Visitors

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

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

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

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

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

xoxo
H.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott and Heather goofing off on the tour bus. 

Heather in Times Square 

Ketchup

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

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

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

Why don't I own a martini shaker again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kisses

Coffeehouse Name

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

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

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

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

I do not get it.

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

Why go and change your name and still be yourself?

Do you ever tell what your real name is?

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

I do not get it.

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

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

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

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

Shopaholic

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

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

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

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

And I did -- HARD.

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

Not good.

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

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

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

Not to mention melting all of my credit cards.

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

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

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

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

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

BOYS TOWN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CINGULAR SUCKS

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXO
the Cynic

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

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

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

Sigh.

The Forwarder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Heather Show

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, there IS that.

My brother

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

Why not indeed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kisses all --

HPL

What year was 'size 8'?

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

Wow.

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

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

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

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

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

Like a babbling brook or rambling rose...

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

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

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

Indeed. But who has time for that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xoxo y'all