First Impulse Was To Run Up On You And Do A Rambo

I have a little bit to say about a lot so let's just do this...

The word water is used in my address. I've had a lot of water issues while living at this address. Remind me of this if I ever tell you I'm thinking of living on any street that uses the word spider in any way. Thanks.

Last night I watched the American Idol results show. I have a few thoughts. Usually the group sing makes me point and laugh and feel superior. But last night it made me say things like "huh?" and "wow...that was unexpected." Because it was actually not that bad. Seems when 11 bland voices blend together you get something nice-ish. Surprising. And the only good thing I can say about the show.

And I say 11 bland voices because of what I'm about to say next...

People...why did you not vote for Norman Gentle*? Seriously? I need to know this. I need to know why the best person in that group did not get through. He's entertaining AND he can actually sing. Yes, he can. I'll hear nothing to the contrary. I love him and all you people who voted for not him can eat my balls. I need Norman Gentle in my life. He pleases me.

I cannot stand that Anime looking theatrical mess Adam whatshisface. He has that douchey My Chemical Romance hairdo, I keep expecting to see him pull Pokeman characters out of the many pockets he has in his "hey look at me, I'm cool and I have many pockets in my clothes" clothes. His voice? I can't decide if he sounds like a drag queen channeling Alex Rose or a cat being dunked into water. He's theatrical in ways that do not work for this show. He's not Meatloaf. His take on Satisfaction made me want to punch my dogs in their heads. He's horrible. So, way to go people. Way.to.fucking.go.

During the show I saw a new Hulu commercial. This time it's Eliza Dushku informing us that watching too much TV will turn our brains into delish goo for the aliens to eat. Erm...really? A website that shows me any TV I want to watch is enticing me to go there by telling me I watch too much TV, I'm turning into a mushy brain, and Alex Baldwin and a girl who plays a girl who gets her brain erased every week will then eat my mushy brain? I clearly do not understand marketing. But I did miss an episode of Scrubs so off to Hulu I go...

Recently I've decided that I need to save money here and there however I can, right? So, that means I no longer order my fancy pants shampoo and conditioner to have delivered right to my door. So for the first time in years I found myself in the shampoo and conditioner aisle staring at all of the choices. Good lord. So many choices. So, even though I just indicated I clearly do not understand marketing, I looked at the familiar brands and thought about their commercials. Many of them show younger girls running around in the sunshine being smiley and happy with their Abercrombie & Fitch looking boyfriends. That's not me. Some of them show naked modely like women showering in waterfalls. I would never do that. Some of the show people with really long shiny dark hair who like to tie it in knots. I never tie my hair in knots. So, I finally saw the Tresemme. And I remembered a commercial with a model type woman who apparently tripped over nothing and then laughed about it. Yeah. That's me. So now I'm using Tresemme and this is why.

I have second guessed my decision a few times while showering. The bottle indicates that it's used by professionals. I don't want to have to buy a briefcase, some sassy yet understated glasses, and a few pant suits in order to meet this damned shampoo's standards. Hopefully the me tripping over crap will make up for that.

The people smoking outside my apartment has gotten so bad that I've actually began Febreezing out there. Yep. I Febreeze the outdoors. That really can't be good for anyone.

I'm done now. At least my notes right here say I am...

*No, I don't vote either. But that's not the point.

The Only Thing Left Said Meant For You

I've started to exercise again. As of last night. And it's already not going well. It seems that when I begin to do my light calisthenics, my homosexual Golden Retriever gets aroused and begins to hump me. Which, admittedly, adds an extra level of difficulty to the jumping jacks I'm doing so I'm not sure if I should stop him or not. Until it occurs to me that in his brain I obviously look like Richard Simmons and then I get sad. This is why I still need to lose five pounds. This is my excuse. It's a good one, no?

I need to make a confession. Ever since I saw the SNL "I'm On A Boat" sketch a few weeks back? I've envisioned me pulling out some lyrics during Randi's wedding reception. Everybody will be dancing and having a good time, probably drinking some wine, and I'll be at the front of the boat yelling about the motherfucking boat. I'll walk up to people with my camera and say "Take a picture, trick, I'm on a boat, bitch!" and then just walk away. And it will be awesome.

More confession? I also have envisioned me pulling out my Irish accent during the reception. I don't know why. And really? Me pulling out my Irish accent will entail this: I'll stand quietly around listening and waiting to hear people talk about what a beautiful bride Randi is and I'll pop in and say "Oh, she was gargeous!" and walk away. Leaving people to wonder "Hmm...how does Randi know someone from Ireland?" I'll be mysterious. It'll add to my allure. Or something.

And yes, all three paragraphs are related. Way to sort that one out Columbo...

I Didn't Like The Way You Were, I Had To Make You Mine

I'm going to broach a subject here that apparently other women have experienced and they stay hidden in the shadows. Quiet and thinking they are alone in their suffering. But ladies, you are not. There are others that go through what you do. There are others, like myself, that also have boob zits.

Yes. There. My boob zits are back. And I'm talking about them. Again. Because apparently I just really don't care if I ever have a date again in my life time. Otherwise I'd order some ProActiv stat! Slather it on my boobicle area and hope that nobody notices them ever. But instead? NO! Let's talk about it.

In my quest to find the perfect birth control for me, I'd suffered through a lot of crap. Uncontrollable crying. Horrible cramps. Crime scene tape being put around my shower. Back zits. Face zits. Increased appetite. Irrational anger. Feeling weird in my own body. Leg pains. Weird periods. Increased periods. Boob zits!

I'm on my first rotation of a different pill and I thought that we'd finally done it! We'd finally found the pill that was going to allow me to be my version of normal for the entire month without cramps and emotional crying and all that. I've been fairly even keel recently. No emotional crying. No irrational anger. But then the boob zits reappeared.

Zits, people. On my boobs! Who wants zits on their boobs?!?!?! I mean...fine. Who really wants zits anywhere. On the face is bad. Who wants to see zits all over their face? Didn't we all already go through high school? And for some reason back zits just skeeve me the hell out. I feel disgusting knowing they exist. So, I don't want them there. But...my boobs? That doesn't seem right either. They're not great, but they are mine. And they have some positives. Like, they had nice skin on them. No marks. No stretch marks. A few freckles here and there. A nice side mole. And more importantly - no zits! They're fairly symmetrical and pretty much in the same spot they've always been, thank you very much. They do their job well. And now they're being marred by zits. This is upsetting to me.

But...if this pill is doing the job in all the other areas...are some boob zits a small price to pay to finally be back to normal and not have horrible cramps in the process?

I could use this as an example of how nothing in my life is ever perfect. Things can be super terrific but there's always that one thing...that one thing making it almost perfect, but never quite it. But I won't get deep here. Even though I could...

A Sweet Sweet Booty, But So So Cold

So...I had a nice meltdown in public today. That's awesome. More days need to start like that. They really do.

Over the weekend another cyst on my dog ruptured and I had to take him to the emergency vet. This is after he'd finally healed from having his tail removed. I just took the cone off of him last weekend. So now, he's back in the cone. And he's bloody. And he's oozy. And he's stuck in the kitchen again to keep him and my furniture safe.

Then? I hear "dripdripdripdripdripdrip" and I go to investigate and there it is. Water. Dripping from my kitchen air vent. More fucking water. And no sign from maintenance still today. Oh, they called me. At 1am. Once I was nice and incoherent and unable to talk to them. So...here I sit. Waiting.

But before that? Oh...before that I load my dogs up and take them to the vet. And the girls ask if I have an appointment. And they do their jobs and tell me they may not be able to get to my boy today. And that's when it happened. That's when something in my brain snapped and I had my public meltdown.

I cried. I got shrill. I raised my voice. I said things like "If they had just taken care of this back in December like I asked I wouldn't be going through all of this right now!!!!!" And I had to go to the back of the waiting room and hide while I composed myself. Because...yeah. I went Wicked Witch of the West on their asses and their words were a bucket of water.

I hate being that emotional. I hate the impression it gives a room full of strangers. I'm not the crazy meltdown lady. I'm the strong lady. I'm the independent lady that handles everything that comes her way. With grace and determination.

But that's not who was at the vet this morning with my dogs. Instead it was the version of me that listened to "dripdripdripdrip" all night. The version of me that was already frustrated over the whole dog/cyst thing. The version of me that had already felt like she just for once needs somebody to be here to take care of things for her. For once in her fucking life can't somebody just take care of things for her?

That's who was at the vet this morning. That's who had the meltdown. That's who has left me feeling embarrassed and ashamed and angry at myself for allowing that to happen.

Dammit...

She's So Far Gone And She Feels Just Like A Fool

My gmail is all confused and thinks it's night and I have little ghosty foxes sitting around a table drinking tea. This is related to nothing. I just felt the need to report it.

I've recently become quite concerned with the majority of the population at large and their literacy skills. Mostly their writing skills, but maybe their reading as well. So, yeah. My original statement stands. Before I begin, I want to point out that no I don't believe I'm a perfect writer and/or proofreader. I know I use commas in completely inaccurate, places. Like just then for fun. But I do proofread what I write. But, because my brain knows what I was trying to say it doesn't catch all errors. Which is why authors, newpapers, magazines, etc. all have editors and proofreaders. Because the more eyes looking at a written piece the better. And I know I shouldn't be so serious and judgey when I'm looking at people's narratives on Flickr and their meme thingies on Facebook....but by god, I am. These are adult people! With jobs and stuff. And their literacy skills make me shudder and shake my head and wonder why they don't care a bit more about what they're putting out into the world. Or not just that...but their image. The impression others may be making about them based on their writing ability. It truly does boggle my mind. Because I'm an asshole.

Now, when I think about that previous paragraph where I'm being all judgey and assholey about the way people write on Flickr and Facebook and then I recall the quality of my IMing ability of late...I get concerned. Because my live typing is so off the charts 'tarded at the moment that I've finally decided that I must have something wrong in my brain. I don't know how people are able to discern what the fuck I'm trying to say to them sometimes. It's that bad. To me, anyway.

Which leads me to this. As I was in the shower this morning I diagnosed myself. See, my arms were doing that tingly, numb thing and I went to the doctor and nothing was found and then I paid lots of money in deductibles and then my dog had an emergency and lost his tail and I've paid out lots of money in vet bills and all this time my arms have felt better. No tingly. No numb. But now that he's better I'm beginning to be convinced that I have a major issue in my brain. But what it must really be is something I decided is "I don't like to have a lot of extra cash about." Why else would I feel the need to go to a doctor right now just to say "Look, when I'm IMing and being silly with my friends, I leave words out and make little sense. I clearly have a brain tumor. Run some expensive tests! Please! I'll instantly gain some IQ points as I recieve the bills and all will be right with the world." Yeah.

I put on my favorite pair of "get these kids off my damned lawn!" pants the other day and went to my rental office to complain about most everybody that lives in my building. As I'm doing so, the girl reveals that she lives in my building, too. So, that was awesome. She can go around and tell others that it was me, I'm the curmudgeon. She came up with a plan to help with the cigarette butts, though. Put a bucket out there for them to place their butts in. Souonds good, yeah? Except it's not sitting out where the people smoke so they can actually put their butts in it. Oh no. It's sitting on my landing. Where the butts are thrown. So...what? Is that so I can quit my bitchin' and help clean up? Pft. If they keep this up I'm gonna need an extra pair of those pants.

I was thinking a bit that I'm boring and wah wah oh woe is me why does anybody like me and being all downer Andrea about it. Until after I talked to Randi last night. Now I no longer believe that I'm boring. It's everybody else. It's TV. It's people out in the world. I'm not being entertained enough to feel motivated or things of that sort. Yeah. So. Do better world. You're on notice.

On The Broken Radiator

I was on TV last night. Go here and then skip everything until 5:51 into it. I'll wait...

Ok, for those of you that are too lazy or simply don't feel like going to YouTube and waiting and then fast forwarding and all that crap, I'll just tell you what it is. Because I like to be nice. Dammit.

Last night on the office Pam said something that basically sums up who I am.

I hate the idea that someone out there hates me. I even hate thinking that AlQaeda hates me. I think if they got to know me they wouldn't hate me. But Karen knows me and she still hates me, so...

That's me! This is how I think. Seriously. It makes no difference whether I like you or not. If I know you don't like me? It bothers me a great deal. Even though on the surface I try to be all who cares about stuff like that. I'm gonna be me and if people don't like it than fuck 'em!

Which, I do believe that. That if you don't like me, like...the real me, fuck off. But, I think what I'm trying to sort out is the fact that I think everyone should like me. Does this mean I think I'm awesome? I think that's what is really puzzling me the most about my mind set. Do I, deep down inside, think that I'm super awesome and super likable? Or am I just that fucking insecure that I need everyone to like me?

But then, every so often, I start to wonder the opposite. I question why the people who DO like me, do. Because there are people in the world who do not, you know, like me. So, maybe they're the ones that are right. And maybe those of you who do like me are somehow crazy in some way.

Yeah. I know. I just called all my friends crazy. You're welcome.

My rational brain tells me that everyone doesn't like everyone else no matter how super terrific they are and that it doesn't mean there's something wrong with me, them, or you. But my rational brain is over-ruled sometimes. Like right now.

Also, kinda a long the same vein, I posted a photo the other day on Flickr and talked about how I shoulder responsibility for things that I really have no part in because of my need to not hurt anyone's feelings and blah blah. And someone left this comment:

You're just a very responsible person who likes life running on an even keel and you're willing to act on those desires and take on responsibility to make it so.

How is it possible for a stranger to know me that well? Or is this a general type comment that's easily read to be so insightful. Because from where I sit? This person nailed it! But I'm also the crazy version of Andrea today so, la la la la!

This is less a real writing of anything than it is just me dumping out some crazy. And I'm not sorry.

The Old King Is Dead

There was an event at my office yesterday. And for this event somebody put together a photo collage of all the office people to give as a gift. Before I even saw mine, the person who put it together said "Please don't be mad. It was the only one I could find." When I saw it, I cringed a bit but it wasn't horrible. Not really. I was a bit heavier and my hair was different but overall? Nothing that shocking.

At least I didn't think so.

Then I started hearing it. "Wait til you see Andrea" and "Wait...where's Andrea?" and then "What? Really? Wow..." as they then looked at me with the same stunned expression on their faces. Everyone. Over and over.

"Ha ha" I'd say. "Yeah, I look a bit different, huh?" I'd add. And then it just kept happening. And it bothered me. And I'm not exactly sure why it bothered me. I mean...other than the obvious reason of not wanting to think that I at one point in my life, not that long ago, looked like a horrible beast or something. I don't know. I don't know the true meanings behind their expressions. Their surprise. But it bothered me. A lot. And that's the end of that.

I've realized over the past few days that I no longer miss the snow. I don't look at snow photos and think "boy...I wish I had that." Until my weather forecast tells me to expect it. I don't even consciously think in my head "oh boy! snow's coming!" But I do get out of bed that morning and go straight to the window. It's not a conscious decision to do that. I just do it. And then when I see no snow, I feel the momentary "bummer." But then I move on. And that's that.

I do not like people who buy up all the tickets to fun musical comedy duo shows and then put them on StubHub for double and triple what they paid for them. I do not like these people at all. I have very little joy in my life, I have simple wants and needs, and they took one of those away from me. I'm going to hold on to hope for a bit longer. But it seems dumb to do that. Like I'm just setting myself up for even more disappointment by being optimistic. But I'll do it. It's what I do. I like to keep the hope alive. And that's that.

And this is the end of all of that.

We're Vincible

People, in general, are very judgmental. Myself included, seeing as though I'm a people. We judge people based on what they eat, what type of music they listen to, what they watch on TV, what they read, what movies they like, etc. What the hell should it matter to me that somebody likes Nickleback? Why is that something worthy of pointing and laughing about? Why do waiters feel the need to turn up their nose if they offer me wine and I choose, instead, to have a Coke or a tea? Did it ever occur to them that I may be in AA? Or that I simply find wine to be yucky and I'd rather have a refreshing Coca Cola? What difference does it make in the big scheme of things? Seriously? This has always bugged me. Even though I'm guilty of it. Guilty of the "You don't like Radiohead?!??! What the hell?" But even when I do it I wonder why later. Just one of those things. I like for things to make sense.

No matter how liberal people claim the entity that is Hollywood to be...look at the evidence to the contrary. Any scary movie ever created will kill any set of teenagers engaging in sex. Any movie involving a cheating spouse will involve somebody losing their shit and getting violent on the person being cheated with. And, erm...that's all I have on that. But still! Look at the signs! Buncha conservatives!!

I need a place that has better conversations going on about movies than what IMDB has to offer. I lose the ability to count above 5 after reading one or two threads there. I saw The Uninvited over the weekend and there's some major plot holes, man. So, I wanted to see what other dorks had to say about it. There needs to be a place for the coherent dorks of the world to gather and have dorky conversations that don't reduce my ability to spell my own name. I don't ask for much.

I'm going to be changing my cell phone service soon. I'm torn between AT&T and Verizon. Give me some word of mouth. Go!