First of all, my no booze rule lasted all the way until Saturday night. Congratulate me - I lasted 6 whole days before I fell off the wagon. That's a record or something, right?? And keep in mind that there was temptation along the way: I was at the bar with my friends on Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday without succumbing. Hey, I deserve a medal or something, right? How about buying me a congratulatory drink??

Second, I woke up Saturday morning famished. But with absolutely no food in my house. So, of course, I went to Costco. Now for those not from here, or who don't know the genius of Costco, you may think, "I would have gone to the grocery store." Ahh, yes, but one does not go to Costco on Saturdays to shops. (Although I do quite well at that as well.) One goes to Costco b/c they have all the free samples... I LOVE the Soy Crisp Minis they had samples of. I, in fact, had to purchase a box.* I highly recommend them to all.
*"A box" at Costco = 20 packs.

Third, there was a guy Friday night wearing a shirt that said, "Keep staring. I might do a trick." Not that thus guy was my type at all, but the shirt was funny. I love fun t-shirts. I collect them myself. I went up to him and asked him to do a trick. He gives me this look that said, "did you ride the short bus to school?" I point at his shirt. He looks down, turns red, and mutters that he doesn't do tricks. Steadfastly refused. Umm...you've got a girl asking you to do tricks. She is with three other girls who want you to do a trick. And you refuse? Smooth. Two words: FALSE ADVERTISING!

Fourth, and yet another reason why men suck. Consider it advice or something. When you are out with a girl, do not not not hit on one of her friends. That makes you an asshole.

Fifth, (and I'm hesitant to tell this story because my parents now know of my blog, courtesy of The Plain Dealer), I went commando for the second time in about a week. This time, rather than at a wedding reception (sorry Susan) to tease my date - and I completely wasn't taken advantage of, but that's another story - it was to my softball game. See, last week, the captain of the team made a comment at the bar after the game that he didn't care if the girls on his team can play softball, as long as they are attractive. He then said that the girls should be wearing miniskirts. So two of the other girls and I ordered maroon skirts (I'm sorry, but they had to match the uniforms. Yellow with maroon lettering.) These things were too short to wear spandex underneath, and too tight to really get away with underwear. So...you see my issue. Of course, the real issue is that they were too short to also bend over and feel secure...thank God play outfield. I have no idea how the one girl, playing catcher, did it. Then again, we did get a few calls our way... (And we won both games.) Still, I learned that I much prefer going commando on a date than trying to play a sport wearing a skirt. I mean, yes, it was warm outside so the breeze was nice, but at the same time, you are running and hitting and all sorts of things that you are totally self conscious about the entire time.

Right before the game started, the ump asked if they were skorts, and we said no. He asked us not to slide into the bases. Spoilsport. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that we - or at least I - wasn't wearing underwear (the other two were wearing boys shorts, I don't own any, and wearing regular underwear, lines showed.))

The two teams before our game, then our team and the opposing team, and the two teams after our game, all saw us. At first it was fun (I do love attention) but then it got self conscious. Every time we had to get our gloves off the bench, reach for the bat on the ground, went for the ball, ran, or batted, we were stared at. (The last two didn't occur to me would be difficult until they were.) Other guys made a few comments to the guys on our team, like we weren't there and couldn't hear (umm...boys, we DO have ears...But I guess the comments were positive, so what the hell? Most often heard, "way to go" (umm...the GIRLS are wearing the skirts, why are you making that comment to the guys??) and "How did that happen? [And when they were told we were being smartasses] We're not complaining at all.") Still, it was quite enjoyable overall, both for the laughs of it (which is what we were going for), and for the sheer fact that for more than two hours, every guy on the field and in the stands was staring at us (you know, that hadn't even occurred to me, we just throught we'd be funny to OUR team b/c of the comments last week). So yeah, it was a good time, but I'm not sure I'd do it next week...)

I then went to a VIP party at Shooters for Bicardi Big Apple something or other. Basically, we get two free drinks, and we get to try this new apple Bicardi, and all the Cleveland alcoholics drinking on Sunday night were there. Fantastic. Of course, I was wearing a softball shirt, my miniskirt, and was all gross and dusty and disgusting from playing 2 hours in the sun, but still, who can turn down free drinks? Especially as I had falled off the wagon the night before anyway, right?

Finally, I mentioned this once already, but since I was told I was being unreasonable, I'm asking some advice of my own (mostly from the men here) as to whether a comment was an insult or not. I was talking to a friend the other night. This friend has called me "overeducated" (not a compliment) and asked me to "dumb down" in the past. So the other night, he told me that he likes me, "in spite of my mind." I take a little offense to the comment, and he "assured" me that when he first saw me, he only wanted my body and "didn't care if I had a mind or not." And even if I were to let that go, he continued that he'd be "just as happy if I had a lobotomy." Insulting! My best feature is my mind, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, I expressed that I was irritated and angry with him. He told me that *I* was in the wrong for taking offense. That I had no sense of humor. How could I not consider it a compliment, along the lines of "aww, he thinks I'm smart."

So my open question - is that insulting? Or not? I'm going with yes.

I have lots of words. That comes as a great shock from she who brought you this and this and this and this, among others, no?

Anyway, because it's easiest for me, I have the entire family on my cell phone bill. And I get the cell phone bill for my family. We have 1100 minutes in our plan, free Sprint to Sprint minutes, and free nights and weekends after 7 pm. We use less than half our minutes on a normal month, by the way.

In part because this past month, I only used 86 minutes in my plan. (I've used less before.) This is less than the rest of my family, which is really amazing when one thinks abot how much I like to talk. In fact, I'm rather proud of myself.

Until...

You look the non-plan and unlimited nights and weekends minutes and Sprint to Sprint calls. My mom, dad and sister all used between 350 and 375 minutes each.

Me? I used 2106 minutes.

2106.

What the hell IS that? That's like 35 hours on the phone a month.


And the scary thing - that's just my Sprint bill. That doesn't count the Verizon bill!!

Did you know that there is a Shop-a-holics Rehab? [I bring this up only in light of my own shoe problem. I think I need help for it. When your job supports your addictions, you know you have issues. And this is a serious matter.]

"[T]the compulsive shopper really does have an addiction. This is a true disorder which affects about eight percent of the U.S. population. Ninety percent of those affected are women. Compulsive-Shopping Disorder (CSD) is an obsessive-compulsive disorder like compulsive gambling or compulsive binge eating. In fact, people with other addictive behaviors may also suffer from CSD." From here.

In fact, "Doctors have begun to treat people who suffer from a compulsive need to shop with a drug originally designed to treat depression. ... US doctors have responded by prescribing the drug Cipramil for shopaholics who carry on buying despite running into huge debt.
The drug is an anti-depressant from the same family as Prozac. " From here.

I somehow feel better know that my shoe obsession has a name for it. Now for those voices in my head...

I made the comment that I'm done with two things in life: alcohol and men. (Or, as my friend would says, boys and booze.) My friends don't seem to believe I can do it. Give up booze I mean. Personally, I'd think that alcohol is easier to give up, but I guess everyone has their own addictions. Totally inappropriate men are mine. More so than alcohol...

(I had someone tell me that they liked me in spite of my mind. The more I think about it, the more insulted I get. There is more to the conversation, but really, that should be enough, in my opinion. Likes me IN SPITE OF my mind? How exactly is that a compliment in XY chromosome land??)

Oh, for those in Cleveland, the Garage Bar is having all you can drink beer and wine for $10 tomorrow for happy hour (from 6-9.)

I had my mid-year review at work today. I'd rather people just criticize me throught the year - it's much more comfortable than hearing all the ways in which I suck in one sitting. At least if you aren't going to give me alcohol.

(Maybe my friends are right about the booze.)

EVOLUTION, INTELLIGENT DESIGN FAIL TO EXPLAIN BUSH
Scientists in Oslo Debate Origin of President

At a conference being held this week in Oslo, Norway, over one thousand of the world's leading scientists have concluded that neither the theory of evolution nor the theory of intelligent design adequately explain President George W. Bush.

The conference, which organizers hoped would shed new light on the origin of the U.S. president, has so far led to more bafflement than insight, according to the University of Tokyo's Hiroshi Kyosuke.

"There are some here who firmly believe that the theory of evolution explains President Bush, since he shares many characteristics in common with the chimpanzee," said Mr. Kyosuke, one of the world's leading zoologists. "And yet, if you put him and a chimp side by side, it is hard to say with any confidence that Mr. Bush has evolved."

Similarly, supporters of the intelligent design theory have been frustrated in their attempts to apply that theory to President Bush, Mr. Kyosuke said.

"Most efforts to call Mr. Bush the result of intelligent design crumble to dust the moment he opens his mouth," Mr. Kyosuke said. "So we're really back to square one."

As for Mr. Bush's refusal to speak to antiwar activist Cindy Sheehan, Mr. Kyosuke said that he has developed a new theory to explain this phenomenon.

"I believe that President Bush is like 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin,'" Mr. Kyosuke said. "He's afraid to talk to a woman."

Elsewhere, in his first major policy address since announcing his candidacy for governor of New York, former Massachusetts Governor William Weld said, "On second thought, the Red Sox suck."

I simply adore Andy Borowitz...

So wise friends out there in the world (who may not be all *that* wise, as they are reading my blog, but I'm trying to be flattering as I'm about to ask you for a favor.)

I need help coming up with beach/summer themed songs.

Any ideas?

Why is it that I am incapable of keeping nailpolish on for more than two days before it starts chipping. Even the "ten days no chipping" nailpolish - two days. Am I defective? Broken? What the heck?

And does anyone read Funky Winkerbean? First Wally stepped on a land mine in Afghanistan and almost died. And now his wife Becky and Rana might be dead by a car bomb. It's a comic. I hate it when fiction starts reminding me of life. There is enough sadness and grimness in the real world. When something that is supposed to be humerous is grim, it's hard. Then again, this is the same comic that has featured divorce, alcoholism, and all sorts of real world issues, so why am I surprised?

I was also told that I throw a football like a gay male. What the hell does that mean? Is that better or worse than being told that I throw like a girl? Is that some sort of comment that I've just never heard of before?

So you will all be pleased to know that I did not mix the men this weekend. Unfortunately, I *did* mix my alcohol. Saturday night was bad...

I always knew that I liked Stewart Mandell. (Hmm...picking OSU in the Rose Bowl...that's gotta be a curse for OSU.)

And Travis Hafner made two outs in the same inning. That sucks. Speaking of, I've learned that I will swing at the first pitch every time I am up to bat. Doesn't matter how ugly the pitch is. I think it's because I start with a 1-1 count. Of course, this doesn't apply now that I have two strikes against me. What the hell is wrong with me? (OK, don't answer that.)

Interesting.

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free.

In love, you feel the most alive when your lover is creative and never lets you feel bored.

You'd like to your lover to think you are loyal and faithful... that you'll never change.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.

Your ideal relationship is open. Both of you can talk about everything... no secrets.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage something you've always wanted... though you haven't really thought about it.

In this moment, you think of love as something you thirst for. You'll do anything for love, but you won't fall for it easily.

http://www.blogthings.com/keystoyourheartquiz/">What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

There is one that I completely disagree with, one that I think I disagree with but might actually be true in the long run, and one that I'm not sure if it's accurate or not and go back and forth in my mind.

Then again, the one that I'm not sure about (the last one) is essentially true if you believe the other test:

Your Ideal Relationship is Casual Dating

Maybe you're looking for love... But mostly you're looking for fun. You could get serious with the right person. For now, though, you're enjoying playing the field.

What's Your Ideal Relationship?

So what do I know?

Ahh! My bruise is only an inch and a half by an inch and a half (from giving blood.) I find that most excellent. (Sad that I'm excited about that, no?)

When you are editing things, do you go with blue pen? Or red pen? I can't make up my mind. I hate red pen, it's like slaughtering an animal on my paper. But at the same time, the blue is easier to miss. Sometimes, I'll go wild and crazy and go with purple pen. Yes, that's me, living my life on the edge...

Monkeys.

(Nothing associated with that. It's just been a while since I've mentioned monkeys, and I didn't want you all to think that I've lost my natural love of all things monkey.)

I hate giving blood. But as I've said on more than one occasion, I regularly do, b/c I have B- blood and I want to help and whatnot. But without fail, I have problems. Usually these problems are just bruises. Sometimes pretty significant bruises, but just bruises nonetheless.

However, today I went first thing in the morning. Thinking it would be quicker than it would be at lunch. The sad thing: it' likely was. The bad part, it STILL took an hour and a half. I'm not even joking. An hour and a half. You know me, I have the patience of a gnat. I was SO not amused. I think that's why the Red Cross has a blood shortage, NO ONE has that kind of time to waste.

So by the time it's over, I'm SO not interested in waiting to drink my apple juice and eat my cookies, you know? I just jet out of there and get to work. I am in the elevator, and notice that I appear to be bleeding. I get out of the elevator and sure enough, the bandage is all red. Weird, that's a new one.

I open the door, get a few stations away (admins all have desks/stations) and it occurs to me that blood is pouring down my arm, straight through the bandage. I pull the bandage off, and blood is pouring out of the hole in my arm.

I sit/fall down. (Blood is shooting out of me. Projectile bleeding. It was disgusting and distrubing. (And my first though: I hope I'm ok, I have soccer tonight!") The secretary gave me a bunch of napkins, which I put to my arm. There were probably 50 of them, and within a minute, they were soaked through. It was awful.

They called the Red Cross, who asked if I could come back down (ahh, no) and so they came up to me. Took their bloody time too. So for the rest of the day, concerned co-workers kept asking, "are you ok?" Word sure does travel fast...


Oh, and yesterday, I went to the Indians game. Kenny Rogers pitched. We were 4 ROWS behind home plate. Seriously, it was awesome. I could read the official gun that determines pitch speed. I was right on the aisle, so when I say right behind home plate, I literally mean that if they aimed for my head (but lower, you know) it's a strike.

More advice from more college friends:

If your situation was a game it would be Twister. There are all these different moves to make and you choose the one to tie you up in knots.

Always. Sigh. I think that I amuse my friends...

But how much can you complain when your circumstances are of your own making? Your decisions of your own volition? Let's face it: Not at all.

Advice from a college friend:

Boys are like booze...

DON'T MIX!!!


Well, I always was a slow learner...

So I went to Sushi Rock yesterday for lunch (for those not from Cleveland, Sushi Rock serves, well, sushi. Go figure, right?) Well, I am not a sushi fan, so I ordered a hamburger, medium (I like pink to it.) It was so overdone it was dry.

Gross.

Who would have figured that they only knew two ways to cook - raw or overcooked?

A friend sent me this link today. PA Senator Rick Santorum's Chief of Staff and Communications
Director is an African American gay guy. The same Santorum who strongly opposed gay rights.

I just can't understand that. How on earth can you work for someone who is so openly hostile to who you are? How can you look at yourself in the mirror? Wouldn't their toxic beliefs about you spill onto you? Like life isn't hard enough questioning yourself without being around people who are constantly saying that you are a second class citizen, even if they aren't pointing specifically to you, just generally.

Yes, as my friend stated, his self-loathing must be quite high.

Does anyone else from Cleveland get a little heartsad when watching Major League. My sister told me that she was watching it the other day and started to get teary. At first I scoffed...then I realized that it was likely the closest I'd ever be to seeing a Cleveland championship in my lifetime...

And on another note, why on earth is it that Renaissance Fairs and bikers go together? Not necessarily two things that I'd think go together well. I mean, peanut butter and jelly? Yes. Bikers and beer wenches? Not so much.

I got Bertie Bott's Beans today (if you read Harry Potter, you'know what I'm talking about). I think I ate a vomit one. I immediately spit it out in a gesture that was only partially grandiose. Yet despite the split second-ness of the occurrence, the disgusting taste still remained. At this point, I am desperately trying to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth, to no avail. Having it there makes me feel like REALLY vomiting every time I swallow. It's a beautiful catch-22, it really is. You'd enjoy the irony of a piece of vomit candy making me vomit for real.

I'm almost out of my Double Berry Twirl LipSmackers. This is indeed a tragic day, because I asked my new Magic 8 Ball if I was going to Target after work to get some new LipSmackers, and it said that the outlook was not so good...

Finally, because everything blurs together, did I mention this? My friend sent an email today telling us that she has been touched by His Noodly Appendage. Obviously, praise be to His Noodliness. We are Saved. (Well, not you, unless you have accepted the Flying Spaghetti Monster as your Lord and Savior...)

It has now been one week since the death of my lawn mower. We had some good times in the last year and two weeks (aka two weeks out of warranty) but I really think that he just needed more than I could give him (aka oil). I think that it's best that our relationship came to an end (aka I pay someone to cut my lawn next year).

A few headlines:

Did I miss something? Does Venezuela have oil? And that is harsh: "Chavez called the United States the 'most savage, cruel and murderous empire that has existed in the history of the world.'"

And hasn't this poor family suffered enough? Dana Reeve (Superman's wife) announced that she has lung cancer.

And here's a goal for you. Texas Man Aims to Visit Every Starbucks. I don't drink coffee (or any caffeine, actually) but that just sounds like an aimless goal. "Every time I reach a Starbucks I feel like I've accomplished something, when actually I have accomplished nothing." Then again, I want to hit every major league baseball park, so who am I to talk about pointless endeavors?

Oh, my 30th birthday is in 11 months! Which means that my surprise 3oth birthday was 11 months from yesterday. (Remember, the day before my birthday, becusue I won't be expecting it then.) You are all invited, of course.

More later.

OK, seriously, God LOVES me. Yes, not only did my Indians come from a 0-4 deficit against the Yankees to win the game, 7-4, but the last out was made, AGAIN, by Derek Jeter. Oh, AND he made an error. Ahh... Few things make me happier. (And they actually have a chance to go for the first sweep of the Yankees at Cleveland stadium since 1970.) You want to know what - worst case scenario, the Indians take 2 of 3, and if you would have told me that Monday, I'd take that. And they have the chance to sweep.

Have I mentioned how much I HATE the Yankees before??


And my thoughts go out to this small Ohio squad. 20 deaths in 2 days. This town is a Cleveland suburb.

Oh my god. I already mentioned that I thought I broke my lawn mower. But I hadn't finished, so I tried to start it again, and it finally did. So I am mowing after work and all of a sudden, it starts smoking. I mean, SMOKING. There is smoke everywhere, and it ultimately shuts down on me. It looks like I've started a fire or something.

The 77 year old woman across the street caddy corner, who I wrote about earlier, was talking to my next door neighbor, who I've never met. They walk over to see what happened. My next door neighbor, without introducing herself, walks away. Ok. The next thing I knew, my next door neighbor, a 77 year old woman who I never met, is mowing my lawn. She refuses to let me mow it with her mower ("everyone knows their own lawn mower best") and refuses to just stop and let me buy a new mower and get to it this weekend. INCLUDING the back yard, which, come on, no one sees anyway. I felt awful. I am 29. She is 77. And SHE is mowing my lawn...There is a special place in hell for me...




Oh, and few things make me happier in life - truly - than Derek Jeter making the last out in a game where the Yankees are down by one and there is a runner in scoring position. I mean, I love love love seeing Jeter's defeat. It gives me chills.

I went to mow my lawn this weekend for the first time since lord knows when. (It's not *that* bad, it's been dry to the grass wasn't growing.) Anyway, I'm being all good and mowing the front yard, etc and the lawn mower stops working. So I'm excited, thinking that I'm out of gas and hey, I actually HAVE gas in my red gas holder. I mean, just once I'm ahead of the game, right?

So I put some gas in there, but realize there already is gas in there. So I check the bag, but it's not full. OK, that's all I know how to do for the lawn mover. We have hit the limits of my knowledge. So I'm looking at the lawn mower and see this other thing, that says "O-I-L." Hmm...a lawn mover takes oil? So I put some oil in the lawn mower, but it still won't start. I guess that it ran too low and something like that. In other words, I totaled my lawn mower.

The worst part? That's exactly how I totaled my first car. No joke. You'd have thought that I learned. Of course, a lawnmower is cheaper than a car, but still...I guess I've learned nothing since I was 16...


Ok, baseball, specifically Rafael Palmeiro's steroids bust. Let's keep in mind his previous testimony: "Let me start by telling you this. I have never used steroids. Period. I don't know how to say it any more clearly than that. Never."

Well, in light of current events, I guess that's not quite true then. And the ironic part? Jose Canseco, who started this entire thing with his book, now says that he believes that Palmiero would never have taken steroids intentionally. Umm, excuse me, you've just been vindicated, and now you retrack? Jackass.

What strikes me is, how addicted do you have to be in order to take steroids when you know there is testing, the same year as your Balco testimony? I mean, come on.

And baseball knew about this earlier. The players' association challenged the positive test in secret proceedings, and the penalty was held in abeyance until arbitrator Shyam Das decided Monday not to overturn it. So basically, they decided NOT to announce this and let him continue his quest for 3000 hits. Pathetic.

And finally, no comment on Bolton's installation. He is going to lack te backing of the government, and the problem is, everyone knows it. Talk about a lame duck.