MonthDecember 2005

Happy New Year!

So I’m skipping some time between entries … nothing new, I suppose. I’d like to say that I’ve been too busy to blog, but that would be a lie, and I’m much to innocent to ever lie … Truth is, I’ve just not had anything exciting to write about. But it’s new year’s and I needed to post, if only to mark the occasion.

2005 … an up and down year. More kidney stones passed — tho thankfully, no surgery this year. THAT is a blessing in and of itself. Let’s see if I can remember some stuff that happened …

I started the year working at UTMB in Galveston, and come February I met a guy (Matt) who lived in Beaumont. We dated for a few months, and it was actually a pretty good thing. I really enjoyed his company and he bought me flowers … but, be it the distance, his lack of experience in relationships, or general immaturity — he became quite disenchanted with things and we broke up a few days after his birthday in June (I think). And things didn’t end so well — well, at least he must have thought so because he won’t talk to me at all now. I think it has something to do with the fact that I told him that all my friends thought his sister was a bitch at his birthday party (which I through for him). Oh well … not a big deal, and while I was sorta upset when I saw the decline in things, I didn’t shed a tear when it ended. (Well had probably dried up, I guess.)

Come April, I started working for Continental, thanks to David and his help in getting an interview. I’m still there and pretty much enjoy what I do. The politics are ridiculous and frustrating, so I just do what I’m told and hope things will improve.

Because of my flight benefits, Matt and I went to visit Adam for his house warming party. We bought him some rather lovely wine glasses and had a pretty good time meeting Adam and D and the rest of Adam’s friends. Way cute house, too. He even has a dungeon.

About halfway through the year, University of Phoenix started pulling shit, increasing tuition rates (again) — but gave me the option to freeze my rate if I agreed to remove the one week break between my classes. I think that was in May. Graduation date wasn’t set until mid-January … that’s a lot of class with no breaks. But I agreed, and have persevered. Annnddd … I have TWO days left of school until I graduate. What a blessing that is, and I’m SO happy to have a degree finally and be done with mess.

Let’s see … in October, David and I went to the Macromedia MAX 2005 Conference in Anaheim, California. I went a day early and stayed with Joz and Yoshi (who were absolutely fabulous). David met us the day after and we did some shopping and had lunch. The conference was ok — focused a lot of stuff we didn’t need, and was pretty basic in other areas. But I guess you have to try to meet all audiences. Still it was fun, and I got way sick and was shitting like every hour. Made for a MISERABLE day. And then I drank waayyyyy to much and … well… who needs details. (Let’s just say that me and the hotel toilet became very well acquainted.)

November came around, and Thanksgiving came out of no where. My darling doll of a friend, Wanda, joined me this year for Thanksgiving with my family. My father told me I should marry her because she’s “real pretty, and personable.” Go dad. I also proceeded to confuse my extended family on my mom’s side who apparently “thought I was gay for all these years.” So Wanda is now my fiancee and we laugh about it all the time. I’ve actually made quite a good friend in Wanda, and we do stuff several times a week. She’s kept my holidays pretty fun, so I’m glad we became friends.

December .. my birthday came around, Christmas. Had major anxiety for some reason, and … well … it was just a pretty rough fuckin’ time, and I’ll leave it at that. David put together a dinner for me at the Red Onion, bless him, and then we ajourned to Guava for drinks. Got pretty drunk (again) – but had a great time. Christmas was with the fam, as usual. Was a relaxed time and my grandmother talked to me about yeast infections.

And that leads us to New Years. I’m making dinner for Wanda and myself, which I’ve been preparing most of today. Cheesecake’s in the oven as I type this. I’m about to go start the bread. It should be fabulous. πŸ™‚

Anyway, I hope you all have a fantastic and safe new year. I know 2006 is going to be a better year. I demand it, actually. I’ve made several goals for 2006 already (no resolutions … resolutions never make it — goals do) and I am excited to see what the year brings.

Merry Christmas!

It is now officially Christmas, and I have now wrapped most of my gifts. Oddly, I watched the original (black and white) Night of the Living Dead while I wrapped gifts. What a truly fantastic movie. It also made me realize how much the movie Cabin Fever is a bastard movie with way too many similar scenes (minus the gross fingering thing — that scene STILL makes me want to barf.)

Anyway, I hope you all have a very happy and safe Christmas. I hope you all setup your Caga Tio and have hit it with your sticks which sing the Caga Tio song. You think I’m joking or perhaps high? Google it and see what it is. I personally think all corporations in America should steer away from Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and focus more on Caga Tio. Just think how much our economy would improve.

Just to quench your thirst for knowledge, here is a write up on Caga Tio from Boing Boing:

Caga tio comes in many sizes, but generally looks just like our new friend, sans the pipe. Customs surrounding caga tio differ, but all agree, caga tio means “shit log.” Here I relay to you what I think is the full blown caga tio ritual.

Fifteen days before Christmas, caga tio makes his appearance in the dining room, where he must be fed at least once every day. He likes oranges, crackers and sweet wine. In some families, caga tio starts small, but grows as the days progress toward Christmas.

At some point, caga tio is moved out of the dining room, into the living room, and covered with a blanket to keep him warm. On Christmas Eve, before the traditional Christmas dinner, the kids are sent to their rooms to say three Our Fathers, which gives the elders enough time to stash presents under caga tio’s blanket. After their prayers are done, the kids return to the living room and start beating the hell out of poor caga tio with big sticks. And they sing a song. One version goes “Shit, log, shit! If you don’t shit well, we will whack you again!” Another goes “Log, log, shit candy! If you don’t shit for Christmas, we will whack you once more!”

After the children have gotten their fill of flogging the log, the blanket is removed to determine caga tio’s state of digestion. Typically, a miracle has occurred, and the log has pooped wrapped gifts, which are called “the shits.” Often one of the shits will be something weird, like an egg, to let everyone know that it was the last one deposited by caga tio.

This is my understanding of caga tio, but I feel like there are probably many nuances I’m missing. If you know of any catalans, please let me know so I can ask them some questions.

Ah, another exemplar of Catalan Christmas coprophilia is candy shaped like poo. We got some of this stuff, but ate it all before we could take a picture of it. If you’re interested, we’ll hunt more down tomorrow. Acutally… it was GOOD – we’re getting more tomorrow no matter what!

And with that said, I wish you and your log the best for the the holiday season. I’ve got a lot brewing in my head which will have to be spilt here eventually — so until then, Merry Christmas!

Holiday Haircut

So now that I live in Houston, it’s a 45 minute drive to get to the lady who cuts my hair. (She’s cut my hair for a long time, so I don’t mind the drive.) And last nite I had a haircut at 7. Everyone was rather cheery and festive, and I arrived somewhat early – so I sat in the waiting Β area, talking on the phone with the lovely Wanda and discussed the large sausage she just received (with wine and pate — quite the gift basket if you ask me).

So Missy comes to get me and we’re walking back to wash my hair and as we’re walking by this woman stops us. I had seen her while I was waiting, rushing here and there with books and stuff – I figured she must be the owner of the place. She was probably in her late 40s, early 50s, and wearing some funky baggy pants/shorts thing with a sweater and boots that apparently went all the way up to the cabbage patch.

Anyway, so we’re walking by and she stops and says “I just wanted to tell you that we all think you’re real cute.” I was like “um, ok” and figured she was talking to Missy since I’d never seen her before. So I just sorta blinked and she walked on.

I was like “was she talking to you?” and Missy was like “I’ve worked with her for 18 years, I seriously doubt she’d just one day come and say ‘we all think you’re real cute.'” I was totally taken back. People don’t just tell me things like that, much less total strangers. (Well, I got it all the time when I was a little kid from old women — they’re all “Oh, you’re so cute! I love your red hair! Want to trade?” I seem to associate that memory to a rather scary feeling — old strangers offering me their hair. Yikes.)

But anyway, it was really nice. Made my night. πŸ™‚

Shit Sells

I was searching online for some fun gifts for people and came across this delightful website. (Do not ask me how I found it … or think that I’m really wrong for searching for things that would have ended up with this on my screen. I’m sick, remember?)

It is absolutely ADORABLE. I even have them as my wallpaper on my pc at work. You can buy stuffed animals (for like a gazillion euros, but whatever — I mean, can you really put a price on owning a stuff piece of shit and drop of pee? I wonder if they coudl send me a red one.)

Comments Closed for a Bit

Sorry — Got attacked by an asshole spammer. I’m working on it — stupid fuckers. What gets me, is the spam isn’t for things like Viagra — it’s for like and weird shit like — because they need advertising. It seriously makes me think they’re doing it just to be assholes.

Joy of the Ghetto

One of the best things about living in the ghetto is trash pick up. Well, sorta. Our trash is only picked up once a week — and if someone blocks your trashcan with their car, it won’t get picked up, like it didn’t last week. So I’m up to my rosy red asshole in trash until Thursday.
On the other hand, sometimes there are issues with large objects that you need to get rid of — like shelving or, as was the case this weekend, a 19″ computer monitor.

All ya gotta do is just sit it on the curb and it will magically disappear over nite. Well, it actually took two nites, but that’s probably because it rained the first nite. LOL. So someone really scored with my broken, wet 19″ monitor. LOL (At least there was the cord, I suppose they could still use that. LOL)

the things you miss

Two entries in one day … WATCH OUT!

I had a busy weekend this last weekend. I did a lot of work and school work, but I also went out both Friday and Saturday nights with my lovely friend Wanda. It’s always a guaranteed good time with her.

So — Friday nite went to Guava Lamp, a place I usually go on karaoke Wednesdays or Sundays. But we just wanted to drink and chill, so we went to Guava and just people watched for a good while. So I’m two glasses of wine into the nite, and I’m watching some video for god only knows what, and Wanda is like “hey, who is that freako staring at you?” — I move my eyes slightly down and to the left and there … to my horror … was Logan — staring at me with his stupid grin — and all I could say was “Ah fuck. It’s Logan.” I sorta kind’a sorta waved — an obviously hesitant wave.

He never came over to talk, which is very good. I wasn’t prepared for such an encounter, and Wanda was like “He is SO not going to come over here.” I know she would have staged an appropriate intervention if he had.

He watched me most of the night — and to be honest, I watched him most of the nite as well. He wasn’t with anyone, just being a floater, talking to people here and there, drinking his usual (extra) dirty martini.

He was such an ass. Hurt me a whole hella lot. A WHOLE lot. But at the same time, he made me realize a lot about myself, that I needed to step up to some stuff, and I would like to think that I have. I’m a much better/different person that the fool that fell for him.

But … of course … seeing him made my stomach leap and get lodged in my throat. It’s been two years… and he looks exactly the same (which I still find rather attractive.) I sorta miss him a bit, I guess – at least the part before he was an asshole. But then I think about his family and realize that I really have no need to have him or anyone associated with him in my life.
But I still think about him on occassion… moreso now that I’ve actually seen him again. *le sigh* (but not *le sigh* in a bad way.) LOL

Only My Momma

All of my friends know me as the kind of person who never really sees that proverbial line that indicates when to stop a conversation, particularly when it’s heading down an unsavory path. That gene never fell to me, I suppose — but after a conversation with my mother this morning, I wonder if the gene was ever there to pass on. LOL (Not that my mother is uncouth, she’s a classy broad.)

See, I had a little accident this weekend.

I was moving these big plastic tubs to my mom’s garage, and the airplane hanger (which connects to the garage) was open. On top of that, it was already a particularly blustery day. Well, when the garage door and hanger door are open, it makes something of a Hurricane Katrina-force wind tunnel (unbeknownst to me, of course). So here I am walking with this stack of plastic tubs (3’x2′ hard plastic), and a stack of hard plastic lids sitting on top, heading to the garage. Anyone want to guess what happens?

The wind catches the stack o’ heavy plastic lids, lifts them up as if by magic (LEVIOSA!), and slams them smack on into my face. Of course, I dropped the tubs, as if in shock, and instantly grabbed my nose. And of course, i cried like a little bitch, because it fuckin’ hurt. So my nose is bleeding, I’m thinking “great, the plastic tubs broke my nose. I’ll have a bruised up schnoz for my birthday – NO PICTURES!” So I’m running into the house, trying to avoid the paparazzi that is determined to ruin my life, and sink into the couch while I wait for my mom to finish getting dressed.

The bleeding stops, and my nose is all kinds of red and real sore to the touch. (Sore as in, when I’m putting on a shirt, I’m all kinds of wary to avoid my nose altogether.)

Well, this morning I look in the mirror after getting out of the shower, and to my horror, I have a pimple right where the tub lids hit me. πŸ™ And it was quite ready to be popped.

So I summoned the courage of God and squoze the shit out of it. And it squirted on the mirror.

So at least i got the bang for my buck.

So — back to where I was going with this. I told my mom via instant messenger today about that, and here was our conversation. This is living proof that I am my mother’s son.

Me: dude
Me: i got a zit on my nose πŸ™
Me: right where that thing hit me.
Mom: ew
Me: and was all white and stuff
Mom: wow
Me: i thought i was going to die when i popped it
Mom: ew
Me: and it squirted on the mirror
Me: πŸ™
Mom: i told you it looked red
Mom: ew
Mom: did you lick it clean
Me: it’s still sore, but not as bad
Me: lol
Me: no
Mom: hehe
Me: i’m so going to blog that, btw
Mom: ew
Mom: dont say it was me πŸ˜‰
Me: oh no.
Me: it’s all about you.
Me: lol
Me: about how i get my grossness from you
Mom: thanks
Mom: hehe
Mom: it’s not me – really O:-)

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