the back. Some of you are distractedly pushing the straps back up. Some of you, well, your cup runneth over. Trust me on this. Your clothes will fit better. You will stand taller. You will think you dropped 10 lbs. You too can fall in love with your bosom. Go on, get lifted!

I'm Delicate

It was around 10pm last night that I started to think about food. It wasn't that I was hungry. It was more about the fact that I wasn't allowed to have anything but water past 9pm. I thought about popcorn. Then about cocoa. Then about the yummy banana muffins I had made the day before. Being denied something sure can make it all the more tempting. I kept drinking water because it is all I am allowed. I have convinced myself it tastes like soap. All of this for the blood draw today for this health study my office is participating in. I have some trepedations about giving blood.

High school was the first and only time that I gave blood. I was trying to do the good samaritan kind of thing and it, uh, kinda backfired on me. I remember lying on the bed with my sleeve rolled up. Some of my fellow students were "helpers" and stood around chatting me up to keep my mind off the fact that blood was leaving my body and filling a plastic bag. (It didn't work.) After a minute or so, I tried to tell them I felt funny as they chatted on about the day's assembly and how Mona wears her skirt too short (she did, it's true) but they were oblivious (and really sucky at their job). Next thing I know, I'm being slapped awake by the scariest teacher in the entire school. She couldn't really help being scary. It was sad that her face was slack on one side from a stroke. (Or was it from a car accident? There was a rumor she lost her fiance in a horrible car accident that disfigured her. Doesn't that sound like a rumor? It can't be true.) Her scary face so close to mine was frightening enough to jolt me upright. They gave me a cookie and some juice and told me to visit the nurse. I think I ended up going home for the day. Turns out both my parents aren't able to give blood for similar reasons. I guess it isn't in our blood. (Heh.)

I've been promised that today's blood draw won't have the same effect and that they are only taking a little bit. All I know is, I damn well better get a cookie. I'm skipping breakfast afterall!

****************
Update at 4:30pm: No fainting. No cookie. No fair!

Love

Compulsive or Just Organized?

Email. Remember when there wasn't email? Wow. Now I feel old. Moving on...There was a time when I wasn't consumed with checking my computer for new messages. That would be the time I didn't have a computer. It doesn't help that I work at a desk on a computer for the greater part of the day. I've noticed that people seem to have their own method, if you will, for dealing with email. I'm curious to know if I am in the minority or the majority, so please put in your two cents. (My answers are in red.)

1. How often do you check email?

Constantly. I get excited if I am away from the computer for awhile because I hope that my in box will be full of new delights. I cry on the inside if I check my email and there are no messages.

2. What do you do with your emails after you have read them?

a) sort them into folders (so I can later maliciously delete them in a fit of rage, heh)

b) delete them

c) leave them in your in box for weeks (maybe months) (maybe years)

3. How long is too long to keep a message in your in box without replying? Is there a statue of limitations on such things?

I try to answer emails in a timely manner (re: the same day I receive them). Usually I am not the person who stops the emailing chain. I've had a couple of emails sitting in my in box for a month now. They are from people I like but don't talk to that often and as each week passes I wonder if I should answer or forget it because the reply would be quite lengthy. Then the guilt sets in. That's why I leave them in the in box so they can taunt me over and over and over again. I figure if you haven't responded to my email within 2 weeks, you hate me. You hate me, don't you? I knew it!

4. What is your stance on forwards?

a) I loathe them and harbor ill will towards those who send them.

b) I will read them but I rarely send them.

c) I only enjoy them if it's a quiz. I'm a sucker for quizzes.

P.S. I'm operating at 85% today which is a far cry better than the 28% I've been working with the past few days. Thanks for all your well wishes!

L Is For The Way You Look At Me

I spent 10 hours in bed on Tuesday. The only time I spoke was to call in sick to work and to order Indian food. I tried going into work yesterday but they sent me home. I guess leaving the house without make up really is bad. I felt like I was getting better last night but woke up again with a severely stiff neck and sore throat. Oddly enough, the soreness is on the outside, not inside the throat. My glands are swollen and occasionally I'll hack something up or blow my nose. Gross. I know. But I really do think there is validity to the whole emotional connection to illness. Monday night was a rough one, emotionally speaking, for me. Soon after my symptoms appeared. Coincidence? I think not.

Being home sick gives a girl too much time to think but I guess that's what I need to do. I know that sometimes I allude to things here but I can't always tell the whole story- not for my sake but for the sake of those I care about. I'm usually pretty direct but I don't like hurting people unnecessarily (though some might disagree with that). When I mentioned that my integrity was lodged in my throat it was because I was feeling guilty for having made a promise and not kept it. I pride myself on saying what I mean and doing what I say, on being as honest and authentic as I can be, on treating others with kindness and thoughtfulness. In this particular instance, I was putting off saying what I thought might be hurtful and instead, hurt them anyhow. It's really a long, complicated tale with a very un-fairytale-like ending that maybe someday I'll tell you about.

Here's what I have come to understand: You can put everything you have into loving someone and it can still fall apart. But just because it didn't end up the way you'd hoped doesn't make it all a lie. The heart's truth can change just like people do.

And sometimes, as much as it might break your heart, the only way to love someone is to let them go.

Maybe Next They Will Build An Ark?

Their Christmas Tree is still up.

So much for the excuse that they might be celebrating The Epiphany.

Thirty days people. Thirty. Days. It's time to let Christmas go.

Say Aaaahhhh

Do you believe that emotions can cause physical reactions in our bodies? I came home from work yesterday feeling a bit blue but not at all sick. Come 7pm the glands in my throat were swollen and I had no appetite. I stared at the TV to numb out but then finally just went to bed to sleep it off. I woke up at 1:44am, 3:12am, 4:18am, 6:03am and 6:54am. I laid there contemplating calling in sick. I have two meetings and a talk to give. I can't honestly imagine opening my mouth and speaking.

For a woman who normally is not at a loss for words, I find myself without words to properly explain the situation I have found myself in. Just know that sometimes emotional situations can occur and result in a physical manifestation. Like when words fail you, a lump appears in your throat and you discover that not talking is the only cure. I'm going back to bed to fitfully wonder if there is a way to remove my integrity from my throat. And to drink some tea because tea cures most things.

"I want to know what you're thinking...

There are some things you can't hide/I want to know what you're feeling/Tell me what's on your mind. . ."

Some new questions have come in. Like I said, you ask and I will answer honestly.

Neil inquires: If you were stuck on a desert island, would you rather have a Bible written in German, a laptop that only had Excel installed, or just one slice of pizza from the best pizzeria in Brooklyn?

This is going to tell A LOT about me but I promised honesty. I would definitely go for the pizza. I hate Excel and don't speak German. Besides, it's PIZZA. Hello!? The memory of its deliciousness can drive me insane for months to come. And we all know how I love to torture myself.

Neil also asks: Have you ever been tempted to call up an old boyfriend to see if the sparks are still there?

Neil, Neil, Neil- do you know me that little? Come on my friend. Let's be real. You and I (and the blogosphere) know that I HAVE done that and will likely do it again in the future.

Baja Babe wants to know: What kind of man do you WANT to date?

Funny you should ask because I have quite the list posted in my house to remind me! I wouldn't mind keeping the humor, sarcasm, self-deprecation, artistic talents and even a smidge of depression or melancholy or mild moodiness but the emotionally stunted communicators and passive aggressives can learn to love from some other lady. I'm done teaching! I'm looking for a fella who is thoughtful, generous for the sake of being generous, has integrity, manners, passion and character, who at the very least knows his issues and can discuss them without hiding or blaming or being a general dicktard, a man who can be there for me as my biggest fan, strongest ally and inspiration. Is that too much to ask?

Karl inquires: What fun and exciting things will we do when I'm in Seattle?

Do we actually have to leave the apartment? Heh. No, no. In all seriousness, there are scads of cool things to do here. We have so much to offer the out of town visitor and I'm not just referring to the Space Needle. I bet you're going to want to visit the SciFi Museum since you are such an adorable geek. There are ferry rides, Pike Place Market, all the cool parks and lakes and places to see. . .Are you sure a week is long enough?

Gorillabuns delves deep and makes me think by asking: Even if we have everything we thought we ever wanted... do you think people as a whole, are happy with the cards that are dealt to them? a.k.a. the silver lining?

I guess that questions supposes that I believe cards are dealt to people. Do we make our lives or do our lives make us? Interesting question. I think that perspective plays a large part in whether a person is happy or not. I believe the grass always seems greener on the other side but it's actually just the vantage point that makes it appear so. It's really the same lawn! So the best we can do is to live our best lives from moment to moment and try to be as authentic in our pursuit of happiness as we can without settling for status quo. We all deserve to live our dream. (Does that even answer your question?)

One For the Books

Mike and I traveled on the periphery of each other's lives until one night when he joined some friends and attended a party at my house. It was then, while we sat outside by the pool on a bench as the others were inside, that I really saw him. Of course, it was mostly because I rescued him from a spider crawling near his head while he tried unsuccessfully not to freak out but nonetheless, a friendship was born. A while later we would fall in love.

It's rare in this life to find a person who truly loves you unconditionally that isn't related to you by blood. Mike is the person who taught me by example about selflessness and true love. He shows me time and again with his integrity that good men do exist. He'll also, without question, slash the tires of anyone who wrongs me- so don't get on my bad side. Heh. He is, to this day, one of two men I've dated for over a year which is significant given my 6 month max out on relationships. And he is also one of my very best friends.

When I think about Mike now there are no lingering regrets for the love affair we once had. I can remember vividly the time he blared Frank Sinatra from his car radio while parked along West Cliff Drive, the ocean tide playing back up to this moonlight serenade, as we danced in the light of the headlights in celebration my birthday. He was a wonderful boyfriend. People often raise an eyebrow when they hear we used to date and are now such good friends- even weirder are the looks when we were housemates for two years. . . "You mean, it isn't weird with you guys?" they ask suspiciously. Um, no. If you saw us together you'd get it. It's actually quite fantastic this friendship we have created. And now? I get to see him happy and in love with a truly perfect woman for him. The fact that I had a little hand in introducing them makes it all the more special for me.

He's a good egg- humble and generous, compassionate and thoughtful (when he remembers- he has a horrible memory), sarcastic and witty, sensitive and romantic, loyal and independent, intelligent and a very talented writer. You can see for yourself here. You can go one farther and vote. It is, afterall, his birthday today. Let's show my good friend some love, shall we?

Happy Birthday Mikey! I love you.
XO,
Sizz

Leave Your List At The Door

I've been feeling edgy lately. At work, I have trouble focusing. It's like I am back in college when I had a big paper due. Instead of tackling the paper straight on, I would accomplish all sorts of other, not-as-important tasks. My closet would be organized. My toilet scrubbed. My box of photos chronologically put in order. I'd make my bed. Do a load of laundry. Make tea and bake banana bread from scratch. And then. . . with 12 or 8 or 5 hours to spare, I'd get down to the real business at hand.

I do this with my life, not just with projects that have due dates. But I wonder, when you have a self-imposed "due date" does it still count? Lately, I've been trying to not be SO structured. Lists are nice. Accomplishing everything on my list is a secret joyous feeling. . . but why? What do all those tasks crossed off mean to me? That I have purpose? That I am not wasting my time?

I'm horribly bad at relaxing. Like even if I am home on a Friday night I will still multitask. This bothers me immensely because my inability to relax keeps me too over-connected, too "on," too pent up, too inhibited. And multitasking just isn't what it used to be. It actually keeps me from enjoying one thing at a time. It makes me feel scattered and discombobulated. What I am saying is: I want to cut loose of it and be free.

Today there is no list. There are phone dates with Santa Cruz friends. There is lunching at one of my favorite restaurants and painting pottery with my BFF. There will be fun. And by golly I WILL feel relaxed! (Does declaring that make me less of a relaxing type person? Ooops. I thought it might. Baby steps.)

WTF Friday

It's been a while since we had a WTF Friday here in Sizzleland. I've included a flattering picture of Darwin from American Idol because if anyone is the epitome of WTF, she is. I seriously didn't need reminding that going out of the house without a bra on when your cup runneth over is NOT OK. E-V-E-R. Ahem!

Here's one I have been pondering though: Every night as I walk home from my car to my apartment building, I pass a house that is beautifully decorated. I tend to take an extra look at the inside of houses if I can peer in. I know it's kind of Peeping Tom of me but I love to see how people choose to decorate. It can both fascinate and horrify me. This house is tastefully done thankfully- painted in soothing colors with well placed furniture. . .except THEY STILL HAVE THEIR CHRISTMAS TREE UP.

This bothers me immensely.

What day is it? Oh right, it's JANUARY 19th, 2007. Twenty-five entire days since Christmas came and went. I feel this is far too long to keep your tree up. Being lazy is one thing but come on! I'm going to have to avert my eyes from now on because: The Horror! WTF people? WTF?!

Yesterday I was emailing with my friend and she asked me, "What do I do?!?" And I said, "I can't tell you what to do! Though, how great would it be if everyone just let me organize their ENTIRE life?! My dream come true." Wouldn't it be cool to be a professional organizer plus life coach all in one? My heart just skipped a beat at the thought. Ohhh! I'd love it so! I'm already taking on a new profession as of late. Hillz calls me "Dr. Jones" and I have to say, I quite like how that sounds. I'm a surgeon for emotional cancers. Do you have someone in your life that is metaphorically a malignant tumor on your soul/heart/psyche? Call Dr. Jones! I'll slice him/her right out and you will be on your way to recovery. Luckily, minimal schooling is required for such licensing. It's more intuitive and street smart savvy with a big ol' dose of tough love, if you will.

For those who are wondering where this Jones business comes from, it is indeed my last name. That's all your getting out of me! Anonymity is key. As is discretion. Let's proceed as if nothing has changed in Sizzleland, shall we?

Your Questions Get Answered

Thanks for all your inquiries! Wow, these questions ran the gamut. It was interesting and thought provoking- thanks. It's not too late to submit your questions if you feel so inclined. Just remember (as this post goes on and on) you asked! Here we go...

Java Jabber wants to know: Are you a crafter? What hobbies do you do?
I am crafty, it's true. Lately I've been back into beading jewelry, making pins out of felt (ask Alissa, I just sent her a bird and a cupcake), knitting (scarves mostly but I want to learn how to make hats), some minimal charcoal drawing, the occasional home improvement (painted my kitchen) and am in the process of learning to sew so I can revolutionize the fashion world for chubbettes.

Asp strikes a sensitive spot by asking: Have you seriously thought about going to see a therapist with all of your ongoing problems with your self esteem issues and your needing a man to complete your life?
I have been to therapy off and on for many years but since moving to Seattle, have not located a therapist. It's true, I struggle with loving myself and with my relationships with men. It's funny though, had I written a blog ten years ago, you'd likely think me certifiable. I've come incredibly far and am quite proud of the internal work I have done on myself. This blog is an outlet for my life but it is no way all encompassing of my life. Take what you read with a grain of salt, please and don't suppose you know me so well. Anyone who has ever met me in real life would never believe I feel I need a man in my life to complete it. I actually laughed reading that since it is so far from my own reality. Self-esteem issues I have in spades though.

Catheroo ponders: What was the last CD you bought/mp3 you downloaded?
The last cd I purchased was The Detroit Cobras, "Baby" from iTunes. The last mp3 I downloaded was Ben Folds, "Evaporated."

Claire asks: What inspires you? What do you draw strength/courage from? What sort of women's self defense did you teach and how did you get into that?
I taught a form of women's self-defense that borrowed from different kinds of martial arts to make it simpler for women to learn basic, effective physical and verbal techniques to ward off an attacker. I studied for a year and then taught for some 8 years. The most empowering part of teaching was seeing women who never had yelled in their life or maybe even stood up for themselves, yell "NO!" The look on their faces was incredibly rewarding. They finally believed in their own power! It was awesome. It certainly inspired me at the time. I draw inspiration from the people in my life- particularly the volunteers I work with because so many of them generously give of their time and talents to the foster kids. Seeing people want to give back, to do good in the world, always inspires me. My friends and family are definitely my source of courage and strength.

Melissa wonders: How did your family pick Seattle as it's new home?
Hmm, good question- one I am not particularly sure of the answer. Since first visiting Seattle some 8 years ago, I've loved this city. It's been on the top of my list of where to move since then and it took me that long (and a nephew) to get myself here. My sis and her hubby visited Seattle on their honeymoon and fell in love with this magnificent place. Since they lived here and were the ones having a kid, my mom and I said, "What the hell! Let's go!" And so here I am and soon to follow comes my mom. We're tight like that.

Bone gets sappy on me and asks: What is your happiest memory?
Gosh, I really have so many. Recently, I'd have to say some of my happiest memories are: watching my nephew Finn be born, feeling all the love from my Santa Cruz friends when I moved, laughing until I cried with Hillz and Tomato (separately but equally as enjoyable), laying on the beach in Tulum, Mexico last Christmas and whenever the last time I hit a pinata (I love pinatas!). (P.S. Bone? Love the sap factor. Sincerely.)

Snackie wants to know: Which blogger would you like to switch lives with for one day?
I've never thought about that. Even on my worst days, I never want to get out of my life. But, for kicks, I'd say (out of the bloggers I read which is limited) I'd most want to switch with Sandra because I want to see what it's like to live in the Big Apple. I've never been there but have always wanted to visit. Plus, you know, she's all kinds of fabulous.

G-man goes for the hard hitting question: Do you believe in life after death?
The simplest answer to that very deep question is: Yes.

Tomato, of course, asks me some huge question: What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?
Leave it to you to ask this. Damn you! Right now the answer I feel is most true is to go into business for myself. I'd love to start Chubby Girl Revolution and change the way women feel about their bodies.

Leave it to Dave2 to ask me a wardrobe question: What are you planning on wearing to TequilaCon?
Well Dave, it's funny you should ask. I was JUST eyeing this fabulous little red dress. But if you're already planning on wearing a red dress, I'll go for something different. But definitely something that shows cleavage. Is that ok?

Sandra, clearly on drugs, asks: How does it feel, being so fabulous? :)
Oh shucks, I really wouldn't know.

Diane demonstrates that she and I will have plenty to discuss over sushi on Saturday by asking: You alluded to a college documentary in an e-mail to me--I want to hear more about this, what you studied in school, and why. Also, what was your toughest subject in school?
I was a Women's Studies/Literature major. Why? Because I love writing and books and being a kickass chick. Of course there is more to it but that's the quick answer. By far, my toughest subject in school was Statistics. Why? Because I detest math. I took that damn class twice and got incompletes both times (maybe all those times I skipped class to drink coffee and smoke cloves wasn't so smart?). I finally had to take Oceanography for my "quantitative" credits in college. At least then I could study dolphins and stuff.

JustRun, who makes delicious soup, wants to know: If you had to pick one food to live on for the rest of your life, what would it be?
I'm gonna have to go for sushi.

Alissa, my internet soul sister, needs to know: Where you got your fabulous snow boots? I adore them and have snow, therefore could use some cute snow boots.
Technically they are for rain because they aren't as warm as they need to be for snow but they are superduper cute, you're right. You'll have to ask my Mom. She gave them to me for Christmas. Mom?

Bullyse doesn't beat around the bush: I would like to know: If you had to typify or explain, what kind of guy is it that you find yourself attracted to?
Good Lord woman! This is a very charged question for me right now. :) Ok, typifying, I'd have to say that I tend to date men who are humorous, self-deprecating, sarcastic, artistic (writers, musicians, painters), and who struggle with depression. Bonus points for passive aggressives and emotionally stunted communicators. Heh.

Opening Myself Up

Oftentimes, I get asked a question in my comments that probably other people were wondering themselves. Sometimes I answer the question directly when I have the person's email or I might go back in and leave a response in the comment section. It got me thinking. . .Maybe you have a question you've wanted to ask me but haven't. Maybe you've been wondering something about me, my life, my quirks and you'd like to ask me. Do you need follow up on a former post? What's your burning question?

Well go ahead, ask.

As per my usual, I will do my best to be as open and honest as possible. Answers will follow in a subsequent, tell-all post.

The Right Container

"The pain of life is pure salt; no more, no less. The amount of pain in life remains the same, exactly the same. But the amount of bitterness we taste depends on the container we put the pain in. So when you are in pain, the only thing you can do is to enlarge your sense of things... Stop being a glass. Become a lake."

Formerly Me

Ten years ago, I looked like this (me, pictured in the middle). That seems like a lifetime ago.

It's the me after an Oprah-inspired moment and a loss of 60 lbs.
It's the me in a happy relationship with a great guy.
It's the me after a bad dye job and a need to strip all the color from my hair (hence, blonde).
It's the me who could shop in any store and have too many options of what to buy.
It's the me who was told I resembled Sharon Stone.
It's the me who was finishing college.
It's the me who was working on her Senior project- a documentary entitled, "The Weight that Women Carry."
It's the me who didn't have a clue what to do with male attention (now that I was thin).
It's the me who was slightly obsessive about food and exercise.
It's the me who felt full of possibility.

Finnsitting

See this baby? So cute and blueberry stained? This is not the same boy I babysat last night. After 30 minutes of non-interrupted screaming, I caved and texted.

"He hates me. Been screaming since you left. Any tips?"

I didn't want to bother them on their date but I was at my wit's end. I'd been grumpy and depressed for most of the week. I thought babysitting would cheer me, not make me want to cut my own uterus out.

After numerous calls to both mom and pop, my sister decided to return home. I felt incredibly bad that I couldn't soothe Finn. This babysitting gig was supposed to be a breeze. He was over-tired and should have just fallen straight to sleep but nooooo. Babies and their developing minds. Sheesh! He's in the teething phase too so he's been moodier. Since we'd all been battling colds for the past couple weeks I hadn't spent any quality time with him. Maybe he forgot who I am? Maybe he doesn't like me?

At one point, as I tried to desperately heat up a bottle under the tap while unsuccessfully soothing him I said, "Look Finnster, this just isn't working out. How about you give me a ring when you can talk and walk?" Of course, I was not entirely serious. Though later when Dokey and Double B returned home with their food all boxed up, I remarked to them "I've broken up with men who treated me better."

Have I mentioned how I am not having children? Yeah. Not gonna happen.

Bodies Needs Fuel

I should have known yesterday was going to be a bust. Whenever I don't start off my day with a proper breakfast, it's all downhill from there.

7:55am: Text Rachel to see if we have to go into work.

8:05am: Decide Rachel is driving my pansy ass to work.

8:15am: Running around getting ready while eating an english muffin and blogging.

8:35am: Delicately pick my way across snow and ice to Rachel's car.

8:45am: Hardly anyone is out on the roads. The main road we take to work is blocked because it's being de-iced.

8:50am: While taking alternative route, we are held up by a woman who clearly doesn't know what to do when her car meets a patch of ice on an incline. Rachel calls her a pussy. I take it one step further and call her an ice pussy. I am the Queen of the Ice Pussies. Imagine the crown for that!

9:00am: Arrive at work with a car covered in snow still. Discover the coffee shop is closed. This is not good as I have not brought my lunch nor have I brought any tea. I need my tea.

10:30am: A group of four delegates embark on a Starbuck's run for the office.

11:30am: Did that guy make my latte DEcaf?! It sure doesn't feel like it.

12:05pm: Turning off my iPod I discover a silent office. Where did everyone go? I thought we were ordering pizza? Bastards! They all went to some meeting so they could score free lunches and didn't tell me. Hmphf! Eat banana and pout.

1:15pm: Crabby. No protein. Fading. Offered one of the lunches but told they cost $10. I am not wasting $10 on a salad. Martyrdom, here I come.

2:30pm: Continue to keep iPod on because no one should come near the cage that is my cubicle. Find some stale pretzels and eat a couple. Wash it down with delicious water.

3:10pm: Seriously, can't we go home yet? My stomach is eating itself.

3:45pm: Not. Doing. Well. Can't think straight. Would throw something if I had the energy. Why does hunger make me so easily frustrated?

4:00pm: Rachel swings by my cubicle, takes one look at me and says, "Let's get you home." Ok, she said more than that but that's the part that matters. Clearly, I don't look well. I think I could actually start crying hungry, frustrated tears.

4:20pm: Arrive home. Order Indian food. Try not to pass out.

5:05pm: Indian food arrives. It's the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. Remain comatose on couch for remainder of night.

7:30am: Watch news and see it's icy everywhere. Start to panic about driving to work. Know I must be brave and go. Being an Ice Pussy isn't all it's cracked up to be. Being an Ice Pussy Control Freak is really no fun at all, I'll have you know. At least I will have time for a proper breakfast.

Again With The Snow

For a California girl, this snow business is quite disconcerting. Don't get me wrong- I love the snow. It's just that it keeps snowing just enough to stick on the ground but not enough to keep me from going into work. Like my friend Rachel so astutely said, "Snow is like a penis- if there isn't 6 inches there's no point."

All day yesterday I kept saying, "Where is the snow!?" And then, come 4:15pm- whamo! There were flurries of snow whirling about my office window. Most of us bolted out of the office to try to beat the traffic. I actually smiled my whole way home. Snow has that effect on me.

Unfortunately, my neck of the woods didn't get enough snow to warrant a snow day so I am carpooling in with Rachel. I don't want to drive in it. It's freezing and icy out there! I'll let the seasoned Washingtonian do the dangerous driving. I bet half the office won't be in but I'll be there. Great! Ahem.