Who needs a man?

I plugged my DVD player into my TV last night and gorged myself on Charlie Brown, Jack Skellington, and the Mckenzie brothers with a taste of Drew Barrymore. I still want a man to come over and hook me up the right way, with all the fixins. and yes I mean that in every way your dirty little minds can take it, but really I'm talking about electronics. I mean, I really can't figure out why I haven't landed myself a man based on my electronics alone. Isn't that all they are really interested in?

In my last post I forgot to mention that I can't do HTML, which is what started the whole "what I can't do" post in the first place because I am jealous of Joo's new template. I want one with cookie monster. and floating cookies like the lemons on Marisa's, which I don't have a link to in my links section (which seems to have disappeared) so here she is: www.marisahatesyou.com.

Expect a lot of blogging today because I'm the only one in my office. I do have work to do. I'll get to that next, I promise.

Things I can't do by myself

I thought I was overdue for a list.

1. Lift heavy stuff. This should be a given, but it's not. I used to be strong, like an ox. my bulging back muscles would frighten me when I saw them in the mirror. Then, I wore myself out lifting heavy objects. now, about ten pounds is my limit. It's tough knowing what I used to be able to accomplish on my own. It's been even tougher having to learn to ask for help.

2. Hook up my electronic equipment (computer not included) I could probably learn, but frankly, I'd rather have a man come over and do it for me. sexist? yes. do I care? no. However, I can put my computer together because only the correct plugs go into the correct holes. kinda like sex. everything fits perfectly if you put it in the right hole.

3.Fix my car. newfangled contraption. I miss my good old 86 ford tempo.

4.Plumbing. every time I mess with a spigot, I make a big old mess. so I don't. I leave it for the professionals.

5. Electricity. Ever been zapped? I have. It took me years to get over my fear of plugging stuff in. I have also learned not to date electricians. but that is another story.

6.Kill things. even ants. I don't know what I would do if I came down with a case of the roaches(call my friend Bug Guy) it hurts me to know that my spiders will likely be killed when my landlords move back in

Oh! speaking of landlords, remember how I gave 30 days notice on the 1st? and how I won't be totally out of the house until tomorrow? yeah, we had to move stuff all around because they are having the carpets replaced um, today and tomorrow. and the phone company called and said, hey! I hear your moving! yeah, because they are trying to set up phone service right now. which remionds me, I need to call the trash people and cancel that service. Good god, can't they wait another week??? oh and hey, I wonder if anyone bothered to put the cans out yesterday because I sure didn't.
deep breath
I'm trying really hard not to be a pain in the ass here because, hey, isn't it better to take the high road? But honestly, we have until the first, they shoud give us until the first, and quit jumping the gun for goodness sake. oh how I would love to sneak a giant lump of coal into that woman's stocking!!

Recently heard

(Coming out of my mouth)

*thump* "oof. Hey! who moved the bookcase???"


Thank you, I'll be here all day.

weakling

Remember that part in Napolean Dynamite where the guy tries to rip the tupperwear in half but he can't because he isn't strong enough? I just felt like that. only it wasn't tupperwear, it was a piece of candy. I am so ashamed. now where are my scissors?

Happy Solstice, one and all

That's a Yule Log, not a glowing piece of poo. I was going to send you a different card since this one looks like a glowing piece of poo, but then I thought, "poo is funny" and glowing poo is funnier. And what better to light your way on this, the longest night of the year, than a glowing piece of poo?

The above message went to my sister a minute or two ago. but it was so fun, I thought I would share it with you all too. So Yuletide greetings and Happy Solstice, and this ends the religious portion of my holiday season. Now bring on the presents.

tidbits

If Kate and Orlando do actaully get married, is it because he's stopped saving himself for me?

My boss lit a box of pens on fire this morning to get our admin's attention. I didn't believe it until I saw the singed box myself.

Group sex has been okayed in Canada. wow. I wasn't aware that it was illegal. Not that I'm interested or anything, but wow. Meanwhile, our executive director called my boss to see if he was moving to Canada.

It never fails. Just when I think it's ok to pass gas in my office, someone walks in. I always hope that it gets blamed silently on the waste treatment facility. I must be comfortable with you guys. I don't usually discuss my gas. except with my sister. but she has it too.

I'm getting verrrry sleeepy. I would like to go home and take a nap now, but I have a lot to do. and I should pick up another load at the house. At least get my iron and my black shoes. Oh, and I have to work until 4.

The company dog just walked past me with her head to the side as though she was trying to avoid eye contact. Even the dog doesn't want to talk to me!

I recieved another gift of good smellies. I officially have a complex. They must not be quietly blaming the poo plant after all.

Sick

Yesterday I was sick. Sometime during my fever dreams (I hit 103) I discovered that Nut Butters would cure my illness. And I was trying to figure out if peanut butter would be sufficiant since that all I have.

T and I decided that I must have been infected by martians.

Thats all for now.

All the HooHa fun I can handle

Somehow, the term HooHa came up in my conversation with T today. I resurrected it from the more adult Pussy on account of my 3 year old little sister telling us yesterday that she calls it her Hoooo Haaaa.
T says that getting up close to one likens the possibility of enjoyment.

As a strait woman who doesn't teeter towards the other team, I said that I have one, I keep it clean, and I don't really need to visit with someone elses. Then I thought, hey, it's kind of like my car. Then I realized that it isn't at all like my car for the following reasons:

1. My car needs a bath and a vacuuming. badly. I mean, I have not washed it since July.
2. My Car needs an oil change. I'm not sure how I would go about changing the oil in my hooha, but it doesn't sound like something that should be done.
3. I ride around in other people's cars, and I let just about anyone ride around in mine. Only special people are allowed to ride around...oh now that's just nasty. never mind.

No title

I just realized that this morning, I woke up stressed. and I'm not getting any better. Maybe I really should take a day off. Not to sit in the hospital again, but to rest, relax, and unpack.

Where did I go?

As you know, it is unusual for me to be out on a weekday. This was a difficult weekend for me.

Thursday night while T was helping me move, I got a phone call telling me that my mom was on her way to the hospital. I'm not going to go into details, but I will say that we still don't know what is wrong with her according to all the tests they did (they kept her until Saturday) but we are still waiting for information from Dr. Theneurologist. T took me to the hospital and then all around to collect her car from the nail salon where she passed out and to her house to get clothes and all that. He kept me in good spirits and laughing, and I will always be greatful to him for that. (He says that next time he wants to be the one to slap her back to life (they couldn't find a pulse) but she says he hits too hard)
I spent all day Friday with her and Poo in the hospital. They let her out on saturday evening, but she's not allowed to do anything. I did let her put the angel on the tree after we decorated it yesterday.
Had some family Christmas stuff going on. I have to say that for the first time as an adult, I got to enjoy the wonder of small children opening their gifts, and I realized that it really is what it's all about.

Queen of the Farm Girls

My given name is Regina. I have never cared much for it, in fact, my mom named me that so she could call me Gina. I have always known that my given name meant Queenly, or A Queen in latin. this was confirmed about two minutes ago on this web site:

www.bostonuk.com/index.cfm?id=572

But before I looked up my given name, I looked up the only name I answer to, except perhaps Monster. In Greek, Gina means Farm Girl. Which makes me Queen of the Farm Girls. Now postrate yourself properly and bring me some ice cream. with caramel sauce and a very attractive sex slave. queens shouldn't have to go without.

Oh. Guess that's what I get for living in Lakeside

I am 30% White Trash.
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The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.

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Maybe I don't suck

Not that I have the courage to actually enter my blog based on what I have found, but after reading all about The Blog Thunderdome, and in absolute boredom tody, I went looking at other blogs, which I rarely do unless they have been recommended by a blog I like. I will say that most of the blogs I read daily are not linked to from here, and for that I apologize. I keep forgetting to update over there.

ANYWAY according to the creators of the Thunderdome, most blogs suck and they give lots of examples of sins committed. I imagine I have indeed committed several of them, including blogging for the sake of blogging and yes, this whole thing might be narcissistic, but if you won't love yourself, who will?

I'm not going to pretend to love every blog I read based on the fact that one I do love has recommended it. And I will also admit that if you don't update your blog at least once every couple of weeks, you fall off of my list permenantly because once you are gone, I forget you. Except Sargini. I checked in on him every day. And his Snarkiness. I knew he'd be back eventually, and he popped in here periodically too.

so, I hit the "Next Blog" button. and discovered that there are a lot of blogs out there in foriegn languages. Since I only speak English (I have a repetoir in other languages too, but nothing fluent. Mostly I can cuss. and I can say "I have a frog" in something like ten different languages. But this does not help me) I also looked at the blog update thingy.

I discovered that they are correct over there at the Blog Thunderdome. many blogs out there do suck. a lot. One reminded me of a boyfriend I used to have that talked incessently about his computer. A language I also do not speak, not being a tech head.Another appeared to have been written by a 13 year old that only speaks in instant messaging terms.

So for you, and my ego, I hope that the crap that pours forth from my fingertips provides some amusement once in awhile. I am flattered that anyone comes here to read my thoughts. Many of you are here because I left messages on your blog. Chances are, if I'm leaving messages, I like you. I'm enjoying reading about your life. Thank you for giving me a glimpse and a connection to someone outside my normal realm.

should any of you happen to lose your bid in the Thunderdome, I'll miss you, and see you when you return to the blogging world.

Ps, I may try to sell you soap once in awhile, but I promise that I won't try to sell you a cafepress T shirt with my face on it. I mean, I wouldn't wear it, why would you?

Backfired

today I brought in Costco cookies for my coworkers to eat so I wouldn't eat them. trouble it, they are sitting on my desk so I keep eating them.

Damnit.

It's the only one I have

This is the picture discussed in the next post. I snuck it because I don't have any pictures of T and well, I needed something to put in the XBox. Haven't yet, but that's because I haven't printed it out.

Tis the season. A song for you.

Every so often, I'll write a song. Well, the lyrics to a song. It's been awhile. But here's a new one based on looking at all my friends and their respective loves, knowing that I will be going home alone this evening to sleep between my flannel sheets.

'Tis the season to be lonely
fa la la la lala la la la
I'm smiling big but it's a phoney
Fa la la la la, la la la la
I'm donning now my spinster mittens*
Fa la la la la la la la la
I'll grow old with lots of kittens
fa la la la la la la la la la**

especially bitter sweet are all the pictures of W with his girl. Not because I would rather be in her place, because I wouldn't, but because they do many of the things that I would like to do with someone but I don't. I mean, T and I do that stuff, but there aren't any sweet snuggly pictures. Just landscapes and the snuck picture of the back of T's head. I know I'm being pathetic again, and I'm really trying to stop. But if you are single during the holidays, you know how hard it is to look at all the happy couples running around all excited about twhat they will buy for each other, ice skating and snuggling in front of the fire with hot chocolate (which come to think of it, I never did take advantage of my fireplace) and all that mushy gooshy stuff. I miss that. Crisp mornings and frozen toe fights under the covers, waking up with someone on Christmas morning. My mother says that my day will come. I think mothers are supposed to say that and while I wouldn't take back the bulk of my exes, it would be nice to have someone to spoil during the holidays.

*I'm pretty sure spinsters wear mittens, I mean, I do (hey, where did I put those?). They aren't special mittens, except that Bean gave them to me and now she's gotten lost, but they are spinster mittens since I am a spinster and they are mine. Maybe I should knit some spinster mittens. For my kittens...
**there was more, but I got depressed and had to slap myself for being pathetic.

Hair today, Gone Saturday

I made an appointment to have my hair "fixed" on Saturday. I told her I want to be blonde again. That this will cover a multitude of future issues (you know, like when my hair grows in blonde. good god! at my age, it might look like I'm going grey!) as well as the present one.

I had fun at bunco last night although I have to admit that for some reason, those girls bring out my naughtier side. It must be all the frank discussion on dildos and vibrators. No one actually recieved a dildo last night, although there was a bit of vibrational hardware. A back massager! don't be gross. Regardless, I like my Bunco group and am glad to have them in my world.

woop hair it is

oh. that's supposed to be THERE it is. But this is a hair story.

It has now been one week since the renovation of the red head attempt which ended up turning me into a brownishred head. As you have seen from the picture, which seems to have dissappeared because of that bad post titled "I should be working" (or something) which screwed up my blogger page and won't delete, it looks pretty good.

Little problem.

The dye is still washing out. It doesn't seem to have taken very well on the parts of my head that were previously highlighted. it is fading into a multicolored brownish hue. The top of my head, where my hair was virgin, (I had this bright idea to see what color my hair is sans highlights) is still the color of rich mahogany. Which leaves me with badly toned hair. in another week or so, if I continue to wash my hair, it appears that it will, at this rate (and I only wash every other day) look REALLY, REALLY bad by next Tuesday. I thought my concern would be the blonde hair that grew in, not the blonde hair that is fighting it's way through in ways that can only be discribed as ucky.

With moving, I can neither spend the time or the money (again) to have it repaired. I am not going to try dying it myself again to save a buck. I suppose now would be a good time to call my hairdresser.

Saturday is my family Christmas party. picture central. I don't want to be immortalized as the one with bad hair. Crimany. When will I ever learn not to mess too much with what nature provided?

Why yes,

Thank you, I am incredilbly immature and inappropriate.

this isn't nearly as funny as the Cleaveland Steamer manual. but still amusing if you're me.

Brassier Madness

I'm moving. and by moving I mean that my crap is slowly trickling from my house to my new apartment. Since I am moving into an apartment, I won't have a washer and dryer, so I have declared that I will take advantage of the one at the house as long as I can since I am paying for them anyway.
My bras need washing. So I left them at the house thinking I could just wear a sprots bra in the interim. Sports bras don't help on cold mornings. they don't hide what I like my bras to hide. Thankfully, I found a brand new one in my drawer that not only still had the tag on it, but it matched my shirt today. Problem? so much support that I am busting out of my shirt. can't close my jacket, and my buttons are pulling so you can SEE that my bra matches my shirt. If I thought this problem would score me a date, it would be a good thing. but instead I imagine all the girls who don't know me are whispering "slut" behind my back. Maybe THAT will score me a date*. hmm.

*I still don't date work boys. I might consider an exception with Handsome Richard. Given our lack of conversation, I doubt that will be an issue.

screwy again

I hope this one posts because apparently, I've messed up my blog again. Not that I am saying anything particularly interesting at the moment.

My coworkers made me laugh so hard today that I almost peed my skirt in front of the executive director. that's all the news for today.

once again, I should be working

 

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