Penis Envy

Yes, I am using the P-word in bold letters on the subject line. We are ALL adults here, get over it.

Why do I have penis envy? Because of my husband.

Tonight is his Friday night, since he is off work tomorrow, so he is playing with the boys tonight. And by playing, I mean literally -- they will be playing games.

I am QUITE envious of this. I do not have friends that I can get together and play games with. This is a foreign concept to me, but one I would love to be a part of. When they hang out, they will play Trivial Pursuit or Scrabble or golf... Mind you, all of these games are HIGHLY techno-ed up and on a computer that is then connected to a VERY large television, but still.... It's playing.

I wanna play games. Women play games when we get together, but it's more emotional -- not actual feeling like a kid again fun.

I don't feel left out because I am not there, because I could have gone. I feel left out because I don't have people that I can just hang out and do stupid things with that aren't analyzing the world's problems.

Let the world handle it's own problems for a minute and let's play Clue for Christ's sake!

That is all that I am saying.

Humor-sucking risk management PMS infested day

Over the last few days, I feel like my lifeforce -- my joie de vivre if you will -- has been sucked out of me. Maybe it's my lacking in excitement call center insurance job. Maybe it's this crappy, cloudy fall weather in the middle of SPRING. Maybe it's my disaster-strewn house on the verge of being condemned for its messiness. Maybe it really is just PMS. But, I can't help but feel like I used to be fun. I used to be funnier.

I'm pretty sure it's PMS.

The wonderful thing about PMS is that you really can't believe that you are ever going to feel happy or joyous ever again. It's just this chronic state of crankiness that doesn't seem to dissipate and is made ALL the better by my beloved husband who insists that I am only not cranky about 5 days a month anyways.

Thanks for the memories, dear. Did you know that in some courts juries have found PMS to be a legitimate reason for manslaughter?

It's something to think about, isn't it?

No, I'm not going to kill my husband, but would it kill him just to throw a Hershey bar and a "you look pretty today" into my corner when I'm acting like a beast?

I mean, I'm just saying.

I'll tell you one thing that got me to perk up a notch. (Mind you, at the state I'm in a notch is only going to take me to only Defcon 3 of the Blues, not actually cure it altogether.) Tom Cruise on Oprah. Just watched that with my friend Tivo.

Tonight, I was talking about it over dinner and Scott and Evil were both convinced that he is gay. I was starting to agree. But now, I don't know. I really think that as crazy as it sounds, he really loves that girl Katie Holmes and she really loves him. They just seem to be having a really good time, and my boy Tom was off the chain with the grinning. Not that he is depressed much, but it was crazy. He was jumping on the couch and professing his love for the whole darned Oprah audience to hear.

And NO ONE said shit about the age difference. Which I was surprised by and then impressed with. Maybe it doesn't really matter.

So, this did perk me up a bit. Seeing Tom and Katie and how happy and in love they were. I like that. It's nice. And they seem like they're just real sweethearts too. I mean, look at her -- she's a doll. I'm a little star-dusted by her. Who can blame the man?

But, back to me. And my wallowing. I need some shiny happy people to be goofy and pick me up out of this mood.

Maybe I'll listen to disco on the way to work tomorrow. That's a pretty good cure for most things.

Off to try to speed read my depressing book before bedtime. (Hmm, this is the second sad book I have read in a row. Must make note to read chick lit STAT! before picking up the next kind of sad/intense book from my nightstand.)

53 more days til Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince

Visitors

I have a new visitor coming to the blog, so I thought I should throw some of the pictures up and try to clean up the place a bit.

Hello new visitor. Snoop around a bit. There are varying degrees of moodiness here in this place. Yes, I will talk about you. Some people have specifically requested not to be mentioned by name, and they get cute nicknames. Some people get cute nicknames just because. Scott got called out by Rose a long time ago, so Rose doesn't get a cute nickname. Scott used to be just S, but alas no more. If you want a cute nickname, you will need to fill out a CN420 form in triplicate and file it with our registrar. (Rose, this is why I am always calling you out, by the way -- because of that.)

Just like photos where people look for themselves in party shots, some people merely stop by looking for mention of them. Tony Kahlua is one of thse people. I will often highlight his name in some way to save him from having to read all the other words. If you are looking for mention of you, try here or here. (Or at least, mention things you were around for.)

If you're just shopping, I suggest some of our vintage 2003 blogs. They're a bit wittier, in the writer's opinion, and less philosophical and melodramatically analyzing the meaning of friendship, blah blah blah. More on the early times of dating and stuff. Although, some of Bridezilla stuff before July 2004 was kind of funny too. But, hey maybe you don't want funny, which is good because we're stocked to the gills with not funny!

So, here you go -- welcome to my world, feel free to stop by again.

xoxo
H.

ps: Just ate something called Sushi Candy Roll at a local sushi place called This Old House that my friend Curly Sue took me to for belated birthday dinner and I have GOT to tell you that this stuff was OFF THE CHAIN. Oh my God! It was eel wrapped with rice and avocado but it was sooooo sweet and nummy... Mmmmm... I may have erotic dreams about this stuff, it was SO good.

And if you're looking for some summer reading, might I suggest The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I really enjoyed this book, although it was less about the wife than it was promised to be.

And this was our view of the Statue of Liberty from the Staten Island Ferry. The ferry ride takes about 20 minutes and you can have drinks on it while you ride -- now THAT'S a daily commute I could handle!! 

A blurry picture of my favorite bar. The inside was an old beauty salon that was converted to a bar -- with dryers and everything. For $10 you could get a drink AND a manicure. I didn't do it though because I was a little afraid of a bar manicure. 

This is the view from her apartment window -- worth the crazy NY rent, almost! 

Me and my cousin goofing off in her apartment in Brooklyn. I am not into modern art, but I was really drawn to this painting that her boyfriend did. Maybe it's because it has all of my current favorite colors in it. Maybe it's becaue it matched my shirt... 

John Lithgow outside of the Dirty Rotten Scoundrels theater -- we loved this musical. It was based on the movie and the guys were HYSTERICAL! 

This is about as close to the Empire State Building as we got -- too much else to eat... er, see I mean. 

Scott and Heather goofing off on the tour bus. 

Heather in Times Square 

Ketchup

Crap, I've gone a neglected the darned blog again. Last post was 5/5... On 5/7, my beloved and I went to New York City for a week. We had a great time, though we spent a fair amount of time complaining about all of the walking we had to do. But, we like to complain -- so that was inadvertenly fun too. (No, he does not agree that he likes to complain. Which, frankly, he doesn't as much as I do -- but who does?!)

I have shared many of my NY stories in person or by phone, so I'm a little story-sharing out. Which is unfortunate for those of you out there in blogger-land, but there it is. Truth be told, we spent a fair amount of time just wandering around the city and being sort of lost and eating. There was a lot of eating. We kept searching for THE New York food experience, I think. Unfortunately, I think we had that too early in our trip when my cousin took us to Thai food at this nifty little place called Sea in Brooklyn. I had never had Thai food before, and I LOVED it. There were several other good eating experiences, but that one by far topped it. The food was good, the atmosphere was interesting, and the prices didn't make the hair stand up on the back of my neck. (Wish I could say the same for the drinks at the Trump Bar -- $36 for 2 martinis! Yikes!!)

Speaking of martinis, here's the recipe (sort of) for what I drank when I could on our trip. I found it in one of my chick mags and it's called a French 75. It's 1/4 oz gin, 1/4 oz cointreau, 1/4 lemon juice and 5 oz champagne. It doesn't sound like a great combination, but it was very yummy. Our last night there I got cut off by the bartender because I had had 8 in like 3 hours and she was concerned. Hmm, since I didn't even realize I was that drunk, guess I should have been more concerned. I mostly drank a doctored version of this, as most places don't keep champagne around 'just in case.' The doctored version involved white wine and then whatever the bartender used to concoct the lemon and fizziness -- usually Sprite. Actually, I had a champagne version, and I must say the doctored version (when done correctly, which isn't easy) was better.

Why don't I own a martini shaker again?

Here's the up-to-the-minute latest...

It seems that the pattern I seem to now fall into, now that I have found a man who doesn't continuously disappoint me, is to befriend women who find ways to do this. I thought I had managed to end this when I cut off the Gnome, but no. I was supposed to lay low with a friend tonight who was on the verge of major drama with the on-again, off-again putz in her life. Apparently, the off became on and I got put on the back burner.

The irony of this situation is that the reason he was about to become off (again) is because of his failure to keep commitments to her, or lack of follow through. When she complained about it this afternoon, she admitted to quoting from the damned not that into me book when she said, "When you don't call me, you are saying to me that I am not important enough to make a priority in your life." And then, she doesn't call.

I can't stand it, I just can't stand it. I just can not believe this is happening again. And (JUST LIKE DATING!) we are in the early stages of friendship, so I am not sure if I should call her on this or just let it go when I get the lame-ass excuse that I am bound to get. We connected on many of the same levels, we had similar senses of humor, I had a lot of hopes for this one. I can't keep putting myself out there to replicate the friendships of my youth, when clearly it can't be done.

So, I'm frustrated. And hurt. And just wishing that when the good ones were here, they wouldn't keep moving the fuck away and making me call them at all hours of the night to complain about them moving away. Damn.

Well, I'm going to mope and drink more wine and pretend like I'm not moping, which is always fun.

Anyways, that's the ketchup -- it's just regular stuff from here on out...

Pause though to throw hugs out to my cousin for making me feel better about "keeping it real" where my life and relationships are concerned. She told me that I air the things that a lot of people think about and go through, but never talk about and that she liked that. That makes me happy. :-)

kisses

Coffeehouse Name

I swear, I know that I am not with it, but this is a phenomenon that I was TOTALLY out of the loop on.

But, then again, maybe someone is just fucking with me.

Apparently, when people go to coffeehouses, they do not use their given names -- they use alternate names. I learned this from my cousin, whom I am not sure is a slice of the average coffeehouse goer.

Still, he says it is really common for people to use aliases. But, that's it. They don't change their personalities or make up a persona -- just their name.

I do not get it.

If I were going to go to a coffeehouse and call myself Locklear or Athena for the fuck of it, I would make up a personality to go with it too. It would give me a chance to act up. To be someone else for a minute. (Kind of like the other night when Scott and I pretended to be mysterious strangers in the bar... Until his friend busted us on it and I got all embarrassed.)

Why go and change your name and still be yourself?

Do you ever tell what your real name is?

Only if you see the people again, according to my cousin.

I do not get it.

I feel kind of bummed that I do not have a coffeehouse name. Not sure who I would be. I've never been able to come up with any cute alias names for myself. The last time I had an alias was in the high school literary mag, but I did not even get to pick that name. Other people chose it for me.

I would not have picked what they picked, but I did like it.

Chloe? Lois? Lana? Maryjane? Anna Karenina? Scarlett? I could be the anti-HP, Penny Harker? I could be Harriet Potter? Hermione Potter!

What do you think? What's YOUR coffeehouse name?!

Shopaholic

I am seriously getting worried about my shopping. My husband gave me shit about it the other day. Didn't go all Ricky Ricardo on me or anything, but still. He rarely has given me a hard time about my spending habits.

I'm worried that there's a 12-step program in my future.

I managed to restrain myself at the bookstore tonight and only bought things for my mom for mother's day. But, even that was very hard. I mean, it's the bookstore for God's sake. I can only be so strong.

My most recent go-nuts episodes have been brought to you by the change of season and my increased amount of cellulite. Any sane person would see this as a sign to hit the gym so they could squeeze back into their summer clothes. I heard it as a call to shop.

And I did -- HARD.

I wanted to stop, I kept thinking I should stop, but there was always one more little thing I HAD to have. And then the earrings to go with that.

Not good.

And now I'm getting ready to get unleashed in New York City?! I mean, are you freaking kidding me? You don't put alcoholics in New Orleans, you don't drop off overeaters in Hershey PA, and you sure as crap don't drop off shopaholics in NEW YORK CITY.

I'm scared, actually. Every time I get to the part of the bank website where the credit card balance is, I avert my eyes. I can't face what I have done.

It's not that I don't need clothes, because I really don't have that much since I have put on so much weight. But, I feel so guilty rewarding the cellulite for sticking around by buying it cute stuff to wear. I should be wearing muumuus and punishing my thighs for being bad.

Not to mention melting all of my credit cards.

But, I just hear the stuff calling me from the stores and it's so nice to have new things and I've always been pretty bad about overindulging as the season's change. Last winter I was pretty good, actually. I think I only bought a couple of sweaters and some jeans.

I just feel so dirty. Every time I check out of somewhere, I want to burn the receipts. My last purchase came with a survey of my shopping experience, for which I will receive 10% off of my NEXT purchase.

I do not need ANOTHER purchase, no matter what the discount is. How is that helping things??

All right. I am going to peep at my credit card balance and then hope I can sleep afterwards...

If you know any good 12-step programs, or maybe there is a book I could buy...

BOYS TOWN

I have been spending more time that usual lately with all boys. Just boys. I may have completely lost the ability to relate to other women, it is that epidemic.

My cousin has been in housing limbo for the last week or so, and so has been spending a fair amount of time on our couch. He's adapting to some of Scott's ways, so I get picked on a fair amount.

I'm a bit tired. If I fight back, then I am the bad girl and if I don't fight back, then I am the girl who feels bad.

Aww, I'm being melodramatic now. I don't even feel that bad, actually. But, it's just been a LOT of testosterone and I'm like in dire need of some XX time. (No, not the movie rating kind, the non-Y chromosome kind.)

Was it just last weekend that I hung out with the girls and helped deplete the martini supply and all of the cancer sticks?? What a long week it's been and man, did I ever realize how much I miss those times?

But, on the other hand... A lot of the time spent with the girls was spent obsessing about our bodies and our weight and talking about how we "should" be doing this or that. I do NOT miss that. It's not that I don't know that I need to do all of that, but I don't have to deal with that when I hang out with the guys. The guys don't sit around talking about how many sizes they went up since last fall -- and it's not like they shouldn't be! But, the guys don't go out of their ways to denigrate themselves the way that women do. So, that part is nice -- being able to just slouch around and not have to get dolled up.

Because let's be honest -- who do we really get dolled up for? Women. We have to look good so other women do not judge us for looking less than good.

Still... As easy as it can be in boys' town, I miss girls' town. I miss the giggling and guffawing over the weird things that draw us together. Mostly laughing about what happens in boys' town and how they see things on THAT side. Or being able to talk about my emotions without having to go through some lecture about why it's important for the other person to just listen to my emotions once in a while and NO, it does not always mean that I am having my period... (Sidenote: why doesn't someone tell men that all of the bad period stuff actually has NOTHING to do with the bleeding itself?? Why do they think it is called PRE-menstrual syndrome? Are they this dense??)

Anyways, so much for my thoughtful discussion on spending too much time with the boys. I'm tired. Think I'll go snuggle up with my boy.