No title, just funny

So, I'm watchin TV, and a Jack In The Box commercial comes on.

Every year, JITB issues a holiday themed antenna ball.

This year, the ball comes with a suction cup in case you don't have an antenna. At the end of the commercial, the following message appeared on the screen: (or something very much like it. it was very tiny writing. I may have to edit...)

"Do not drive with balls stuck to your face"

heh.

edit:
"Do not drive with ball stuck to your face"

I was close enough.

Catch up

The strangest thing happened when I moved.

I became lazy (er). Haven't gotten a home. took months t get a licence. Those curtains I have been meaning to sew since June? got sent, yesterday. Let's not talk abut the thank you cards that weigh on my mind every day but for some reason? I just can't get arount to them.

Today though, I got my insurance switched over. And last week I renewed my business insurance. Those curtains (obviously) are done. can it be that I'm finally getting back on track?

Let's hope so. I still have a long to do list. But I feel optimistic.

Happy HNT!

Turkey Coma edition

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. Mine was good. I missed my family. I think I will always regret not finding a way "home" for the holidays. Lesson learned.

Count to ten

I consider that one of the privilages of being an adult is that I don't have to do anything I don't want to do (you know, aside from working and paying bills, which, techically, I don't have to do, but I like how life is when I do those things). I realize that tthis might change if I should get married, but I like to pretend that there's a compromise in there somewhere. When you're a kid, there's no compromise, you have to do what your adults tell you. I've reached the ripe old age of 30. If I say I don't want to, I DON'T WANT TO.

I think I don't have to say, (even though I am going to) that trying to convince me to do something I DON'T WANT TO DO will piss me off pretty quickly. Especially when that something is something I feel in my soul that I should avoid.

So tonight, when the boys were talking about how they were going to go hunting and such, I just sat quietly with my knitting and let them discuss this sport which doesn't interest me. I do the same when they talk about fishing.

The attention turned to me.

"So Gina, are you going to come out Hunting with us?"

I politely declined. I reminded him that I don't even like to squish spiders. I reminded him that I also do not fish. I mentioned that since there are grocery stores and men who like to hunt, I don't need to.

The tirade began. And I got angrier and angrier. Apparently, I am just like my mother. And he can't figure out how people like me survived since hunting is not in my artist genes. (Sure it is, says I, My father likes to hunt and kill bunnies and skin them and such) Apparently, although my family (hit piss off button #2...) claims to be open minded, we aren't. We're just a bunch of artists (in his language, artist=useless) I finally yelled. I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING HUNT.

I turned to BR. "I'll bitch. all day long. it'll be miserable. don't think I won't. It'll be awful"

thankfully, BR distracted him and they wandered off.

Now, let me get something clear.

I will tell you that I TRY to be open minded. I am a craftsman not an artist. Yes, I have some artistic ability. But I am much better apreciating art and putting things together. Somethimes, those things are beautiful. Then I am an artist AND a craftsman. And, then I realized that he was pushing my buttons. (note piss off button #3)

I thanked BR later, for distracting him. But I am still angry. Sure, I'll be fine tomorrow. But until then, I just don't understand why people won't take no for an answer. At the moment, I can't remember a time when I was forced to do something and I liked it. Not the male strippers, not the movie "Lost in Space". (i didn't DO the strippers, I SAW them. and, eew.) I think that if someone doesn't want to do something, you should respect them enough to accept that. It might dissapoint you that they don't want to share that experience with you, but I can't imagine forcing someone to do something they are uncomfortable with. Everyone is different. That's what makes life so great. If we want to go back to prehistoric times, you had the hunters, and you had the gatherers. I am a gatherer. Hey, that explains all the random crap in my room!

He could indeed see

After a very slow morning, it came time for me to embark on my date. And while I found him to be very nice and attractive too, I think his wife also finds him nice and attractive.

Turns out that it was a friendly type date (I had a good laugh at myself later) and while I would like to keep him, I would like to keep him platonically. You know, like go hang out with his wife and kid and horses and goats and all that. It's always good to have new friends. And based on how comfortable lunch was, I think we can have a lovely friendship.

I don't think he's actually blind...

I recieved a phone call the ther day from a mystery man who knew my name. My whole name. Spelling, pronunciation. he called me at work.

I thought it might be a sales call, a contractor trying to drum up some work or get his foot in the door.

When I called him back he told me that he had been meaning to call me for several weeks. (o-kay...)

Then he said the magic word. JR. I met JR 8 or 9 years ago when he applied for a job at my last casino. I made his travel arrangements and although he didn't get the position, and I didn't remain long in that department, we stayed in touch. He has kept me supplied with pictures and updates on his children and world tours, I have kept him updated on the "wild" life I lead. The G rated version, of course.

I had forgotten that JR was going to have his friend from the other office take me out to lunch sometime.

So I have a lunch date tomorrow. I'm a little nervous, and a lot giggling about it because this fellow could be 40, or he could be 18. I have no idea. Well, that and his office is on Kit Kat Rd. You know, like the Kit Kat Ranch? Hee. Anyway, I will be certain to update you all on how it goes.

What about Cowboy, you ask? Things are the same there. We are not and never have been exclusive. I like him. I would like something more structured, but he's not ready for that, and as long as he's going to date other people, I don't see why I shouldn't too. I haven't, but that's because no one has asked. And no, I don't plan to use this as a way to scare him into commit. We are both too smart for that. He may never know about my date tomorrow. Or, this fellow could be Mr Right. Gotta keep an open mind and heart, right?

Names have been changed to protect the hilarious

Heard at my house about 2 minutes ago:

"Poo? Poo."

"Yeah?"

"The Barbeque is on fire"

""shit."

I think the steaks are still edible.

I really don't think I should feel guilty

Actually I'm a little pissed. I may be overreacting (in my head of course. I generally don't overreact in public)

After work today, I went down to the nearest post office to mail something to my seester. I chose that one over the one closer to my house because it's next door to the craft store and I needed longer knitting needles for a project. (I have that gauge and length...in storage) It was either Ben Franklin, or Wal Mart and Wally World rarely has the needles I want when I need them.

Anywho, que me, walking to the front of the store. Young couple sitting there. He says to me, "Can you spare some change? We're freezing and need to get on the bus." as soon as he said change, I told them that I didn't have any cash on me, that I was very sorry. And it was likely true. I don't generally have any cash on me. Someimes I have a little change, sometimes a couple of dollars, but I wasn't going to start rummaging and plus, it's better that I don't give my last few bucks away, I might need it. Remember the time I lent my step brother all my cash and he used it to take his girlfriend to the movies?

So, I could tell he was getting a little angry, because at this point she stopped him from saying anything else. I wished them well as I moved along. I realize how I appear to those who don't know me.

I'm a clacker. for those of you who have not seen "The Devil Wears Prada" you can hear me from a mile away on account of my heels. And I have elephant feet. They aren't fat, just loud. I wear suits to work. I try to appear as though I am a successful individual. Mary Kay Ash said, "fake it till you make it" and damned if I don't try to dress the part.

What they didn't understand is that I work 40 hours a week. I buy my nylons in bulk at Wal Mart and my suit was $60 at Sears. Two years ago. I do make good money but the bulk of that goes to my credit card bill. (and knitting needles). I might have a mortgage and kids to feed, for all they know.

Perhaps I am prejudging them as they were prejudging me. But I get upset when people panhandle then get mad when I say no. Hell, I'm so tight I don't like to give my father money. And I tend to think that out of two people, one should be able to work. Which means you don't have time to sit in front of the mall and ask for money to ride the bus.

(quick check of the purse found me $6.40)

I might be a bitch. I may find myself panhandling some day for being stingy. Maybe they simply were not able or were trapped without cash. Who knows? But I still don't think I deserved anger. Actually I was a little scared that he would bash my windshield or key my car.

Regardless, they were gone when I came out.

Sneaking Suspicion

It could be a stinking suspicion, but I don't think so. (beware, this post follows my train of thought almost exactly. My thoughts are not linear. I smell cloves. oh, it's my new coriander candle.)

I'm sure you all remember the part of the story where I got my battery changed and lost my radio privilages. If I weren't so cheap, I mean, frugal, I would have bought myself an Ipod by now and been happily rockin out. (I have been told that the Ipod is the only option my snobbish Mac will talk to and, no, I'm not going back, I am also a snob. we get along well)

I was shopping for said Ipod, and bitching silently about the price of technology and oh my how I can't believe people actually pay this much money for this stuf (ahem, forgetting how much I spend on fabric, wool, and other crafty goodies)

NEWS FLASH!! THIS JUST IN!!!

www.bubblycreations.com is up and running, or, at least it will be when I go set it all up again. WHEEE! Now I need a business licence! (sheesh)

The girl at the store suggested that I go to Honda.com and try to get the information there. I gave her the "Don't you think I have tried that??" look and um, went home and tried it.

I didn't have my VIN available. Happened accross it today when I was looking for my tape measure (the fabric one, if you're wondering) (also, boylin black cherry soda is marvelous). The web site said that the code should be in my glove box on a card.

Since you all know me so well, you know that once something goes in my car, it never comes out. So I went down stairs and thought to have another look-see. As I was flipping through my owner's manual (again) an image popped into my head of a sticker that peeled out of my glove box forever ago. Said sticker had numbers on it. I thought about throwing it away numerous times but thought it might be something important. or one of those "inspected by" stickers. That sticker had been floating around my car so long, I knew it must be lost forever.

I found it within seconds on the floorboards. it was about an inch wide and a quarter inch in height. How I found it so quickly among the gum wrappers and gas reciepts might be a modern miracle. Someone might want to call the Pope. (or, you know, whatever you do when there has been a miracle.)

The numbers had distinct possibility as none of them were higher than 5. (I have six buttons)

I have radio and CDs again.

On one hand, I'm thrilled. On the other, the answer was under my feet all along.

thank goodness I didn't buy an Ipod. I didn't need one.

Progress?

I learned today that I did not get all the possible white trash genes I could possibly have gotten from my ancestors, some of whom have lived in trailers. Why, you ask? I cannot fry. I try to fry. I attempt the action. I can saute. I can bake you just about anything you can come up with, especially if it is spelled with a dessert. I can steam, I can boil. I cannot fry. I can't even make a decent pancake. really. Scrambled eggs? ok. fried potatoes? yeah, they were pretty crunchy. My grandmother is rolling over in her grave. The dead one. She? fried everything. and no, she was NOT white trash. But she did once make beer in her bathtub.

I have discovered my inner coke head. Yes, I have a problem. I like coke. I have some coke every day. I was never into coke. I didn't like how it made my teeth feel. For some reason, I now buy and consume large quantities of it. here is a picture...



It's so strange because I have tended to be a root beer or a sprite girl. I have been hding behind my new addiction by telling myself that it's Cherry Coke ZERO which means it's good for me and ok to drink after the gym, right?

Speaking of the gym, except for today, I'm liking my results.

I tried to keep it positive

And not say anything negative about my last attempt at the following...

Hi!

Once upon about a year ago, I was training to be a S- D- D- D-. then I sprained my ankle. By the time I had healed, it was time to move to Reno! Now I find myself with an itch to get back into derby, (and maybe actually make the team one day...) but my skates are still packed and I don't have health insurance yet. (three months till coverage. I wouldn't mind buying new skates. mine suck)

Will you let me work my ass off for you until I can skate, and then work my ass off some more?


The difference? This team actively askes for volunteers.

I hope it's not a sign of things to come

I would like you all to know that I left the house with two differenet shoes on this morning.

Happy HNT-New Underwear edition

If you have been reading this blog for any reasonable amount of time you know that I can't bear shopping for clothes. Unless of course, it's formal gowns, in which case it's better that you get me out of the store right now. You also know that my boobs are a subject I can talk about all day.

I bought my last batch of bras about 6 months ago. Might be 8 I'm not sure. I can only find bras that fit at Vicky's. That means they are expensive. And since they like to make the kind you can't wash in the machine, and since my boobs keep growing, those damn things were obsolete within a couple of months.

I finally went shopping, after weeks of living in sports bras. I tried Macy*s. The bras didn't fit, but I discovered corsets! on sale! And what do you know, they were comfortable! Like the chi chis were floating! I bought one in every color. And I headed to Vicky's for standbys. (found some I can wash)

I couldn't wait to wear my new underwear. It was going to be fantastic. Fan-frickin-tastic. Until I put my work clothes on. And discovered that they just don't look right over a corset.

Now I have lots of pretty underclothes and nothing to wear over them.

I just can't win.

Have you ever...

Updated your resume and realized that you don't like what you have been doing for the last several years?

Looked in the help wanted ads and thought that you weren't qualified for anything?

Felt stuck?

Been willing to take a 50% paycut if needed to feel some sort of job satisfaction?

Realized that if you do take 50% you'll never be able to live on your own...

Part of that sounds like a commercial. I wish it was.

Part of me realized that I am in a unique situation right now. That I could feasably go anywhere with my life (Colorado is sounding a little bit cool right now). That feels a little freeing. But what I think I want is to settle in somewhere and run my own business. Soap, Girl Friday, Yarn Maven, whatever satisfies my need to be successful, even if that means that I get up every morning looking forward to my day. And I come home every evening feeling the joy of a job well done. Comfortable money would be nice, but I don't need to be rich.

I guess I'm just feeling a bit chewed up. And scared. I want to move along, but the last time I got a job on my own I was 19. And I lied on my resume. I told them I had some college when I had none. I don't think that is something to be proud of, but I had been unemployed for two months and my resources had dried up.

My resume is all truth now. All truth and casinos. I don't want to work in another casino. I decided the other day that someting about making a living off of gambling sucks the life out of you. I have developed wrinkles, see?



Life sucking madness. Yesterday they were practically crevasses.

I don't know how to go about this whole job search thing. I look online, I don't like what I see. The simple jobs want someone who types 60 wpm. At my peak, I was at 35 wpm. I'm a hunter and a pecker...er, not a pecker, a peckist. I can learn to do almost anything, I am a good worker. I just need the tools and support to be successful. I'm afraid to post my resume. afraid my current employer will find it. Poo knows I am looking. Somedays, I think I can rise to this challenge. Today we are barely speaking. That hurts. It may not be me, I could just be sensitive. He's got a lot of stress. More every day. Yesterday I wanted to walk out. Today V almost did.

I just needed to vent.

ps, apparently I have SOME photoshop skills. But I think Perez Hilton has the monopoly on decorating pictures with squiggly white lines.