Should Have Stayed Home

This is an actual conversation I had with a man I was stupid enough to have drinks with.

Him- "Wait, how old are you?"
Me- "I'm 32"
Him- "I thought you said you were 42?"
Me- "Um NO. Do I look like I'm fucking 42??"
Him- "Uh....er....Uh, I donno."
Me- "I have to go now."


Don't get me wrong, there is not a damn thing wrong with being or looking 42, when you're in your 40's!! But come on, even on my absolute worst, hungover, slept 2 hours, still wearing last nights makeup, days I don't look a day over 37. The kicker, he's 13 years older than me. Maybe he's senile, yes?

On the bright side my girlfriends found this HI-larious. I, on the not so bright side, I am still pissed.

Seriously. Pissed.

The Future Of America

Today I had the misfortune of driving down a street with a school on it. From what I can gather 2 out of 3 streets in Vegas have schools on them. Apparently school was letting out and as I crept along at 15 fucking MPH ,as the flashy signs instructed me to do, watching our country's future doctor's, teachers and (not surprisingly) a large amount of future inmates, clad in skinny jeans and pants so low they have to walk bowlegged to keep them from falling down (brilliant) I had a few thoughts.

1- 15 MPH?? Really? Did I mention this school was a high school? In my opinion if these kids are too stupid to cross the street without it being necessary to slow traffic down to a crawl by the time they are in high school, well to hell with them. It's called survival of the fittest bitches, and by plowing down the slow stupid ones, I'm helping the natural balance of things by thinning out the herd. And yes, that's exactly what I plan on telling the police.

2- If these fools are our future, we're screwed.

3- Judging by the above thoughts I am really old (and kind of a bitch). Time to mix up a nice tall glass of Metamucil, slip on a housecoat and flip through the TV Guide to find a rerun of Murder She Wrote.

4- I've heard and read some things about kids and eating disorders. About how everything from Hollywood, models and even Barbie is causing our youth to have poor body image and in turn they're developing eating disorders. I'm unsure of where all these anorexic kids are, not at this particular school for sure. You know why I think our youth has poor body image? Because the majority of them are fat as hell. Tip to America's future gastric bypass patients: put down the remote, hoist your big ass off the couch and move. Preferably in the opposite direction of the kitchen.

5-Why is our nation's capitol called the District of Columbia?

That last one doesn't have anything to do with the rest of this post but I've never received an answer to this question I've deemed acceptable.

As True Today As It Was At Age 7

To this day, most mornings when my alarm goes off this poem floats through my sleepy brain. Of course I replace 'school' with 'work', because I'm a grown up.

Sick

'I cannot go to school today,'
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
'I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut-my eyes are blue-It might be Instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb.
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is...Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play! '





Shel Silverstein

Boo Hoo

Get ready for a whiny post because everything is poo. If feeling sorry for yourself was a sport, I'd be MVP hands down. At the very least I feel self pity should be considered a hobby, that way I'd have an "interest" other than eating and alcoholism. Below is a list of my biggest complaints.

#1- I'm so fucking sick of being broke. It's acceptable when you're in your 20's, maybe even a right of passage of sorts, but it's just plain pathetic when you're 32. It's no longer socially acceptable to turn down the rare invitations I get to leave the house because I'm broke. I think my friends are as sick of hearing it as I am of saying it.


#2- I hate living in an apartment. Mostly I hate the noisy bitch that lives above me. I simply cannot fathom how someone can make so much noise. Does she fall down repeatedly?? Did she just drop a bowling ball, again?? Does she have a goddamn aerobic studio up there?? Not likely judging by her fat ass. It makes me into an angr(ier) person. Also my disdain for human interaction makes leaving my apartment an unpleasant experience. Half the time I cannot walk the 15 fucking feet to my car without running into another person. Don't even get me started on the mail room. What is really sad is that despite the fact they are practically giving houses away in Vegas, according to 2 different lenders, I am still too poor to buy one. Even sadder still, the mortgage on a house that I'd want, would be less than I'm paying in rent. Go figure.


#3- No social life. I don't have enough friends and certainly no man-friend to speak of. Truly my best friend is my dog and I spend the majority of my time with him. Unfortunately he is not the pocket dog variety therefore I am unable to visit public places with him like one might do with an actual human companion. Also he's not much of a conversationalist and he stinks.

After much pondering I've come up with a few conclusions.


#1- I am just completely sick of my life but lack the drive to do anything about it (other than complain.) Very pro-active, I know.

#2- They say money doesn't buy happiness but I think "they" were rich and just said that to keep us poor folks from rioting. Money may not buy happiness but what it does buy is peace of mind in the form of health insurance, food, shelter, some foreseeable way to retire before death. It also buys some pleasures in life like shoes and clothes (I said it, I'm sad because I don't have enough goddamn shoes and cute outfits) a vacation every once in a blue moon or maybe just a meal that doesn't come from a box.

#3- I have no one to blame but myself for all my problems. New tricks are hard for this old dog though, so I suppose it's put up or shut up and I've chosen to shut up. For now at least.

99 Thanks To 99 Cent Only Stores

Holly shit I love the dollar store. Ahem... I mean the 99 cent store. Not only because it's one of the only stores I can afford to purchase more that 5 items at any given time. And not even because in their ad's they actully put the the 99 cent condoms and the 99 cent pregnancy tests right next to each other without even batting an eye.

NICE!!!

Truth be told I do quite a bit of my grocery shopping there. Don't judge me, I make less than most paper boys. I do draw the line at certain items however, and condoms certainly top that list, I may be terminally broke but I am more than happy to pay full price for my conterceptives thank you very much.

I usually go to the 99 Cent Only store on Sunday's and I've noticed a lot of people who are obviously coming from or going to church. This strikes me a bit odd. Mostly I think if I was good little church goer and still so broke I had to shop at the 99 Cent store I'd be pissed!! I mean what's the point of sucking up to God if your life still sucks? And believe me, if you are shopping the the 99 Cent store, there's about a 99% chance your life blows. I figure I deserve my 99 come-upins, being a sinner and non believer and all, but I sure feel for those poor folks giving their time and thything to their church and not getting 99 thanks from God.

VD Disaster

So this post is kind of post disaster, but I needed the time to heal. I made that last part up. So I'm single and all, and have been for about a year now. I have spent the better part of the last year recovering from the worst relationship of my life to date. I did not make that last part up. So aside from the occasional whoopsie daisy doodle and a couple of lame dates, I've been pretty much on my own.

Therefore I was as surprised as the next person to find myself with a date for the big VD extravaganza. No this is not a convention in Vegas for the "Adult Film Industry." This is a post post, I'm referring to Valentines Day. It actually happened by accident, but I was pleased for 2 reasons. First it would be the first Saturday in I don't know how long that I haven't spent the night with a bottle of cheap wine, a remote and my dog. Second, I've had a date on Valentine's day every year since I've moved to Vegas and have been using that fact to block out the decade (or 2) living in Utah when the VD's spent with a loved one were becoming fewer and more far between as the years went by. Late 20's+non Mormon= Sad and alone.

It all started on Super Bowl Sunday. Apparently this is a big deal to some, mostly I enjoy appetizers and booze, so count me in. I can always drink enough to actually find football somewhat interesting or block it out all together. So when my friend Jamie invited me to a Super Bowl party I was happy to tag along. She had mentioned prior to the party that she had a client who she thought I might click with and that he could possibly be there, sure enough he was, and we did. So we ended up talking the Monday before VD and he asked me out for that Saturday. He had no idea it was the big lovers holiday but wasn't fazed by the fact when I informed him (I figured I should fill him in just in case he was married or something, boy would his wife be pissed if she was alone on VD.)

So we went out. I looked good, avoided doing or saying anything too vulgar. All in all totally on me best big girl behavior. We had a great meal, good conversation. He talked a lot. Cool, takes the pressure off me. We drank good wine. Then we went to a casino to see his coworkers band play. It was a good time. He looked at me adoringly. He held my hand. He mentioned possible future outings. And then........ Nothing. Never heard from him. And considering it's been a month now, I'm pretty certain I won't. I was in total shock, most people at least get to know me before they hate me!! The thing that bothers me a bit (besides the slight bruise to the ego, he didn't like me?? ME??) is that I consider myself fairly good at gauging peoples reactions to me. Obviously, at least in this case, I was pretty off. It's like when you're sure you nailed a job interview and then don't get a call back. Either way, I'm not securing a position in which I wish receive monetary compensation for services rendered. Wait, what? That's just wrong.

In the end though, It's probably really okay. Really. Because on some level I was trying to like this guy because he seemed like the type of guy I should like (employed, no random kids or ex/current wife's/baby mama's, no obvious addictions or recent incarcerations) In other words the polar opposite of my last boyfriend. I keep trying to change the type of men I'm attracted to but seem to find this challenging (made more so by the fact that THEY DON'T CALL ME AGAIN) so I suppose I'm destined to either end up alone or in a trailer park surrounded by empty beer cans, cigarette butts and despair. Bummer, I don't even smoke. But I suppose you can't force things if they aren't there, and truthfully I wasn't totally into this guy.

Unless he calls again. Then I just KNEW we were meant to be.

MIA

So I haven't written in a while, not that I'm delusional enough to think anyone reads this and has missed me, but thought I'd put it out there anyway. I titled this post MIA, I have been missing from my blog (although is it like the tree falling in the woods thing? If there is no one here to read this was I really missing??) Anyhoo, though the missing thing may or may not be true, the "in action" portion is totally false. I really need a life, but on the rare occasion an opportunity presents its self to be social, I usually decide to hide away at home instead. With the blinds drawn. Under the bed. This is not normal? The only reason I suspect this is not how most people live is because the characters on TV whom I live vicariously through seem to have friends and go places. Hmm. Interesting concept, but not for everyone I suppose.

So other than hiding from society, I've also had to work some temp jobs in a vain attempt to make ends meet. Temp jobs suck for a few reasons. First it's really hard to be the new kid over and over. I'm terrible with names and apparently so was one of the ladies I worked with who insisted on just addressing me as "temp." I don't even think the "t" in "temp" deserved to be capitalized. Sad. I'm tempted to refer to people by their physical or character attributes/flaws as my way of combating my inability to recall peoples names. Example: "Dave" or whatever his name is would be Stinky Guy Who Stares At My Chest. "Sally" is Lady Who Hasn't Fit In That Size Since The 80's When Those Pants Must Have Been Purchased Because I Haven't Seen Them In A Store Since "Thriller" Was Released". Let's not forget "Jen" who would be "That Fucking Bitch Who Keeps Calling Me Temp." You get the point. I've found it doesn't go over very well unless you happend to be "Trisha" who was "Totally Beautiful Girl Who I Wish I Was And Even Though I'm Straight I Would Almost Sleep With Because She's Just That Hot." She kinda looked at me weird but we got along just fine.

Alas it looks as though my temp job woes have been solved though because my former HR director and all around KICK ASS gal called and offered me my old job back. Yahoo! My job now pays $2 less than I was making when I left. Boohoo. So I sold out (except not really because I think when you sell out you actually MAKE money) I guess I gave in. They did me wrong and instead of being remorseful they financially bitch slapped me and I took it with a smile on my face like any good bitch would. But I did it because I like the people I work with. I am comfortable in my position. They provide tons of free food (yes I think the grocery money would be better applied to my check, but hey I enjoy a Rice Crispy Treat like everyone else.) And I am 7 minutes, 7 MINUTES from home. So I'm back, with an outwardly positive attitude and a inwardly desire to burn the place down. But at the end of the day does it really matter that the receptionist had to take a pay cut as long as the CEO and VP still make a large 6 figures? I think not. All is indeed right with the world.