i really do have odd names for everything... it's not an intentional thing that i do with language, i just put words together in bizarre ways... it's sort of my thing. i like having a thing, or things... depending on how oddball i'm feeling.
last night, after a week filled with responsibilities, i decided to put off all work and just have a date with myself. i got home and instantly put on the jams, popped 'stranger than fiction' into the dvd player, put on a pot of boiling water for my one artichoke (cooking for one will be a whining topic for another day.. when i actually feel like whining of course), got online to order my freshdirect for today, and settled in.
i'm in the final countdown to girl time, and who knows if other women have this 'problem' but i tend to get a little fiesty (will fiester than usual, let's be honest) during the last three days before armageddon. needless to say, i decided to really have a date with myself... so i checked the arti... aaaaaand took care of business. i am not a ride the wave, twelve hour sexcapade, multi orgasmic individual. i'm a one massive, smack the wall, yell your name (if applicable, i have yet to actually yell my own name, but might as well have in this instance) kind of person... and then, please leave me alone. i won't be able to form words, i don't reeaaaally want to cuddle, please lord just let me relish. anyway, last night... for the first time in my ENTIRE life... i gave myself TWO. yes people, you heard me correctly, I HAD TWO IN A ROW!!!
i have girlfriends that like to sort of brag in the tellings of their sexcapades, and how many times they finished and all that la la la. and i've never been jealous, b/c i've always been supremely happy with my big one (as opposed to their smaller many)... but i have to tell you, i was rather a big fan of the multi-BONANZA that was my date with myself.
i should date me more often.
in other news, a guy that i went out on a date with last week (aka rode the motorcycle with), has decided to send me a picture of his business. as a sort of, here's what you're in for kind of a thing. except this particular image that he sent me is of another girls face about to give HIS business the business. now why does this turn me off? hmmmmmmm. i'm all for sexy time, and a little pre naughty talk to get a person excited for the actual business... but really, you ruin the surprise. and if you are going to blatantly push your agenda for the business, i'm going to lose interest in you faster than you can take off your clothes. and in this man's case, i'm going to assume that with that much practice, he's got that down to a science.
cheers.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
my life IS stranger than fiction...
i know i'm being uber wordy today, i just can't help it. i have rather groundbreaking news to tell you all about tomorrow, but i just got done watching 'stranger than fiction' for the third time in three days, and i'm left with such a joyful feeling of hope that i'd like to put the closing monologue of the movie down on paper (computer screen) to remember it and refer back when i need a moment's pause:
As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.
As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.
the letter j is my nemesis... literally
i dont know what it is about the letter j and it's ability to just tear me to pieces. every emotional breakdown i've had, because of a break up or a relationship gone bad, has mostly had to do with the guy having a name that started with a J (ironically, my best friend's name starts with j... so this is the universe's way of saying that i should really be a lesbian.. bygones).
it happened... AGAIN! even in the briefest of interludes i met a man in this city that was actually interesting, and good looking, and talented.. and passionate about so many things... i was actually excited to get to know him. the first week = magic. three great dates and many hours spent together talking, eating, watching movies, and just getting down to the good stuff. week two = the antithesis and the slow fade. if you don't know me then you aren't fully aware of my 'isms', but the slow fade is something i came up with a few years ago to coin a man's sudden failure to communicate... and slowly and quietly slip out of your life without one of those communicative discussions that could be quite simple if someone just said 'it's too fast' or 'i'm not really into you' or 'i'm an idiot and want to be with someone skinnier and with less of a sense of humor'. who knows what goes on inside of a man's brain, but the 180 slow retreat is the most cowardly move i've ever been privvy to. and yet...it happens to me alot. not a LOT, mind you. but i find that the men i meet just can't seem to be honest about what's going on in their little brains.
and so i'm left a little curious, and a lot of wounded... sort of sad, and pretending that someone i've known for 2.5 weeks doesn't have the capability of reducing me to tears by simply deciding that he's not as excited about me as he was when we first met.
alas... the letter j... you've thwarted me again.
check mate.
it happened... AGAIN! even in the briefest of interludes i met a man in this city that was actually interesting, and good looking, and talented.. and passionate about so many things... i was actually excited to get to know him. the first week = magic. three great dates and many hours spent together talking, eating, watching movies, and just getting down to the good stuff. week two = the antithesis and the slow fade. if you don't know me then you aren't fully aware of my 'isms', but the slow fade is something i came up with a few years ago to coin a man's sudden failure to communicate... and slowly and quietly slip out of your life without one of those communicative discussions that could be quite simple if someone just said 'it's too fast' or 'i'm not really into you' or 'i'm an idiot and want to be with someone skinnier and with less of a sense of humor'. who knows what goes on inside of a man's brain, but the 180 slow retreat is the most cowardly move i've ever been privvy to. and yet...it happens to me alot. not a LOT, mind you. but i find that the men i meet just can't seem to be honest about what's going on in their little brains.
and so i'm left a little curious, and a lot of wounded... sort of sad, and pretending that someone i've known for 2.5 weeks doesn't have the capability of reducing me to tears by simply deciding that he's not as excited about me as he was when we first met.
alas... the letter j... you've thwarted me again.
check mate.
dactyl endeavors to battle the flu...again and again and again.
since my lungs have been undergoing a constant battle with the east coast air quality and germ plague, i decided to bite the bullet and succomb to the pseudo-spam-yet-from-human-resources pleas of a free flu shot. i made the trip up to the appropriate floor five times, only to be told the first time that the doctor had run out of shots about eight people in front of me, and the remaining times to find a line so long, you'd think they were giving away diamonds... or even top quality peanut brittle. who knows. fifth time was a charm however, and i was at the front of the line when the rest were informed that they only had six shots left (i received number 2). i don't know what it is about such a scenario that causes me to actually GLOAT to the rest of the line, and cheekily try to sell my shot to the highest bidder... but the words did in fact come out of my mouth. obviously, not one person found that moment amusing (except me of course... and i would like to point out that the nurses administering the shot found me hilarious... lest you all suddenly worry that i've lost my mojo).
unfortunately, i'm now worried that my body can't battle the virus they've injected into my arm. i have been sneezing like a sneezing fool all last night and today. i got super dizzy last night and just kept eating and drinking water until it went away, but still felt a little offkilter. and my arm kills. of course that means that i can't work out (oh darn, it'll have to wait a day), but it's sort of ridiculous that one little stab in the arm can sideline your regular life so badly. bygones. i'll win this battle. my already forming powerhouse antibodies have been adequately bribed. if they do a good job, i promise not to kick them out.
do you ever notice how much better a woman walks when wearing heels? i don't know what it is about me, but i'm always made aware of the fact that i FEEL like i have more confidence when wearing something with a little lift. it's as if my lower half is doing magic tricks on stilts. love it.
i've got my morning coffee in hand... let the fantasmica begin.
unfortunately, i'm now worried that my body can't battle the virus they've injected into my arm. i have been sneezing like a sneezing fool all last night and today. i got super dizzy last night and just kept eating and drinking water until it went away, but still felt a little offkilter. and my arm kills. of course that means that i can't work out (oh darn, it'll have to wait a day), but it's sort of ridiculous that one little stab in the arm can sideline your regular life so badly. bygones. i'll win this battle. my already forming powerhouse antibodies have been adequately bribed. if they do a good job, i promise not to kick them out.
do you ever notice how much better a woman walks when wearing heels? i don't know what it is about me, but i'm always made aware of the fact that i FEEL like i have more confidence when wearing something with a little lift. it's as if my lower half is doing magic tricks on stilts. love it.
i've got my morning coffee in hand... let the fantasmica begin.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
last night... we baked
coworker J and i attempted to do some baking last night after work. and no, i most certainly do NOT mean the illegal kind... i'm talking flour and eggs and sugar here people, stay with me.
we were overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of making these green tea cheesecake brownies but really, they look like white mini quiche squares. too much butter perhaps?? who knows. but we have them at work and are waiting for SOMEONE to brave the weird appearance and give them a little taste.
someone just sent us an email saying that they are, in fact, delish... right this second. i was going to transition my thought pattern, but had to tell you. success!! even if the nibbler is a young canadian girl.. it counts.
i rather enjoy all things domestic. i really love doing laundry, and cooking, and organizing, and sewing, and all such things. i dont actually like the cleaning part however. if it weren't for the advent of the swiffer, i would be living in a ginormous pile of dust bunnies. i mean if you're going to keep pets, they might as well be living beings, right? can dust bunnies be considered pets? i'm going to look into it, b/c i'm certainly not going to pay anyone a pet deposit simply b/c i abhor dusting.
i tangent... whoopsie.
we were overwhelmed with excitement at the thought of making these green tea cheesecake brownies but really, they look like white mini quiche squares. too much butter perhaps?? who knows. but we have them at work and are waiting for SOMEONE to brave the weird appearance and give them a little taste.
someone just sent us an email saying that they are, in fact, delish... right this second. i was going to transition my thought pattern, but had to tell you. success!! even if the nibbler is a young canadian girl.. it counts.
i rather enjoy all things domestic. i really love doing laundry, and cooking, and organizing, and sewing, and all such things. i dont actually like the cleaning part however. if it weren't for the advent of the swiffer, i would be living in a ginormous pile of dust bunnies. i mean if you're going to keep pets, they might as well be living beings, right? can dust bunnies be considered pets? i'm going to look into it, b/c i'm certainly not going to pay anyone a pet deposit simply b/c i abhor dusting.
i tangent... whoopsie.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
my valediction prediction...
just go with it... it rhymes.
i have very intelligent friends... i do. i'm not going to lie. such things usually make me feel good about myself. for some reason, new york has provided me the opportunity to increase the knowledge level of my friend base. why is that you might ask (or you might if you actually cared about what i had to say... so thank you... for those that actually, in fact, you know... care)? i think it's because there's a pretension that goes along with this place. people really seem to care about where you went to college, and what you studied, and the number of degrees you have (because one bachelor degree doesn't really cut the mustard), and all that flim flam. whatever. sit at a table with me and my coworkers on any given day and this will be the round up: yale, yale, stanford, harvard, oxford, brown, yale, university of washington. pretty sure that last one is the dactyl (good call). it amuses me. but at the same time i can't stand verbal showboating. it's a fine line, but in the publishing industry, advanced vocabulary is routine.
i left los angeles because i couldn't stand how plastic the city was... and not just in a surgically cosmetic sense... the people just seemed to have no souls. i lived there for two years and didn't generate one meaningful relationship with a single person there. tres boring. but i find that i dislike new york for the opposite reason. there is meaning, but does soulfullness exist here?
back to my original topic... whenever i find myself puzzling over the meaning of a certain word or concept, i know not to trouble myself too greatly with it. i simply lean my head out my office and ask the general nearbys what the answers are. more likely than not, it is my bff at work R... and in today's case he came through for me. again.
during lunch S posed the following question: i know that the opening of any letter is called a salutation, but what is the closing called? the answer: a valediction. R wins again.
and now you can all consider yourself enlightened...
i have very intelligent friends... i do. i'm not going to lie. such things usually make me feel good about myself. for some reason, new york has provided me the opportunity to increase the knowledge level of my friend base. why is that you might ask (or you might if you actually cared about what i had to say... so thank you... for those that actually, in fact, you know... care)? i think it's because there's a pretension that goes along with this place. people really seem to care about where you went to college, and what you studied, and the number of degrees you have (because one bachelor degree doesn't really cut the mustard), and all that flim flam. whatever. sit at a table with me and my coworkers on any given day and this will be the round up: yale, yale, stanford, harvard, oxford, brown, yale, university of washington. pretty sure that last one is the dactyl (good call). it amuses me. but at the same time i can't stand verbal showboating. it's a fine line, but in the publishing industry, advanced vocabulary is routine.
i left los angeles because i couldn't stand how plastic the city was... and not just in a surgically cosmetic sense... the people just seemed to have no souls. i lived there for two years and didn't generate one meaningful relationship with a single person there. tres boring. but i find that i dislike new york for the opposite reason. there is meaning, but does soulfullness exist here?
back to my original topic... whenever i find myself puzzling over the meaning of a certain word or concept, i know not to trouble myself too greatly with it. i simply lean my head out my office and ask the general nearbys what the answers are. more likely than not, it is my bff at work R... and in today's case he came through for me. again.
during lunch S posed the following question: i know that the opening of any letter is called a salutation, but what is the closing called? the answer: a valediction. R wins again.
and now you can all consider yourself enlightened...
Monday, October 22, 2007
a busy weekend and the vroom vroom...
thank the ceiling for small favors... after a very busy weekend of traveling and shooting (new jersey and connecticut), i found myself back at home on sunday evening preparing for a date that never happened. he was tired. feeling slightly deflated about the way this new romance had fizzled, i decided to take a stranger up on his offer to take me on a bike ride... and by bike, i mean the real kind.. the motorcycle.
we did a full swoop of lower manhattan, at about 70 miles an hour, the wind blasting me in the face, my legs doing their duty of keeping me on the bike... and a grin deliciously plastered across my face. overall i never loved living in southern california, but i certainly do miss those weekend bike rides out ortega highway... stopping randomly for beers and mexican food. last night i had a taste of that again, and boy... it was just what i needed. JUST... WHAT... I... NEEDED!
until next weekend, when we ride again... i'll be here enjoying the smile that won't leave my face.
we did a full swoop of lower manhattan, at about 70 miles an hour, the wind blasting me in the face, my legs doing their duty of keeping me on the bike... and a grin deliciously plastered across my face. overall i never loved living in southern california, but i certainly do miss those weekend bike rides out ortega highway... stopping randomly for beers and mexican food. last night i had a taste of that again, and boy... it was just what i needed. JUST... WHAT... I... NEEDED!
until next weekend, when we ride again... i'll be here enjoying the smile that won't leave my face.
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