Avoid the musk from Rusk

I have been walking around today, smelling like a man.

No, I didn’t forget deodorant. No, I didn’t go to the gym and not shower this morning.

I did, however, purchase a new hair product last night without smelling it. I’ve never come across this problem before. I know to stay away from the “boy-specific” hair product line, American Crew. Other than that, I’m assuming everything that comes out of the expensive bottles I buy is going to smell like coconut, kiwi, lemon-lime, strawberries and fluffy pink marshmallow clouds sprayed in glitter. This is highly important as a girl. After all, boys are taller and always seem to have their noses slightly too close for bad-hair-smelling comfort. Isn’t it supposed to be a girl’s signature to smell good?

Not today. Today I smell like a bottle of cheap men’s cologne one could purchase at Bartell’s for $7.99—perhaps a little Stetson, if you will?

It’s driving me nuts and giving me a headache! Every time I walk, or turn my head, or move even a little, I get a big wiff. It’s like I have a 60-year-old man from Renton handcuffed to me and sitting in my lap all day. Gaaa-ross!

I can’t wait to go home and wash this cheap man scent off me. In the meantime, I’m avoiding all men over the height of 5’ 5’’.

Currently Feeling: SO, super EXCITED that Baby Daddy called from port, and should be home in the next 10 days.
Currently Anticipating: Just being held. Ok, I lie. Maybe a little before being held.
Currently Reading: “The Wonder Spot” by Melissa Banks. Can’t put it down!

A Slow But Steady Decline

Today I’m wearing light-colored work pants, and while primping and admiring myself in the bathroom mirror, I noticed that the small dimple that has formed in my left butt cheek is visible through my pants. SICK. Is there anything grosser than those old ladies whose legs and butt are noticeably lumpy? I’ve walked around all day, tugging at my camisole in the hopes of covering my imperfection. My days of wearing white pants might be coming to an end if I don’t do something about trying to get rid of this little dent! Running?! Increased exercise? Magical, miracle cellulite cream?! Butt lifts at the gym?! I’ve heard that cellulite is hereditary, and I’m lucky to have escaped most perils of the cellulite world. I’m thankfully, for the most part, curvy but muscular. But, since I was not graced with big beautiful breastesses, I MUST PRESERVE MY BUTT. It’s the only man magnet I got!

This little dimple on my left cheek has formed some time between college and now. It could have something to do with sitting on my butt for eight or more hours, Monday through Friday. I’d be sour too if someone squished me into a pancake, numbing all sense of feeling, for that long each day. I think my butt has boycotted this office job by puckering.

This whole dimple thing really stresses me out. Mostly because it’s all downhill from here…

Don’t you love the visual I created for you?! I just happened to have this photo lying around that someone took last summer. God bless Photoshop! LOL.

UPDATE: I’m feeling very vocal about my work day today…When you have nothing in your lunch bag besides squash soup, a small dollop of cottage cheese, a small dollop of tuna fish and a small dollop of Rosemary Chicken Salad from Trader Joe’s, you really wish it was 5th grade again and you were sitting next to someone who might want to trade lunches with you.

Currently Feeling: Disappointed that both passes were closed this weekend, and we missed out on our Leavenworth cabin trip for Larisa’s birthday. I was really feeling the need to get away for a weekend.
Currently Anticipating: Starting this new walking aerobics class at work.
Currently Wanting: The new Vampire Weekend CD.

Manners please! Aisle Four!

Last night I reluctantly stopped at the grocery store on my way home even though I was in a DayQuil fog, and it hurt to hold my body upright. (Damn you mid-winter cold!) I was walking down the dairy aisle on my way to pick up yogurt when, “EXCUSE ME!” was shouted at me, in a ridiculously loud voice. I quite literally jumped and made a slight yelp. It scared the shit out of me. A hunched over, very old man pushed past me in his tweed newsboy cap and tweed sports coat and waddled his way in front of me.

I was immediately annoyed. It was quite rude. Not only could he have passed me on the right or left (I’m not so wide that I take up an entire aisle), but it could have been requested in a quieter and much more polite tone—one that didn’t make me jump six feet in the air. To make matters worse, we were heading toward the same goal, and he really only arrived five seconds prior to me. So, why the rush? Apparently he was there to pick up cottage cheese with fruit, which I overheard while the grocery store employee was assisting him.

I really hope that when I’m an old lady, the only thing lighting a fire under my butt and causing a big excitement in my day won’t be cottage cheese with pineapple.

Currently Feeling: Tired of not having any sick days.
Currently Anticipating: Getting this long, meeting-filled day over with.
Currently Wondering: How things are going on that little boat in the middle of the Bering Sea.

Sunshine, roses and lollipops

I finally ran into the evil child and her mother on my way home from work today. After two months of screaming, stomping, yelling, pounding her feet against the walls, fit-throwing and “I HATE you mommy!”s at 2 a.m., 4:30 a.m., 6 a.m. and basically every hour of the day, I was beginning to wonder if she resembled a little beast with hooves. She was, just as I suspected, dirty-faced and scraggly-haired. I made a point to look exceptionally frosty toward the mother and then glared at the little girl as I walked past. (Yes. I am 26.)

“You’re a good little girl! Aren’t you?” the Worst Mother in the Universe said to her child. “You smiled like a good little girl, didn’t you!”

She was trying to make a point.

And now let me make mine.

There is no way that your child is the definition of a “good little girl.” You have a serious case of denial, lady. Your child, in fact, is the devil.

Just admit it. Then have her exorcised from your apartment.

It’s only the natural thing to do…

Invasion of the Baby Screamers

Sarah and I have a huge new development at our place of residence in beautiful Seattle. We have a baby and a new dog! No, we’re not lesbian lovers who secretly had a sperm donor impregnate one of us or a surrogate mother. Nope. In fact it’s really exciting for us…neighbors below us just moved in and they have a screaming child and yappy dog, so now we don’t have to worry about entering that phase of our lives on our own! We can just live vicariously through our neighbors!

I think this is really exciting.

I now get to wake up at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday to my new child running, no slash that, thundering up and down the hardwood floors, screaming, “Tater tots! Tater tots!” I also get to hear, “Mommy?!” clear as day while I’m putting on my makeup in the mornings. My evenings consist of sitting on the couch with earplugs in while I read so I can try to drown out our yappy dog. And more than once a week, I get to participate in a screaming match with my child—during her bath, while brushing her hair and for no reason at all most the time! She especially likes to frequently scream, “Mommy I haaatteeee yoouuuu!” at the top of her lungs.

Sarah is a little new to this whole baby thing and lost her cool the other night (some mother you are, Sarah). In the midst of one of our darling little daughter’s fits, she screamed, “SHUUUT UUUP!” at the top of her lungs. Three minutes later there was a gentle tapping at our front door. I don’t think our twin parents were happy with our momentary relapse in proper parenting, and they chose to explain the situation to us on a little note, slipped under the door.

It was, of course, written on the back of a little scribbled drawing of a pink and purple dinosaur.

Oh yeah, did I tell you our new little daughter is quite the artist too?

I think she takes after me.

Currently Feeling: Like I want but don’t need a cheeseburger.
Currently Anticipating: Sarah’s birthday party on Saturday and snowboarding on Sunday.
Currently Loving: Tuesday nights that include dinner with my parents and best friend, a fun recreational event, and then a boy to cuddle with later. I’m getting WAY too used to this.

Coping with Fashion

I feel pretty today.

I gave myself a manicure and pedicure last night in a pretty coral pink. I put a sexy, flouncy black pencil skirt on this morning, a silky flower top and my favorite tall black Guess boots. To top it off, I added my favorite butterfly earrings and the best berry shade of lip-gloss that I own.

I needed to feel pretty—personal relationships and friendships are melting to the ground around me. A couple of my friendships are hurting in deep, personal ways; a Dolphin Sister just broke up with the man she thought she was going to marry; my roommate is hurting from another friend’s betrayal; a girl friend of mine just found out her best friend slept with the guy my friend’s been on and off dating for months; and my sister is being ousted from her social circle by a group of Mean Girls.

So in the middle of all this emotional turmoil that I’ve found myself to be at the hub of lately, I’m just going to stand here and feel pretty.

Cause it’s the only thing making me feel good right now.

Currently Feeling: Like I need a good vacation.
Currently Anticipating: Seeing American Gangster at the Big Picture tonight.
Currently Loving: Vanessa. My heart goes out to her.

A Conversation at My Local Bar

“You look like a heartbreaker. I can tell. You’ve broken a lot of hearts, haven’t you?” said a man to me in the bar last night with a hazy smile and creepy lilt in his voice.

“Um, no. Not really,” I responded, completely and utterly uninterested. I turned back around in my seat and took another sip of my wine.

“Oh yes you have. Don’t by shy to admit it. You’re a total heartbreaker,” he continued, despite my obvious attempts to blow him off.

“Uh. NO. Actually. I’m. NOT. I’ve had my heart broken more than I’ve broken hearts. Come to think about it, I don’t think I’ve broken anybody’s heart.”

“You fall in love with everyone you meet!” chimed in my male friend, sitting next to me at the bar. “You jump in way too fast and always get hurt!”

“Um. Okay. Maybe…what can I say? I’m a one-man kind of woman. I like ‘em, and I fall hard,” I responded. Somewhat a little taken back that I’m categorized and obviously a girl that “jumps in too fast” when I SO thought that wasn’t me. Gee thanks. Nothing like reading me like an open book.

“I don’t care what you say; I still think you’re a total heartbreaker,” says the bar patron again.

Some guys will never get me…

Currently Feeling: Like I’m a writing machine!
Currently Anticipating: Our pumpkin carving party this weekend.
Currently Hating: Hurting someone’s feelings.

I’M DYING!

I think I have fibromyalgiadispepticnosis.

Just joking. But really, the fibromyalgia is correct. I have had crazy muscle pains lately…I first started complaining about my knees. If I sit down for a long period of time—like at my desk or in the car—they’re completely stiff when I stand up, which makes me feel like an 80-year-old man. Then I had a stiff neck, which normally goes away after a couple days. Nope, apparently I’ve been sleeping on my neck wrong for an entire week cause it still hurts. To top it off, I’ve had crazy pain in my shoulder, so bad that it hurts to lift my arms to take my shirt off, and I can’t lie in bed on the side the sore shoulder is on. (I’m pretty sure this is because the Incredibly Attractive Man in Great Jeans picked me up while drunk, and then proceeded to drop me sideways into a parked car, but that’s beside the point.) All this muscle aching is wearing me out!

I’ve also felt uncharacteristically tired lately. I get eight or more hours of sleep, but I yawn all day, and can’t wait to crawl back in bed at night. This has really put a damper on my party attitude, dammit.

Of course when you have abnormal symptoms and general distaste toward spending a couple hundred on an inconclusive trip to the doctor, you turn to diagnosing yourself on the Internet…

Big Mistake. Huge. All of a sudden every symptom listed starts to sound like something you’ve suffered from in the last month or so. And, inevitably, everything leads to a major chronic disease or

Cancer.

Or

AIDS.

So yeah, I might have fibromyalgia, or cancer, or AIDS. So, you better all love me while you can.

Currently Feeling: Accomplished and talented. Not modest at all.
Currently Anticipating: My. God. The. Weekend. Of. Course.
Currently Wishing: A new job would land in my lap.

ARGH!

I’M HAVING THE WORST DAY EVER.

MAAJAH CRAPPY.

Rarely do I feel like shit is raining down upon me, but this is just one of those moments. Work is crazy, money sucks and a few other things are bothering me. And of course, when a few things are bothering me, I obsess over them. This trifecta is causing me to act quite unlike myself. I’d like to think that for the most part, I have my stuff together. I generally deal with the bad, move forward and work to make sure I maintain a certain level of happiness—find what’s making you unhappy and fix it—a certain life mantra of mine, if you will.

But sometimes it’s just easier to admit it’s not going your way.

Sometimes it’s easier to admit that things are getting fixed quite as fast as you’d like them to.

Sometimes it’s okay to complain, bemuse, cry, moan and admit defeat.

It’s all about “growing as a person and accepting your defaults” or something, right? Isn’t that what Doctor Phil or Oprah would tell me?!

So, today I’m having a Quarter Life Crisis. It’s not the end of the world.

In fact, I’m sure it will all pass as soon as I win the lottery and buy a lifetime supply of Valium. Or soak for hours in Strawberry Creamsicle Delight bubble bath with a glass of champagne and read a 600-page book from cover to cover. Or meticulously clean my apartment from head-to-toe with a toothbrush and a mixture of Comet and vinegar. Or bake a double fudge brownie, triple-layer chocolate cake with cherries and cream cheese frosting, and then eat it, piece-by-piece, until there’s nothing left. Or move to a tropical island with Stella, two bathing suits and a lifetime supply of US Weekly magazines. Or double fist Cosmo’s with a bottle of champagne and a side of four packs of ciggies.

Ahh. All of those sound dreamy.

On a lighter note, I have a date tonight. Let’s hope I don’t project the completely frazzled and totally un-put-together person that I am right now.

Cause that’s just tacky.

Currently Feeling: Ridiculous.
Currently Anticipating: My 826 Seattle training session tonight for volunteering as a writing tutor to children.
Currently Loving: That I’ll finally get to see The Maldives again tonight. Anyone remember my previous post about them? I’ve been meaning to see them again ever since.