Last night, I was feeling chatty. I had all sorts of random things I was going to blog about.
TypePad, however, decided they were going to be cold and unfeeling and keep saying, "NAH NAH NAH, I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
Here, dear and gentle readers, is what I wrote. Into Word. And copied and pasted.
TypePad, you bitch. The next time you walk out on me in the middle of a heartfelt conversation like that, we are through, baby.
Or well, we are through when that month's paid subscription is up at the very least.
Random Thoughts
It’s Not The Heat, It’s The Stupidity
It’s been very humid this week here in lovely Southeastern Michigan. Since I live in a Soviet-like house, we have no central air, no air conditioning. (Once again, I am missing my bigger house with nicer amenities, like a dishwasher who is not named Lisa. The dishwasher in the old house was named Kenmore. It was electric and had different settings. The Lisa model has one setting: as hot as you can stand with lots of Ajax Lemon dish detergent, a teaspoon of bleach and rubber gloves. Rinse twice.) We have ceiling fans and some trees that provide some shade to the house but make me nervous because they are close to the house and you know, thunderstorms and lightning, mature tree situated over my bedroom.
I have sinus issues and although I love the heat and hot weather, the humidity makes me lethargic and stuffy and gives me awful headaches. I popped three Excedrin Migraine pills this afternoon, which at least put a dent in the headache but not a whole lot. I don’t want to take any more since it’s got a lot of caffeine in it and will just increase my insomnia so not only will my head hurt, I will be twitching and fighting my blankets all night as well. I’d trade my beloved Bennie Dog for some Fiornal about now. (NOTE: not worth trading children or shoes, but the dog could go. Probably. Because he’s high strung and a Mamma’s boy and you’d probably bring him back, even though he is really cute. )
Long Long Ago, In A Land A Far Far Away
I used to work for a computer company in Allentown, PA. Every three months, we used to get a free day off, called a Mental Health Day. These were not included in the three paid sick days we got per year, nor the vacation days we earned. These were strictly days that at the beginning of the quarter, your manager would hand you a slip and tell you, "This is your paid mental health day." They were also always a Monday or a Friday. How cool was that? I could surely use a Mental Health Day lately. Work has been stressing me, I have things I want to accomplish at home and there just doesn't seem to be enough hours during the weekend that I really want to expend a lot of energy doing hard work on. Week-ends are for taking advantage of PTH (Prime Tanning Hours) and reading a juicy true crime book.
Turning Forty
Fifteen days until doomsday. How am I feeling? I’m not quite sure. I am having some work angst right now, I can feel my shoulders going up around my ears at work a lot lately. This has nothing to do with my co-workers (well, only a little since I work with all men and like my husband, they are convinced I hide things on them when I am only putting them where they belong.) I am suddenly feeling a huge nesting syndrome, I want my house to be picture perfect, as much as my Soviet-like house can be. I’ve had my ups and downs with OCD cleanliness but mostly when I was pregnant and then when I was married to the last ex; he was an ass, my parents were both sick and I felt that having a perfect living space was one of the few things I had control over. At least I didn't stick my finger down my throat, right? This like that, but I want my poop in a group. More importantly, what the hell am I going to wear? Party in my-laws lovely English-like backyard. End of July (read: hot and probably humid). I don’t expect my guests to dress up but I am the BirthDay Hag. I should at least put on something other than a Ramones or Big Audio Dynamite Tee Shirt and a pair of shorts, right? If I’m turning 40, I want to at least look pretty. So someone, dear and gentle readers, either send me a cool and casual black dress (I wear a six or an eight and have a mother in law who sees something not fitting me properly and makes it fit because she may be batshit crazy with Alzheimer's but she still can sew and likes to see things that fit properly, God Bless Her) or make suggestions. I have cool shoes, not to worry.
Reading
I sloughed through Symptoms Of Withdrawal by Christopher Kennedy Lawford. He’s cute, not a bad writer, but I can’t help but feeling he was capitalizing on his name writing this book. He was a major fuck-up for a long time. His life was fairly predictable when you are a Kennedy and your parents pawn you off on nannies and basically don’t take a day to day interest in your life. Not a bad book, I’m just not feeling very charitable right now.
And The Sea Will Tell, by Vincent Bugliosi. The prosecuting attorney who tried the Manson case and wrote Helter Skelter. He’s a good attorney, don’t get me wrong, but his writing is totally pompous and annoying. It’s a good story but he really needs to throw away his thesaurus, get off the legalese prose and just tell it like it is.
Holidays On Ice by David Sedaris. I love David Sedaris. I’ve read this little book before and it never fails to make me laugh to the point of snorting whatever beverage I am drinking out of my nose.
The Mole Check
I have at least three friends who are coming to the big 40th angst fest who are convinced I tan too much and are going to do mole checks. Relax, people. I have Mediterranean blood. I tan easily. I don’t burn. I’ve never had any strange skin things. I bathe in moisturizer in the morning and at night, all over. In my obsessive ADHD way, I am especially fussy about my face and I’m religious (as much as I am about anything, eh) about my face. Yeah, I know I have a few smoker’s wrinkles and yeah, it’s bad for me. Ya’all just get on with it. I had breast cancer, granted only stage one or two depending on which doctor you ask but I’m fine with the skin thing. Really . It’s that Dago thing.
Now, dear and gentle readers. TypePad has been down for umptee umpty hours and is this the longest personal post I’ve ever written or what?
Edited to add: Day Late, eh? And sorry to anyone who made comments and they weren't posted. I tried but TypePad was pissed at me and we were on the verge of breaking up. So, MichiganRepublican Whatever, your comments are posted, finally. Even though you really really dissed me on your comment section way back. Or one of your commentors did and called me a moron. You thought that was acceptable, apparently. Giddiup. You forgot, I didn't.
Wow, Lisa, you sure did talk a blue streak! I guess I was a little apprehensive about turning 40 myself. It really wasn't such a big deal after all.
I feel a lot smarter, and feel pretty good about myself for an old broad.
No matter how many birthdays you have, you'll continue to be one of the most fabulous people in the universe.
Posted by: Nadine | July 14, 2006 at 12:10 AM
You overcame the posting challenge well - but our timing certainly was off. Yes, I was feeling chatty too but was foiled at every turn. Thanks for saying at least in part what I was thinking.
Posted by: Susan Reynolds | July 14, 2006 at 12:17 AM
15 days to go and she has called the whole thing off twice! I keep asking "how many people?", and she keeps saying "none!" "Its all off! I'm not doing it!". "Your parents don't want to have it, I'm not too sure about anything!"...
Ok, Lisa... get a grip, I only asked how many people... that's all I asked... be calm, just answer my question, please...
TY
- Martin
Posted by: Martin | July 14, 2006 at 04:06 AM
Can anyone say "Crisis"? Does anyone know someone that can help Lisa out just a little with something she can smoke for the next week or two that might calm her down? Anyone? Anyone? Please... Anyone?
- Martin
Posted by: Martin | July 16, 2006 at 06:47 AM
Back in 10th grade, Tammy and I were watching television and saw something that said nutmeg is an hallucinagen. We didn't even say a word, just immediately went to the kitchen and grabbed the nutmeg. Tammy still swears she saw little pink creatures jumping around the room. So if necessary, you can roll her up some nutmeg and give it a go.
Posted by: Darr | July 17, 2006 at 12:25 AM
Nope, the nutmeg doesn't work. Don and I tried that years ago too! HAHAHAHA!
- Martin
Posted by: Martin | July 18, 2006 at 11:44 PM