Crickets and frogs and owls, oh my!

For Halloween, Kaia and I went to the Roof for the Black-i-Ball party. The party was pretty low-key, but still a good time. There was even a red carpet and a professional photographer! Can you believe that?!

Anyway, the party wasn't really blog-worthy, other than the fact that pheebee was hit on by a woman. What was noteworthy was the overnight stay in theWit hotel. theWit is a fantastic hotel -- by Doubletree, believe it or not! the rooms are lovely, the tiniest bit of a downgrade from Westin. Same great comfy feeling, just less luxury. I liked everything about it. Loved even! But, they have the WEIRDEST couple twists I've ever noticed.

First, the complimentary lotion was by Gilchrist. Not the first time I've seen this brand in a hotel. But, this was the first time I'd ever used a lotion that smelled like freshly cut grass. Grass! I can't say that I don't like the smell of grass. It's very summery and nice adn reminds you of an outdoor barbecue. But, why on earth would a person want to smell like it? Weird, but we can live with it. Besides, the scent is going to fade after a few minutes anyway.

And then, we went into the hallway. Excuse me, but why do I hear crickets? We are still in the heart of downtown, right? They have it piped in. Yeah, you read that right. Instead of crazy Musak, they have nature sounds piped into the hallways of the hotel. And it gets wilder. They have crickets and owls at night. And then, in the morning? Roosters, birds, and ocean waves. So, I say to Kaia, why are there roosters and ocean sounds? Where are there farms near oceans? She says "maybe in Pennsylvania. Never underestimate the Amish."

Oh geez. Dear hotel management. Please stop wasting the energy to pipe in ridiculous nature signs. It's ok if the hallways are quiet. Or, in the case of Halloween night, filled with the sounds of 4 d-bags dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tossing stuff about. (True story. I found out that's who they were when these d-bags woke up the next morning, loudly yelling the title of the theme song in a ridiculous staccato voice. I could hear it through the adjoining door. Awesome).

One or Two Good Drills

So, I'm watching the Packers game against the Vikings. We're at home today, and it's been nail biting so far. Not much has happened, it's just incredibly tense to see Benedict Favre return to Lambeau with a shockingly good Vikings.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Ahem. Sorry, I was interrupted by awesomeness on the field. Hooray GB recovering a Favre turnover!

Anyway, as I was saying, the hype around this game has been huge, of course. But the best part was watching Favre walk out and get booed. And frankly, the booing was deafening. It was amazing. I imagine that had to hurt a little bit from Favre. Terry Bradshaw predicted that there would be more cheering than booing. Favre did spend 16 years in green and gold. Boy was Mr. Bradshaw wrong. Really wrong. I bet it hurt more than a little bit. Can you imagine coming "home" after all these years, after the Super Bowls, record breaking, blah blah blah, and receiving a pail full of venom?

I can't say it isn't what he deserved. Yes, the management in GB took a hardline stance. and they had their reasons. But, we all wished Favre well when he went to the Jets. But, he has just repeatedly thrown salt into the wound over the past year. First, to go to the Vikings. An arch rival!! And then, to not only go there, but to say that it's the best team he's played on. Whoever said that Favre didn't do it for revenge is lying. And by whoever, I mean Favre.

I sure hope they drill him!

More Wheeeeeeeeee!

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I decided to take the plunge! On Sunday, I raised money and awareness for the Respiratory Health Association in a way that was a million times more exciting than a run/walk would ever be. The RHA of Metro Chicago hosted the Skyline Plunge! on Sunday. What is that you ask? It is the awesome feeling of plunging down the side of The Bolt of The Wit Hotel with only a polyester harness, metal hooks, and nylon ropes holding me suspended over 27 stories. I used a metal mechanism to lower myself down those 27 stories.

People asked me over and over if I was nuts, scared, crazy, senseless. Truth is, I am none of those things. I was just feeling adventurous, and it was for a good cause. Although, I can't say I was really doing it for altruism only. No, I was doing it for the thrill. Honestly? How many people can say they rappelled down the side of a building in a busy downtown area?

The actual feeling was quite tiring. You basically have to hold yourself upright. Another blogger described it as holding yourself in a perpetual sit-up. I'd add that your tummy is tight, but it's more like holding your self in a crunch -- so not only are you holding your upper half up, but your feet too. The other thing? You're supposed to be "walking" down the side of the building. Pah! Whoever said that was totally lying. My feet kept slipping, so eventually I just gave up and let myself dangle. I can't say I was a big fan of when I started spinning around, and slamming into the side of walls made of glass. The other thing? No one tells you how tired your hand gets! To lower yourself down, you have to squeeze this little mechanism. It really feels like those old school hand strengthening devices that men used to use to prove their strength.

Eventually, I got to the point where I just wanted to get down as fast as I could because my hand, back and inner thighs were starting to get really sore. That, and it was a bit repetitive after a while. There really wasn't much to look at up there. I bet the scenery is beautiful from a mountainside. But from theWit? Really just street, trees, and river. The Chicago Theatre sign looked REALLY cool though. Anyway, enjoy the pictures that follow!

Ad Nauseum

So, on Monday I saw an ad in the RedEye for a fundraiser for the Respiratory Health Association of Metropolitan Chicago. Instead of a run/walk, volunteers will be rappelling down the side of theWit Hotel!! How cool does that sound?! On Tuesday, I sent out an email to nearly everyone I know asking if they'd be willing to donate. On Tuesday night, I had insomnia so I signed up. On Wednesday, I started my big electronic push to get funds from friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances, friends of family, co-workers of family, etc. I even posted a link and status updates about my efforts on LinkedIn and Facebook.

Now, I'm about 58% to goal, and I've got a ways to go. For the record, I will have to cover any difference between what I raise and what is the goal. Which, I must say, is an excellent motivator. But now? Even I am sick of hearing myself talk about it! I've managed to slip it into so many conversations I'm starting to think I'm playing a perpetual game of 6 degrees of RHAMC (get it? Instead of Kevin Bacon?).

I'm almost done though. I go over the edge of theWit in 2 days. The irony here is that I've now managed to put it on yet another crazy. Ha ha!

Revenge of the broke

Today I went to look at a townhome for sale. It's up for short sale, and it was the very first piece of real estate that I went to look at with actual potential for purchase! Usually I'm just tooling around my neighborhood looking at places that I'd buy if I had oodles upon oodles of money. Anyway, I was really excited because the pictures on the MLS website made it look really awesome. Of course, being the cynic that I am, I was expecting the pictures to be total glamour shots, and that they'd oversell the place.

Nothing could prepare me for what I saw though! Ok, I've heard before that homes in foreclosure are often in terrible condition, because people are saddened by the fact that they've been evicted out of something they own. But this was ridiculous! Apparently, the trashing rule also applies to those homes that are under short sale. Ok, so we went after work. Obviously, it was going to be dark. Well, the people who used to live there were kind enough to leave lightbulbs only in the bathrooms. Seriously! They stole nearly all of the lightbulbs! They also took some of the light fixtures too.

What they did leave behind was portions of a sectional, piled in a corner. Some cleaning supplies that were obviously not actually used on the unit. Dust bunnies, nasty stains on the carpet, and a pencil. All I can say is, ewwwwwwwwwwww.

It's really sad too, that of the three places I checked out, this is the one that had the most potential. Ack! Quick, I need a couple hundred grand -- clearly I need more buying power.

Rush in NFL

I know I'm late to the discussion party, but I also know that all of you were dying to know just what I was thinking too. (HA!)

So, Mr. Rush Limbaugh wanted to buy a piece of the St. Louis Rams. Frankly, I think he should've gone ahead with it; or more accurately, I think his partners shouldn't have kicked him out. I would have love to have seen the fall out. Players requesting releases, free agents refusing to sign with St. Louis, the organization having to payout extraordinary sums of money to get players to stay or sign. The entire organization financially brought to its knees. Followed by the boycott of the games by fans (because the Rams begin to suck AND on principle). And Rush Limbaugh losing all of his money.

Here's what's sad, I don't think it actually would have gone down that way. I think some of it would've happened. But, I'm betting that everyone has their price -- and a lot of players would have gone to St. Louis just to be in the league. And I don't think all the hype would've had much of an effect on people who just wanted to watch a game. Sure, I think there would have been some sort of outcry/repercussion. But, I don't think that the attention span of the American people is good enough to really sustain a movement against an NFL team past the immediate season.

So, good work to the partners that kicked Rush out. I guess my real question is, what were they thinking when they put him in? You couldn't find anyone else with a couple mill to toss around!?

French Women Don't Get Fat -- PAH!

Well, I've been to paradise and back. I spent 3 days in the French and Dutch West Indies. Aside from the fabulous weather (a few minor rain sneezes, but otherwise great) there was a ridiculous amount of extraordinarily rich food. I ate two full French meals. Plus, I had a lovely catered dinner at the hotel. I for sure gained 10 pounds in those three days. I don't know how French and West Indies women don't get fat, but I'd die for their secret!!!

Now, aside from the extraordinarily rich food, I also marveled at the fabulosity of the hotel. And by calling it a hotel I am underselling the Dawn Beach Resort and Spa. A Westin owned resort, this place was every bit the tiny piece of heaven Westin advertises it to be. I must have taken 7 pictures of my room alone -- and I was in one of the less desirable rooms! I had a hallway in my room...a hallway! Then, off to the left, a nice sized closet with a cleverly placed switch that turned on a light whenever you opened the door. To the right, a bathroom bigger than my current bedroom. Big enough to have a separate glass enclosed shower and a huge bathtub.

Then, the bedroom, with a big flat-screen tv, a king-sized bed, a lounge chair, and a desk. And yes, bigger than my living room. And, the sliding glass door opened onto a balcony, large enough to hold two chairs and a wooden coffee table. It was fantastic!

The thought I had to myself as I was falling asleep my first night there? "I don't care where I go on my honeymoon, as long as I stay in a Westin Resort."

To top it off, I met my new married friend! She doesn't have a nickname yet. But, she is fabulous! She is for sure one of the most put together people I've ever met. And, she's got an extraordinary husband too. (At least, the way she tells it).

New Year's in October

It was a lot like New Year's Eve. I spent way too much money to go to a bar that normally doesn't have a cover charge. I was wearing a pair of extraordinarily uncomfortable shoes (that were fabulous!!!). And I wore a fantastic party dress that I purchased for no apparent reason 6 months ago but worked out splendidly for the event. It wasn't nearly as fun as it was hyped up to be. But, all in all, I would've been really mad if I hadn't gone.

And that, is my very accurate description of my 10 year high school reunion. Honestly? It was soooo not worth the $65 I paid. And, frankly, the reason it wasn't worth it probably had something to do with poor planning. However, I know I definitely would've regretted it if I hadn't gone.

In high school, I wasn't very popular (or awesome). The popular girls generally didn't give me the time of day. (These were the same girls that were too cool for school in elementary and middle school). As you can imagine, I was soooooooooooo ready to have my big (HAHA B*****S!!!!). I definitely didn't get that opportunity. None of those girls were there. Some of the nicer popular girls were there, but they were all kinds of hugs and kisses. It was weird. Even weirder, one of the girls that I was pretty good friends with in high school gave me (and the rest of us) the cold shoulder! Say what!?!? Hilariously, she's teaching theatre, speech and English classes now, and had truly turned into the crazy dramatic theater teacher. Seriously, the transformation was crazy. Picture one of your good friends suddenly morphing into that hippie teacher in high school. For the most part though, nothing truly outrageous occurred.

So, I didn't get my big HA moment, but I got to see a ton of people that I actually liked throughout high school and see what they were up to. And up to they were! One guy had toured with Prince, and another girl was a diplomat for the U.S.!! Unbelievable right? But most surprising were the number of girls who were married and/or with children. That was MIND BOGGLING! Can you imagine being married right now? Don't get me wrong, I would totally rock an engagement ring. And I am so amped for the cake and party. But to actually see the same person over and over again, everyday, and commit to love and cherish them for all of eternity? Good-ness. I am shuddering on the inside. Hmm...having recently read over older posts, it would appear that I'm totally over my desperate attempt to get into a relationship (for now).

The Glorious Return of Pheebee

I've had a lot of snide comments pass between my ears. Many of them made their way to my Facebook page. Those were mainly witty quips that could get done in 5 sentences or less. However, some things just require a full page of prose, and that's where the return of pheebee comes in. Yes friends, I'm back -- and hopefully with a vengeance.

Since most of you keep up with me by phone and email, there's no need for a serious review of what's happened in the last 3 months. But, for those of you just joining the party -- and those that need a refresher course, I figured I'd re-visit the characters that make a regular appearance in my book:

Married Martamack, aka MMM, aka Brother. An on again off again unsolicited older sibling who was invited on to the island after we met at my first job (also known as Dante's Inferno). Was kicked off the island a while later for being less supportive and more negative (and for accusing me of interfering in his marriage. An unfounded accusation at that). Has been given a passport for short-term visits, as he's keeping his negativity to himself and is otherwise able to give pretty decent advice (whether or not it's actually solicited).

Kaia. Ride or die girlfriend. A hero for actually having the guts to leave a crappy boring law job to pursue dream of being a famous actress. Also a former regular, now sporadic, partner in crime when out flirting with boys and trying to get free beverages.

The Cashmere Mafia, aka the Mafia. A group of fantastic ladies, mostly of color, with whom I used to kill every Tuesday at Martini Park. The group consisted of lots of chicas, but the main characters were Big Sis (also from my last job), Kaia, and an interior designer whom I don't think ever got a moniker. Our regularly scheduled meetings ended shortly after the big bash Halloween party.

The Young Titan, aka The Titan. A guy I met last football season, shortly before the holidays. Pretty guy, my own real life Calvin Klein model. I had to cut off all communication for about 3 months because I was sick of "just kicking it." As no one will be surprised to here, we're speaking again. My tolerance fluctuates with each passing day, but the peanut gallery seems to think I should give him a chance.

The Engineer. No introduction necessary. A guy with tons of qualities that I love living in perfect harmony in a tall, lithe frame. Said frame is unfortunately employed and living in Seattle.

2DP. Oldest and dearest friend from back home. First guy to turn me down, and I have no intention of letting him forget it. Also best friend and roomie of an ex-boyf of mine. Usually responsible for pervy remarks and overall silliness that keeps pheebee grounded and entertained.

I'm sure there are a bunch that I'm forgetting, but we'll reintroduce them as we go along. Stay tuned for future shenanigans!

Complaints Department

Current Complaints:
1. my job
2. my love life
3. my social life
4. the h'ing penguin
5. the titan
6. the shape i'm in

I don't understand, and if you do, please fill me in -- when, exactly did complaining about something automatically mean you aren't grateful about it? For example, today I was complaining (albeit publicly) about being unhappy at my job. For the most part, I got a lot of support from people in the same or similar positions. One person, (see complaint #4) was extremely vocal in saying that I should be the happiest person in the world but I'm not, blah blah blah I should count my blessings.

Well, excuuuuuuuuuse me! I was having a bad day at work, and I've been questioning my career choice for several months now. Excuse me for not dropping to my knees and being eternally grateful for being unemployed every waking second of every single day. Does the fact that I'm not entirely certain that I love my job -- or even my field, for that matter -- mean that I'm not grateful and full of praise to the Almighty because I am gainfully employed in a position that keeps me in my cute little loft apartment and fantastic shoes? Ugh, nothing like a little righteous self-indignation to set a girl's teeth on edge.

That being said, I can tie this all in to the more entertaining subject of my love life. Basically, aforementioned penguin keeps making random stabs at "trying to get to know" me. Whatever. Each time I talk to him I find my hackles raised. Sort of like walking in the sand with shoes and socks. No matter what you do, you'll keep picking granules of sand out of your shoes. SO ANNOYING! This last gratefulness comment just makes me want to throw him off a bridge...or at least off my island. The definitive answer is absolutely no!

Sniff, Sniff

I smell. In fact, I totally reek. I find myself in unfamiliar territory. I want, desperately want, to be in a relationship. I think I may even want one for the right reasons. Now that, my friends, is exceptionally weird. Most often, I don't want a relationship at all. If the time comes when I want one, then normally I want one out of boredom, or because it's winter and I want someone to snuggle with, or just to pass the time because my friends are all in relationships. While some of that is true, I can't really say that's the true motivation.

No, lately (probably the last month or so), I've been wanting a relationship for all the right reasons. Because I want to have that special someone. It doesn't take a rocket scientist (pun intended) to figure out that my craving for a relationship strictly coincides with the time I've spent with the Engineer.

The second most unfortunate thing, (the first being the Engineer living across the country) is that when the whiff of desperation is on you, a relationship is sure NOT to come. Sooooooooo, what are we gonna do? Well nothing, this feeling has always passed before, it'll be a passing feeling again.

And one other thing? Desperation or no, my standards haven't gone anywhere. And quite honestly, I have yet to find someone I care to spend more than 45 seconds with.

Under Where?

I have declared war on underwear. I HATE wearing underwear. I'm not the biggest fan of going commando either though. So what's a girl to do?

Who decided underwear was necessary anyway? Seriously, what purpose does it serve (aside from the obvious special time of month)? Here's my thing. Some masochist/woman-hater invented the thong. What kind of sane person walks around with floss between the cheeks not on your head? (Or either set of cheeks for that matter.) Floss belongs between teeth, and no where else.

The alternative is the dreaded VPL -- the visible panty line for those of you fashion backwards. Who decided that visible panty lines were such a fashion faux pas? And, even if wasn't a fashion no-no, do I really have to be bothered with wearing full coverage drawers? Ok, I know that they patterns can be quite adorable, but how adorable is it when nobody sees it, AND they're riding up uncomfortably between aforementioned cheeks? ARGH!

Ok, so the moral of the story. How do we banish underwear forever and ever?

Inaccurate Reflection

I'm watching "So You Think You Can Dance." One of the contestants says "I was really confident up until I saw myself on video, now I'm not sure." Deep thoughts from a reality show contestant. I have to day, I totally feel him on that though. Does this ever happen to you? I'm out and about, feeling fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, thanks to my super-friendly bedroom mirror. Then I get to an accurate reflective surface and it's like oh goodness who let me out looking like this?! Frankly, it's not a good feeling.

I hear we humans are quite good at fooling ourselves. When a couple is in love and gets married, they don't update the image of each other 30 years down the road. So, they still see that same glowing fabulous person that they married. Weird huh? And, I heard on the Today Show, that lots of people don't weigh themselves. Those people tend to lose less weight/weigh more. It's as though by not weighing themselves, they can convince themselves that they haven't gained weight.

Oh we humans, we're so very gullible.

HP Update

See that? That's a play on computer/printer updates. Anyway, this is a blog about the humping penguin. Here's what's been happening:

Basically, we had our first date, and he worked my last nerve. Then, he kept working my last nerve. The short version of the story is, I was a total pill and sick of listening to a story that wouldn't end, so in an effort to get him to make a point, I said "land the plane." I fully acknowledge and admit that this was not appropriate first date banter. I even half-apologized after he pointed it out. But, here's where he starts tap dancing on my nerves. He kept repeating it after aforementioned apology. Ok, I deserve it. 5 times in one day, fine. Incidentally, after the date is over, he hugs me goodbye, and I think to myself "Sigh. Not nearly as hard as the Titan -- abs I mean! Get your mind out of the gutter!!!"

Anyway, over the course of the next week or so, I hear/read this phrase over and over again. So, finally I say, let's drop it forever and ever Amen, ok? So, I think this is the end of it. I think wrong, he says it again! I am BEYOND irritated, and I tell him so (albeit in a nice way).

Anyway, we don't have anymore dates. He doesn't ask, and honestly? I don't particularly care. Thereby winning the bet I had with the Engineer, (a bet he squelched on, but that's a story for another day). We do, however, continue to talk, and forge a friendly, networking relationship. he even brings me chocolate (in an attempt to bribe a co-worker into using his web-hosting company).

He even takes me out for beverages for my birthday. Yeah, things get a little strange at that point. He calls me, after said beverages, and makes a ninja-style proclamation. He says that he's failed at every relationship he's ever had, but he wants me in his life always. So, ok, that's...interesting.

Anyway, today, he brought me flowers. He said it was because he'd seen my posting on Facebook wishing that a guy would bring me flowers. And might I mention, that is a GREAT way to start the day. (A day that quickly went downhill, but that's a story for another day too.) So, I called to say thanks, and he asks me to send an email thanking him so his boss could see that this was the way to do business. So, I'm totally cool with that. And then he calls back later, and would you believe the first words out of his mouth are "land the plane"? I swear I could've killed him. Instead, I hung up on him (with warning). Then, I called back and told him that my phone got disconnected. ARRRRGH!

Ok, so the moral of the story, I'm never ever ever gonna date this guy.

Hitched or Ditched

So, I'm watching The CW's new "reality" show "Hitched or Ditched." Ironically, the gay community staged a protest down Halsted as a result of California's narrowly upheld ban on gay marriage.

Anyway, I think this may be my new guilty pleasure show. The basic premise of the show is a couple that's been dating forever gets a free wedding. The catch is that they only get 7 days to decide whether they want to get married. On the last day, at the wedding, everyone is all dolled up, dress is on, ring is picked, cake is baked, and then the couple decides whether or not they'll be married. Unbelievable, right? It's purely craziness. In the first news, it's a couple that's been dating for far too long, and has yet to commit. Both families think it's a bad idea. They've each said that they aren't necessarily sure. As I watch this, the bride is at her bachelorette party, and she totally denies that she's going to get married. The husband decides to go crash the bachelor party. (Idiot). Drama, of course, ensues -- including him throwing a bottle on the floor while being interviewed by camera. No, he didn't throw it at anyone.

He tells the bride that they need to go, and pulls her out of the bar. She tells him that she's not ready to go -- and proceeds to go back in the bar and drink and party more. Good for her! Idiot. Who crashes a bachelorette party?

I can hardly wait for the ending to see what happens. Which only pumps up my interest for future episodes! Hello, guilty pleasure. :)

Cud chewers

Ok, I admit it. I just don't understand why some people believe it's ok to walk around chewing with their mouth open. I'm in 'bux today, and I just couldn't help myself. I was staring. This girl, a little blonde yuppie girl, enjoying her cinnamon swirl coffee cake. WITH HER MOUTH OPEN. Seriously! It wasn't like a my-nose-is-stuffy kind of chew. It was a I-have-no-home-training kind of chew. I don't understand how she doesn't have TMJ with that super hard chewing.

Equally as bad? The ninja. First of all, he's in flat out denial that he chews with his mouth open. But, he also drinks like he's just spent 15 days in the Sahara Desert. NO beverage is that good. Not a tasty 'bux drink, or an adult beverage, or some magically delicious combination of both.

Oddly, it doesn't bother me at all when people talk with their mouth full. I can only assume that this is a result of my enjoyment of lively dinner conversation. Witty banter is a near impossibility if everyone is sitting about chewing politely.

In other news, I nearly called the Titan this weekend because I really wanted a boy to play with for my birthday. I was successful in resisting the urge, given my incredible disgust for feeding a big-headed man's ego. Hopefully my resolve holds out.

In still other, (more important) news, the Engineer will be making another trip east. Which, of course, means that I have between now and then (10 days) to drop all the weight I gained since he last saw me in San Francisco. Note to self: stop eating tasty and delightful things, and start eating icky healthy things.

Motivating factors

See this? This is me writing a blog about nothing instead of doing any sort of packing. Lately, I've noticed my energy being completely zapped without warning or reason. The last time I felt like this, it was a direct result of the sheer magnitude of displeasure for my job. Now, I hardly feel the same way about my current position. Sure, I'm not the biggest fan of my current position. But, it's not so bad that it makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball. On the other hand, I guess I'm not all that enthused about it either.

Anyway, this lack of energy has been extending to my workout regimen. (Enter the feeling of missing the Titan for his obvious motivating energy). Unfortunately, I've only been to the gym once in the past three weeks. Bah! This is terrible because a.) I don't look as cute, and b.) I have a very special visitor coming in 3 weeks. How does one get motivated to drop some weight in 3 weeks so that when a certain engineer arrives into town his jaw hits the ground?

I really need to re-commit to my general goals. Suggestions?

Lactating

So, I decided to go to the gym. Oddly, I went because I assume I want to be a hot mama for the Memorial Day holiday. But honestly? This was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel like I had to go; despite the fact that I have for sure gained weight.

Anyway, this was my first time at the gym in about 3 weeks, give or take. Bad idea to take that kind of time off. Man, my skin was itching like I had poison ivy from the inside. SiQ has informed me that this itchy horrible feeling is the result of lactic acid, and is solved by eating bananas. Unfortunately, I kind of hate bananas.

I must have had enough lactic acid coursing under my skin to give the nearest infant heartburn. (See that? That's why I wanted to write this blog -- just for that one-liner right there. Clever, no?)

I'm going to try to officially jump back on the wagon. Wish me luck!

A country mile

This Sunday, after church, I went to brunch with some friends. Well, my city has this fabulous new policy of requiring everyone to carry an entire freakin' roll of quarters in order to park your car. I, unfortunately, do not have access to a bank vault at the drop of a hat. So, after about 29 minutes, I went to the front of the restaurant to get change. They didn't have any. And thus started my adventure on a country mile.

Next, I went to the concierge desk of the hotel next door, to ask for quarters. Nope, no quarters there either. They sent me to yet another restaurant. Nope, no quarters there either. So, I start debating with myself whether to risk a ticket, or just suck it up and pay to park in a structure. On my way to the car, (a $50 ticket is just not worth the $7 I'd save), I spot a cop car. I'm a little bit irritated with the city, so I decide to be snotty with the cop. I ask him if he has quarters. Would you believe he gave me $1.25? So, that's only enough for like 6 minutes, so I tell him never mind, I'll just move my car. He totally gives me the green light to not worry about getting a ticket. He's, apparently, the beat cop on the street. Although he noticeably didn't ask which car was mine. He does, however, offer me a ride back to the restaurant.

Well, I'm wearing heeled shoes, and I'm parked about 2 blocks away. Heck yeah, I take the ride. He first offers me a ride in the back, which causes me to raise an eyebrow. Instead, he lets me ride up front. When we got to the restaurant, he asks me who I'm meeting. When I tell him that I'm meeting girlfriends, he slips me his number.

I get back to my seat, and the girls ask where in the dickens I've been, one girl asked "did you walk a country mile?!" Well no, I didn't. I got a ride for a two block walk :).

Day late, dollar short

I haven't blogged in forever. And yes, quite a bit has happened. But I said to myself, "pheebee, does anyone even read?"

And then I started getting scolded over and over and over again. So, here I am, updating you!

First, let's start with the Titan. It's just as good as any place to start. As it turns out, my tolerance for pretty without substance has gotten longer, but only slightly. Rather than three months, he made it about 4.5. The week before it was over, I talked to him on the phone. It was a Saturday. All day Friday, I hyped myself up to end it. I totally declared it to about 3 different people. Then, when I spoke to him, I punked out. I know, shame on me, right? Instead, exploited a comment that he made (about how I needed to show up in the relationship. Excuse me? He hadn't seen me in 3 weeks at this point, and I needed to show up? Pah!) Anyway, I suggested that maybe we should take a break. He got all puppy dog big eyed on me (yes on the phone, you know the whimpering whiny voice), and convinced me to "have a talk" before taking a break. His reason? He didn't want to get used to not having me around. (Pah!)

Ok, so I tell him I'm going to call him on Sunday for aforementioned talk. And he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer for the entire day. Nor does he call on Monday. So what do I do? I text him on Monday evening and tell him that I couldn't take it anymore. And he proceeds to break it off via text message, saying he never got over the DC trip. What the heck? Well, my pride is hurt, and I'm really irritated that he brought up D.C. again. So I decide to test my theory of how he's so much like the Ninja. Turns out, just as easily manipulated. So we have a text messaging war, and he asks if we can talk on Tuesday while I'm at work.

Let's fast forward ahead to the end of the week. He comes over on Saturday, ostensibly to have the "talk". I say I'm pretty much done with the hanging out portion of the relationship. He says he isn't mentally ready for a relationship. I say I don't want a relationship today, but I want to know whether or not it's in the realm of possibility. Yup, he basically wants to keep hanging out. So I end it. He hangs around the apartment, throwing out every topic he can think of to stall. Finally he leaves. I'm sad, I mope and mourn for three days, and then I'm done.

Now here's the screwy part. Almost 2 weeks later, he calls me at work. Say what? So, I'm all kinds of confused when I answer the phone. And he's all cheery. He wants to see me before going to Rio. Say what? I ask him what for. Frankly, I think that he's just trying to get a little break-up make out before going to Rio, but why? Rio is the land of gettin' it on with hot Brazilian babes. What does he need me for? Anyway, I had plans everyday before he left. In the midst of the conversation, I say something about how we'd ended it. His response -- and, incidentally, the source of my current confusion: "well, we didn't really end it. We just took your advice and took a break."

What? I've never had anyone deny a break up. Any explanations? Haven't heard from him since he got back from Rio. But if the Ninja is any indication, this probably isn't the last of it. Of course, if the Ninja is any indication, I should probably not be talking/blogging/thinking of him, because that's when they tend to pop up.

Homophobic

Ok, so normally I make fun of people who are homophobic. Frankly, I think it takes some serious arrogance to be so full of yourself (as a straight person) that you think all gay people are trying to hit on you. usually, this is only applicable to men, but you get my point. My favorite source of homophobia is often the gym locker room. To hear a straight man tell it, every guy in the locker room that isn't straight is ogling their locker room-mates the way an eagle eyes its prey. I usually erupt into a fit of giggles at this point. Seriously? Those gay men aren't impressed with you.

Anyway, recent conversations have revealed that the Titan is even more homophobic than the typical black man. I think it's in a black man's DNA to be at least somewhat homophobic.

All this backstory for this: I was at the gym today and after cardio class I needed to take a shower. (My shower is under construction). Anyway, as I walked into the shower, an older Asian woman was standing in the shower, bathing, WITH THE DOOR OPEN. Ok, I'm all fine and good if you are pro-nakedness. That's cool. But why are you showering with the door open?!!? Anyway, I choose to ignore this, and proceed to a shower in the corner, close to the wall. As I'm standing there, taking out my shower cap, I hear (but don't turn to look at) her walk out of the shower and in my general direction. Ok, fine, do what you do. I could see that there was a bag of shower stuff hanging on a hook, she probably needed shampoo or what have you. And then I hear "Oh! Excuse me..." In a "gee, I hope you brought a big hammer!" kind of way. (Insert the bow chica wow wow music here). My first thought is "how can you possibly be surprised. Pheebee is a nice caramel-chocolatey color, standing in front of a gray wall. It's not like I blended in. So, I turn to ("d'oh! she's still naked!") and say that's ok. And she reaches into the bag to get whatever the heck she needs. And then she walks (I hear, not see) back to the shower. I assume she leaves the shower open.

Ok, all of this is a little disconcerting. I spend the next 15 minutes in my shower stall WITH THE DOOR CLOSED, wondering if there is a system in the girls locker room too? Have I unwittingly been propositioned the way the good Senator Larry Craig of Minnesota (allegedly) propositioned some dude in the airport bathroom? My fears are only intensified when I hear her flip flopping back to the wall (and incidentally, near my stall) and feel cold USED water droplets on my shoulder. I assume she shook her wet hair out or something. But, excuse me, please keep your cold wet and USED water to yourself and out of my stall, thank you. Then I say to myself, hmm, perhaps the older Asian lady is after a nice piece of caramelly chocolatey pheebee. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Well, I did manage to leave the shower without incident. But I definitely wrapped the towel a twee bit tighter around myself. Honestly! I'm cool with being hit on by a chick or what have you. But can we keep the naked propositioning to ourselves? Thanks.

This whole line of thought, and subsequent posting, really gives me a twee bit of empathy for the homophobics out there. They are still completely ridiculous. But, I guess I'll have to take a little bit of the skepticism out of my eyebrow arch the next time I hear some straight guy whine about the gay men in their locker room. But only a little bit...

Gentleman Friend

Question of the day. What makes a guy your boyfriend? At what point are you "official"? Is a "talk" or declaration required? Among my friends and the Mafia, we can't agree. For me, once I am exclusively dating someone, that person is automatically my boyfriend. For other friends of mine, exclusively dating is separate and distinct from boyfriend. In fact, only those worthy of "meeting the parents" are boyfriends. So when does it happen?

SiQ and some other friends have begun referring to the Titan as my boyfriend. Mostly they do it just to get under my skin. But, SiQ argued that he and I are all but dating exclusively (as far as we know), and have been doing so for quite some time. But I tell her and others that we have not had a discussion about exclusivity. Therefore, we are technically allowed to date other people. In fact, not that long ago, I considered going out with the Humping Penguin. HP was making a full court press for about a day -- make that a morning -- but he never followed through. Technically, I could've gone out with him.

Then, of course, there is the Engineer. My current date to the international madwoman's wedding. Right now, the Engineer isn't in the Titan's consciousness. The Titan has no right to know, since we aren't exclusive. All the exclusive talk will do is force me to mention the Engineer and the convoluted mess that spans across three time zones. How is that good for anybody?

So, my official stance on the boyfriend question is that a "talk" must be had. Until such time that we talk, I am a swingin' single baby!

It Girl Out

So, I have finally used up the last of my perks from when I was the It Girl. On Sunday, I used my gift card to the fancy schmancy shoe store.

Officially, I have purchased the most expensive shoes I've ever owned (boots notwithstanding). Grant it, I didn't pay full price out of my own pocket. But, I was hesitant to buy them anyway. Something about spending that kind of money on a pair of shoes that I will likely wear maybe 4 times just seems outrageous. For the record, they were $130 + tax. I had a gift card for $100 and then a $10 frequent shopper discount. (No, I'm not a frequent shopper, but they gave it to me anyway).

But here's the thing. People spend this kind of money on shoes all the time. Grant you, they are super cute. But why oh why are you spending $130 on a single pair of platform hot pink sandals? Admittedly, they are super comfortable. Maybe if they turn out to be as comfortable as tennis shoes, I'll figure out why they're worth $130.

Weight Watchers, Schmeight Watchers

Ok, so I was all for setting an attainable weight loss goal. For those of you keeping track, the goal was 2 lbs a month from January to September-ish. I was a gym bunny, right-eating, machine. It's been roughly 6 weeks, and I am SICK of it. I am exhausted, and really tired of the gym. I've managed to skip two scheduled days this week, and still take the usual 1 day off. Normally, I feel horrible about this. All kinds of bad about myself and all that jazz. This time, I don't feel anything but content. It's odd, but it's as though I got really burned out really fast. I'm not sure what that means.

One of my usual motivators was seeing results. And my past few weeks of serious gym bunnyness and weight watchers-ing has been pretty good to me. In fact, it makes me think that my goal is actually attainable. Except, I don't care to bother getting there. I'm wondering if maybe I need to cut down from 5 days to 4 days. On the other hand, I wonder if I cut down to 4 days, if I will eventually excuse myself from going at all?

Oh, as a side note. They say that when you skip breakfast, you actually end up snacking more during the day. Well, I will raise my hand to that one. Today, I intended on eating a protein plate from Starbucks (I know, it's overpriced and I could totally make it myself, but I have yet to remember to purchase the requisite ingredients when I am at the market). Anyway, my friendly local Starbucks was all out. So, I had no granola bar and no protein plate. I spent the rest of my day in search of snacks. Fortunately it was too cold to bother going outside to forage. I can't guarantee that I won't be late-night snacking on some unearned popcorn though!

Raise Your Right Hand

DeBeers had an ad campaign for a while that had a tag line that said "Ladies, raise your right hand." The gist of the ad was that you're saving your left ring finger for the rock that the love of your life buys you. But, as a modern superwoman, what's keeping you from beautifying your right hand? I took this to heart, given my abysmal dating history.

I've been planning to get myself this ring since I got my first job. Well, I am on my second job, and still no new and fabulous right hand ring. Well, when I was in Boston, I saw the most fantastic right hand ring. It was $1800. Naturally, I left it in Boston. But it was black and white diamonds, set in white gold. It was some serious bling. But it was "understated bling" as kd. called it. (See it here). Well, when I got back home, I googled it, and I found the store's website, where it had been marked down to $1200. Nope, still can't afford it. Then, I checked it again with the intention of emailing it to my mom, and it was marked down to $906.50. Still can't afford it, RATS! So, I figure, maybe I can find a jeweler to make it more cheaply. I call the jewelry store up in Madison that used to design jewelry. I emailed them a picture, and they said they could definitely make it. But it would cost $1500, since they would use quality diamonds. (The one in the picture uses a lower quality diamond and metal. Something I wouldn't have even bothered to look at if he hadn't said something).

Well, the sale ended before $900 managed to appear in my account, so I still don't own the ring. But, I have officially decided that I will get myself a fantastic right hand ring made by the jeweler in Madison by my birthday. I have even called the jeweler and made plans to make plans. This, my friends, is an official declaration of a goal. Ready, start saving!

Pet Mountain

While in Boston, kd. asked me about my love life. Mainly to avoid telling me why she won't get with this young cutie in her arch school. Anyway, she asked me all the important details (i.e. what does he look like). When I told her about the titan, her reaction was "that's not a Titan, that's your own pet mountain!" A reaction which was awesome and hilarious! That may be his new psuedo-nickname. He'll always be the titan, but secretly he'll be my pet mountain.

Anyway, just after I got back from Boston, my pet mountain asked me to be a basketball wife. Let me explain. The second week after I got back, I texted him to say that we needed to get together and talk and such. I didn't exactly tell him that it was going to be a "Talk," but that is essentially what I'd planned on. I was seriously considering kicking him off the island. But, his response was to ask me to come to a basketball camp and watch him play. I figured, and island-council members agreed, that there was no way I could screw with his game by telling him everything I'd planned to tell him.

Good thing I didn't say anything. He wasn't just playing a game. He was going to what was essentially a tryout for a basketball team in Mexico. I found myself sitting on the bleachers with all the other friends, families, and basketball wives. I was definitely a basketball wife that day. We were there for a solid 4.5 hours. Yikes. I had a nice pounding headache too, because one basketball wife let her brat fake cry for the first 2 hours. And just let him do it. I wanted to choke her for letting him, and then scream at him to just shut up.

As it turns out, we ended up having the Talk (part 1) on the way back from the basketball camp. He brought it up, because he said he'd sensed things had changed. So, I told him that I was having problems, because the Ninja-esque qualities were starting to bug me. I told him almost everything that was bothering me. Basically, I want to see some A game. None of this C and D game nonsense. I sort of expected things to end shortly after the conversation. He shocked me though. He agreed that we had some problems, but he actually said "pheebee, I think that whatever differences we have, we can work them out."

Then, the next day, we had the Talk (part 2). He told me the things about me that bug him. Essentially he wants me to be more of the nurturing type of woman. I told him I can do that, but usually only after a guy makes me feel like a princess. We'll see if it actually happense. Unfortunately, I left for Boston about 3 days later, so no chance for him to prove himself. Although, while I was in Boston, he promised me a make-up Valentine's day. I'm still waiting for that to happen, and it's been a week. But, I'm trying to give the man the benefit of the doubt; I only saw him briefly since I've gotten back, so no need to start sabotaging it yet.

Travelocity

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually tired of travelling. Crazy, huh? I realized this when I was travelling to Boston. I was in Boston for an ABA Conference as part of my plan to take over the world. But, while I was there, I realized that I wasn't in the mood to do much sightseeing. Nor did I want to go to all of the important places that a person goes to when visiting the city. All I wanted to do was lay about in my hotel room. (Of course, I didn't do any of these things).

I finally met up with my friend from college, kd. She took me to all of the important places, like Quincy Market, the Little Italy neighborhood, the Freedom Trail, Boston Public Library, and Trinity Church. (I know I said I'd post pictures here, but I figured you'd rather have a post than wait for me to actually put some pictures up.)

We also had a little adventure attempting to get me some good New England Clam Chowder -- because one does not go to New England and not eat clam chowder. So what happened, you ask? Well, kd. had heard about this resto that had the best. clam chowder. EVER. Unfortunately, when we got there, it was not open for lunch service. Bummer. But, we were told to head two doors down to a different resto, they would have the 2nd best clam chowder. So we walk through the connected hotel (as a side note, you can seriously walk 6 miles and never go outside in Boston. Maybe it was just where I was, but I swear all the buildings were connected). Anyway, as we walk through the hotel, we ask the desk clerk a good place for clam chowder. He both suggests the aforementioned resto next door, and then calls the concierge who makes the same recommendation.

So, we get to the resto, and no clam chowder! It's not even on the menu. So, kd. is about to gnaw her arm off, therefore we decided to go ahead and eat anyway, and save the clam chowder for dinner. I order a tasty and delicious burger, with barbecue sauce on the side. Tasty and delicious right? The waitress raises her eyebrown when I asked for the barbecue sauce. So, I repeat myself, thinking she was confused about the "on the side" portion of my request. No, that ain't it. She says, "we don't carry barbecue sauce." Say, what?! How are you a restaurant and don't have barbecue sauce? I am speechless and confounded at this point. It is here where I am officially done with Boston. Not because of one resto, mind you. But because this is, apparently common! I talk about it for the entire day, and kd. random people on the street, waiters, hotel staff, all agree that this is normal. In fact, instead of outrage the first reaction I got was usually "did they carry ribs?" WHAT?! Please tell me what one has to do with the other? Argh!

Otherwise, Boston was neat. I had fun finally seeing kd. And I always enjoy being in a new city. And I have resumed laying seeds to take over the world. Oh! And the hotel where we stayed was connected to the greatest mall ever. Have you ever seen a stand-alone Jimmy Choo store down the hall from a stand-alone Charles David store? AND Louis Vuitton store? I haven't! It was an awesome mall.

Gettin' off the couch

Ok then. Tons of things to update. What to start with? How about the new gig. Basically, I have rejoined the world of productive society. Yee haw! Actually, I am not yee-haw-ing at all. What's all of this nonsense about working being apart of sense of self and all of that nonsense? Are you kidding me?! The most awesome thing in the world was laying upside down on my couch and getting paid to do so. So many people reminded me of how I'd get bored, and how slow it would be. Well, to that I say, PAH! I miss my Steve Wilkos, my Dr. Phil, my various Judge shows. Bastidos.

Anyway, the job itself is good. I am enjoying learning a new area of the law. I'm dabbling in employment law a bit, and the silly and ridiculous things that people do at work are bound to be entertaining. And, I'm finally dealing in business law, which is what I went to law school for in the first place. And, given that no one was going to keep paying me to sit on my couch, I guess it's just as well that I found someone to pay me. (Although the jury is still out on the people there).

Whoa!

Ok, ok. I fully acknowledge my complete lack of ability to post in a timely fashion. But much has been going on, and I've been caught up in something resembling a whirlwind. However, my dear friends, I promise on pheebee's intended book that I will be posting before the end of the weekend. This weekend is my official catch-up-on-shi-thangs weekend, and blogging is right up there. In fact, I plan to use it as a way to procrastinate and avoid doing other things that I should be doing. (Cleaning, laundry, etc.) So! Here is my official declaration to actually put something down on virtual paper by the end of the weekend. I promise! (Who knows, there may even be pictures :}).

History, unplugged

I went to a history lesson on Tuesday, January 20, 2o09. It was AMAZING. There are no words to describe how awesome it was to be there. I went with 2 other members of the mafia, Amethyst and Mary Jane. We stayed with my law school big sister. Anyway, enough background, on to the good stuff.

We arrived late Monday night, and hurried to get ourselves in bed after eating round pizza in a square box. We set our cell phones to go off at 3:45 a.m. Thankfully, when it went off, our hostess told us that 4:30 may be too early to get there, since the gates weren't opening until 9:00 a.m. So, we re-set the alarm for 6:00. Well, we turn on the television when we get up at 6, and what do we see? People wandering about on the National Mall. Crap! So we shift into turbo gear and haul arse out of the apartment. On the way to the Metro, we stop at Rite Aid and get various provisions for the journey. Now, statisticians had used the number of people predicted to show up, and the ratio of port-a-potties to people was 1:300. that's right. 300 people for every 1 port-a-pottie. Yikes. So, there were no liquids bought for pheebee, outside of one shot of 5 hour energy drink. Mary Jane and Amethyst both bought some V8 and Powerbars. I stuck with the yummy trail mix that my mommy packed me. Our hostess was the big spender with bagel and juice.

So, we jumped on the Metro at approximately 7:00 a.m. Any self-respecting eL rider would've been unimpressed with the crowd on the Metro. Those not from NYC or the Chi really found the Metro completely crowded and claustrophobic. Those used to it were cracking jokes about levitation. We also nominated ourselves in charge of getting people off when it came town. (Loudly proclaiming "COMING OFF!!!") We were thanked with shoving of gratitude. Upon arrival to the Federal Center station, we separated from our hostess because she had a ticket. We followed the herd to the nearest open spot on 14th & Independence. It took about an hour and a half to get there. (It was .9 miles away -- I just google mapped it). We arrived at our ultimate spot with a good angle on a monitor around 10:15 or 10:30. On the way there, we purchased hand-warmers (and were promptly ripped off too). Amethyst was especially hurt by this because she bought a pack of handwarmers and toewarmers and left them back home.

The crowd was peaceful, and friendly. To keep warm we started doing -- in a group with perfect strangers -- calisthenics, tae-bo, and (my favorite), the cha-cha slide. As the crowd started to swell, and people were getting colder, there were people who would get agitated. Immediately, someone would step in and remind the agitator that today was not the day. We were here for history. We all froze together, watching Mr. Obama take the oath of office. Of course, there were people around with no home training (including a guy who stood on his folding lawn chair). Mary Jane got pushed off the curb by a really big guy who lost his spot. But, we endured to see his hand on the Bible. For me, the most powerful momentn was when all 2 million people, at the direction of the preacher giving the invocation, said the Lord's Prayer in their own native tongue, at the same time. 2 million people saying one prayer was incredible. Plain and simple.

And then it was time to go. We all turned to the back, moved a couple yards, and then stopped and stood. Something, somewhere, was blocking. So, a guy who had climbed a tree to watch, started telling us that we all needed to move right. Hilariously, people started yelling "right! move right! RIGHT! MOVE RIGHT!" You could hear it as the rumor started moving through the crowd. Incidentally, during this process, someone muttered "as his first presidential order of business, I want Obama to get us all out of here." We all giggled around him. I told him that this wasn't Malcolm X. He couldn't just put his hand up and point. (If you haven't seen the movie with Denzel, then you should go rent it so you can get that joke).

Anyway, 2.5 hours later, we finally got on a train. We were all whiny and grouchy, but it was totally worth it. We stopped at a restaurant near the Metro station, and ran up our bill ordering coffee and Baileys (2 each -- we were really cold!). We also discovered the joys of putting the still hot hand warmer under our bra straps and in our waist bands. Ahhhh, warmth. We then headed back to our hostess' apartment (she still had to work at a reception held by the Congresswoman she works for). And then we watched the inauguration on t.v. HA!

All in all, I WAS THERE!

Clash of the Titans

Ok, so before I left for a lesson in history, I was supposed to see the titan. We made plans on Thursday to see each other on Friday. On Friday, he called me on his way to the gym, as usual. He'd gotten off of work early, so I asked him if he was still planning to be ready at 8:30, or if he would be earlier. His response? "Oh, actually, I was planning to watch the Bulls game with D, and so I was thinking about closer to 10:00, 10:30." To which I said, jigga-what?

Let's review the circumstances here. He hadn't seen me in a week. I was going to be out of town for a week. This is the beginning of basketball season. This was a Bulls game against the Cavs. And he's a CELTICS fan. So, basically, I got blown off to watch a non-important, soon-to-be-repeated basketball game with your boy that you see all the time?! Oh h--- naw!

Needless to say, I was really ticked. So, I ignore his text (notice he didn't' call at 830, he texted). Then I ignore his text that came through at 10:30 -- presumably after the game. He finally calls about 15 minutes later, and is all in a tizzy because it's not like me to ignore his text messages. So I tell him I was far too angry to answer his text messages for the aforementioned reasons. So he starts playing the victim, which only serves to make me more angry. He says that D was going through some things, and having problems, and needed a friend, and he was just being a good friend, but he guesses that he "was being punished for being a good friend". So I say, you didn't tell me ANY of this before. All I was told was that he was going to watch a stupid basketball game. Had I known, I may have been more flexible. His response? That he didn't know how bad it was until he got there. This, of course, only served to prove my point that he was only going to watch a basketball game that had no importance.

*Sigh*. He's making it so hard to keep him on the island. I really want to. When he's around, he's an exceptionally nice guy and fun to be around. But I don't know how much longer I can handle his laziness. I keep telling people that I'm not sure it's fair of me to vote him off the island without giving him an opportunity to remedy the situation. And I figure he isn't used to girls wanting more from him than looking pretty and showing up. But, I've always been one to say that it doesn't say Coach on my jacket. I'm pretty sure it still doesn't, but I did just buy a new coat. Maybe it's there...?

Rear Wheel No-Drive

As we all know, I love my car. But, word to the wise, if you live in the snow-belt, don't buy a car in the middle of the summer. (Although I didn't go in completely naive. I asked around about driving a rear-wheel drive car in snow, and was assured that while it's a hassle, rear-wheel drive has come a long way and therefore shouldn't be an issue. HA! Jokes on me).

Yesterday, after hounding my parking landlord (not to be confused with the owner of my condo) he finally did some shoveling. Yeah, you read that right. He actually used a shovel, as opposed to a snowblower. At any rate, I knew my car wouldn't move before the snow in the lot was removed. After he was done, I hopped in my car to go to the grocery store.

And then, my car got stuck in the alley. Awesome. So I wander into my building to get a shovel, and the maintenance guy is standing there. I tell him -- in passing -- that my car was stuck AGAIN. This is the same guy that pushed me out along with a neighbor last time. He offered to come outside and have a look. And then he pushed me out (alone this time). As it turns out, he had a Camaro back in the day, and got rid of it after 3 years because it kept getting stuck, even after having sandbags and such in the car.

Anyway, I was kind of concerned that I wouldn't be able to get back into my parking spot, but there was an impending blizzard and I needed to go to the grocery store. So off I went. I also stopped at Target and enjoyed it immensely. (It's a shame this isn't a shopping post, because I did some visual damage at Target!).

When it came time to get back into my spot, I started praying before I even got to the unplowed alley. And....I got stuck. AGAIN. Fantastic. Even though I'd just purchased a gift card for the maintenance guy in the building, I really REALLY didn't want to impose on him again. Instead, I went to the business on the other side of the fence from my parking spot -- where my parking sticker had been kept. I asked, pleaded really, if someone could please please help me move my car from the middle of the alley. The guy at the front desk cheerfully agreed to help, telling me how the very same thing had happened to him. As he's pushing, a neighbor of mine (totally separate from the two that helped me before Christmas) was driving up, and offered to give me a push. She also offered a story about how she used to have the same problems with her old car, despite having sandbags and the like in her car. She also mentioned that she used to carry kitty litter in her car for traction (I may have to try that). Now, we've got 2 people pushing on my car as its wheels spin 'round and 'round like a top. A third neighbor is walking through the alley and notices all of the huffing and puffing going on. He walks over and says, "hey, need some help?" Proceeds to put his cigarette in his mouth and PUUUUUUUUUUUSH! And voila! I'm in my spot.

Moral of the story? My next car will be a heavy, front-wheel drive or four-wheel drive car. I say now. As much as I love my car that I'm thinking of getting another one when it's time to upgrade.

I seriously think I need to do something for my guardian angels, although I don't know which units the other 2 live in. I was thinking cookies. But then, on the other hand, I was thinking that maybe I should be sensitive to folks' new year's resolutions. At any rate, suggestions anyone?

Time, redefined

My mother likes to quote my 8th grade history table when referring to me. Evidently during a parent-teacher conference Mr. Hoffman told my mother that I seemed overly busy. (Which was totally true. Dance, viola, piano, cheerleading -if memory serves). But, he said, "if you want something done, ask the overly busy person." I fully buy into this theory. I find that the more I have to do, the more efficient I am.

Which brings me to my current blissfully and temporarily unemployed state. I can get one thing per day done. Seriously! I am completely incapable of doing anything productive these days. Something about having nothing to do turns me into a lazy bum. Normally, I feel quite bad about this. These days? Not an ounce of guilt. The only thing I'm not a big fan about is that I find no where to go during my final week of vacation. I'd like to go somewhere tropical and warm. Too bad I gots me no one to go with.

Maybe that should be my project for tomorrow. Find somewhere tropical and warm to go to, and someone to go with. :)

What women want

Frankly, I don't know what women want. But I know what I want. At least I think I do. One thing I know I want -- in a man, that is -- I want a southern man's gentility with a northern man's modern ideals. Basically, I want a man that wants to take care of me, but doesn't feel like he HAS to.

What brought this on, you ask? Well, allow me to explain. The young titan and I have been dating since before Thanksgiving. And for those of you keeping track, you know that is an exceptionally long time, given my track record. But, it appears we've run into a few things that are starting to bother me. First, he almost never pays for anything. Ever. So far, he's paid for the first date (kind of). I offered to pay for the one beverage that I had, but I didn't have cash and it'd have to go on my card. His response? Not "I got it." No, his response was "it's not worth it to ask her to split it for $7. I'll get this one, and you can get the next." Arrgh? But, I hate to be a golddigger, and he's pretty, so we press on.

Second, I asked him if he would help push my car out if it got stuck (as it notoriously does in the winter.) He said he would, and even commented that it would be a good workout. Well, when I called to ask for his assistance, he whined that he was in traffic and wouldn't be able to get to my apartment in time. Ok, seriously? Seriously?! Arrgh!

And third -- and most recent -- I asked him if he would lift my old television out of my cabinet (because I bought myself a bomb tv). He said he would, enthusiastically. I called on Saturday to ask him if he'd do it Sunday before my little shindig. He hemmed and hawed, and said that he wasn't sure if he could do it because he had a basketball game. So I said, can't you stop before the game? Given that he had 2 hours between when I got out of church and when he wanted to be at the court. And lifting my tv out would take all of what? 35 seconds. And yet, he couldn't do that. Moreover, I didn't hear hide nor tail from this dude all day on Sunday. Arrgh, again!

Someone may be getting voted off the island soon.