Does your blog still find you attractive?

There appears to be somewhat of a writing epidemic sweeping the blogging nation.

I know many of you have been experiencing some serious blogging apathy lately, and I am not immune.

I can blame so many things if I'm feeling defiant.  For example, my blogging disinterest could be due to...

...all the time I'm putting in at my internship site.

...the stress I'm experiencing due to general lack of finances.

...a low-fiber diet.

...not tonight, I have a headache.

Any and all of the previously mentioned excuses could be contributing factors.

However, as SurferWife was serenading my heart this evening, I realized that I'm coming up on my 2-year blogging anniversary.

That's it!

My blog is bored with me.

So, I've decided that my blog and I need to spice things up.  We've become comfortable and complacent with each other and that's not good enough if we want to keep the magic alive. 

I mean, we still love each other, but it's not exciting like it used to be.  Blogging is no longer new and exciting.  Mind you, it's still fun, but it's a very polite kind of fun.  Now, it's never going to be like it was in the beginning, but that doesn't mean we just give up, damn it!

So, I'm putting in the effort, kids.

Tonight, my blog and I left Twitter and Facebook with a sitter, we put our phones on vibrate (We didn't turn them off, okay?  That's just stupid.) and we got to know each other again.

Naturally, this included taking the blog out for a seafood dinner, getting it drunk, feeling it up in the Red Lobster parking lot for an hour and then letting it pass out in front of the TV to an Anne Murray special on the Hallmark Channel.

Now, I'm writing.

And you know what?  It feels like the first time.

It feels like the very first time!

I'm your worst nightmare is who I is!

In many ways, I am a simple woman.

I don't require my partner to drive a super fancy car.  In fact, I'd rather he didn't because I feel like the insurance would be sky high and I'd rather save that money for a bad-ass vacation.

I don't want this dude to be a world-renowned surgeon because then his work will always come first.

I don't even want a guy who exercises a lot or who is really into working out.  Quite frankly, I can't relate to the elation of "maxing out" after a record number of reps.  I could give a shit.

I bring this up because lately, I'm getting rather annoyed with the men I'm meeting who insist that I'm totally missing out or wasting my life because I'm not  _________ (fill in the blank.)

Most recently, that blank has been filled with hiking, seeing the movie Goonies (shut up, I don't want to hear it), hitting the bars late at night or fully appreciating all the wonders my town has to offer.

I have never liked hiking or bar hopping and I can't tell you how annoyed I get when someone hears of  a movie I haven't seen yet and I'm assaulted with, "WHAT???  You haven't seen it??  Where have you been??"

As it turns out, that reaction does not, in fact, make me want to see your damn movie any more than I already did.

I have had almost the exact same priorities since childhood:

1. Family and friends
2. Food and sleep
3. Television, music, movies, books and pop culture

I respect the hell out of the fact that everyone's priorities are different.  If you want to put your hamster, Mr. Nibbles, at number one, be my guest.  If food doesn't even make your top ten, well, I don't get that but it's your choice.

All I ask is that if you're trying to date me, rather than insist that I need to rearrange my preferences, you recognize that I already know what I want and I'm not shifting anything to include your daily ritual of wombat sacrifice.

You know, unless there's cake.

They shoot Hondas, don't they?

Last Friday, I headed out to work.

I got in my car, warmed it up appropriately for 18 degree weather and started making my way to campus.

After sitting by the side of the road for an hour, getting towed to the local mechanic and sitting in an office long enough to thaw out my extremities, I learned that my transmission was shot.

Neat.

The next evening, I was in my room getting ready to talk to my lovely friend Sonya via Google video chat when my internet cut out....

...followed by the rest of the power in the house.

Awesome.


Today, I had a lovely discussion with a woman in the Financial Aid office who told me that the bill I'd received requesting $5,000 for next semester's tuition was just a formality and that everyone gets them regardless of the actual amount in a student's account.

Brilliant.

I got all As in my first semester of grad school EXCEPT for an A- in one class.  Now, I've never been a raging scholar or a self-professed academic, but come on!  I missed out on a 4.0 (for the first time in my life, thank you) because of one class where I probably got docked for not being fluffy and emotional enough.  Stupid therapy classes.

Rats, bats and spiders.

It comes down to this:

• I killed the car.
  
• Water is leaking into our fuse box, so electricity is inconsistent at best.
  
• This town is making my soul bleed.
• I'm mad about my 3.9 GPA.  Who am I?

I ate my feelings last Friday after the initial car trauma.  My intestines are still recovering thanks to a pitcher of margaritas and a large wheel of brie, so I don't think I can do that again just yet.

Unfortunately, that is largely how I deal with my emotions so I'm not really sure how to combat this giant bucket of yuck.

Thoughts?



*Be advised, I do not smoke, do drugs, "get back to nature", line dance, engage in large craft projects, compete in team sports or cook.

**Also, supportive phrases like, "Hang in there!" or "Walk it off!" are not helpful.

Thank God I'm not lactose intolerant

Today sucked.

Some days just aren't good. I generally believe that everyone is in charge of his or her own happiness. Some days, however, are out of your control.

There are those very special days where it seems like The Man has sharpened a stick to be extra pokey and is repeatedly jabbing it in your butt. You know, for kicks.

The highlight of my day was when my boss brought an assortment of cheeses into our weekly meeting.

So, this one goes out to you, boss lady! Your cheese brought me up a level to "Sucky" from "Complete and Utter Waste of my Life".

Thanks, JM!

I think I've got the black lung, Pop.

Some days just crawl by and today is moving about as fast as a 90-year old man behind the wheel of a coupe de ville with handicapped plates. Shut up, you know it's true.

I don't know what it is about today, but I have no energy and everything seems dull and slightly muted. It could be the craptastic weather that's taunting me through my office window or it could be my Easter lily that's dying a very slow and painful death in the corner. It could also be that I brought my lunch to work today and then hoovered it well before 11am.

I don't know what it is. To borrow yet another word from Liz Lemon, there is but one way to sum up this day: blurg.

When I get into this sort of a mood, I start doing less socially acceptable things to stay entertained. I might just start chucking pens across the room. Not with anger, mind you. I kind of like to toss them just to see them fly. It's kind of like when your cat jumps up on your dresser and knocks off every pair of earrings you have, just to see them fall, not that my cat does that with such regularity that I start to question her ability to tell time.

To borrow yet another word, I think I need to make this day spicy (thanks, Cjane). How shall I salvage this lackluster day?

1) Pick all the pens up off my floor
2) Order some Thai food for second lunch
3) Do the Robot when I think no one is looking
4) Mix up my multi-colored paper clips so it looks like I have 6 compartments of Lucky Charms on my desk
5) Walk like Naomi Campbell whenever I get up to visit the copy machine or the mail room

And one last quote from a guy I met at Indiana University, who has some of the best Facebook status updates this side of French Lick!

Carl thinks there'd better be some goddamn mind-blowing May Flowers after these April Showers.