My Confession
Did you all know what next Thursday the 21st is? It's the first birthday of Scarlett's Haven! Wow! Almost a whole year. I can hardly belive it. You've been with me through my ups and downs. My struggles to become pregnant. My unemployment and job search, trials and tribulations and all the crap in between. Some readers have come and gone, but to those of you who have stuck with me, I give you my thanks and my love.
And to those of you who are fairly new to my Haven, welcome. Thanks for coming by and thinking it was worth another visit. I hope I can improve year by year. Hang around, it just might get interesting!
Now then.
Well everyone, it's that time of the week again. Thanks for visiting and giving me a few questions.
Catrina asked this week a medical question since she's a nurse and all (oh, and loves me):
Have YOU had your blood sugar checked?
To answer Cat and those of you that give a rats’s ass, yup, sure have! Every so often I check it. So far, so good. (now where-oh-where is some wood for me to knock on?) *tap,tap,tap* Yes, thankfully, so far my blood pressure is usually pretty much near if not perfect, good cholesterol levels, and blood sugar within normal range. Actually, I’m more hypoglycemic & anemic than anything.
Got wood? (Careful there wise-ass men readers!)
Now then, on to my next quesiton....
Carrie Jo, I believe, misses Yahoo! IM-ing with me, (I miss you too babycakes! MWAH!!) because she asked me:
Has anyone ever caught you doing something embarrassing? What was it? (heehee I'm evil, I know.)
Yeah Carrie Jo, you're evil, but I love you for it! Well, I have to say my most embarrassing moment(s) had to be when Monster walked in on Z and I making love. MORE THAN ONCE. (And what I still want to know to this day is….. “Why in the HELL did I have to be on TOP SEVERAL OF THE TIMES SHE WALKED IN?”. The ‘me being on top’ part is what stuck in my memory.) Also, she wouldn’t knock, she would just walk in and STARE at us in all our glory for the longest time before she would get the hell out and there we were, HORRIFIED. No knocking, or anything, just walks in and....... S.T.A.R.E.S.- A.T. - USSSSS.
Sicko freak. Traumatizing as hell too.
Before any of you say anything, yes, I’ve heard of locks, but we locked it, (or so we thought) but she kept screwing with the locks. I know for a fact, because we kept replacing them. And yes, all those caps were necessary!!
Cheryl b, my buddy, my pal asked me a sort of typical, yet somehow tame (and you long time readers will know what I mean) question this week:
Who is your favorite super hero and why? Also, are there any that you think are hot?
My favorite SUPERHERO has to be this guy! Heee hee!! But to answer your question properly, My favorite male superhero is Superman and my favorite female is Wonder Woman.
Superman, I think, because he was the underdog orphan, you know? He had to learn to deal with his superpowers but was still just an average Joe, or Clark to be more precise. He always took time to help people in need. Also? I always wished I could fly with him like that witch Lois Lane. Sigh.
Now Wonder Woman. I always wanted her golden lasso (still do), invisible airplane and those bulletproof bracelets. She was kick ass, but still very feminine. Gorgeous too. She always saved the world from bad guys, because she was all those things I listed before, and intelligent.
Superman. answers your second one too. He was damn hot! (oh yeah, double t)
Well, that's all the answers to the questions I had this week. Blogger must have pissed off Ollie and Wenchie this week. Blogger bastards.
4/14/2005
4/10/2005
A Thought Or Three
It's sometimes a little bit scary, the avenues and paths my mind will wander along. But first. To begin with, a little reminder to get your questions in for this week's Inquisition. You have until 12 Noon, Tuesday, Pacific Time to get your question in for me to answer. All of you continue to amaze me with your questions.
Now then. I'm curious what you all are going to think of this. I found out that Z's specialist for his Diabetes ALSO specializes in treatment of PCOS. Hmmmmmm.Coincidence? I wonder. Turns out that Z spent as much time (giving wrong info about my past treatment history apparently. sigh.) talking about my PCOS as about his diabetes. If only he had given accurate information the doctor would have been informed. Like, for example, he neglected to mention that I had been taking glucophage AND Clomid when I got pregnant a few years ago with the baby I miscarried. He kind of left the bit about the Clomid out. Then, he couldn't remember the name of the meds I was taking for MY IVF trials after that first failed one. Uh huh. Shall I continue?
I will say one thing. I kinda love this doctor of his. Know why? Cause he asked Z last week "So, where's the boss?" (ie: me.) Love. That. Haaaaaaaaaaaahaaahaaahahahhahahahaha. He also complimented me and said that I made his life very easy since I apparently have such excellent medical knowledge and background.
Thanks doc. Right back atcha babe!
How about a casual observation from my desk here at work. It's a hoot, believe me.
Picture this: I'm sitting at my desk in my office talking to my assistant and another secretary when I notice out of the corner of my eye out on the triangular ledge outside my window a couple of pigeons. I casually remark "Oh look, he's showing off. I bet she's in heat". Mere seconds later, they start mating right there in front of us. Once. Twice. Thrice. and four times. I find I have only one thing to say to this really, once I stopped laughing.........
Lucky bitch.
It's sometimes a little bit scary, the avenues and paths my mind will wander along. But first. To begin with, a little reminder to get your questions in for this week's Inquisition. You have until 12 Noon, Tuesday, Pacific Time to get your question in for me to answer. All of you continue to amaze me with your questions.
Now then. I'm curious what you all are going to think of this. I found out that Z's specialist for his Diabetes ALSO specializes in treatment of PCOS. Hmmmmmm.Coincidence? I wonder. Turns out that Z spent as much time (giving wrong info about my past treatment history apparently. sigh.) talking about my PCOS as about his diabetes. If only he had given accurate information the doctor would have been informed. Like, for example, he neglected to mention that I had been taking glucophage AND Clomid when I got pregnant a few years ago with the baby I miscarried. He kind of left the bit about the Clomid out. Then, he couldn't remember the name of the meds I was taking for MY IVF trials after that first failed one. Uh huh. Shall I continue?
I will say one thing. I kinda love this doctor of his. Know why? Cause he asked Z last week "So, where's the boss?" (ie: me.) Love. That. Haaaaaaaaaaaahaaahaaahahahhahahahaha. He also complimented me and said that I made his life very easy since I apparently have such excellent medical knowledge and background.
Thanks doc. Right back atcha babe!
How about a casual observation from my desk here at work. It's a hoot, believe me.
Picture this: I'm sitting at my desk in my office talking to my assistant and another secretary when I notice out of the corner of my eye out on the triangular ledge outside my window a couple of pigeons. I casually remark "Oh look, he's showing off. I bet she's in heat". Mere seconds later, they start mating right there in front of us. Once. Twice. Thrice. and four times. I find I have only one thing to say to this really, once I stopped laughing.........
Lucky bitch.
4/07/2005
Clap On!
Reason Number 28 not to get dressed in a dark room early in the morning:
You look down at your lap at a red light about 3 blocks from work and realize that you didn't put on the black slacks with with your cream snakesin print blouse and matching open toed heels you thought you did, but Navy instead. Not a big deal you say?
It is when look over at the BLACK-AS-SIN BLAZER you brought with you lying on the passenger seat.
Say it with me now............."DOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Lets blame it on the fact that I left work at 9pm last night, hmmm? Will y'all let me?
Please tell me some of you have had such Homer moments?
Reason Number 28 not to get dressed in a dark room early in the morning:
You look down at your lap at a red light about 3 blocks from work and realize that you didn't put on the black slacks with with your cream snakesin print blouse and matching open toed heels you thought you did, but Navy instead. Not a big deal you say?
It is when look over at the BLACK-AS-SIN BLAZER you brought with you lying on the passenger seat.
Say it with me now............."DOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"
Lets blame it on the fact that I left work at 9pm last night, hmmm? Will y'all let me?
Please tell me some of you have had such Homer moments?
4/04/2005
*Whimper*
Why is it that after two days of physio (and endless days of painkillers- love. them.)for my left shoulder that I have somehow managed to f*ck up the tendons that attach my arm to my body, do I find that almost EVERYONE that I come into contact with today feels the need to give me a good whack on the arm? (yeah, guess which one!?)
I'm serious. At least 10 people, pretty much ALL coworkers mind you, have smacked me or poked me on my left arm today. Add to that how completely BRAINLESS I apparently am because what did I do while showing my new Assistant things at work today? I reached into my filing cabinet, high (not supposed to do) for a ring binder file that is full to exploding and lifted it down one handed (Doh. guess which one?). Of course, I instanteneously remembered not to do it the millisecond after the pain shot through me. Although in all fairness to myself, I'd already been poked and smacked so much, it was pretty much just the icing on the cake.
OW-eee. (read: much cusssing)
Any suggestions on how to explain the quick 10 leaps backward on the improvement I had made to my physiotherapy doc without sounding like a complete brainless twit?
Why is it that after two days of physio (and endless days of painkillers- love. them.)for my left shoulder that I have somehow managed to f*ck up the tendons that attach my arm to my body, do I find that almost EVERYONE that I come into contact with today feels the need to give me a good whack on the arm? (yeah, guess which one!?)
I'm serious. At least 10 people, pretty much ALL coworkers mind you, have smacked me or poked me on my left arm today. Add to that how completely BRAINLESS I apparently am because what did I do while showing my new Assistant things at work today? I reached into my filing cabinet, high (not supposed to do) for a ring binder file that is full to exploding and lifted it down one handed (Doh. guess which one?). Of course, I instanteneously remembered not to do it the millisecond after the pain shot through me. Although in all fairness to myself, I'd already been poked and smacked so much, it was pretty much just the icing on the cake.
OW-eee. (read: much cusssing)
Any suggestions on how to explain the quick 10 leaps backward on the improvement I had made to my physiotherapy doc without sounding like a complete brainless twit?
4/03/2005
The Confession
Better late than never, you know.
As promised, the answers to your questions. Man, y'all didn't hold back, now didja? Nuh-uh.
I'll answer in the order that I recieved the questions this week, if you don't mind.
Cheryl b naturally asked:
how often do you and Z have sex, and how often would you like to?
Sex? What’s that? Heh. Well, if I remember correctly, it is –fortunately for me- much like riding a bike, you never forget.
I honestly don’t remember the last time, which means waaaaaaaaaaay too long. Maybe near Valentine’s Day? Perhaps a little before. (Shall I wait for all of you to pick yourselves up off the floor before I continue?) I’ll probably have to check my calendar to give you a precise date. Yes, I’m serious.
He has gone and gotten pissy with me (and moody) regarding this once I started realizing (ok, and after I confronted him about the fact that…) he was initiating (or giving in to my requests/hints/blatant invitations/nagging) lovemaking only around my ‘fertile’ days of the month, where, if, by some MIRACLE OF GOD, I ovulated, I would end up pregnant. Other than that, nada. Nothing. This bullshit continues. Before any of you say anything, I've tried all the suggestions you could come up with and then some, ok? I'm a creative woman you know?
Anyway, for the longest time, I thought it was my imagination, but then? I started quietly marking down on my calendar and sure enough, it was on or around day 13-15 of my cycle and NOT any other time. So, he was in denial when I mentioned it, and I showed him, and he got quiet, and ever since? Hardly ever, even during potential ovulation time. Which brings us to the second part of Cheryl’s question….
How often would I like to do it? At least 3-4 days a week. (Notice I didn’t say times but days? Yeah, a couple of times a day is nice. Ahhhh, the good ole days.) But if it was more often, I wouldn’t complain, ya know? Hell at this point? I'd be happy with some heavy petting.
What? Believe it or not, I have a pretty –ahem!-high sex drive, although perhaps you wouldn’t know it to see how long I go in between. Bottom line is, I DO have some pride, and I’ll be god dammed if I’m going to beg for it. I honestly never, ever thought we would reach this point, not us, we used to have a great physical relationship. But that was then and this is now.
Well shit, now I’m depressed. Sexually frustrated and depressed. Hell, that is one bad combo.
Wenchie nailed me with:
Have you ever been arrested? If not, what's the closest you've ever come?
Wenchie, woman! You have the best blog name! I LOVE IT!!! Now, for the answer to your question.
Well, there was a little misunderstanding when I was 17 and boy did I learn my lesson!
It was all because of my stupidity & forgetfulness more than anything, really. I was working in retail, and mid-morning I tried on a belt (it was really nice), but then it got SUPER busy and I forgot I was wearing the damn thing. An hour or so later, it’s break time and –kapow- the store security pounced on me when I went to get a smoothie. I’m sure you can guess the rest.
Damn, it’s not like I’m Winona Ryder or anything sneaking around with scissors in a dressing room or something!
Now to a considerably more tame question from Catrina……
Now that you have your job, when can you take vacation? Hint Hint?
Well pussycat, funny you should ask me that! I’ve been thinking about when I should take it, when the best time will be lately. Yes, now I’m working, so I’m in the process of strategizing and planning for my trip.
My vacation is back on, exactly when, I can’t say yet, but trust me, you will know, (Since I’m planning on crashing at your place for a couple of days! Hint! Hint! Hee hee (Don’t y’all love the way I invited myself? Shut it. I’ve known Cat for – gulp – AGES.
In fact, Ollie might just get to see me too (you know, if she wants to!) espceically if my mom has relocated back home to S.C. like she is planning by then.
Oh and Rose? If you’re reading this? Don’t feel left out, I’m going to hit you up too, girlfriend!!!! (Yeah, I’m making the rounds of LA, aren’t I?!)
I'm hitting both coasts in the States and a point or two in between as of today. If you're anywhere near where I might be, let me know, I'd love to meet ya!
Thank you all for your questions. Adieu my darlings.
Better late than never, you know.
As promised, the answers to your questions. Man, y'all didn't hold back, now didja? Nuh-uh.
I'll answer in the order that I recieved the questions this week, if you don't mind.
Cheryl b naturally asked:
how often do you and Z have sex, and how often would you like to?
Sex? What’s that? Heh. Well, if I remember correctly, it is –fortunately for me- much like riding a bike, you never forget.
I honestly don’t remember the last time, which means waaaaaaaaaaay too long. Maybe near Valentine’s Day? Perhaps a little before. (Shall I wait for all of you to pick yourselves up off the floor before I continue?) I’ll probably have to check my calendar to give you a precise date. Yes, I’m serious.
He has gone and gotten pissy with me (and moody) regarding this once I started realizing (ok, and after I confronted him about the fact that…) he was initiating (or giving in to my requests/hints/blatant invitations/nagging) lovemaking only around my ‘fertile’ days of the month, where, if, by some MIRACLE OF GOD, I ovulated, I would end up pregnant. Other than that, nada. Nothing. This bullshit continues. Before any of you say anything, I've tried all the suggestions you could come up with and then some, ok? I'm a creative woman you know?
Anyway, for the longest time, I thought it was my imagination, but then? I started quietly marking down on my calendar and sure enough, it was on or around day 13-15 of my cycle and NOT any other time. So, he was in denial when I mentioned it, and I showed him, and he got quiet, and ever since? Hardly ever, even during potential ovulation time. Which brings us to the second part of Cheryl’s question….
How often would I like to do it? At least 3-4 days a week. (Notice I didn’t say times but days? Yeah, a couple of times a day is nice. Ahhhh, the good ole days.) But if it was more often, I wouldn’t complain, ya know? Hell at this point? I'd be happy with some heavy petting.
What? Believe it or not, I have a pretty –ahem!-high sex drive, although perhaps you wouldn’t know it to see how long I go in between. Bottom line is, I DO have some pride, and I’ll be god dammed if I’m going to beg for it. I honestly never, ever thought we would reach this point, not us, we used to have a great physical relationship. But that was then and this is now.
Well shit, now I’m depressed. Sexually frustrated and depressed. Hell, that is one bad combo.
Wenchie nailed me with:
Have you ever been arrested? If not, what's the closest you've ever come?
Wenchie, woman! You have the best blog name! I LOVE IT!!! Now, for the answer to your question.
Well, there was a little misunderstanding when I was 17 and boy did I learn my lesson!
It was all because of my stupidity & forgetfulness more than anything, really. I was working in retail, and mid-morning I tried on a belt (it was really nice), but then it got SUPER busy and I forgot I was wearing the damn thing. An hour or so later, it’s break time and –kapow- the store security pounced on me when I went to get a smoothie. I’m sure you can guess the rest.
Damn, it’s not like I’m Winona Ryder or anything sneaking around with scissors in a dressing room or something!
Now to a considerably more tame question from Catrina……
Now that you have your job, when can you take vacation? Hint Hint?
Well pussycat, funny you should ask me that! I’ve been thinking about when I should take it, when the best time will be lately. Yes, now I’m working, so I’m in the process of strategizing and planning for my trip.
My vacation is back on, exactly when, I can’t say yet, but trust me, you will know, (Since I’m planning on crashing at your place for a couple of days! Hint! Hint! Hee hee (Don’t y’all love the way I invited myself? Shut it. I’ve known Cat for – gulp – AGES.
In fact, Ollie might just get to see me too (you know, if she wants to!) espceically if my mom has relocated back home to S.C. like she is planning by then.
Oh and Rose? If you’re reading this? Don’t feel left out, I’m going to hit you up too, girlfriend!!!! (Yeah, I’m making the rounds of LA, aren’t I?!)
I'm hitting both coasts in the States and a point or two in between as of today. If you're anywhere near where I might be, let me know, I'd love to meet ya!
Thank you all for your questions. Adieu my darlings.
Deepest Apologies
I am not,I repeat NOT a flake. i just didn't post because my inet at home is down. Boy, I could not wait to get in to work to post. I'm really so addicted to blogging, it's kind of like a crack addict needing a fix.
Mind you, I'm not a crack addict or anything, just an analogy, you understand.
Keep your eyes open, post will be up soon.
Love,
Scarlett Cyn
I am not,I repeat NOT a flake. i just didn't post because my inet at home is down. Boy, I could not wait to get in to work to post. I'm really so addicted to blogging, it's kind of like a crack addict needing a fix.
Mind you, I'm not a crack addict or anything, just an analogy, you understand.
Keep your eyes open, post will be up soon.
Love,
Scarlett Cyn
3/31/2005
"It's Beyond My Control....."
That is one of my favorite movie lines ..... EVAH. Do you recognise it, I wonder? Yes, I really DO want to know. Do you remember the movie it came from-one of my favorites- and even better, WHO said it? I love this actor. Hint: he's a bit weird, but sexy, in a weird way, and I'll watch just about anything he is in. PS: Duh, the hint was it is a MAN.
At any rate, it is very appropriate for why there hasn't been a blog post from little ole me in the past couple of days.
Blogger sucks ass lately, that's why. Therefore, it's beyond my control.
I've tried to post-count em- 3 posts in the past two days and I get everything all done and purty, ready to post for you and then I hit "publish" and..... Nothin. It -Blogger-crashes. Asswipes.
On another note, Z was diagnosed day before yesterday with Type 2 Diabetes, he was very close to falling into shock when I dragged his ass in to the doctor. (He's worse than a 3 year old going for immunizations) I got a crash course in injection giving (so did he) and how to check his glucose levels, what to eat, what NOT to eat...
Back to the needles. I don't know who was more traumatized, me or him. The jury is still out on that one. I managed to get sneaky when talking to his specailist when I said "Thanks Doc! He's gonna have to be a pussycat to me 24/7 now that I get to stick him with needles!" This was said with a BIG grin on my part. Next thing I know, I hear "GIVE ME THAT SYRINGE!". Heh. I'm a weasel, aren't I? But I'm still doing the glucose checking and preparation of the insulin shots, so, I get my sticking time in too! heee heee. Poor guy. *poke* I told him, one peep out of you and I'll remind you of ALLLLLLL those needles I've taken trying to get pregnant.
But my poor hubby, he is such a cookiemonster and chocoholic specifically, so when the whole "bye bye to real chocolate & sweets (and rice and pasta, and potatoes for the time being)" hit him, I swear he got teary. Funniest thing he said last night, when I pointed out all the stuff they have for diabetics, diabetic chocolate, cookies, etc.. for when his insulin gets under control, I guess he thought about it for a while, cause about 2 hours later, he looked at me and said "You think there is such a thing as diabetic chocolate cake?". I couldn't help but laugh. He looked so damn hopeful.
What sucks? Arianna. When she sees ME get injections, she is morbidly fascinated by the whole process, and laughs her ass off while I'm getting stuck. But last night? The mere thought of her Dad being poked with that gun-needle thingie for the glucose test got her choked up and covering her eyes (wtf??) and the whole injection of the insulin made her run sobbing out of the room. W.T.F.???
Man, that's unfair. And yes, I'm pouting.
Last chance y'all for questions for the Inquisition this week. Questions? Anyone? Anyone? Helloooooooooooo???????
*Crickets chirping*
That is one of my favorite movie lines ..... EVAH. Do you recognise it, I wonder? Yes, I really DO want to know. Do you remember the movie it came from-one of my favorites- and even better, WHO said it? I love this actor. Hint: he's a bit weird, but sexy, in a weird way, and I'll watch just about anything he is in. PS: Duh, the hint was it is a MAN.
At any rate, it is very appropriate for why there hasn't been a blog post from little ole me in the past couple of days.
Blogger sucks ass lately, that's why. Therefore, it's beyond my control.
I've tried to post-count em- 3 posts in the past two days and I get everything all done and purty, ready to post for you and then I hit "publish" and..... Nothin. It -Blogger-crashes. Asswipes.
On another note, Z was diagnosed day before yesterday with Type 2 Diabetes, he was very close to falling into shock when I dragged his ass in to the doctor. (He's worse than a 3 year old going for immunizations) I got a crash course in injection giving (so did he) and how to check his glucose levels, what to eat, what NOT to eat...
Back to the needles. I don't know who was more traumatized, me or him. The jury is still out on that one. I managed to get sneaky when talking to his specailist when I said "Thanks Doc! He's gonna have to be a pussycat to me 24/7 now that I get to stick him with needles!" This was said with a BIG grin on my part. Next thing I know, I hear "GIVE ME THAT SYRINGE!". Heh. I'm a weasel, aren't I? But I'm still doing the glucose checking and preparation of the insulin shots, so, I get my sticking time in too! heee heee. Poor guy. *poke* I told him, one peep out of you and I'll remind you of ALLLLLLL those needles I've taken trying to get pregnant.
But my poor hubby, he is such a cookiemonster and chocoholic specifically, so when the whole "bye bye to real chocolate & sweets (and rice and pasta, and potatoes for the time being)" hit him, I swear he got teary. Funniest thing he said last night, when I pointed out all the stuff they have for diabetics, diabetic chocolate, cookies, etc.. for when his insulin gets under control, I guess he thought about it for a while, cause about 2 hours later, he looked at me and said "You think there is such a thing as diabetic chocolate cake?". I couldn't help but laugh. He looked so damn hopeful.
What sucks? Arianna. When she sees ME get injections, she is morbidly fascinated by the whole process, and laughs her ass off while I'm getting stuck. But last night? The mere thought of her Dad being poked with that gun-needle thingie for the glucose test got her choked up and covering her eyes (wtf??) and the whole injection of the insulin made her run sobbing out of the room. W.T.F.???
Man, that's unfair. And yes, I'm pouting.
Last chance y'all for questions for the Inquisition this week. Questions? Anyone? Anyone? Helloooooooooooo???????
*Crickets chirping*
3/28/2005
R.I.P.
A great woman has passed away. Dr. Georgeanna Seegar Jones, who helped develop the program that led to America's first "test-tube baby," has died. She was 92.
When I read of her many accomplishments here,-her work laid the foundations for home pregnancy tests, for example- I was even more amazed. And grateful. Because of her and her husband,(and the pioneer in England too) and work of others after her, many women like me who might never have had children or even the HOPE of having a child of their own now have an option. An expensive one, yes, but an option. Hope. A possibillity. As someone who has gone through four IVF proceedures, (although failed) I salute her.
Rest in peace Dr. Jones. You definetly deserve it. God Bless you.
A great woman has passed away. Dr. Georgeanna Seegar Jones, who helped develop the program that led to America's first "test-tube baby," has died. She was 92.
When I read of her many accomplishments here,-her work laid the foundations for home pregnancy tests, for example- I was even more amazed. And grateful. Because of her and her husband,(and the pioneer in England too) and work of others after her, many women like me who might never have had children or even the HOPE of having a child of their own now have an option. An expensive one, yes, but an option. Hope. A possibillity. As someone who has gone through four IVF proceedures, (although failed) I salute her.
Rest in peace Dr. Jones. You definetly deserve it. God Bless you.
3/27/2005
Happy Easter!
To all my readers and frequent or infrequent lurkers, I'd like to wish you a Happy Easter whether you're Christian or not!
I mean, The Easter Bunny has NOTHING to do with Christianity, now does he? Nope.
I'm accepting Easter gifts in the form of Chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies, cause I love them SO and we don't get them here where I live, which is thoroughly depressing in the extreme, believe me! Alternatively, Easter Egg shaped rescues Peanut Butter Cups will drive you DEEP into the recesses of my heart with the force of TNT.
I would also like to announce that I am formally re-instating The Weekly Inquisition, for those of you who have missed picking at my brains each week, starting this week.
In case you've forgotten, ask me a question , whatever strikes your fancy, by 12 Noon Pacific time on Tuesday and I'll reply by Wednesday morning. That's it.
Go on, I'll be waiting. For both your chocolate donations AND your questions.
To all my readers and frequent or infrequent lurkers, I'd like to wish you a Happy Easter whether you're Christian or not!
I mean, The Easter Bunny has NOTHING to do with Christianity, now does he? Nope.
I'm accepting Easter gifts in the form of Chocolate covered marshmallow bunnies, cause I love them SO and we don't get them here where I live, which is thoroughly depressing in the extreme, believe me! Alternatively, Easter Egg shaped rescues Peanut Butter Cups will drive you DEEP into the recesses of my heart with the force of TNT.
I would also like to announce that I am formally re-instating The Weekly Inquisition, for those of you who have missed picking at my brains each week, starting this week.
In case you've forgotten, ask me a question , whatever strikes your fancy, by 12 Noon Pacific time on Tuesday and I'll reply by Wednesday morning. That's it.
Go on, I'll be waiting. For both your chocolate donations AND your questions.
3/23/2005
The Snooze Button.
You know its going to be a day from HELL when.................
You hit the "Off" button instead of "Snooze" and hell if you can remember doing it because you were sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted and half dead.
You wake up, WIDE AWAKE AND HEART POUNNDING, look at the clock and realize in horror and dismay that you should be pulling out of the driveway..... NOW.
You suddenly remember in absolute terror what your travel agent manager husband said about the hotel you booked for your boss as you were drifting off to sleep last night. (Curious? The tidbit was that the 5* hotel you booked for your boss and the Deputy CE of the major investor of the bank has a truly spectacular view of................. a graveyard. What kind of dumb ass builds a 5-star hotel near a freaking graveyard I ask you?)
Just when you thought it was bad enough working 2 hrs past' going home time', some asshat walks up to you, hands you a proposal that MUST be on the desk of the BOARD OF DIRECTORS TOMORROW MORNING. Hint, only one of them lives in the same country I DO.
Its now after 7pm and you are still at work- tried to calm your frazzled nerves by sharing SOME.OF.IT with the internet on your blog, because you have no idea whatsoever when you are going to go home tonight.
See? I seek my blog readers - yes YOU!- for comfort.
And how was your day?
PS: Just so you don't think I'm ungrateful for the work, because I'm truly grateful for the work, realize this: While each of the people at work are stressed with 20 things to do today, NOTHING happens in this Bank without going through ME and my boss first, because, bless his heart, he is a control freak just like me. each of their 20 things, for 8 departments, I have to deal with, from small to big and it is ALL extremely sensitive, confidential material. Plus he has me Assisting the Head of HR until her assistant can start next month and I'm responsible for the Board of Directors.
Come on April 4! That's when my assistant starts working. Whoot!! I love her already. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell y'all. I hired myself an Assistant! Yaay. Hot Damn!
You know its going to be a day from HELL when.................
You hit the "Off" button instead of "Snooze" and hell if you can remember doing it because you were sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted and half dead.
You wake up, WIDE AWAKE AND HEART POUNNDING, look at the clock and realize in horror and dismay that you should be pulling out of the driveway..... NOW.
You suddenly remember in absolute terror what your travel agent manager husband said about the hotel you booked for your boss as you were drifting off to sleep last night. (Curious? The tidbit was that the 5* hotel you booked for your boss and the Deputy CE of the major investor of the bank has a truly spectacular view of................. a graveyard. What kind of dumb ass builds a 5-star hotel near a freaking graveyard I ask you?)
Just when you thought it was bad enough working 2 hrs past' going home time', some asshat walks up to you, hands you a proposal that MUST be on the desk of the BOARD OF DIRECTORS TOMORROW MORNING. Hint, only one of them lives in the same country I DO.
Its now after 7pm and you are still at work- tried to calm your frazzled nerves by sharing SOME.OF.IT with the internet on your blog, because you have no idea whatsoever when you are going to go home tonight.
See? I seek my blog readers - yes YOU!- for comfort.
And how was your day?
PS: Just so you don't think I'm ungrateful for the work, because I'm truly grateful for the work, realize this: While each of the people at work are stressed with 20 things to do today, NOTHING happens in this Bank without going through ME and my boss first, because, bless his heart, he is a control freak just like me. each of their 20 things, for 8 departments, I have to deal with, from small to big and it is ALL extremely sensitive, confidential material. Plus he has me Assisting the Head of HR until her assistant can start next month and I'm responsible for the Board of Directors.
Come on April 4! That's when my assistant starts working. Whoot!! I love her already. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell y'all. I hired myself an Assistant! Yaay. Hot Damn!
3/22/2005
Why Does She Do That?
I'm sure this is the question that goes through the minds of security staff daily. Particulary at my work.
I'll give you all the number one reason I could never be a bank robber or thief in general:
I have this odd habit of making faces at security cameras.
I really do. And I do it a lot. I mean. A. LOT.
In Banks, at ATM machines (my favorite, actually) at work, in elevators, not in stores so much, but sometimes? The urge hits to do it there too! And when I mean make faces? I mean make faces like a 3 year old. Crossed eyes, or bugged eyes (depending on mood) sticking the tongue out at different angles-type faces. Heh.
Juvenile of me, I know, but it's fun. Its an almost uncontrollable urge I have. Silly me.
Imagine me trying to rob a bank or something,hmm? Pull of the heist without a hitch, then... as I try to leave with the loot I pass a security camera and.......
*makes face, sticks tongue out* sings "nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah nyaaaaahhhhhhhh!" *shakes butt*
Not that I'd ever want to or anything. Rob a bank. But you know what I mean.
Right? *makes a face*
I'm sure this is the question that goes through the minds of security staff daily. Particulary at my work.
I'll give you all the number one reason I could never be a bank robber or thief in general:
I have this odd habit of making faces at security cameras.
I really do. And I do it a lot. I mean. A. LOT.
In Banks, at ATM machines (my favorite, actually) at work, in elevators, not in stores so much, but sometimes? The urge hits to do it there too! And when I mean make faces? I mean make faces like a 3 year old. Crossed eyes, or bugged eyes (depending on mood) sticking the tongue out at different angles-type faces. Heh.
Juvenile of me, I know, but it's fun. Its an almost uncontrollable urge I have. Silly me.
Imagine me trying to rob a bank or something,hmm? Pull of the heist without a hitch, then... as I try to leave with the loot I pass a security camera and.......
*makes face, sticks tongue out* sings "nyah nyah nyah nyah nyaaaah nyaaaaahhhhhhhh!" *shakes butt*
Not that I'd ever want to or anything. Rob a bank. But you know what I mean.
Right? *makes a face*
3/20/2005
Welcome To My NIGHTMARE
Otherwise known as "nyah nyah nyah nyah Nyahhhhh NYAAAAAH DAD!".
*cue "Under the Sea" song from Little Mermaid now*
Perhaps some of you long-time Haven readers may recall my little dislike of sharks and deep water swimming? The whole debate with my Daddy at the age of around 7 or so about the dangers?
It was really his damn fault in the first place. He figured making me READ the book Jaws when the movie was out (cause there was no way I would go see it) would make me overcome my fears.
Big Mistake DADDY.
You also might recall that he always told me they would never come near shore. (nice try). And I am quite positive that he was just saying that to make me calm the hell down as I clung to his neck out DEEP in the water, cutting off his air with my deathgrip. Yeah, quite possible, now that I look back on the situation. That realization did nothing to stop me from rubbing it in his face a few years ago (read: 25 years + later) when some poor sucker standing waist deep - if that- off a Florida beach (where I grew up and said choking incident of my father way-the-hell-out-so-far-people-on-the-beach-looked-like-termites occured, mind you!) was killed, or chomped on by a shark. whatever.
Fast forward to today. While I am cruising through CNN (God bless them). I read. THIS.
This is exactly the kind of shit I was worried about. A 20 ft shark? Tore that poor bastard IN HALF while snorkeling.
*Dad, I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!! (Let me enjoy it. I mean, I've rarely ever been able to say that to him, and consider living to brag about it!!)
Otherwise known as "nyah nyah nyah nyah Nyahhhhh NYAAAAAH DAD!".
*cue "Under the Sea" song from Little Mermaid now*
Perhaps some of you long-time Haven readers may recall my little dislike of sharks and deep water swimming? The whole debate with my Daddy at the age of around 7 or so about the dangers?
It was really his damn fault in the first place. He figured making me READ the book Jaws when the movie was out (cause there was no way I would go see it) would make me overcome my fears.
Big Mistake DADDY.
You also might recall that he always told me they would never come near shore. (nice try). And I am quite positive that he was just saying that to make me calm the hell down as I clung to his neck out DEEP in the water, cutting off his air with my deathgrip. Yeah, quite possible, now that I look back on the situation. That realization did nothing to stop me from rubbing it in his face a few years ago (read: 25 years + later) when some poor sucker standing waist deep - if that- off a Florida beach (where I grew up and said choking incident of my father way-the-hell-out-so-far-people-on-the-beach-looked-like-termites occured, mind you!) was killed, or chomped on by a shark. whatever.
Fast forward to today. While I am cruising through CNN (God bless them). I read. THIS.
This is exactly the kind of shit I was worried about. A 20 ft shark? Tore that poor bastard IN HALF while snorkeling.
I can only hope he didn't know what the fuck hit him. Its enough, really, that I do. 20. Foot. Shark. That is one big damn shark, no?
*shudder*
*Dad, I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!! (Let me enjoy it. I mean, I've rarely ever been able to say that to him, and consider living to brag about it!!)
3/18/2005
Hello! I'm pissed at BLOGGER.....again.
Hi. It's me. You probably thought I dropped off a cliff, didn't YOU?
Well I didn't. Blogger was being a sh*thead, is what.
I posted a lovely DOUBLE POST MIND YOU DAMMIT yesterday for St. Patrick's Day, me being Irish and all that, and BLOGGER WOULDN'T let me POST, the asswipes. Gee, can you tell I'm a little bit perturbed by that? Yeah, I thought you could.
I have to wish all my friends, and most especially my readers of Irish extraction (or those that are purely) Irish a very happy and belated St. Patrick's Day.
May the luck (not mine tho, cause is sucks) of the Irish be with you. May the wind always be at your back. May you find a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and if you do so? May you share some of your shiny windfall with your friend and fav-o'rite blogger, Scarlett Cyn!
My Irish eyes are smiling..... at YOU! KISS ME, I'M IRISH!!!!!!!! *puckers*
Anyway, I had also attemped to post about a funny happening at work yesterday, since it was one of those "I'M SO BLOGGING THIS!!!!!" moments.
I'm sit at my desk minding my own business when my office phone rings. Fine. I answer. The male voice on the other end asks for me. "Speaking, how may I help you?" I reply.
The guy begins by telling me that he was in visiting the Corporrate Banking Manager (who's office is about 20 ft from me) the other day and met me and do I remember him? He is a friend of T (the Mgr) Kept mentioning the name of T. Now please remember, I work in a bank, but not the retail part, I work for the CEO of a bank, dammit. Anyway.... I said "How can I help you?" and ... here's your blow-by-blow:
Caller: "Well I was wondering, what I should do this weekend"
Me: ---??----um? this weekend?"
Caller: yes. do you havve any idea?
Me: "Oh, are you here in Bahrain for the weekend then?" (not getting it at this point, obviously and still being all helpful and professional, although still damn confused)
Caller: "No. I live here."
Me: ----??!!-----uh......
Caller: "So what do YOU usually do on the weekend Cynthia?"
Me: (suspicion slowly creeping in to mby brain) Spend. Time. With. My. Family."
Caller: "Oh, so then you don't really go out on the weekend then? You don't have any suggestions for me"
Me: "Other than with my family, um, no"
Caller: "That's a shame. So, you won't go out this weekend then.. not with anyone..."
He went on for a while yet By this time, you probably realize that he was hitting on me. Yeah, A client of the bank was asking me out over the weekend. I went from being dumb to playing dumb. It was all rather.. awkward. And I was in shock. I mean he IS a client. He finally ended by saying "Then, I guess I can't see you until my appointment next week then. Take care Cyn. See you next week". Me: "Uh, huh.....".
I hung up the phone staring at the phone unit with my mouth gaping open and my eyes HUGE in shock... kinda how I would look if JAWS was coming at me.
A bank client was hitting on me.
Funny huh? Perv. That kind of blast's Z's theory out of the water, huh? I told him to see what he would say.... and he said "You're kidding? Huh. Well, it's your fault you didn't tell him you're married." (He doesn't think men are attracted to non-skinny girls. I'm not skinny by a longshot-heh-, but it's more voluptous and balanced quite nicely. Just cause HE doesn't like it, he thinks No one does. UGh!") Funny, I would swear I can hear Carrie Jo's hissyfit all the way over here on the other side of the planet.
My response to the DOH! remark of the week? "If he couldn't see this fat diamond wedding ring on my finger under all those halogen spotlights above my desk that make it blinding, it's not my fault! And what makes you think me being married would change ANYTHING? Some men find that more attractive. No strings. No expectations."
He just doesn't get it. And if he keeps up this line of thinking, he wont be getting anything else either!
PS: Can I throw out a little question? Am I being bitchy to be irritated in the extreme of his intense and obesessive intrest in his Niece's infertilty treatment cycle the past week or two? He knows DAY BY DAY what she's doing, injection amounts, no of follicles and size, and even went all over town with her hunting medicine AND went to the doctor with her.
I honestly would have said when he was remarking today "Do you think it worked? They had to do it like rabbits yesterday and today." I came very close and only just stopped myself from saying "I don't give a flying f*ck, actually." But I controlled myself. It would have started a huge arguement, and while it is probably needed, due to his complete lack of interest and support in our OWN trials last year, I honestly just am too exhausted at the moment.
Hi. It's me. You probably thought I dropped off a cliff, didn't YOU?
Well I didn't. Blogger was being a sh*thead, is what.
I posted a lovely DOUBLE POST MIND YOU DAMMIT yesterday for St. Patrick's Day, me being Irish and all that, and BLOGGER WOULDN'T let me POST, the asswipes. Gee, can you tell I'm a little bit perturbed by that? Yeah, I thought you could.
I have to wish all my friends, and most especially my readers of Irish extraction (or those that are purely) Irish a very happy and belated St. Patrick's Day.
May the luck (not mine tho, cause is sucks) of the Irish be with you. May the wind always be at your back. May you find a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow, and if you do so? May you share some of your shiny windfall with your friend and fav-o'rite blogger, Scarlett Cyn!
My Irish eyes are smiling..... at YOU! KISS ME, I'M IRISH!!!!!!!! *puckers*
Anyway, I had also attemped to post about a funny happening at work yesterday, since it was one of those "I'M SO BLOGGING THIS!!!!!" moments.
I'm sit at my desk minding my own business when my office phone rings. Fine. I answer. The male voice on the other end asks for me. "Speaking, how may I help you?" I reply.
The guy begins by telling me that he was in visiting the Corporrate Banking Manager (who's office is about 20 ft from me) the other day and met me and do I remember him? He is a friend of T (the Mgr) Kept mentioning the name of T. Now please remember, I work in a bank, but not the retail part, I work for the CEO of a bank, dammit. Anyway.... I said "How can I help you?" and ... here's your blow-by-blow:
Caller: "Well I was wondering, what I should do this weekend"
Me: ---??----um? this weekend?"
Caller: yes. do you havve any idea?
Me: "Oh, are you here in Bahrain for the weekend then?" (not getting it at this point, obviously and still being all helpful and professional, although still damn confused)
Caller: "No. I live here."
Me: ----??!!-----uh......
Caller: "So what do YOU usually do on the weekend Cynthia?"
Me: (suspicion slowly creeping in to mby brain) Spend. Time. With. My. Family."
Caller: "Oh, so then you don't really go out on the weekend then? You don't have any suggestions for me"
Me: "Other than with my family, um, no"
Caller: "That's a shame. So, you won't go out this weekend then.. not with anyone..."
He went on for a while yet By this time, you probably realize that he was hitting on me. Yeah, A client of the bank was asking me out over the weekend. I went from being dumb to playing dumb. It was all rather.. awkward. And I was in shock. I mean he IS a client. He finally ended by saying "Then, I guess I can't see you until my appointment next week then. Take care Cyn. See you next week". Me: "Uh, huh.....".
I hung up the phone staring at the phone unit with my mouth gaping open and my eyes HUGE in shock... kinda how I would look if JAWS was coming at me.
A bank client was hitting on me.
Funny huh? Perv. That kind of blast's Z's theory out of the water, huh? I told him to see what he would say.... and he said "You're kidding? Huh. Well, it's your fault you didn't tell him you're married." (He doesn't think men are attracted to non-skinny girls. I'm not skinny by a longshot-heh-, but it's more voluptous and balanced quite nicely. Just cause HE doesn't like it, he thinks No one does. UGh!") Funny, I would swear I can hear Carrie Jo's hissyfit all the way over here on the other side of the planet.
My response to the DOH! remark of the week? "If he couldn't see this fat diamond wedding ring on my finger under all those halogen spotlights above my desk that make it blinding, it's not my fault! And what makes you think me being married would change ANYTHING? Some men find that more attractive. No strings. No expectations."
He just doesn't get it. And if he keeps up this line of thinking, he wont be getting anything else either!
PS: Can I throw out a little question? Am I being bitchy to be irritated in the extreme of his intense and obesessive intrest in his Niece's infertilty treatment cycle the past week or two? He knows DAY BY DAY what she's doing, injection amounts, no of follicles and size, and even went all over town with her hunting medicine AND went to the doctor with her.
I honestly would have said when he was remarking today "Do you think it worked? They had to do it like rabbits yesterday and today." I came very close and only just stopped myself from saying "I don't give a flying f*ck, actually." But I controlled myself. It would have started a huge arguement, and while it is probably needed, due to his complete lack of interest and support in our OWN trials last year, I honestly just am too exhausted at the moment.
3/16/2005
I Think I Can, I Think I Can! I Think I Can, I Think I Can........
Sometimes I amaze myself.
There have been times in my life when I am completely and totally overwhelmed when I find myself thinking I have perhaps or DEFINTELY YOU SILLY BITCH taken on more than I can chew and find myself drowning in the project that I find myself thinking "I don't know if I can do this!" But I am continually amazed how I somehow manage to finish what I've given myself up for, regardless of how much it takes out of me to do so.
I feel a certain sense of pride to have accomplished something that even I doubted I could manage to come through on and complete, even if only for the barest minute or 5 of a mild panic attack
I had one of those times today.. again. At work. I was honestly All OVER THE PLACE and stretched oh so thin and wondering how in God's name a color printer that cost about US$9,000 can't print any faster than the snails pace it does. And also a pet peeve of mine with network printers?
When you click print, like a normal person, and have to make sure that proper letterhead is in, blah blah blah and you realize that some joker-usually your own boss- has hit print without your knowledge and there, my friend, goes your letterhead you just put in. So you have to reprint again. But AGAIN with the other person hitting the print button after you mentioned very clearly that you were GOING TO PRINT DAMMIT. repeat 4 times.
Last minute I had to send 6 proposals to the Board of Directors. Hmmmm. Nice, excecpt that my boss was travelling this afternoon , the stuff had to go with his signature and that after he signed? He took another look and started WRITING ON IT, which means that you have to REPRINT THE DAMN THING on said snail speed color printer AFTER YOU MAKE CHANGES but then he decides, once it's all reprinted mind you, that he liked the ORIGINAL ONE better that I did in the first place and can you just use that? Well no, sorry, because, well IT"S BEEN SHREDDED NOOOOOOWWWW
To qupte my darling girl Carrie Jo.... "fucknuggets".
*cue dizzying despair*
Well,I managed to complete EVERYTHING and then some until 7pm. Whew, I'm beat.
I'm going to take my dizzy little self off to bed before I flip off the computer chair.
Nightie night loves.
Sometimes I amaze myself.
There have been times in my life when I am completely and totally overwhelmed when I find myself thinking I have perhaps or DEFINTELY YOU SILLY BITCH taken on more than I can chew and find myself drowning in the project that I find myself thinking "I don't know if I can do this!" But I am continually amazed how I somehow manage to finish what I've given myself up for, regardless of how much it takes out of me to do so.
I feel a certain sense of pride to have accomplished something that even I doubted I could manage to come through on and complete, even if only for the barest minute or 5 of a mild panic attack
I had one of those times today.. again. At work. I was honestly All OVER THE PLACE and stretched oh so thin and wondering how in God's name a color printer that cost about US$9,000 can't print any faster than the snails pace it does. And also a pet peeve of mine with network printers?
When you click print, like a normal person, and have to make sure that proper letterhead is in, blah blah blah and you realize that some joker-usually your own boss- has hit print without your knowledge and there, my friend, goes your letterhead you just put in. So you have to reprint again. But AGAIN with the other person hitting the print button after you mentioned very clearly that you were GOING TO PRINT DAMMIT. repeat 4 times.
Last minute I had to send 6 proposals to the Board of Directors. Hmmmm. Nice, excecpt that my boss was travelling this afternoon , the stuff had to go with his signature and that after he signed? He took another look and started WRITING ON IT, which means that you have to REPRINT THE DAMN THING on said snail speed color printer AFTER YOU MAKE CHANGES but then he decides, once it's all reprinted mind you, that he liked the ORIGINAL ONE better that I did in the first place and can you just use that? Well no, sorry, because, well IT"S BEEN SHREDDED NOOOOOOWWWW
To qupte my darling girl Carrie Jo.... "fucknuggets".
*cue dizzying despair*
Well,I managed to complete EVERYTHING and then some until 7pm. Whew, I'm beat.
I'm going to take my dizzy little self off to bed before I flip off the computer chair.
Nightie night loves.
3/15/2005
I did what?
Well, here you have it. I'm going to give you proof that I've gone and lost my fucking mind. I hope you're prepared.
As if I don't have enough work on my hands already, I stuck my nose, ass, foot, mouth, whole body into something that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. New premises for the bank I work at.
Being a control freak is a bit of a bitch, actually. Gets me into all sorts of stuff. Like this for instance:
I have slowly been immersing myself into this business of locating a future site for the bank headquarters. What with the projections and all for the next year or so, we are going to outgrow where we currently are sooner than later, and there are two new projects, MAJOR projects going up right now. I noticed that my boss, the CEO, was being courted by THIS PLACE and after I nosily looked at the blueprints of the floor plan and building design (because this is a little hobby of mine that not many people know about. Hmm. Well, until now anyway!) I decided that it really would not do. No matter how pretty and cool they look. Because THIS is really so much better. There are several reasons why this is better, which I , in my devious way, pointed out to my boss by calling a guy I know that is running the development of MY CHOICE to arrange for a presentation.
OUR appointment with him is tomorrow. Did any of you catch that? I thought you might.
Yeah. I basically presented my very experienced opinion, because well, I've done such a project, sort of , in the past. Or been quite involved anyway. With one little exception. This boss? Freely gave me the power to take a big hand in this and he trusts my judgement, I think. Between that, my little blueprint hobby that I confessed to him also today, and me selfishly wanting to have us at the best location, he allowed me to involve my little control freak, OCD self.
Oh boy.
Then I went back to my desk all happy with my accomplishment to see my pile of work, only to mutter to myself…..I said what? I did what? Oh Gawd. I have GOT TO get my assistant SOON.
Then I went to pull my foot out of my mouth. Heh.
Well, here you have it. I'm going to give you proof that I've gone and lost my fucking mind. I hope you're prepared.
As if I don't have enough work on my hands already, I stuck my nose, ass, foot, mouth, whole body into something that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. New premises for the bank I work at.
Being a control freak is a bit of a bitch, actually. Gets me into all sorts of stuff. Like this for instance:
I have slowly been immersing myself into this business of locating a future site for the bank headquarters. What with the projections and all for the next year or so, we are going to outgrow where we currently are sooner than later, and there are two new projects, MAJOR projects going up right now. I noticed that my boss, the CEO, was being courted by THIS PLACE and after I nosily looked at the blueprints of the floor plan and building design (because this is a little hobby of mine that not many people know about. Hmm. Well, until now anyway!) I decided that it really would not do. No matter how pretty and cool they look. Because THIS is really so much better. There are several reasons why this is better, which I , in my devious way, pointed out to my boss by calling a guy I know that is running the development of MY CHOICE to arrange for a presentation.
OUR appointment with him is tomorrow. Did any of you catch that? I thought you might.
Yeah. I basically presented my very experienced opinion, because well, I've done such a project, sort of , in the past. Or been quite involved anyway. With one little exception. This boss? Freely gave me the power to take a big hand in this and he trusts my judgement, I think. Between that, my little blueprint hobby that I confessed to him also today, and me selfishly wanting to have us at the best location, he allowed me to involve my little control freak, OCD self.
Oh boy.
Then I went back to my desk all happy with my accomplishment to see my pile of work, only to mutter to myself…..I said what? I did what? Oh Gawd. I have GOT TO get my assistant SOON.
Then I went to pull my foot out of my mouth. Heh.
3/14/2005
Inquisition Confession – Week 17? 18? 19? 30?
Well hell if I remember! What ended up as over 95 hrs of overtime for Feb tends to f*ck with your memory, ya know?
What was I saying? Oh God. Am I getting senile? At 33?
Oh yeah. Now I remember…. I think.
I was actually going to answer the sweetest, most darling blog readers….. MY darling blog readers… who lately have had ZILCH to read. And I mean diddly squat. Well except for the chopsticks post, that is. Well, and the little post about my boobs. And that one report about my mild and definitely unplanned for drunken stupor.
Now I don't remember when or what week these questions were asked, but hey, I just started cruising through my comments and Gmail and I came up with these. If I missed your question…. Well hell. Ask me for THIS WEEK BABY!
But first. Can I just tell y'all something? While I love me some Garfield. (My kitten) I am hopelessly, deeply in love with Bandit. Bandit is the little furry bugger that was trying to swing from my hoop earrings the other week, bless his little purring self. This kitten sits on my boobs and stares at me…. Just stares at me ooooozing love from his big blue eyes. Sometimes, because he IS a boy, he lays in my cleavage, hugging a boob, tries to nurse (to which I say "Honey. That has been empty of milk for YEARS!) but he sorta hugs my boob and….
Stares at me. Deep in my eyes. He is still little soul (except for when he is giving me mad kisses on my cheek, ear or chin), unlike Garfield. Garfee is a cute fat ass cat. He is as big as Bandit, who is 1 week older than him. Garfee is NEEDY. If he isn't getting sufficient attention, he bitches-loudly- until he gets it. Garfield is getting more and more red, bless his fat butt. And Bandit? His blue points are such a deep blue as to be almost Navy. It's like the color of a blueberry. And his fur? If you blow on it and get a "part"? It's like he has blue roots with cream ends more than halfway out. Much like that look Shakira had going on a year or so ago. SO CUTE on the cat. Not so cute on Shakira.
OH? And Isis? Is really ready to pop her kittens any day now. And Garfield's mom? Miss Scarlett? I've been calling her a whore all day now. She's been getting her groove on since night before last. God help me. I SO wanna fix Max. Z won't let me. Something about men and their nutsack and the whole empathy thing. I dunno.
On to the questions.
Catrina gets to be first this week with her question:
What is the primary language spoken in the office where you work?
Well Cat, the primary language is English, surprisingly. Arabic is an official language and the bank I work for IS an Arab bank, but there are also so very many Persian Bahraini's here, that Persian, or the local version of it, is spoken a lot. By myself included. MY boss thinks it's cool I speak it.
Generally, I am constantly amazed by the number of genuinely good people that work where I do.
Carrie Jo nailed my ass but good (Lemmie out of the corner, willya? Jeez) with this one:
Have you ever seriously considered having an affair? ;o) Just thought I'd keep it interesting for you.-Carrie Jo
Well, well, well! Miss Carrie Jo! Let's hope Z doesn't read my blog for a while, hmmmm?
Teasing. Sort of.
Out of curiosity, do all my detailed plans of rocking Simon le Bon or John Taylor's world count? Cause if it does? Then hell yes. Because Simon could have me on my back in 5 seconds flat. (Or me have him on his, either way is ALL GOOD) I think he still looks damn good, and so does John for that matter. ROWRRRRR!
An affair. Well, this IS interesting, now isn't it? And a bit tricky as well.
See, I personally think of an affair as something 'casual'. Casual sex that you have once or twice, or for a while- short period of time- and then walk away from. So, really no. Because it is pretty much impossible for me to be intimate with someone without deep feelings for them. I'm just not that way. It's not me. It's not in me to have a one night stand. Kissing and petting is one thing (Which I also haven't done since before I met Z many moons ago) but intercourse? NO, to share your body with someone is special. At least to me. That's the way I was raised. A perfect example is the deep an abiding love I have had for the two men mentioned above for over 20 years, so that is some pretty deep feelings. A lot of which is lust and appreciation for the men that they are.
Sure, I've been pissed and thought, "That'd show him but good" when Z has put me down in one way or another. But it really isn't me. (Gee, could I say that phrase any more? I doubt it.)
Not that I haven't had the opportunity. I actually had an opportunity that I didn't even know about until it was way too late to do anything if I wanted to right as I was leaving the States to move here. A good male friend of mine and sort of coworker (was a company rep that came to where I worked every week once or twice) basically confessed everything he felt for me in writing right before I left. Some of the most beautiful sweet flattering things ANY man has ever said to me, of his regrets for keeping his feelings from me, etc… When I read that, and got over the whole shock of HIS confession, all I could see in my mind's eye was the look on his face when one of my female coworkers broke the news that I was moving out of the country to him. The look that all of a sudden made sense. The vibes I felt from him at my farewell party. The kiss on the cheek that I thought was accidentally closer to my mouth than my cheek that I blew off as one too many jello shooters. It was all too clear to me suddenly. But I got on that plane a few days later and waved good bye out the window as it took off to everything and everyone I knew, wondering if and when I would see them all again.
Whew. I think I just confessed more than I planned. Did I ramble? Quite possibly. Oh well.
In a nutshell, I think I would have to have really deep feelings for someone in order to do anything, and if I felt that way, I don't really think it would qualify as casual enough to be categorized as an affair (in my book), now would it?
Chery B, my naughty darling friend is back in the saddle, so to speak, with one of her playful questions I love so.
What do you think of strippers? Some friends and I went to see the Ultimate Males show on Friday and had a blast. Have you ever seen strippers? Also, what do you think of men going (to see women)? – Cheryl b
What do I think of strippers? Um, I don't usually think of em, actually. I've never seen strippers, real strippers. Don't think I'd mind doing it for the sake of the experience, either. I think that men go for different reasons than women go for. Ok, for most women. I could totally be talking from my a*s here, but men, I think, get, ahem, erections and all turned on from it. What with all the cootchie being stuffed in their faces, the whole slow bump and grind and whatnot. By the same token, you can't tell me there is a room full of soaking wet turned on women at Chippendales. The dances are totally different, from what I hear tell (and what little footage of it I've seen) for one thing. Do men give lap dances too? Now THAT might be fun! *hee hee* The stuff I've seen – film snippets- of the men's performance (like Chip's) is exactly that. Performance.
But hey, I could be wrong. I guess this just means that you'll have to take me to see some strippers after you kidnap me to live on the commune with you, Carrie Jo, and the other girls, huh Cheryl? Can we stop on the way though? I need to get change for some 50's! (I'm a good tipper!)
On a related note. I think doing a pole dance could be fun. I saw a TV sitcom where a bunch of women went to a pole dancing class, and it looked so damn fun!
I'm weird, I know.
I received another question from Carrie Jo last week, that went a little something like this:
OK, my question: what does your favorite outfit look like and why is it your favorite? (an easy one for this week)
Ah… an easy one darling Carrie Jo.
Well pussycat, my favorite work outfit goes a little something like this: A black lightweight crepe suit. The blazer is quite long, actually. Clean simple and not overly tailored. With my favorite pale turquoise v-neck blouse underneath. Black open toed sling back heels. I like this suit so much; I have it in Navy also with my favorite pale latte/cream colored blouse. It has trousers or a slightly above the knee length skirt.
That was work. Now for my free time? Casual I freaking adore Capris. Blue jean capris, black denim capris. Cotton capris of various colors and materials. Some short to the knee, some mid calf. I've got a couple of the blue denim ones with beautiful embroidery and/or beading at the hem. In this heat? It's a must for survival since it isn't appropriate really to wear shorts in public for ladies here. (Some do, but it is really more hassle than it is worth, believe me) So I would say capris and a pretty, vibrant colored t-shirt. I'm girly that way. I like tee's with a little something special. I am NOT a walking ad board, capiche? (I wear those kind at home loafing around in my SHORTS! HEH!) For shoes? Sometimes I wear flats, or strappy sandals, or something on my feet with a little more oomph! Depends on my mood. Definitely depends on my mood.
For that in-between look, like when I go shopping at the mall or somewhere out not so casual, it's usually slacks (but sometimes a skirt) and a pretty blouse with strappy heeled sandals.
How's that sweet cheeks?
Well, that's it for this week (month's?) Inquisition Confession. I promise to be a better blogger. Smooches all around for hanging in there and checking my blog periodically. I appreciate it more than you know. I just feel like my get up and go got up and went.
If you see my get up and go, will you let me know? Better yet. Hold it hostage and FedEx it back to me.
Thanks. Adieu my darlings, until I post again!
Well hell if I remember! What ended up as over 95 hrs of overtime for Feb tends to f*ck with your memory, ya know?
What was I saying? Oh God. Am I getting senile? At 33?
Oh yeah. Now I remember…. I think.
I was actually going to answer the sweetest, most darling blog readers….. MY darling blog readers… who lately have had ZILCH to read. And I mean diddly squat. Well except for the chopsticks post, that is. Well, and the little post about my boobs. And that one report about my mild and definitely unplanned for drunken stupor.
Now I don't remember when or what week these questions were asked, but hey, I just started cruising through my comments and Gmail and I came up with these. If I missed your question…. Well hell. Ask me for THIS WEEK BABY!
But first. Can I just tell y'all something? While I love me some Garfield. (My kitten) I am hopelessly, deeply in love with Bandit. Bandit is the little furry bugger that was trying to swing from my hoop earrings the other week, bless his little purring self. This kitten sits on my boobs and stares at me…. Just stares at me ooooozing love from his big blue eyes. Sometimes, because he IS a boy, he lays in my cleavage, hugging a boob, tries to nurse (to which I say "Honey. That has been empty of milk for YEARS!) but he sorta hugs my boob and….
Stares at me. Deep in my eyes. He is still little soul (except for when he is giving me mad kisses on my cheek, ear or chin), unlike Garfield. Garfee is a cute fat ass cat. He is as big as Bandit, who is 1 week older than him. Garfee is NEEDY. If he isn't getting sufficient attention, he bitches-loudly- until he gets it. Garfield is getting more and more red, bless his fat butt. And Bandit? His blue points are such a deep blue as to be almost Navy. It's like the color of a blueberry. And his fur? If you blow on it and get a "part"? It's like he has blue roots with cream ends more than halfway out. Much like that look Shakira had going on a year or so ago. SO CUTE on the cat. Not so cute on Shakira.
OH? And Isis? Is really ready to pop her kittens any day now. And Garfield's mom? Miss Scarlett? I've been calling her a whore all day now. She's been getting her groove on since night before last. God help me. I SO wanna fix Max. Z won't let me. Something about men and their nutsack and the whole empathy thing. I dunno.
On to the questions.
Catrina gets to be first this week with her question:
What is the primary language spoken in the office where you work?
Well Cat, the primary language is English, surprisingly. Arabic is an official language and the bank I work for IS an Arab bank, but there are also so very many Persian Bahraini's here, that Persian, or the local version of it, is spoken a lot. By myself included. MY boss thinks it's cool I speak it.
Generally, I am constantly amazed by the number of genuinely good people that work where I do.
Carrie Jo nailed my ass but good (Lemmie out of the corner, willya? Jeez) with this one:
Have you ever seriously considered having an affair? ;o) Just thought I'd keep it interesting for you.-Carrie Jo
Well, well, well! Miss Carrie Jo! Let's hope Z doesn't read my blog for a while, hmmmm?
Teasing. Sort of.
Out of curiosity, do all my detailed plans of rocking Simon le Bon or John Taylor's world count? Cause if it does? Then hell yes. Because Simon could have me on my back in 5 seconds flat. (Or me have him on his, either way is ALL GOOD) I think he still looks damn good, and so does John for that matter. ROWRRRRR!
An affair. Well, this IS interesting, now isn't it? And a bit tricky as well.
See, I personally think of an affair as something 'casual'. Casual sex that you have once or twice, or for a while- short period of time- and then walk away from. So, really no. Because it is pretty much impossible for me to be intimate with someone without deep feelings for them. I'm just not that way. It's not me. It's not in me to have a one night stand. Kissing and petting is one thing (Which I also haven't done since before I met Z many moons ago) but intercourse? NO, to share your body with someone is special. At least to me. That's the way I was raised. A perfect example is the deep an abiding love I have had for the two men mentioned above for over 20 years, so that is some pretty deep feelings. A lot of which is lust and appreciation for the men that they are.
Sure, I've been pissed and thought, "That'd show him but good" when Z has put me down in one way or another. But it really isn't me. (Gee, could I say that phrase any more? I doubt it.)
Not that I haven't had the opportunity. I actually had an opportunity that I didn't even know about until it was way too late to do anything if I wanted to right as I was leaving the States to move here. A good male friend of mine and sort of coworker (was a company rep that came to where I worked every week once or twice) basically confessed everything he felt for me in writing right before I left. Some of the most beautiful sweet flattering things ANY man has ever said to me, of his regrets for keeping his feelings from me, etc… When I read that, and got over the whole shock of HIS confession, all I could see in my mind's eye was the look on his face when one of my female coworkers broke the news that I was moving out of the country to him. The look that all of a sudden made sense. The vibes I felt from him at my farewell party. The kiss on the cheek that I thought was accidentally closer to my mouth than my cheek that I blew off as one too many jello shooters. It was all too clear to me suddenly. But I got on that plane a few days later and waved good bye out the window as it took off to everything and everyone I knew, wondering if and when I would see them all again.
Whew. I think I just confessed more than I planned. Did I ramble? Quite possibly. Oh well.
In a nutshell, I think I would have to have really deep feelings for someone in order to do anything, and if I felt that way, I don't really think it would qualify as casual enough to be categorized as an affair (in my book), now would it?
Chery B, my naughty darling friend is back in the saddle, so to speak, with one of her playful questions I love so.
What do you think of strippers? Some friends and I went to see the Ultimate Males show on Friday and had a blast. Have you ever seen strippers? Also, what do you think of men going (to see women)? – Cheryl b
What do I think of strippers? Um, I don't usually think of em, actually. I've never seen strippers, real strippers. Don't think I'd mind doing it for the sake of the experience, either. I think that men go for different reasons than women go for. Ok, for most women. I could totally be talking from my a*s here, but men, I think, get, ahem, erections and all turned on from it. What with all the cootchie being stuffed in their faces, the whole slow bump and grind and whatnot. By the same token, you can't tell me there is a room full of soaking wet turned on women at Chippendales. The dances are totally different, from what I hear tell (and what little footage of it I've seen) for one thing. Do men give lap dances too? Now THAT might be fun! *hee hee* The stuff I've seen – film snippets- of the men's performance (like Chip's) is exactly that. Performance.
But hey, I could be wrong. I guess this just means that you'll have to take me to see some strippers after you kidnap me to live on the commune with you, Carrie Jo, and the other girls, huh Cheryl? Can we stop on the way though? I need to get change for some 50's! (I'm a good tipper!)
On a related note. I think doing a pole dance could be fun. I saw a TV sitcom where a bunch of women went to a pole dancing class, and it looked so damn fun!
I'm weird, I know.
I received another question from Carrie Jo last week, that went a little something like this:
OK, my question: what does your favorite outfit look like and why is it your favorite? (an easy one for this week)
Ah… an easy one darling Carrie Jo.
Well pussycat, my favorite work outfit goes a little something like this: A black lightweight crepe suit. The blazer is quite long, actually. Clean simple and not overly tailored. With my favorite pale turquoise v-neck blouse underneath. Black open toed sling back heels. I like this suit so much; I have it in Navy also with my favorite pale latte/cream colored blouse. It has trousers or a slightly above the knee length skirt.
That was work. Now for my free time? Casual I freaking adore Capris. Blue jean capris, black denim capris. Cotton capris of various colors and materials. Some short to the knee, some mid calf. I've got a couple of the blue denim ones with beautiful embroidery and/or beading at the hem. In this heat? It's a must for survival since it isn't appropriate really to wear shorts in public for ladies here. (Some do, but it is really more hassle than it is worth, believe me) So I would say capris and a pretty, vibrant colored t-shirt. I'm girly that way. I like tee's with a little something special. I am NOT a walking ad board, capiche? (I wear those kind at home loafing around in my SHORTS! HEH!) For shoes? Sometimes I wear flats, or strappy sandals, or something on my feet with a little more oomph! Depends on my mood. Definitely depends on my mood.
For that in-between look, like when I go shopping at the mall or somewhere out not so casual, it's usually slacks (but sometimes a skirt) and a pretty blouse with strappy heeled sandals.
How's that sweet cheeks?
Well, that's it for this week (month's?) Inquisition Confession. I promise to be a better blogger. Smooches all around for hanging in there and checking my blog periodically. I appreciate it more than you know. I just feel like my get up and go got up and went.
If you see my get up and go, will you let me know? Better yet. Hold it hostage and FedEx it back to me.
Thanks. Adieu my darlings, until I post again!
3/12/2005
Oh no!
I had a rather frightening revelation of sorts recently that I didn't have time to blog about, although I meant to. I've just been so busy and all... I remembered it, even more frighteningly in the shower a little while ago. I just have to share it, terrifiying as it is.
Yes, I was in the shower, letting my mind wander as I sudsed up my hairas I often do. I get some of the best blog ideas there, where I can't do godddamn thing about it. But I digress.
So there I was...and I thought about my rather sadly comic life, and I thought that just the shit about Monster alone could give me 10 seasons of a sitcom, you know? She's a lot like that horny landlady from 3rd Rock from the Sun. Dresses like her too. Even Z says so. Anyhow, then I remembered that there revelation I had a few weeks ago.
Z and I have become Al & Peg Bundy, kinda. (Ok, I'll wait for Cat to pick herself off the floor and stop laughing) We are an upscale version of the Bundy's.
Now I don't dress like that or have that big of hair OR eat bonbons all day and I love to cook. I'm a GOOD COOK, Y'all! Z dresses better too, because, DUH, I wouldn't let him dress like that and he doesn't sell shoes. Don't I WISH? haha. (And Ari doesn't dress like a slut) Anyhoooo, there are a few similarities though. Like Al's reaction when Peg wants sex. Yeah. Painfully familliar that. And when Peg wants to go somewhere or do something. Uh-huh. Ouchy. Z sits in front of the TV zoned after work just like Al. But for the hand down the pants, it's kinda eerie.
Y'all may be wondering what triggered this relization. I mean, who would want to admit (albeit sadly) that they've become like that? Other than me, that is.
Well, we were flipping through cable tv and, for lack of anything better, came across an episode of Married With Children halfway through the episode. Right when Peg was trying to hint for a little nookie from that Al basssard. Z said to me "Hey Peg!!!" and I said "Yes AL?" which made him stop laughing at calling me Peg cause he got a good look at Al.
heh. I do what I can. It didn't make my realization that he had pretty much hit the nail on the head any easier to stomach,though. It hit me with the force of a sledgehammer and decidely startling. And all that?
Is TERRIFYING.
I had a rather frightening revelation of sorts recently that I didn't have time to blog about, although I meant to. I've just been so busy and all... I remembered it, even more frighteningly in the shower a little while ago. I just have to share it, terrifiying as it is.
Yes, I was in the shower, letting my mind wander as I sudsed up my hairas I often do. I get some of the best blog ideas there, where I can't do godddamn thing about it. But I digress.
So there I was...and I thought about my rather sadly comic life, and I thought that just the shit about Monster alone could give me 10 seasons of a sitcom, you know? She's a lot like that horny landlady from 3rd Rock from the Sun. Dresses like her too. Even Z says so. Anyhow, then I remembered that there revelation I had a few weeks ago.
Z and I have become Al & Peg Bundy, kinda. (Ok, I'll wait for Cat to pick herself off the floor and stop laughing) We are an upscale version of the Bundy's.
Now I don't dress like that or have that big of hair OR eat bonbons all day and I love to cook. I'm a GOOD COOK, Y'all! Z dresses better too, because, DUH, I wouldn't let him dress like that and he doesn't sell shoes. Don't I WISH? haha. (And Ari doesn't dress like a slut) Anyhoooo, there are a few similarities though. Like Al's reaction when Peg wants sex. Yeah. Painfully familliar that. And when Peg wants to go somewhere or do something. Uh-huh. Ouchy. Z sits in front of the TV zoned after work just like Al. But for the hand down the pants, it's kinda eerie.
Y'all may be wondering what triggered this relization. I mean, who would want to admit (albeit sadly) that they've become like that? Other than me, that is.
Well, we were flipping through cable tv and, for lack of anything better, came across an episode of Married With Children halfway through the episode. Right when Peg was trying to hint for a little nookie from that Al basssard. Z said to me "Hey Peg!!!" and I said "Yes AL?" which made him stop laughing at calling me Peg cause he got a good look at Al.
heh. I do what I can. It didn't make my realization that he had pretty much hit the nail on the head any easier to stomach,though. It hit me with the force of a sledgehammer and decidely startling. And all that?
Is TERRIFYING.
The Pirate Wench
Yo ho ho and a bottle (or two) of rum!
Aye aye me hearties! ScarlettCyn the Pirate Wench at your service.
Well, I'm a pirate wench as a result of the quanity and quality of rum I consumed last night. At least I think I qualify as one. Sure feels like it, that's for sure!
I love rum. Almost as much as I love Amaretto di Sarenno. So imagine how happy I was to go to my friend Katie's BBQ last night and see the hard liquor on the table with not just Bacardi BUT Malibu... and a bartender of sorts behind it all! (What? It had been a very rough week, and I was feelin a little sinus-ey)
Yes, I was officially, completely and totally SHITFACED DRUNK OFF MY ASS for the first time in my life.. And I didn't even intend it to happen that way (or so fast). Allow me to explain.
I woke up yesterday with a mild fever and some aches and pains and a runny& congested nose. I felt like utter hell. My boss wanted to send me home, but I refused. SO he compromised by letting me leave somewhat on time.(4:45) By then I was slightly better, went home, changed, got Z and Ari and drove back into town to Katie's place. Up onto the roof we went to the pool area. (she lives in a fancy schmancy apt bldg). What was the nicest part of the evening is that when Katie saw me coming up the steps, she hopped up from where she was sitting, SQUEALED and literally RAN AT TOP SPEED to me and gave me the biggest hug I've had in AGES. About 25 people stared at our little spectacle. But Lord above, did I feel so loved by that greeting. I don't know that I've ever had such a greeting excecpt by Arianna when she was younger (or now when it's time to pay allowance).
She had caterers there and there was a BARTENDER making really simple drinks. (Screwdriver, champagne, wine, hard liquor on ice, etc..). I got happy seeing the Bacardi and also a bottle of Malibu. (because Im really fond of Rum) So, since everywhere else I've gone no one bothered to have rum, I. got. happy. I figured I would start easy and get a wussy drink like Rum and Coke.
BIIIG mistake.
See, it was pretty dark, and I couldn't see very well. So I had no idea how strong it was. But it was tasty, and I polished it off after a time. I couldn't see that said rum and coke was about the color of weak iced tea. Uh-huh. By halfway through the second one, I figured I was pretty spacy, then I rememberd I hadn't eaten ANYTHING since the night before and it was now around 7:30pm. Katie kept it coming and by the end of the 3rd one, I was honest enough to admit I was well and truly wasted. She asked me in front of the smiling bartender "another one? Let me get you another one! To which I said "I think I'd better wait for the food, then maybe later" to which the GRINNING bartender looked at me coquettishly and said "But I have another TRIPLE right here waiting for you!".
Shit. He's been feeding me TRIPLES in HIGHBALL GLASSES on an empty stomach? OH MY GOD. Lets put it this way. I had to go to the ladies room and Ari helped me navigate down two sets of stairs during which time I kept thinking "Maaan am I wasted! Wheeee!" and frankly, I have no recollection how much time I sat there with what I am quite sure was a lame expression on my face but she was hovering outside the door saying "mom?????" a few times. I finally went back. by the time I got back, it was just about time for food. I ate and began to feel a bit better... right about the time Katie, my darling Katie whipped out the bottle she had hidden for me of Amaretto.
Katie fixed me 4-5 fingers or so worth on-erm-with some ice, personally. And like I can turn down amaretto? Um, no.I didn't turn down the other 3 she gave me either come to think of it.
I discovered that I am well and truly entertaining when I am drunk and immensly funny too. I think I was doing impromtu stand up in the middle of everyone.
Halfway through the rum and coke's earlier, I found a lovely older scottish gentleman and we were chatting. Actually, I would have talked about just about anything just to keep hearing that accent. Later, his 20 something son and I were chit chatting. (when I was drunk off my ass).
I was beyond tipsy.
I vaguely can recall buts and pieces of the drive home. I do remember stripping and diving under the covers, but not much after that.
I woke up pretty clear headded today, surprisingly.
Who was the sucker that asked me a few Inquisitions ago if I'd ever been drunk? Well, now you know. I turn into a comedian and performer.
Aren't you devestated you missed seeing it?
Yo ho ho and a bottle (or two) of rum!
Aye aye me hearties! ScarlettCyn the Pirate Wench at your service.
Well, I'm a pirate wench as a result of the quanity and quality of rum I consumed last night. At least I think I qualify as one. Sure feels like it, that's for sure!
I love rum. Almost as much as I love Amaretto di Sarenno. So imagine how happy I was to go to my friend Katie's BBQ last night and see the hard liquor on the table with not just Bacardi BUT Malibu... and a bartender of sorts behind it all! (What? It had been a very rough week, and I was feelin a little sinus-ey)
Yes, I was officially, completely and totally SHITFACED DRUNK OFF MY ASS for the first time in my life.. And I didn't even intend it to happen that way (or so fast). Allow me to explain.
I woke up yesterday with a mild fever and some aches and pains and a runny& congested nose. I felt like utter hell. My boss wanted to send me home, but I refused. SO he compromised by letting me leave somewhat on time.(4:45) By then I was slightly better, went home, changed, got Z and Ari and drove back into town to Katie's place. Up onto the roof we went to the pool area. (she lives in a fancy schmancy apt bldg). What was the nicest part of the evening is that when Katie saw me coming up the steps, she hopped up from where she was sitting, SQUEALED and literally RAN AT TOP SPEED to me and gave me the biggest hug I've had in AGES. About 25 people stared at our little spectacle. But Lord above, did I feel so loved by that greeting. I don't know that I've ever had such a greeting excecpt by Arianna when she was younger (or now when it's time to pay allowance).
She had caterers there and there was a BARTENDER making really simple drinks. (Screwdriver, champagne, wine, hard liquor on ice, etc..). I got happy seeing the Bacardi and also a bottle of Malibu. (because Im really fond of Rum) So, since everywhere else I've gone no one bothered to have rum, I. got. happy. I figured I would start easy and get a wussy drink like Rum and Coke.
BIIIG mistake.
See, it was pretty dark, and I couldn't see very well. So I had no idea how strong it was. But it was tasty, and I polished it off after a time. I couldn't see that said rum and coke was about the color of weak iced tea. Uh-huh. By halfway through the second one, I figured I was pretty spacy, then I rememberd I hadn't eaten ANYTHING since the night before and it was now around 7:30pm. Katie kept it coming and by the end of the 3rd one, I was honest enough to admit I was well and truly wasted. She asked me in front of the smiling bartender "another one? Let me get you another one! To which I said "I think I'd better wait for the food, then maybe later" to which the GRINNING bartender looked at me coquettishly and said "But I have another TRIPLE right here waiting for you!".
Shit. He's been feeding me TRIPLES in HIGHBALL GLASSES on an empty stomach? OH MY GOD. Lets put it this way. I had to go to the ladies room and Ari helped me navigate down two sets of stairs during which time I kept thinking "Maaan am I wasted! Wheeee!" and frankly, I have no recollection how much time I sat there with what I am quite sure was a lame expression on my face but she was hovering outside the door saying "mom?????" a few times. I finally went back. by the time I got back, it was just about time for food. I ate and began to feel a bit better... right about the time Katie, my darling Katie whipped out the bottle she had hidden for me of Amaretto.
Katie fixed me 4-5 fingers or so worth on-erm-with some ice, personally. And like I can turn down amaretto? Um, no.I didn't turn down the other 3 she gave me either come to think of it.
I discovered that I am well and truly entertaining when I am drunk and immensly funny too. I think I was doing impromtu stand up in the middle of everyone.
Halfway through the rum and coke's earlier, I found a lovely older scottish gentleman and we were chatting. Actually, I would have talked about just about anything just to keep hearing that accent. Later, his 20 something son and I were chit chatting. (when I was drunk off my ass).
I was beyond tipsy.
I vaguely can recall buts and pieces of the drive home. I do remember stripping and diving under the covers, but not much after that.
I woke up pretty clear headded today, surprisingly.
Who was the sucker that asked me a few Inquisitions ago if I'd ever been drunk? Well, now you know. I turn into a comedian and performer.
Aren't you devestated you missed seeing it?
3/08/2005
Wish You Were Here!
I've got some really fun and cool co-workers, y'all.
There is this really pretty and very serious and straight (or so I thought) girl I work with. She is always so very reserved and professional almost to the point of being a wee bit snooty.
Well, let me tell you I soon took care of that!
Yesterday she was standing in front of my desk and I don't remember exactly what it was we were talking about, but I said something a wee bit outrageous as usual and her eyes got the size of saucers and she cracked up and ended up laughing long, loud, and hard (2 of my favorite things!*wink*) hanging over the counter in front of me eventually wiping a bit of moisture from her eyes. I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction to have made her laugh like that.
Apparently it was just the icebreaker she needed.
Case in point today. She called me about something or other and I answered her question. Then I asked if her supervisor was there with her, because I had been looking for him to give him a message. She said yes and so I asked to talk to him. This was my reply:
"Yes, he's here, but he's in the middle of showing his thing......erm..... GASP!!!!!!!!" followed by a big ole GUFFAW from her which made me completely lose the composure I was barely hanging onto by a thread from the minute she said "he's in the middle of showing his thing....". At least I was not alone doing laps in the gutter, mind to mind.
La la la la la. See? Don't y'all wish you were working with me? One schmuck heard me talking to my boss, the CEO of the bank on the phone, and, well, I talk to him the same way I would talk to you, basically because he likes me just the way I am, which is professional and blah blah in front of guests, etc.. but, well, Real with a capital R with him. So, this fella was watching me all goggle eyed talking on the phone to him and when I hung up he said " Aren't you afraid of him?" and I was immediately completely confused as to just what the fuck he was talking about, so I replied with what I am sure was one of the most truly befuddled looks you've ever seen on my face "Scared of who?" and he said "Your boss. How straighforward you speak with him" I said "Why on Earth would I be scared of him?"
My poor boss. He is SO not the kind of boss to be terrified of the whole day long. True, I wouldn't want him pissed or anything, but still!
So, every now and then I have a real good chuckle, even if it is ME cracking myself up.
Wish you were here! Truly.
I've got some really fun and cool co-workers, y'all.
There is this really pretty and very serious and straight (or so I thought) girl I work with. She is always so very reserved and professional almost to the point of being a wee bit snooty.
Well, let me tell you I soon took care of that!
Yesterday she was standing in front of my desk and I don't remember exactly what it was we were talking about, but I said something a wee bit outrageous as usual and her eyes got the size of saucers and she cracked up and ended up laughing long, loud, and hard (2 of my favorite things!*wink*) hanging over the counter in front of me eventually wiping a bit of moisture from her eyes. I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction to have made her laugh like that.
Apparently it was just the icebreaker she needed.
Case in point today. She called me about something or other and I answered her question. Then I asked if her supervisor was there with her, because I had been looking for him to give him a message. She said yes and so I asked to talk to him. This was my reply:
"Yes, he's here, but he's in the middle of showing his thing......erm..... GASP!!!!!!!!" followed by a big ole GUFFAW from her which made me completely lose the composure I was barely hanging onto by a thread from the minute she said "he's in the middle of showing his thing....". At least I was not alone doing laps in the gutter, mind to mind.
La la la la la. See? Don't y'all wish you were working with me? One schmuck heard me talking to my boss, the CEO of the bank on the phone, and, well, I talk to him the same way I would talk to you, basically because he likes me just the way I am, which is professional and blah blah in front of guests, etc.. but, well, Real with a capital R with him. So, this fella was watching me all goggle eyed talking on the phone to him and when I hung up he said " Aren't you afraid of him?" and I was immediately completely confused as to just what the fuck he was talking about, so I replied with what I am sure was one of the most truly befuddled looks you've ever seen on my face "Scared of who?" and he said "Your boss. How straighforward you speak with him" I said "Why on Earth would I be scared of him?"
My poor boss. He is SO not the kind of boss to be terrified of the whole day long. True, I wouldn't want him pissed or anything, but still!
So, every now and then I have a real good chuckle, even if it is ME cracking myself up.
Wish you were here! Truly.
3/06/2005
Off My Chest- Finally.
It really is an apt title for this post, I promise. Because I really must get this off my chest once and for all. 'Cross Your Heart' my sweet ass.
I. Hate. Bras.
They are a necessary evil. If I could? I would go without one more often than not. But unfortunately? That is just a long denied fantasy. That and my other fantasy of wearing strapless, or spaghetti strap, or a one-shoulder top. Or even a halter top for that matter.
I think the last time I wore a halter top was in 3rd grade. Right about the time these suckers came in.
Mind you, they didn't come in THIS big right away, but big enough, dammit. (Thanks for that little bit of DNA, Nana. I look just like you did, which is fine by me, but did I HAVE to get the bosom too? *wail*)
Some of you may be wondering what brought on my rant at bras all of a sudden. Well, it isn't so all of a sudden so much as it is my voicing of my irritation.
What brought all this on is the pain. Today I'm having a bit of a hard time moving my left arm even the slightest little bit and it's grating on my last nerve. Well, that and while talking with one of my best friends about ripping around in the morning in your under things trying to get ready for work, I realize that I realize I neglected to mention that I usually wait till the last minute to put it on and really can't wait to get my gorgeous bras off.
Because they really are special, my bras. I make sure that I wear the prettiest bras I can find in a G cup, believe me! But even so, the pleasure I get from feeling the pretty things and seeing them against my skin does nothing whatsoever against the pain I incur that is really beginning to get to me. Ok. It has gotten to me. Period. For example, ever since last summer, I have been having the most mind numbing (but not numb enough, unfortunately) blinding pain that shoots from my left shoulder, up my neck and into my head with just about any movement at all and makes even ME gasp out loud with it. Me. The woman with the high pain threshold. The pain is so bad it feels like it is deep in my bone radiating through the muscle. I think I've got a pinched nerve or something.
If anyone touches my left shoulder (Which for some reason? EVERYONE seems to want to greet me with a smack to my left shoulder. WHY IN THE HELL IS THAT?) This presents another small problem. I like to sleep on my side, when I'm not sleeping semi-face down. My LEFT side in particular. That is pretty much impossible now. I just know my left boob is the cause of all the pain. Pain that feels like some damn Viking Berserker has just swung a sword into you and left the *$#^&&*% thing there. Pain killers and/or muscle relaxers don't work. I know what would help me.
A slight breast reduction and a lift.
Now before the men that read my blog start sobbing uncontrollably (and you know who you are. Don't make me name names, hmmm?) I'm not talking about drastic loss of mass here. But I would like to have something semi normal. Of course, to me, normal is a D cup. Hahaha.
I'm serious. Don't believe me?
Once upon a time when I was stuck in the exam room with a sleeping baby Arianna, I became bored out of my mind… which is when my curiosity got the better of me…. So I plopped first one, then the other on the baby weighing scale. Imagine my surprise (and the expletive muttered quietly under my breath) to discover that each one weighed around 12.5lbs. You do the math, because it frankly makes me look down at myself in wonder.
Anyway, that was then, and the suckers were slightly smaller-slightly- and that was 24lbs I was supporting on MY SHOULDERS. It's kind of like having a fat toddler sitting on your chest and hanging on by the shoulders all the time. I figure it's probably closer to 26 or so now.
So. My Good Samaritan deed for the month is this: if you have smaller breasts. If you have average sized breasts and have always wanted to have implants. I BEG you… don't do it sistah. Just say no, like the Nike commercial. I also have one itsy comment.
Are you out of your damn mind? They're more hassle than they are worth.
Cheryl b. Stop sobbing now. They aren't going anywhere for the time being.
I think I'll sign out now and go scrounge up a nice strong pain pill, pray for a little relief and go pass out in my bed.
Good night. *whimper*
PS: Get a question in y'all. I have a Inquisition/Confession post almost ready for posting. You've got 24 hours…… GO!
It really is an apt title for this post, I promise. Because I really must get this off my chest once and for all. 'Cross Your Heart' my sweet ass.
I. Hate. Bras.
They are a necessary evil. If I could? I would go without one more often than not. But unfortunately? That is just a long denied fantasy. That and my other fantasy of wearing strapless, or spaghetti strap, or a one-shoulder top. Or even a halter top for that matter.
I think the last time I wore a halter top was in 3rd grade. Right about the time these suckers came in.
Mind you, they didn't come in THIS big right away, but big enough, dammit. (Thanks for that little bit of DNA, Nana. I look just like you did, which is fine by me, but did I HAVE to get the bosom too? *wail*)
Some of you may be wondering what brought on my rant at bras all of a sudden. Well, it isn't so all of a sudden so much as it is my voicing of my irritation.
What brought all this on is the pain. Today I'm having a bit of a hard time moving my left arm even the slightest little bit and it's grating on my last nerve. Well, that and while talking with one of my best friends about ripping around in the morning in your under things trying to get ready for work, I realize that I realize I neglected to mention that I usually wait till the last minute to put it on and really can't wait to get my gorgeous bras off.
Because they really are special, my bras. I make sure that I wear the prettiest bras I can find in a G cup, believe me! But even so, the pleasure I get from feeling the pretty things and seeing them against my skin does nothing whatsoever against the pain I incur that is really beginning to get to me. Ok. It has gotten to me. Period. For example, ever since last summer, I have been having the most mind numbing (but not numb enough, unfortunately) blinding pain that shoots from my left shoulder, up my neck and into my head with just about any movement at all and makes even ME gasp out loud with it. Me. The woman with the high pain threshold. The pain is so bad it feels like it is deep in my bone radiating through the muscle. I think I've got a pinched nerve or something.
If anyone touches my left shoulder (Which for some reason? EVERYONE seems to want to greet me with a smack to my left shoulder. WHY IN THE HELL IS THAT?) This presents another small problem. I like to sleep on my side, when I'm not sleeping semi-face down. My LEFT side in particular. That is pretty much impossible now. I just know my left boob is the cause of all the pain. Pain that feels like some damn Viking Berserker has just swung a sword into you and left the *$#^&&*% thing there. Pain killers and/or muscle relaxers don't work. I know what would help me.
A slight breast reduction and a lift.
Now before the men that read my blog start sobbing uncontrollably (and you know who you are. Don't make me name names, hmmm?) I'm not talking about drastic loss of mass here. But I would like to have something semi normal. Of course, to me, normal is a D cup. Hahaha.
I'm serious. Don't believe me?
Once upon a time when I was stuck in the exam room with a sleeping baby Arianna, I became bored out of my mind… which is when my curiosity got the better of me…. So I plopped first one, then the other on the baby weighing scale. Imagine my surprise (and the expletive muttered quietly under my breath) to discover that each one weighed around 12.5lbs. You do the math, because it frankly makes me look down at myself in wonder.
Anyway, that was then, and the suckers were slightly smaller-slightly- and that was 24lbs I was supporting on MY SHOULDERS. It's kind of like having a fat toddler sitting on your chest and hanging on by the shoulders all the time. I figure it's probably closer to 26 or so now.
So. My Good Samaritan deed for the month is this: if you have smaller breasts. If you have average sized breasts and have always wanted to have implants. I BEG you… don't do it sistah. Just say no, like the Nike commercial. I also have one itsy comment.
Are you out of your damn mind? They're more hassle than they are worth.
Cheryl b. Stop sobbing now. They aren't going anywhere for the time being.
I think I'll sign out now and go scrounge up a nice strong pain pill, pray for a little relief and go pass out in my bed.
Good night. *whimper*
PS: Get a question in y'all. I have a Inquisition/Confession post almost ready for posting. You've got 24 hours…… GO!
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