Wednesday, June 01, 2005

MSN Archives: June 2005

Dickless in Alabama
The more I try to understand people and their motives, the more I realize I just have no fucking clue. I should probably try to spend more time focusing on...shiny objects and comic books.

Donnie Darko....wow. Interesting movie with quite possibly the best soundtrack out there (Tears for Fears, Echo and the Bunnymen, etc.). Which brings me to my thought of the day:

"What is the point of living if you don't have a dick?"
- Donnie Darko

Outsourcing
The Plan: my dad and his new wife, both teachers with the Summer off, drove from Michigan to Alabama this weekend to take my 15 year old son back with them (yahooooooo!). My dad will have cheap labor for his canoe livery and my son will have money for more Insane Clown Posse cds. Win-win. It sure sounds a helluva lot more interesting than spending nights on AOL instant messenger and sleeping in 'til noon.


Revision: they think it will last for the summer - I'm hoping for two weeks (I'm a realist). Still, that's fourteen days without that drama queen AND I won't have to cook...I can have beer and popcorn for dinner EVERY night...walk around naked if I want and go gambling in Biloxi. Well, er, actually nothing much will change, but I'm still looking forward to the break.

I will now be under the constant and diligent care of my therapist, Bud Light.

Will the real Indigo...please sit down
Busted. I get sucked into drama rather easily, which causes me to stay awake all night overanalyzing EVERY little thing. True to form, for today anyway, lots of introspection (with the added bonus of headache and bloodshot eyes).

Only ONE person in my real life, a very dear friend, reads my blog. We talked about some things last time I saw him, how I have a hard time telling him about some of my less-than-stellar moments because I don't want to lose his respect. He made me realize it's an insult to our friendship if I feel he'll judge me for mistakes I've made. He's absolutely right, so sometimes maybe he won't want to hear about my vibrator or sex-capades, but it was the right decision, apparently, because he's still talking to me.

Am I real here?

I opened up about being a cheater in my marriage recently, and the events that led to its demise. Someone told me they didn't agree with my actions, but the fact that I opened myself up made them respect me and feel they knew me better. I don't always have earth-shattering confessions..it's entirely too draining but I open up a little at a time.

Flaws? You betcha.

Who the hell doesn't have them?? I'm insecure, always have been. I mentioned once a few months ago that I wish I could fix that and not be concerned with negative feedback. I posted my legs last weekend - a HUGE step for me.

I'm also petty, perhaps (okay, yes). My feelings were hurt when Pariah deleted mine and other's links yesterday - it seemed to me he wasn't being supportive of Lisa. I delete some here occasionally to clean house - people don't update often or I realize I'm not visiting their spaces. I didn't agree with his reasoning, but it's HIS decision. I probably didn't need to keep calling him a fucker.

Final observation:

I hate being ignored. Doesn't everyone? If I ask for an explanation...I want one, dammit (slightly off topic, but a pet peeve: people that leave comments saying "this is too long for me to read, but hello anyway"...uh...then why are you saying anything?)

In real life, you have the advantage of seeing facial expressions when you speak...here, you have to wait for some sort of acknowledgement. Have you ever seen Harley motorcycle drivers nod to one another on the highway? It's a simple gesture (I think it means "yo, our hogs are better and our dicks are bigger"). If only there was a way to share a space "nod" with someone. Or a checkbox in the comments section "Yes, I have read and understand what you're saying" for some sort of feedback.

Say something, say something, anything
I’ve shown you everything
Give me a sign
Say something, say something, anything
Your silence is deafening
Pay me in kind
- James

Employee Evaluations...who's next?
So my boss is on vacation this week and we, as the three managers under him, are rotating days of being in charge. Hump day had my name all over it.

Lunch included margaritas...and we're having some sort of rum coconut concoctions this afternoon. Days like these, I can't believe they actually PAY ME to work here.
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I wasn't going to write about this because I don't want my IT guy to read it (I think he found my blog site)...but yesterday at work after everyone else had left, he had locked the front door and was "working" at his desk. I received an email that I needed to reply to so I wasn't paying much attention - but then I could hear some rustling and out of the corner of my eye I could see his hand - he was WHACKING OFF at his desk.

What kind of freaking perverts (um, and lushes, crackheads and whores) do I work with??

This Moron's Mantra
After breaking up my ex- and his new girlfriend, I had a change of heart. To assuage my guilt, I kept trying to call her, explain things to her and apologize - something I seem to get an excessive amount of practice doing. I'm the tornado and the cleanup crew, rolled into one. My ex finally said, "please stop helping."

In the immortal words of Britney, "oops, I did it again." I offer my heartfelt apologies for my actions, which always seem to come together like a good sitcom in my mind, but fail miserably upon execution. I WILL NOT MEDDLE.

If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, I'm three-quarters of the way there.

On the 10th Day, He Strode Again
Great news: a phone call from my son last night. After a week and a half in Michigan at my dad's, he hasn't worn out his welcome yet, YES! Looks like plan "ship the kid out and find trouble" is moving along according to schedule! My father, obviously, is a saint.

"These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do...one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you."

Sitting Quietly
A lot running through my mind right now...mostly that no one deserves to have such a misguided force called Indigo in their lives. Heaven help them.

AP - 1 hour, 6 minutes ago

BAGHDAD, Iraq - A U.S. Apache attack helicopter crashed Monday north of Baghdad, killing both pilots, a day after a series of suicide attacks left nearly three dozen people dead in northern Iraq. The AH-64 crashed in Mishahda, 20 miles north of the capital, and was in flames on the ground, an Associated Press reporter at the scene said. The two pilots were killed in the crash, which is still under investigation, said Lt. Col. Clifford Kent, spokesman for the 3rd Infantry Division.

Beyond Surreal
Yes, my ex-husband/sperm donor is an Apache helicopter pilot assigned to the same company in Baghdad as the two pilots that died and yesterday was probably the single scariest day of my life. If you're going to rank life events and give them medals, I now have the coveted gold to share the award stand with childbirth and heart surgery. My thoughts are still swirling, a chaotic mess on any given day…yet for a few hours, I had amazing clarity (don't worry, it's gone now).

My Irish/ German heritage means I'm strong in public, rarely cry or get upset, but have major emotional turmoil just beneath the surface. My co-workers probably didn't even realize what a difficult day I had (of course, they're obtuse, so that could be part of it). Reading my blog comments, all the support, concern and hugs people took the time to leave...wow! Thank you from the bottom of my black and rusty heart.

I understand the difference between real life (RL) and space life (SL) and the dangers in living exlusively in a fantasy realm, BUT when strangers offered solace to Barb/Lavender Rain when her mom died, got psychiatric assistance for Hopeful Jo, and consistently offer shoulders to lean on...what a wonderful SL world it can be (if you think I'm being too mushy, shut the hell up or I'll kick your cyber ass).

When my son was little, he would say "double u" (W) instead of "I love you." To those of you who care and let me into your lives (including those who don't particularly want to but begrudgingly allow me to force myself): W.

Don't forget the lube, honey
HOLY SHIT!
I work on a military base with 9 other people. Earlier this morning, some undercover investigators from a nearby town came in to arrest one of my co-workers. Apparently, he owed money for crack to someone, who stole his car at gunpoint Saturday night and used it in a robbery.

Nobody knows all the details (I’ve been trying to eavesdrop from my desk all morning), but we know he admitted to smoking crack and the investigators are taking him and his car for a police lineup. It's not looking like clear blue skies.

Who said Mondays are boring?
**
Apparently, my good intentions of giving my co-worker a healthy addiction like the internet failed miserably since he sold the computer I gave him FOR DRUGS. I suppose it could be kind of funny if the key logger program is still on there and EX is reading. Heh.

Dead Dog Walking
They say man is a dog's best friend...but my dog Skylar has been best friends with a massive Rottweiler for the past 5 years. I used to dogsit for him once in a while when we lived in Kentucky (you never met a more spoiled dog, with his designer travel bag, water bottle, etc...140 pound pussy!)

I was talking to Skylar (which mortifies my son to no end..."mom, people can see you!" although I'm thinking it's his age since EVERY friggin' thing I do seems to embarass him!) and decided to tell her Gunner had been put to sleep this weekend. I don't know HOW this is possible, but I think she understood. She's been moping around for five days now...and I feel SO BAD. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything...

Chains of Love and Big Fat Clocks
How can I explain, when there are few words I can choose
How can I explain, when words get broken

We used to talk about the weather, making plans together
Days would last forever

Remember back in March when my friend in Boston bought me a ticket to go see Erasure with him on June 3rd? Yeah, I forgot, too (SHIT!). The nice thing about Bill is he always calls me when he's drunk...or listens to 80's music...or decides he wants to have a kid. I returned home from vacation to 6 messages from him on my cell phone...holding it up to the stage so I could hear Erasure. Not quite as nice as memorex (or being there), but...

When I called him back, he told me he decided to quit his (really good) job after eighteen years, take the summer off (by training for a triathlon?) and enjoy life. I happen to know the truth: Bill has more sex than any person I've ever known. He's GOT to be exhausted trying to hold a job on top of it! Three different guys/day is probably average...I especially think he deserves a good bitch slap for bragging when I happen to be celibate, but...I wonder if he needs a playmate...?
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I've taken continuous slack for failing my sexual harassment test. I find inappropriate groping humorous, what can I say? When I arrived at work this morning, my co-workers called me in to watch a spoof of a training video on the internet.

My favorite scene:

Two men walk up to the water cooler and one says, "So, word around the office is you have a fat cock. So do I. I was thinking we should put a little oil on them and rub our fat cocks together." HAHAHAHA.

Maybe you had to see it...

To thine own whine be true
Note: DO NOT take a vacation on a romantic island getaway with your son. And dog. During pre-hurricane/rainy season. In a house with nothing but dial-up.
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I hate you and your soulmate cuddling together on the couch while you watch t.v. And you, calling your wife when you're out of town ("you hang up first" "No, you"). I detest the way you bring him a drink before he has to ask. I cannot stand the way you say "I love youuuuuu" and it drifts off and pierces my eardrums. And I especially hate the two of you, strolling down the beach, hand-in-hand, stopping occasionally to gaze into one another's eyes.

Mostly, I hate myself for wanting someone like you to share my life.

Homeward Bound


**Apparently, it's LEGS DAY on Spaces...at least mine are tan

Hair at Home:
1. one of 5 shampoos, depending on if I need clarifying, thickening, conditioning, highlighting or want to smell like coconut.
2. Aveda Brilliant foaming gel
3. Blowdry
4. John Frieda's Sheer Blonde spotlight in the area around my face
5. Sebastian Mess to separate and stick up the back
6. Sebastian Shaper Plus Hairspray

Hair at the beach:
1. Wash and air dry

Wisdom Teeth and the Trick to Ultimatums
Cruel joke: I designated a whole week for a high school dance, and mine lasted less than thirty minutes. Since it's rather anti-climatic, I'll be supplementing it with some pre- and post-event fluff...

At the end of my senior year, I started dating a junior named RK. He was a tall, smart, funny, and extremely romantic virgin, saving himself for that special girl (*gulp* - no pressure there). Since we had just missed going to prom together by a week, he took our separate cheesy prom photos and had a professional photographer edit them by cutting each of our insignificant others out, combining us, and taking a print from that negative. He presented it in a frame for our one-month anniversary. I remember hearing Wham's Everything She Wants when we started dating...and that pretty much summed it up.

That summer together was fantastic - trips to Toronto, Cedar Point, up north to go camping. This would be the first and last time I was ever treated like the budding princess I imagined myself to be. He gave me all the attention and affection he had...it wasn't until years later that I fully appreciated the quality of his...length...and girth, too.


When I went off to college that fall, we agreed we would overcome any obstacles - young love is so cute...and stupid. As a senior in HS, he made the commute from Birmingham to Ann Arbor (2 hours?) a few times a week just to spend time with me. What initially seemed romantic and wonderful, soon started making me claustrophobic. How the hell was I supposed to experience life, bars and and embrace my inner slut if he was always around?! and expecting letters? or calling?! I resented it, we bickered about it, but neither of us was apparently willing to let the relationship go.

Not having been born with a silver spoon, or even cheap imitation silver-plated one, I started looking into loans and other options to help supplement the cost of college. I talked to an Army recruiter about investing two years time in the Army to get the GI Bill.

FINALLY! After a whole year together, our real prom together was rolling around. I had two impacted wisdom teeth pulled a few days before.

7:30 Location: Prom, at some upscale country club
I told RK about my meeting with the recruiter about becoming a medic in the army. He told me I would have to chose the military or him - that it would be too diffult to have a long distance relationhip under those conditions. "Fine", I icily replied "I guess that means we're officially breaking up."

That shithead called my bluff and break up we did...I suppose I expected some pleading and tears, damn him.

8:00 He drove me home.

The last time I caught up with him...he went to law school (did he even thank me for all those arguments I let him practice on me with??), moved to California and started a company to make pages load faster on the internet (? or something) then sold it for $200 million. He's writing a book, volunteering legal services to people that can't afford it, and has three kids. I'm happy for him - he deserves it - but I am SO thankful I didn't end up with him! Imagine what a spoiled rotten bitch I would be!


Fort Savannah
Time for the requisite cat photo - it's been a while and the cats are grumbling.


Vanity vs. Sanity
I've broken my nose twice. I don't recall the first time, but for the second, I was backstroking my way across the pool during swim team warm-up. Daydreaming and admiring the way my boobs floated above the water (okay, confession, I still do this in the bathtub - surround them with bubbles and they look like islands in the clouds - fascinating). I hoped I would drown after a diver landed on my face. Score: 5.8

As I was adding up my lodging, gas and food receipts from my Florida trip the other week, it occurred to me that I spent more than if I had gotten a nose job, maybe something along the lines of Meg Ryan's cute little button of a nose...or Sharon Stone's. Looks like I'll be living with my twice-broken, slightly crooked, nosebleeding, deviated-septum monstrosity a little longer.

Sometimes being impulsive is not all it's cracked up to be.