more on the joys of non sequitur


Do you suppose they deliberately use ugly people in some infomercials so you will find them more believable? If they're ugly, they don't seem like pre-paid actors, do they? Why would people this ugly lie?? What's the point?


Also, has anyone else noticed that on the rare occasion when MTv happens to have videos that they run a streaming reminder that you're watching Music Television? Apparently they think you could not figure this out if you were ACTUALLY, I don't know, watching music. On television. Like it used to be?? Or am I REALLY showing my age by admitting that I can remember when you could watch MTv and there was all videos. Some shows, but mostly just videos. They even killed the radio star, remember??

Well, I'll be evacuating my home to the no-safer haven of my boyfriend's house. He thinks it's safer and frankly, I don't want to be bored if/when the lights go out so I agreed. Just think of the hours I'll be able to wile away, nagging him to tears. That's fun for everyone, isn't it?

As a true testimony for my hurricane readiness, I braved the approaching oceanfront last night to dine at a Japanese steakhouse! And while in the area, I picked up an emergency supply of wine-colored short boots. After all, you've got to be stylish when you're trapped at home due to torrential rainstorms and high winds. Your Hurricane Heather fall fashion line will be in stores as soon as they've removed the boards from the windows...

Y'all take care now and always remember -- DUCK AND COVER! ;-)

-HP

While You Were Out -- and not checking the Blog...

I've made some changes. Added the guest book (SIGN THE GUESTBOOK, damnit) and finally figured out how to get one damned link up. I think I might know how to get more but I can only go so far into this process without feeling like a complete and utter dumb-ass and frankly, if you must leave my blog for another I would prefer to direct you to my favorite one, Rabbit. Mainly because (and this is blatant sucking up, I fully admit) I love the Rabbit blog and it/she is what inspired me to really get blogging myself.

Not that there's been much benefit to me espousing all of my crap on the internet to anyone other than me, but then again -- I never claimed that is was ABOUT anyone other than me, so no harm no foul as they say.

Is that a basketball phrase?? Where did that come from?

And more importantly, why don't I take more time to wonder where all of these kind of phrases come from??

Well, because I have to dry my hair and go run errands and I haven't got time for the inane!

-HP

No, no, no -- and did I mention not very likely?

This is the phrase that came out of my mouth a lot today. Mainly because there's a hurricane fixin' to hit this here East coast and seems like all of a sudden folks started getting a clue on just how important renters insurance is. Duh. That's all well and good but we've got to protect the folks who've already realized how important renters insurance is, so we're sure not gonna be able to take care of you.

Mostly that went surprisingly well. After sitting on hold for God knows how long and then being told that what they were waiting for was NOT going to happen, most people took it fairly well. That is un-til I got to talk to Mr. 23 year old Genius who was just insisted that he deserved a renters policy and that he had been trying to get one for two week but every single time (every SINGLE time, ladies and gentlemen) he called he got transferred around, put on hold for two hours and then the call was disconnected. AND YET, ladies and gentlemen, somehow not only was his wife able to get through this morning only to be told that coverage was suspended -- he himself was able to get through AGAIN tonight in order to berate me with his dissatisfaction with my company. Amazing, isn't it? Hasn't been able to get a single call in over the last two weeks without getting disconnected and today his family as a unit got through twice. I told him flat out I found it hard to believe. He then went through the entire list of all of his current personal problems -- his car loan people keep losing all of his money orders (oh my GOD if I had even one cent for every time I heard this when I was in collections, I would be a million-friggin-aire) and so he can't get a new car even though his car's too small for his two kids. He's in the process of moving ALL of his stuff (which we won't even cover) and he's already made 4 trips and he's still got two more just tonight. He's got knee problems and his wife has some kind of cystic something in her stomach and the doctor's don't even KNOW what that is. Wow. Sure not sure what this has to do with his lack of renters coverage but I decided not to bring it up and used the time to roll my eyes all the way into the back of my head.

It's not that I don't care, it's just that I really don't care.

I tried to reason with him finally. I asked him -- what if it were YOUR money. What if you received all kinds of calls just before a major natural disaster was supposed to occur asking you to potentially give up a lot of your money IF the major natural disaster occurred, which was a very strong probability?? He still didn't buy it and I gave up. Told him as soon as we were allowed to issue coverage again that I would call him and take care of it myself.

With any luck, he'll have been blown away.

Kidding, I'm kidding.

This hurricane hype kills me every time and I know one day I'm going to be victimized by my own unpreparedness and it serves me right. I don't have tons of water in my house but that's okay -- Scout does. And I don't have tons of food in my house, but that's okay -- Daddy does. And I don't have tons of beer in my house but that's okay -- Mr. Kahlua does. So, as long as I can swim outta here if the fit hits the shan, then it's all good!

That's the blog and I'm outta here! Duck & cover!
-HP

warning: soft core porn to follow

Last episode of Sex & the City and all I have to say is MEOW! I don't know about the rest of y'all but seeing that much sexual tension on-screen made me think back on the early days of my relationship with Daddy... Remember those days, girls? In the very beginning. Where he wants you so bad and you want him so bad and that's not much else you can think about besides that but you're grinning at each other like idiots because you don't want to cave first. And the kisses that start out chaste and demure that gradually build and build til there's a fire burning in you so bad you can't even see. He'll touch that spot on your neck and you'll run your fingers up his leg. Remember those times? You both knew it was going to be SO good, but you didn't want to give in. You wanted to hold on and hold out for that very first time. And he can just look at you a certain way and you know what he wants and you only know because you want it more. Remember the very first really deep embrace where he pulls you in tighter and tighter and the kisses grow deeper and more longing and you know this is TROUBLE and you don't even care. "If this is Trouble," you think, "I don't EVER wanna be out of trouble again! Bring on the trouble!"

Yeah. Meow. You know, I think it's important to keep the man in your life that did that to you. Man can look across the room at you in just a certain way and YOU KNOW he's thinking about what he's gonna do to you later that night when you get home... And YOU KNOW it's gonna be good. That, my friends, is a man I keep around. That's a man that's got game, you know what I'm saying?

not so much porn-y here

So, it's just as well that Sex & the City is ending temporarily because clearly the tension it works up in me is enough to power a small city. Like Detroit.

And yes, I cried when Steve and Miranda kissed and was despondent when Charlotte lost the baby. I'm only human!

-Hp

Bragging Rights and other Non Sequitur stuff

"Have you bogged lately?" asked a well-meaning friend.

Er, no. It's blog, but no. I haven't.

Here are some rationalizations. I should be studying for class. (Instead, I was reading Watermelon by Marian Keyes -- which is fabulously wonderful, but we know I think this about almost every book I read.) I should be doting on my boyfriend. (Who is currently at his best friend's house, yelling at football games, with a vague recollection of my name and place in his life.) I should be cleaning my house and putting away laundry. (Unfortunately, I have discovered a Yahoo! game called Stop and Pop or something and I can't seem to tear myself away to PEE, let alone anything really relevant like cleaning my house and paying bills.) Speaking of which, I should be paying my bills. (I took the time away from my game to balance my checkbook and realized I have no money. Solved that problem!)

Not sure why I haven't been blogging. I went to the wine festival yesterday and heard that I had a really good time. I wouldn't know, I was really really drunk. Note to self for next year: sample all the wine FIRST, then buy a bottle or two. Turns out, if you drink a bottle of wine shortly after arriving -- you don't get so interested in having little sips after that.

Today, got a pedicure with my girlfriend as a birthday present to her. Love those kind of gifts because then I get to participate too! (Note to girlfriend -- you DEFY nicknames, please choose a suitable one for your web anonymity.) How about EZ Bake? ;-) Anyways, I wound up with little flowers on my toes which are VERY cute, but frankly -- you can't tell they are flowers until you are at the level to suck my toes and seriously, who's ever going to get that close? And no, I do NOT have it that good with S. It would take really strong medicine to get him interested in sucking on my feet. It's not a character flaw, per se, I just don't think it would occur to him to do it.

In other news, I realized today that as much as I prattle on about all kinds of various things in my life that I also carry some guilty feelings when things are going well and I'm really and truly feeling happy. As if I don't deserve periods of time in my life where everything is good and good things are happening to me. Like work going smoothly and S & I just being generally pretty content with one another (well, on every day that isn't Sunday)... I suppose I should modify that and say that I am generally pretty content with him, I can't REALLY speak for his level of contentment with me. Perhaps he's miserable and bottling it away til he gets his own, secret blog where it's Inside Daddy's Head -- the Truth about that weirdo Heather but... I really kinda doubt that. And then, when r e a l l y cool things happen that I want to shout from the rooftops, I really feel bad. Because it's so awesome that I know I'm bragging about it, but damn I can't help bragging because I'm

GOING ON A CRUISE TO BERMUDA!!!

And who wouldn't want to brag about that?? Especially little old me who never friggin' gets to go anywhere and now I have this whole cruise thing that's being paid for by my boyfriend's mom and it just rocks. S says that just means that I gotta be on my toes between now and then and I say -- up his bucket. Go ahead, dump my ass -- the ticket's paid for so I'm going no matter what. He could dump me in cold, cruel fashion (just before Christmas-time, say) and hang me in effigy and I wouldn't care. He'd still be sharing the cabin with me and snorkelling in Bermuda right next to me because there's no way I'm missing out on that!! I'm so excited, I may even join a gym!

Anyways. I really don't have anything else to BOG about, so I'm gonna go visit my addictive game and then make a run for Target.

-HP

PS: Curly Sue -- I couldn't work out the jaybird reference, and anyways it's not true anymore. Hope you find that comforting!

A Tale of Too Skinnies

[Kahlua -- I think I may be in the market for a headline writer, you interested?]

I had the most terrible realization while driving home today. I have a :::gasp::: PREJUDICE! And against what minority do I bear this affliction?? Skinnies. That's right -- skinny people suck ass! I said it, I meant it -- what're you gonna do about it?

The worst part? Most of my closest friends are skinny people! How did this happen? Because I really don't like skinny people on general principle most of the time. Anyone that can order McDonald's fries and not have to order a shake too cannot be trusted. Anyone that FORGETS to eat has got serious issues that you should not have in your life. We're talking about people who make beanpoles look like telephone poles -- skinnnnneeee. If you can order a child's portion in a restaurant and still have leftovers, you might be too thin.

I'm not sure how this prejudice came about though, but I do know that I naturally don't trust people who don't even weigh enough to donate blood. After all, where am I going to get a supply otherwise if I ever need a major operation?? C'mon y'all -- eat more, help save my life!

So, it's sad. I bi-pass alot of potential friend candidates because they can't compete in my weight division. This seems like a big waste to me because I'm sure that skinny people have just as much to offer as people in the well-rounded group -- I just can't imagine what it is. After all, we couldn't share long, fun dinners together. She'd be full after salad and I'd just be getting warmed up. Priming the pump, as it were. And then, we couldn't go shopping together either. I'd feel weird hanging out while she purchased clothes in the children's department and she'd get lost in the flaps of the tents that I call my clothes. And we definitely couldn't take a fun, sunny vacation together because she'd have to keep rescuing me after the mobs tried to push me back into the ocean. And to make matters worse -- she wouldn't be able to donate blood to save my whaley ass because she wouldn't have remembered to eat lunch all week and wouldn't weigh enough to donate blood!

Another one bites the dust... No, honey -- it's a no dust week this week! Just dew -- morning dew.

Guess I'm still working out that prejudice thing, but I mean no harm my slinky sisters....
-hp

Commercial angst

I have been meaning to blog about this for the longest time and have never gotten around to it. But now that I am currently procrastinating on doing a dreaded homework assignment, I'm feeling free to blog away!!

There's this commercial (that I was watching while utilizing procrastination time to watch Queer Eye for the Straight Guy) that really makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck it irks me so much. There's this man and woman whom I am assuming are a somewhat long-term married couple. They're on vacation somewhere that has a "square" -- you know, a big sweeping location with lots of old, historical looking buildings and birds everywhere, like something out of Hitchcock. There are other, ostenstibly uptight foreigners, around. And the man says to the woman, "There's something I have to do..."

She responds with bemused look.

And he sweeps around this square yelling at the top of his voice, "I LOVE THIS WOMAN, I LOVE THIS WOMAN!"

And the woman is mortified. Shushes him. Literally, shushes. And he is placated and he comes up to her and says, "This will just have to say it for me."

Of course, it's this big huge diamond anniversary band (you know, the one with the three stones to symbolize the past, the present and the future). And she hugs him and WHISPERS, "I love this man. I love this man."

This commercial pisses me off each and every time I see it. For new reasons each time. What, you only love him because he gave you diamonds, but not when he has the cajones to yell out IN PUBLIC that he loves you? Love is something to be embarrassed by? It's not something you should shout about? And then after he gives you this whomping gift (which probably cost about as much as my annual salary) all you can do is WHISPER that you love him?!?! Are you friggin' kidding me? Seriously. It's just wrong.

Here are some of life's rules, brought to you by Heather the Self-righteous. If someone loves you enough to yell about it in public, appreciate that. Even if you are not a PDA kinda person, who the fuck cares? That takes a lot of courage of conviction of feeling and it's not to be undermined and never ever EVER to be "shushed." Don't wait til they give you a big hunk of diamonds to tell them you love them back, life's too short and not everyone can afford big hunks of diamonds. There were lots of birds in that scene, Tippi Hedren -- speak up. You never know when you tell someone you love them and it turns out to be for the last time. And then, if someone gives you a big gift, go out of your way to thank them. Loudly. Even if you are in public. Are those ostensibly uptight foreigners going to have you arrested?? I think not. And a big gift does not have to entail big hunks of diamonds -- lots of people can love you and not have big hunk of diamond money and it's just that simple. If you want big hunky diamonds, make sure you fall in love with someone who can provide them. And if you didn't happen to fall in love with someone who can do that for you, then damn it -- remember that too!

It's NOT all about the Benjamins and it sure as shit ain't all about the ::bling:: -- it's about love, baby. Because without it you're standing all alone in Uptight Foreigner Square and how boring would that be??

-HP

PS: Is it just me or was the wife on this episode of Queer Eye a bee-yatch or WHAT??

"Lovingston Cafe reports record sales after blond's blog"

I'm reporting LIVE (mostly) from Charlottesville where I'm spending the weekend with HP2, whom I have ALREADY worn out at 8pm with my double shots of gin -- bwa ha ha! Now the laptop is mine, all mine I tell you!

Unfortunately, I get little thrill from absconding the laptop because its ease of handling is just TOO easy for me. Where's the extra number buttons at? Where's the mouse at? Duhhhh... Someday I could get used to being this lax while working on the computer but the easy-breezy keyboard is a little TOO stress-free for me. I like to get a workout with my typing! Lord knows its the only one I get!

I went hiking today. No, you haven't stumbled onto the wrong blog -- this is me, Heather. New and improved. Hiking Heather, we call her. (Doesn't that just sound like one of Barbie's friends??) (Did I mention that I too had double shots of gin?) Besides, it was just a mini-hike. Up to Crabtree Falls, or I think that's what the sign said. I don't know -- couldn't see much over my blurred vision and the huffing and puffing was causing me to see things in triplicate. But I made it to the top of the falls without TOO much complaining (hell, HP2 doesn't have a blog so it's not like you'll ever know!) and it really was gorgeous. Apparently, 23 people have died from trying to climb the rocks near the falls, but I think they were just looking for a faster way down than climbing. And really, how often do they update those signs?? 23 people since WHEN? If that's since people first started coming to the falls, well that's not that many people really. Statistically, probably at least one of you reading this will be dead by next year. (Have you considered your life insurance needs? Have you considered writing your will and including me in it? Supporting the blog and all that??) And even it hasn't been since the beginning of the falls visits, let's just say it's been in the last 10 years. Well, that's only like 2.3 people a year, right? Or maybe it was a big group of 23 people who were all climbing the rocks at the same time, for a kitschy group shot and then :::BAM::: went tumbling to their untimely group demise -- what's the harm there? After all, they've all got each other in the afterlife, haven't they? Except for the poor schmuck taking THAT picture! Bet he never gets anyone to gather in poses anymore -- "no, no -- JUST the Grand Canyon, no people!"

But I morbidly digress... After our mini-hike, HP2 announces that she must have red meat and since she was starting to eye me a little too closely, we decided to go to the aptly named Lovingston Cafe in -- surprise! -- Lovingston. It stems off of an auto parts store but we decided not to be dissuaded by that like some of her previous companions, not as cools as I. There was NO one there and we weren't too sure they were even open until we rather ingeniously noted the neon OPEN sign in the window. We staggered in and were directed to a nice little table on the OPEN patio. They didn't have steak on the lunch menu, but the burgers were sounding appealing ensconced in the fabulous array of menu options so we both ordered our own favorite, Pricess-version of the burger. (Myself, cheeseburger with a side salad -- aka "greens" and HP2 mushroom-swiss with the standard fries but with BBQ sauce for dipping.) Since the waitress spoke so highly of the scallops and the oysters (both fried) we managed to get her to drum up an appetizer version of those as well. The scallops were AWESOME but as good as the oysters are, I definitely prefer them in a non-fried variety. Shortly after, the burgers arrived and I am here to tell you that it's not just because I was starving -- the burgers were kick-ass amazing! Somehow both well-done and yet moist and tender. I've never seen that happen. They required almost no chewing, which defies explanation. The BBQ sauce that came with HP2's fries was so good it was worth eating by itself -- I have never in my life tasted sauce that so completely captured the smoky essence of barbecue. It was so good you just didn't want it to be over. As Daddy would say, it was so good it would make you want to smack your momma in the mouth! (No, I don't know what this means either.) We were in heaven, just grinning and smacking and eating. And just when it was over and we were replete with our satisfaction, the waitress (or Angel really) came and offered dessert. We thought we were obliging her by asking her what the desserts were, even after our amazing seafood and burger experience still expecting something crappy and dull -- like a fruit cup or jello or vanilla OR chocolate ice cream... MAYBE apple pie a la mode. Nope, Milky Way Pie and Volcano Cake and Eclair Cheesecake... I had the Milky Way thing and HP2 had the Volcano Cake (aka sin -- chocolate cake filled with chocolate fudge with whipped cream on top) and then we died. I not only wanted a cigarrette after the meal, I wanted a cigar. It was just incredible. I wanted to find the chef and kiss him on the MOUTH. In fact, I was very tempted to offer him any other favors but decided my Daddy wouldn't look too kindly on that! (Then again, if he had eaten the meal I had just eaten, he may well have done the same thing!)

Lovingston Cafe in Lovingston, Va -- motto: never overlook a restaurant just because its attached to an auto parts store!

And now, HP2 is roused and we're gonna get girl-i-fied and hit the town and rope us some frat boys! Er, I mean we're gonna sit home and read the Bible to one another all night. ;-)

Soon to be....
-hp

Save your blogs -- recycle them!

I'm so boring and repetitive I can't even come up with new blog themes. Because I think I wrote about this a while ago... But who cares? I love Thursdays. There's just something about the scent of the weekend in the air to jumpstart my mood. Even with football on.

Actually, let's go THERE instead of Thursdays. I hate to say it but I'm already over football and it's only just begun. Well, that's the party line anyway. I'm not quite certain how something that has been on my friggin' tv every night for the last month is "just" beginning, but I guess I'm just an illogical female. Because that's how they push it -- it's so special because it's only on for a few months, not like basketball and hockey which never really seem to end. I think this is a bunch of crap because it's been on since the beginning of August and it's going on through the end of January, so where I come from that's six months. That's half the year! How is this such a short, bittersweet time? Hell, in the past if I was in a relationship that lasted that long I thought I was doing well! (And trust, I wasn't doing well very often -- but that's another blog.)

And then I get the well, you can't COUNT that because it's pre-season and those guys are just second-string wannabe's anyways

Then why are you watching it?

Don't you need to go buy some shoes or something?

And then, of course, you can't really count all that crap in January because THAT'S post-season, silly girl. That's the play-offs.

I think if I understood why people get SO excited about sports, then maybe I would not be so bitter about it. But I don't. There's lots of stuff I get excited about, but not to the exclusion of all other things. I get that it's fun and exciting but I don't understand why it's worth OBSESSING over. You can't tell me when our anniversary is or what my favorite color is, but you know how many points Brett Favre or Ricky Williams got (or whatever they get) last week??

And worse than the fact that I hate football, I hate that I hate football. I wish I liked it. I wish I could get into it and get excited that it was coming on. The fact that I hate it as much as I do (and always have) just is another example of me turning into my mother. And I love my mother but I don't want to BE my mother. But what can I do? It's not like I can just wake up one day and suddenly decide to really be into football. That would be like trying to start smoking when you're 40 -- you don't have a bad habit, why would you start?

See. There I go again! Calling football a bad habit like it's crank or something. It's ridiculous. It's just a game. It didn't do anything to me!

All right. I'm gonna go pack now. Heading to C-ville for the weekend, which I believe I mentioned. Y'all have a good weekend and I'll blog at you soon!

-HP

more on randomness

>Scandanavians don't make good batteries. When Daddy and I went to Ikea a few weeks ago, I had him buy me some batteries because I was running low and my toothbrush wasn't giving me good vibes. Ikea batteries suck. Yeah. I said it, yeah I used their name. Bring on the slander suits, baby! My wireless mouse has been giving me nasty-grams about its batteries dying, so I finally replaced 'em with some Ikea batteries. Suck. Two sets of batteries and the mouse wouldn't even jiggle, put in some slightly used Energizers and :::BAM::: we got the juices flowing again. Love that bunny!

>You can watch too much E! tv. They're now showing Melrose Place in the mornings, and it turns out its just as inexplicably addictive now as it was 10 years ago. Kimberly ran over Michael and Sidney got framed. But Jane needs Michael to sign a business contract or she loses a big fashion deal. Billy started working at D&D because of Amanda's pushing just as whatshername gets back from dealing with confronting her father over his past sexual abuse. Heavy stuff, man.

>You know, I almost never write checks for anything anymore. I pay by phone or the internet or have stuff automatically withdrawn. Turns out some people are still happy to get their check in the mail and I'm a little stuck now because I'm waiting for my order to come. Oops!

>You know you're broke when you're cashing in your change jar just to have an extra $30 pocket money. It's not I'm THAT broke but I've been actively trying to avoid dipping any further into my mostly depleted savings account and I've got a week to go til payday and I'm taking a mini-break this weekend. Luckily, I've got a closet STUFFED with liquor so me and HP2 should still be able to have a rousing time, even on a limited budget.

That's all for now.
HP

random acts of blogging

You know it's bad when I can't even remember the password to get on here... And it's not even gonna be good because it's after midnight and I have a serious case of the munchies. (No, not THAT kind.)

Here are some random things that have bounced through my head...

> I don't want to be old. Old people look weird, they talk weird, and they don't remember anything. And they are stubborn. They can't seem to get with the program and realize that time is moving and they need to move with it. That's how they got old -- they just stopped refusing to move with time. Maybe it's gravity that causes that strange old people distorted body thing. Inertia, more likely. Was talking to my Godmother about father in law and how not only will he not use the ATM, he won't even use the drive-up teller. The drive-up teller for God's sake! It's an actual person sitting there, waiting for your money and whatnot, what could go wrong there? He was aghast at the idea and said he'd have to go IN to the bank and Godmother was saying that that would be awfully inconvenient for the person who was TAKING him to the bank. I said not when you think about the fact that another 80-something year old person will be taking him and would probably be equally as horrified at the suggestion that you conduct banking business at the drive up teller. He'd probably keel over by the fact that I do ALL of my banking online, including paying a lot of my bills.

>Power went out at work tonight. Nothing like a little outage to make you fully appreciate just how much you need your damned computer to do even the simplest things at work. All the incoming calls get routed to another area and we just sat there in near darkness staring at each other waiting for it to hit 8pm so we could leave. And then there was this BIG panic up on the fourth floor (my floor) because the managers were convinced that we wouldn't be able to leave the building because of the security gates. I was disturbed that this was coming from people who are supposed to be in charge. Do they think there's no emergency contigency for that kind of thing?? Did they think we were going to gather in the lobby and sing Kumbayah while we waited for someone to come pry the doors open and rescue us? It was frightening that they honestly believed that. Frantically trying to get a number for security to find out how we were gonna get out. I was just like screw that and walked downstairs. Seriously, what if there were a fire?? Would we all have to line up at the turnstiles and swipe our cards before we could leave the burning building?? Hel-LO?

>Dido has a new song out. I was going to write about how I think it's odd that she has this whole sweet-sounding song that's really about having a smothering, addictive obsession with your ex, but today Curly Sue pointed out that she thinks her name looks like Dildo and that was lots funnier.

>My class is going well (thanks for asking) but all of this self-examination crap is the pits. Last night in about an hour I had to examine both my early childhood and stuff that happened in my marriage and was basically so depressed I just wanted to eat a gallon of ice cream and then curl up with my teddy bear. Instead I picked a fight with Daddy.

>Kids, Daddy and I are snarking at each other a little lately but it doesn't mean that we don't love each other anymore. We won't be getting a divorce, so you don't have to worry about losing us. Of course, we can't get divorced because we're never getting married but I'm not bitter about that. No sirree. Darn that Ken and Colleen for stirring up all this wedding crap -- everyone was fine before that! And yeah, I'm using their real names because they don't read this crap anyway and even if they did it's not like I'm really upset that they're getting married! It's just kicking up some dust for those of us unmarried folks and start looking at our men with a more critical eye. Fellas, if you're reading -- we don't want proposals here, but a couple extra "don't you look GREAT todays" and "have you lost weight?" and "can I get you some sushi" and "I think you should buy MORE shoes" comments here and there are really REALLY going to go a long way to help you out through this time frame...

>> side blog: Why don't men understand that when one of their girlfriend's friends gets engaged or married that they are immediately in trouble? As soon as they hear about this phenomenon, why doesn't it occur to them to either hit the hills running fast or hit the sentimental card aisle at Hallmark or something? It's like they're swimming with sharks with a bloody juicy leg and they don't even realize it. How is this possible? It's kind of like PMS on a really grand scale. Especially when the couple in question gets engaged after a brief courtship. Because the non-proposed-to women are looking around like we can't believe it's happening. What is REALLY going on? we wonder. How is she getting married to him when she's only known him for as long as it's been since the last time me and my man last had sex?? It's not even that we want to be married or engaged or whatever, we just are damned curious as to why HE doesn't want that. With us.

And on that note, I am outtie!

-HP (that's capital HP for those who are taking score of that kind of thing)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>Blue Man GROUPIE!!!<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


Got to go see the Blue Man Group tonight -- that was a LOT of fun! Yay Godmothers with free tickets to stuff!!

The two opening acts, Tracy Bonham and Venus Hum, I had never heard of. I was a little disturbed when Tracy Bonham looked out into the audience and said, "I think you all look like SPOON people!" I wondered, where did I go wrong? How did I wind up somewhere on a Friday night where there were spoons being played??

Turns out, must be a spoon person though because she was pretty cool.

Venus Hum was more than a little eclectic and clearly was the lure of the many many Goth's in the audience. The group was very techno/rave-like but I kinda liked it. I just wish I was in a club when I was listening to it.

But Blue Man Group was very neat... The concert was basically all about lightly mocking rock concerts in general. Because the Men don't speak, there was the very serious Announcer who was giving you the break down for all of the Rock Concert Moment. Such as the head bob, the fist in the air, the invite guest vocalist to perform, the take time to visit with the people in the cheap seats, the jump up and down... Then it was soul-searching Freudian trip wherein you question your life and compare your cubicle filled hell with the mazes of your inner childhood. Or something equally as bizarre. But, the light show portion and the "laser people" (as Godma called 'em) dancing and just the expressions on the Men's faces were just cool. They brought a few people from the audience onto the stage and I (surprise!) desperately wanted to be one of them, but no go. There was this one really nifty thing where it was Rock Concert Moment #15 -- take time to take a close look at the audience. And they do the stereotypical camera-span of all the audience screaming and yelling and then they get all up in in one guy's face and point the camera down his throat... Then they somehow cut the film so fast that it looked like you could look alllll the way down his throat and into his esophagus and his lungs... Gross, but cool!

The only annoying part was the people who left before the show was over. It has no real effect on me but it just irritates the crap out of me when people do that. Why is this necessary?? You just paid at least $60 for the two of you, plus a RIDICULOUS amount per adult beverage and NOW you can't even stay til the end because you don't want to sit in traffic?? Seriously. Sit in the traffic. Is it that bad? I mean, yeah -- it definitely sucks to be sitting in the traffic waiting to leave but the bottom line is -- that's part of the damned experience. It's just that simple. If you don't sit in the traffic, what do you have to complain about?? I went to this great concert last night and then I got home in time to catch the evening news. Well, aren't you special?

That's all.

Off to go rest for my alleged jet-setting!

HP

ps: Anyone living in VA Beach area should know that El Sol de Mexico has KICK-ASS Mexican food. The 'ritas were only so-so, but for once the food made up for it instead of the other way around!

Battle of the Sexes

Had my first battle with prejudice while I was on the phone with a customer today. I wanted to bitch-slap him through the phone so bad that it was an effort not to audibly sigh into the phone. The area of my prejudice against him?? He's a wife-blamer.

You know the kind -- can't accept responsibility for his own short-comings so has to blame his wife for them. She's a liar and I can't believe she told me this or that and she didn't pay our bill and now our rates are higher because we didn't have insurance.

Yup. She did that sir. Because you were not allowed to look at your own bills or verify any information on your own and NOW you're such a big, great man that you feel the need to degrade and belittle your wife to a third party. Aren't you great?? THEN, he tried to blame us because we were "supposed" to be withdrawing his payment from his account. I told him that with all due respect if we WERE supposed to be withdrawing his payment (which we weren't, we already told him we never got an application) it was his responsibility to notice that it hadn't been withdrawn in 4 months. At least he agreed with that.

He used to have his own insurance agency, so he knew a thing or two.

Whatever.

See past blog -- step up and take responsibility for yourself and why why WHY are you married to someone that you feel the need to belittle and degrade to an outside party? Or even to an inside party?? As someone who has been married to someone who felt the need to do this to me on a regular basis, it took a LOT of restraint not to have a come-to-Jesus with this dude on the phone. Like, who the FUCK do you think you are, you small-dicked, one-eyed bastard??

Hm. Bitter much, Heather?

Let me shout this out to the masses: if you are thinking of spending your ENTIRE LIFE with another person, please be sure that you are cut out to do so. We all have shit that we bitch to our friends about our respective partners. That's normal. But, not -- she's a liar, he's stupid, he ruins everything, she's irresponsible, etc. That's fucked up. What does that say about YOU that you are with someone that you would say and think these things about? To a stranger. Seriously. It just makes me sick to my stomach, because I lived this. For a long, long time and because I'm out of it I would like to keep my rosy-colored view of the world that NO one has to live it -- but that's not true, is it??

Anyways -- I think I've satisfied anyone's desire to have more Heather posts after my recent sporadic writing. 3 in one day is way over the top!

Just in case I resist the urge to post -- y'all have a safe and happy holiday weekend!

Two posts in one morning? It's guilt -- my "jetsetting" lifestyle this weekend (what? 2 concerts and I'm going boating and now I'm jetsetting??) will diminish even further my blogging...

I'm just thinking -- the reason that I like old songs so much is because they are comforting in their familiarity. There's something that is warm and fuzzy about being to stop whatever you're doing and chanting along "I hope you realize this will go down on your PERMANENT record..." It takes too long to develop those feelings about new music now. I try and I have plenty of new stuff that I like but it's not hip and cool. It's just stuff that reminds me of the old stuff.

Does anyone else "forget what 8 was for"? ;-)

Because you never get tired of reading about my butt...

Fight was resolved. Too bad. Was really hoping for some action.

Went to the doctor yesterday (it IS tu-mah, but it doesn't mat-tah) and had the loveliest experience when the nurse weighed me and registered audible surprise at my weight. I told her that no one ever realizes that I am as fat as I am. I am okay with that!

And then I realized that our salary isn't the only thing people never talk about. People won't off say how much they weigh unless they have lost weight. Then they're very PROUD of it. So, as a result I really don't have any idea what different weights should look like. I just know that it seems like I'm rounder than about all of my female friends -- who CARE about what they look like -- and much less so than most of my males friends, who do not care. It allows me to have a healthy balance of low and high self-esteem.

The fact is that if I weren't carrying the weight of a toddler on my butt, what on EARTH would I have to complain about?? I may have to start tackling the world's problems, and who has time for that? I can't go solve crime and fight world hunger because I have to complain about how fat my ass is, people!! That is my job.

It's funny because every time I make these comments at my own expense, people always tell me to stop and it's not as though I am REALLY fat (because 50lbs overweight isn't enough to get you in the club??) but they're laughing the whole time. Don't laugh when I say that it looks like someone grabbed my ass and the impression stayed, because that is just going to encourage me. That's the problem with making jokes at my own expense. After all, I am my greatest source of material because I am with me 24/7. So, I don't really think about trying to protect my own feelings because I know that I don't mean the things that I say, at least not to the depth of cruelty that they can sometimes reach... It's just that I can't really use other people because if I made fun of them to the point that I make fun of MYSELF, well they would probably cry.

I'm off for more material. I think I'll just start recycling old blogs. No one read all that stuff anyways and some of it is really good. So hearty is my own vanity that I find myself re-reading stuff from the archives and thinking, "damn -- that was funny! I SHOULD be a columnist! Why am I not famous yet??"

::snort:: Are there actually still people who are concerned that I have LOW self-esteem? Please write my boyfriend at youvegottobekiddingme@whatever.com if you have these concerns... ;-)

HP

Catfight!

Well, technically cat & dog fight. Got "picked on" in my online class ALREADY! Was told that I am sound like a self-important self-criticizer who never does anything to change her ways. Wow. Dude, sorry I said that stuff about your mom already...

Got my dander up so I fired back a well-thought response that was mostly minimal in the sarcasm. Seriously. I do know how to cut that down. Stop laughing, the milk will come out of your nose. Basically it was the Rodney King plea of "can't we all just get along" with a dash of "let's think about what we post before we post it, buddy" thrown in for good measure. I have a friend we'll call Millie who says I am going to get ATTACKED and that the semester is going to be very interesting.

I say -- bring. it. on. Of course I'm a self-important, self-criticizing woman but what he neglected to type (because maybe he DID read before posting) is that I am also a BITCH. Especially when it comes to a forum that will pretty much alleviate any possibility of confrontational anxiety, which I am ironically usually paralyzed by. Most people do not know this about me but I would rather eat my own shoes then get into any level of confrontation with anyone. That's why I tend to only hang out with people I get along really well with and that I know would not screw me over. But online? In a written discussion group? Are you kidding? I live and breathe by the creed that the pen is mightier than the sword, especially when wielded by a coward who loves to hide behind her words. (I'm referring to myself here -- I'm the coward.) And while I should refuse to engage in a battle of the wits with an unarmed person, it might be nice. We'll see.

Turns out class might pep up the blog after all. Who'd have thunk it??

The blog's gonna suffer. I knew it, so did you. I'm sorry it has to be this way. It doesn't mean I won't write and I won't post, but my class is all about the psychology of ME. Where I examine my life and my thoughts ad nauseum and then post or email my responses to such. The fact is -- that takes a lot out of me. Too much me.

Yes. Even I can have too much me. And if I have had enough of ME, it's not like I can very well get away from me -- can I? Not unless I go Eve on y'all.

Which could be fun. I could create some alternate rap-ego. Instead of Slim Shady I could be Fat Funny. Jam-eating Jaded. Hmmm... I'll have to work on that one.

Not quite the same level of creating my own Slapaho name, but what're you gonna do??

Strange things

I recently figured out that I am Diet Story Ho. I am addicted to hearing about people's diets and things that they do to lose weight. Not because I am EVER going to do any of these things myself but because it's just so fascinating the lengths that people will go to to lose weight. The sacrifices and hard work.

One of my best friends, who for lack of a better nickname we'll call the Librarian, is heavily involved in research analysis at a medical center... What most of the research she is involved in centers around is being overweight and the various effects it has on your health. She's been involved in some MAJOR projects involving this subject, so I trust that she knows of which she speaks. And it's fascinating, but not in a soap operatic way like diet stories are. Her stories are the ones that prompt the OTHER people to go out and diet and that's cool -- because then I can hear their stories and revel in them.

I saw an old friend I hadn't seen in forever last night and he'd been doing the Atkins and had lost 50 pounds. Which is AWESOME! I mean, that's how much a 4-year-old weighs, for pity's sake. (I have a tendency to think of weight gained and lost in terms of the size of people, and I have a reason behind this which I'll get to.) And he was talking about all the new low-carb stuff that's out there and available now that the Atkins has caught on with such popularity. Another guy at work went on what I referred to as the "prisoners diet." He basically was starving himself for 3 days and then eating regularly for 4. He said it was the diet they put heart patients on just before they go into surgery to cleanse their systems and stuff. But, that's not the kind of diet you can stick to. Another friend went on Weight Watchers and lost a bunch of weight and has kept it off and looks fabulous. And I know people who start walking to get in shape. I was inspired just the other day by two women who climb all 4 flights of stairs to our floor every day. I was ready to start doing it. But, I hate sweating and I would be just one big puddle by the time I got to the top and then I'd have to work all day covered in my own sweat. (I can rationalize not doing just about A N Y T H I N G!)

But, I still love the stories. Makes me appreciate the fact that I'm about to go home and eat ice cream for dinner. After having a pile of nachos for lunch. Or whatever. Because it's nice to be thin, but it's much nicer being fat and lazy. No effort involved in that AT ALL.

As for the reason I compare body weight to the weight of children is because I was once lobbying for tax breaks for fat people. By the insurance chart standard, I am about 50 pounds or more overweight. (This is probably the weight of my ass.) So, 50 pounds is about how much the average 5-year old weighs, I think. (Correct me if I'm wrong, please.) So, I'm basically having to deal with a permanent 5-year old attached to my ass. I have to dress the child and feed the child and that's a LOT more expensive than if I were the weight the insurance chart says I should be. If I were that weight, I could find clothes everywhere in my size because I would be the size that fashion designers think is normal. (What I want to know is -- if there are SO many size 10 people out there, why are there SOOO many more of their clothes on the racks, than there are for people MY size?) So, if people who actually HAVE five year olds are getting tax breaks, why can't I? I may as well have one.

Ah, you say I could lose the weight -- whereas they could not legally and morally lose the child? Well, that's all well and good except in order to lose the weight I would need to eat right and exercise. It's more expensive to eat good food than it is to eat crap. (Trust me on this one -- the main reason I can afford to make ends meet is because I almost never buy anything that remotely resembles real food.) And even if I were to just start walking, which is free exercise -- you still need to have the right shoes and the right clothing. So, I still need the tax break -- because to get rid of my "child" is still going to cost me more than if I didn't have a child.

Anyways -- no more blogging tonight. I finally managed to type enough to soothe the hyper brain monkey. G'night!

Remember Me?

If you want to get a good gauge on how you feel about your current relationship, it's a good idea to try having someone from your past ask you out for dinner and drinks to "catch up." It's a nice feeling knowing that I am not even remotely tempted. Not because he's not a great guy (Mr. Past) because he is. He didn't do right by me, but what're you gonna do? He had his reasons and I wasn't overly heartbroken.

Because the thing was -- I was really only dating HIM because he reminded me in a lot of ways of someone that I had once dated before. Someone that HAD meant a great deal to me. Someone that I had never really gotten over. Someone who had broken my heart. And it turned out that that someone felt pretty bad that he had broken my heart and wanted to make it up to me.

And he has and he does -- because that someone is the person I refer to as S or Daddy throughout the blog! (Raise your hand if you didn't see this coming so we can switch you to the short bus tomorrow.)

But, whatever -- Mr. Past came rolling into town and sent me an email asking me out. Ostensibly just to catch up -- if there was no one who would object. The fact is that even if I weren't with Daddy, I would be the one who objects, but like the good Princess I am I blamed my Daddy. I wrote Mr. Past and told him that it wouldn't be fair to take him up on his offer when I know that he knows that I know that he didn't just want to "catch up." He was trying to bribe me with free food -- like, even if you don't really want to see me, at least you'll still get free dinner and drinks. I'm wondering what this says about me -- I can't stand you but I'll hang out with you if you buy me food and alcohol?? Seriously.

The thing is that I not only feel no pangs of regret for not being able to be with men from my past, I can't even drum up an afternoon daydream over other men I see around. I'll see someone around who's cute but as soon as my brain attempts down the roll in the hay thoughts -- it just shuts down. "You don't want to think about those things with THAT guy, Heather -- he's not Daddy." It's like I can't even PICTURE being with anyone else. It pisses me off, frankly. He still looks at other women's butts and Lord knows what rolls through his head when he does it, why can't I? Why am I on monogamy overload?

I can't even complain about it, because I don't even mind. I love the boy. He puts strange curses on me in the midnight hour (don't ask) and doesn't have quite as much tolerance for my whining as I would like, but other than that I have no complaints.

So, take that Mr. Past!

HP

Or comfortable like granny underwear

It's official. I'm out of blog material. Again. At least, anything interesting. And this after I went on a road trip with Daddy this weekend.

Not to say that wasn't interesting. We went to Potomac Mills and shopped til we would have dropped if we didn't have to drive home right after. He hit Ikea hard (no, he's not gay) and I hit the Old Navy Outlet hard. Some of my friends expressed jealousy that MY boyfriend likes to shop (more than I do, in fact) until I pointed out that THEIR boyfriends aren't obsessed with football -- so it evened out.

And the driving was an interesting experience. I tried not to pay attention. You see, Daddy hasn't figured out that the rules of the road really do NOT apply in certain areas of the world. So, if he is driving in the left lane and is obviously wanting to go faster than the person in front of him, he cannot understand why the other person won't get move to the right lane to let him pass. I tried to explain, repeatedly, that it's a lot easier to just pass them on the right and go against the "laws of man" but he just didn't want to readily accept that. Even when he adopted this principle, he was still pissed off that he was passing people in the "slow lane" in a Kia! I gave up.

The thing is that our relationship has fallen into such a comfortable, easy groove that there's nothing to complain about. (I'm SURE he'd beg to differ with me on whether or not I complain.) It's a strange feeling for me, actually being COMPLETELY relaxed with another person. Even in some of my friendships there isn't this level of comfort. I've just been really slipping into this feeling lately -- like diving into a vat of warm, rising bread dough. Or a nice big hot bath. (Minus the addition of other people's skin peelings... Don't ask.) Like really good chemical enhancement, only all the time. I'm open with people because I'm an extreme extrovert, but it's still not very often that I completely trust anyone -- least of all men. But, with Daddy -- he just proves time and again that he can be trusted and WANTS to be trusted.

That's a big thing. Lots of people CAN be trusted, really -- but they don't want you to put your faith in them. That takes a lot. When you really let someone put their trust in you, you're saying that you're going to be there NO MATTER WHAT. You will listen, you will act, you will do whatever you need to do because the other person TRUSTS that you will do these things. And that takes a level of commitment that most people (not just men -- PEOPLE) are not willing to get to. Because to be strong for someone else, you also have to accept your own weaknesses. (Ick -- didn't that sound like cliche'd crap? But it's true!) You have to realize that it's hard to have someone depend on you, even just to listen to them ramble about their day.

Sidetracked. So, yeah -- relationship is in really comfortable phase. And not even in a boring, Dr. Scholls shoes kinda way.

Which has been the case for a long time and I've still managed to drudge up material. It goes back to obligatory blogging. I'm over it. I hereby declare a moratorium on my need to satisfy my imaginary audience's unsated need for me daily. I will write when I can and when I want!

Watch -- tomorrow 1000 things will happen that I will want to write about just because I said I don't "have" to. Ain't life funny?

"yip, yap rattletrap"

For those of you who read the blog but don't get the occasional email from me as well (have NO idea who these people would be) -- I enrolled in my class. It's called the Psychology of Personal Adjustment. It's a journey into self-discovery and self-awareness through online discussion. I plan to just link to the blog and assure myself an "A". Har har.

But, on this note -- I had the single most disturbing realization about myself in my LIFE last night. It's this completely obvious thing about me that while I was aware of and have even joked about regularly, I never really accepted it. What is "it"? This: I really like to hear myself talking. A lot. It's disgusting. I'm addicted to it. I prattle on and on and on and can't make myself stop. Largely because I didn't really realize that it was as obnoxious as it was until last night when I actually realized just how much I was blathering on and on and even after realization hit, I could not make myself stop. Every thought that popped into my head needed to be verbalized. I realized too that one of the things that makes me go all Chatty Cathy is because I'm happy. But mainly, it's very obvious that I must need like continuous reaffirmation that ALL of the crap in my head is not just crap. What is THAT about?!

So, I'm disturbed. I've built an empire on my own voice and my feelings about it and now I'm realizing that this may be a large reason why I'm drifting away from friends and having a hard time developing new friendships. My utter attachment to me and my belief that everything I have to say is completely fascinating. Because, you know what? It's not.

And before I get the responses of "that's just you, Heather" and "we don't think you're quite THIS bad" and "what's going on that you're suddenly so negative about yourself" let me just state for the record... I like me. I like BEING me. But I like other people too and I think my constant prattling doesn't allow for other people to open up and share THEIR stories too. And after all, other people are GREAT sources of material! I'm stealing my cousin's love story and turning it into a movie. My friend's various "bad man" stories give me simultaneous reasons to men bash AND to appreciate -- again -- how cool my own boyfriend REALLY is. (Because he is really cool.)

So, that's all. I'm just going to work on being a little more attentive and little more quiet for a little while. Just to try it out. Maybe if my voice wasn't constantly buzzing like one of those white noise machines, the sound of it would peak more interest. And lure more people to come try the Kool-Aid!

Have a great weekend all -- I'm heading to DC!

HP

more random things

I am afraid of having my arm ripped off i I drive down the road with my arm hanging too far out of my car window. This is because I saw a REALLY scary video about this incident involving school buses when I was like in the sixth grade. My belief is that this was intentionally done to scar anyone from hanging ANY body parts out of the bus. However, in my case -- it stuck for good.

Also, I love my cousins. My girl cousins Reiterating again that I am an only child, so knowing ANYONE who shares my genetic make-up reconfirms my belief that I am not this screwed up on my own. This is good!

Drunk,
HP

The worm crawls in, the worm crawls out...

Remember this little ditty from elementary school? If you don't, call me and I'll be happy to sing it to you. If you don't have my number, well there's probably a good reason for that, isn't there??

So, I think I've been infected by this now famous MS Blaster Worm . What a NIGHTMARE the last day or so has been. Svchost.exe error this and svchost.exe error that. I have been whining CONTINUOUSLY to Daddy about the problem and he just brushes me aside and grumbles that he'll get to it this weekend. Meanwhile, I am having to reboot my computer every friggin' 5 minutes because EV-ER-Y-THING stops working. Can't cut, can't paste. Fuh-get about linking, sister. It sucks. And I don't know squat about computers other than how to turn them on, although I make a DARNED good show of navigating through stuff like I know what I'm doing. (Fooled my parents on a NUMBER of occasions because they are even dumber than I when it comes to this stuff.)

Except, maybe they aren't so dumb. Have conversation with my actual daddy yesterday afternoon where he is drunkenly insisting that I need to go to microsoft.com and check out this worm information and make sure I don't have it, etc. It's like 4:30 in the afternoon and he's intoxicated so I'm taking all of this with a grain of salt (which, he did too only his was accompanied by a tequila shooter, but whatever)... Well, after I get home from my OWN drinking exploits, I continue to have the problem which has been plaguing me for days and I finally get desperate and type a Google search for an explanation of its source.

Turns out to be the damned worm.

I didn't have the patience to start my computer anymore last night after the fifth time rebooting, so I figured I would just deal with it this morning. Well, it must have been torturing me all night because I woke up at the crack of dawn with the worm on the brain and couldn't go back to sleep. My jaw was so tight that I must have been grinding my teeth again and I haven't done THAT since I worked at Household!!

Long story short (too late), I think I have solved the problem. Somewhere in the mix I seem to have deleted My Yahoo! from My System! but not sure how and I'm willing to live with that. At least I am moving freely about the internet again. These people are the ones who saved my life, by the way. So, if you need to clear the worm from your own computer, use this site for sure. I don't know if it is a permanent fix, but it's working so far for me.

Now, off to register for my online class which is supposed to start in a WEEK and I haven't even signed up yet. In part because I have been waiting for response from TCC about my application. Turns out, they don't send out "re-acceptance letters." I advised them that I had never attended classes there, but apparently they count the time that I took a typing class in 1988 as a prior admittance. Seriously.

Wish me luck!
HP

Inane stuff that bothers me

(Sorry for any repeats, Mr. Kahlua)

People who bitch about situations they have created for themselves.

When the gas station is OUT OF GAS. This is your primary reason for existence, why are you open if your gas doesn't work? People will go elsewhere for cigarrettes.

People who complain that their CHILD's insurance is "so high" -- when their CHILD was caught driving high which is why their PREMIUM is so high. Hello?!

Not all fern bars offer cheap appetizer alternatives, like Crapplebee's with their $1 chips & salsa. I should pay $6 just to line my stomach so I don't puke your $5 beer?

On this note, I am also annoyed when my favorite "hook-me-up" bartender quits his job and doesn't have the dignity to inform me! If my hairdresser did that, I would rip her liver out. (Seriously, if you're reading this -- it's true.)

People who eat less than your average Ethiopian who complain about their weight. What, are you kidding me?

The sub-zero temperature in most grocery stores and restaurants. I'm a plus-size girl and I'm still shivering like a wet dog in these places, is this necessary?

This is all I can think of because I'm just really tired right now. Obligatory blogging, ain't it silly??

ticking, what ticking?

So, my man Baby D has been around with us for a whole year today! And, I was invited to his party. Which was pretty cool. Baby D got ALLLLL kinds of cool stuff and he even liked my present. Which really made my day because Baby D isn't even overly fond of ME! It's not his fault, he's a baby. Baby's sense my fear and shy away from me. They know that I think I make them cry with my weird laugh and strange ways and they cry to make sure that I know I'm right: my laugh is weird and I'm a LOT louder than their mommy. Which is frankly the least of my sins.

Nevertheless, Baby D was pretty much kept out of harm's way most of the time and the brief time I got to hold him, I deliberately let him face his adoring sea of grandparents and tried not to talk. This kept him reasonably satisfied until the blowing of the candle. I was holding him while all of the obligatory photos of him not understanding that he was supposed to BLOW OUT the candle were being snapped. I felt guilty since I was the least parental person in the group. In fact, I was the stand-alone winner in that category. I was the one knocking back 2 beers and recounting back-stabbing stories. How much further could I possibly deviate from an ideal, mother-figure role model could I possibly get, unless I was smoking a doobie at the time?!

But, I realized that if I cannot get the maternal urge while I am watching Baby D in all of his glory, adoring his Mama and Daddy and lavishing in all of the attention he was getting... If I don't even feel the :::pang::: when he's covered in cake and icing and eyeing his new toys with longing, then this may not be an urge I ever feel. Which really makes me feel like I was built without some essential material. How is it possible for me to be all proud of Womanhood and yet not be remotely interested in that which truly separates us from the weaker sex?? Seriously.

I don't feel like I'm lacking something because I don't have a child. I feel like I'm lacking something because I don't want to have a child. And does that mean I am going to wake up one day when it's "too late" and regret not having kids?? Or will I wake up one day before it IS too late and have the :::pang::: set in? How can I have kids if I still feel like a little kid? (See blog below.) If I'm not capable of keeping houseplants alive, how can I hope to be responsible for another human being? I'm almost too much for me to take care of!

Well, it's been a hard day of antiqueing and baby birthday boogaloo, so on those reflective notes -- later!

HP

My life is an Uncle Kracker song

Specifically, Follow Me. On so many levels, I consider myself a strong, independent woman. But when it comes to shopping, I am still just a kid. Any kind of shopping. Almost any kind of shopping turns me into pouty, grouchy, pokey kid shuffling behind the person who took me shopping in the first place. Today, it was Mom and the antiques. As previously mentioned, for most gift-giving occasions I give Mom a day to do whatever she wants. I take her to the place and then we do the thing and then we have lunch. Inevitably, "the thing" involves doing something with antiques. We went to the Ghent Antique Mall and I just followed along behind her. My desire to not be there so strong that it was like a cosmic force was pulling me towards the door. It was so strong I thought it might be visible. Like a big light pointing towards the exit. We'd get close to the door and then she'd be distracted by something else. I could hear the running commentary in my head, like TBO announcing a poker game.

Don: We're approaching the finish line Bob. The cash register is in sight with all of the accrued bounty for the day. They're tallying... Wait, WAIT -- what's this? Depression glass?

Mom: Heather! Did you see this? I think I sold this in a garage sale for $2 10 years ago.

Don: Bob, I don't think Heather's going to make it out as soon as she thought. This is going to be a tough course for her to navigate. Just past the Depression glass there's a collection of cookwear that Mom's grandmother used to have. Mom threw it away 20 years ago, though.

Bob: That's nothing -- just around the corner lurks several aisle's of Madame Alexander dolls. This is going to lead to a 15 minute discussion on where Heather's keeping hers and just why she hasn't tried to sell them yet.


Yeah. It's like that. Only worse. Because today, Mom gave pause to wonder if all the stuff she sold or threw away years ago that she was now seeing recycled again at antique stores all over was in FACT her stuff! No, I am not making this up.

But the main kid time with shopping comes when I go grocery shopping with Daddy. [Sidenote: For those of you who have wondered why I switched to calling S "Daddy" I feel I should point out that it is NOT for some psycho-sexual Electra-complex reason. Well, not entirely. Kidding. S was TOO abbreviated and I never really liked it, but I like the faux anonymity thing I have going on with everyone else -- TBO, Curly Sue, Scout, Mr. Kahlua, etc -- so it makes sense that the main person in my life should have some sort of nickname. Daddy's just the default name since everyone else on the planet practically calls him Big Daddy. Plus, I kinda like the shock value. Sue me.]

I guess it's natural that I should feel like a kid when I go shopping with someone nicknamed Daddy but it's not as if he fulfills some father-figure role in my life. He's my boyfriend. But we usually go grocery shopping every weekend, just about, and I always feel like a little kid when we go. Largely because the grocery store is a foreign land to me. But, he just goes up and down ALL the aisles and I follow along behind, like a little kid, occasionally throwing impulse buys in the cart, like a little kid. Maybe if I had some element of this grocery shopping thing in my own life then it wouldn't be so weird. But it is. It annoys me to NO end that I am forced to eat food every day in order to live and not just whenever I feel like it or just when I have the munchies. This seems like an antiquated idea to me, which is why I almost NEVER have anything resembling real food in my house. In fact, I think they should use my house for a season of Survivor -- see how long those fools could get along here with just the bare minimum and free range of Cafeteria charges. Not long. Not sure how I do it, to tell you the truth -- but I do! What a trooper I am!

Anyways. I think this is further proof why I could never make it as a professional writer -- too easily sidetracked by other subjects. Went from why shopping makes me feel like a little kid to my house being the center of the Survivor show. Crazy! And now I'm off to party like a toddler for the Little Prince's birthday!

HP

from Amelie

"Without you, today's emotions would be but the scurf of yesterday's."

I love that. But then, that just sums up everything that is SO wonderful about that movie. You live your same simple life day in and day out until one day that special person walks into your life who changes everything. Because that person understands you in ways that no one else can. Because that person is a reflection of a part of you. Because you are a reflection of that person in return. The mirror facing the mirror -- the image continuing infinitely.

Plus, I just really like the travelling gnome. ;-)

HP

Diamonds on the soles of my shoes

I've awakened this morning thinking about diamonds. Thinking that the reason that we, as women, are so drawn to them is because we, as women, are so much LIKE them.

We start out as lumps of coal, then a whole lot of pressure is applied and underneath the coal you find the sparkling beauty within us. That gem that is inside of us stands up to most insane amount of heat pressure. Then, diamonds are faceted to show off their true beauty. Just like women. We have our work facets and our home facets and our friend facets and so on. And there are facets even WITHIN those facets. I am not the exact same person with each of my friends, just as I'm not the exact same person when I'm with S. Or at work or with my parents. But, I'm still ME. Just demonstrating different aspects of me.

And then there's the setting. Different cuts of diamond look different in each kind of setting. It's amazing the difference the setting makes. Some settings just really don't bring out the best in some diamonds. Just like some circumstances really do not show us in our best light. Some relationships hide your beauty and strength. But, when you change the setting then you really can see the inner brilliance of a diamond that was simply in the wrong ring or pendant for its design at first.

I'm thinking about this because a friend of mine got out of a bad setting recently. She wasn't being played to her best light and it was keeping her shine down. She was losing her sparkle. But she had the courage of conviction to make that change and now is questioning, well, everything. Don't. You, my friend, are a diamond and you deserve to have all of your facets and all of your sparkle and all that is brilliantly, wonderfully YOU displayed to its best advantage. The world is a sea of settings just waiting for you to nestle into one. You will find one and you will shine again.

And it really is just that simple! ;-)

HP

I should snuggle with what??

Just read the most interesting post on someone else's blog... Talking about how we should embrace our faults. How they're there with us all the time and how THEY never deny us the way we deny them.

I think this is a bunch of crap. Who wants to admit that they're flawed and then embrace those faults?? Hel-LO?

Do I accept the fact that I am overly-melodramatic and hard-headed and stubborn and spend too much money and hate to clean? That I'm loud and arrogant and think I'm ALWAYS right? That I'm nosy and insistent and flaky? That I'm demanding and overly wrapped up in my own agenda??

Yes. I accept that I'm all of these things. But, if I spend too much time EMBRACING my faults, then I forget that there's a lot of really good things about me, too. And the thing is, I've spent a pretty fair amount of my life embracing my faults and thinking about all of the bad things about me. I'm kind of enjoying this time now, where I'm trying to find out and embrace the GOOD things about me.

Such as... I think for the most part, I'm unselfish. I'm a realistic optimist and a pessimistic dreamer. I'm not openly rude to people, even when they really deserve it. (Well, I'm openly rude to my friends -- but that's affection I tell you, AFFECTION!) I'm a forgiver, I don't tend to hold grudges. I'm pretty smart but mostly common sense smart more than book smart. Which I value a lot more because back when I considered myself "book smart", I wasn't too common sense smart. The only way you REALLY get to the common sense part is by going through the stuff. I've been through the stuff and better yet, I've learned a lot from it. I'm funny (not HBO funny, mind you) but I don't expect everyone to be in on the joke.

Ok. To be honest, it was pretty hard to come up with that list. I felt like I was writing a personal ad all over again. Boy, that was an experience... Talk about having to think you were the GREATEST and then talk about it. Odd. I had to dig down deep that time to describe myself and really be honest about it. (Not TOO honest, mind you) It was hard then too coming up with all of those positive, perky things about me. But, I just decided that if I wanted anyone else to want to date me that I should probably want to date me too. :-)

Anyways, me and my faults are going to go cuddle up for the night. My faults have a tendency of hogging the covers and putting their cold feet on me, but that's just their way of embracing me back I suppose. But tomorrow, I'm shunning my imperfections and gonna go paint the town red with my perfections. Yes, I know that didn't make any sense -- and no, I don't care.

xoxo
HP

It's only me

Yesterday, I discovered that the reason that my boss and I seem to have a "clicky" thing is because we are both only children. Made me think about all that is peculiar about being an only child. Made me want to call all of the parents of only children and verbally bitch slap them. It's the worst form of child abuse, frankly. Leaving someone hanging out in the wind like that.

As the only child, I was the only hope that my parents had for a legacy. I was their one shot to live again. I wasn't a super star in school and then I practically got married right out of high school. Not much to crow to their friends about, huh? They've handled their disappointment well enough, I suppose. Even now though, even when I'm 30 and should cease worrying about trying to please my parents -- I'm still a bit of a disappointment. I've let my mom down by not turning into another mini Marth Stewart like herself. (Not the embezzling thing, the decorating thing.) I can't get attached to my house because I really just don't like it, so I can't involved in decorating beyond the stuff she's pretty much done herself. My mother is disappointed in me because I don't own curtains and don't seem to have any real drive to get any.

I'm not sure why my dad's disappointed but I'm sure something will come up. Cat's in the cradle thing, partly -- now that I've moved out I'm "too busy" to keep in touch.

It's too much pressure. When they're gone, that's it for me. No more family unit. No brothers and sisters to fight over their crap with. No big dividing of the will. I am the will! Not something you want to think about.

When I was growing up, the fact that I was an only child was an enviable position. No one to share stuff with, no one's hand me downs, etc. All the attention, ALL the focus. Trust me, this screws you up as an adult. I grew up thinking I was the center of everything and that's not something that you just grow out of. Even after all of the crap that I've been through in my adult life, I STILL get a little pouty when it's not, in fact, all about me.

Notice, not a lot of sitcoms focusing on the only child issue. Because it's not funny when you don't have siblings playing off of each other. Hence, my constant need to talk to myself. "Outbursts" my manager refers to them because I do try to act like I'm directing these comments to an audience. Unfortunately, the audience is in my head!

How funny... Thinking about the "audience" sent me reeling back to high school and I just dug up one of my favorite quotes from Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead (which if you've never read, you really should. The quote was "you don't understand the humiliation of it -- to be tricked out of the single assumption which makes our existence viable -- that somebody is watching." That single phrase sums up so much about my life AND the very essence of being an only child. When you're the only one: someone IS watching.

The funnier thing is that Daddy (S) is an only child too -- but he has step-family, so he's not been completely subjected to the adult bummer part of being an only child: the eccentric aunt thing! (I guess in his case that would eccentric uncle.) Many of the people I am drawn to are only's, too. My godmother (an only child herself) said that we have to create our own extended families, which is what I do I guess.

Anyways, I'm feeling a little off-center today. And now that I've dug out my high school quote journal, well -- I'm pretty much distracted for the rest of the evening. I wonder what that says about me -- how I extrapolate SO much from the snippet thoughts of others, instead of creating my own thoughts that other people can be inspired by??

Interesting...

HP

Ps: FYI, it's kinda hard to feel deep and profound with Eminem in the background, I'll have to choose the music more carefully in the future!

Carson Daly sucks

I really wish I knew how to make that bigger. I don't have time for lengthy blog but this was the first thing on my mind because we watched his late late show before we went to bed last night.

I don't get the whole Carson Daly thing. Tell me again, why is everyone so crazy about him? He's got the strangest color of skin I have EVER seen, I really don't think that color can be found in nature. And then, has there ever been anyone more stuck on themselves? He's the kind of guy I would have had a crush on in junior high school until I grew up in a couple of years and realized what an arrogant ass he was.

He's like an evil frat boy. (Then again, is there any other kind?) Constantly telling stories about his partying times and instead of getting his guests to talk about something more interesting than partying, he challenges them to come up with stories even better than his OWN. Sick. Twisted. Dumb. One of his guests went on and on about the roast that MTV recently threw for Carson, instead of promoting his own movie. If I were his agent, I would have kicked his ass. "What do you care about Carson Daly's roast? What about the movie we're paying you to plug -- if it weren't for THAT movie, your ass wouldn't even be on tv with Carson Daly or even the morning farm report!"

I got to thinking about the whole cult of celebrity thing last night, but unfortunately -- I do not have time to share those thoughts with you. I have to go dash off to work and do that thing all day.

But stay tuned, dear Readers -- for more from inside my head. And a shout out from me to TBO -- thanks again for your kind words, but I am not looking to expand to the publishing yet. Besides, who would pay me for this crap?? :-)

HP

The Priory of Deuces Wild

Last night was SO cool -- I got invited to the inner circle! That's right -- the boys were DESPERATE and they called me. For poker!! And NOT, as expected, to pass out sandwiches. I was so excited that my excitement superceded all other wants and desires... Including a dire need to hit the WalMart to replenish some supplies. "Who needs hairspray, my hair's just gonna fall anyways!" I thought. I was also pretty tired because I had to stay an extra half hour after work and Tuesday is already my long day. But, S has been pretty "strict" about this whole poker is for the boys thing, so I decided that this was my ONE shot, my oppor-tun-it-Y! (I had a little bit of the Eminem song thumping in my head on the drive over, actually -- my palms WERE sweaty!)

It's not like I am a good poker player, I tend to lose a lot. But I really enjoy playing. The chance to maybe win a few bucks and learn some interesting games while I'm at it, that's fun for me. I'm a card nerd, what can I say??

So, S calls after I get off work with the invitation and I think he's pulling my leg. That he just needs me to go pick up the chicken or whatever. But turns out they're short-handed, and "someone else" said it was okay. I run around frantically getting cash and changing clothes. TEAR over there. They're casually sitting around playing, turns out "someone else" is down pretty bad and I think he needed a sucker. We'll call him the Bald One. (Sorry dude, it's early in the morning and my nickname server is down) So, its S and The Bald One and the Retard and that's it. No wonder they needed a body! I announce that I'll be their designated sucker for the evening and we start playing.

It was fun. Everyone was joking on everyone else, but mainly the Retard. (I have to note that I really hate calling the guy the Retard, even if he HAS made retarded comments even about me -- but everyone calls him that so what can I do??) S -- Daddy -- is in his usual state of bliss which I think may be helped by the fact that he seems to be faring okay when I arrive. He actually does a little better for a while after I get there because whenever I deal I seem to be dealing just for him. (What a good girl I am! Securing an invite next time... Not so fast.) I will say this: it was interesting playing poker with Daddy in this setting. He's a little more intense about it than he was the one time we played co-ed poker. But, because we are involved then I have some inkling when he's bluffing and when he's not. AND he figured out my "strategy" for one of the games early on and tried to use it against me. Interesting.

But the whole thing is an interesting phenomenon because The Bald One (TBO, because I'm tired of typing all that out) does a running commentary throughout the game. Basically, I just do what he tells me to. "Well, if you don't have at least blah blah blah then you should probably get out of the hand." "You know you have the lock on the low hand so you want to raise every chance you get." Most of the commentary was directed at the Retard because well... He bets on everything. It's the strangest thing I have ever seen. I'm not sure if suddenly he thinks that a pair of 2's is going to beat a straight flush, but he does. Every time. Frankly, I think this is the strategy. He stays in and bets every time because sooner or later he's going to have something. It must work because I think he broke even.

The only real down part to the evening was a misunderstanding between myself and TBO. Because everyone was talking trash, I started giving him shit along with everyone else. I admit it may have been more directed at him than anyone else, because let's face it -- I'm only going to give Daddy but so much shit and I feel too sorry for the Retard to really let him have it. So, who's left? Yeah. But, it wasn't anything over the top -- just teasing him for his precise poker playing and the running commentary thing. Nothing about his mom for pity's sake. (I come from the "if you dish it out you should be able to take it but don't you DARE talk about my mama" school.) Well, he called me on it. Literally. I was hurt. Asked me why I was being so nasty to him and hadn't he been nice to me after S and I broke up the last time and so forth? It was shocking. I explained that I was just trying to give him back some of what he was dishing out and that I thought it was the nature of our relationship for me to make fun of him and even further pointed out that if I didn't like him I would not make fun of him at ALL (as sooooooooo many of my friends can easily attest to -- especially poor Curly Sue). He accepted it, but it wasn't the same for me after that. I felt self-conscious with every dig thereafter. I mean, I didn't stop GIVING him jabs, but I didn't enjoy it as much. It was like I was a dominatrix who was suddenly told that she was abusive for spanking so hard. What are you kidding?

Anyway. To add insult to injury, I won. I think I may have been the "big" winner but I doubt that since all I won was $19. Still. Caused a rift in the easy male bonding (a-HA, maybe there is a release for them after all!) AND I had the nerve not only to leave with the $20 I came with, but some of their money too. Pretty much guaranteed that I'm out of the running next time around. Oh well, they'll never know it was beginner's luck that way! ;-)

kisses all,
HP

Girlfriend Watch

So, I've been thinking about the long-running Neighborhood Watch program. You know the drill, your neighbors watch your back and you watch theirs. Generally, it's just an excuse for your nosy neighbors to stay nosey, but it's a nice theory. Harkening back to older simpler times. (Yes, I did in fact just say harkening -- deal with it.)

I think that I may have somehow started this program amongst my girlfriends. Well, let me clarify -- I didn't institute the Girlfriend Watch program, because this has long been the code among women -- it's just that it's been actively enforced in my own neighborhood as late. Men behaving badly lends itself to women leaning on their friends more. And that's where I step in. I try to be Supportive Friend, although this generally lends itself to Abrasive Friend. I'll be on Watch (checking on my friend's emotional temperature and making sure there are distracting activities going on and so forth) but then I just get so frustrated with men in general that the Watch generally just turns into Heather going on an "all men suck" tirade. Just basically incensed that someone that I love is being hurt by the insensitive actions of the opposite sex. Why don't they just call? Why don't they just step up to the plate and admit that being in a relationship DOES require more work than eating a BLT and then admit that they are not willing to put forth that much more effort?? Maybe if you offered them a slice of cheese to go on their BLT but my food references are taking over and you see where I'm going...

This is why I'm on Girlfriend Watch currently. Men who don't call or just behave badly in general. What is this about? Berger dumped Carrie via POST IT NOTE for pity's sake. And yes, that's just tv but let's get serious -- this stuff imitates life a little too often. Men who just don't GET IT. I can't figure this phenomenon out. I never have been able to. I understand that women are built to be the caretakers of the relationship, but does that mean that we have to do ALL the work?? When is it their turn? Why don't they care if we don't call for days? Why don't they obsess over every little comment we make and wonder what it means? Why don't they wonder if we consider them to be part of our future? You don't catch them eyeing engagement displays with envy. You don't hear of them bitching amongst themselves about all the things they do that they are unappreciated for. You notice how there are all kinds of shows glorifying the strength of women in times of adversity (ie Sex and the City) but there are no shows demonstrating this bonding aspect of men? It's because there isn't any. Which leads to the question -- does this stuff have ANY impact on them at all?? And if so, where do they put it? How do they deal with it?? Is this why men have such high rates of colon cancer??

It's funny, because if you just happened on the blog and didn't know ME personally then you would think I am a raging man-hater. Which I am, in fact, not. I happen to be very satisfied in my current relationship and do believe that there are many redeeming qualities to be found in men in general. But where the rage against the man machine kicks in is when my friends are being run through the wringer by guys who just can't be honest. Who can't be MEN. Got to pay the cost to be the boss and sometimes that means dealing with the repercussions of your uglier behavior. If we can own up to PMS tirades, then you can give a little back.

And just a little fyi -- women overlook a LOT in the men we love. We always have and we always will. But the friends of the woman who loves you will initiate your undoing if you treat her bad. It's just that simple. Hell hath no fury like the friends of a woman scorned -- often it's worse than the woman herself. So, men: if you treat your woman REALLY bad and she forgives you, you best be including enough flowers in that delivery to dole out to her friends too -- because we're the ones who are really gonna be WATCHING you!

Sincerely yours,
President & Founder of Girlfriend Watch

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

It's funny, to me, that I haven't written in several days. I think I have been pondering what I want to say in a non-stereotyped way... The dawning of football season is once again upon me. A time of year that I try to ignore as much as I can, but becaue I have an inate talent for being attracted to men who are in turn attracted to football -- I'm not terribly successful at ignoring the opening whistle.

S & I started dating (again) in the middle of football season. One of my girlfriends, knowing what a fan he is, commented that he lured me in right at the proper time. I was so dizzy with the falling in love that I completely overlooked his conspicuous absence from Sundays and Monday nights... And even some Thursday nights. We were in the throes of the beginning passion -- we made up for lost time on Saturdays and Tuesdays. We had Sunday nights with The Sopranos. But now that we have settled into more of a comfortable routine, the pending loss of my Sunday-time is causing me some increasing anxiety. More on this.

I expect many readers who know me would expect some big mouthing off on the evils of football. "They're running back and forth and they're jumping on each other and 15 minutes doesn't really MEAN 15 minutes and what does it all mean??" But my feelings on all of this are so oft-repeated that it bores ME to discuss it. It doesn't matter. Football is what it is, it's not going away. It's always going to be a part of the background of my life. I have learned to accept it. I don't like it, I suspect it doesn't like me -- we agree to disagree.

Here's where my problem comes in -- the people who try to convert me. Used to be "the people" were all men. Generally men that I have dated or been married to, who try to convince me to see the beauty that is football. In recent years, there has been an alarming number of women converted to this Church of Football. They try to talk me into getting into football too. They try to explain the ins and outs to me -- during commercials or the off-season, of course.

But let's do the math people: football is a game largely for and about men. Watching and playing, it's men. Who loves men and being around them more than me?? For all of my bitching about the opposite sex and the evils of the Y chromosome -- I'm a big fan. Men lay it out there straight and they don't care if you drink too much beer and start belching, in fact they're usually jealous if you can burp louder than they can. So, realistically -- if I can't get into an event that would involve watching a bunch of boys being boys amongst boys being boys -- then no amount of explaining the joys of the sport are going to convert me. I already KNOW about all the points that would be of interest to me and I still can't get into the game. It's NOT because I don't want to. Think of how much easier my life would be, not to mention how much more time I could spend up my boyfriend's ass. Oh BOY! Seriously. If there were a way for me to become interested in this, I would be on board. But, there isn't and it makes me frustrated.

I have ironically similar feelings about artsy things, so many of my friends are into the Arts and so forth that it would be a lot easier if I were into them. But that's another blog.

But on a final note on my anxiety... Let me just publicly praise S for his remarkable ability to know exactly the right time to butter the biscuit, as it were. With the pre-season already starting and the Fantasy league having its first meeting today, he knows that our relationship is about to go through some changes. My lazy Sunday afternoons that I have grown so fond of (where we just sit around and bs amongst ourselves or go run our errands or whatever) are about to go by the wayside for the next 5 months. It's a bummer of an adjustment, but he's totally risen to the challenge of "Heather's melodramatic overreaction to EVERYTHING" -- and has been very supportive and loving. I won't go into the specifics, because I know how other people's couple-y stuff makes me vomit in my own mouth but trust me, he's been the best. I keep asking if he's done anything wrong but then I realize -- the other woman is football and he's about to pay a LOT of attention to her over these next months. He's storing up good vibes in order to enjoy some estrogen-free times for almost half the year.

I hate to admit it -- but if the rest of the month between now and the REAL season keep up like this... Then, it'll work. Even though he gets a glimmer in his eye when he talks about football that he'll NEVER have when he talks about me, it still works. What a pushover I am! ;-)

Looking forward to lots of Sunday writing...
HP