Recent pic

Just thought it was time for a recent picture. Here's Mike and I at Mimosa on Valentine's Day. There was another wall right behind me so it was nice having our own little nook.

Besides, it was time to rid my camera from pictures going back to a few weeks before Christmas for the all important Atlantic City Classic Car Show this weekend.

Two Shockers

Remember when NBC or ABC or whatever channel it was got fined for that commercial when a presumably naked lady jumped into T.O.'s arms? I don't recall seeing any crack. You?

Last night I was watching Project Runway at 10:00 on Bravo like I do every Wednesday at 10:00. I saw crack! Three times! In a commercial for I have no idea.

The commercial starts with a presumably naked blonde standing with her back to the cameras gazing into her closet. I immediately thought, wow, they are showing a lot of her back. Then she leans forward to examine an article of clothing and CRACK!!!! I could not believe it. This is a commercial!

She then goes back to her regular stance and you see her walk around her room. There it is again clear as day. Then Dave, my faithful Project Runway buddy comes back down from a commercial pee and I say, "Are butt cracks allowed in commercials?"

"I don't think so." He sits back down.

Then blonde crack revealing commercial lady decides nothing is suitable for the party so she goes naked and the camera follows her back into a crowded living room full of guests and she then jumps into her husband's arms and in case you missed it the first two times, one more shot of her butt crack.

"Holy shit," says David.

I can't for the life of me remember what the commercial was for but it was strange.

Disturbance #2

Mike and I got McDonald's after a night of drinking over the weekend and we thought it would be ok since we haven't had it in months. I decided to go with the cheeseburger kids meal just to play it safe.

I received a Spyro handheld video game which I finally figured out how to turn on and play last night. Why did it take me so long, you ask? Because my directions only came in spanish.

It wasn't even like maybe they just forgot to print the other side or something. It was a little plastic game that had a lid or cover and you had to open it to see the game screen. When opened, the top or underside of the cover had the directions. Only spanish.

I was upset over that. One, I had just ordered a happy meal and gotten a free toy so was a little excited and feeling a bit child-like. Very different from childish. I would be crushed if my son opened his toy all excited and couldn't play with it because the directions were only in spanish. I don't think reading or speaking spanish should be mandatory to play with a toy that probably cost ten cents to make given to children by one of the most profitable and well known corporations in the entire world. Yes, my children will speak another language but it will be the one they decide they want to learn. For now, please, if there's only room for one language on instructions, keep it in english.

Better yet, always make sure there's enough room for English and Spanish. This way, almost everyone can play!

Strange fruit hung back then

I'm around, just super busy.

Book club discussion last night was really great. We read Strange Fruit by Lillian Smith, 1944. A character study of whites and blacks in 1920's Georgia. It was banned all over the place and poor Lillian Smith received death and arson threats all the time. The novel was dubbed the most explosive novel of our time.

I enjoyed the book but was left realizing how naive I am towards specific subjects and history; how little I was taught, how much is kept from us. I had questions like, 'How come your black house servant isn't allowed to sit on your toilet but you have her breast feed your white baby?' I really didn't get it. Nothing made sense.

My book club is a pretty radical bunch. We're all women, all ages (I'm the baby) , 50% white and 50% black, 1 black lesbian, 1 white lesbian. We all really enjoy one another. It was a pretty passionate discussion and it was harder for some than others to discuss the lynching and the inequality and it really blew my mind. I know but I don't know sort of thing.

But the characters were great. I don't know many avid readers so I love the club. Discussing characters and the author's intentions and techniques and of course, the tangents we get on are always good. Last night was our fourth meeting.

Next up is Self-made Man: One Woman's Journey into Manhood and Back by Norah Vincent. Guess what it's about?

Apparently, it's like the real life story of Just One of the Guys. Remember? 80's movie? He had tits. Yeah, you remember.

So it's a new memoir and I'll let you know how it is. Should be fun.

Ok, so I got a new car too but I'm a little stressed about it so I'll post the big I GOT A CAR! post after the dust has settled.

Saint who?

Valentine's Day was just outstanding! Just wanted to let you know. It surpassed all my highest expectations and was a night I will not soon forget. Mike totally surprised me at dinner when he told me again how much he loves me and slid a small box across the table. He had given me a gift earlier so I had no idea. He planned it all out perfectly.

My first ever pair of real white gold earrings.

Dinner was just wonderful, the wine, the cappuccino, the complimentary shots of sambuca afterwards, "Fora the wonderfula couple" as the Italian owner said. We had our own private room in the restaurant.

We just enjoyed each other so much and smiled and laughed and had an amazing time.

As corny as it sounds, it was like a dream.

Run through it

Bed made - Check
Clothes laid out - Check
Dinner Reservations - Check
Gourmet homemade dessert in fridge - Check
Wine chilling - Check
Wonderful man picking me up at work at 4:00 - Check
His gifts ready and strategically placed in bedroom - Check

Happy Valentine's Day!

My job rocks

I went to bed last night at my ususal 10:00 on a work night. I really didn't think schools would be closed today. Frogg said he'd call if they were. Imagine my excitement being woken up at 11:15 to 'Incoming Call: Frogg'.

"Hello"
"Schools closed"
"Oh my God. Really!"
"Yep"
"That is so fuckin' awesome. Thanks, buddy."
"Yep."
Click

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Schools close, my office closes. This is already the second day we've had off for snow. Next Monday we're off too for Presidents' Day! This job rocks!

I'd say we got a foot, give or take a few inches. Couldn't smoke though because my patio was hit by a drift or something. I'd say there was about two feet back there. It never snowed yesterday hence why I thought schools would be open. I'll have work tomorrow I'm sure. It's nice and sunny out but cold.

A most pleasant surprise

I got on the treadmill Friday, slipped my headphones into the jack for my own personal tv and pressed numbers 5 and 4 on my personal remote. Always my first pick, the Food Network. No good today. I pressed the numbers 1 and 6 and was taken back by the giant blue wall crashing before my eyes that years of letting a dream die could still not mistake. Waimea Bay. My heart rate elevated a bit and I hadn't even begun to warm up yet.

I heard no sound so turned up the volume as high as it would go and could only make out the faintest sounds of beautiful melody in the background as I watched footage of Waimea Bay and other famous and almost equally beautiful North Shore surf breaks. I had no idea what I was watching but knew the channel would not be changed.

The melody died down and I realized I was watching a documentary of some sort. For then I was watching original surfing footage from the 1950's. The cars, the longboards, the surfing. I knew this wasn't Endless Summer as I had seen it more times than I could count. Here was Greg Noll, the first man ever to take on Waimea Bay, an old heavyset man in a red Hawaiian shirt, talking about his younger years and his days as a surfing legend.

The documenatry took me through the fear of Waimea Bay, who some claim is where the biggest wave ever ridden lives. Then I saw original footage of a young Greg Noll in his trademark black and white jail striped surf trunks paddle out with a few devoted and equally frightened friends slightly behind him. All this was narrated by present day (at time of documentary in the late nineties I suppose) Greg Noll swearing like he was still a mid twenty reckless fearless adrenaline seeking boy.

I realized finally that I had a smile plastered against my face and my trance was broken by a loud, almost yell. "What channel are you watching?" "16!" I think I may have yelled a bit too loud. "16?" "Yeah!" again probably too loud.

The older gray haired running man on my right must have either caught a glimpse of the beauty I was witnessing only on tv yet again, the footage of his teenage years which may have intrigued him, or maybe, here was just an old surfer man.

We watched together and ran together for I ran better and longer than I ever had on Friday while watching this documentary and I was charged and stoked and feeling good.

The documentary then took us through the Gidget phenomenon and how pre-Gidget and pre Dick Dale, there were several hundred surfers, and post - them both, millions; crowding the beaches and the line-up like children running toward the bell of the ice cream truck. All the 'boys' home from college claiming to be beach bums, all the 'girls' living just to watch their men while they lay in their glamorous two piece suits. The footage was outstanding.

My mom bought me Gidget one day as a complete surprise during my days of surfing obsession. I watched it over and over and over. I've written many a story about this time in my life and one story in particular always jumps out at me. I could write it again right now, probably verbatim, even though it's been tucked away since college. I think it's about time I stop feeling silly about it and send it to my brother to read. I think it will make him smile. His silly little kid sister who always wanted to be like him.

I had completed my 5k but knew I'd be jogging until this documentary had ended. The man next to me also looked like he was going no where.

The gears had switched to Northern California and Mavericks point 20 miles north of San Francisco. Mavericks blew up during my days of surfing obsession and it seemed every Surfer and Surfing magazine, which I loyally subscribed to wanted to do a feature on the point. Fifteen plus foot waves breaking into a few feet of water completely laden with sharp rocks and boulders. Just paddling out was a navigational hazard. It was surfed alone for fifteen years until the lone surfer (whom I forget the name of) finally convinced a few friends to join him.

Some loved it, some hated it. A full wetsuit was required, the water was filthy, and it was dangerous as hell!

Now I remember to this day being thirteen and feeling sad reading about surfing legend Mark Foo's death. I could tell by the present day footage in this documentary that it was made after 1994 and I knew what was coming.

The piece on Mavericks was at least half an hour long. This documentary gave the big wave riding points their due respect and didn't jump around much.

Then, a curious Mark Foo turned up at Mavericks. It was only his second wave of the day.

It's one thing to read about someone's death. Another to actually see the footage of the wipe out that led to his demise. Even another to hear the people there that day talk in soft tones and contorted faces about finding his body and theorizing what happened and even one having felt him struggling under the break but thought it was someone else. I remember feeling sad he didn't die in Hawaii and thinking that was a horrible injustice. But then I was reminded, it was Mark Foo who used to say, "If you want the ultimate thrill, you have to be willing to pay the ultimate price." No, it was not Patrick Swayze in Point Break who dubbed that term contrary to popular belief.

I noticed that the running man and I had slowed down at that point. We were walking. He was well over five miles and I think he was meant to stop at five.

There was some time to relax and due respect and honor was given to the fallen legend and the screen went black and I was startled by the blaring guitar intro of Pearl Jam's Go and we were back on pace now back in Hawaii for a segment on Laird Hamilton.

One thing you gotta love about all surfing movies and documentaries and videos (pornography to the aspiring surfer) THE SOUNDTRACKS!

The old running man took his leave at this point and I was just dying to know what I was watching. I clicked and clicked until I found the preview channel and flicked back and forth between Laird Hamilton (who I was never particulary crazy about. He reminded me of the jock of surfing) and the preview channel. Ah ha! Riding Giants. How could I have let this slip by me?

By the time it was over I had jogged, ran, walked six miles and I was happy. What better way to spend a Friday evening than excercising and watching a killer documentary at the same time.

I am SUCH a LOSER

So some colleagues of mine decided to start a Biggest Loser challenge and I was invited to join so I figured, hey, why not. I'm already losing weight so I might as well join this challenge for the harmless shit talking and chances to win a prize every two weeks. Today was our first report in day. We're supposed to report in every other Friday with our weight loss for the two week span. All reports aren't in yet but so far I rocked everyone with my 4.8 lbs. I feel great and have recovered 100% from the December/January slump. I can't wait to go to the gym after work more so to relax my shoulders in the hot tub but also for a mean work out in my new gym pants I bought yesterday. I am pretty sad about quitting the gym come the end of the month but I gotta do what I gotta do for my near future expenses.

I am staying home alone this weekend and very much looking forward to it. I no longer fear these weekends but embrace them as a time to do some serious cleaning, organizing, paperwork and some light cooking. They refresh me. It's been months and months since I've spent a full weekend with Mike without him working. I know once we move he'll have to work at least one day during the weekend but I am soooo excited for our first full weekend toegther in our new place.

I've decided to hold off on the searching for apartments for a while. I just can't take the anxiety. I really want to rent a house so come mid March I'll spend the $85 to register on vacancynet.com and find a house to rent. I can't look at the details of the houses right now without a subscription but there are 112 houses for rent right now in Camden County and most of them between $900 and $1,000 a month rent. I just hate apartments. I want to live in a town not a development. I don't ever want to be isolated due to a major highway being my only exit again. I don't want to have to use an elevator to get to my door and I don't want people living on all four sides of me. I want to feel at home and take my dog for a walk and watch kids playing and be able to go running for at least three miles before hitting a highway.

Fall of shame

I fell down the stairs soooooo hard Friday night. I was so scared and shaky and hyperventilatey and bruises are still popping up. My whole body suffered from my terrible fall. Woodburn took all the skin on my right knee, the side of my left thigh is BLACK not black and blue and purple but BLACK, my left shoulder bone has a big green bruise on it, my right shin is all scabby in three places with bumps and bruises around each cut, and I have wood burn on my toes and black and blues on both ankles. My left ankle was swollen until Sunday but fine now. I just can't believe how scary it is to fall like that.

I looked so pretty too. Looking pretty usually comes with a liability though. SHOES. Yep, it was the shoes' fault that I fell. I was talking to Mike who was at the foot of the stairs waiting for me and I was carrying a bunch of stuff and I was all set to go to the tattoo convention (remember my inner argument about what to wear) and I looked so nice in full make-up and my long skirt. I crashed and burned and cried and ruined my make-up and Mike didn't know what to do but bring me a tissue (after I said 'no, a paper towel is not good enough. I need a tissue wha wha wha.' He got annoyed and went upstairs and got the tissues and took my stuff out to the car while I tried breathing normal again.)

The stairs are wood and the banister is a twirly whirly wrought iron. Once I felt myself begin to fall forward onto my neck, I grabbed at the banister so hard that I jammed my three middle fingers against the wall and that was by far the most pain I felt as a result of the dumb shoes/stairs incident.

The tattoo convention was very small in comparison to the annual Roseland Ballroom, NYC convention. We stayed not even two hours and saw Enigma (Blue puzzle guy with horns. Yeah, you've seen him. Yes, you have) perform and do weird things to his body. We were never tempted to get ink even though the sound of a hundred tattoo guns can drive any tattoo enthusiast mad with urge. Our guy is just too good and the price is just too cheap and we don't trust anyone else anymore. If Larry stops inking, I don't know what we'd do.

We bought some stuff and circled the convention twice and went home to NJ and met up with friends and I got drunk and talked to an aquaintance about Harry Potter and Nickelodeon for a few hours and it was one of the best conversations I've had in a long time.

Good weekend.

Until I lost bets on the Superbowl for the second year in a row.

Education is the solution to poverty

I have nothing to say right now. I just thought you regulars may have been tired of seeing Evanna Lynch when you check in.

Meet Evanna Lynch

I present to you Evanna Lynch, soon to be known as weird, quiet, Looney Luna Lovegood. I like Luna's character in Order of the Phoenix very much. She was in book six too but I don't remember how much. Anyone remember if she fought alongside Harry in the final fight in Half Blood Prince.


Once again, I think the casting is perfect. Big eyes, very blonde hair, she does seem to have a bit of a dreaminess about her along with a bit of dorkiness. Luna just kind of leached onto Harry and Ron and she just kept showing up. She became a friend finally be default but she never seemed to even notice everyone made fun of her and thought she was looney. Her dad writes for a tabloid full of absolute nonsense and Luna believes all of it whole heartedly and quotes from it rather matter of factly, hence everyone thinking she's completely looney. I like Luna. Remember, only she and Harry can see the thestrals. I thought that was their first bonding experience.

March 7, Goblet of Fire comes out on dvd. I can't wait to see it again. I Never did make it to the imax theatre for it.

Philly Tattoo Convention

I found out last night while flipping through a Philadelphia Weekly I only grabbed because of the intriguing cover that the Philly Tattoo Convention is this weekend and better yet, I know exactly where. Mike and I are going to go and yes, I too will dress like it's summer out (pretty close, 25 degrees yesterday and 61 today) and show off my tats.

I went to one convention in NYC three years ago and was a very different person and felt extremly out of place without a big tattoo to show off and I also thought I was the ugliest girl to walk the convention and the 75% naked guys and girls and the burlesque models strolling around just made me want to crawl under a rock. The image I've always had of myself and always strived to be was a girl who looked just beautiful and classic with pale skin and red lips and a great body and awesome tattoos. I'm not there yet but I see myself there one day and I do stress over these types of events and I am pretty weird when it comes to image and yes, I want to be one of the hot chicks at the convention that guys check out and yes, that's just me. That's it. Conventions and car shows stress me out entirely way too much. I could go on forever but there's no need. The shallowest I can put it, I wish I was a hot 50's rock-a-billy babe with a giant curl for bangs and a swingin' pony tail and a size 6 hour glass figure and some really dope dresses. (I'm ashamed.)

The tats I've got and there will be more. The figure I'm working on. The clothes I'll buy once I get the figure, and the bangs, well, I got those, just need one of those giant curling irons.

Murphy's Law is playing, there will be a burlesque show, 120 vendors selling some of the weirdest and coolest shit around, the Disgraceland Freak Show will be there, sword swallowers, and don't forget what it is in itself. A place to go and look at sick (and awful) tattoos all night and stare at the insanely gorgeous half naked woman and wish you had a lot more moeny than you do so you could buy jewelry and artwork and dresses.

Deep down, I just don't think I could pull it off. (Glamour.) I am so not glamorous. I rather enjoy just being a halfway decent looking girl with an image all her own with cool tattoos. It must be hard for those girls to live up to that image all the time and they probably look weird going out in sweats to the grocery store. Must be a lot to live up to. I like being able to wear whatever I want to.

I'm so ready to go just have fun and not sweat it. I needed this discussion with myself. I'll have some funny stories for you all on Monday I'm sure.

Meet Vera Drake

It is always exciting for me when WB starts realeasing the names of the new actors in the upcoming Harry Potter film. Meet Vera Drake, soon to be known as the most hated woman in all of the Wizarding World, toad like, giant bow wearing, Harry Hater, anxiety instiller, Professor Umbridge!


I can totally see it. Supposivley she's won an Academy Award for something. I don't really care and in the three minutes it took me to navigate from the original CNN article (no, it was not a headline) to an image of Vera and back, the link had been replaced by none other than Heather Locklear files for divorce. No shit. All of Bon Jovi was saying months ago that she's a bitch and that Sammy wants more kids and she keeps refusing because she hasn't reached the level of stardom she deserves yet. I only know that because I had to read about it to get to what I actually wanted to know about.

Anyhow, I found the article about Vera Drake when I went back to copy the link for an article I read this morning which was a CNN headline. That too had already been removed and replaced by a kama sutra worm story. I can't find the article so therefore can't link it or quote from it so I am sorry. I guess it wasn't that important which was my point considering it was about the discovery of animal dumps in WV (I think it was WV.) The point is that hundreds upon hundreds of animals were found dead in a heep, some decapitated, most with tags or collars, some with iv bags attached to their legs and some were supposed to have been cremated and the owners supposively received the ashes. I know that's not new.

But what was amazing was that no one ever mentioned that fact that THESE ARE ANIMALS! Some jerk was like, 'Oh, this is a national forest and dumping is illegal and there can be some pretty stiff fines for this.' STIFF FINES!!! There's a group of people murdering animals, being paid to cremate them when they're just throwing them in garbage bags, and these are most likely strays and lost pets and whatever else. I wish I had the link. Everyone just talked about it like a mountain of bazooka joe wrappers and never addressed the REAL ISSUE. Disgusting.

Not Again

Boss is out for two days and I'm so happy to finally get all caught up. My office is pretty big and I feel like a little bug amidst a bunch of garbage. I thought I'd just take a break and take advantage of Carol gone for a little while. I can't be too much of a nerd.

I used to get these insane cravings for hobbies and pound my head against the wall if I didn't have this special talent or driving need to do or be good at something recreational. I would become obsessed with something and learn everything I possibly could about whatever hobby it was that month and then just let it die with a laundry list of excuses. Too expensive, don't live in Hawaii, too hard, need more space. Too expensive was the biggie though. Now I'm older and since living on my own, these hobbie urges have subsided. I guess once you move out on your own, you really truly do only what you feel like doing.

I don't feel that urge anymore. I can't remember the last time I felt bored. I've changed. I am no longer the girl who had anxiety attacks if in past dark on a Friday night, I am no longer the teenage girl who would drive around the same route for hours looking for something to do. I like to read, and collect recipes (#1 hobby!!!), I like to clean and fuck around with my face and nails, I like to cook and excercise. This is what I do. This is who I am. Mentally I know I am extremely complex but when it comes to living and routine, I'm pretty damn simple. I never thought I'd say it. I don't think this is permanent. I'm comfortable for the first time in my life and I'm not crazy or scared or ....anything. I'm happy and comfortable and that's not boring. I think it's just right for me.

Back to hobbies, I find now that the trick is for me to treat something like a job. For example, eating right, excercising, and saving money are my other jobs. I am responsible for those three things and it has sunk in enough that I don't have to think, I just do.

Writing is hiring me once I move in June. I'm fed up not fulfilling my dreams or even attempting to. Becoming an author is my only hope at not dying this way. I can't imagine one other thing I could possibly be known for. Yes, I want to be known for something when I die and no, known for being a good person is not good enough. I look back on the past year and a hlaf and it's been AMAZING! The amount of positive changes I have made cannot be counted on four hands. I can't wait to see how much further I'll go this summer and next year.

I still want some cool hobbies though. ;-) I know what they are, just too expensive. Damnit!