I kind of want to go drinking with the bus driver.

When I'm bored I like to make up stories about the strangers around me and when you ride the bus for an hour and eight minutes twice a day you have plenty of time to work on hobbies.

Here are the true facts about my favorite GTA bus driver, reasons why she's my favorite really:

1. She drives the bus like I drive the Jetta. She's got places to go and people to see and she has no issues sticking her head out the window to yell at you if you're being a dumbass and pulled too far forward over the white stop line.

2. When she pulls into the terminal and opens the doors to let you out she yells 'Deuces!' No lie.

3. She totally shooed this guy off the bus because he was taking his sweet time.

Based on these facts this is the following dossier and story I decided today was her 'story'.

Her name is Jackie Velazquez because she married a Mexican PIMP; she does the slapping around in that house. She hurries her bus route up because every trip she makes she secretly is trying to beat her best time of 42:42 that she made on April 17th of last year. (Today she skipped two stops and didn't really come to a complete stop for me to get on the bus. )

She has 3 kids that whine and bug her unmercifully when she gets home to play. Which she does until Eduardo gets dinner done. They all eat together; it's important to spend quality family time. Then she sends them off to bed so she can tie up Eduardo because he's really a sick-o and is into that shit. But she figures it's a good way to get out some aggression.

Sometimes she just ties Eduardo up so she can go for a run. She wishes she could run her bus route because she wants to know how long it would take. But he usually is doubly excited when she gets back. Once or twice she forgot and left him tied up and naked overnight in the kitchen. This created an awkward scene at breakfast the next morning. Her children have since learned to not ask questions and often snicker behind Eduardo's back.

She secretly plans to go for a run one cool evening and just keep running. Her college boyfriend was from Jamaica and he begged her to move back with him a couple of years ago. She had just found out she was pregnant with Eduardo Jr., and it would been confusing for everyone involved. But she yearns for the pull of the Atlantic on her skin and the glare of the sun against the sea in her eyes and the sharp stings of the sand as she's tossed about in the surf. It wouldn't hurt if there a was a certain Jamaican man waiting for her on the beach with a Pina Colada. She normally drinks the hard stuff but with the right change in latitude she figures you'll need a change in attitude. She's not a Jimmy Buffet fan but that line has always rung true with her.

But then she would have to leave her twins. Whom she loves more than their brother. When she looks at them she realizes that maybe she can stay in this piddly town, driving a bus for a little while longer. Besides the children have to be bathed and Eduardo is already got his dander up because she's got her hair up.

Maybe she'll have an after dinner cocktail first. Maybe a pina colada.

So she makes her drink and walks out to her deck and closes her eyes and feels the breeze skip across her face cooling the heat from the setting sun and hears the neighbor yelling for his wife and for a moment, just one measly moment she's transferred to another place. She sees him and realizes he still beckons to her. But then she realizes that's just the zany neighbor.

He's set his deck on fire somehow and he's yelling for his wife to come and help.

I've got a crick in my neck and it's not because I slept on it funny.

Apparently I now get carsick, or bus-sick, when I read on the bus so I thought I would take the time to reminisce about my first blind date.

I realized that I hadn't updated you all on the online dating front, but to be honest there hasn't been much activity there.

Be warned. This may be a little racy. . .

So think back to what you were doing a little over a year ago. It was a pretty dark time for me, especially if I was agreeing to go on a blind date. For serious, I may be looking for Mr. Right but let's be honest, I'll most likely find him clinging to the same bar for support as I am. Going out with a random stranger. . . Not so much.

I wasn't even nervous. Although that doesn't say much. I only get nervous for the pretty ones. And he wanted to go to Applebee's. For serious.

Moving right along, I cannot remember who I knew that cooked up this brilliant scheme but in the idea of moving forward I agreed to it. A Friday night. At Applebee's. Seriously, my joy cannot be contained.

Thankfully I've got one of those 'friends' that you can call when you really need a big, big favor. Or when you're just bored and need a little entertainment. Actually at that time I think I had several.

What?

I told you it was racy. Lewd really.

Anyways I was bored and it was a Thursday night and I was alone and bored and alone. Alone being the operative word. I didn't feel like being alone so I called up my friend and asked him to come over and bring a couple of beers and we'd hang out and get the business done.

In retrospect I realize that maybe I wasn't thinking too clearly but I've never been known for my brilliant decision making skills in a pinch.

The next morning we're off to breakfast and he looks at my neck and Bingo. I'm officially a tainted woman. And I don't care how much you say it looks like a rash people know it isn't. Whatever. He goes to work and I take my hair down and pray it's long enough to cover it. I spent the day at work with my lab coat on with the collar popped. Thank God the microscope room is cold and I had an excuse.

The great thing about best friends is that they aren't allowed to judge you. They are allowed to meet you at the Walgreen's to help you pick out the right shade of concealer however. Which to her credit she did and it was Brilliant! So off to Applebee's I go.

Thankfully when I straighten my hair it is indeed just long enough. I don't think he noticed. What he did notice however was my constant grimace. I didn't realize that my neck hurt as much as it did and I kept rubbing the damn thing because I was too busy running my mouth and trying to think of the next thing to say so I wouldn't have to hear a grown man talk about his new VW Beetle. Yes. You read correctly. He bought the one car marketed to 16 year old girls.And it was two toned. Yes, two toned. The hood, roof and trunk were black and the rest of it was burgundy. Plus there was a body kit. It was pretty damn painful to look at.

We eventually had this exchange:

Him: Does your neck hurt?

Me: Yeah. It does. I didn't realize it was this bad.

I was hoping at this point to use it as an excuse to get out of this painful experience a little early minus a few more emotional scars.

Him: Well maybe you slept on it funny?

Me: No. I'm pretty sure that wasn't it.

Him: Oh. . . . oh. . . . . . . Oh. Well, Oh. Um.

Me: I guess we're through here right?

Apparently concealer will rub off when rubbed enough. It's only a short extrapolation from there. At least he was smart enough to get it.

It's not funny if I have to explain it.

It's totally Romper-ific!

Imagine that after you read the title there's a token picture of some cheesy game-show guy giving you the thumbs up and doing that hokey sideways grin. I would find one but I'm not sure how to google that.

So this little morsel of the delight has been stuck in my craw for a while now.

Apparently the "Romper" is back. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Are you kidding me?

Attention peoples of the world: The romper is not attractive. Nor is it functional. How do you pee in that thing? Oh that's right, you have to get completely freaking naked to do it. At least with wee-people's rompers they have the whole flap thing. I think that if as an adult you're going to commit to a romper you should at least invest in one with a crotch flap so when you pee at the bar you don't have to expose yourself in strange, unclean places. That cannot be sanitary.

Just so that we're clear. I have never been naked in a public restroom therefore I feel that I can indeed judge those who have.

It should be a sign that when you google the word romper and then go to images of rompers, there are 3 pages of adult sized rompers and 8 pages of children sized rompers. Maybe that's because they're cute on children???? Maaaayyyybbbeeee? The idea of adult fashion is so that you look like an adult, not like an adult moonlighting as a four year old. That invites all sorts of dirty, dirty old men and their lecherous stares and no one finds that fun. Except girls in rompers. Obviously.

Rompers are beach wear and wearing them in public, public that isn't the beach, doesn't make you avant-garde. It makes you tacky. Obviously tacky. You don't see people ice-skating down 4th street in the summer. That is because there is a time and place for certain articles of clothing; there is a reason why you don't wear your couture gown to play softball.

Besides, do you really want to own anything that has it's own section in the American Apparel catalog?



Didn't think so.

Emotional Paralysis and Moral Culpability.

So last night was the season premiere of the 4th season (I think?) of Mad Men which is quite possibly the best show on television right now. Excepting True Blood, but only because the men on True Blood tend to frolic through the show sans clothing. And we all know how I feel about that.

But it got me to thinking. . .

Here is a man, granted a beautiful man, who is repeatedly unfaithful to his wife and generally an asshole and yet he comes on the screen and I swoon. Now as much as I would like to think this is totally because Jon Hamm as Don Draper is dreamy in that stereotypical patriarch kind of way I think on a certain level I'm attracted to his character's moral culpability. For serious, he's an asshole. He slept with his kid's teacher whom he wooed at an eclipse. First of all, how in the world do you woo someone at an eclipse? That ability is mind numbingly brilliant to begin with and secondly:

When is the next eclipse? I wasn't aware they were events to pick up men at.

For the most part I really do blame his wife and his past for his lack of good moral standing. Betty is a frigid bitch. I couldn't get it up for her either. She may be a bombshell but she's got the emotional complexity of a grapefruit and is unfortunately just as sour. That one Valentine's day episode where she's all dolled up and they go to the hotel to get it on and Betty is just laying there like a tepid fish and Don can't get it up. . . Well no freaking wonder! Granted I'm sure you'll argue that by that point Betty had had enough and was already checking out but the woman is creepy. Remember that relationship she had with that kid? WTF Betty? And she's all evil to Sally. And completely ignores poor Bobby. SPOILER ALERT: And then she runs off with Henry and the baby to live in Nevada for a month and just leaves the kids with Carla! Granted Carla is the only one in that household that has any sense at all but still, leaving your kids with the nanny? For a month? I'm sure Carla has her own family to take care of. Geez. END. Betty is for serious a prime example of emotional paralysis. Example, see "The Dead", James Joyce. There's another crazy bia. Geez oh pete, I can pine for someone but she really takes the cake.

So maybe I'm just attracted to Don because he has actual emotions and acts on them. Compulsively. Which may or may not be a healthy thing to do but at least he's not emotionally dead. SPOILER ALERT: Although I will give Betty some credit with Henry, at least there she seems to be trying. New nightgown and all. END. To some extent his moral ambiguity is also evidence of his vulnerability which is also a big thing for me. Seeing as how I have that whole "I'm-so-screwed-up-I-can't-distinguish-between-you-loving-me-and-you-needing-me" complex happening. For serious, I'm kind of a mess.

I think on some level I can identify with the characters who are capable of gross moral turpitude. Because on some level I too am capable and why the hell not? I of all people should be careening down the slippery slope because let's face it, I'm emotionally unstable and have a questionable background. The whole parental mess and all. And my whole commitment/relationship mess and all.

You'd think it would be the opposite. I should be attracted to those characters who are emotionally dead because the Good Lord knows I could use some folks that are emotionally dead in my life. Or at least stable. I'm assuming that dead = not flip-flopping back and forth hence stability ensues. There's not a whole lot of emotional steadfastness in my immediate circle ie the parental units.

But I guess that's also an issue. Shouldn't my immediate circle consist of people separate from my parents? That at 27 I should have a new immediate circle. Try as I might I don't think that's going to happen. At least not anytime soon.

Moxy on the Move - Harris Teeter / Snackie Reconnaissance

Sundays are a day of rest and snackies. And maybe some processed chicken products thrown in for good measure. Moxy traveled with JRR and I on our pursuit of the snackies.

Moxy on the disabled person's cart.

Apparently Moxy is lazy and would like to stroll around the grocery store in the motorized shopping cart. Unfortunately she is too short to steer it and I was not about to look like a fool riding around the Harris Teeter with an Uglydoll in my lap who is not disabled or morbidly obese. You seriously have to draw the line somewhere.

Moxy is a part of your nutritious breakfast?

While trying to figure out what cereal Moxy would probably be if she were a cereal the answer became blatantly obvious. And no it's not the Kashi or the Corn Flakes. She is definitely not sweet like honey nor is she shredded. Cooky? Yes. Loco? Yes. Rocks in her brain? Maybe.

Uglydolls can be found in your local grocer's freezer section.

Who knew? Between the tater tots (Yum!) and pierogis (I have no real evaluation about pierogis. Apparently they're brilliant?) you can find frozen Uglydolls!

Actually Moxy figured out that she does not enjoy being cold or having her antennae smushed. It's really awkward getting into with a doll in the middle of the grocery store for having shoved her in the freezer. You gets lots and lots of odd looks. . .

Oh well. We survived and everyone is the better for it. Snackies were obtained and everyone was happy happy happy.

See you next time!

Would you like some percocet with that whine?

So today is obviously going to suck royally. I had the craziest damn dream. I had a dream that both of my cousin's died within a week of each other and I had to skip my friend's wedding to go to the older one's funeral. And then the husband of my dear friend wanted to buy the older cousin's dirt-bike. The one he died on, and I somehow was wrangled into being the one to sell it.

This is why I don't take B-complex vitamins. For serious.

Then my mother calls at 6:45 AM because she's EVIL and I wake up hit the ignore button and go back to sleep to be pelted with the images and thoughts of my family dying and being double booked again at two different engagements. I suppose you could point out that the major sources of stress in this dream that I had twice are as follows:

Grief and Anxiety.

If that doesn't follow my real life then I'm not sure what does.

For example, I get it together and walk to the bus station to catch the bus to Greensboro and voila guess what? It's out of service. Oh look! A source of anxiety.

And here's a source of grief. . .although it's arguable for who it is for. . .

Apparently you need to look the part to hang out at the bus station and I just don't look it. Because while waiting for the in service PART bus to come guess what? Yes. Some guy approaches me and we have the following dialogue:

Him: Hey. How are you Miss Lady?

Me: I'm good and you?

Him: I'm Blessed today. . .I've never seen you around here. Where are you coming from?

Me: (I don't normally think before I open my mouth but I did this time and I think it will end up being very fortuitous.) Over there. (Pointing in a general west-ward direction.)

Him: Oh okay. You taking the bus? (Incredulously.)

Me: Yeah, I work in Greensboro.

Him: Do you know anything about any Percocets?

Me: No.

Him: Oxycontins?

Me: No.

Him: Okay. Well I was just making sure.

Several things to point out: First of all, he probably didn't realize he was incredulously asking if I rode the bus. He probably just didn't believe me. (I added that in for effect and I like to use at least two big words per post. Weird I know. ) Secondly, For Fuck's Sake! Do I look like I know about the drug trade? I mean I am wearing designer sunglasses but damn! i don't exactly exude a confidence about prescription drugs. Maybe it's because I'm white? What the hell? I mean damn! I volunteer at the homeless shelter so it's not like I don't know how to handle seedy folks and their seedy questions and even seedier innuendos that are sometimes not even really innuendo anymore, they just come out and say it. I've become rather good at deflecting. I'm just saying that riding the bus back and forth to work isn't going to be economical anymore if I have to support a drug habit to be able to ride the bus.

Whatever you do, don't tell my mom. She'll flip.

Moxy on the Move - A Newly Renovated Farmhouse

So this weekend Moxy ventured with me to a very dear friend's brandy-new farmhouse. Okay, she'd kill me for saying that because she and her wizard-house-building-husband spent a year of their life renovating said definitely-not-new-house to resemble a new house. Boy does it look amazing!

Lizzie and Moxy.

First things first. This is Lizzie. Lizzie is the protector of the household and also the handy dandy taquito catcher. She also has laser beams for eyes which are useful when bandits come knocking because she can chop off their legs with one easy swipe. Lizzie is a good dog.

Moxy with the twins.

I personally love this picture a lot. Moxy wasn't really enthused about having to sit in a fruit bowl in front of it. First of all she said that she doesn't resemble fruit in any way and I mentioned that it's probably real silver and she needs to shut up. Then she mumbled something about some set of twins and the Shining. ???

Moxy is a gambling uglydoll.

Who knew my uglydoll had a poker problem? This is the reason why I find her sitting in front of the computer screen at odd hours of the night. Online video poker. Geez oh pete. At least she can learn from a pro here at the farmhouse. Although, I wouldn't sit in on a game that Moxy dealt; She can't be an honest dealer. But maybe she is. I don't want you to think that I think negatively of her. I just know she has a problem.

Moxy and the Kitchen Decor.

First of all take a moment to notice the backsplash. For serious, how freaking awesome is that? Then there is the cobalt mixer, which would have totally gone in my pocket if I was wearing bigger pants, not to mention those canisters. Amazing! And the coup de grace? The pitcher of amazing yellow goodness behind Moxy! Homegirl can make some punch!

Hopefully for the remaining Sundays of the summer this is where you'll find me. (: Maybe Moxy too!

A conversation overheard between concerned parties.

The Brains of the Operation: Dude. What is going on? You've been screwing with this operation for days now. You think you could get over yourself and get the fuck over it?

Whom is lovingly referred to as the 'Crystal Cave': First of all, I'm not a dude. I'm female. Secondly, I'm lonely. And when I'm lonely I don't operate well. You're running this show, why don't you fucking fix it?

BotO: Whatever brah. I'm trying. But you keep mixing up all the signals that I'm sending you or sending me the wrong ones or whatever, you know what just screw it. Get it together and by all means get over yourself.

'Crystal': That's easy for you to say. There's two of you crammed in that one vessel you call a functioning unit. You literally can get into arguments with yourself, thus you're never lonely. Who am I going to argue with? The Wonder Twins?

The Wonder Twins: For what it is worth, oh Cavern of Supposed Shinyness, we hate you.

'Crystal': Yeesh. I know.

The Wonder Twins: Our job is essentially useless. We work hard for you and you just throw it out all. You essentially vomit our contributions out into the world as detritus. And you know Bob has that issue with the recurring cyst that they refuse to do anything about. Cut us some slack and quit your fucking whining and do something.

BotO: Right on, dudes.

Cleanup Crew: Can I just interject here? I'm really the only here in this body doing any work. I keep getting pummeled with toxic and noxious substances and have to work twice as hard as the rest of you to clean it all up and just as I get it clean. Guess what? She goes out an does it all over again.

BotO: Dude. Bro. Woah. Them's fighting words. Just chillax and get back to work. We're all banding together for a common purpose here. Everyone appreciates you. Especially Crystal over there, because she's never going to get any company unless you're in overtime working for the Man, or in this case, the Woman. She's needy and socially awkward, Crystal is. She only wants to make an appearance once she's tanked off a couple of bombs and willing to dance on the bar. And let's face it. Our goal is one and the same. We may have different opinions as to how it's done but Crystal really is running this show. Everyone thinks I am. I mean, I do give instructions and say things like 'Don't talk to him. He's an asshole. His ears are pierced.' but does it work? No. There is no logic when it comes to hormones. And to be honest you're responsible for some of that too. But enough with the small talk, I'm splitting in half and I'm not sure if it's you or the 'Crystal Cave' down there causing it but everyone needs to calm the fuck down and do their damn job. And I don't even want to hear from you two, Wonder Twins. We'll let you resume your duties once our objective is complete. Just keep her skin nice is all I ask. We'll never find her anybody if her skin looks like the surface of a volcanic planet. Keep those hormones coming. And for god sakes! Will the god-blessed Tylenol kick in? I'm dying in here!

'Crystal': Serves you right. At least you aren't all alone in your misery and pain. We need a nice boy. A nice boy would help us all out. Well except for the Cleaning Crew.

Cleaning Crew: Work on finding one that doesn't drink. I need a break.

Pride goeth before the fall.

Describing the yo-yoing of my emotional state isn't easy. Well actually it is. It resembles a yo-yo. That's why I used it to describe the trajectory of my emotions. Up and down and up and down and up.

I had an amazing weekend and I was pretty stoked the whole time. With only a few minor temper tantrums thrown in for the heck of it. And now comes the valley of the sine wave that is my emotional state. I'm happy then sad then blissful then. . .

dis-contented. It's not that I'm unhappy. (Now an excercise in self soothing psychoanalysis. Pinpointing how I feel. This is always a though one.) I have no real reason to be and it's not that I'm bored.

It's that it's night time and I'm alone in the bed. It's not that I hate the dark or being alone and God knows I hate being anything but alone in the bed. It's that I just want to be surrounded by people constantly. But not in the bed with me. If they could just be beside the bed in a nice sitting chair, that would do.

So I guess I do hate being alone. I obviously have intimacy issues and they're so deep seeded that I hate being alone with my ownself. Because when I'm hanging out with the people I heart I feel validated as a human person type being.

Without them my only company is the grey matter betwixt my ears and we know I'm judgemental. As harshly as I judge everyone around me I judge myself twice that; that makes hanging out with me difficult and painful at the very least. Depressing, excrutiating and soul-suckingly miserable when I'm really rolling.

Distractions. I need distractions. Distraction from my life. Which is actually pretty fucking amazing right now. I realized that today. This is probably the happiest I've been in a long time.

Which means that the next 20 years are going to reeeeeeally blow.

And now for something completely different.

Sometimes when I'm bored or when I'm sad and blue I go to the Muppets youtube.com channel and watch videos. (: Me wubbies the Muppets and they're super super funny.

Today I am going to share some of my favorite muppet videos.

1. Danny Boy



It's always a sell out crowd when everyone's three favorite Muppets show up. I personally am a HUGE fan of Beaker but I like Rolf and Gonzo a lot too.

2. Habanera



Okay so these may be my favorite Animal, Beaker and Swedish Chef videos.

3. Ringing of the Bells. - Just to put you in the Christmas spirit.



For serious, this one makes me cry from laughing so hard.

Enjoy!

Trial by Fire - Online Dating, Edition 3: I am not long winded, Am I?

Today I've finally decided to respond to the second email that Kaopectate, the man you, blog reader, decided I should wink at. I should thank you in advance. Not because we've hit it off and are blossoming into a beautiful couple. Nooooooo, because I have expanded my vocabulary.

This man goes on and on and on and on and on and on. Thus I feel compelled to respond with an equally long email so that I don't hurt his feelings. I'm not kidding. You thought I could ramble on?

REMEMBER THESE ARE ONLY MY OPINIONS AND BY NO MEANS AM I ASSUMING THAT HE IS LONG OF THE WIND OR TALKATIVE OR ANY OTHER DEROGATORY THING.

I've got nothing on Kao.


Here's some actual highlights of what I have written him (because I haven't consulted with my legal counsel if I can post what he wrote, I'll paraphrase what he wrote.) :

What made me wink back at you?
My friends harassing me about the fact that I had to wink at someone, and they picked you.
. . .
I was extremely hesitant to start the online personals and after much haranguing from my friends I joined.

This was in response to his query about why I winked at him and what made me join the online personals. For serious. I'm not kidding. See, I did manage to use harangue. I hardly ever use that one. Earlier in the email I used renege and fraudulent (in describing the fiasco with the account cancellation and all.) Vocabulary expansion, engaged. I actually had to look up how to spell those words. (I have problems with vowels, especially when they're strung together. Granted none of those words apply in this case because I can actually spell fraudulent but still. Silhouette. I have a problem with that word. )

Okay, listen up. This next part is actually what he said to me because I just couldn't let it go...I am passing no judgment on it and are merely posting it here to exemplify the interactions that I have on the online dating website. For serious, No judgment. You, however may form your own opinions.

.here are some more questions for you....since you say you're very busy....what's a typical day/week for you like...what keeps you so busy? What do you do for fun when you're not busy? When was your last relationship, and why didn't it work out?

Here is an opinion that you, blog reader, may have:

He thinks he is slick. Sliding in the "last relationship" question at the last minute. Whatever.

Yet, another opinion you might have in response to reading what he wrote, that the author of this blog has no opinion about:

He really is very inquisitive. I still wouldn't tell him anymore than you had to. Or anything really. This could end badly for you. You, Anna = blog author, are not long-winded enough to form a suitable and lasting relationship with this fellow.

Just one last opinion that the author of this blog is definitely not influencing your decision to make:

Creep-O-Zoid

Ennui, Je te deteste.

For those of you who have the pleasure of reading and understanding French, please pretend there is an accent over the first e in deteste. I'm not sure which accent it is, aigu or grave, and I'm too lazy to look it up. Also please do not yell at me for not using the formal form of "you" as I feel that my ennui is a close personal friend of mine and I'm trying to make a point by using the familiar form.

For those of you who do not read and understand French, I'm whining again.

I was going to devote an entire blog post about how much I hated my uterus and then decided to err on the side of caution. Don't ask me why? I guess because at this point my uterus is actually angry and I feel that if I speak unsavory words about it, it will just become angrier. But that is just too much information for you blog reader and I apologize over having involved you in this mess. Well it's not a mess so much, I mean I do have some personal grooming habits, oh God it just keeps getting worse.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to be base and gross and lewd. Sometimes I do, but then I find that it's funny; here it's just gross and

I really do apologize. I'm just in this super pitiful mood because,

You know because of why. I've surreptitiously told you.

I'm not sure how surreptitious it actually is because I know what it is I'm trying to tell you so I'm not sure that I'm an impartial judge as to the stealth with which I have lead you to the conclusion that I'm now regretting you know because you don't really need to know, but I feel that you do in a way because I'm suffering a slow and painful death,

Okay, so I'm not really dying but I kind of want to. Maybe I need some Prozac?

Back to my ennui and my hatred for it. I really hate being bored and it's not that I'm even really that bored. I've got things I need to do but all I really want to do is crawl under my desk and turn into a puddle and soak into the carpet so that no one knows I'm here and then they'll just think that I dumped my diet soda under my desk because let's face it if I was going to turn into a liquid it would be diet soda and then they'll turn back out of my office and I can just be content being a damp puddle under my own desk until I'm feeling a little better and can re-constitute myself back into a form that is suitable for human consumption. Not that I am encouraging cannibalism but consumption in that people want to interact with me because I'm not being a whiny, obdurate bi-atch of a non non-human primate.

I think it's stupid that they have to designate chimps and other higher-order primates as non-human. Because that's going to make people think twice before keep them as pets or install shunts in their brain for cocaine delivery. Whatever.

So if you happen by my office and see the light on and decide that you want to check on me because you've read my blog post and are concerned that I may be trying to violate several laws of physics and/or several, not laws necessarily but maybe municipal ordinances, and happen to peek into my office and find me face down in the floor in a soggy puddle it's alright,

I'm either sobbing or you've caught me in the middle of turning into a puddle of diet soda and it's awkward either way so just pull my blanket over me and turn out the light, close the door and it can be our little secret.

My latest gripe.

Because you know I've always got one, I am going to tell you about my latest gripe. I'll give you some time to get comfortable and mutter under your breath some snide remark about how I've always got some crisis going on. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Ahem.

I have been to spin class for 4 consecutive days this week. 4 days. That means I've riden close to 60 miles this week. Yesterday I made a puddle of sweat around the bike. For serious. It was kind of gross. (If I ever do snap and actually kill someone and after I've fled the country, because it's stupid to hang around after you've killed someone, they'll totally be able to get my DNA off that bike. Blegh.) Today I weighed myself and I HAVE GAINED SIX TENTHS OF A POUND. What the HELL IS THAT ABOUT?

And I swear the next person that looks at me and says "Muscle weighs more than fat," well, we're going to test that theory. I'm going to punch you in the face and then we can see how much muscle I've gained.

Obviously my body is stupid. Not only do I have an itching/sweating disease, an extra sex chromosome that we suspect may be a Y (which would explain my comittment issues and my ability to make people feel cheap and tawdry) and a worm in my head, MY METABOLISM HAS QUIT! I'm constantly hungry and granted I haven't been eating super great but I am sorry. You cannot exercise on 3 brussels sprouts that have thought about butter without actually coming into contact with it and an apple sauce cup. I've tried. I almost died.

Apparently I'm not working hard enough. I'm not exactly sure how, but maybe I need to run 43,000 miles after 45 minutes of spin to lose a few pounds. Or I could just quit eating.

Maybe I'll develop a drug habit.

I hear crackheads are pretty skinny. And I wouldn't mind losing my teeth as long as I could get fake ones. They make some really good replicas and they don't get cavities. Which will be beneficial once I have my crack habit good and running because crackheads also eat a lot of candy. Not that I like a lot of candy but I'm sure that will change once I'm jonesing for some crack, I'm sure that I'll take any candy that I come across. Or I could be like that girl in that Cheech & Chong movie and snort Ajax off the counter. Although that doesn't seem healthy?

Listen to me, I'm praising the weight-loss value of Crack and criticizing someone for snorting Ajax off of a counter. I should chastize myself.

But Hey, I'm not that crazy.

Moxy on the Move - Moxy Rides the Bus

So, in an attempt to ease the burden on my pocketbook and to save the earth, I have decided to take the bus for my daily commute to and from work. Yesterday was the first day of this adventure and I brought Moxy along for the ride.

Noooo. Not the light!

Moxy, while excited the night before, was not so excited the morning of. She may look bright-eyed and bushy tailed but that's because she has no eyelids and cannot close her eyes. You see that she is reaching to shield her eyes from the light? She is not a morning uglydoll.

Moxy sitting in her seat on the bus.

Moxy enjoyed the bus ride. She got a seat to herself and although we were both a smidgen leery about riding the bus no one harassed, harangued , or hassled us. They pretty much ignored us and our bus ride was without incident, which is nice - don't get me wrong, but you must understand that Moxy is a uglydoll with a lot of moxie. She was secretly hoping that some incident would occur where she could prove her worth. I was grateful this did not happen.

Moxy in the bag ready to go.

Because Moxy rode the bus with me she had to endure an entire day at work with me. By about 3:30 she was ready to go. I look over and she's not-so-patiently waiting in my bag; glaring at me. So off we went on our mile long jaunt back to the bus station and away on the bus we went. Nothing eventful happened on the return trip either and Moxy just slept so there was no use in taking another photo of her. All in all it was a successful MotM.

Come back this weekend to see where Moxy goes next!

Trial By Fire - Online Dating Edition, 2: Why it is REALLY hard to date online.

This post is really just to complain about the difficulties - the actual semantic difficulties - of online dating.

If you weren't already aware, I'm a criminal. I stole my own credit card information and used it fraudulently to buy a subscribtion to a popular online dating site; it rhymes with latch dot mom. Thus my account was cancelled and disabled for a few days. Go figure. They then determined, after much proding and insisting and demanding (I became progressively crankier and nastier via email because apparently they only give out their phone number once you've been dismembered on a date with the person they've connected you with.) they decided that it wasn't that I was a nasty, yet intelligent cyber-hacker-criminal type person but that it was a technical error in their system that caused the mis-assumption of my personality and qualifications. Harumph. (Lets hope that those aren't the computers analyzing my personality, otherwise we'll really be in for a few laughs.) They have re-instated my account and given me 15 or so days free. I'm skeptical at best. I was reluctant at first but I've chosen to adjust my opinion to just skeptical.

The first day or so of my account being disabled, I'll admit I was P-I-SSED. But then I became used to the idea of failing catastrophically at something yet again. It was easy to attribute my hesitancy in online dating, Hell even normal dating, to the fact that the world had judged me and found me wanting. Hence it kicked me out of the virtual dating world. It was serendipity that said 'No Anna. Avoid that hole. You'll fall and break something. Insert sappy joke about my heart winding up broken.' (Gag me.) But we've all met me once or twice. Not only do I listen poorly but I also pretty much ignore every sign thrown my way unless I am beaten over the head with it. Which goes along with listening poorly or rather I suppose that is an example of listening poorly, or how I listen poorly. I should have taken this for the sign that it was and ran away screaming from virtual dating.

It's easier to assume that I haven't heard back from any of the people that I want to chat/talk with because my account was disabled. Easier to assume that they were all clamoring to respond and their despair at finding my account no longer existing was great and all encompassing. Easier to assume that I'm probably not as funny and charismatic as I try to be, that I don't sound contrived.

I'm funny right?

Let's face facts, blog reader. I'm not going to put in the time and energy it requires to root through hundreds of profiles and read dozens and dozens, probably dozens of hundreds, of incorrectly spelled words. Cosumal = Cozumel. Hugh = huge. God = good. That last sentence whilst true, God is Good, is actually what someone wrote while meaning to say good. Maybe he was uber-Christian and trying to be cute and/or make a point and I just missed it? I think he was Catholic. . .

Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I'm questioning the worth and value of this whole online dating thing. I suppose I've questioned it from day one but now that they've screwed it up my confidence rate is at zero. I try to be funny and so far it's only worked on a Latino who has ethnic identity issues and a gentleman who labels himself as a 'salesman' when he really helps old people to their car at Costco.

You've got to start somewhere right?

A loss of the innocence of childhood holidays.

I used to like holidays. Loved them actually. I looked forward to them with the usual gusto of a child.

And then I turned 7.

I came to realize not that holidays are really only times when the consumer driven media push sales of products you don't need or want, which they are, but that holidays are times of decisions. I've always hated making decisions. Difficult decisions that divide already divided families. Which parent will I spend the holiday with?

To be honest, my father never really had a fair chance. My mother always had the unfair advantage of having a token seat at my grandmother's table. She always unabashedly played this card, and she always won with it. Thus faced with yet another loss in the game of 'Who does Anna Love more?' my father did what he does best, Making me feel insanely guilty.

So as an adult I've decided to take control. For Thanksgiving last year I cooked. I called my uncle and my aunt and reserved my gramma and demanded my father stay sober and play pretty. Then I got in such a horrid fight with my mother the day before that I informed her never to set foot in my house ever again lest she want to suffer the wrath of a tired, frustrated woman who spent 2 days and an inordinate amount of money cooking a meal that her whole family could enjoy. I didn't mention the purely selfish reason that I simply wanted to have at least one holiday in a calendar year when I didn't feel guilty for abandoning one parent or the other.

For what it's worth, it actually went pretty well. I took a nap later that day and slept the sleep of the dead.

So here is today, yet another holiday. For this occasion I decided that I would do the only other option that would work. I'd do the admirable thing and avoid them both. Hence now they're both pissed and I feel guilty all over again.

And they've both told me about it multiple multiple times. I think they're colluding with one another. They had a phone conference this morning in which they said:

"Anna is probably planning on having fun
today. We're bored so it's automatically her responsibility to entertain us. Let's call her and remind her. I'll get the even hours and you get the odd...That way she won't have even a minute's peace."

It's working.

The advantages of being a 'Big' girl and why you should always listen to your instincts.

I like to think that I am a calm, cool and collected person.

I'm not.

I knew at Tate's that I should have went on home while I was across the street. I was just across the street, and I didn't really need the pizza. I knew it.

If I only would have listened to my instinct. I wouldn't be blogging from the general access computer at the Forsyth County Detention Center...

I had a stupid day. Really stupid. I needed a cocktail around about 10:30 this morning. Day wears on. I write nasty mood poem. Gorge myself at lunch on cheetos. Get mad at cheetos company for all that wasted cheese product that gets stuck on your fingers. Day continues to wear on. Sometime about 3:42 PM I realize the futility of my life. I leave work. Argue with Dad. Argue some more with Dad. Mom joins the mix. Evening now wears on. You get the idea.

11:52 PM - JH and I go the the local brewery to see who we know. Apparently no one. One gin & tonic down the hatch.

12:35 AM - We travel to Tate's. G & T #2 ordered.

1:16 AM - Departure for local pizza joint.

1:22 AM - Drunk redneck chick enlightens us about the lack of ice in the soda machine.

1:23 AM - Drunk redneck chick urges me to feel her soda to prove the temperature of the fountain drinks. "Touch it," she says.

1:24 AM - I politely decline for the 4th time.

1:26 AM - Drunk redneck chick rattles the door handle to the restroom,

1:27 AM - The shit pops off.

To make a long story short, the girl in the bathroom did not appreciate having the door handle rattled along with being told to "Chillax. It's no big deal." She also does not appreciate having her face bashed in with a parmesan cheese shaker. Who knew?

I couldn't help it. She kept yanking on the bathroom door. Before I even had time to process that I was going to beat her ass I was already beating the dog-snot out of her. While California girls may be the ones that you wish they all could be, Southern girls can hand you an ass-whooping.

It's because we're raised on fatback and complex meat proteins, not that soy substitute shit. We can develop muscles. I may look fluffy but I'm actually rock-fucking-solid and if you want to find out then get in my face and delay my pizza posession. I will waste you. It's a matter of physics really. I can build up more momentum behind my punch; I can hurtle the cheese shaker towards you with constant velocity but because I have more mass, the momentum will be greater. Momentum = mass x velocity, ie your face will collapse. Conveniently in the opposite vector/direction at a rate equal (Assuming equal mass, the mass of your face is technically less than the mass of my fist and the cheese shaker + cheese so technically it will recede at a faster rate) to the velocity of with which your face was hit. So take your lame ass Hollister shirt and your fake-ass So-Cal attitude, not to mention those horrid madras shorts to the ER and pray that there is a good plastics guy on call.

And I bet that's the last time you'll fuck with a 'Big' girl.

A nasty mood poem.

Blah blah, snore.
Blah blah, snore snore.
Life, oh life, it is such a bore.

I hate my job.
My name is not Bob
and I think everyone is a slob.

Excepting a few people that I love and adore. Wow, I made that rhyme too.

I'm in a mood that's crap.
For that, you get a bad rap;
You've probably got the clap.

Don't give it me,
Please let me be.
Go and give it to Lee.

I don't know anyone named Lee, but if I did, I'm sure that they would deserve to get the clap.

For lunch, I'll have something unhealthy.
For that my friends is where lies my fealty.
Truly it does, in that I am wealthy.

I should just go back home,
and quit the everlasting emotional roam,
of up and down and up and down amongst the loam.

What? I needed a word to rhyme with home and roam. Look it up.

In my bed I will crawl,
cover up with my favoritest shawl
and begin my weekly "oh woe is me" bawl.

At least tomorrow is Friday,
and the weekend, it will be here to stay.
For a couple of days,
a few fleeting moments,
I won't be stuck wailing in the fray.

Online Dating Poll Results, Edition 1

There was a two way tie between the Hunter Elf and Kaopectate, with one vote cast at the last minute via phone (Thanks Jess!).

Unfortunately it seems that Bigfoot was the dark horse of the race and came up lame and had to be put down and sent to the glue factory. Which, is okay because I have most certainly, certainly, avoided the rape shack behind those hideous curtains. (Check out those curtains in his picture. Notice anything odd and/or curious?)

So it was a choice between #2 and #3. And it's my blog and my life, so I made the executive decision and chose #3, Kaopectate, to wink at. I did so, because of several reasons which I will enumerate here:

Firstly, Hunter Elf sent me a very nice, poorly spelled and grammatically bad (impression, not judgement or fact ) email. I just wouldn't have felt right winking back at him after reading his email, as I have no interest in him romantically and didn't want to send him mixed signals and/or the wrong impression.

Secondly, I must admit that I did in fact ponder not winking at either one of them and mis-leading you, blog reader, into thinking that I had. I chose not to do this, because I made a contract with you. And I am a woman of my word. It also didn't hurt that I had three of my closest friends beside me on the couch who could call my bluff, so to speak. But let's concentrate on the fact that I am trustworthy and not a snake in the grass.

On a lighter note, I did actually sit down and peruse and write a few emails tonight. Personally. Last time I forced my committee to do it. They perused and winked at their leisure. All of those seem to be a wash but hopefully something will turn out.

Coming up next time in Trial by Fire, Online Dating Edition 2: Jim Bob, Punkin' Chuckin' Puck, and Warhol Sm-arhol.

Keep reading! And Goodnight!