I'm posting just to post.

I like to do that sometimes.

Sometimes.

I don't blog for me much anymore. And I'm not blogging for YOU because I'm not sure I know who you are.

I mean, I could talk about my PMS and stuff, but do you really want to know about all of that?

I could talk about how I really feel, but I'm not even sure you want to know about that. (But this could be because of the PMS.)

I just think that there's this correctness that is S L O W L Y creeping into my life. Trying to be correct about how I talk and behave. At least, in front of the world.

Well, no. That's not right either. It's the work world. It's that damned committee again, actually. Someone that was in my group was explaining their particular issues with our company and what they think we should do to fix it. I just had a hard time keeping a straight face. Does the girl not realize that we work for the man? Because I think that if you are upset because the man is concerned about his numbers and his bottom line, then you are really not getting that you work for the man. If you don't like it, you can go work for some other man. But as long as you have a job in corporate America. No, as long as you have a job, you are always going to be working for the man.

It's just different numbers with different versions of the man. But, ultimately, the man cares about his numbers. Because that affects the man that The Man cares about -- Benjamin!

What do you say to someone who just doesn't get this? What is the correct way to address the fact that someone doesn't realize they work for the man?

Why don't YOU tell me?

Threat response?

Tonight, I was listening to Loveline on the radio (the radio show with Adam Corolla -sp?- and Dr. Drew) and there was a fascinating study reported. Forgive my fuzzy reporting, I came in in the middle of the fascinating study. But apparently there was a test done where a bunch of men were shown erotic pictures of men and women were shown erotic pictures of women -- and in 100% of the males (who were all heterosexual) there was a visceral response to the part of the brain that goes off if there is a threat.

That is fascinating. 100% of men who are in a study have a response of feeling threatened if they see erotic images of men.

The Loveline response is that frankly it's a miracle that there aren't more gay bashings in the world. Not that they're saying it's okay. They were just making this point that all men have this response of feeling threatened by other men.

This response generates in the medbadablalulum or something in the brain. The indication is that this response doesn't go off in homosexual men. (Maybe they haven't tested them yet? I'm saying I didn't hear the whole thing, okay?!) SO, the next step is, of course, to figure out why.

And this is how I think we can maybe get those Republicans behind stem cell research... The only thing they hate more than advancing scientific research is gay men! If the cause of the scientific research is figuring out what makes the gay men, perhaps that is a cause they can get behind.

Well, not behind another man because they might see that and get threatened...

Inside Heather's Hair

This is one of my favorite people, Diane. Went up to visit her in DC for a QUICK visit on Tuesday night. She was only on the coast briefly visiting from South Dakota -- and you know how hard it is to get people to visit from THAT state!! ;-)

It so happened at the end of our visit, she finally asked me in all due seriousness how people can live here and not have big hair all of the time because of the humidity. I really wish we could have had more time to talk because that was ONE recipe I was able to share! I think that this is the reason, though, why so many Southern women have big hair: they have simply given up and decided to stop fighting the humidity.

But, here's the thing. It's a complicated formula. Only someone as addicted to my own hair as me can share it. And since even Lori hasn't been that addicted to my hair after the Feria Incident, I am going to share it with my reading sect of America. (All 4 of you!)

The truth is that in order to not have big hair, I have had to succumb to built up hair. Because it's the build-up that fights the humidity effects. This formula consists mostly of moisturizing shampoo mixed with a day or two of a "clean" hair product. The problem is that you can really only have build-up hair for a good two days, then it gets too icky and unworkable. So, then you have to strip off the build up and give in to the humidity a bit. I will usually go to a "stripper" for that -- usually the Pantene clear stuff. This along with just a light conditioner gives me drier hair. Usually I'll do wavy hair on these days and use mousse. No shine products. This look is what Scott usually refers to as my "homeless look." It winds up in a pony tail half way through the day and almost only happens on weekends. The dryness leads us back to a moisturizing phase and there you go -- how to fight the humidity/hair war and win!

Wow, I'm so deep in my shallowness now that my fingers would have gotten pruney -- if it weren't so shallow that is.

***********update on missing person****************

For Catt or anyone else interested -- I "found" Julia. I tracked down an email address and she responded this morning.

Heather Lee -- Super Sleuth!

Hee hee

*****************end of update****************************

Missing Person

I've lost my friend Julia Renalds.

Have you heard from her? Know how to reach her? Are you her?

Julia and I haven't kept in very good touch since she left the States to tour the world with the military, but I was used to the sporadic contact.

Usually, I would initiate our getting back in touch with a quick "Are you dead?" email that would force her to respond. I sent one out -- but it was rejected by her email account. I looked up her phone number on line, and I've been calling but never any answer. Maybe it's an internet only line. I even tried to email the last email address I had for her mom -- but it's no good.

Julia is gone.

I feel bad for using her full name on the blog, but I'm really desperate. I would like to hear from my friend. I know we don't keep in close contact, but I think of her a lot and want to know how she is doing.

Juuuuuulia!

If you ever check in, please send me an email and let me know where you are and how to reach you...

committed

No, this is not yet another loving being in a relationship post. This is a work thing.

One day our brainless heroine, whom we will call ME, asks her boss about all the special projects that people seem to be working on in my office. I asked how people get chosen for these projects and how could I let it be known that I was interested?

That VERY afternoon a "special project" popped up. My boss asked if I would be interested and I indicated that I was. I felt kind of cornered since I had just brought it up that afternoon, but I liked the director who was heading the project so I figured what the heck.

What the heck indeed.

Let me try to explain this thing. Basically, where I work there are a LOT of whining, bitching, moaning, complaining people who can't just fix people's mistakes and move on with their lives -- they have to raise a big stink about the fact that they have to "clean up their messes." My team is assigned to figure out exactly what these messes are and what can be done to prevent the messes from happening in the first place.

The real answer is: stop hiring human beings, for Christ's sake! It's really easy!

But, that wasn't simple enough. So we've gathered data and now our little committee has grown to include a representative from each of the 30 units in my department. We have mascots and power points and no real idea WHAT the fuck we're doing.

I hate it.

And I'm stuck on it for the rest of the year "cascading" information down to the folks below me. Trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

Trying to care that the human beings that we work with screw up everything for everyone!

Two Stories about Friday

First

Friday morning, I was at my usual pace for work (just barely on time) when our repair guys showed up to install our new over-the-stove microwave. At this exact moment, my neighbor comes knocking on my door and tells me that I should get my tire filled before I go to work because it's pretty low. The repair guys happen to have an air compressor with them and they refill the tire but point out that it has a nail in it (!) and that I should get it patched asap.

I was going to wait until after work but got a little paranoid and decided to stop and take care of it since I was already running late.

Turns out, I was really glad I did. Because I met this way cool woman who shared many of her life experiences with me. I only caught her name because one of the guys at the shop addressed her as such. But she was awesome. I learned that she had been married for 40 years before her husband had passed away in 2001. She had had 3 kids of her own, but in her own family she was number 10 out of 11. (11!)

This was my favorite story. She had moved to Hampton and the kids were first starting the school there. Her youngest son was not very happy at school and though she kept telling him it would get better, he kept insisting that it would NOT. On the fourth day in the new school, he says that the teacher has been giving him a very hard time and seems to have singled him out.

Her reaction is the same as any over-protective mother. My baby? Being picked on by the teacher? No one is going to treat MY baby this way! I will go up and have word with her first thing tomorrow and get this straight.

The boy's face lights up -- he sees his salvation.

Mom says that there was one more thing. The thing is, she says, that this is the fourth day of school. The teacher must see 130 students a day. Why is it in this short a period of time does she know her son SO well to have singled him out for her attention?

The boy's face falls. Never mind, Mama, I'll take care of it. I'm sure it will be okay.

This was my favorite story. But, really the woman was just so wonderful. So full of life and experience and I could have stayed and pulled from that all day.

And it made me appreciate this aspect of my personality -- of talking to random people in gas stations and hearing their portion of the human experience. Because we're all going through this in our own ways and it's just such a fascinating journey.

Second

Later that night, Scott and I were out with a group of people in a bar. The waitress was inattentive from the beginning. She wouldn't come and get orders. She would get partial orders and then make us wait to complete them. One could argue that it was Friday night and it was busy, but several of our party saw her up at the bar flirting and playing with the bartender. Not TOO busy for that.

This was a large part of the conversational topic that evening.

We cut our time at the bar short, largely because the service was so bad. When we finally got our check, the gratuitity was included because our party was so large. Therefore, we had no way to show our displeasure with the service.

Well, unless we're Scott. He wrote on the check, "This was the worst service ever."

He paid the bill and we started to walk out. The waitress approached us and asked what he meant by that?? He explained the aspects of our service that were bad and she basically stalked off.

We stood outside for a few minutes gathering our group and determining our plan. A few of our party come out to tell us that the waitress was in tears. One said that her comment was, "I didn't think the service was that bad."

That bad? Doesn't that imply that you knew it was not that good?

Here is where I split down the middle. The service was bad, but I'm not much of one for conflict AND I really hate to be the reason anyone cries. Even if they "deserved" it for ignoring us so totally. (Don't assume things -- Scott was not the only person who voiced this exact sentiment.)

The Unicorn will ask for new servers. Some people will ask for a manager. Some people will just lay down and take it. The Librarian and I had an interesting discussion about this one time when I short-tipped someone because I was displeased with the service... Her take was that the servers make MUCH less than minimum wage and their tips are all they have to survive on. My take was that if you are living on your tips, then you should probably earn them. If I don't do good at my job, my boss hears about it and it could potentially affect my continued employment. Why should I expect any less of the service I receive in the public??

But, really it all goes back to the human experience. Our visit to that bar on that night made a negative impact on that woman's life. Will it stick wither her? Will she learn to be more attentive? Will we react differently if we are in a situation with bad service?

Who knows? It was all part of the human experience on one Friday night.

heard on the radio this morning

"This report was sponsored by Heritage for the Blind. Don't sell that old car, donate it to Heritage for the Blind..."

I'm sorry, but what are blind people going to do with my car? I'm a little disturbed by that.

Should I donate my old stereo to the deaf foundation??

Adding pictures to your blog was never easier! Thanks Blogger!

Yes, these are our children with the "children" I had when I was a child. Try saying that three times fast.

It's scary that I know that some of you will actually try to say that three times fast...

as the blog turns

I will now begin a typical Heather blog in the typical fashion...

There really is not much going on. But, it has been mentioned to me that my blog has been a bit light of late.

I was mocked for being happily married and thus not having an blog fodder.

Well, that's ridiculous.

Technically, there is blog fodder but I don't always want to blog about it.

And I haven't had any funny events lately.

I need some funny events, damn it.

I mean, I've had fun. But I was really fucked up and don't remember much of what happened. (That was for you, K & H.)

Best thing to happen lately was that I spent this past weekend with my girls. HP2 and the Librarian. GOOD times, lots of drinking and venting and drinking. And venting. If I hadn't been so hungover, I would have felt GREAT all weekend!

I have started working out again. In fact, I'm sitting here blogging while I procrastinate going to the gym. But, I will actually go. And that is a BIG change in my life. Before I procrastinated going to the gym to the point that I would just not go. Now I am going a little bit. I don't want to spend my life in the gym, but I don't want to keep beating myself up about being fat anymore either. (Especially since you burn 0 calories beating yourself up. How fair is that?)

I read the new Harry Potter book. I cut work to read the book all day last Monday because Scott got his grubby hands on it first and I was left with sloppy seconds. I think it's my favorite. So sad what happens, but just soooooo good! Far better than Harry grumpy and pissy like he was in book 5.

I go back to school on August 18th and I am really looking forward to that. Get back into the habit of thinking again -- now THAT is a challenge!

Okay -- I really do have to go to they gym. To anyone reading, thanks for continuing to stop by my blog even though it's so rarely updated.

This is what happens to your material when you eliminate drama from your life other than Felicity, eh?

xoxo

HPL

PS: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CUZZIN SUMITRA!

ONE

Well, looks like we made it. Yesterday was our one year anniversary.

24 more to go and then it's time to move on! :-)

We didn't do anything incredibly sexy or romantic or even all that exciting, but we did spend the day together and talked a lot -- which is the greatest gift I can ever get anyway.

The thing is that Scott and I went through a LOT in our first year of marriage.

Before we even got married, we had the fun-filled ordeal with the Mominator. Scott's mom cancelled the rehearsal dinner, stirred up bunches of drama and caused a mutual severing of ties. I became Public Enemy #1 for causing a woman to "lose" her son. The facts of the case were not important, it was all my fault.

We hadn't even been married for a month when his cat Jasper died. Jasper was honestly his best friend, his buddy, his compadre. Jasper is the only cat who willingly, eagerly came when called and didn't try to make it look like an accident. Jasper loved his Daddy and openly showed affection for every little thing that Scott did for him -- and the feeling was mutual. It was heartbreaking to go through that loss with him, and I honestly would have done anything to have kept that from happening.

Then there was the great move in. This was pretty horrific and undocumented. I hadn't lived with a man that wasn't my dad in 6 years. He'd been living on his own for well over a year. We didn't mesh terribly well and getting cozied into my 1100 square foot townhouse was somewhat of a nightmare. Still, it forced us to really work on our communication skills and, in the long run, made our marriage much stronger. He learned that I'm high maintenance but sort of pretend not to be. And I learned that "whatever makes you happy" roughly translates to "whatever will make you stop bitching at me."

There is still a toilet seat problem that I gave up on.

In December, still not even at a six month mark for our marriage, my dad died. There is no way for me to ever be able to sum up how grateful I am to Scott for getting us through that time. He was my rock and he helped hold me up and then rocked me to sleep at night when I was crying. And still helped keep my whole family's sense of humor up a little. Prime example: Scott went along when we went to the funeral home to make the arrangements. The funeral director was very nice and compassionate, as they are prone to be, and was pretty matter-of-fact in how much the service was going to cost. Scott just flat out asked him if there was anything he could do to lower the price of the services, and the guy came down in price. Later on, Scott admitted to feeling bad because he didn't want anyone to think he was trying to cheapen Dad's memory, and then added, "But baby, you know I don't pay retail for anything."

You have no idea how often I think of that phrase.

2005 has been the year of career shifting. Scott is in his 3rd job for the year. Filing our taxes next year should be mighty interesting.

We've helped my mom move and inadvertently run a low-frills, er, couch and breakfast for my gimpy cousin. We've had a new cat arrival. We've seen friends come and go.

I just did the math and figured that there are 8760 hours in one year. Really, it doesn't seem like that much when you compare it to a lifetime -- which is how much time I hope we have together...

Mrs. Big Daddy :-)

Random Pre-Coffee Thought

I can't help but wonder if it is the internet that really spoils the real customer service experience. You go to a store and no one is there to help you. When you find someone to help you, they don't know the answers to what feels like even the most basic questions. They seem to be lying to you about the very product you are about to buy.

Then there's the internet. You don't really need anyone to help you when you're shopping on line because it's all right there at your fingertips. No one has to show you where something is -- it's right there. If there are no answers to your questions, you just go out on the web and surf for the answers. Want the truth about the product you're buying? Here are 50 reviews hyperlinked under it's name. Or just see what Google has to tell you. You can even Ask Jeeves.

In real life, you have to actually deal with people and all of their underpaid short-comings. They don't want to be where they are answering your stupid questions. Even if they were being paid more, they would still think your questions are stupid and not really want to help you. Sure, you come across a random person from time to time who gives you amazing customer service, but is it really going to equal what you're getting at Amazon.com?

I understand why it's hard to go out into the real world and be treated like an idiot by some 17 year old that you are about to hand over your personal needs to and try to get them to care. But we've got to keep the need for the people out there going, don't we? Underpaid and less than helpful, it's still someone else to interact with.

messy, outgoing, open, self revealing, ambivalent about chaos, unpredictable, not good at saving money, social, likes large parties, likes to stand out, risk taker, quick to make friends, does not like to be alone, rash, fame seeking, sarcastic, craves attention, social chameleon, low self control, food lover, not rule conscious, weird, assertive, not a perfectionist, anti-authority, thrill seeker, vain, likes to fit in, reckless, emotionally sensitive, leisurely, trusting

I took one of those internet personality tests that Goth Girl is always posting on her blogs and that's what it said about me.

You wanna take it? Personality test by Similarminds.com

TRUE CONFESSIONS

Here's the thing. I am sure that I have mentioned in the past that I have a competitive nature. I'm not sure how much I would have talked about this, since I am, frankly, ashamed of it. But, it's there. The shameful part is just how deep it goes.

For one, at work I have a thing when we have a potluck. I have this super easy Mexican dip that I make that there is slight variation in... You know, the thing they accused Martha Stewart of... Doctoring her printed recipes just a tad so that they can't come exactly how she makes them. The competitive part is how many requests I get to make it, or get asked what the ingredients are, or worse yet how much of it is eaten. I try to mix it up and bring other things, to humble myself by showing no one cares what I bring. But then, they don't eat the "other" thing and I'm back in the race again.

But, my true confession is about my competitive dating. Now that I am married, not much to compete over. No one's putting up a fight -- we each bought in. He says that I invent things to complain about, but that's not exactly true. I'm complaining because I am in the zone. The Fight Zone. I need to win -- we need to be The Best Couple. We need to be The Couple Everyone Wants to Hang Out With. (The last title is too long, I've got to tweak that.) We have to be funniest and most entertaining and most stories and best hair and best clothes and best all-around.

It' s a lot of pressure. And the problem is that I have low self-esteem and so I put a lot of pressure on Scott to be "the interesting one" in our group. I need him to be the stronger link. Again, it's a lot of pressure. And I wonder if I am the only one who feels like this?

Have you ever hung out with another couple and while you were driving home, compared their relationship to yours? Or just talked abouot some of the "odd things" you saw in the other couple? Did you ever wonder if they were doing the same thing to you? Did you ever wonder if their fighting was just for show? Or did you think it sure seems like they never fight? Are they this happy all the time? Why DON'T they get a room??

Do you believe that I am the person you can talk to about these things when no one else talks about them? Don't you think that everyone wishes that they could talk about these things, but doesn't realize that other people agree?

Or is all of this really just me??

And if you are in a competition that other couples don't even know that they are in, does that mean you win??

Heather Time

There was a catch-phrase that really caught on around the time that my father passed away. That phrase was (insert your name) Time. It started with Scott, who was a bit overwhelmed by all of the family presence and then got an infection to boot. He said that he needed some "Scott Time," and it would be understood that he just needed to get away from the madness for a minute. Gradually the phrase was used for just about anyone, particularly my aunt's introverted husband who needed to have some Bob Time.

I've been thinking about this lately because I've really been wanting some Heather Time. My husband hasn't been working the last couple of weeks (we'll call that a voluntary temporary hiatus, scheduled to end on July 5), and so we have been spending more than an average amount of time together. This is not incredibly unusual, really, as his job usually has him home before I get home. But, before there had been pockets of time for Heather Time. There hasn't been much lately.

But, tonight he is out with the boys. Sweet Georgia Brown!

Don't misinterpret that I don't like spending time with my husband. I do and generally I prefer large quantities. More is better!

But. When I have Heather Time, I can watch all of the Felicity and Gilmore Girls and whatever other estrogen tv may suit me. I can talk on the phone without having to leave the comfort of my couch because my loud talking interferes with the tv. (Not disputing that this is true, though.) I can drink wine for dinner. Our cats will remember that I live here too and come and talk to me. I can wear pore reducing masks around the house and not have to worry about being green-faced and weirder than usual.

But, best of all, having Heather Time allows me to miss having Scott around. Makes me appreciate him more. Makes me less grouchy. Which is a much-needed development in my personality, I can assure you.

It's important to get your (Insert Your Name Here) Time. It makes you appreciate your The Rest of the Damned World Time. :^)

Melting Pot

So much stirring around in my head tonight that it's tempting to just spew out a bunch of stream of conscious stuff. Not that this isn't what I do already, but I at least try to make it make a little sense to those outside of my head.

Rhetorically speaking (don't write, this is not about you) -- what does one do when one feels like one can no longer rely on one's friends and wants to strike out fresh? Do you stop returning their calls? Gradually stop doing things with them until they get the point? What is the answer? It sounds cliched, but I really do have a friend in this situation. Ready to get out of past friendships, no matter what the cost, and move on. I see this and it's alarming to me. I don't want my friend to be alone and deny these friends. But my friend feels let down by these friends and refuses to just talk to them about it. Would rather just let them go then open those lines. It's hard to watch. I can't talk to my friend about it much -- just hope that we stay friends...

What to do when an old love pops back into your life unexpectedly?? Another friend going through this and called me to "fuss." I really don't have the answer to this, but because it's so easy for me. My past loves are very much my past. If I saw them again, I have no doubt it might be odd but only for the moment. I just love Scott too much, those other people are nothing in comparison. But, she doesn't know how to make the feeling go away. The butterflies are fluttering and it was totally unexpected. I, for once, had no advice. What do you say? I think she feels what she feels because it was unresolved and she's always going to wonder. That's why closure is so important -- it keeps you from passing out in the meat department when you run into your old love 10 years after it's all over.

I've still been friend-dating but it's hard when my friend loves her husband as much as I love mine -- no one wants to venture out solo. But, Jesus -- how the fuck do you ever get to complain about them if you can't get away??

My anniversary is looming and it blows my mind. I cannot believe that we have been married one year and yet, it seems so long already because we have been through so much already...

Father's Day this weekend. I miss my dad a lot. Much more than I ever thought I would. I feel for all of the women that are actually quite close to their dads and have a "regular" relationship with them. Dad and I never had that -- in fact, we were only starting to get close to something approaching one when his health problems started kicking in -- and yet I miss him every day. You just never think you're going to lose one of your parents (how careless, to lose him) when you're in your 30's. After all, my parents were at least in their 50's before their parents started dying. It just doesn't seem right. I should be better prepared.

It's easy to martyr Dad now that he's gone, but I know that he was no saint. In fact, I spent most of my life in opposition to him. We just couldn't see eye to eye. Even towards the end, the last fight we had was about Fox News. He really believed it was fair and unbiased. But, I knew that he loved me even though he couldn't say it and it was nice having that to fall back on.

Happy Father's Day, Bobby Chuck, wherever you are...

2nd post

I get a little vain sometimes about my writing. It's one of the reasons I have always kept some form of journal. Actually, my blog is pretty journally, just a lot more censored. (Can you imagine that this shit is being censored? Not for cuss words, obviously.)

It's just so interesting to me to go back and read things that I wrote a couple of years ago. Sometimes I have a way of voicing how I feel about things that doesn't even seem to come out of me. I certainly don't usually talk the way I write. It feels good to be able to turn a phrase that absolutely captures the meat of what I want to say...

Like this from August of 2003: 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.

It's kind of sad that I still feel that way. Still can't seem to overcome my own obnoxiousness to get over myself. It's not that I don't like me, it's just that I need to be a little less interested in me and a lot more engaged in other people.

Reminds me of one of my favorite drunken "spats" (if you can even call it that) with the Librarian. We were at a party and there were only a handful of people there that we knew. The group we came with was ready to roll but the Librarian was DEEPLY involved in a conversation with someone at this party and was pretty torqued off that we wanted to just leave. Because Heather, she said to me, she is another human being. She has thoughts and ideas and it's wrong to just walk aways like that doesn't matter.

Dude, it was a party. It was time to party on -- was basically my response.

Anyways, need to get more involved with those human beings and their thoughts and ideas.

What do you think?

Aw shit, I've gone and not posted anything forever again.

Sorry.

Hello? (taps the mic) Hello??

I'm sorry, really.

I've had mental jank going on -- I've been a bit at odds.

I'm getting back together though.

Please come back!

Did you see The Breakfast Club reunion on the MTV Movie awards? I'm afraid it was a bit lamer than I had hoped for, but still nice to recall. The movie's going to lose it's edge though if TBS doesn't stop showing it into ubiquity -- can we get a year off?

Anyways, I'm not gone. I'm around.

I'll post something for you soon. How can I neglect you, you sexy bitches?? ;-)

Penis Envy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is all that I am saying.

Humor-sucking risk management PMS infested day

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

I'm pretty sure it's PMS.

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

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

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

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

I mean, I'm just saying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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