Monday Listing: Weekend Update
Monday, July 31, 2006
Movies watched
The Aristocrats
The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio
(all were surprisingly awful)

Loads of laundry washed

Attempts at Self-Portrait, done out of sheer boredom

Tolerable photos achieved

Number of dog vomiting episodes

Number of canine hospital visits

Dollars spent paying for emergency vet services

Hours spent staring at dog, waiting for him to die or something
Approximately 22

Witness the strange cocktail of frustration and boredom on my face.

I have no idea what the hell I was trying to do - especially with the awful lighting. This is what happens when it's 400 degrees outside, and I'm left to my own devices in a poorly air-conditioned apartment (with only one clean tank top left).

Strange Brew
Friday, July 28, 2006
The past couple weeks have been strange, and I can't put my finger on an explanation. I've never had a need for medication of the anti-anxiety/anti-depression type and kind, but this week has proven to me that I can very much empathize with those folks who rely daily on the stability of those medications.

I'm living amongst boxes (my own doing, really) and I don't move for another 5 weeks. In preparation for said move, I'm attempting to curb my spending across the board. Those who know me well realize how difficult this is for me, as I am wont to "flexible" budgeting and all manners of justification when it comes to buying things. I'm trying, I really am. Those who criticize my financial decision have no concept of how difficult this stuff is for me.

Wahhhh, waaaaah. Somebody call the WAAAAH-mbulance. Get it together, Jamie.

Sean leaves tomorrow for a 2-week business trip to India - a considerable blip in the routine of my life (and his, no doubt). In this time, I feel as if I'm offered the chance to recoup, lick my wounds, and get my ass in gear. Not that his presence keeps me from doing these things normally, but there is something healing about isolation and introspection.

Even the dog seems to know something is wrong. In the middle of Project Runway last night, I realized my lap was empty, and went to investigate. (In a 607 square foot apartment, this doesn't take long) I found him lying pathetically in his bed, surrounded by his favorite purple, security blanket.

If his bed wasn't coated in dog hair tumbleweeds, and sturdy enough to hold my weight, I would have curled up right alongside of him.

Time to snap out of it. Have a great weekend, everyone.

It's a Mystery to Me
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Riddle me this: If your fiancee was caught in flagrante delicto with an old, potbellied man WHO WASN'T YOU, would you still marry him?

If you answered yes, you're not alone.


When Abel glances over his shoulder, he sees his father knee-deep in the stubble field. The blanket of smoke, thinner than wool but denser than stone, is already obscuring him. In the other direction, Cain is a thin silhouette against the green prairie, making for the hills. Walking fast from the look of it, as if he has a destination in mind. As if he knows where he is going.

Call of the Sirens
Monday, July 24, 2006
Can you hear it?

This weekend, I spent some time in the outer suburbs visiting with my sister and her family. While I love hanging out with her, and I think her children are some of the cutest beings on the planet, being out there sometimes makes me a little sad.

We had a nice little Saturday planned - Bed, Bath & Beyond, Home Depot...just kidding. First stop? Parent-n-Tot gymnastics for my niece. In my mind, I imagined this would be somewhat like that scene from Baby Boom where poor J.C. Wiatt is standing in line to put her baby on the rings (and release!) and backs away in terror. You know, because I'm sure those facilities exist, where babies are all lined up, swinging from gymnastic rings. And what the hell was up with those matching grey sweatsuits?! She looked totally washed out.

Oh my God, focus Jamie.

The class was hilarious, the kids were adorable (including the little fireball that kept running away and jumping into the pit of foam blocks, never to be found again), and I'm pretty sure the instructor had a big, fat cocktail afterwards. I sure as shit would have.

Then we headed back to their house to see the annual village parade. Before it began, Bri claimed it was too bright outside (as part of a larger tantrum) so I gave her my sunglasses to wear. Nicole Richie, eat your heart out!

A few fire trucks, some politicians, municipal pageant winners, and far flung Laffy Taffys later, it was over. It was pretty cute, actually. The police cars were black and white Volkswagen Bugs. I imagined them raiding a crack house, and seeing SWAT forces pour out of these Bugs, like a clown car. They had floodlights, sirens, and everything. Maybe the battering ram roof rack is an upgrade?

I'm no genius, but I'm pretty sure the Geek Squad doesn't arrive armed with nightsticks and mace.

Then it was off to the area shopping mall to do suburban things, like comparison shop for vacuums. (I need to get one for my next apartment - black dog, white carpet! A recipe for hairy disaster!) I found the one I want, and now just have to come up with about a MILLION MORE DOLLARS because I DAMN, I am a picky vacuum consumer. You don't live amongst the tumbleweeds of black dog hair, so just shut up already.

There is something innately comforting to me about the suburbs. You can get to anything you need in less than 15 minutes. Your car is waiting for you, covered(!!!) right next to your living quarters - not in a lot somewhere, maybe a couple blocks away, maybe covered in snow and ice and in need of a 30-minute scrape. Things are cheaper in the suburbs - guns, butter, petroleum, Twizzlers, all the staples of life, really. It was almost enough to have me second guessing my decision to buy in the city. In the city, a "milk and eggs" run might take upwards of 45 minutes (not to mention the mental planning). In the suburbs, 10 minutes tops. And no worries about parking.

It's enough to make a girl go crazy, I tell you. I'm not one of those snobs who shuns the suburbs - I like my city life, too...but I gotta be honest. I'm starting to really get strong cravings for fenced backyards (a backyard of any kind, really), free parking, and strip malls.

Is that wrong?

Thursday, July 20, 2006
I'm not really a fan of the show, but I thought it would be fun to create "myself" as a South Park character.

In my own defense, I had no idea how ugly I would be.

Click Here to make your own.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006
As I stacked everything as I found it, a harsh urgent pulse of tears rushed forward with no release, sensation without substance. I remembered the last letter I wrote to Andrew, propped on my vanity, his name written on the sealed envelope. Nearby was the package I meant to send to Twolly. And tucked against the parcel, still in its box, the ring I left behind.

SUCH an interesting book. I recommend it to anyone who enjoys Jodi Picoult, Elizabeth Berg, and/or Alice Sebold.

Just thinking about this makes my forehead throb
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Friday before last, I jumped a Metra train to Joliet. I was meeting up with Sean, who had taken the car out to the burbs earlier in the day, and was picking me up so that we could drive directly to the track to see qualifying. I popped out of my building at 12:58 pm (gotta love summer hours at work), and hailed the first cab that came into view.

5 blocks later, I was holding my head in my hands and speaking with city police. The cab had hit (and been hit) sideways by another cab who cut him off. Instead of braking to avoid the impact, my cabbie just drove on through. I was wondering who would win the game of "chicken" when we collided. My seatbelt failed to lock up, and I pitched forward and slammed my head into the plexiglass partition.

Ummm, ouch?!

The cabbie didn't seem phased. He said coolly to me, "These things happen."

In my eagerness to make my train, I rushed through conversations with the police that arrived onsite, assured them that I wasn't going to press charges, and convinced them that I was fit to leave the scene of the accident.

The authorities work pretty quickly when the crash is blocking 3 lanes of Michigan Avenue, and the weekend tourists are starting to gather and take photos.

Other than a super intense headache that followed me into dinnertime, I make it out of the incident unscathed. But if you ever see a cabbie (if that a-hole actually manages to get his license back) with tacky, blue-shaded, fake Oakleys and a very thick, eastern european accent...find another cab.

Damn You, Blogger!
Monday, July 17, 2006
I have my full nascar recap post ready to go, but stupid blogger (shakes fists and looks to the sky) won't let me post any photos.

More later...

To Do This Weekend
Friday, July 14, 2006
Purchase anti-humidity hair products. Stat.

This is what happens to my hair on a typical summer day. Instant Whitesnake video (minus the diaphanous white dress and slutty demeanor, of course)

Seriously. What the hell?!

Love / Hate
Thursday, July 13, 2006

1. The contemporary routine that Allison and Ivan performed on So You Think You can Dance. I just happened upon it last night, and it was beautiful. It took my breath away.

2. Hash browns from McDonald's.

3. YouTube

4. It's back, it's back! (jumping up and down, clapping hands) Project Runway is back!

5. The way Doc's ears are softest in the morning, when he snuggles up next to me in bed (just before he pounces on my ribcage and barks in my face to announce that he'd like to eat breakfast).


1. Cheesecake. Blecch!

2. My inability to wake up on time.

3. Cellulite.

4. Crabby commuters who try to police the other bus patrons, telling certain people to move back, and deciding who is/is not old/decrepit/handicapped enough to get a priority seat in the front.

5. Bunions.

Insult upon Injury
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
When I picked up the phone, you sounded like a telemarketer so I rolled my eyes. As I was drawing breath to request that I be permanently taken off your call registers, you informed me of who you were. After 4-1/2 years, you just up and call me one day to tell me you're nearby and that you want to hang out?


The sound of your voice grates on my nerves as I try to find out what the hell you want from me. I thought maybe you were calling to "make amends" as part of some multi-step recovery program for drugs and alcohol. I thought I would give you a couple minutes to blabber on before you said what you had called to say. That is the last time I will ever give you the benefit of the doubt. You became defensive and seemed surprised that I would still be angry with you. You didn't feel that you'd wronged me, which is a clear indication that you are still as delusional NOW as you were when we were dating. Any blanket apologies that you made during that phone call were not only insincere, but unnecessary, insulting, and (now) completely irrelevant to my life.

I completely lost my shit on the phone, and I'm madder than hell about it. Now, YEARS LATER, those feelings of being hurt, being cheated on, being leaned on and then tossed callously aside -- they're still fresh in my mind, and more overwhelming than you could ever imagine. They remind me of times of low self-esteem, times of weakness, bad decisions that I made, and things I regret. HOW DARE YOU call me up and expect me to let you back into my life, on ANY level?! I wrote you off for many reasons - the primary one being that I no longer viewed you a value-add to my life. Not surprisingly, this is something that we (apparently) don't agree on. Why would I ever want to start up a friendship with you? The chief lesson I learned from our miserable, rollercoaster of a relationship was to stand up for myself, and defend my needs. So I'm going to do just that, right now.

Yes, your philosophical leanings and ridiculous, pseudo-profound, rhetorical questions about the meaning of life still annoy the everloving shit out of me.

No, I don't want your home phone number.

Yes, you broke my heart.

No, I don't want to be friends with you.

Yes, I'm glad you've found the Lord. Go talk to him - he's probably the only mutual friend we will ever have.

No, I'm not judging you because you used to have a serious drug problem.

Yes, I think our relationship was a valuable learning experience.

No, I won't be your crutch anymore.

I don't need friends like you, and I won't feel guilty because you claim I'm one of the people you feel you can trust in this life. Hollow words from a selfish boy. I have wonderful friends who would never intentionally hurt me, break me down, or expect something from me that I cannot give. I have an amazing boyfriend - a REAL man who respects me, loves me, and makes me laugh at least once every day.

I don't need you anymore. Don't ever call me again.

Monday, July 10, 2006
Until I can craft a proper posting about this weekend, a short list will have to suffice -

The Weekend, In Short

- Jimmie Johnson fans appear to all be somewhat overweight, and predominantly female. Hmmm.

- Matt Kenseth was robbed of his win by THAT A$$HOLE P**CK who drives for DuPont whose name I don't even want to mention. Luckily, the fans agreed and threw their trash onto the track in an effort to communicate their displeasure. OH, how I love thee, Midwestern NASCAR fans.

- Many Beers + Denim Skirt + Weather hotter than Satan's scrotum = great difficulty finding a place to lay down in the stands before I pass out

And this woman who stood up every. single. lap. to wave a Dale Earnhardt Jr. bandanna as he drove by, screaming at the top of her lungs.

Forgive the quality of the photo - I spent the entire weekend alternately loathing that I hadn't brought my camera, and patting myself on the back for not having something else to carry and pay attention to.

More later...

She may be barefoot, but I'm the NASCAR fan
Friday, July 07, 2006
Isn't life ironic? The photo below was taken in (I'm guessing here) 1980, on the front porch of our house in Downers Grove. You'd never guess that the sweet-looking, fresh-faced towhead and the roly-poly, precocious redhead would spend the next 16 years accusing each other of stealing -- clothing, jewelry, even socks. Thank God we actually like each other now, or we'd both be very, very tired women.

I'm leaving on a train this afternoon to meet up with Sean in Joliet for this weekend's NASCAR festivities (hold all laughter until the end of the post, please). Bring on the tailgating, drinking, and general diet bending behavior!

Back on Monday...

Call to Action
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Attention Peanut Gallery!

I have writers block. Which I can't really even justify, as I am not technically a writer. So let's just call it blogger's block and move on, shall we?

I know that there are more of you readers out there, than the ones that regularly comment. I've begged you to delurk before, and I'm going to do it again -- mostly b/c I love meeting new people, and because I have nothing good to blog about right now.

You are going to do my work for me...ready? Leave the following information in the comments section, or else. (idea stolen from Sundry who stole it from Tall-n-Lucky)

1. Who do you live with?
2. What are some of the things you do at work (”work” includes managing households and raising children, of course)?
3. What are you proud of?
4. What are five things you love, and five things you hate?

I especially want to hear from new readers, but those tried-n-true commenters are required to participate as well. Hup to, get a move on, let's go!

This is why I need a computer at home...
I wanted to wish a Happy [Belated] Birthday to my dear friend Barbara! Her birthday was the 3rd, but I don't have a computer and couldn't post to announce it. She is one of those amazing people that can stand in a room full of strangers at 5pm, and leave at midnight with 5 new friends. Her laugh is completely contagious, and since we don't work together anymore, I miss her hilarious stories and keen observations more than ever.

Hopefully it was a great one, Babs. Love ya!