I’m in a bizarrely good mood right now – not sure why, but let’s go with it. I’ve been having some thoughts on life, me, and whatnot lately. Yeah...so...:
-Computers hate me. No seriously, they turn on me every chance they get. Most recent example: I got a virus on my work computer last week, and it started to attack my company’s mainframe. The person I called in IT (I speak to her almost every other day as it is) could not stop laughing at me. Our computers are supposed to be very difficult to infect – or so they say. I didn't find it difficult at all; the one I picked up (somewhere, we’re not sure where) took them 2 DAYS to clear out. What can I say, I’m gifted.
-Boys are weird. So I went on a date Saturday night, and the guy spent an abnormally long time discussing my hands. And my fingers. I…wasn’t aware this was a fetish people had. I knew about the whole foot thing, but hands? Yeah, I finally had to kind of blurt out ‘Can we stop talking about my extremities?’ Which doesn’t make for a great date, but hey, the herbed French fries at the restaurant well made up for any awkwardness I had to endure.
-I’m completely out of Christmas gift ideas for my parents. What do you get people who already have everything? I’m running out of time here people! Help me!
-I may very well be attempting to eat my body weight in chocolate this holiday season – I’ll keep you all updated on my progress as I’m sure you want to know how that goes.
-I just bought a pair of 5 inch heeled Mary Jane’s. Now I ask you people, what does a woman who’s already 5’8" need with a pair of shoes that high? Am I trying to do my best impersonation of an Amazon? I’m starting to wonder if I truly do enjoy scaring men away. (Oh who am I kidding – of course I love scaring men.)
-I’m currently looking to buy an apartment – I figure hey, let’s jump in and take advantage of the current economic carnage. Having said that, I a) hate looking at apartments – that’s about as much fun to me as getting stabbed in the eye, and b) I feel a wave of nausea hit me every time I do the math on what the down payment would have to be on one of those places. Guh – maybe I’ll keep throwing my money away and renting.
-Christmas parties are the shit. I love open bars.
-So I think I’m being set up with a cop for New Year’s. What are the odds that I’ll say or do something during the course of the night that will get me arrested? Do cops often try to arrest the stupid/obnoxious girls they get fixed up with? This is kind of a departure from my usual type (lawyers, finance guys, and the occasional bartender for variety), but I’m sort of excited actually. Anyone have tips on what we can talk about? Besides the obvious of course: Want to show me your handcuffs?
-I was babysitting my nephews on Friday night, and the inevitable happened – I had to change a diaper. So there I was changing the diaper on the younger one, and his older brother was standing around waiting for me to finish. Now admittedly, my technique is not what it could be (I am intentionally out of practice), but I will say I was a little embarrassed when P (the older nephew), took one look at my handiwork and said, ‘You may want to use two Aunt Redhead. That one isn’t going to make it through the night.’ Schooled by a 3 year old. Story of my life.
-So it took me all of a week to lose the holder thingee that came with my new Blackberry. This means that instead of being safely ensconced in a protective shell, my Blackberry now spends its time bouncing around my purse being abused. It also means that sometimes the darn thing ends up calling people without my knowledge. (Note: I hate when people do this to me *cough, MOM, cough*.) Anyway, so apparently this happened to my sister yesterday. She got a call from my cell phone, answered, and instead of hearing my voice she got to listen to…I don’t know, the muffled sounds of the inside of my purse I guess.
Now as someone who’s gotten these annoying calls before, I realize there’s often a brief moment where you think ‘Either this moron called me without realizing it, or this person has been abducted and is calling me to save them.’ I normally decide it’s option 1 pretty quickly, but I am paranoid enough to always call the person back to make sure. My sister…well, not so much. I got a phone call at 9 last night that went a little something like this:
Sister: I’m just calling to make sure you’re alive.
Redhead: Yup, I’m alive. Why? Did you put a hit out on me?
Sister: Nope, I just got a muffled phone call from you at around 5. I figured you’d called by accident, but I just wanted to make sure.
Redhead: So you called 4 hours later?
Sister: Uh huh.
Redhead: Remind me never to call you if I’m stuffed in the trunk of a car.
Sister: Well I hope you’d call the police if you were stuffed in the trunk of a car.
Redhead: Fair point. So what’s up?
-Dog story of the post: We got S when I was 6 years old. T had passed away right before we moved into a new house, and my father had been VERY clear that he didn’t want to get a new puppy right away. We had just carpeted the whole place after all.
My mother listened…um, not at all. She essentially waited until my father had finished speaking, nodded her head that she understood, and left the room to make some phone calls about a litter of boxer puppies one town over. She then took me with her to pick out the new baby in the family.
S was so fucking cute. Just all gangly and drooly with her brindle fur, black face, and big brown eyes. Oh, and she had this bottom tooth that stuck out over her lip – it stayed that way throughout her life (no braces for her!). I loved her at first sight.
So my mother gathered up S and brought her home. When my father walked in the door after work that day, he saw my mother sitting there with a puppy in her arms. She had blatantly ignored him! And he was pissed for...roughly 30 seconds – that’s the amount of time it took for my mother to stand up, walk over, and place the new puppy in his arms. After that it was over; he was in love. Who can deny a boxer puppy after all?
More stories about S to come.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
(Clears Throat)
Hello…hello…anyone there? Sorry about the layoff – not sure if people are still reading this stupid blog, but if so an update:
-The family is doing much better after the loss of R. We still miss her, but we’ve moved into the ‘telling funny stories about her and remembering the good times’ stage – this isn’t hard since she was a nutter of the first order. I’ll be ending blog posts with dog stories for at least a little while. Oh, and my mom is already trolling Boxer Rescue sites looking at the puppies; my dad wants to wait until spring to get a new doggie, but I give my mom another month before she can’t stand NOT having a dog in the house.
-Thanksgiving was great – we ate ridiculous amounts of food, played with my nephews (fyi, my youngest nephew freaking LOVES me – the feeling is mutual – and we’ve now totally bonded…he has me completely wrapped around his finger), and drank heavily. It was awesome.
-It seems like a rule that no matter how old you get, your parents can still make you do things you don’t want to do. Case in point: Somehow my parents made us all (the ‘kids’ I mean), sit down for a picture that would go on (not in, ON) their Christmas card. How old are we? Well, besides the nephews, the youngest one in that picture was…me. Do people really want to see a card senders' fully grown children? I didn't think so - my mother is so strange. On the plus side, my aforementioned younger nephew totally blew off his own mother to sit on my lap. Yes, I’m that amazing.
-Went to a great restaurant not last weekend but the weekend before that, and they had fondue as one of the appetizers. Not to get all ‘70s on you people, but is there anything better than dipping stuff in melted cheese? If there is, I haven’t found it. Fucking awesome.
-Funniest night in a while yesterday. Went to dinner with some people that I used to work with – we all survived working for my last company, and that sort of bonded us; we meet every other month or so to catch up. Anyway, one of the people who was there was my old…well, I guess the only word for her is mentor. When I started out in publishing I was an editorial assistant and she was an executive VP. She was loud, she cursed A LOT, and she was (and is) freaking brilliant. Within 6 months of my arriving at the company she took me out to lunch and said ‘You’re too smart to be an assistant, I’m making you an editor.’ Seriously, does that shit ever happen in real life?
Anyway, my mentor was there – she’s 70 now and retired (only not really), still loud, still brash, and still fucking awesome. So I’m standing there talking to a guy I also used to work with (married, but male), and Mentor comes up to me and without any preamble at all says, ‘Redhead, I never realized what fabulous tits you have!’ Cue the guy I was talking to just turning beet red. Some background here – it was hot in the restaurant, so I had taken off my sweater and was just wearing a tank top. Obviously I never wore tank tops to work, so that part of my anatomy had never been quite as on display as it was at that moment…I guess. Either way, nothing Mentor says really shocks me anymore, but that one did the trick. Married Guy (who had been drinking) recoved enough to freaking AGREE. And of course, this started a conversation amongst everyone about my physical attributes. Was this horribly embarrassing? Yes. But I did get to hear that my hair reminds someone of a ‘pre-Raphaelite painting.’ I would have preferred Titian, but beggars can’t be choosers.
On a side note, yes, I’m as surprised as you are that Mentor has never been sued for sexual harassment. I mean, I don’t think she should be – she never means to make anyone uncomfortable, we’re all just too goddamn sensitive – but still…she truly doesn’t edit ANYTHING that comes out of her mouth.
-I just read all of the Stephanie Meyer vampire books – TWILIGHT etc. – and I have to say…I don’t get it. I’m not going to ruin anything here (not that I imagine you guys are into those kinds of books, but I DO work in children’s books, and I kind of wanted to know what all the fuss was about, so…), but what the fuck?! With the exception of the first two books in the series (there are four), I actively disliked most of the characters. The first two books were nothing special, but fine. But the last two…?! I will say this and then I will stop – I don’t like Bella. At all. And Edward is a pussy. Okay, I’m done.
-My sister is back together with her boyfriend. I’ve stopped getting worked up over it. I barely blinked when they broke up after the election – yes, the douchebag actually broke up with her because she voted for Obama (see, I told you he was an asshole of epic proportions). But now…I’m fine. I see all of this as progress – on my part, obviously not on theirs since they’ve learned NOTHING in the past 3 years. But I digress…see how serene I am?
-For those who are wondering, my back is much better. This is all thanks for my grandmother and her magical prescription muscle relaxants that she ‘lent’ me. Yes, as I’ve taken to saying, my grandmother is now my drug dealer. Rock on.
-Today’s dog story: We got T before I was born – she was a boxer of course. So cute, so sweet, and such a boxer (for those who know the breed, you'll understand that comment). Whenever my mother came home from…wherever really, T would jump into her arms for a hug. Literally jump into her arms. My mother would come in the front door, and T would run up a few steps on the staircase, turn around, and leap into my mother’s arms. She would put one paw over each shoulder like she was trying to actually hug. My mother still jokes that it would make bringing home groceries MUCH more difficult, since if she didn’t grab onto T during one of those hugs, well, I’m sure you guys can figure out what would happen.
So damn cute.
Anyway, once I was born T decided that I must be hers. She would sleep beside my crib. She would follow me everywhere. She even tried to get me to share her food (thankfully I didn’t take her up on those offers…right Mom?!). She thought I was her puppy. So imagine her concern when I started to try to walk on two feet. She was baffled, and concerned. So concerned that every time I tried to stand she would, very gently, nudge me back to the ground. When I tried to simply sit up she would push me to all fours. She was…I guess…on a mission to make me normal. Sadly she failed as much as my parents did on that one. But damn, she was a good dog. And I did eventually learn to walk, so no harm no foul!
Is it any wonder I love animals with that kind of start in life?
Sidenote: For everyone who commented on my last post and didn't get a reponse, it wasn't because I wasn't really touched by what you said - I was upset and then I got really busy and then it seemed like I'd let too much time pass, and... Anyway, that's my typically awkward way of saying I really appreciated it, I loved reading your stories, and I suck.
-The family is doing much better after the loss of R. We still miss her, but we’ve moved into the ‘telling funny stories about her and remembering the good times’ stage – this isn’t hard since she was a nutter of the first order. I’ll be ending blog posts with dog stories for at least a little while. Oh, and my mom is already trolling Boxer Rescue sites looking at the puppies; my dad wants to wait until spring to get a new doggie, but I give my mom another month before she can’t stand NOT having a dog in the house.
-Thanksgiving was great – we ate ridiculous amounts of food, played with my nephews (fyi, my youngest nephew freaking LOVES me – the feeling is mutual – and we’ve now totally bonded…he has me completely wrapped around his finger), and drank heavily. It was awesome.
-It seems like a rule that no matter how old you get, your parents can still make you do things you don’t want to do. Case in point: Somehow my parents made us all (the ‘kids’ I mean), sit down for a picture that would go on (not in, ON) their Christmas card. How old are we? Well, besides the nephews, the youngest one in that picture was…me. Do people really want to see a card senders' fully grown children? I didn't think so - my mother is so strange. On the plus side, my aforementioned younger nephew totally blew off his own mother to sit on my lap. Yes, I’m that amazing.
-Went to a great restaurant not last weekend but the weekend before that, and they had fondue as one of the appetizers. Not to get all ‘70s on you people, but is there anything better than dipping stuff in melted cheese? If there is, I haven’t found it. Fucking awesome.
-Funniest night in a while yesterday. Went to dinner with some people that I used to work with – we all survived working for my last company, and that sort of bonded us; we meet every other month or so to catch up. Anyway, one of the people who was there was my old…well, I guess the only word for her is mentor. When I started out in publishing I was an editorial assistant and she was an executive VP. She was loud, she cursed A LOT, and she was (and is) freaking brilliant. Within 6 months of my arriving at the company she took me out to lunch and said ‘You’re too smart to be an assistant, I’m making you an editor.’ Seriously, does that shit ever happen in real life?
Anyway, my mentor was there – she’s 70 now and retired (only not really), still loud, still brash, and still fucking awesome. So I’m standing there talking to a guy I also used to work with (married, but male), and Mentor comes up to me and without any preamble at all says, ‘Redhead, I never realized what fabulous tits you have!’ Cue the guy I was talking to just turning beet red. Some background here – it was hot in the restaurant, so I had taken off my sweater and was just wearing a tank top. Obviously I never wore tank tops to work, so that part of my anatomy had never been quite as on display as it was at that moment…I guess. Either way, nothing Mentor says really shocks me anymore, but that one did the trick. Married Guy (who had been drinking) recoved enough to freaking AGREE. And of course, this started a conversation amongst everyone about my physical attributes. Was this horribly embarrassing? Yes. But I did get to hear that my hair reminds someone of a ‘pre-Raphaelite painting.’ I would have preferred Titian, but beggars can’t be choosers.
On a side note, yes, I’m as surprised as you are that Mentor has never been sued for sexual harassment. I mean, I don’t think she should be – she never means to make anyone uncomfortable, we’re all just too goddamn sensitive – but still…she truly doesn’t edit ANYTHING that comes out of her mouth.
-I just read all of the Stephanie Meyer vampire books – TWILIGHT etc. – and I have to say…I don’t get it. I’m not going to ruin anything here (not that I imagine you guys are into those kinds of books, but I DO work in children’s books, and I kind of wanted to know what all the fuss was about, so…), but what the fuck?! With the exception of the first two books in the series (there are four), I actively disliked most of the characters. The first two books were nothing special, but fine. But the last two…?! I will say this and then I will stop – I don’t like Bella. At all. And Edward is a pussy. Okay, I’m done.
-My sister is back together with her boyfriend. I’ve stopped getting worked up over it. I barely blinked when they broke up after the election – yes, the douchebag actually broke up with her because she voted for Obama (see, I told you he was an asshole of epic proportions). But now…I’m fine. I see all of this as progress – on my part, obviously not on theirs since they’ve learned NOTHING in the past 3 years. But I digress…see how serene I am?
-For those who are wondering, my back is much better. This is all thanks for my grandmother and her magical prescription muscle relaxants that she ‘lent’ me. Yes, as I’ve taken to saying, my grandmother is now my drug dealer. Rock on.
-Today’s dog story: We got T before I was born – she was a boxer of course. So cute, so sweet, and such a boxer (for those who know the breed, you'll understand that comment). Whenever my mother came home from…wherever really, T would jump into her arms for a hug. Literally jump into her arms. My mother would come in the front door, and T would run up a few steps on the staircase, turn around, and leap into my mother’s arms. She would put one paw over each shoulder like she was trying to actually hug. My mother still jokes that it would make bringing home groceries MUCH more difficult, since if she didn’t grab onto T during one of those hugs, well, I’m sure you guys can figure out what would happen.
So damn cute.
Anyway, once I was born T decided that I must be hers. She would sleep beside my crib. She would follow me everywhere. She even tried to get me to share her food (thankfully I didn’t take her up on those offers…right Mom?!). She thought I was her puppy. So imagine her concern when I started to try to walk on two feet. She was baffled, and concerned. So concerned that every time I tried to stand she would, very gently, nudge me back to the ground. When I tried to simply sit up she would push me to all fours. She was…I guess…on a mission to make me normal. Sadly she failed as much as my parents did on that one. But damn, she was a good dog. And I did eventually learn to walk, so no harm no foul!
Is it any wonder I love animals with that kind of start in life?
Sidenote: For everyone who commented on my last post and didn't get a reponse, it wasn't because I wasn't really touched by what you said - I was upset and then I got really busy and then it seemed like I'd let too much time pass, and... Anyway, that's my typically awkward way of saying I really appreciated it, I loved reading your stories, and I suck.
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