Scott's grounded

I leave that man out of my sight for just a few hours, and he comes home with tales of some girl at the bar "talking him up" between rounds of foos-ball. I don't like that. Meanwhile, I'm out in the world with NO makeup on and no chance of being able to come back with similar stories, since I literally do not have my game face on.

Which is really what I came here to blog about but then I get sidetracked by stories of women talking to my boy while he's out with his troublemaking friends. Yes, I am the jealous type -- no, I don't care if it's unattractive. I don't like it. Period. No point dragging it out though, because it only makes Evil Husband play Devils Advocate with me to get a rise out of me. (Would you be upset if I bought her a couple of drinks? How about if she bought me drinks? That depends, dear... Would you be upset if you woke up with your new 19" monitor protruding from your behind??)

Anyways... No makeup. Anyone that has ever read my blog knows how I feel about my makeup. I don't leave the house without it. Even "no makeup" for me usually only REALLY means "no eyeliner." But, today, after days of flakiness I just decided -- fuck it. Spent the whole day in public with no makeup on. Gotta tell you. It was refreshing. Had a mini crying jag today (was missing Dad) and didn't have to worry about mascara running. Could answer the phone without having to wipe off half my face afterwards. In short, I may be turning over a new leaf. I think I can learn to live without having my game face on -- my "A" makeup OR my "B" makeup -- every day and start taking a break.

The biggest thing I will have to learn to live with would be all the comments. Are you feeling okay? Are you tired? Are you sick? Are you getting enough sleep? Yes, no, no, yes -- you stupid people, I just get tired of wearing makeup every friggin' day! GAWD!

That's all for tonight -- if I don't see you before, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

open letter to new friends and old

I'm making a new friend (or bringing a new prospect into the cult, whatever) and, as I always do, I gave her a link to the blog. It's about the only time I get traffic (another than Cattiva I don't think I have any regular readers -- at least none that have anything to say about what I say) and I'm vain. (No, you Heather? Vain? Huh.) [note: so desperate for feedback I am now talking to myself IN PRINT as well as in person...]

Where was I? Ah yes, new friend/cult prospect... How bizarre it must have been for her to learn through the blog that my dad had died. She called to offer her condolences and then admitted she felt odd talking to me after knowing all this personal stuff about me through the blog.

I never thought about it like that. It never occurred to me that someone who didn't know me that well might not be ready to know me THIS well. It is a bit Full Heather Jacket for the newly initiated. Most people generally can only stand the watered down version at first. It takes some time to take your Heather straight up.

I understand this.

So, my dear new friend if you are still here allow me to explain.

I am lazy. Very. I want all that get-to-know you stuff, because that's nice. But who the fuck has time for that? It's not like I would have ever had time to share all the nuances of my relationship with Scott or my friends or my past or whatever in the amount of time that we will actually get to spend hanging out. But, you well know that it is THESE nuances that make a person's life what it is and therefore makes that person who they are. I like to learn those little details about people's lives and arrogantly assume that they would like to know these things about me to try to "get" me, just as I want to "get" them.

Having people that I first meet read my blog is kind of a short cut to that end. Plus, knowing someone might be stopping by in blog world has a similar impact as knowing someone is dropping by your house has on real world. I try harder to put on a show and put some material out there to make it interesting for the visitor -- just as I try harder to pick the house up and get it looking presentable for company. (Not that this is ever successful, but I solved this problem by almost NEVER having anyone over to visit anymore. What they can't see, can't embarrass me!)

So, don't think this stuff is TOO personal or you know too much. Trust me, if this is all there was to me, then that wouldn't leave much. Most of the TOO personal stuff really does stay inside Heather's head. (Or at least in one of Scott's ears and out the other.)

Feel free to read on and try not to worry that you know too much about me to be comfortable. If it gets to be too much, you can always stop reading. I stopped trying to write for other people when I realized that other people weren't stopping by and I still wanted to write. Generally, I write for an imagined audience of what I hope are close friends or people who would like to be.

I'm still hoping to find people looking for solicited overly blunt advice, but there's another blog for you. (How many planned blogs are mentioned out there? 10? Well, won't THAT give me material on slow news days!)

I'm off to bed -- so much for being well-rested before tomorrow night's show... Going to see Movin' Out at Chrysler Hall -- SO excited!

kisses new friends and old ~

H.

While I am waiting for my Tylenol PM to kick in (God bless it), I thought I would tell you a mini-review of all the movies I saw over the holiday weekend.

Lemony Snickett's A Series of Unfortunate Events -- Loved it. Very cute, very story book like. Definitely something I could take my kids to go see and not be afraid of damaging their psyches. Not that I have kids, but if I did I am sure I wouldn't want their psyches damaged.

Closer -- Loved this too. It was the movie equivalent of a very fine dessert. Something that's not your average thing to sink your teeth into. You get just enough of a glimpse of the people to know you wouldn't want to be much closer to them because you know they would cause you harm...

Napoleon Dynamite -- Just out on video and got sucked into the buzz of it. We both had a blast over this one. Very silly. Napoleon is just the geek to end all geeks and just seems completely annoyed with the world at ALL times, but in a very funny way. No matter how geeky you may have been in high school, this movie will probably make you feel much better about it. "What are you going to do today, Napoleon?" "God, whatever I want to, okay!"

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zisou -- This is a bad, bad movie. It was NOT for me. I guess I'm not cool enough to have the right kind of sense of humor for this. And I wanted to. But, less than halfway through it, I wound up not paying attention anymore and sending text messages to anyone who would answer them. "Help me, I'm trapped watching a bad movie!" Gload I didn't pay to see it.

The Flight of the Phoenix -- VERY cheesy, but I did get sucked in. But, if you are lactose intolerant, you may want to avoid this movie altogether.

Monster -- Just released to cable. Wow. This was DISTURBING. I do believe that Selby was using Aileen all along and when things went South, she turned on her -- but this is just my opinion.

That's all we've got and the PM is kicking in, so I'm kicking out.

Nuggets of Humor in Our Sad Holiday

While I was over at Mom's the other night, "being attentive" as she calls it, an old friend of hers called....

Wait, I'm going to tell the story backwards because either way it's going to be a long story that may only be amusing to a small select group of people who knew me WAY back when...

When I was in high school, I really liked to hang out with people and play cards on my mother's GOOD Oriental rug in the fancy living room. (Many of my friend's may recall the blue couch in that room its glory days. Someone will have explain why THAT was the most appealing spot. I always picked the floor.) And the card game we always played was Egyptian Rat Screw. (HP2 recently reminded me how to play this game, and it sent me warping back in time. Feel free to email me and I will tell you how to play. No charge!)

For the longest time, my most regular partner at the game was a dude who shared the name of a summer blockbuster starring Brad Pitt. We really got into playing and had a lot of fun. Many people often thought we should date or thought that we already were. But we weren't and wouldn't -- we never even kissed. But, we sure had a lot of laughs. Maybe that's why? But it never would have worked out because he was a raging Southern Baptist and I was a raging nothing. Until I became a raging Episcopalian. You know how nutty THOSE guys are! Boy, did he try to SAVE me time and time again. Was forever preaching. And had some of the same hypocrisies you often hear about Evangelical ministers -- running after women, sneaking around, telling lies to his parents whom he was supposed to be honoring. So, it was hard to take his preaching seriously. Which, of ourse, I told him.

Years pass, I move away and make all those egregious errors that I made in the past. Yadda yadda yadda, get over those errors, move back to town, yadda yadda yadda, meet and marry the love of my life, my father dies and that brings us back to date. Where I was over at my Mom's house when an old friend called...

She was this lady who was always a little wacky and usually drunk and just a tad slutty who my parents let act as my guardian on many NUMEROUS occasions. Ahhh, the 70's -- don't you miss 'em? She's just heard the news and OH MY GAWD, she's just sooo sorry. And "your poor mother" and how did it HAP-pen? And on and on.* Apparently she heard the news from the neighbor down the street. The mother of the very same guy I used to play cards with. The preacher.

Turns out the preacher became a monk. Can you IMAGINE? How do you go from womanizing Southern baptist to a motherfucking monk?? Don't think I wouldn't ask him that if he called! Because I would. How could I not?? The crazy lady said that when the family heard the news, he asked for my phone number so he could call. Can you imagine? What circle of hell will I wind up in if I say motherfuck to a Monk? Is there a book on this? Because I can't stand it -- I just can't!!

So, that was my nugget of humor in some of the sad days...

-hl



*(Sidenote over my last sidenote from my last blog... Now, I can not only write about Bridezilla madness and what you can and can't say to a bride or about a wedding that I never realized... I can also write about Surreal Funeral Timeframe, where nothing seems real and people say the most ludicrous things out of a desperate attempt to try to give you comfort when you both feel so sad that you know that they can't say anything and how you wish they could. Asking how did it happen is not always the best way to go in this time frame, I have learned this. I KNOW you want to know, but can you imagine how much I really don't want to talk about it??)

M

I feel like I am supposed to have this big scarlet letter M on my chest, because I am in mourning. People talk to me in these hushed tones and get this funny crinkle between their eyes when they ask me how I am. It's no longer a generic question -- they actually want to know an answer now. How ARE you? No, I mean, really.

Really, I'm fine. I feel kind of bad that I'm fine. It doesn't mean that I don't miss my Dad and that I don't think that it totally and completely sucks that he is gone from my life. Particularly at Christmas time, let's be honest. Which also makes me feel bad, because what? It would have been better in March when there's no holidays going on?

Well, yeah. Who wants to associate the holidays with losing their parent? And now, my poor Mom has lost both her husband and her mother around the holidays. Yet still manages to put together a tree that would make Martha Stewart pee her pants in jealousy.

Where was I? Ah, yes -- fine. I'm fine. I feel like this is some sort of character flaw on my part. I try to explain it away to people. Give them reasons that I am fine. But let's face it -- I am the daughter of the "you've got to play when you're hurt" man. Would I even be allowed to be anything BUT fine?? It's not even that I'm forcing it. Mostly, I'm fine. I wish that things were the way they were before. I wish my Dad was going to be there on Christmas morning, pretending to like all the presents we gave him and complaining about how all we do is talk about when we're going to eat again. It's just all those dumb little things that you miss that you don't realize you're going to. But, it doesn't make me want to cry all the time and I don't feel sick anymore. I just feel sad that he's not here, but I AM glad that he won't have to deal with all the repercussions of all the cancer he had. He wouldn't have liked having to be that weak in front of us, that wasn't his style.

And I feel like because I'm not supposed to be "fine" that most people don't know how to talk to me, don't know how to approach me anymore. I was out shopping today and people treated me like a normal, regular, last-minute harried shopper. It was a relief. I wanted to ask them why they couldn't see this big scarlet M on me, but I knew it was because they didn't have the information. I wish more people didn't have the information. I wish more people didn't have to know about this change in me. I wish I didn't feel like I needed to tell them. I don't even really want to talk about It, but I feel like other people think I do so they ask. They check in. They take my emotional temperature.

My dad died. It's really fucking sad, but it turns out it's not the end of the world. Life does, in fact, go on. And everything seems even more ridiculous than it did before.

Next episode: how I'm trying not to be militant about not smoking.

R.I.P. R.C.P.

There's no easy way to discuss this, but I feel that before we can move on as blogger and bloggee we have to talk about it...

My dad died last Wednesday. Most of you already know this. But maybe you didn't get the memo.

There is NO way to describe how this has already changed my life in a 1000 subtle and not-so-subtle ways. I wanted to speak at his service this past Saturday, but how could I? What could I say? What can you say about the man who was this presence in your life for 31 1/2 year and is now gone. Suddenly and completely with no second chances.

I find that I frequently have to stop myself from saying things now and that's never been my strong suit. But the things I want to say are of a preachy nature to others, and what good does that do? Lord knows that's not something that would serve HIS memory well. Don't get me wrong, the man knew how to give a lecture but just like any lecture I would be prone to give -- it wouldn't do anyone any good until it's too late.

Because I really want to remind people to stop and pay attention to the people in their lives who have made their lives what they are today. To appreciate these people. To tell them they are appreciate. To remember that the people who truly love you, love you forever -- even when they are completely incapable of telling you so verbally, they tell you in thousands of other ways. It was beyond my father to tell me regularly that he loved me and that he was proud of me. Every once in a while he would be able to do so (generally after a number of beers) and even in the telling he would get a little choked up and would quickly have to change the subject to something less emotional. Like, when are you going to get that fence fixed, Heather? Or tell Scott I'm going to kick his ass in fantasy football this week. What time are you going to be here for dinner on Sunday?

My father's dying didn't suddenly make the relationship we had rosy and beautiful, we certainly had our ups and downs and generally didn't see eye to eye on many things. But the one thing that I'm glad of is that in these last few years, I (at least) had been able to really understand that while these differences frustrated me immensely they didn't mean that we loved each other any less. I know that he loved me, because of the things that he did for me through the years, even at times when he wasn't even able to do things for himself. I know that he loved me because he tried to shelter me from the bad things in life, so I wouldn't have to experience them myself. And I know that he loved me because I just know.

You know too. Someone loves you that doesn't tell you and may not even do a great job of showing you. Try to understand that they are giving you as much as they can.

I always tried to tell my dad how much I loved him, but I hope that I was able to show him sometimes too.

This is where I become prone to the preaching -- take your loved ones in your arms and never let them go til you know they know you love them. That's what I want to say, because it really is true -- you really don't know when they'll be gone from your life.

much love all ~

This pretty much says it all about my night out last night...

The surprising thing is that for once, these aren't MY boobs! ;-)

But this played a part too. I know I shouldn't be posting porn like stuff on my blog -- but f* it. And now y'all can see the new hair color.

Not sure if it's going to stay around for a while because it's a bit darker than I anticipated, actually. But, I'm going to try it out for a few weeks in the interest of not causing my beloved hairdresser yet another nervous breakdown!

Last night was a TON of fun. I haven't had that much fun and cut loose in a long time... And today, I remembered why as I have staggered about the house grunting in pain with every step I take and sounding like a bowl of Rice Krispies every time I get up. But, then again I am old enough to realize that I do, in fact, need more than 5 hours of sleep in order to feel like a productive member of society.

The GOOD news is that I have yet to get a single Christmas task accomplished nor any decorating, but I have somehow managed to not have a nervous breakdown over it. Probably because our house is such a disaster that I have little time to think of much else.

In the spirit of "my dad can beat up your dad", I give you my husband can out-bling your husband.

Finally colored my hair. It's kind of a toffee color, I think. I like it. It's a lot closer to my natural color which will be easier maintenance wise. Maybe. I think I'm just used to being blonde now, so it's hard to switch.

I get home, Scott comes scooting down the stairs to see how I turned out. He was a bit taken aback by the color change, but I think he'll get over it. I start teasing him about how he can't say I can't make a decision about changing my hair color now and he says, "You might want to be a little nicer to me..." Then he goes into the other room and gets me a gift bag. Inside the bag is a cute little bear and I'm all awww, that's so sweet. And then I realize the cute bear isn't the gift -- the cute little bear is wearing big diamond earring studs.

Hubba ding a bling bling!

I've been saying I wanted diamond studs forever but because I knew I planned to wear them in my second hole have always felt a little guilty for this desire. Like, I'm not worthy to have something so blingy just to put in an extra hole.

I've changed my mind! Kapow! I've got zing, I've got sizzle -- I'm loving it!!

It was this time last year that we got engaged -- a year ago tomorrow actually. I feel like a princess -- having a day that bling gets bestowed upon me. Hee hee!

Thanks to my honey and thanks to all of you for listening to me rave about my diamonds -- they are just so much fun!

Diamonds may not be my best friend but it's nice that my best friend likes to give them to me...

H.

I am really fucking angry right now.

We went out with my husband's co-workers tonight to say farewell to one of his co-workers. Bon voyage -- turns out there are greener pastures in Indiana, who would have thunk it?

Well, ONE of his co-workers is a woman who I have had varying degrees of issues with. We'll call her Sheila, for identity purposes. Sheila likes to talk about sex -- A LOT. I am uncomfortable with the level of sex talk around my husband (much less what I DON'T know about) and I don't even consider myself to be an uptight person. However, I also know that Sheila has had a lot of misfortune in her personal life, and because of which I try to be understanding. Sheila has a lot of self-esteem issues which has led her to be involved in abusive relationships. Having been there/done that -- this is not something I take lightly.

Tonight, Sheila has a bit too much to drink. This is not unusual. She has a break-down because of the too much to drink and who has to go rescue her in the bathroom post-vomit (thankfully!)? Yours truly. She is a COMPLETE wreck. No one loves her, she wants what I have with Scott, she can't understand why everyone treats her so bad... Etc.

I really have to refrain from slapping her and I am not a violent person. I try to reason with her. Look, you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you -- do you think I could have what I have with Scott if I didn't have some respect for myself first? Do you think someone is going to just rescue you from your life? Fuck that. Respect yourself, respect what you have accomplished. Jesus Christ -- this woman is a single mother of a BEAUTIFUL daughter who is an accomplished dancer and the woman is successful in her own right. Makes tons of money on her own, for herself and doesn't even appreciate what she has. And why?! Why?!

Because she doesn't have a fucking man to snuggle up with at night! It makes me so angry I can hardly type. Men are men.

I love Scott. I do. But that's because he is SCOTT -- he is not just some man who came along and did the right thing the right amount of times. He earned it. Yes, he fucks up A LOT and there have been plenty of times I have wondered what I was thinking but I did NOT want to be with him because he was a man -- I wanted to be with him because he was Scott and he was THE man for me. It makes me so so so so angry to hear women who say they want to be with a man and they NEED a man and they think it is pathetic because they have gone for X amount of time without having sex. Are you kidding me? Sex is sex. You can get that anywhere and you are kidding yourself if you think just any man that can "hold you so tight" is going to solve that. You don't need to be held tight -- you need therapy. You need to learn self-respect and self-worth.

And you know what, contrary to what I always say -- it is NOT that simple. It is hard hard work to believe that you are worth something and that you don't deserve just anything and that you do deserve to be with someone who treats you decent. But maybe when you believe that you won't keep talking about sex to anyone and everyone who will listen. That's NOT who you are -- and YOU do deserve better.

I'm not sure if it is possible to be addicted to beauty crap, but if it is I definitely am. And have been for as long as I can remember. One person can regale with glee the stories of "all of those little bottles" and no one ever worries about not having any makeup if they come by my house and realize they need to put some on. I usually have a pretty fair amount. I don't generally venture too far out of my earth tone makeup colors but I do have an array of them.

What is it about makeup? I think it's the magic of it all. I love it so much that I'm pretty sure I've blogged about it before -- but who cares? Is ANYONE keeping score here? Where was I...? Ah, the magic. I get up and do my shower thing and then I transform myself into someone that has smoother pores and more defined eyes. Not too much, just enough to look better. It takes a fair amount of makeup to look like you're not wearing any but it's worth it.

And with apologies to my Avon lady, I must say that I love Clinique. LOVE the Clinique. Just stopped by tonight and donated part of my Christmas bonus and loved it. I've always gotten good service (have to go to Dillard's though, the Hecht's girls aren't as good -- so said the Dillard's girl) and just love to play. Although, I am convinced that they go to the same school of comments. Every time I go to the Clinique counter I generally get one or all of the following comments:

Do you exfoliate?
Have you tried moisturizer? (This one is pretty funny because it generally comes after a chat with the consultant about how I have such dry skin and I have a really hard time with that.)
You have such a gorgeous mouth -- people pay money for lips like this. (I swear I am not making this up -- I have heard this more than twice. It can't be a coincidence, they must tell them to say this.)
You are so funny.

I think funny people must not visit the Clinique counter very often because they're generally pretty amused by me. I used to think this was just a suck-up thing to make me buy things, but I just learned they don't earn commission -- so I'm back to my original theory. Don't get me wrong, I know I'm funny but I'm not THAT funny. You just need to get out more.

Anyways... Bought this scary but cool lipstick tonight. I've been looking for a shiny red lipstick for a while but whenever I try to buy one it's always wrong. I realized I needed expert help. So, I was directed to the Queen of the Lipsticks. This stuff requires at least a Bachelors degree in proficiency at applying lipstick, so it's not for the faint-hearted. I am a little faint-hearted when it comes to lipstick, having had one too many experiences that left me looking like a cheap hooker but I'm desperate. So, you have to very precisely paint this stuff onto your lips and then you have to let it dry. Very carefully. If it doesn't dry just so, or if you (God forbid!) try to blot your lips then you are completely screwed. The stuff will flake and the flaking will never end. You'll be flaking til you die! THEN, you have to put the shiny stuff on. But don't put it on too soon or the colored stuff will get gritty and you're screwed again.

But that's not the scariest part. The scariest part is that it doesn't come off. Well, at least not easily. I washed my face and about half of it was still clinging on. Then I used 3 layers of Vaseline and it STILL didn't come off. What does it take? I'm thinking nuclear reaction.

I may need to get a lip implant after all -- I think I lost a few layers scraping this stuff off.

Thanksgiving p.s.

While carving the turkey, Scott asked if we had any Thanksgiving traditions about the bird that he should observe. I said that for most of my life the tradition was not to even have a turkey. You see, my mother doesn't really like turkey. Not even on Thanksgiving. During dinner she said, "Everything was wonderful...except for the turkey. It can't help it -- it's turkey." During dessert she said, "Next year I'll know to skip dinner and just have dessert."

But then again, where the dessert was concerned I couldn't really blame her. She made this cake called Better than Sex cake. Now, I like sex.

A lot.

But, this cake was soooo good I almost didn't want to brush my teeth afterwards because that meant I would lose the taste of the cake.

There are LOTS of times I can't wait to brush my teeth after sex...

I mean, I'm just saying... The cake was really good.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

I have a lot to be thankful for this year... It helps to remember that while getting ready for a day that has not much more purpose than eating to it. And preparing for eating and cleaning up after eating. And for many people, driving far away or flying far away just to eat.

I think it would be much easier if Thanksgiving wasn't so close to Christmas. Thanksgiving is what starts all the hub-bub so rather than actually enjoying the holiday, many of us are grumbling to ourselves that this is the start into the downward spiral which is Christmas.

But, I have a lot to be thankful for so I'm going to try to overlook all of that for a few hours.

I have my husband whom I adore and who mostly adores me. I have my parents, who love and support me and who hopefully will be around for a while to continue to do so. I have so many amazing friends who give me inspiration and help me smooth out the rough edges in my life. I'm working on getting my degree, which is a slow process but maybe one day...

I have a lot to be thankful for -- I can bitch tomorrow. :-)

The LBD

The LBD is the fashion mag term for little black dress. The LBD has long been the bane of my existence. I know (because I am told by fashion mags -- that addiction is subject for some other blog) how important it is to have one. There's generally at least one occasion per year where the LBD will come in handy.

I don't have the LBD.

It's not for lack of trying. But, my shape doesn't really suit the stereotypical LBD mold, so my search to find one usually winds up in tears, tantrums and tirades. Not always in that order. This is generally followed by an explicit promise to myself to begin dieting and/or working out asap. Which is followed by a bingeing experience to comfort myself with carbs. But, moving away from the story at my weekly Overeaters Anonymous meeting... The short version is that my lack of LBD is not for lack of trying.

Yet another event arises where I am in need of the LBD. I go out wearing the proper underwear and set forth with a determined air. I will try on every single blessed LBD in my size in the ladies' formal wear department or die of dehydration trying... I will not overlook something just because I'm sure it won't look right. You just never know. It's time to put this problem to rest once and for all. This is ridiculous. Surely there must be something that isn't just awful.

I managed to find many more LBD's in my size than I was used to. I was pleasantly surprised. I pulled on the first dress expecting the inevitable too tight combined with too loose that is my usual experience in this matter. But no, it was the perfect fit. Flattering scoop neckline with a delicate bow in the cleavage area. Low cut enough to give a hint but not so low cut that I was giving away my family secret. (I'll give it away here -- my bra is heavily padded!) Waist cinched in just enough to be defining but almost immediately flaring back out to an A-line skirt. A-line combined Empire! What a dream! The length was perfect too. Well past the knee but not floor length -- perfect for showcasing some cute shoes to match. I had found my LBD.

And I left the LBD in the store without buying it.

Because it was boring. Really boring. It's a little black dress, for God's sake. It would need LOTS of dolling up to make it work. Colored earrings and necklace and awesome shoes and that may kick it up a notch. Snore... Seriously, I couldn't believe how incredibly boring this thing was that I had always desired to have. Is it always like this? Expectation completely crushed by reality? How friggn' fair is that??

I wound up with black sparkly palazzo pants that I may just have to wear with my bra to the next big event. Maybe I could glue feathers on my bra to spice it up!

Screw you LBD -- I've out-smarted you!

Just caught the tale end of one of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City. The one where Berger broke up with Carrie on a post it note. This was so mind-boggling unacceptable and yet so the reality of what really happens that I had to pull out my raving feminist soapbox from my closet and get back on it and rant for bit...

this rant is actually brought to you by real-life circumstances...

(I was going to use actual names but Scott threw out the chilling reminder, "just use your discretion." Ugh. We all know what that means... Yup, use his discretion.)

A situation came about wherein a female friend was put together with a male friend. No harm, no foul. The female friend was looking for some arm candy to go to an event, the male friend was happy to oblige. Heavy flirting led to another date where the inevitable outcome of booze and more heavy flirting occurred. A good time was had by all. And then the male friend didn't call.

Did not call.

This is where my dusty soapbox starts to rock and sway a bit. Because I'm ranting and foaming -- at men but really at the whole ugly situation to begin with. If there have been a couple of dates between adults of a certain age and there has been some booty that goes along with it, there are expectations that start to develop. It feels like the beginning of something that could be the beginning of something. There is the feeling in the back of a woman's head of a little relief. :::Phew::: I may not have to go out there any more, this guy seems really cool. When there is no call and no clear understanding that this feeling was not mutual... It's a problem.

Frankly, I've been on both ends of this. I think we all have screened calls because we just didn't want to say that we weren't as interested as the other person seemed to be. I've done my fair share of screening in my time and it's the most shameful thing in the world. But can you imagine actually being cruel-to-be-kind enough to actually say, "I'm just not that in to you?" Unless you're part of the 1% of the population who has ever done this, then I'm guessing you can't. Most of us have blamed ourselves and said we weren't ready to be in a relationship or we had to unexectedly move to Lithuania or whatever, if we even gave the person a reason at all. But, I've also been screened. I know what it's like to call. Or not to call but to just not really understand what happened that the relationship ended since you were never told. I mean, closure is EVERYTHING, but I think especially to women. (Well, duh -- of course I think that!)

I would like to start a national courage movement. If you're not that into someone but you were into them enough to have sex with them, call them. Tell them the truth. Yeah, it is hard to be the bastard/bitch who delivers that message -- but realistically, you had sex with this person. They had reasonable expectation that something could lead from that. [important note: I am NOT referring to one night stands. If you met someone and had sex with them on the exact same night then as much fun as that can be, you have NO reasonable expectation that anything else will ever occur. Seriously. That's just stalking.] If you knew the person that you had sex with AT ALL before the night the sex occurred, then you owe them an explanation as to why you no longer want to see them again. It is a hard hard thing. I know how hard it is because I didn't meet the challenge.

But that was before the National Courage Movement. These are different times. Bolder times, stronger times. We have to face our fears and just dump like grown-up responsible people. In the long run it will make for much easier, simpler times. You don't have to carry the guilt of knowing that you disappointed a fellow human without giving them a reason why, your fellow human will finally understand why you stopped calling. This is a win-win!! And we know how much everyone likes win-win's!

This story has another twist, actually. The twist is that if you want to be in a relationship, perhaps you should put off a different vibe around the person you want to be in the relationship with. If you treat your potential suitor with the same strong hand that you treat everyone else, then it's going to be much harder to get them to take to the whip.

Trust me on this one. ;-)

What I really want is to have the kind of blog that leads people to randomly ask me how to fix their lives...

What I can't figure out is why I am so interested in fixing people's lives and why anyone would think I can fix theirs and either way how do I get those people HERE?!

Perhaps if I type the phrase: I CAN FIX YOUR LIFE AT NO CHARGE -- people will Google it and they will come.

Still, I know that I can't really fix people's lives, I just REALLY like trying.

Does that count?

Random Childhood Memories

Okay, so I'm up early and fooling around with my blog. Most of you probably never noticed (unless you have a blog yourselves) that in the comments section there is this random question: "lionnesses have no manes, how do they know when they have grown up?" I was growing bored with my answer ("when they've been screwed over by a lion") and wanted a new question. I kept trying to get a new random question but I had a problem with most of them, either they were too dumb or too out there or too "I'm just not that creative without a cup of coffee."

This is where this post comes in. One of the questions was something like "what would you call the ballet of children dancing through the water sprinkler?" I still don't know what I would call it, but I sure remember doing it. Do you? We had this automatic sprinkler system in the front yard and I would beg my dad to turn it on so I could run around in it. The begging would go on for what seemed like hours to my childish mind and then he would usually give in. And I would call my little friends and we would dance around in the sprinklers for a while until the cold of the water and the smell of the well water and the mud from the yard would make us quit. But what a dance in the mean time, huh?

Before we got the automatic sprinklers we had one of those rainbow stream things -- Dad didn't seem to believe much in the round and round ones. I wish I could replay that sound because that's the only way to really describe them. The "shh shh shhh" sound. The streamer ones, they were silent. It didn't really pay to stand still with those because the water would hit you suddenly and then you just kind of stood there shivering while you waited for it to come back again. You had to dance through the thing -- back and forth, back and forth.

I have a lot of memories of my Dad growing up, many of them with him being a little grouchy and a little drunk but all in all -- he's been a good dad. A lot of parents didn't like you mudding up their lawns (especially in upper middle class suburbia) and ruining the grass with the over-watering but he would give in a lot. And that's pretty cool.

Check out Catt who once again says the things that I would say if I had opinions about things that weren't about my hair for longer than 5 minutes. Does This Mean I'm a Grown-up? She makes a very good point about actually getting involved and knowing the issues and so forth. I would love to do this, but this would take away from the time I really need to spend thinking about my hair.

Which I can now get back to thinking about since this election thing is over. Don't get me wrong, as you have read I was really into it. But there's just so long that I can be morally outraged before I remember -- I have no morals, I CAN'T have outrage! ;-)

So, about my hair. I'm already getting the fever for major haircolor change again. Scott (surprise) doesn't understand this. Probably few people understand this. [Other than my Goth Martha Stewart. But she's actually morally outraged these days and has little time to obsess about my hair color with me. I bet if I showed up with black hair though, she'd sit up and take notice! (Calm down, I would never.)] I just like to change it. I don't like to change my hairstyle too much or too often -- other than adding more layers sometimes and maybe going a little shorter or a little longer -- so the only way I can express my moodiness is in different colors. Problem is that I'm just always going to be a ditzy blonde underneath the color, so why try to hide it? I want to go some cool shade of brown because it's about the only thing I've never really done, but just not sure I can pull it off. There's just the whole stereotype of brunettes being more serious and mousy and whatever. If anything, I'm a sarcastic grouchy grown-up Daria -- maybe I SHOULD have black hair... But then again, I'm also ditzy and spacy and chatty, so perhaps the blonde is the best way...

America if you want a REAL issue to vote on, one where your vote may count -- vote for Heather's Hair Color!

Should it be:
Blonde
Blue
Brown
Red (but not that crazy red color)
Tiger-striped

No hanging Chads in this election! :-)

I'm going to catch shit for this

It's over. The election thing. That guy won. I can't believe it. My friend said, "Heather, I had no idea you were such an outraged liberal!" (Note: this was taken out of context and not meant in a derogatory way, more like "I didn't realize you liked mashed potatoes.") I admitted I didn't know it either until this election rolled around and I gave some good hard thought to how much we had been lied to by our President and just didn't like the way that tasted.

My friend had some good points that I would like to share. My friend said that we liberals have become a little arrogant in our views, because we get so high-minded when it comes to people who don't agree with our views -- the Bushies. The fact is, my friend points out, over half the country CLEARLY does agree with this. We can call them brain-washed, but they're saying the same things about us. What we are dealing with, my friend and I both agree, is a radical example of human nature at its finest. That is to say that human beings have an inate inabilility to recognize other viewpoints as being as equally valid as their own, for the most part. I completely agree with this. My point is that I am arrogant in my beliefs because I truly truly cannot understand why anyone would want to continue the presidency of someone who has willingly sent so many of our young people to die. Doesn't seem to have a good plan for making that stop. Someone who shows little to no interest in figuring out a way to fix the problem of the vast amount of uninsured people in this country. Is pretty much against separating church and state. And on and on and on.

My friend pointed out this election was about foreign policy and my friend's belief is that the reason why Bush made it and Kerry didn't is because Bush is willing to put on the tough face and kick the shit out of anyone who raises an eyebrow at us instead of sitting down and trying to talk about it diplomatically. You know what. I think this is a good point and I agree that this was a resounding reason why he was re-elected. Bush is able to be the big tough mean guy that's going to "keep us safe." The problem is that he has a little something to do (in not just my opinion) with why we aren't quite so safe. Compound THAT with the fact that he and his homies seem to feed the fear of the American public and I just get outraged again.

But, honestly. I hate to be defeatist, but what can I do? I voted. I voiced my opinion. Could I have done more? Probably. Did I? No. There is just no point spending four years in a state of moral outrage and pissiness and so forth. It's done. He's still running the show. All we can do is hope (and pray, for those of us who do that) that he doesn't continue to fuck up the country. That he sees the division as a real reason to make some changes. No, I don't believe that is going to happen -- but I can still hope it, can't I? It's done.

Another friend says My Country -- Right or Wrong and that wrong is the answer. I don't agree. We still live in country that allows us to choose who is going to run it. We still live in a country that allows us to be pissed off AND LOUDLY about who is running it. We still live in country that is pretty safe (and I DO believe this, even after 9/11 and everything after). No one is going to come to my house and shoot me in the head for choosing Kerry over Bush. We have freedom. We do. We can say that Bush is stripping it as much as he can, but we've still got a fuck ton more than a lot of other sorry bastards do. So, it's my country and we may be wrong but I still love it and I still believe we can make it through this.

But, I guess I'm just an eternal optimist. HA.

I was debating between two different titles for this blog. Either Vote Commando! or Tom Brokaw Makes My Panties Wet. Either way, someone might be offended.

Oh well.

Vote: Commando refers to my early morning vote. I decided last night to get up really early this morning and go vote to "beat the rush"... This will now be referred to as "beat the rush -- HA!" Before I realized that, however, I was up very early throwing on my clothes to go up and seriously considered not bothering to put on my undies since it was dark and I was tired and didn't feel like wriggling into them. I really just wanted to go in my pj's, but the political process is a serious thing (again: HA!) and really shouldn't be done while wearing leopard print silk pj's. Still, the urge to go command was strong. But, I fought it.

The line was LONG. I stood in line for an hour. Behind two Republicans. I was so tired that when they called A-K to the front of the line, I went. I didn't know the alphabet. One of the Republicans I stood in line with was really amused at my lack of knowledge at the alphabet. Hey, he was a pretty nice guy for a Republican so I'll let it slide. He just doesn't see what effect the President has over the economy or creating jobs since those things weren't spelled out as Presidential responsibilities in the Constitution. Huh. Well, I guess you have a point, sir. I don't bother to argue with them anymore, I learned my lesson when my father called me a brain-washed idiot last night. Huh.

Anyways, stood in line for an hour and cast my vote and then came home to have a cup of joe before I ran through the shower to get ready for work... While watching some morning tv, I got to see Tom Brokaw. Sigh. I really love him. Yes, he's old and he talks sort of strangely but he's just so friggin' smart and challenging that it's kind of sexy. And he's retiring. This is his last Presidential election -- can you imagine? Politics without Brokaw? How is this possible? Who is going to replace him? Has this already been decided and I didn't even notice... I've never been that into politics or even into being aware of current events, preferring the ostrich approach to most things in the real world, but I've always loved Tom Brokaw. Gonna miss him, the sexy beast.

It's 8am so I'll have to go shower and get ready to go to work. To my long long day at work answering the phone and pretending to be awake.

Go Vote -- I'd rather have you vote for the other guy than not vote at all, though it pains me to say it.

I got to thinking about something this morning and I can't seem to get it out of my head. And here you are inside...

There is probably a simple answer to this that I just never read far enough or long enough to figure out... I've been thinking about the President's approval rating. I don't really understand this concept. The media is forever talking about how the President's approval rating went up or down, and I recently read an article that stated that it is a known fact that the President's approval rating will go up by as much as 3 points whenever the terror alert is raised. What I want to know is -- where is this rating coming from? Are there people randomly polled? Is it done by phone or a man on the street? How is the question rated? "Do you approve of the President?" Are the same people always called? "How do you feel about him RIGHT NOW?" Is there some criteria you have to meet before being able to say you approve or disapprove of the job the President is doing? Do you have to take a test? Is there an SOL for this?

I'm curious in part because while I have been inundated with political messages (ha -- no more of that since I lost the answering machine) and mailers, no one has EVER called me to ask if I approve of the job the President is doing. Nor have I ever been stopped on the street and polled for this information. So, who are these people? Where do they live? I don't get it.

And finally, in more of our continuing series on how Heather gets all of her news from Comedy Central if you didn't get a chance to see last weeks South Park then you really must before the election. I haven't seen anything that hit the issues and malfunctions that surround this entire campaign more than those badly drawn kids -- oh my God. I haven't laughed that hard since... Well, since the last time I laughed that hard!

I slept well for the first time in ages and woke up to one of my (new) all time favorite movies on HBO this morning (Somethings Gotta Give) -- it's going to be a very good day! Tonight we're going on a double date that isn't a date but it is and doing company stuff. It's yet another time that I'm missing all the Halloween stuff, which I'm bummed about. I was invited to one cool party and would have crashed another that I WASN'T invited to... I mean, HONESTLY -- is it not time to let old dramas friggin' die already and be around people that were formerly uncomfortable situations again? It's totally ridiculous. I'm well over 30 and married, I could give a crap about the situation that (I assume) kept me from getting an invite to this other party and yet it continues to rage on. Oh well. Guess I'll have to look forward to seeing pictures of everyone in their spooky wear -- I'll be "dressy casual" this evening.

Now if only I could figure out what the fuck THAT means. Dressy casual. Think I'm going to wear a sequined top and pajama pants!

VH-1 has a show called The Best Week Ever that is one of my favorite shows. It's basically a round-up of all the pop culture happenings, but includes "real news" as well. This week if they were going to make a show about my life, I think it would be called The Dumbest Week Ever, because I have felt on the low end of the intelligence scale this week.

It started when we rolled back into town after my friend Katrina's wedding. The first draft of my research paper had been mailed back to me with all of the needed revisions. I realized that even if I made all the revisions and did them PERFECTLY the best I could hope to get on the paper was a C. And that's IF I max out on all the points she's allotting for the revisions. (I wouldn't be so marginal on the 'C' if this hag hadnt refused to accept a stage in this research paper process because we didn't turn it into her office when she wasn't at class the night it was due -- but that is a long story that just feeds my ulcer.) So, basically I'm looking at 'D' on the paper more likely than not. Which blows. I feel DUMB to be looking at getting a D on anything. I don't feel like a D student and it's depressing to realize that this friggin' class with this worthless teacher is going to cost me my 4.0 gpa. But, I also realize that part of my grade is based on my poor attitude about the class and my inability to take it seriously enough to really do the work -- which just plays back into my feeling dumb.

Next up, work life. I have moved to a new unit in the last month or so where my responsibilities are now 99% related to issuing Homeowners Insurance. The move means that I am now reporting to a new "senior." Whenever someone wants something that is outside of the box, it has to be sent over to an Underwriter for approval. (An example of something outside of the box in Insurance World would be an older house with old electrical systems; someone who works out of their home and has lots business inventory in the house; or someone who has a had a lot of property claims.) Before it goes to the Underwriter, my senior reviews it and makes a recommendation. My senior is somewhat old school and MUCH more thorough than I am. I came to work on Wednesday morning and three out of four of the referrals I sent over the day before had been kicked back to me because they were lacking information or didn't have enough of the right information. This, too, made me feel really dumb because, like my school work, I have always really prided myself on my referrals. I have often been told that they are very good, very thorough, and my seniors in the past have always agreed with my recommendations. But, it's a new ball game. One of my first seniors used to talk very candidly with me about other people's referrals and how they missed the same things over and over and how lacking they were in most ways. I don't ever want anyone to think that about me. I take my work pretty seriously (though I'll grant most people would be a little surprised by that) and it's really important to me to have people respect what I do there. Not because I'm interested in climbing the corporate ladder or anything but just because I don't want to make anyone's life any harder than it has to be because that just comes back to bite you in the ass. So, I felt really bad about that. Took a while to get over. But, what're you going to do?

And then there was the Wine Festival yesterday, for the personal life aspect of my "Dumbest Week Ever" show. I got really schnockered and made a bit of an ass out of myself, in front of my husband's co-workers. Oops. It was the strangest thing. One minute I had a happy buzz on, buying some wine, and then the next I turned the corner onto Full On Drunk St. and was flashing on-lookers. (What IS it about me and flashing my boobs whenever I've been drinking? I swear I never did this before New Orleans so that is the only explanation I can come up with.) I don't like getting that drunk, I don't know why I do it other than "it seems like a good idea at the time". But I don't like how dumb I feel the next day when everyone tells me all the stupid things I do. This makes me feel dumb. Other people get drunk and they manage to keep their boobs in their shirts -- why can't I? It's not a good feeling and I'm having all kinds of day-after remorse. Which is THE worst kind of "dumb", because you can't change it -- you can't fix it or make it not happened. I can't cover my eyes and pretend it didn't happen. I only hope that I have really learned my lesson this time and can be just a LITTLE more moderate next time. But, don't bet the farm on it.

So, that's it. The Dumbest Week Ever. I'm sure this is what led to my "maybe I shouldn't blog anymore" post. I'm just frustrated with myself for letting myself down. I recognize that I do have high expectations of myself and that I beat myself up a lot when I don't meet them, I just don't know how to stop doing it.

I started the folowing post from work a few days ago...

Talk the talk?

I am really starting to think that I am an introvert. This will shock the shoes off of most people who know me but I can’t think of any other explanation…

My best friend got married this weekend and I was in the wedding. It was a beautiful occasion – something right out of Bride magazine, swear. I was surrounded by her friends and those she held most dear and was embarrassed to find myself nearly crippled with the prospect of carrying on even the most basic of small talk. All I seemed to be able to do was talk about how I couldn’t talk. This is not normal.

I’ve been thinking about my social circle at work. I know quite a few people around my office but am close with but a scant few. And even then, close is in a “work sense.” I eat lunch with the same people every day and that’s an exercise in anti-socializing right there – we each read or do the crossword puzzle or both. When it’s the same people every day, you can only do but so much catching up and who wants to talk about work in the only break you get?

>>> And now here it is a few days later and I still haven't posted. I feel like I've lost my knack, my blogging edge. Part of it is this introversion thing that's coming over me. The inability to really relate to vast amounts of people the way that I used to. Part of it has been my friggin' writing class at school. It's EXTREMELY demoralizing to take Freshman Comp at 31 and realize that all the years you thought you could turn a clever and intelligent phrase were just a dream. I barely have the desire to sit in front of the computer and type out a phrase. It's just not what I intended... And then, I was introduced to Cattiva's blog. ("Does this mean I'm a grown-up" over on the side.) I love it -- it's got so much of what I started out blogging for. The witty little insights into silly little things that have happened. I think I used to be pithier. Or something. Now I feel like I'm preachy or whining and neither one of these things were where I want to be. That's just so cookie cutter and I'm not really about cookie cutters. I don't even bake, for pity's sake. Back to Catt in a minute...

I think part of that is because I started sending more and more people links over here and telling them that I was out here blogging and then I felt pressured to put out a good product and that just led to me either not blogging or whining and being preachy. (HUGE run-on sentence, and then I wonder why I get bad grades in English? Oy!) Because, I was telling all these people to read and I didn't want to say things to offend them or shock them or whatever. Silly. I'm just as likely to say things to shock or offend them to their faces as I am here in this blog.

So, Catt. She's out there, doing that witty anecdote thing and talking about her family. Sheesh, her tribute to her daughter just made ME want to have kids, for pity's sake. And we all know how unlikely THAT is. (Despite people holding polls about the question as a new parlour game.) So, if I'm not writing as much as I used to -- pop in on Catt's blog and you'll see what I admire in blogging. (Ish, what kind of sycophant have I become?)

I'm off to eat the rest of my dictionary and contemplate my introversion and the direction of blogging, etc. Maybe I'll chill out with the Bloom County gang for a while. I always liked that dude in the wheelchair -- Cutter John? What was his name?

You know who I mean.

Please do not dump a lot of hatorade on me for what I'm about to say.

I don't know much about politics and what goes on in the world today. This is inexcusable but I've just been so busy examining my navel for most of my life that I've been unable to focus on much else. I realize in retrospect that this is not quite as good of an excuse as I had orginally thought. So, I'm trying.

One of my known readers has recently blogged about those who vote without information. I admit to having fallen into this category in the past. I wanted to be part of the process, I wanted to be a voter, so I voted. I tried to be informed, after all I have some basic ideologies, and tried to vote for the people who seemed to represent these same ideologies...

And here we are today.

I'm trying to get informed. I've been watching the debates and here are some of the things I've gathered. The Republicans seem to like to take key phrases and pepper them through the party and through the media outlets that they control. ("wrong war, wrong time", "global test", "flip-flopper", etc) It makes me sick to hear the same phrases over and over and over again. Sound bites, buzz words, catch phrases, whatever you want to call it -- makes me feel like someone is trying to manipulate me and I don't like it.

I'll go on record saying this -- Bush screwed up getting us into this war but in some ways you have to admire his tenacity for sticking to the decision no matter how screwed up it is. I would like to believe that the reason for this is because he feels it is important to show a strong face as the President and not let his guard down. I would LIKE to believe this, but I don't. I think that he really thinks he's doing the right thing continuing this mess and that scares the fuck out of me.

I appreciate the fact that Kerry seems to be a thinking man. He voted to go into Iraq based on the information he had and then has changed his position because there was no real reason for us to be there. Sure, Saddam Hussein was a bad ass mother, but he wasn't posing any imminent threat to the US. Or that's not the way I understand it. (See above.)

I don't know much about the budget either, but this deficit thing I'm thinking isn't a good thing. If I spent all of my household money and then spent way into the negatives, I think the bank would have some things to say about that. Maybe that's just me. I like that John Edwards said flat out tonight that they can't cure that problem -- honesty is so refreshing! Much more refreshing than denial and rhetoric. Cheney with his "I never said there was a connection between Iraq and 9/11" honestly made me gasp. I haven't been that shocked since the Mominator called out of the blue and asked Scott if he wanted any kittens...

Anyways, I'm not voting for Bush, I don't mind saying it. It's basically because I don't like his politics and I don't like his "people" and I think the amount of discord and hate that's been generated in this country under his administration is appalling. And scary.

But, what do I know? I'm just an uninformed American.

HOUSTON, WE HAVE BANGS

I've never been someone who has been afraid to experiment with my hair, especially the color. I think my coloring fetish probably began when my mother first told me that I could NOT color my hair ever. Many years later my defiance of this order would eventually lead me to become a cautionary tale known simply as "the Feria girl." (The short version is this -- if you think that you may ever want to have your hair PROFESSIONALLY colored then do NOT color privately with Feria.)

Nevertheless, none of this experimentation has led me into the bangs path. I lived in South Dakota for a while and had huge 80's like hair with teased bangs to boot. It's a powerful temptation to tease those suckers and I'm weak, I tell you, weak. AND I have a cowlick that encourages teasing, so I have avoided the bangs. Since moving out of the midwest I've taken some proud in having modern hair. (No, most people in the midwest do not have dated hair but it is a phenomenon that has no explanation.) But, lately so-called modern hair has been sporting a lot of bangs. I like the look on other people and have been drawn to it so many times but always back off because it's a commitment. Hair color is definitely not a commitment that can't be changed but hair length -- yes. (Unless you're Christina Aguilera and have a closet full of tracks as my hairdress likes to point out.) But, I caved. I already had a shorter piece around my face, it didn't seem like much of a leap. I realized this wasn't the case when I got home and my napping husband's first response was "you got bangs."

I should say that Scott has never been one of those men who's particularly adament about what I should or shouldn't do with my hair. You know what I mean -- "I can't cut my hair, George just LOOOOVES my long hair." Fuck George, he isn't washing it, drying it, buying products for it, staring at its split ends, can't see when it's windy, can't drive with the windows down, blah blah blah. George will get used to short hair, damn it! Frankly, that is the kind of spiteful bitch I am, which I admit isn't always conducive to the most tender of relationships. However, this is the only thing that I'm pretty rampantly a feminazi about. I just feel like there enough pressure from society to look a certain way, and damn it George can't you just love me with my buzz cut? (Why am I picking on George?? I don't even know anyone named George!)

Where was I? Oh, Scott... So yes, he's never been one of those "don't cut your hair, don't dye your hair, don't wash your hair, etc" guys. He has opinions, but he really doesn't care as long as I look somewhat normal and not scare him when he wakes up. But one thing he's been pretty insistent about is that he doesn't like bangs, doesn't want me to have them. Who knows? Perhaps this is the driving force in getting them -- to show him! But, actually it turned out that Scott didn't really know what bangs were. He thought it meant I would have that page boy thing going on with the thick, curled under thing. I realized this when I started asking what he thought about certain actress's hairstyles. "Do you like HER hair? How about if I cut my hair like that?" Many times I would get at least a moderately positive response and would have to explain that THOSE were bangs. Granted, no matter how much he said he liked it, he always followed it with "why can't you just keep your hair the same?" but I'm not going for an overwhelming endorsement -- I just need a little push.

I'm not sure about the bangs. I think they look pretty cute but I forgot about the impractical part -- just how often they get in the way and how I don't really know what to do with them.

Let me say this (especially to Lori if you're still out there and aren't plotting my demise and torture): it's just hair. And if I like it or don't like it, it doesn't matter. I LOVE the person who does my hair (see Ode to my Hairdress, 3/1/04) and enjoy my frequent hair visits because it means I get to visit with HER frequently. If I don't like the bangs, it doesn't mean I don't like the artist. I knew going in there that I might not like it. I've been with her longer than I've been with some of my friends AND my husband -- I'm not going anywhere. Scott says I shouldn't share with her his "you got bangs" comment. Maybe not. But, it's just hair and I hope that she doesn't ever think I'm diminishing her abilities if something doesn't work for me. If it doesn't work, we'll do something different next time. Besides, some of the things I wasn't that crazy about at first I wound up really loving after a while. It's all a matter of adaptation. And it's just hair!

"You might be procrastinating writing your research paper when..."

*you can't fight the urge to blog, which has been absent for the last several days

*you have the urge to exercise and get fresh air, both of which are usually dreaded more than going to the dentist in the average person

*you wish you had a dental appointment, as getting your teeth drilled is a less painful alternative than the idea of sitting down and putting your rambling thoughts into a coherent paper

*you consider watching football with your sleeping spouse

*you do laundry or dishes, vacuum, or mentally redesign your bathroom/kitchen/whole f-ing house

*you feel compelled to do Math homework

*you decide it's time to finish writing those thank you notes from your (no-so)recent wedding

*you offer to cook dinner

*you catch up on your correspondence, phone calls with the air of one who is about to do hard time in prison

*you clean the catbox

*you start trying to write your Christmas list or trying to come up with things to do for New Years Eve

*you shop online... after all, many presents to buy for coming events, can't put that off!

*you play Solitaire as if you were about to enter a national competition

*you actually balance your checkbook

*you consider dropping out of school but realize you would have to pay back your employer since it's after the official Add/Drop date

And therefore, you go back to writing your research paper....

Every now and again I have one of those "I'm really NOT single anymore -- duh!" moments. You may laugh because this seems like such an obvious thing to realize but it doesn't always sink in. Considering that I spend many nights staring over the top of my computer at the living embodiment of my lack of singleness, it surprises me too.

The lack of singleness is particularly glaring on Monday morning when I am asked what I did all weekend and I have to struggle to remember. And not for the same reasons that I used to struggle to remember. (Those glaring reminders that I WASN'T single.) I would struggle to find a story that could be shared with the rest with my fellow cube-mates that wouldn't land me in HR. There were times it was more of a struggle than others. Domesticity doesn't have the same juicy vignettes, as it turns out. It's not that I'm bored, it's that I miss the juicy tidbits.

After all, the juiciest thing that happens in my married life is if we have a "run in." And while it used to be fun to pick those things apart with anyone and everyone willing to listen, when you're married you join a cult. A Relationship Cult. You don't talk about the run-ins or the imperfections. That would mar the dream for everyone else, especially my single friends. They all need to believe that what they pine for is WORTH pining for, or what would be the point?? So, you don't share your run-ins and this can often leave much out of the recounting of your weekend. Not to mention leaving your blog a little lacking in material.

What's the answer? Talk about the spats and pick them apart for all of your friends (and all of the internet)? I'm against that. The spats tend to expand to the nth degree when exposed to air. However, sitting on the spats has been known to cause hemorrhoids. (This is scientific fact, my friends.) I've often thought about trying to pick up some hobby that I could get really into to exorcise the Spat Demons, but what if we were in a heavy spat zone and I crocheted 17 sweaters? I'm thinking someone would figure this to be a sign.

So, it's the Relationship Cult that keeps your tales short and your blogs less bloggy. Because the fact is if I were posting some of the stuff that comes up in arguments, it really could make some people laugh til they peed in their pants. I'm not making this up, it's crazy. This weekend it was about grapes. I mean, seriously. Grapes. It doesn't get any sillier than this.

I guess I should take that grapes of wrath stuff more seriously next time, huh?

I've been worshipping at the altar of my rabbit again. If you can get past the subject line, scroll down to the 9/15 piece and there we have the single person's take on "The Child Thing." I LOVE the fact that she calls herself a "thirty-something childless whore who loves her dog a little too dearly".

It's not that I regret taking the leap into settled down and NOT swingle, but it's comments like that that make me miss that attitude of being single and not settled down. The busting doors down and Full Heather Jacket in your face attitude. Frankly, it didn't win me a lot of friends or influence anyone, but damn it -- it was fun for me. And in the overall scheme, who matters more? If I'm fun for everyone else and not for me, what is the friggin' point??

As for winning friends and influencing people, just to digress -- I can't really be bothered to do that even now. I mean, shit, I don't even have time for the friends I have NOW -- how dare I try to bring anyone else into the ranks? It's some weird addiction to people that makes me keep reaching out, maybe. There's this girl in my math class that's pretty cool. We joke together about how taxed our brains are. It really brings me back to high school and Grace Shen and I in the back of Algebra II/Trig, Sophomore year. That was maybe some of the most fun I had in high school... Anyways, enough on that some other time. Perhaps in Heather's long lost friends episode. (Note just for me: this will always make me think of sexually transmitted diseases, eh?) Where was I? Ah, girl in math class. I realized that I wished we could become friends when she uttered the phrases "conjunction junction, what's your function?" right after it had just ran through my head. 'This is not a reference everyone is familiar with, these people don't grow on trees, get her in the fold!" my brain was screaming.

But, I can't. I don't exactly have the Midas touch when it comes to acquiring new friends. More often than not, after people become friends with me their lives inevitably just get fucked up. It's a weird coincidence and I'm not saying that *I* am to blame, but it has happened more than once which is cause for pause. If, shortly after becoming friends with me, your boyfriend were to dump you and then force you into a situation where you still had to live with him as his roommate because you couldn't find anywhere else to live... If, shortly after becoming friends with me, you leave your relatively secure job for a new exotic position which turned out to be managed by a psycho and then when you were laid off were prevented from returning to the previous secure job because of the previously mentioned psycho... Well, if these things happened to you, you'd be wondering about the kharma too. I'm just saying.

Off to the dump to rid my car of boxes -- woo hoo!

It's been rather random inside Heather's head... Here are some of the things I jotted down that I wanted to throw on the blog...

I got to talk to My Diane, one of my favorite people in the world last night, and she was asking about the wedding. And I was like OH, that was soooo long ago. I think she thought something was remiss with my tone, but it's no -- it was just so long ago. It's amazing how 2 months can seem like such a long time when things that happened years and years ago seem to have just happened. I am ALWAYS amazed by this -- it's one of the most intriguing parts about getting older, to me.

Diane says she doesn't have a savings plan for retirement because her plan is for her kids to be rich and take care of her. I replied that I have Scott for this. He replied with a big, booming Scott-like HA!

We don't really want to be rich though, Diane and I, we just want to have enough money to take a trip. I think she feels a little guilty that she couldn't come to the wedding. To which I responded -- I would rather have you visit my MARRIAGE than my wedding, then you can really see what it's like and I can really get to spend time with you.

Other thoughts... Sometimes when someone asks me something, I get so wrapped up in my explanation that I have actually forgotten the question. I'm searching their faces that my answer is getting closer to the question, some sort of sign. Sometimes I see it and I'll keep talking about what I'm talking about. Wouldn't it be easier to just admit that I've forgotten the question or didn't understand it?

"The Apprentice" is back and it's better than ever -- my tv addiction will never end! I get so irritated whenever the men isolate a woman to be fired and I always think "Oh it's because she's a woman and she's strong..." But in the reverse situation, I always think "Oh the man's an ass and he deserves it!" Um, oops! [Sidenote: Cannot BELIEVE that Bradford was so dumb he let himself get fired when he had a FREEBIE! Dumb dumb dumb -- he deserved to be fired!]

Favorite Apprentice quotes: "Mosaic is kicking our ass in such a big way and we don't even know it."

"You could put dog feces in this that ice cream and it is going to taste good."

Yikes -- seriously need to go to work!

Shameless plug for my fabulous husband's blog: http://parttimesuperhero.blogspot.com/

He's deviated from the Mominator story, but truthfully -- who wants to talk about THAT?

My topic won't be quite so serious. In fact, I am now vowing to not read HIS stuff before posting my own because it just makes me feel even more shallow. Ha, as if it were possible for me to feel MORE shallow! ("As opposed to being from the planet 'look at me, look at me'")

Speaking of being shallow, it's amazing to me that as I add new and more costly things to my list of beauty indulgences, ultimately the only purpose they ever seem to serve is to add to my ever-present burden of guilt over... everything really. Not sure where all this guilt came from.

Here's an example. I got my first facial this weekend at this eclectic spa in Richmond. [Sidenote: doesn't it make me sound oh-so chi-chi to have gone all the way to Richmond just to go to a spa? If you'd been to the spa, you would see, however, why I chose to use the word eclectic. I mean, when you're scheduling a group of four people, does it NOT make sense to have 4 different people to provide their services? I'm just saying... Not that I'm bitter about this.] During the course of the facial, I basically felt as though I was confessing all of the ways in which I had sinned against my face, while in a chair that closely resembled the dentist. This just made me more confused and I started to confess about how infrequently I floss. That just led to further guilt about not writing my mother more often, the woman who should have taught me better flossing habits. Augh, now I'm thinking bad thoughts about my mother which is causing my brow to furrow which can only cause wrinkles which are further exacerbated by my tanning, smoking and lack of water drinking bad habits.

Sigh.

No wonder I can't relax. It's a never ending cycle, this guilt thing. How can a person who grew up a spoiled only child feel so guilty about getting things and having things and not doing enough things or doing too many things?? Is it because I feel I can never repay the debt? Don't I work hard to have the things that I do and to keep the people in my life if not completely happy at least not miserable? Why do I feel so guilty? Why is it never enough?

I have so much that goes on inside my head sometimes that I just want to release the pressure valve and let it all out and start over. Let's have some fresh thoughts in here, fresh ideas. No more guilt over things I can't control. No more guilt over things I WON'T control. No more self-abuse. No more passive aggressiveness. No more... NEUROSES!

Well, maybe I'll keep the neuroses for a little while longer. I believe I can be me without them, but they're fun to have around. It's nice to bring them out and show them to certain people sometimes and shock them with their rawness. It's always so funny to me, the people that I come across who really think that I am that Heather Show they always see. That really think I have no downs and no lulls and that really think I am truly as balls to the wall as I pretend I am. I think this is why I'm so prone to questioning that behavior in other people. But then again, that's probaby just projection.

We-ell, I'm dangerously close to wandering all over 7000 different philosophic rants about the nature of being human, but it's late but not too late to ease my withdrawal pangs a little by feeding my addiction a few pages of my book. (I'm reading The Crimson Petal and The White,if you're interested.)

I can't believe I have to admit this, but I really didn't know what it meant to be in a red state vs. a blue state. I just knew that in some states, it apparently "doesn't matter" if you vote or not because it's already decided. (This is sad. Can I move to a state where it matters? How much time do I have??)

Anyways, while searching for this information -- I came across a "are you red or blue" quiz, which was interesting. As it turns out, because I happen to know a lot of "red facts" I come across as red.

Who knew?

My list of things to do is ever-increasing and source of consternation in my marriage. This is pretty funny considering that it's mostly things that I have to do and he doesn't even really know how long this list is. (it's long -- very long.) I spend most waking moments shuffling my mental day planner trying to figure out when the fuck I'm going to clean my house again. Or even have time to nag him to do it! I have a weekend open the end of the month and I'm already convinced this must mean that I have forgotten something that I have to do. This is the only logical explanation.

After all, there's no way I REALLY have time to write a research paper in advance, do I? :-)

More than one draft, indeed!

I really want to blog because I'm here in Charlottesville for Katrina's bachelorette weekend. But, I'm tired and have drank wine all day and had a nervous breakdown last night (wow, will I really blog about that?) and just want to say... I love being able to overanalyze my life with women -- screw you Jennifer, talking is GOOD!

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and
the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and
endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)

I love this so much I would actually like to put it on the side wall of my blog. Believe it or not, this is almost my creed. Which is a bit contrary to my other philosophy

Practice random acts of sarcasm, and senseless acts of cynicism. -Heather *** (1973-?)

It's hard to have both of these desires at the same time! ;-)

Seriously, can anyone show me HOW to put this on the side wall of my blog? It's the closest I'll ever get to prayer, eh?

Just to break it down, though Lord knows I HATE to over-analyze things (see, random acts...) here are some of those things that I have managed to accomplish.

To laugh often and much: Well, I think we all know just how often and how much. Even my stoic grandmother can attest that I'm always laughing, always happy. And Tony Kahlua can mock me for hours about just how loud that is.

to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children: I don't think it counts that I have faked the funk and gotten the intelligent people to think I was one of them. I've never really had the affection of children and even when I have, it's very fleeting. Perhaps this can explain my issues with "the kid thing"? Anyways, these two things are yet to be checked off the list.

to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; I have occasionally touched on the appreciation of an honest critic, but only by virtue of an association with someone said critic ACTUALLY appreciated. (If I am interpreting this phrase correctly.) And if there is anyone who cannot recite the story by heart of my own endural of the betrayal of a false friend then raise your hands because you are few and far between. Julia, I already know you forgot but at least you remembered that you forgot -- it doesn't count.

to appreciate beauty: You can't live in South Dakota for 5 years and not be able to appreciate beauty. It's kind of outside your door most of the time.

to find the best in others; I struggle with this. I think to be able to see this, you have to find the best in yourself. I REALLY struggle with that.

to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy
child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life
has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)

I guess this is why I am so drawn to "damsels in distress." While I rarely acquire new friends at my age, it often seems as though when/if I do they are friends I'm trying to rescue. To provide misguided therapy to the desperate masses by sarcasm and blunt cynicism, that is my plan to save the world! :-)

Perhaps I should leave this stuff up to my husband the part time super-hero.

And tune in next time for And Baby Makes... Four?

blog is a word on weboggle

Heather (whining): No one ever comments on my blog anymore.
Scott (in a one-up manner): I only have 2 comments on MY blog.
H: You only have 2 posts!
S: Yeah, but one of them is you.
H: At least I COMMENT on your blog.
S: You don't ever say anything worth commenting on.
H: Now, that's some hurtful shit.
S: (Seinfeldian)What?! All you ever do is get on there and bitch about some stuff.

So, now I'm bitching about him saying I bitch about stuff. It really is a never-ending cycle!

Leave it to us, to fight over whose blog is bloggier.

H.

Do you ever have one of those days where you feel like ALL the years you spent trying to develop your self-esteem were completely in vain and all you've been doing is PRETENDING you have self-esteem all this time??

Errr, me neither.

Actually, yesterday was that day for me. I started out the day with the back pain I've been experiencing being at an all-time high. This made me start to get really paranoid that I had somehow re-aggravated the injury from cracking my vertebrae all those years ago. THIS made me remember HOW my back got cracked in the first place (thanks to my wonderful first husband) and reminded me once again what a complete idiot I was in the first place for staying with him after his complete and total lack of compassion throughout that whole ordeal. This is only 8 a.m. and I've already had a really healthy session of beating myself up. Only good things can follow!

Next, I'm driving to work and mentally mapping out an upcoming bachelorette weekend for one of my best friends. She has tagged me as her Maid (sigh, Matron, ick) of Honor and I just don't feel like I'm performing the task all that well. I mean, I have all kinds of rationalizations as to why, (I just got married, combining households, work full time, school part time, there's all this blogging to catch up) but they just sound like excuses and make me feel like I suck. We won't get into the planning of the weekend, but I'm not feeling up to my usual planning nazi level that usually makes us all so proud. (It's really not as easy as it looks to coordinate having 15 people at the same place at the same time all having fun on cue.) HP2 keeps trying to give me reassurances, but my self-esteem levels have reached levels that would cause a loud honking noise to go off if we were in a movie. (We are plummeting towards SelfEst 0. I repeat...) So, while it was a difficult task to accomplish because I am not a contortionist, I managed to get in a healthy dose of beating myself up on the way to work. Just feeling like, if this person who has been my friend for (yikes) 16 years can't rely on me -- who can???

THEN, I had invited a friend up for lunch at work. You would think I would remember this as I am always dying to have someone, anyone from the outside come up to see me (I have begged my husband every day since the beginning of beyond) and it never happens. When you only get half an hour for lunch, you don't have time to go out and see the world and let me tell you -- you miss the world more than you think you will. But, I digress. I didn't remember. I completely forgot and to top it off, my lunch was earlier than usual. So, she came up and waited and waited and waited in the lobby (the security at work rivals the Republican National Convention, no lie)... By the time I found out she was there (came back from lunch to a plaintive voicemail "uh, guess you forgot to tell the guy I was coming..."), she'd already waited probably 20 minutes and I couldn't even go see her because I had a meeting. Tony Kahlua to the rescue. I hate having other people clean up my messes, and this caused yet another round of knocking myself about.

We have our team meeting. I am reminded once again that I am not contributing to the overall welfare of the team because of my limited referrals (this is a work thing, takes too long to explain)... Two other co-workers and I are leaving to go to another team in a couple of weeks and one of the departing co-workers was greatly mourned because of her high level of referrals. We're REALLY going to miss her. They may miss me, but it's only going to help their bottom line when I'm gone. Sigh. Pow, pow.

I come home. It's been a long day of explaining hurricanes and their effects on your insurance. Scott has to work late and comes home to no dinner. This makes me feel like a bad wife. Yeah, I felt bad because of my back, but there are worse things in life and I should've sucked it up and fixed the man something to eat. Bam, pow. He was very supportive and thinking I was a little off in the head -- after all, when have I ever cared that I didn't cook?? Oddly, that just makes me feel worse.

Anyways. It's a new day. I'm a little better on the SelfEst scale, no alarms should sound today.

But then again, I have a Math test tonight and there's nothing like forgetting how to multiply to kick that back into the downward spiral...

Someone sent me one of those "get to know you" quizzes. This is one of the best ones I've seen in a while and I got such a kick out of it that I'm posting it.

Get to know me -- again!

I love this stuff!


1. First name: Heather

2. Were you named after anyone? no, Mom heard the name in a grocery store and loved it

3. Do you wish on stars? sometimes

4. Which finger is your favorite? left hand, ring finger -- corny

5. When did you last cry? week ago Sunday

6. Do you like your handwriting? not anymore -- darn these computers

7. What is your favorite lunch meat? hard salami -- I just realized how phallic that sounds...

8. Any bad habits? The question is: any good habits?

9. What is your most embarrasssing CD on the shelf? I have a Barry Manilow. Yeah, I said it. Singing with the Big Bands

10. If you were another person, would YOU be friends with you? probably not -- I'm a little intense for me

11. Are you a daredevil? no, not really

12. Have you ever told a secret you swore not to tell? yes, I probably have -- but I have kept lots of really good ones

13. Do looks matter? yes

14. How do you release anger? By picking on Tony Kahlua

15. Where is your second home? wherever Scott is

16. Do you trust others easily? Depends on who they are. Sometimes I will pick up a vibe on people and trust them with all kinds of stuff and then OOPS that was a mistake!

17. What was your favorite toy as a child? my doll Sally

18. What class in school do you think is totally useless? Well, I don't see why science is a requirement but I'm such a nerd that I never think any knowledge is useless

19. Do you have a journal? yes, but I don't write it in as much thanks to the blog

20. Do you use sarcasm alot? Do you breathe a lot?

21. Have you ever been in a mosh pit? a very very very long time ago

22. What do you look for in a guy/girl? I like to laugh more than anything -- I'm willing to overlook most things if you just make me laugh

23. What are your nicknames? in my adult life, the ONLY nickname I ever had that stuck was "Red"

24. Would you bungee jump? yes

25. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? I barely own shoes that tie but mostly, no

26. Do you think that you are strong? no

27. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Breyers Coffee holds alltime longest but MooseTracks is a big favorite

28. Shoe size? 8 1/2 W

29. What are your favorite colors? RED, purple

30. What is your least favorite thing? anything I HAVE to do

31. How many wisdom teeth do you have? none

32. How many people have a crush on you right now? gonna go with none

33. What do you miss the most right now? this is such a strange question. RIGHT now the thing I miss the most is a pendant I have lost. I have friends that I'm not as close to as I used to be or people who left my life -- I miss them a lot

34. Favorite food? Sushi

35. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings

36. Relationships or one night stands? I think the one night stands might be a problem with my marriage

37. Favorite board game? I don't have a favorite board game but I love Boggle and Cribbage


Feel free to cut and paste and send back -- I would like to get to know you too.