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.

25 is a big number

I have a friend who sent around an email of a new year's suggestion. What she suggests is making a list of 25 accomplishments for the year and 25 goals for the year. It's the same premise of writing new year's resolutions, but far more involved and introspective. So far, I have one of each written. Accomplishment #1: not cursing anybody out at work, even though they clearly deserved it. Goal #1: raising my salary to it's former level either via a raise or via commission.

And that's all I have so far. 25 is such a big number! I mean, obviously, I'll have weight goals and weight accomplishments, because I constantly obsess over my size. But other than that??! No idea. Ok, that's not entirely true. I have an idea. But where am I supposed to come up with 25 goals and accomplishments? I'm not even sure which is more difficult. Probably accomplishments. I've heard that a lot of women have trouble tooting their own horn. I am not one of these women. i am quite capable of mentioning my fabulousness. But, I do have trouble being proud of things that should just be. For example. I make my bed everyday, and generally keep my house neat. It's always a goal of mine to do that; but it's really hard to consider that an accomplishment. I'm supposed to keep my house neat! That's why there's a gazillion cleaning products on the market. No credit for what you're s'posed to do anyway. At least, I don't think so. Hmmmm. Maybe my next goal should be giving myself credit even if the thing I'm doing seems minor. Does that count?!

Joys of the Season

Tis the season to be jolly. Fa la la la la laaaaaaa la la la la! I haven't been this cheerful since I first found out that I was laid off. Hooray unemployment! Ok, obviously being unemployed is not awesome. But being unemployed with the knowledge that you have a new job lined up is awesome! For the next five weeks, I will be sitting upside down on my couch loving the fact that I don't have to go to work. What will you be doing?!

One of the mafia members told me that when everything gets turned upside down, that's God opening doors and windows in your life to allow great things to happen. For me, it was getting laid off. It was all part of my grandmaster plan...or at least, the plan I was hoping that would happen. First I'd have to get laid off (check). And then I'd get a severance package (check). And then I'd find a new job (check). Which paid me way more than my former job (...). Ok, so 3 out of 4 not bad. Especially given the current economy.

I got a surprise when my life was flipped. That surprise was the young titan. He's turning out to be quite a pleasant addition to the island. Sure, there are things that I'm not so big on. Like that whole Super Hater situation. And the fact that he is more than a foot taller than me. Seriously, when someone is 15-17 inches taller than you, that's pure comedy. Sometimes I get a crick in my neck talking to him. But, neither of those are good reasons to kick him off the island. Or even send him in front of the panel.

Anyway, life is good, and I am filled with joy and sunshine and rainbows. Hooray now!

Swag Bag

I've been known to refer to various guys as pretty handbags. Most notably the Ninja and Snowflake. Basically, these are men who I could take anywhere, just like a pretty handbag. They looked good, go everywhere, and hold money. (I added the hold money part mostly for sheer entertainment value).

Anyway, when I first met the Young Titan, I thought he was a pretty handbag. When I met him, he was wearing sweatpants and a Titans jersey. He seemed a bit dim, and I wasn't sure we had anything in common. But, quite honestly, I didn't care. He was fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. I assumed he'd be nice to have around temporarily, but it wouldn't likely lead anywhere.

Well, he's proven to be a handbag filled with goodies. (Although money isn't necessarily one of the goodies). He has proven to be a meathead, but the kind of meathead that reads about it first. And he is constantly surprising me with things he knows. And he's been quite perceptive about various things too. I find myself talking to him for super long periods of time. All that and he is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Given the total package-ness of Mr. Young Titan, I find myself worried for myself. I'm guessing that he is going to get away with all kinds of things, just because of everything he brings to the table. He told me the other day that he couldn't believe my Ex broke it off. Quite frankly, I can't figure out why anyone would ever break up with him either. Note to self, ask him what that woman said she was thinking. Hmm, could the Young Titan be the antidote to the Engineer?

Super Hater

As a general rule, I don't deal with haters in my dating life. Which is why I was so blindsided by the Super Hater a couple weeks ago. Here's what happened:

The Young Titan and I met up to watch some football at a local bar. He arrived about an hour earlier than I did, because I was a domestic-errand machine. I was supposed to get there by 2nd quarter, which I did. When I got there, he told me that he saw a girl from the gym, and she was going to stop over and say hi. So, I'm totally cool with this, and plus, he said she was really fit -- so I wanted to see how fit and possibly ask her how she did it. (I never got around to asking).

Anyway, when she stopped by, she did have a nice body, but nothing to be intimidated about. And she had a short Rihanna haircut. For the most part, I paid her no mind. I was busy watching my boys start strong (and ultimately lose, but that's par for the course this season). She stayed and talked for a while. I can say that I wasn't really listening. She left for a minute, and then came back. When she came back, she sat down and picked up his phone. He has the iPhone, so totally normal. In exchange, he picked up her phone. Which is exactly what happened when I picked up his phone. She went ahead and started looking through his photos. And kept showing me pictures of his ex. Gee thanks. When she got up again, he had gone to the bar or washroom or something. She says to me "he thinks he's slick, putting his number in my phone. He doesn't know I've been doing that since I was 15." So I'm like, jigga what? Excuse me, we're not exclusive at all, but can you not get your mack on in front of me?

So, she leaves again. And comes back. I notice that everytime she comes around, he stops being all over me. Which, if she hadn't said what she said, I would've thought was nice because no one wants to feel like a third wheel. But she did say it, so I started to think that he was being sketchy.

Later on, after one of her leave and come back cycles, they begin arguing about the Young Titan's height. She doesn't believe that he's actually 6'5". She tells him to stand up and close his eyes, which he does. She proceeds to pretend to kiss his nipples. I am stunned.

But wait, there's more. She, once again, leaves and comes back. The Titan and I make plans to meet up in about 45 minutes. When she gets back, we're putting on our coats. She turns to him and asks "are you dropping her off?" I'm like what? Then I see her lean in and say something and pull on his sweatpants. Then she turned to me and says "We're watching t.v. later, and I told him it's not a hookup so he doesn't have to change clothes."

At this point, I'm figuring out that she's a Super Hater, and he is not sketchy. At least, I don't think he is. As we leave the bar, he tells me that he has no idea what she says. I repeat what she says to me, and a look of confusion clouds his face. He says, "I have plans with you! And if you didn't want to do anything, then I'm going home to play Madden." Super Hater strikes again!

Slight sketchiness did occur later in the night. We were supposed to meet up about 30 minutes later, but I don't hear from him for about 90 minutes. He says he couldn't find his phone. Which I find odd. But, given that he has a track record of reliability, I let it go. And agree to meet up with him, if for no other reason than to block the Super Hater.

I kind of hope that I run into her again. So I can totally snub her. How awesome would that be?!

Update

I admit it, I've fallen off the blogosphere. But here I am to officially catch you up. A lot has gone down, which is why I've totally failed to write about it. So, here goes:

First, I got laid off, we found out on November 14. I must say, it was not an awesome process. Half of our office was laid off that day; and they did it one by one. It was brutal. I was second to last. It was pretty terrible and depressing. Anyway, my last day is December 19. Honestly? We all know how I felt about this job. And we all knew that the best case scenario would be for me to get laid off and/or fired, and then get a severance package, and look for a job while they pay me. So, hooray parts a and b of the grandmaster plan going through.

Second, I interviewed with a great firm twice prior to the layoff. And then they went out of the country without giving me a job. And so I was a teensy bit panicked, but not really. First, as we all know, I stand by faith. I'm not gonna lie, it got uber hard sometimes. Second, the interviews that I had went very well. So, when they got back from Romania, they wanted to see me for a third time, but it took them FOREVER to schedule that time. I finally had that third interview, and they offered me a job. Hooray! I haven't accepted yet, because I want to make a counteroffer -- but even if they reject my counteroffer, I think we all know that I'll be taking what they've offered. I mean really? It's more of what I want to do, it's a great place, and I like the people. So let's not be silly.

Third, there's a new guy on the island. Remember the young titan? I wasn't sure he'd last very long, but he's hanging around the island. At first, I thought he was totally lying about his background (former player for a SEC school, former player in an international league, etc.). Although none of that has been verified, he hasn't stumbled as though lying. So although I have no proof, I don't have any proof that he's lying either. He has officially earned the benefit of the doubt. Then i thought maybe he wasn't the crispest dollar in the billfold. I was wrong about that too. I think the reason I thought he was a step behind was because I forget how quickly I change subjects on a person. It can be disconcerting if you don't know me very well. Now that it's been a few weeks, I think he's getting used to my synaptic misfires. Oh, and did I mention he is possibly the most gorgeous man I've ever dated?

Fourth, the Engineer is making another trip to the great Midwest. His company needs him to go to Cincinnati, and so he's going to have a layover here in the Chi. Good times. That should happen next week. Much to the chagrin of my mother, who wanted him to be around on NYE. Well, in his defense, he's choosing to come when someone else is buying the ticket. I can't say that I blame him for that.

Oh, and I almost forgot. I tried out for another dance team a couple weeks ago. Once again, I made it to finals. Once again, the veterans thought I worked it. Once again, I couldn't take it all the way. This time, I got the opportunity to ask why. Do you know what the answer was? I wasn't cheerleaderish enough. Seriously? Not cheerleaderish enough? What does that even mean? Oh well. It was fun for that week. I was not at all bummed about it, I gotta say. It was going to be a colossal pain in the neck for me to get to practice twice a week. They practiced and performed in a suburb about 45 min away. Twice a week for practice plus a game? Goo, that'd be a whole lot of time in my car for 4 minutes of glory.

Sanity

As you know, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result is defined as insanity. But what is it when you do the same thing over and over again, fully expecting the same unpleasant result? My guess? The definition is stupidity.

I'm speaking, of course, of my ridiculously repetitive relationship with the engineer. (Alliteration not intended, but impressive nonetheless). Here's the thing. Our relationship is more or less the exact same way that it was around this time 20 months ago. When we talk, it's easily for 45 minutes or more. And it's easy conversation. We make each other laugh, we impress each other with our intelligence, blah blah blah. There's just one minor change; this time, we acknowledge that we're attracted to each other in a romantic way. But, despite that minor change, I fully expect that a few months from now, he is going to meet a girl. And then he is going to date her, sweep her off her feet, and she will demand (albeit fairly) that he choose between me and her. And I fully expect him to choose her. Again. And while this time, he might not be so harsh about it, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he'll choose her. And rightly so. She'll probably sleep with him. Which, of course, I wouldn't do even if there wasn't 3/4ths of the country between us. And, equally as importantly, she'll live in the same city.

So, like I said. I think the definition might be stupidity. Ridiculousness. Fill in the blank, go ahead, I'll wait.

In other news, I met a pretty handbag the other day. Click here for an articulate definition of a handbag. Hilariously, I wasn't entirely certain of his name. Or that he'd actually call. But he did. And I found out his name. For now, we'll call him the Young Titan. More on him later -- i.e. when I figure out if he actually stays on the island long enough to warrant a blog posting.

Not that there's anything wrong with that

Ok, there's a chick at the gym who most likely thinks I'm gay. Which is fine, except for the fact that I'm not actually a lesbian. The thing is, she has the exact physique that I want. She's approximately my height, and has the tiny and fit compact body that I want. Her chest is way bigger, but I've never been a I-wish-I-had-a-bigger-chest kind of girl. Honestly, I kind of enjoy being a member of the itty bitty committee. I enjoy going without *ahem* support when I'm just not in the mood.

Anyhoo, back to the girl who probably thinks I'm lusting after her. The thing is, I'm really not. (And if I was, I wouldn't want her knowing it because I'm sure she knows she's cute and I really am not the type to feed an ego.) But I just want to put her in the interrogation room and depose her on her fitness and eating habits. I mean seriously! How did she get that body?! The exercises I see her doing don't really seem to be that hard. Maybe she just works out for waaaay longer than I do. Hmmm. Maybe she's got way more money than I do and can therefore afford a permanent trainer. Whatever she's doing, can you let a sistah know?!

Head of State (HNIC)

So, it is my tradition to watch either The American President or Head of State or both prior to the election. This year I didn't, so I'm watching Head of State now. Quite honestly, it's still hilarious. But, it is stunning to me that this movie was supposed to take place in 2004, and Mays Gilliam (Chris Rock) won the election. At that time, it was a great satire on the state of America. I especially loved the absurdity of the movie's premise. Really?! A relatively unknown, black man as president, beating out a war hero? PAH!

And now I stand, four years later, in complete awe of Mr. Fantastic, aka Barack Obama. I echo a comment I heard from a professor on The Today Show. I underestimated white people in America. Despite the fact that I truly believed that the Democrats could've run a hamster and still should've won, I was not totally convinced that the yuppies of America would actually vote for a African American. I wasn't really concerned about the racist, KKK members of the country. Honestly? They weren't likely to vote for Democrats anyway. But, I was convinced that there were white people everywhere, who said they were Obama supporters, but only because it was what a good yuppie liberal should say. Then, I figured when they got into the booth, curtain around them, they would find themselves unable to actually pull the lever for a black man. Well white people, y'all proved me wrong. And might I say, good work.

No, I'm not convinced that race in America is officially a nonissue. But, I am in awe that it is less of an issue than I thought. I love it. I've found myself high on life since Monday. I think the euphoria may last forever. God bless America!

So, we've got our plane tickets for DC on January 19-23. Are you in to watch history continue?

Year of the Gentleman

Ne-Yo has a new album out, titled Year of the Gentlemen. He is getting quite a bit of buzz for several of the songs on this album. Part of the publicity found its way into my favorite commuter newspaper by way of an interview with Ne-Yo. The interview was all about Ne-Yo's classic Rat-Pack-esq sense of style. In his (humble) opinion, he believes a mans suit should create the male hourglass. What most people call the "V" shape.

I gotta say, I completely agree with Ne-Yo and I appreciate his sense of style. For those who don't really follow R&B, his sense of style is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra. Fedora, cocked to the side, a nice suit, tie, and wingtips. Insert sigh here. I wish more men dressed like Ne-Yo.

Obviously, I don't expect men to wear a suit all the time. I just love a man that's put together well. There's nothing like a man in a nice pair of jeans, fashion tennis shoes, and a well fitting tshirt. Insert another sigh here. Where are the men that dress like that??

For the record, the hot restaurant manager had a nice flair. And, by the way, he emailed me twice(!) asking for the address of the party. I'm wondering if he is perhaps a little frantic about it. But he said he's bringing friends. We just won't tell him that it's my friends house. For all he knows, it's a man's house. :)

Wow

So, a fellow mafia member and I followed up church with brunch. We went to a neat little place in the south loop. (A neat little neighborhood second only to my own). Normally, this wouldn't be news. Ok, given my need to share ridiculous details about my life, it probably is news. Anyway, the reason why I'm mentioning it is because we saw a most gorgeous man.

He was a caramelly colored brotha, with light eyes, a low cut fade, and most importantly, has the style of Fonzworth Bentley. The outfit started with a nice pair of wool (I think) flat front trousers, a french blue button down shirt, a reddish patterned tie, and a heather gray sweater. The chocolate brown blazer was lovely also -- although that ended up coming off.

As it turns out, he worked at the cute little resto. He was clearly a manager, but, I'm not entirely certain what that means at this restaurant. Clearly, being a manager at Taco Bell is different than being a manager at a 5 star restaurant. He could be anywhere to a part-timer to a huge deal.

None of that is really important at the moment though. At this point, I just consider him yummy eye candy. Feeling bold, I called him over to tell him he looked fantastic. (That was before we finished eating.) And he told us that he was the new manager, blah blah blah. His teeth were so pretty, and his eyes so fantastic that I really wasn't listening. Anyway, after we finished eating, I called him over again to slip him my cell phone number. I did it with the pretext of inviting him to our Halloween party. In order to not endure the pain of the fact that he has a girlfriend, I told him to bring his guy friends and girl friends. (Secretly hoping that he had a lot of guy friends that look like him, and no girl friends). We'll see what happens...stay tuned.

Synchronicity

In one of the many many chick lits that I've read, there was a term used for what I'm having these days. "Synchronicity." Basically, it's when everything seems to be going your way. "Coming up Milhouse" as was said on the Simpsons. (If you caught that reference then you, like me, watch reruns way too often.)

At any rate, my life seems to be going wonderfully right now. Yesterday, I was rushing home to watch the final debate, and I managed to catch a bus just as I was coming out of the eL. I only missed 40 minutes. Hooray!

Today, I had an interview with the principle of a firm. She got my resume through about 4 degrees of separation. She told me that they weren't even hiring. They have the space, she said, but they really weren't seriously looking -- but just considering it. Then, she said, that when she gets the resume and meets someone wonderful, she doesn't want to miss out on the opportunity. (Insert gigantic smile here). Hooray!

Then, I started a dance class at my gym this evening. It was a great class, and I love the teaching style. The jury is still out on whether or not I like the choreography. But the teacher flat out said that she doesn't do turns. Yes! My horribly embarrassing lack of ability to spin will not be revealed. She told us that if she notices someone who is really good, then that person will be trying out for her dance team. And she will make that person audition different things. And then after class, I told her (conversationally while waiting for my receipt) that I was using this class to decide whether or not I was retiring my dance shoes. She turned to the girl that was making the class list and said 'oh she's not retiring.' And then turned to me and said, 'you're totally trying out for my dance team.' Hooray!

So, I'm enjoying the current string of blessings. I can definitely hear my mother and my auntie saying "We told you so...God's time, not your own time." But for the record, I never said patience was my virtue. I'm an impatient saint, ok? We all have our flaws, right?

A small taste

I've been given a small taste of the good life. Last week I purchased a fabulous coat from the Michael Kors Outlet. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it! Seriously, the coat itself is fabulous. But more importantly, it looks fabulous on me! Arrogance aside, I really like how it feels on. And, I like how I feel in it.

Something about the "high-end" fashions have changed my opinion. I used to think that the name-brand fashions were mostly just paying for labels. I still feel that way, but I'm changing. There's something to be said for wearing a $300 coat....of course, there's a lot more to be said when you're wearing a $300 coat that you totally stole from the outlet store for no where near that price.

Ultimately, maybe it isn't that I am changing my mind about brands. I think I've actually always liked them. But what I truly like are clothes that fit fabulously, make me feel fabulous, AND I got at an awesome deal on. Phew! And I was worried that I'd become a brand whore. ;)

Haus Frau

Lately, for the last two weeks really, I've been excessively tired. Before, it was a part of the general insomnia I was suffering from. Some of that was also due to the constant muscle pain in my shoulder. Now, I'm finding myself completely without motivation. I haven't been to the gym in about 2 weeks. (Actually, I'm not even sure of that. I can't remember for sure when the last time was. I know it was a Saturday -- I just don't remember which).

Anyway, it's strange. My usual motivational cues aren't working. As we all know, my body image is a twee bit off kilter. So, I'm usually the first one to start watching what I eat and hitting the gym immediately after losing some tone. But these days? I care, but I can't seem to find the motivation to do anything about it.

So, another motivation for me was trying out to be a pro-cheerleader again. As you may recall, last year that was enough to get me to the gym regularly, hire a personal trainer, etc. This time? Nope. If I don't make the team...d'ah well.

Of course, there was the possibility of meeting my future husband and/or going out on the weekends. But, as the temperature declines, the odds of me going out are also declining. Furthermore, my aforementioned total lack of motivation really doesn't lend itself to going out. I just don't have the energy for it.

I guess for now, just call me the haus frau. Because I really don't care to do much else.

Accidental Date

Yeah, ok. I know I say this all the time; but I found myself on a date again. And by found, I mean it was unintentional. Basically, what happened is this: There's this dude that used to work at Medleh a couple floors down in my office building. As it turns out, he has the same name as the Danka guy. I discovered this a couple weeks ago when I saw him on the street near the building. Anyway, he asked for my business card so we could keep in touch. I honestly didn't think much of it. I mean, he works with a lot of law firms, sooooo I figured it was plain old networking.

Anyway, he emailed me last week, and said do you want to do lunch? I said yes, thinking it was the Danka guy. And then I realized it was the Medleh guy. But whatever. We get to the resto, and I had already ordered online. And then he paid. Wait, what? He paid? Oh crap. This is a date isn't it? Bastidos! And that, my friends, is how one finds oneself on an accidental date. Neat huh?

In case you were wondering, I am not that into him. He's officially not my type. He'd make an excellent platonic friend. But as far as romanticism goes, I will pass. Blech!

iPod addiction

The other day in the newspaper, I was reading an article about Blackberry addiction. Would you believe there is actually a group, similar to Alcoholics Anonymous for people addicted to their Blackberry devices, smartphones, etc? I found myself chuckling about the article, until I got to the end.

One of the indications of addiction was taking your handheld device to bed with you. Of the people they interviewed, I believe a good 40% (it's been a while since I read the article) stated that they would rather take their handheld device to bed with them over their spouse.

Well, like I said, i thought the article was hilarious. And then I realized that I definitely take my iPod touch with me to bed. It sits on my nightstand every night. It's one of the last things I look at when I go to bed. And then it's the first thing I check when I wake up.

No need to schedule an intervention yet. I didn't have any of the other addictive habits. Phew!

Get me to the ball on time.

The Green Tie Ball is an event held every year in Chicago. It's a fundraiser to raise money for the Gateway Green project. That's the group in charge of finding people to clean up the highways.

Anyway, I went this year. I've been pretty pumped up about it for a while, because it gave me an awesome excuse to wear the fabulous brown silk dress I found a few years ago. Unfortunately for me, I forgot to bring it back from Milwaukee over Labor Day. I considered having my mom mail it, but I decided I may as well go and get it on Saturday so I could have my hair done fabulously. I picked up a couple riders along the way, namely SiQ and another friend who wanted to hitch a ride. All of this seemed perfectly benign.

Well, that was before the heavens opened up. The rain began on Friday afternoon. And continued through Sunday. Saturday morning began normally enough. My friend met me at my place around 10:15 a.m. We hop onto the freeway, and promptly run into traffic at the normal spot. It's moving at a snail's pace, but it ALWAYS moves at a snails pace. Or so I thought. And then I realized that this snail was nearly dead...and we'd moved at a pace of roughly 6 miles an hour. We were literally in the car about 90 minutes and had barely gotten out of the city. And then we were forced off the freeway due to closure. You read that right. The freeway was CLOSED.

Well, this is the information age. So I call SiQ and ask her to re-route us via the internet. (Especially important since there were no detour signs.) But, just as she was finding a route (of sorts), the next freeway entrance was open. So we get on the freeway, thinking we can make up time. Boy were we wrong. We were forced off the freeway AGAIN. We spent the next 2 hours driving through various suburbs searching for a way to the highway.

As a lucky break, I happened to take a road that ran through the forest preserve. And it happened to run into a street I recognized; which led me to the highway. Meanwhile, it's still raining. I finally get to the SiQ's house, pick her up. Get to the WI state border, no rain and no traffic. GAH. So, I finally get to my destination - 5 HOURS AFTER LEAVING MY APARTMENT.

After all of that, I asked my dad to drop off the dress at the beauty shop. I was seriously freaking out. But, the good news was, the freeway was re-opened. I got back to my apartment within 2 hours of leaving.

The ball was great. The dress fit perfectly (it had better -- after 7 hours of travel I was going to make it fit). I even managed to get us into VIP -- basically, I found 2 pins and scammed 2 other ones from some guy - volunteers. :) Just like last time though, another girl was in my dress in a different color. Unlike last time, she was way skinnier than me. :\

Repeat

Ahhhhhhhhh! That's the sound of the mental screaming I was doing at the eL station today. Picture, a transfer point on the eL. September 2008. Approximately 455 p.m. There I am, looking in my fabulous Kate Spade bag for my transit card. I look up, to open the glass door. And there...in the reflection...the old guy from the eL a few weeks ago. (Insert expletive here).

So, then I thought I was a goner, but he had to get a transit card from the machine. So, I thought I'd escaped him, until I remembered that his whole opportunity for hitting on me in the first place arose from the fact that we rode the same line. But then, I thought I was saved because as I reached the top of the steps, there was my train arriving. And given that he was way behind me buying a card, I thought it officially ok to breathe a sigh of relief. Not! Not only did he make it onto the train, he ended up on the same blasted car.

Needless to say, it was an incredibly uncomfortable ride since I had to face one direction the entire time. But, I did manage to avoid eye contact (and giving him a full view of my face). So, he didn't get the chance to see or talk to me. (Insert phew! here).

You're Out.

Ok, as I've mentioned, I've become a total national convention junkie. Well, as much as I can with basic t.v. Anyway, I've established 5 reasons why the Gentlelady from Alaska cannot become VP:

1. Track
2. Bristol
3. Willow
4. Piper
5. Trig.

These are her children's names. Really? REALLY? Who in the devil names their children after pharmaceutical companies? And who names their son Track or Trig? Seriously!? This clearly shows a complete and utter lack of common sense, if not a total lack of judgment.

So, in the words of Heidi Klum...You're Out.

Political Par-tay

I'd originally intended on blogging on the history recently made by one Mr. Barack Obama. (Can you think of anyone more fantastic right now? Because I can't). But then, I found myself distracted by some high quality shenanigans going on in the Republican party, that I am moved to comment on. Here's that comment: PAH HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ok, so what we're saying is, John McCain chose a woman who was (a) a runner-up in the Miss Alaska pageant in the late 80s, (b) younger than Mr. Obama, (c) has only been governor for 20 months, and (d) has a pregnant 17 year old daughter.

PAH HAHAHAHA. This, my friends, is pure comedy. You have a right-wing hardcore card carrying NRA type, who is pro-life, anti-abortion, and pro-abstinence-only education. And this, is who the distinguished senator from AZ chooses to run with him? Just because she's a woman with youthful energy? This is his answer to the unstoppable, half-man half-amazing Mr. Obama?

Tell me, this is not hilarious. That's right, you can't.
What's next Mr. McCain? Cody Diablo as Secretary of Health and Human Services? Perhaps Superhead (the Video Vixen) as Head of FEMA?

Oooh, That's Deep

So today, at the weekly Cashmere Mafia meeting, we were counseling a member on how she should not not NOT feel bad about this guy who was a total prick. We were discussing the two modes of thinking. Some of us were on her side, namely that you feel that you have a duty to tell these dues why, exactly, they are so blinkin' bogus. The other faction believes once you screw up, we check out and you're done.

Personally, I fall into the former category. I feel it is my duty, and my privilege, to tell a guy why you are so blinkin' bogus. And that got me to thinking. Maybe that's the real reason why the engineer got an invitation to Chicago...and made it back on the island, for that matter. I attempted to be a member of the latter category. He screwed up HUGELY. But I never took the chance to tell him how badly he screwed up. Instead, he screwed up, I walked away. But, I obsessed for 18 months about how much he sucked...and how dare he treat me that way. Now, I'm given the chance to tell him, and I find myself dragging my feet. I've fallen back into "the way we were." This, is bad. The desire to tell someone about themselves is not a good reason to allow them back on the island.

But, after extending the invitation, can you really shut it down? And, if my feelings were originally that strong, should I turn my back on it? Ooooh, that is sooo deep.

Back to Olympus

At the risk of sounding like a terrorist, are the Olympics still on?!!? Seriously!! I can't believe how long the Olympics have been interrupting regular programming. I feel like it's been on for months and months and months. Even when I was little, the only sports I really cared about were gymnastics and the sprinting events of track & field. Now that I have an obscenely early bedtime, I can't even watch those events since they're almost always shown live. So, I respectfully request that in 2012, they put the Olympics on one of those nifty digital stations, and I'll go ahead and tune in when I feel like it. I know you can do it!

Avoidance is not Closure

So, I bet you're all wondering how the weekend with the Engineer was. Well, it was great! Lots of fun doing tons of stuff. I started it off with a bang, by taking him to the Signature Lounge on the 96th Floor of the John Hancock. The view up there is awesome, by the way. Then, the next 3 days were as filled with as much as I could find to do, with the exception of Monday, when I was put on house arrest by the Engineer since I was deathly sick with the Plague.

Anyway, the sad part about the weekend is that I failed to actually address the elephants in the room. Namely, how super bogus he was a year and a half ago (longer now). And second, what this trip will lead to for the future. Contrary to popular belief, I have a rational reason for not really pushing the conversation. Shortly after his arrival, I realized that I could either treat this weekend like a fun summer fling; or, I could address all of the aforementioned issues and add some unnecessary tension to the weekend. I chose to go with option a. Reason being, he just bought a condo out west. I have less than zero intentions of moving out there. And by virtue of purchasing a condo, he has essentially made the statement that he's not moving here. So, in the end, why bother pressing the issue?

Now, I have friends (SiQ, 2DP) who are opposed to the Engineer generally. And friends who, after grudgingly accepting the visit, will be opposed to the fact that I pressed no issues (SiQ, Kaia). Sooo, what we've learned is, I am completely defiant in the face of the island cabinet.

At any rate, that's all I got for ya, without giving you a detailed schedule. And that would not make for such an interesting blog. Anyway, I thought that the results would be far more interesting. All in all, a great summer fling weekend.

A Quickie Post

My psychic powers can sometimes be very gratifying. And sometimes quite upsetting. Today, I think they fall into the upsetting category. In my last post, I ended it with the dire premonition that there was the possibility that I would not hear back from my Blair Underwood. Funny, I did hear back from him, but it was only via text, and it was on Friday. "Hey pretty lady. How's your day going?" Or some such thing. Which would be totally sweet and adorable had it not been the only non-responsive communication. In other words, he responded to my email about the storm (we just had a giant one here on Tues), but didn't bother to call otherwise. Frankly, I'm incredibly confused. I mean, after a 7 hour date, don't you call? Or, ask for another date? Am I being blown off? And if so, can I get an explanation?

Grant it, after 1 date, I don't necessarily deserve an explanation. But it'd be nice to have one. Of course, part of me assumes this is the universe's way of getting back at me for the way I abruptly ended it with J.R. (the short old guy). But, on the other hand, at least I gave him an explanation.

In other news, while I'd totally prefer to go out with him again (especially given the total amnesia he gave me with regard to the Engineer), I can't say that I'm entirely that pressed. Yes, I would totally heart going out with him again. Yes, he is uber hot. No, I'm not planning to cry over it. In fact, I was on the eL today, calculating how much time I should let pass before deleting his number, when I realized I really could just delete it now. The unfortunate part is that if he were to call or text again, I'd likely not have a clue who he was, because unlike Snowflake, I didn't memorize his number by default.

D'ah well. As someone told me, it might be just as well. With the imminent arrival of the Engineer, perhaps now is not the best time to become totally smitten with Blair Underwood. On the other hand, Blair Underwood's masterful first date lifted my haze with regards to the Engineer's shenanigans, and helped me cool my original nonsense. This trip, though allegedly filled with potential, has been relegated to summer fling. I mean really? Can I truly get smitten with a guy who a.) cannot use a post office and b.) ticked me off to the point of speechlessness? I should send Blair Underwood a thank-you text for that. Too bad I refuse to set a precedent of always contacting him first.

My Blair Underwood

Did you ever notice that sexy Blair Underwood is often playing a character that seems so great on paper, but in the end the girl picks a significantly less awesome guy? Well, I'm wondering if perhaps I met my own personal Blair Underwood.

As you all know, I went out on a date on Saturday. It was a fantastic date. We went to see Too White Crew and then we went to eat Indian food at a fantastic little restaurant near my apartment. After dinner, which was filled with tons of lively conversation, he walked me back to my apartment. My original intent was to take my food out of our shared to-go bag, and then see him on his way. Well, we ended up sitting on my incredibly comfy couch, and engaging in more lively discussion. Then, we eventually fell into comfortable, cuddly quiet. And then, it was 7 hours after our date started. So, I drove him home (with regrets).

But now, as I look back, I'm not as excited as I should be. Most likely it's because he told me that he just got out of a 4 year relationship. Ahem, 2 months ago! Gah! I'm pretty sure I've been relegated to the rebound of the closest thing to perfect guy. Bummer. We'll see how it goes though, because I'm all over the 2nd date. That is, if he ever bothers to ask. :\

Maneater

I've decided go bring out the player card for the weekend. As usual, it happened unintentionally. But I'm in a go-with-the-flow kinda mood, so I figured what the heck.

Recently, there was a surprise re-emergence of Snowflake. Remember him? He left the island in favor of his ex-girlfriend's island. Evidently, the grass wasn't greener on the new island. (That's a hilarious statement because he actually said that.) Anyway, here's how it went down. On Monday, I got a text from Snowflake saying that he was in my 'hood and wanted to see what was shakin'. So I told him nada mucho other than the visit by a former rebound guy. (Didn't omit that, it just wasn't an exciting story.) So, while waiting for the rebound and his gf to arrive, Snowflake invited himself over to my place. I invited him out, but he politely declined. (He said he declined because he didn't want to have the rebound sizing me up. I suspect it was actually because he didn't want to look like he was on a date in spite of his gf; you know, the one that lives in Indy?)

Anyway, on his way out the door, he said that if I have any other concerts I need a backup for, he was down. As it turns out, I did have a concert at my fave bar coming up. (It's so awesome to have connections.) So, we're going out on Friday. Yes, that's the day before the date with the frat. Niiiiiiiiiiiice.

AND, there's my newly acquired skill of getting me and my girls into various clubs and bars without a cover. At this point, I'm even starting to impress myself. I guess it's a gift. :)

3 Votes against

That's what I hate about the SiQ. She never expresses her opinion. NOT. Ok, so the SiQ has voiced her vote and veto for the upcoming visit from a certain engineer. Sad to say, she is not alone. The Ex has voted against, and 2dp has voted against. Basically, everyone who has been my friend for the longest has voted against. What does this tell us?

Well, it tells us that I am capable of going against the peanut gallery. It also tells us that the peanut gallery often gives votes without being asked. And it tells us that I'm going to have a rather interesting weekend. Let's just hope it doesn't end in I told you so's.

In other news, there is a potential challenger on the island. He was invited onto the island last Saturday at a frat barbecue. He will henceforth be known as "Frat." At any rate, he has so far proven to be smart (book and street), handsome (goes without saying), and a total smart aleck. Also, he appears to be nice and also funny. I'll keep you posted.

Claiming the victory

I would like to make an announcement. I have found a job that I think will be perfect for me with a corporation that I think I would enjoy looking for. A wonderful lady that I met a couple months ago reviewed my resume for me, to help make myself more marketable. I have made all kinds of calls to get an "in". And now, I've applied. All I need now, is the job. Let's just go ahead and add that to the prayer circle, shall we? Thanks.

In other news, I have a teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy announcement to make. A certain engineer may or may not be coming to visit. And he may or may not be arriving in 3 weeks. And that may or may not have been against the veto of one SiQ. But, in spite of the veto, I'm pretty pumped up about it.
Good times!

The Dog ate my Blog

OK OK OK. Quit hounding me! (Pun totally intended). I have been MIA for quite some time. But really? Not all that much has happened. (Total lie). But I'd been all kinds of slacking because I was fairly certain that no one was reading. And then I got scolded (twice). So here we are, back to blogging.

So here is my re-inaugural witty observation for the day. Commonwealth Edison must be out of its corporate mind. OR hugely into subtle irony. ComEd, like other companies, is attempting to go green, and prove its green-ess through various advertisements about town. And I am completely on board with that. Especially if a company actually follows through with its green promises.

But what I saw from the train the other day was pure comedy. ComEd has been putting up signs and billboards around town to advertise how to save electricity. Yes, awesome, I totally support that. BUT, one of the billboards was...wait for it...backlit! HA. You put up a lit-up billboard touting all of the great ways to save on electricity in order to save the Earth. Thereby wasting a ton of unnecessary energy. AWESOME. HA!

Black Flight

Quick question. Has anyone else noticed that all of the black characters are leaving network television? Can anyone tell me why? First, Jesse Martin from L&O (the original). Then the cutie mixed guy from one of the CSI shows. And Khandi Alexander from CSI: Miami. And wasn't the black guy from Lost killed off? Did I miss a memo? Is there a mission to methodically homogenize network television? Or are white people just more commercially viable? Don't answer that. I think I already know the answer.

Shame on you girlie

Ok. I am officially going on record as being a part of the problem in terms of the women's movement. Today, I was told that martamack's partners had my res, but had yet to do anything about it. Then he told me that one of them thought I was more than average looking. (Seriously, it wasn't in those words, but the way he put it I sounded like something this side of a girl next door). Anyway, so I decided to do some mathematics in my head. I'm heading to court tomorrow, in front of aforementioned partners who are currently interviewing, and I made the absolutely CONSCIOUS decision to wear a skirt suit rather than a pants suit tomorrow. Seriously. I'm actually going to play the womanly wiles card. Whether I'm successful or unsuccessful I have no idea. But the point is, I actually considered it fair game to try it. Yeah, I know. Shameful. And yet, I am totally and completely unapologetic about it.

News and Updates

Bet you're wondering how my date went with Marshall, my top secret date with my co-worker's son. Well, here it is.

We met up for drinks near downtown. But for the fact that he's got 2 girls and 2 kids, it would've been a high quality date. Conversation was not bad. While I was able to shock him, he was not so bad at keeping up with my snarky comments. Sadly, my good times plan of dropping my knowledge bomb was thwarted...he already knew that I knew.

But, alas, he has reached the upper echelon of player-status. Despite the fact that he knew that I knew about the two girlfriends and the ex-wife, he still treated it like a closed sale on a 2nd date. It was a flat out date for him, and he was darn confident that he'd get another one. In fact, he has officially taken the crown of the most arrogant person I know.

As we all know, pheebee enjoys a bold guy. Making the decision on granting another date completely conflicting. I enjoyed the date on a superficial level, but I really am not interested in becoming girl Tuesday, aka girl #3 -- that we know of.

My friend has a theory that the reason I kinda like the idea of going out with Marshall again is knowing that I have absolutely no responsibility to try and make it work with him. Nor do I have to actually see him all that often. I'm starting to sense a theme with all of my friends. Ah well!

Sad and Exasperated

As the It Girl, I was awarded a fabulous gift certificate for a pricey romantic dinner at a local restaurant. The certificate expires in 18 days. I have to find a love interest in 18 days. This, my friends, is what sucks about my life. I have no one to take to this dinner. Wait, let me rephrase. I have a variety of friends who would be willing to go. SiQ may be in town by then, and Kaia is always down to go out. But, I tire of constantly taking women where I should be taking men. Just once, I'd like to have a nice boy to do things with.

Sure, I asked Snowflake. But he, not surprisingly, has flaked. Actually, he has permanently flaked. As it turns out, he's come to the conclusion that he's not getting any from me (some people are slower than others). So, he's pretty much stopped returning my phone calls, and mostly blowing me off. Believe it or not, I'm less bothered by that than the fact that I can't invite him to places as a backup date.

And, there's always the Ninja, but as he's ticked me off for the for real, honestly, no more pretend, actually and truly last time, I can't ask him. And there's the guy who is aiding me raise my sketchiness quotient. I could take him, but he wouldn't properly appreciate it. AND, I'm positive he would read more into it than the intent. And, before you ask, yes I asked the soon to be only a mere visitor on the island, IM Boyf. And he said he'd go. But I don't think he'll make it to the Chi before the expiration date.

So what have we learned? I do not get the playette of the year award after all.

America's Pasttime

Is there a more loathsome mainstream professional sport on the planet than baseball? I defy you to find one. The sport has no redeeming quality at all. I've never liked baseball, but living in the Chi has turned my simple dislike into all out hate. I've spent the past 10 minutes watching the bottom of the 9th. For the past 10 minutes, the same dude has been at bat. He's hit at least 34 fouls, AND the count was full. In other words, I'm pretty sure the pitcher threw to this guy at least 90 times. That doesn't include the tosses to first base in attempt to keep the guy on first base from stealing second. That's 10 minutes of my life that I will never EVER get back.

And then, on top of all that, the players aren't even pretty to look at. For the most part, they are unattractive and overweight. Please give me one good reason to watch this sport. I beg of you. If I can't appreciate the "action" (and I use that term loosely); and I can't drool over the pretty boys, then why am I watching? This is the part where I remind myself that I have the power to change the channel. *Phew*.

Genius Award of the Day

Yesterday, I got the genius award of the day. Why you ask? Because I am a genius!

Yesterday I had to drive to an arbitration to lay some smack down. After laying the smack down, I (unfortunately) had to go back to the office. Lucky me, the parking structure wasn't full! Hooray! So, off I pull into the parking structure and secure a spot. I turn off the car, throw my keys in my purse, open the door, and hit the automatic lock. And then I think to myself, "hmm...that's odd. I never do that. But I guess it's ok, I specifically remember putting the car keys in my purse. It would suck to lock my keys in the car, but I know I'll have my purse with me." (I'm not exaggerating, I literally thought that because I have a special paranoia about locking my keys in my car).

Anyway, I get out of the car and take out the shoes I'm going to walk to the office in. For the record, I totally deserve what I get because I was only changing shoes so that I could wear my Charles David black-patent-leather stilettos to lunch with Martamack. Anyway, as I'm changing into my tennis shoes, I hear the door slam behind me. (Insert expletive here). Then I think to myself, "maybe I left the window open." Followed by "I never leave my windows down." I walk over to the other side of the car, and of course, the window is secured and up. (Insert expletive here.)

How did I get into my car after all? Well, I am quite resourceful, that's how! And by resourceful, I mean that I called Martamack and begged him to help. Thank goodness he had his car in the city. (Sadly, he's going to hold this over my head for months, I can feel it.) And then the adventure began. I spent my lunch hour going to Kaia's new job in Wrigleyville. Then I went to Kaia's apartment to get my spare apartment keys out of her purse. (Getting a wee bit lost on the way). Then I took her apartment keys back to her at her job. Then we went to my apartment to get my spare car keys. Nearly 90 minutes later I'm back at my car, getting out my bags, leaving the shoes, and going back to the office. At this point, all I've had to eat is an apple. So I stop at CVS for a quick Lean Cuisine, and see my boss standing in line. (Blast!) So I boldly walk up to him and tell him the story; at which point he promptly calls me a knucklehead. (Good, he doesn't seem to blame me, or notice that I was gone for 90 minutes). And that's how I got the genius award of the day.

Sketchy McSketcherson

Duuuuude. I've upped the sketchy quotient a notch. Here's what happened:

So, my co-worker has a son who is pretty attractive. But he's also out of my age range, and has 2 kids, and is recently divorced. None of this really mattered though, because the odds of me ever meeting him were slim to none. So really, the only reason to ever discuss him was to laugh at his antics with his 2 girlfriends. Oh, and I told my co-worker to set me up with him so that he could take me on a cruise the way he did one of his girlfriends late last year. (The reason this was funny is because a bunch of family members went, and the girlfriend was mostly a whiny wet blanket. I told my co-worker that if they took me, I'd be loads of fun, and really wouldn't care what he did or with whom. Basically I just wanted the free trip -- you know me!)

So, all of that background for this: He stopped by the office because he was in the neighborhood. And my co-worker brought him around to meet all of us. So when they got to my office, I asked her if she'd told him about the cruise plan. She hadn't, so we told him then and there. After he walked away, I arrogantly said to myself "bet he asks her for my phone number -- or comes back and asks me." (Yeah, I can't believe my arrogance either!) But get this, later that night, I definitely got an email from him telling me to call him. (Unbelievable, right?).

I email him back, and tell him that I'll get back to him in a couple days. He slips it in the next email that he didn't tell his mom that he'd emailed me. Which honestly is fine with me because this is seriously not going anywhere. And it'd be wicked awkward to tell her I'm dating her son. (Yikes). Anyway, I never called. I figured why bother. I don't do so well with players, kids, or the older gentleman.

But here's the shocking part. He actually called me! Just the other day, which is roughly a week later. I never would have thought he'd call. I mean for one, I said I'd call him and didn't. And for two, based on what his mom says, he's quite the player. Since when do player's put forth so much effort? Anyway, he was quite bold and asked me when we were going out for lunch. I was quite sassy (because that's what players drive me to be). So now I have to be all secretive about my upcoming lunch date. (That means you too readers! Keep your collective yappers shut!)

Short story long, we're going to lunch. And I've officially raised my sketchiness quotient. Aye pheebee!

Horoscope

According to my horoscope, I'm commitment-shy. I would like to categorically disagree with this. I enjoy the idea of commitment greatly. I like the idea of having someone to spend an entire day in bed with. Of course, maybe that's just because I enjoy cuddling, and thus far have been unable to find a pet that I can cuddle with without risking asthma. Shout out to Gigi! But, what I don't particularly relish is the idea of committing myself who isn't the GREATEST. BOYFRIEND. EVER.

According to my ex, the Ninja, I want someone who's perfect. Well excuse me, it's not that he has to be perfect. He just has to be perfect for me. I'm not entirely clear on why that's too much to ask for. But that really does explain why we're soooooooooo NOT getting back together.

This does leave me to wonder where aforementioned greatest boyfriend ever might be found. I can pretty much guarantee that he's not making it very easy to find him. Hmm...maybe people (and my horoscope) think I have a commitment problem because I'm not so diligent in my search? D'ah well. Just add it to my list of things to do.

Score, Schmore

This is the gist of Brother's theory on my ACT score. The conversation went like this:

MMM: So you got a what on your ACT?
pheebee: A such and such.
MMM: And you got a full ride to law school?
pheebee: Yes.
MMM: At that pretty good law school?
pheebee: Yes.
MMM: Ok, either those scores and scholarships are not tied in the least to intelligence...OR you are the biggest. liar. EVER.

He was referring to my somewhat questionable actions when it comes to my love life (or lack thereof). I don't think it's fair to make that assumption. I mean intellect, I'm all over that...often. But, love life? PAH! I have little to no experience.

On the other hand, maybe it's just MMM being wrong as usual. Later on in the conversation, he told me I was going to be single and alone forever. Nice isn't he?

Silencing the Peanut Gallery

Yeah right. That title is really in reference to wishful thinking...sort of. I enjoy the peanut gallery. But lately, the peanut gallery has been yammering about IM Boyf. For some reason, they've knighted him the one with Potential. I have no idea why. I mean really? He lives in St. Louis and has distinctly expressed his general aversion to relationships.

And, evidently, I also have an aversion to relationships. Is it weird that I use my friends and road-dogs as one of my many many many valid reasons not to get into a serious relationship? I mean, really...I feel about 1000 times more useful as a single friend. I think it stems from the time when I was the only "singleton" around, and all of my (in-town) friends were in LTRs. I had no one to play with on the weekends. Add to that the fact that it was wintertime and it made for a lonely stretch. Grant it, I probably wasn't going out due to my general avoidance of precipitation; but I would feel extremely guilty if any one of my friends were in that position.

Now's the part where I acknowledge that not one of my friends has ever EVER laid said burden at my doorstep. And frankly, I don't think any of them would reciprocate -- nor would I ever ask them to. I mean really, what kind of selfish beast would ask that? And, if one of my friends had the audacity to ask or imply that, I'd probably tell them about themselves (and they wouldn't like it). But, at the moment, that's my current reason for avoiding relationships. And it's working quite well thank you.

Actually, it's a fall-back reason. There's always the lack-of-opportunity reason. But if you ask the SiQ (which, no one did), she would say that the reason I have no opportunities is because I turn them all away due to aforementioned reason. But really? Even if she (or any other member of the peanut gallery) destroys that reason, I've got a million others. So bring it on ditches!

Playette's Handbook

In an effort to distract myself from Gigi, and because my dating habits are cyclical, I have been out a few times in the past few weeks. Four times in the past 2 weeks to be exact. First, there was IM Boyf for the Jill Scott concert in St. Louis. If I may? Wow. I was thoroughly and completely impressed. From the sports car to the decent seats, to having to pay for nothing but my train ride down, Mr. IM Boyf pulled out all the stops. And he framed it so that I was completely off-guard -- I thought I was a back-up date.

Second, I had tix to the John Legend Concert. It was by invitation or win only. I originally invited the Ninja, in an attempt to give him a 2nd chance. But, as per usual, he flaked. This time, he even waited until the last minute. So, I spent the next 2 hours finding someone else to go with. I called Snowflake and TinyTot. Both were available. So, I had to blow off TinyTot, and pacify him with a Friday date...and take Snowflake because I asked him first. That, and John Legend is a little deep for a first date. Anyway, Snowflake not only showed up, but also was quite a date. All in all, I'd say it was an excellent date.

The next day was Friday. I planned to meet TinyTot for First Fridays at the Museum of Contemporary Art. But, before I could go, the Danka guy asked if I wanted to grab a drink. My answer, of course, was heck yeah. Unfortunately, the Danka guy bought be two beverages prior to meeting with TinyTot; so I had to play sober with TinyTot. The Danka guy is over a decade older than me, so it wasn't a real date. TinyTot was. And I'd say the first date with TinyTot was quite good.

So, do any of these have potential? I have no idea. I'm not ready to place any bets yet. As long as I'm in the middle of the cycle, I may as well enjoy it and go with the flow. If for no other reason than the story...and we all know I'm always in it for the story. :)

Missing Her...

I never thought I'd get teary-eyed over an animal. I never thought I'd miss a kitty after only 2 weeks. But alas, here we are. Gigi cat is going back to the shelter tomorrow...and I feel awful. I feel awful because I'm sending her back to the shelter and I know she hates it. I feel awful because she was just getting used to being here. And I feel awful because I failed as a pet parent. But when it came to choosing between gambling with my health, I decided to send her back. Basically, the doctor told me that the throat-tightening could potentially go away in a few months. He also said that I could potentially develop asthma. Basically, I decided that I'd better not take that chance. If I waited a few months, only to become more attached, and then have to take her back, I'd die of a broken heart rather than asthma. So, I'll miss her...but maybe I can try again someday when I have a bigger place...with doors. :(

Magic Act

Well, Gigi is the name that won, of course. It was destiny, it goes well with "the Magician". How did she earn that name, you ask? Well, Gigi managed to find the one teeny tiny 4" by 4" hole that leads to the dark morass under my counter. A spacious hiding spot that no human hand can get to, short of moving the stove out of the kitchen. She found it and stayed there for about20 hours.

For the first few hours (this was Friday), I just assumed she was in there, since there really isn't any other place for her to hid in my open floor plan apartment. So, I went out with Kaia, Lalo, and IM Boyf. When I came home, nothing. She, evidently, hadn't moved. During the night, around 2am, I heard "meow, meow." And that was it. I suppose she was just making the announcement that she was still around. The next morning, I still didn't see nary a hair of her head. I started to get concerned that I'd actually lost my new friend in less than 24 hours. Until I looked down next to the stove, and she looked back at me like "Dude, What?". So I roll my eyes and leave her be.

For the next several hours, I called the shelter and tried all of their suggestions to get her out. She meowed twice, but was having none of this coming out business. It wasn't until later that night that she came out. First, she stuck her head out. When I got to close, she went back in. so I walked away, and out she comes. She explores a little bit, and then takes up residence under the coffee table. Well, I decide to go out with the same suspects from the night before, now that I know she's safe, and so she'll have some quiet time. (I got to see my former neighbor and standby boyf, Adam!)

When I got back, she'd used the litterbox (and the area in front of it, but she scooped out litter to cover up what didn't make it in the box). But she still hadn't eaten. Not long after I got home, she shot up the stairs and hid under my bed. Where she stayed until late Sunday. I was all kinds of worried because she still hadn't come out from under the bed or eaten by the time I left Sunday afternoon. Well, when I came back Sunday evening, I went upstairs to try to coax her out for the last time. Guess who wasn't there? That's right, Gigi. She started meowing from under the coffee table, and then ate heartily. Oy. Gigi the Magician indeed.

Why I've been silent...

Ladies and Gentlemen...may I introduce the reason why I've been remiss in my posting...

Introducing Gigi! (AKA Gigi the Magician, Wonder Kitty....stories on that to follow)

Winter blues

So, today, I come home from work. And I see a bright orange glow. I'm totally panicking -- what could be on fire. Oh my goodness! Did someone break in? Did I leave some electrical appliance on?! WHAT HAPPENED?!?!

...

As it turns out, nothing happened. I just saw the setting sun, shining in my window. THAT's how long it's been since I saw the sun.

Cheap Shots

Here's what I don't understand. Why are people (aka self-righteous - extremist - conservatives) throwing around Barack Obama's middle name? (It's Hussein if you didn't already know). I mean really, to be eligible for the presidency, you must be at least 35 years old. Which, would mean, Mr. Obama would've been born at least 33 years prior to middle America hating Saddam not-related-to-Obama Hussein. Therefore, are you implying that all of middle America is too stupid to realize that Hussein is a common name in more than one country? OR are you implying that every person with the same name is of the same caliber of person, same religion, same personality, etc.? If the latter is the case, then I feel sorry for all of y'all named John (John Wayne Gacy), Charles (Charles Manson), Aileen (Aileen Wuornos)....well you get the idea.

New Rant

Ok. I have had ENOUGH. I am tired of television putting pressure on women to have perfect, fabulous bodies (AKA bodies like mine - HA). But I am more tired of television not putting the same pressure on men. Because frankly, women are just as shallow as men. So QUIT putting fat men with pretty women on sitcoms.

Examples: According to Jim, King of Queens, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and the like.

I mean really. This is a terrible idea. Shows like these make men believe they have the right to hit on anyone, and women start ranking themselves and believing some men are unattainable. This is completely unacceptable. And I, for one, am not going to take it anymore! From now on, I vow to only watch shows with hot guys.

And while I'm on the subject of television, did anyone watch that new show Quarterlife? It aired for the first time last night on NBC. Thank you, NBC, for a show about a bunch of fake-plain white people. What do I mean by that, you ask? Well, let me explain. First of all, the take teeny tiny women, and put glasses or plain clothes on them, and make them play average characters. (I take offense to the glasses part -- and the clothes part, because I don't watch you to see you in a dirty t-shirt). And THEN, they add a cast of plain looking hippy dippy white guys. And, then on top of all of that, I am totally sick of the homogeneity of winter in the Chi. All of that adds up to a show that is a total disdain on my part. (That, and the plot wasn't really all that impressive).

Snugglies, or, The Importance of a Good Bathrobe

For the past few weeks, I have been living in a new set of playclothes. Enter the fabulous rubber duckie sweatpants and extra-snuggly bathrobe. I'm in heaven. You know that song that says "the weather outside is frightful...". Well, the weather outside is frightful -- but I couldn't care less! I can't remember the last time I went out. Usually, I'd be sad about this. But, thanks to the snuggly rubber duckie pajamas, and my extra comfy bathrobe, I am just ecstatic at the promise of lounging on my chaise. So, what we've learned is that staying in is an excellent past-time, as long as there are sweats and a bathrobe. (A t.v. and a nice warm fleece blanket help too!).

On a sidenote, currently the names Jack & Kate are winning. But I haven't sent out the survey link as an email yet. :)

Signs you may be Boy Crazy...

So, there I was, reading the headlines on AOL. And I see a headline that says "Athlete Cut All Over Body." And I think: "oooh! I wonder if there are pictures?!"

...

Then I continue reading, and it says "Player falls through plate glass."

Yikes. Think it's time to find a new crush, maybe??? Hello, my name is pheebee, and I'm boy-crazy.

There's nothing wrong with a little OCD

In an effort to keep my current obsession fresh, I've created a survey. (How awesome is being able to create a web-based survey anyway?! So, feel free to vote at will!

Click Here to take survey

Fashion Mini-Update

So, I have an update for the ladies out there. I've noticed a few things that have come up for spring. First, that awesome safari dress that I bought a couple years ago is going to fit right in this spring. The safari look is back. I've noticed quite a few patch pockets, khaki colors, and safari dresses making a comeback. I've also seen some new twists, such as suits with the patch pockets in the safari-khaki color (ATL), as well as rompers. I'm not sure about the romper look, as I've only seen it on tv models, so tbd on whether that will work for everyone.

Also, for casual-wear, evidently we're also looking to Africa for patterns, colors, and trims. Casual shirts are beaded, or have earthy patterns, or are in earthy colors.

On the flip side, the feminine look is back in. Good news for the boys! We're showing more of our feminine wiles next season. So, more frills, more skirts, and more frocks. Also, there are going to be a lot more fluttery materials. Jury's still out on this -- too many ruffles can go very very wrong. But, I'm pretty amped about the peasant-girl potential (just think how much more comfortable that would be!).

Once again, it looks like fashion really is for the masses these days. Offering complimentary, but different ends of the spectrum at the same time. Nice work fashion gods!

Time flies

So, I just discovered that I am woefully behind on the blogging. But really it's because not much has happened recently. Lately, I've been having a crisis a day, but nothing worth writing because they are neither big nor hilarious. But here's a quick rundown anyway:

1. My parents are driving me nuts. Seriously up the wall, climb a bell tower, and start shooting crazy. I will officially go on record and say that for the first time EVER, I wish I wasn't an only child. Arrgh!

2. I'm still waiting for the kitty-fund to grow enough that I can afford cat-man-doo. (No, I won't really name him/her that. Yeesh! Have some faith!)

3. If I don't get an interview for a new job soon, I may get back up on the bell tower. Just sayin'.

4. I keep waffling on whether or not I should take on the debt of a mortgage in LP. I mean, I know I can't really afford what I want...but is it better to pay rent for another 3 years (to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars making a swoosh! sound as they get flushed?)? Or, is it better to buy something less than what I want, take the tax write-off, and sell in 5 years? I have no idea. But I know that my current salary puts me below the lines needed to get special lower middle class loans.

So those are my crises. Not major right? Yeah, I know. I tried to warn you. But nooooo you refused to listen. so you get a post full of non-exciting chatter. :}