CINGULAR SUCKS

I wanted to make sure that was in the biggest font possible. Too bad I don't have one any bigger.

I really don't want to post this entire story, because I am just tired of ranting and raving about it. The long and the short of it is that Cingular sucks, and I beg of any of you that if you have any reason of thinking of switching to this company that you leave. This has been THE worst customer service experience of my life.

The bottom line is that I did what they told me to do, and now I don't have cell phone service until my new phone gets here. Sigh.

I mean, I KNEW I was addicted to my phone. I knew this. But, not having it is honestly just incredibly depressing. I had no idea how many quick little phone calls I made throughout the day and really relied on. Little connections to Scott, especially, (not just nagging, sometimes just to hear his voice when I was having a bad day); to make plans for the night or the week or whatever; to pay bills; just so many, many things. And even though it has just been a day and a half, I really feel just lost without my little buddy. Not that I was crazy about the Nokia phone that I had, but at least it worked and was supported by a company.

But, you know what... Cingular Fed-Ex'ed my phone to me after my last tiraded call. So, maybe they aren't THAT evil.

We'll see how it does when it finally gets here...

XOXO
the Cynic

I am temporarily without cell phone service. I am LOST and ALONE and CONFUSED.

More on this later, because it is quite the tale to tell.

Nevertheless, I would call you to tell you about it but I cannot.

Sigh.

The Forwarder

I have a very dear friend who has a serious addiction problem. She is addicted to forwarding emails. I didn't realize this was something you could become addicted to, until I met Rose. Frankly, she's so addicted that when she meets new people and asks them for their email address, I will jump across table to try to prevent them from giving it to her before it's too late.

It's always too late. Rose can get email address faster than those spammer people do. And even though I know it's ridiculous crazy stuff that she forwards, because it's from my friend I can't NOT read it. That is not an option.

The funny thing is that many of her forwards are contradictory. She claims to have liberal values and then will send forwards out bashing liberals. She claims to not be an overtly devout person and then sends me Rosary poems. It's CRAZY, I tell you.

She sends many of the AOL or Gap or Outback Steakhouse will rebate you money if you forward this to enough people. Scott has demanded the money from her that he is entitled to from all the times she's forwarded this.

But the ones I find the most outrageous are the "people have died because they failed to follow simple instructions to keep this forward going." Um, that's a chain letter, Rose.

You don't believe that there are still forwards that say people will die if you don't forward it? HA! Read on -- this is an ACTUAL line from an ACTUAL Rose forward...

">CASE 1: Kelly Sedey had one wish, for her boyfriend of three years, David Marsden, to propose to her. Then one day when she was out to lunch David proposed! She accepted, but then had to leave because she had a meeting in 20 min. When she got to her office, she noticed on her computer she had some e-mail's.>She checked it, the usual stufffrom her friends, but then she saw one> that she had never gotten before.>It was this poem. She simply deleted it without even reading all of it. BIG MISTAKE! Later that evening, she received a phone call from the police It was about DAVID! He had been in an accident with an 18 wheeler. He didn't survive!<"

There were two more cases after this one, the next one almost as comical. Basically, the poor girl didn't have enough people's email addresses to forward it to, so she too met an unfortunate vehicular fate. (Note: Who does not have at least 10 people's email addresses if their LIVES depended on it? Is she homeless??) Luckily, in the last case, the man was wise enough to IMMEDIATELY send the forward on, not wanting to press his 3 hour forward window (bad luck operators are standing by to fuck up your life if you do not comply with our wishes) and met his first true love walking down the street (she was a hooker) and they got married and have three beautiful children who eat all of their vegetable and don't talk to strangers or put strange things up their noses.

No, I'm not going to post the silly poem here. I would inadvertently be complying with the forward requirement... Well, maybe not -- do 10 people even read my blog? Doubtful! It's basically a Hallmark-y kind of thing saying if you don't keep in touch with your friends then they're going to die and won't you be sorry.

Sheesh, if you weren't so busy forwarding them chain letters you'd probably have time to keep in touch before they died, don't you think?

I replied to my friend Rose and said that I was NOT going to forward it to anyone and if bad bad things happened to me it was ALL on her for sending me the bad luck charm in the first place. After all, if I had never received the poem then not forwarding it would have caused me NO ill will.

Of course, then again I did have a too-short haircut today, so perhaps this is advanced punishment for knowing I wouldn't forward the poem. (Aww, don't freak out L -- the bangs were just shorter than I anticipated. And surprise -- Scott liked the cut a lot but wanted blonder... Some men are just more impossible than others.)

So, if I die from Rose's forward, I want to tell the world that I loved every minute of it!! Well, except for the Tom years, but other than that!

The Heather Show

Every time I get home from English class, all I want to do is write! I am sure it's because I have spent the whole night talking about writers and I just want to get IN.

This semester was such a refreshing change from last semest in English -- even factoring in the changing of professors MID-TERM. We read some interesting things, but mostly we had interesting discussions. It's just so nice to be in a place where I am learning to THINK again. Unfortunately, what I have really learned about myself is that I really need that first push to get the think button started. I am not my own think tank by any means -- I need that boost from other people. I am able to build and expand on others' ideas, but can't really come up with them on my own much. It's a hard fact to face.

The other thing about class is that I get to put on my Heather show. You've seen this show, right? The song, the dance, the jokes, the laughter, the tears. It's all in there. When I have intelligent people to feed off of, it is a dangerous thing. More push. I really like to put on the Heather show.

But. (There's always a but with me, isn't there?) I think the hard thing is that I can't always put on the show -- sometimes I don't want to do the song, the dance, the jokes, the laughter. That is the hardest part, because people really do believe that I AM the show. And they believe this because I make them believe it. I don't want them to know that it's just me standing in a cardboard box pretending I'm on tv -- I want them to think I AM the tv. And a lot of time, they do. Because aren't we all just trying to figure out own lives and where it fits in and who has time to analyze the show? Are YOU analyzing the shows of your acquaintances or do you accept the show at face value?

You accept, because it's just less complicated to accept. I ACCEPT that. After all, I am the producer and creativer director of the show -- if I didn't want you to buy our product, I wouldn't be promoting it so strongly. But, what goes along with that is that there will be people I will never get to know beyond their role as audience in my show, because... They do not have time to understand and I do not want to expose the level of neediness it would take to get beyond the Humor Walls.

And even though I sound almost bitter about it, the truth is that I'm not. Because the hard truth is that if I am putting on the show, then I don't have to come out of my cardboard box and be a real person and get to know YOU and what's behind your show.

And, there IS that.

My brother

I've been drinking wine tonight because I've been having problems sleeping, so I thought... Why not wine?

Why not indeed?

Just the right amount of wine makes me just the right amount of sentimental. And tonight, that sentimentality (word?) has lead me to think about "my brother".

I don't have a real brother -- I am an only child, as everyone knows. But, I have always considered "JD" my brother. He is my godmother's youngest and I have known him as long as I have been alive. We hung out this past weekend for the first time in years.

It was awesome. I learned that my brother and me, we have more in common than I thought. But, more than anything, I remembered why I think of him as my brother. Because he's so fun and so real at the same time. I know that if I were ever in a capital r real jam that my brother would be there for me. I do not know how I know this, and I had not thought about it before this weekend but it really came to me. Not that JD is known for his "being-there-ness", I give him shit about his being there for my godmom on a regular basis. But, still... I know. It's nice to know.

It's nice to know that someone that close to me knows (far more than I) what it's like to not have your dad around. It's nice to know that someone actually gets my sense of humor. It's nice to know that someone can love his mom as much as I do, and yet still be driven completely insane by her at the same time.

JD is something else. He has a brother, but I don't consider HIS brother MY brother -- if that makes any sense. I love his brother, and I'm sure in his own way his brother loves me too. But, JD and I are closer in age, closer in Zodiac sign (if you buy into that crap), and just closer in understanding what it's really all about. Or, I would like to think so.

My favorite way to get him to do things for me is to remind him that I taught him what sex is. No, not in THAT way -- trust. We were too too young; I just told him what it was. He had no idea, but his wife says he's figured it out really well now and thanks for that. I don't care about all that, I just need the leverage. :-)

So, this one is for my brother JD -- next time you hear that Devo song, Whip It -- you think of me, and let everyone else wonder why, okay? Heh, heh.

kisses all --

HPL

What year was 'size 8'?

If you really want to have a reality check (and, trust me, I understand if you don't), then cleaning out your closet is a good way to start.

Wow.

There were LOTS of things I have been saving to fit back in to. The problem is that I have to keep buying stuff to fit into and never seem to go back in time to those previous sizes. (And the title is a huge joke -- size 8 was in the 90's... The EARLY 90's.)

Granted, I've started working out recently. But, I haven't put my back into my work-out (and, trust me again, my back shows it) and it doesn't look like my time to go to the gym is going to be increasing any time soon. And then I had the even bigger epiphany -- many of the clothes in my closet I would not wear again even if I could fit in to them.

Still, it's not the happiest experience on earth. Except for maybe the nostalgia. Look, honey, here's the dress I was wearing when you felt me up in the lifeguard stand. It's depressing to see the cute clothes that I have allowed myself to grow out of. The only "good" thing is that I routinely buy cheap clothes, so at least I haven't lost a life savings or anything. This is part of the reason, though, that there isn't the motivation to get back in to these clothes. Because they were poorly made in the first place, never great looking, etc -- I'm okay with giving them away.

I still have some stuff in there that I am saving to fit back in to. But, the amount of stuff is much less than it was before.

Now I have more room to rifle around and then sigh... I have nothing to wear!

Like a babbling brook or rambling rose...

Too bad there's no H word to go along with that... Lately I feel like I have "nothing to say." Someone asks me how things are going, I will generally say "about the same" or "same old, same old" or something along these lines. These are the times that make me feel boring and wish that I had something exciting to contribute. The trouble is that when when things are not boring, that is generally not such a good thing. Not boring = drama in my world and I am against that.

Yes, I have been known to stir up the drama to have something to ponder, but on a general level -- not really a fan.

So, when there's "boring" what to blog about? Hence my lengthy diatribes on friendships and the meaning thereof. Perhaps if I were out developing hobbies I might pick up some of these friends I'm always whining about.

Indeed. But who has time for that?

I'd much rather be whining and babbling to you -- my invisible internet friends. Hello.

I could expose some of the truths behind the sacred walls of marriage. But, there really isn't anything terribly too exciting to reveal if anyone who wasn't involved in it would realize if they ever bothered to think about it.

Which is probably a revelation of something in and of itself.

So, let's ramble about that since I feel the need to clack on the keyboard and if I talk about Smallville anymore then I run the risk of scaring off my 4 remaining readers. (Although DAMN it was a good episode tonight! Juxtaposing good Lex and bad Lex with the question of what makes up our true nature?? You just did not ever get that stuff on Friends, I'm sorry.)

Marriage is a sacred thing. The religious spin on it alone is enough to "prove" that. But, society as seen through Hollywood really holds this out as truth. The fact that half of them do not work does not seem to be deterring anyone from believing that it's a big old band aid to cure what ails you. But, it's just crap. Marriage isn't sacred. It's just two people who have decided that they would rather exclusively put up with each other's crap than sort through the myriad of alternative crap that available out there. Generally, there is some sort of carrot that ultimately pulls you into this exclusive union and usually it's love. Or something we call love.

But let's be serious. What I think of as love and you think of as love are probably two different things. We are as different on the inside as we are on the outside so the idea that we could all have the same idea of what love means is ridiculous. There is no way it can mean the same to all of us because we all process things based on who we are. So, even though we are drawn to our mates by something called love, what they think is love and what we think is love may not equal out to be the same thing. There are lots of things that Scott does for me in the name of his love for me. And vice versa. (Not just the dirty things, you heathens.) But, does he do the things for me that I consider to mean love? Do I do the things for him that he considers love? Not always. Because how can we know unless there is a clear set of parameters? And who wants to have that when that seems to put limits on love? Isn't it more important to accept these love gestures for what they are and try to have your own gestures accepted as such in return?

Well, sure. But, that's not really that easy. That's what marriage is, I think. Figuring out what those guidelines are with someone who is willing to put up with your crap exclusively. At least, that is what I have so far.

I do know that I learn more on the journey with this man than I have ever in my life. So maybe this love stuff is something after all, eh?

On a skew tangent -- go see Fever Pitch. Thought it was totally adorable really addressed the theme of relationship sacrifices on a level heretofore unseen. More realistic, ironically. (No, I haven't read the Nick Hornby book and yes, I know that I should)

Also, JAR if you are reading -- happy birthday on Sunday! 31 girlfriend, you are officially in your 30's now -- suck it up! (The lemons after your tequila shots, that is)

xoxo y'all

TODAY IS MY TWO YEAR BLOG-I-VERSARY! YAY!

It's not like this is a date I have set on my calendar or anything, but it did just so happen that I looked up the original entry (p-u, cheeeeeesy!) and happened to notice the date.

I just looked at last year and not only did I not notice the date, but I had a rather rambling post about how I wasn't inspired to post anymore.

I'm still not overly inspired, but Lord knows how I loooooooves to hear myself talk and... there you go.

Just a quicky, gotta go get ready for work but wanted to note that I noted the day.

Or something.

love you mean it --

HPL

Friend Dating

What I should be writing about was our fascinating camping experience. But, you can only tell a leaking air mattress story so many times without getting tired of telling it...

But, as part of our fascinating camping experience, we went to a Sertoma event at the Holiday Travel Park campground. They should call it Drunkapalooza, but inexplicably they do not. If I were in charge of the naming, that would definitely be a contender! It was an all-day, all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink affair. That's right -- all you can DRINK. Good stuff, too -- thank you very much.

So, during the fest I drunkenly befriended a cool chick and we exchanged phone numbers. And here is where my blog theme comes in... Friend dating.

Now that I am a "grown up", opportunities to meet new friends and bond with them do not come up as often as when I was younger and in school. When I meet someone that I like and want to hang out with, I tend to pursue that friendship vigorously. There's not a lot of people that even pass the initial Heather test, so when someone does I really want to try to keep hanging out with them.

But, just like dating you don't want to be too intense, you don't want to chase too hard. I don't want to seem "too eager." So, I called and we chatted briefly and that was about it. I'll probably call again, but don't want to cross that line.

And then what to do if it doesn't work out? Recently, had a situation with another friend where basically stopped hearing from her. Asked if there was a problem and no response until 2 weeks later when she said that she had been busy and then it had been so long that she didn't want to call because she figured I would be mad at her for not showing up at something, blah blah blah. I'm sorry, but that's just lame. It's the friend equivalent of she's "just not that into me." If you want to be friends, then you make time to call, you make time to send a one-liner email that you've been busy, blah blah blah. So, I copped the most popular phrase of the last year and declared that she was "just not that in to me."

These two situations juxtaposed really have made me feel again that meeting new friends is like dating. I feel silly saying it, but it's true -- you have to date people to get to know them and what they're about to see if you want to hang out with them and invite them into your home and your social circle. And there are those times where I am frankly just not that into someone and maybe they are that into me and then what to do?

Why do I feel like friendship is all or nothing??

Well, I know why, actually. So do you if you've been reading all along... I can't figure out how to track back but I do all kinds of posts about how great my friends are. Look, y'all -- I can only throw roses at your feet but so much!

Anyways... Becoming friends with someone is truly like dating. You have all the get to know you crap and then it's time to decide if you're going to show them your dustbunnies and your bongs or what. And, just like dating, when you have that bad experience with the friend who is just not that in to you, it's hard to get back in the saddle and start cultivating new friendships. Because who has time for all that work??

So lastly -- friend who is just not that into me, if you are out there and you're still reading this blog (but, if you're not that into me, why would you be reading this blog??) -- I know that it seems as if I am harping on this point, on this phrase, but it is really just because I am feeling clever for comparing it to our situation. I know that I have always been the "tough love" giver in our friendship, and shit who wants to listen to that crap? Honestly, my tough love has always been about not wanting to see people that I care about get hurt or manipulated or used or abused in any ways -- especially if there is anything in my power that I can do to stop it. I know that I come across as a bully, but I hope that you never felt like you couldn't talk to me because of that. Some people charge for that kind of shit, swear!

New friends, old friends, it's a long trip we're on. Can't wait to see who I meet along the way and where it's all going. Grab yourself a Full Heather Jacket and join the club.

(Hmm, guess whose Benadryl has kicked in?)