did i ever tell you, you're my HERO(E)...

not that i really wanted to give ole bette a shout out this morning, i was just pondering the awesome that is 'heroes' and wanting to share that i'd completely caught up on this season's episodes via nbc.com and the worst stop and go media player i've ever experienced in my life... but really, it's worth it. Milo is delicious and i'm a big fan of all this no-shirt business that they've got him doing thus far. don't watch 'heroes' with me... all i do is jump on the couch (or bed if i'm watching in my own room) and scream 'where's peter!!?' over and over again until he comes back on screen. and i thought my prisonbreak crush was bad... i don't even watch that show anymore.

hello milo (who looks better than this pic since he buzzed his hair):



for all of you keeping track, i am officially not pregnant. i've been on birth control since i was fourteen years old (for cramp maintenance not b/c i'm uber slutty, spank you very much), so being three days late is a complete oddity for me. that ended this morning, so we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming. the one where i sleep alone and don't participate in any activities in which i'd find myself in this situation again. did that make sense? i swear i'm babbling but it might just be my uterus yelling via my typing fingers. they're all consipiring against me, i tell you... my vicious body parts.

carry on...

it's a constant reminder really... no... really!

i consider myself to be borderline computer savvy and above average when it comes to the world of technology. i mean, my mother always asks me to program her remotes, and show her how to use email systems, etc... so i'm a total pro right? sometimes... not so much.

i have some pretty massive computer geeks in my friend basket too, so you'd think that it would sink in. and some of it has... i know some tricksie little tools.

anyway, i was having some issues with my upgraded pc at work and sent a ticket in to the help desk... and upon inspection of the 'ticket xxxoxox295 has been opened' (and yes somehow that became hugs and kisses ticket but whatever) i realized that my original email had been bounced around between three or four upper level IT managers asking 'do you have any idea what tara is talking about?' the answer, obv, is NO... they did not.

so i emailed one of the originators of the email strain to say 'it is entirely possible that i am retarded... so am i?'... and he called to explain that i was, in fact, crazy. all of my assumptions about why my computer wasn't functioning properly: totally in my own head. makes a girl feel special, you know? and by special i DO mean that a short yellow bus is coming to take me to school.

bollocks.

the mighty will eventually fall...

i am one of those people that are prone to random mishaps... you'd think someone that has been dancing for most of their lives would have the grace associated with gliding freely throughout the world without food disasters and the like, but i am just not one of those people. we all know about my ongoing battle with yogurt containers (especially when it's a pink yogurt)... but i'm bringing this up because my morning latte is sitting between my arms as i type this, and i'm forgetting what it was that i was going to say, because i'm convinced that at any moment, one wrist will have a spasm, and i will have spilled this latte all over myself. i mean, i'm wearing beiges and khakis today, but a brown lap stain probably wouldn't pull the ensem together, if you know what i'm saying.

i need hand lotion... hold please.

ah much better. what is it about the soap in public restrooms that just wants to strip the flesh off of your body? moving on.

my whole point of today's entry... regardless of how high and mighty a person might feel (and mind you, i very rarely have grandious notions of excellence about myself... due to the aforementioned battle with yogurt containers) there are instances in life that remind us that we are, in fact, fallible... and aren't as ego-worthy as we might expect ourselves to be (not me, mind you... but some people).

here are my examples for today:

1. the end of the deodorant stick. no matter how graceful you are trying to be, the mini sliver that is left is going to make you feel ridiculous as you try to apply even the thinnest of layers. you lean over slightly to help with the application, you might use part of a finger to keep the sliver on the stick, you might use a finger to smear the actual deod onto your body (i haven't done this yet but i've heard other people speak of resorting to this method), or you simply place your armpit over the stick and sort of smash it up in there, cutting yourself with the plastic of the container... and hope for the best. at any given moment, there is a 97% chance that the sliver is going to fall off the stick and land on the floor. and b/c it's just you in the bathroom, and you'll be the only person to know, you scoop the sliver back off of the floor, try and balance it back on the top of the stick, pull off any unassuming pieces of lint or hair from the floor, and attempt steps one through twelve again. either way... i'm STILL left feeling completely inadequate as i will myself to remember to buy more deodorant during my lunch break today. will i? probably not.

2. lately i have been fighting with my watch. well not exactly fighting... but we've definitely been having some sort of misunderstanding. for no reason whatsoever, it will suddenly be 45 minutes slow. this is not some sort of 'and so it was that a wristwatch saved harold crick' moment... although if i suddenly start hearing emma thompson narrate my life... actually what i was about to say wasn't even true. i was GOING to say that i'd freak out, but really, i'd be beyond ecstatic. how could i not? i adore emma thompson. anyway, my watch battery is fine, and i don't feel like i'm snagging the winding mechanism on anything, but i think it's interesting that i only notice that my watch is off after 45 minutes. no more... no less.

i had more to say... but i've just spent the last ten minutes listening to people babble at each other in my office as they wait to go into a meeting in another room. and have subsequently lost my train of thought.

this latte is delicious though... and i'm craving some yogurt.

i don't care what you do, just please stop showing me the lipstick...

my roommate's dog has a crush on me. his name is eden (yes i know), and he's a chihuahuahuhauhauaha (or however the hell you spell that horrendous word).
he whimpers, he shakes uncontrollably, and he twirls around in fast little circles when he thinks that someone is about to give him attention.

he also (though i have no idea why) gets visibly "excited" anytime i get near him. it completely (and i mean completely) grosses me out. for some reason, i've managed to avoid the oddities that go along with having male dogs (being mostly a cat owner), so i was ill-prepared for what this dog would do to me.

apparently he's never been neutered, so he humps other people's feet... but not me... he tries to lick my feet and then show me the lipstick. FOUL.

my roommate was out of town for about ten days a little bit ago, and i was trying really hard to be nice to the dog, and give him little pets on the head, etc... and one saturday afternoon, upon realizing that i'd been ignoring the dog for many many hours, i decided to allow the dog into my room and up onto my bed while i relaxed and watched a movie.

he seemed to be quieting down and watching the movie as well, until i looked down to see him going to town on himself with the biggest boner i've ever seen on a dog. i'm pretty sure that my neighbors thought i was being attacked due to the yelp that i screamed, but i threw the dog down the hall and immediately went into the bathroom to wash my hands... twice.

seriously. why does this creep me out so much? now i really can't go anywhere near the dog. i keep peeking to see if the lipstick is out...and when i'm around... oh it's out baby.

anyone else?? or is it just me?

a date with myself and other tidbits of "business"

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.

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.

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.