Stop Bugging Me

Everybody has their situations that irk them. Society likes to refer to these as “pet peeves,” where this came from…I have no damn clue. I’d like to think that I’m a pretty levelheaded person and not too many things send me over the deep end, but there definitely are a few things that bug me to no end.

Personally, automatic phone systems that ask you to dial a million options, “Press one if you’d like to purchase Rough Riders 5…” piss me off. When you finally get through all sixteen menus and have narrowed down whatever reason you’re calling Comcast or T-Mobile, the idiot that answers the phone never knows what your problem is. Now, can someone explain to me why I just “explained” my problem via telephone buttons only to have to explain it again to the person on the other side of the line? Mucho annoying.

I also can’t stand it when I’m standing in a public bathroom, washing my hands or whatever, and it’s totally silent except for me and the other person in the stall who’s trying to poop. It’s the most awkward situation. They just sit there silently, letting a little bit out, waiting for you to leave. I almost like to hang out just so they have to hold it in a little longer. Is that insanely devilish of me? (I’m sure only women are this shy about pooping in public.)

Probably the ultimate of all ultimate annoyances of mine is men who try to hit on you while driving. They speed up and drive right next to you, looking over while potentially swerving their car in on-coming traffic, just to smile or catch your eye. Seriously. Are you serious right now? What do expect to happen? Do you think I’m going to pull over and give you my damn phone number? Do you think this tactic works? Leave me alone. I’m just trying to get to work. For all you know, I could be 200 pounds but you wouldn’t be able to tell cause all you can see is my neck, you freak!

Today, I discovered that another pet peeve of mine is the fact that no dry-cleaning places offer same-day service. WTF? I’m new to this whole dry-cleaning business, and frankly, I’m not a fan. First off, just because I live on Queen Anne, they think they can charge me five bucks to wash one shirt. Isn’t that a little steep? I was under the impression that dry-cleaning costs, like, a buck fiddy per item. Guess that was mistake number one. Anyway, I have this totally hot pair of white pants that I basically never want to take off my body. They go with everything and fit me fantastically—they are quite the guy-magnet. After last week’s booze cruise, I managed to sit in dirt, spill Guinness down the front of them, and since I was wearing flip-flops, step on the edges until they turned black. I NEED to wear them tonight to a gallery opening I’m attending. Life as I know it will be over if I can’t. So, before work this morning, I stopped at two dry-cleaners in my neighborhood. A feat since I’m usually running late every morning. Neither of the places could wash my pants by tonight. WTF? Don’t they just put it on a rack and run it through. Sheesh. How long does it really take?

So, I’ve resorted to the most ridiculous, unthinkable solution. I’ve called Express to see if they still have the pants for sale, and even more of a stretch, in my size. The salesgirl informed me that yes indeedee, they do happen to have the pants still, except now they’re marked down to $9.99 instead of $29.99 and they have one left in my size. Right on, how lucky is that? But still, I can’t believe I’m doing this…I’m going to go buy the same pair of pants again since my other ones are too dirty to wear, I’m too stupid to have thrown them in the laundry earlier this week, and I’m incapable of wearing any of my other 40 pairs of pants. I never cease to amaze myself.

Currently Feeling: Totally, totally freakin bummed. Call me, you goon!
Currently Anticipating: Evo art gallery opening tonight, hike with Noah tomorrow, the adventures of the weekend.
Currently Loving: The sweet, sweet summatime.

Love Me Jaded

Last Friday night I received a phone call from one of my greatest and longest friends, Jillian Wright. She and I grew up together and were close in every girl’s greatest time of need—Junior High. We dreamed about our first kiss, had crushes on the neighbor boys, had sleepovers, dug through racks at trashy thrift stores to find the ultimate vintage clothing (that was uber popular back then, remember?), and talked about how chubby and awkward we felt. I remember bringing Slim Fast for lunch with the labels peeled off so no one would catch on to what we were drinking. If only I could be that thin again. We even had notebooks that we would pass back and forth and write long notes during class with pink-colored pens and rainbows. She was my very best friend. I have so many memories about us growing up together. During high school we remained close, but we were involved in two different friend groups. She started dating someone seriously, and so did I. Eventually, after the four years that I was in Bellingham and now that I live in Seattle, our lives have taken two very different turns. We will always remain friends though.

The opposite direction of our life paths was reiterated to me during her Friday-night phone call. She gushed to me that her boyfriend of seven years (aackk!!!) had proposed. And I’m supposed to be in the wedding. Of course, being the sentimental dork that I am, this kind of got me all choked up, and I felt little tears come to my eyes. JILLIAN IS GETTING MARRIED?!?

Wow. I now officially have two friends who are engaged and whose wedding dates are set for next spring. How exciting! Lately, I’ve been a bitter jerk about long-term relationships and the people my friends choose to spend all their time with. But seriously, both Jillian and my friend Shannon are marrying people who I genuinely believe they will be happy with. And geez, I’m a girl—although I choose to roll my eyes at most conventional relationships at the present moment, I can’t roll my eyes at my best friends’ weddings.

So, I’ve been rolling around the idea of being a bridesmaid. Let’s see. I’m not fat, so I don’t think I’ll have a problem with the dress or color being unflattering on me. (Isn’t that a testament to our present day society when fitting into the bridesmaid dress is the first thing a woman thinks about?!?) And maybe I’ll meet some hot guy at the wedding. Isn’t that what happens when you’re a bridesmaid? Except most of the people at the wedding will probably have attended my high school. Ick. I haven’t really come up with any negative association with being a bridesmaid until I was hanging out with my good friend Josh. Of course, I told him about the wedding and how it was going to be my very first time as a bridesmaid. Leave it to Josh to crush all my taffeta dreams by one simple phrase, “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

So, it’s a little cliché. But I think that is one phrase that definitely makes my skin crawl. On all those stupid MySpace surveys that ask what your biggest fear is, I always fill out, “Being the last friend to get married.” Seriously, it’s frightening. I don’t want to be the friend who is 30 or 40 and still playing this ridiculous dating game. I don’t want to hide in my apartment on the weekends, doing yoga on my floor and meditating while I water my plants and pet my cats. And although I’m overreacting, (I still have at least ten girl friends who aren’t engaged yet), my current perpetually single status makes me worry a little. Not only do I feel the itch to have a serious boyfriend, but I have the pressure coming from all angles. I’ve even been dreaming and thinking about ex-boyfriends lately. Is my biological clock ticking, and will I have to start making phone calls to all my exes in the past to see if something is still there? I know I’m only 24 years old, but I’ve started to feel the pressure. My mom mentions grandbabies every time I come home. I was talking to my friend Larisa about how I’m trying to make friends who don’t have boyfriends because I have enough friends who do. She said, “Maybe you just need to get a boyfriend.” Even my junk email box is shouting to me how pathetic I am… “Find True Love” and “Soul Mates” the messages read. One of them from “David” is titled “Watch My Wife Suck It,” hell, even David has found a wife.

So, I’m not on the husband-hunting path yet, and quite frankly, despite all my bitching and woes, I’m happy with being single. Not to say that I wouldn’t enjoy a good foot rub, a free dinner, or a good fuck once in awhile, but I’m happy other than that. But I’ve definitely started to question my ability to date, or if guys like me or not, or if I’m cute enough, thin enough, worthy enough. Will I ever fall in love again? I’m starting to feel a little skeptical about the idea of finding a decent guy who will love me and never leave me. I guess this is what happens to us the older we get and the more we’ve been hurt. I’m jaded. I guess I’ll just have to refer to Aerosmith when I meet the next man of my dreams (and hopefully he won’t be divorced and 35): Love me Jaded.

Currently Feeling: Like tomorrow is Christmas
Currently Anticipating: This weekend. I have awesome plans. Cinco de Mayo on Friday, Mariners game and a Cinco de Mayo Siesta party on Saturday and pedicures, wine and good television with Jill on Sunday
Currently Listening To: Pearl Jam! I’ve got to learn all the lyrics before the concert this July.

Blow Filled Muffins

Found myself at Marcus’s Martini Heaven last night. Interesting place. Felt like I stumbled into a scene from a 70s movie, or somewhere where I should be wearing a low-cut, silky v-neck top and high hooker heels, and have mascara below my eyes and the sniffles because my nose stings from the blow. The people next to me should only be pretty and rich. They love me because I am beautiful, on drugs and powerful. This is the world I stepped into last night. Walking into the bar almost seemed forbidden and secretive when I had to descend a long stairwell into the basement where the bar resides. “What’s the Secret Password?” they ask. “Sesame Street,” I reply…Black leather couches, psychedelic, neon paintings of naked women that are clearly reminiscent of a drug trip, and fish tanks that one could stare endlessly at. I’ll be going back. But not before I get all loaded and stumble in, teetering on my three-inch gold lame heels. Sounds fantastic…I think it will make me popular.

On another note, if you were to read my horoscope this week, I’m pretty sure it would say, “The stars and Venus are aligned together is retrograde this week. Therefore, you will be forced to come face-to-face with a number of muffins. Don’t be overwhelmed. And try not to give in to the indulgences. A minute on the lips is a pound on the hips.”

Seriously. Mini apple and cinnamon filled muffins with cinnamon crumbles on top located directly behind me on the coffee bar. I walk past every time, eyeing the plastic container with them. Knowing that the one that is missing since the last time I walked by is from me. I think I’ve eaten six. But I’ve lost track at this point. Even as I write this, I want to get up and grab another one. Is it weird to you who read this, that my blog has turned into my fatty eating confessions? Perhaps I’ll change the name of my blog to Confessions of an Overeater. (Miranda dated an overeater and he overate her!)

Currently Feeling: Silly and hyper…perhaps from the six muffins or maybe the sun?
Currently Anticipating: Of course, dinner tonight and ANTM. (again)
Currently Wondering: The sitch with me and the Brit.

Breakfast Oxymoron

I ate the grossest and most delicious thing for breakfast this morning. Now I can’t decide whether I just feel satisfied or if I should go throw-up. I woke up this morning with a nasty hangover after drinking beer last night. It’s been awhile. I’ve been trying to stay away since beer is a killer for the waistline. However, I bowled a 171 for the Lucky Strikes and kept winning free drinks, so of course I had to keep drinking…

I don’t know if it was because I dreamt about it, or if my sudden craving for chocolate milk was just a spontaneous combustion of my junk-food brain, but I needed it. I needed it now. So, while I was putting on my makeup this morning and counting down the minutes till I could drive to 7-Eleven and buy a creamy, cold bottle of chocolate milk, I started to think about how good a muffin sounded. I think I was trying to momentarily regress to my Fatty McGee days of working at Tully’s when pastries and fattening drinks were my morning, mid-morning, afternoon, mid-afternoon, mid-pre-evening-I’m-disgusting routine. Geez. And I wonder how I suddenly had pillows stuck on the sides of my thighs, ass and stomach last summer.

Before starting my morning commute to Federal Way, I stopped at 7-Eleven and perused the pastry case. It all looked pretty disgusting and the pre-packaged muffins said they were something along the lines of 560 calories and 30 grams of fat. I cannot physically read that and still buy something. It just sounds too gross and unhealthy. So, of course I settled for the muffin in the case that didn’t tell me how bad it was. That way I could pretend that it wouldn’t make me gain five pounds overnight. It was cherry. And had bright pink icing drizzled over it in a crisscross pattern. I figured, coupled with my chocolate milk, that it would taste like a chocolate-cherry explosion in my mouth!

It was a little dry. I decided to take just a couple bites of it and throw the rest away. During bite two, however, I discovered a small little white chunk in it that looked like a marshmallow. OMG…is this a cherry marshmallow muffin?!? (Everyone should know by now how I feel about marshmallows. If not, refer to my marshmallow blog on MySpace) Unfortunately, or fortunately, (I haven’t decided) it was not only a marshmallow muffin, but when I tore a piece off the side, I discovered that the whole damn inside was filled with marshmallowy frosting somewhat similar to what they put inside of a Ding-Dong or Twinkie. It was like discovering at the cash register that the most beautiful new shirt you picked out is actually half-off.

Is this muffin for real? It was unbelievable, yet kinda fell into the “scratch my eyeballs out” category after I picked it apart and all that was left was a gooey, crumby mess on the seat of my car. (Which will probably still be there next week.) Leave it to 7-Eleven to make a cream-filled fatty cherry muffin. I took the plunge, I fell for it. I am officially gross for not only eating it, but enjoying it while I did. I think the next step is buying one of those crusty rotating cream-cheese filled pizza hotdog things washed down with a Big Gulp. Somebody stop me.

Currently Feeling: A little icky and depressed.
Currently Anticipating: Getting through this long and god-awful day so I can lie on my couch and do nothing.
Currently Looking Forward To: ANTM and the taco bar at my house tomorrow!

Heal the World, Make it a Better Place…

Eye, yi, yi…busy, busy, busy I’ve been. I think about blogging during the day, but then I don’t have time to get around to it. This new position has me trudging through a long to-do list each day that I never really finish. I just end up making a new one the next day, adding the things I didn’t get to the day before, and more things that come up. I’ve been in and out of meeting all day today. While my head feels a little overloaded, I am super excited with the direction that I myself, and the project I am working on, is moving toward. It has helped me feel like more of an integral part of my writing/donor engagement, fulfillment, and development team. (JARGON. JARGON. JARGON.) Anyway, we are basically creating my position each day as we go forward. It is really exciting for me, since I get to be involved with an awesome program at World Vision. Sometimes it amazes me the direction life takes you…If you would have asked me when I was still at Western and in the midst of my journalism degree, where I saw myself, it certainly wouldn’t have been here. One of my favorite mantras though is “Things happen for a reason,” and boy do they ever. For those of you who don’t already know, or have not read my previous blog, I am now a Project Manager/Writer for a program at WV that we call Community Partnerships. A Community Partnerships is basically where a donor adopts a village in Africa. It is amazing and interesting. The donor’s money provides the village with things that they otherwise could not have. I just learned today that I get to take over the role of providing letters and gifts to the donor from the village. I am excited for this because they are supposedly awesome. The letters are all handwritten and the gifts are created by people in the village, such as last year a donor received a huge painting someone painted of the village. I’m excited to organize this…it should add some heartwarming touches to my day. All in all, I am happy that I have been given the chance to work for a non-profit company. We do incredible work all over the world, and it makes me feel that I am making a difference, however small it may be…

Currently Feeling: Sleepy. I had to wake up super early to make something for our “breakfast devotional.” If done so much praying today (weird); I’m definitely going to be doing some extra sinning tonight!
Currently Listening To: Ben Harper’s new CD over and over. Trying to learn the words for the concert…
Currently Anticipating: Seeing the Brit. He’s out of town, and I miss him!

Piece of Shit Car

Most of you have seen or ridden in my car. It is a disaster. Probably my favorite joke is how I drive a car that looks like a homeless person’s vehicle. In fact, it’s so bad that I don’t know if even a homeless person would want to drive it. The condition my car is in is beyond unfortunate. It’s moved on to pathetic. It is, of course, all my own doing.

My parents bought me the car during my senior year of high school and it was in perfect condition. I kept it nice until two years ago when a woman threw her door open in a parking lot and hit the side of my car. It looks like someone took an axe and had a good ole’ time to the right side of my car. Her insurance said it was my fault, so I couldn’t get it fixed by my insurance. And it’s all gone down hill from there. When I lived with Amanda, we had parking underneath our building, but the two poles I had to park between were so close that I hit them almost every time I tried to park. This resulted in a cracked mirror, and stripping the black piping off the side of my car. Then I tried to pull out of a spot one time on Fremont Ave. too quickly, and I hit the flowerpot to the left of my car. Then a rock cracked my windshield, my speaker cover fell off and was lost somewhere in Bellingham, and piping starting to come out of the driver’s seat from so much wear. The front of my bumper is cracked all to shit, I guess from all the parallel parking I’ve had to do between Western’s campus and Seattle. To add to the beauty, a couple months ago I was picking up something from Sarah’s house and the turn-around to her apartment building has one of the sneaky cement poles…you know, similar to the ones at gas stations. Well, I didn’t notice it when I pulled out and my car got stuck on it. Every time I pulled forward, it would scrape, and if I tried to reverse, it just dug itself deeper into the side of my car. I couldn’t tell you how I finally got unstuck. In conclusion, I have scrapes, dents and problems on every side of my car. I can’t even park it on its “good side.” Oh, and did I mention that I just figured out the passengers side window decided to kick the bucket when John was in my car and trying to smoke?

I don’t even think the worse part about my car is the damage to the body. I am probably the messiest, grossest person to ever drive a car. And I couldn’t explain why. It might have something to do with me not caring anymore, or just being lazy. I don’t know. I try to figure it out but just don’t have any answers. See, when I say that I drive a homeless person’s vehicle, it’s not just because it’s beat up. It’s because it literally looks like a homeless person lives out of it. Currently, I think I have ten or so rotten Tupperware containers that I can’t seem to manage to bring inside every time I use them for lunch and take them home from work. My backseat also has a couple stray hangers, my slippers, a box of Corona boxers that I got in a Christmas gift exchange, a Victoria Secret box with a bra and underwear that I’ve been meaning to exchange since Christmas, a couple juice bottles, six or seven empty cigarette boxes, my gym bag, three or four old US Weekly magazines, flip-flops, receipts, a baseball jersey and hat, my mitt, Uno cards and more. I know all of you are cringing right now. The only reason I remember all the shit that is (was) back there is because I had to throw it all in my trunk this morning in a big hurry. “Why,” you ask? Because I’m an effing dip-shit.

I walked out to my car this morning only to find my lights on and my battery dead. FUCK! I live by myself and literally don’t have anyone around that could help me. Usually I turn to my dad for car help. He loves me for it. Most of my friends were already at work, don’t drive cars, don’t get up that early etc. So, I decided to try and call some tow trucks, which all of them charge close to 60 bucks to come jump-start you! WTF?!? I’m sure you’re all probably wondering why I didn’t consider calling the Brit. The guy you’re dating is supposed to be good for these types of things, right? Oh trust me, I thought about it, but it was definitely my LAST RESORT. See, I’ve been dating him for almost two months now and he has yet to see my car. I just can’t bring myself to do it. All my friends know what it’s like, but they love me anyway and have known me too long for it to matter. Besides, it’s good for a laugh. But how do I drive around a guy who is older than me, drives a nice car and complains when he has three papers on the floor of his car that it needs to be cleaned? If he saw the state of my car, he’d probably think I was the nastiest girl alive. I’ve been avoiding him riding in my car like the plague. In fact, every time I spend the night at his house, he gives me a ride home. But every time he stays at mine, I say, “All right, have a good day.” And snuggle back into bed, hoping he won’t think I’m a selfish jerk for not offering him a ride home. One morning it was pouring rain and he was worried about ruining his leather jacket, so I gave him an umbrella! Oh man, I know what I’m doing is jerky, but I still don’t want to offer him a ride home.

So this morning I was out of options. I couldn’t afford to suddenly buy AAA or call a tow truck, I had no one else to call, and I certainly didn’t want to miss a day of work and pay for no reason when I was already up, showered and dressed. I took the plunge. I called him and he was more than happy to come help me and would be there in five minutes. FIVE MINUTES? OMG. My car is an effing dump. So I bolted out of my apartment building and started throwing shit in my trunk. People driving down 5th Avenue probably thought I was a crazy woman. After I piled my trunk full of the garbage that existed in my back and front seat, I swept the leaves on the floor, straightened out the mats to cover all the dirt, and prayed he wouldn’t look inside or notice the state of the body of my car. I popped the hood, and leaned against the front while I waited for him to arrive so he also hopefully wouldn’t notice how cracked and peeled the paint on the bumper is. If I could have, I would have acted like a human blanket and covered all the ugly parts of my car with my hands and legs. Maybe that would be my super-hero power I’d wish for.

Well, he jump-started my car and was nice enough to not mention the sorry condition it was in. I’m still not ready to let him ride in it, seeing the outside of my car is a whole nother story than seeing the inside. Maybe I’ll let him see the inside once he’s so in love with me that nothing will sway his opinion…right. In the meantime, at least I’m driving around a semi-clean looking car because now all the shit is in the trunk. Maybe some day I’ll get around to cleaning the trunk…

Currently Feeling: So excited for bowling tonight…I made t-shirts and snickerdoodles for the team!
Currently Anticipating: Seeing the Brit after bowling. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday because he’s been on a business trip!
Currently Reading: Night. (A new Oprah Book Club selection about the Holocaust.)