Sunday Confessional

Geez, it's been a while since I last confessed...

So here it is... I'm afraid to go to new restaurants because I'm afraid I won't know how to order.

It really stresses me out, especially if it's one of those places where you have to order at the counter, and there's a line up of people behind you, and you have to try and read the board behind the cashiers head, pick what to order, and not hold up the line and frustrate those behind you. UGh, the stress!!

So two days ago the BF, myself and a couple of our friends went out for ice cream to this new ice cream place around the corner from our house. I was first up to order so I did it fast and didn't get anything special, just two scoops of different flavors. I couldn't handle the stress of figuring out the toppings and types of cones and mixing the ice creams etc. So I went with the basic.

The BF on the other hand, doesn't play that way. He got to the cashier and had to ask a million questions and figure everything out. In the middle of ordering this happens:

He takes a step back, runs his hands over his head/face and says loudly...

"So is this where it happens? Is this where the world starts to pass me by. Where I don't understand what the kids are eating these days. What the hell...this shouldn't be this difficult!"

And that my friends is why I hate those situations, and also why I love my BF so much. He has no problem calling himself out, whereas I try my best to still look like I know what I'm doing, and end up eating something I'm only mildly satisfied with.

UPDATE:  We went back again and I tried ordering something more complex!
This is: Vanilla Cake Batter (or something), Chocolate, with Oreo chunks mixed in.
DELICIOUS!

Oh Ya...Right...I Have a Blog...

Oh. Hello. Fancy meeting you here.

I wasn't feeling the blog thing for a while....but guess what people...come on, guess!?!!! I found another human pube on my desk this morning...seriously, that's right!...what.the.fuck.?! NOT ONLY do I dread waking up in the morning to sit in traffic, arrive at my most hated building in the world (think -  how a wrongfully convicted felon would feel about jail), and spend my day with my less than favorite people....but then I have to get here and find friggen pubes lying around! What the hell happens in here when I'm gone!?! I think I should install hidden cameras.

Moving on - I ran out of my anxiety medication conveniently while my doctor was on holidays - I know, I know, great planning...shut up, I already heard it from the BF. So that last couple weeks have been fun. I finally got a new prescription so I'll be good to go again in a week or so when everything gets back to normal. Thank fuck! For anyone out there who is smart enough to realise what they're dealing with, medicate themselves, and then stupid enough to stop taking the medication after 2 months...a) I know, my bad! right? b) GAH! Isn't is sooooo much worse dealing with anxiety after you realise what it's like to NOT have to deal with it? BRUTAL! I didn't realise what it was like to not feel this way until I started taking the medication, and now that it's out of my system I can't believe I lived feeling this way for so long. Anyhow, starting today shit should get back on track!

Next order of business. You know how when someone tells you their funny, or prefaces a story with "Oh.my.god. this is SO funny!" and then tells you a kind of lame story that you feel the need to at least chuckle at because they were SO sure it was hilarious? Well that's what it's like when people write in their blogs about how funny they are, and that they write a humor blog etc. Believe me, I read my fare share of humor blogs, and they don't announce that they're funny. Because why? It's SO lame, and takes away from whatever it is that may actually be funny. Seriously, I have been reading this one blog for like 5 or 6 months, and a few weeks ago there was a post announcing that the blog was changing, blah blah blah, but not to worry, it will still be as funny as ever, etc. And I was all... "wait...what?!? This blog is supposed to be funny?" I was reading it more because I thought the topics were interesting...and then more recently, because it was part of my blog reading routine...not at all because it is "funny"...which it's not. You want funny, read The Bloggess / Ask the Bloggess. That my friends is funny shit! And she doesn't rub your nose in it! Fancy that!

For my wee little Sister...who totally thinks I'm funny...but she has to because she's little'r than me, so I can beat her up! Happy 21st on the 21st! - Black Jack Birthday! I love you a million trillion times more than you can imagine!! I'm sad we can't celebrate in true Gilmore Girls fashion...but whatever, I have something special in store for you! Mucho Love little Kitten!

Sunday Confessional

I'm totally doing a "post date and time" for this entry. I'm just hoping it works, because if it does boys and girls, it means that I can write my Sunday confessional on any day of my choosing, which is never a Sunday...or a Saturday for that matter, and it will appear magically (that's right, this shits magic as far as I'm concerned, something needs to be!) on Sunday! Woo!

Anyhow, Sunday Confessional:

I'm Claustrophobic...which among several other things, is the reason I'm not catholic and choose instead to confess on here. Their little tiny boxes that you have to sit in, (which I'm sure stink like the body oder of the guy that was in there before you, likely confessing he has an adversion to cleanliness) makes it hard for me to think straight let alone breath properly. It's also the reason that I avoid taking elevators with other people. I need a plan of attack if the elevator shuts down and I'm stuck in there. Being packed in their like sardines with a bunch of strangers sounds like a nightmare, so as it stands my plan is to lay down in the elevator and force myself to fall asleep (I have an uncanny ability to fall asleep whenever or wherever I want to). See, if I'm sleeping than I won't be freaking out about being confined and about the amount of oxygen I'm using, and what I'm going to do if I need to go pee, etc. But in order to execute this plan, I need to be alone in the elevator, or at max. with one other person. "Why don't you just take the stairs?" you may ask...well dinkwad, the asshole that designed the building I work in, made it so that you can not access the stairs from the lobby, how brutal is that? So I'm stuck taking the elevator regardless. (And for you firefighters out there, you can take the stairs down to the lobby floor, however they exit outside, and you can only open the exit door from the inside stairwell, so you can't enter them from the outside, totally lame). So anyway, the moral of the story is that I'm claustrophobic, as previously addressed, and I'll wait for WAY too long to catch an elevator so that I can take it alone. If you're ever rushing to make an elevator and you see me standing inside, don't be surprised if the doors close in your face, I'm a bitch like that, I need to insure I have laying down space in the event of an elevator break down.

I have Jame's Brown's "sexmachine" lyrics in my head...they have nothing to do with this

My spectacles, my sight enhancers, my visual aids, my glaaaaaaasses: I need them to see, I can not function without them.

I can't get out of bed if I don't have them, and if they are not specifically where I left them when I fell asleep I will not move until someone finds them for me...it's a hazard! Nothing has edges or distinct lines, I can't tell where one thing ends and another things starts.

Have you ever tried to go cliff jumping as a glasses wearer...sans glasses? Trust me...its terrifying. You can't tell where the edge of the cliff is so you have (or at least I have) an overwhelming fear that I won't jump at the right spot so I'll slip off the edge and tumble to my death. Yes...Terrifying.

How about being  in the middle of a mosh pit when someone knocks your glasses off your face. So you're options are facing almost certain death by kneeling down and patting around for them, or facing certain death by driving home without being able to see. Luckily when it happened to me I had the assistance of a wonderful friend, and some wonderful strangers who held people back while someone else bent down and picked them up for me. They are insanely scratched (meaning I have more than one blurry spot in my line of sight) but I am incredibly grateful for their help. Otherwise...CERTAIN DEATH!!

I can't comfortably watch tv and cuddle with the BF because my glasses dig into my face.
I can't see when I go swimming, so I just float around with my eyes closed.

I hate going to salons to get my hair done because I can't see who is talking to me - and you would be surprised how hard it is to have a conversation without reading facial expressions.

I'm notorious for saying "wait I can't hear you, I don't have my glasses on."

I can't successfully shave my legs in the shower.

I have to do my makeup within inches of the mirror, literally inches, so close that if I put on mascara with too much gusto it ends up all over the mirror, ya...awesome.

(Is it ironic that this post is about glasses helping me see, and I have my eyes closed in this picture? Also, my eyebrows looking so red...an anomaly)

So...here's the dilemma. I like them. I'm used to them. They're like an old friend. I like what I look like with glasses on, and I guess sometimes I feel like I can hide behind them. BUT it would be INCREDIBLY convenient to be able to see without them. SO, do I get laser eye surgery and have perscriptionless glasses to wear around when I feel the need to glasses up my look? Because honestly, that's what I'm thinking is necessary.

Wake Up! Grab a Brush and Put on a Little Makeup!

I'm so sleepy - I could fall asleep RIGHT now if I wanted to. Well I do want to, I more mean, I would fall asleep right now if no one would notice that I was sleeping under my desk. I don't know what it is, maybe still the medication or something that is causing this overwhelming need to sleep, but it's killing me. I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, I look like I'm stoned all the time. My eyes are half closed and half focused, and want to just roll back and close all together, I want that too. Right now I'm typing with my eyes closed because it feel so good. Anyhow, it sucks. It makes it hard to get work done. Oh and the BF is still laid off...ya it's been 2 and half months. BRUTAL.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall...

Like most women I see faults with myself. Lots of them. I rarely wear shorts, when I get out of the pool I immediately cover my legs with a towel, I always wear tights with skirts/dresses. I hate my legs. Or so I always say. Lipo would be nice I always think. I beat myself up over it. But then I look at pictures like this...

and I wonder, is plastic surgery really worth it? Are my self conscious feelings just internal thoughts that won't change with any amount of "work" that I have done? Should I just embrace my legs, flab, cellulite and all?

Slim legs, large perky breasts, flat stomachs etc. are all desirable, but at what cost? Check out this picture of Tila Tequila. A) Where the hell did her nipples go? There should be at least an areola or something showing, right? and B) You can see the scar or folds of the implant under her boob. Yes, big perky boobs are nice, but scars, and visible ripples from the implants...SO NOT nice.

I guess no matter what my insecurities are, I'd always prefer to have natural ripples and unsightly marks then ones that I paid thousands and thousands of dollars for. So I'll start reminding myself that now in preparation of bikini season. Ya, I'm not perfect, but even if I were to pay someone to make me the way I wish I were, I'd likely still be disappointed.

Update : I'm doing it!!! I've now worn shorts like 4 times since the weather has been incredibly warm and a jean skirt twice. This is HUGE! I don't think I wore either at all last year, but I'm determined not to let self concious thoughts bring me down!

It's my boooddyyy and I'll cry wolf if I want to

I'm a worrier, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I was never able to put my finger on it before, never able to understand why I was always in a slight state of panic, but all it took was for someone to look me in the eye and say "it's ok, you're just a worrier" for me to now be able to say it to myself. It doesn't stop the worrying, but it makes it easier to deal with because I can calm myself down by reminding myself "hey, crazy, you're just a psycho worrier, chill the fuck out!" and surprisingly...it works!

I remember once someone telling me I'm a hypochondriac, and being really offended. "Ummm, no I'm not...I've had a headache for A WEEK...hear me...A WHOLE MUTHER F'IN WEEK....I MUST HAVE A BRAIN TUMOR! That's the only explanation!!!" I'm still kinda offended, but I understand where they're coming from...I also understand where I'm coming from though, so they can suck it.

The BF is either the biggest whiner in the world, or his body is falling apart. I'm betting on falling apart since his knees are shot and I massage them nightly, he has a weird bone chip or something floating in his lower back causing pain, and his side/stomach has been aching for like 4 or 5 days. Yesterday he was sitting there holding his side because it was killing him and looked at me and said "I think I have stomach cancer..." (that's why I love him...he knows how to get a reaction). So when he said this I guess my face showed it all, my eyes got big and I got the worried look on my face, and he just burst out laughing, because clearly he doesn't have stomach cancer...but seriously...people with stomach cancer have to figure it out somehow, and it's likely that their stomach's hurt...right!? So it's not so far fetched now IS IT?

I Digress…

Did you ever have to make “mind maps” in elementary school? It’s like a web of thoughts all over a page, somehow related or linked to one another by a main topic until it is just a mess of ideas. (We used these for brainstorming for projects or title pages etc.)

ANYHOW, that is how I feel my brain works, just a mess of random ideas, particularly when I’m explaining something or trying to tell a story. I’ve been told my whole life that I give WAY too much detail. When I was a kid everyone would head out of the room whenever I finished watching a movie or reading a book, because you better believe they were going to hear every minor detail about all of the characters, sub-characters, plot, etc. Sometimes my Dad would humor me and sit through my whole story, and for that I say “thanks Dad!” but I think it’s only because he knows I got it from him and felt he owed it to me to stick it out.

But whatever, no big deal, I like back story, I think it’s valuable. But sometimes when I’m telling a story I get so side tracked that I can’t remember where I was going with what I was saying in the first place… and by “sometimes” I mean pretty much every time I open my mouth. I’m like one giant run-on sentence. The product of a 4 child home. If I have someone’s undivided attention I don’t know what to do with myself, I get so excited everything starts flowing out with no for-thought or plan, its like I’m on Gilmore Girls, I talk a mile a minute. The BF always says “all of your sentences start with ‘and’”, which is pretty accurate, but I’m telling a story, AND it’s good, AND it will likely lead to another story, which is equally as good…AND this could continue all day, AND you better listen to me, because this story is important, or awesome, or both!

I do however loose people’s attention regularly and I’ve gotten pretty good at detecting when it’s happening. Mostly this happens when I’ve started explaining how a minor character in the story is related to the story as a whole, and then the story turns into one about that character, and on and on, and we loose the point of where I was going all together, but I always feel like those details are CRUCIAL to what I’m saying…you need to know that this guy (who triggered the story I’m telling about a different friend from highschool) has a brother, who is the same age as my brother, in fact, all three of his brothers are the same age as my siblings…well kind of, some of them are off my a couple months…and his one brother that’s the same age as my sister is going to university, and blah blah blah, do you have all day?

The big problem is when I notice that I’ve lost them I get so distracted that I can’t remember how to get back to what the story was about in the first place, and I probably had a good reason for telling it, but the whole thing ends up goes to hell in a hand basket, because I usually end up say, “uh…I totally forgot where I was going with this…BAH”

BRUTAL.

Quick! Staring Contest, Me and You…

I have a problem, it’s probably not life threatening, BUT it may threaten my safety, in that people could TOTALLY misunderstand my need to engage in staring contests, particularly because they’re likely a stranger. And you know what they say about “stranger danger”, so I can only assume that each time I engage a stranger in a staring contest they want to stab/cut me. It only makes sense.

I mean, it’s not that I go out looking for staring contests, but if I’m out and happen to catch someone’s gaze, I will not being the first one to break it. I have no idea why I do this, maybe because I like to tempt fate, but so far no cutting or stabbing has occurred, so that’s good, since I’m all about keeping my skin stab/cut free.

Maybe it’s a primal animalistic need to prove superiority over others by holding their gaze until they look away…that’s what you do with Dogs to prove you’re superior, right?

Or maybe I’m just crazy and have nothing better to do with my time.

Or maybe I do it because it’s WAAAY easier to win a staring contest with someone who doesn’t know they’re participating, so it looks good on my win/lose ratio.

Whatever subconscious reason I have, I’m sure it’s a great one. I just hope that I can continue my trend of remaining unharmed by my staring contest opponents.

*Fingers Crossed*