So far thirty is really nice.
I feel, as Carrie Bradshaw would say, Single and Fabulous (Exclamation Point)
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My admin made cupcakes that have chocolate chip cookies INSIDE of them. OMG yum! I’ve also, thus far, received 7 skeins of Noro Silk Garden. This is going to make one hell of a blanket :) Oh, and my cube is covered in streamers, the number 30, and a headstone that says “RIP” on it. Oh those wacky coworkers of mine 
Something tells me the first thing I’m going to have to do when I get my health insurance is to get a wisdom tooth out.
I’ve had my bottom two removed, and subsequently, ended up with dry socket. I’ve heard that it’s less common to have dry socket when having the uppers removed, but I’m still not looking forward to it. I was told that it looked like my uppers weren’t going to be a problem, so I should just keep them in unless they DID become a problem.
Guess what? That pain shooting down the right side of my face? It’s a problem.
Anyone want to play nurse to me when I have this done? Also, does anyone want to foot the bill for the remainder that insurance won’t pay for?
I did mass quantities of laundry yesterday, which means I was in and out of my apartment for the better portion of the day. I was thankful that it was on my last trip that I stepped out of my apartment and got a familiar whiff of something in the hallway - clove cigarettes.
I mentioned this to Ginny, and said it brought back two memories for me: Rocky (Horror) and ex-j. The thing is, the bit about ex-j isn’t all bad - usually when he was smoking it meant we were out somewhere, and that was fun a majority of the time. It was the times we were home and he was sober that didn’t always turn out to be fun.
Which made me think about how I want to be in future relationships, and why I’m not in one right now. I HAVE become picky about who I spend my time with, and it’s not a bad thing! I’d like to think that the me of the future would have enough oomph in her to not get into a bad relationship in the first place, but in case one did slip by, she’d know when it was time to get out of it.
I’m already feeling a bit of an evolution going on after this past weekend - Wait, let me back up a little. I mentioned a few weeks ago I had a date with BM (black man), who I have now dubbed “the Nigerian”, simply because he is. We had a nice first date, with an amazing end of the evening kiss, and though he said he’d call over the weekend, he hadn’t. The following Monday (this would be the Monday before Valentine’s Day) I bit the bullet and sent him a simple text saying that I had fun and he should call me if he wants to hang out again. We caught up with each other online later in the week (Thursday) and made tentative plans for Friday night.
Friday night (the 15th) we went out and saw a movie, had a few drinks and chatted. Somewhere in the course of things I got the impression he was not looking for a long-term relationship. So, as the evening was about to end and we were standing in the parking lot looking at his car (he was going to give me a ride home) I decided I could do one of two things: Go home and wonder if he’d ever call, but not be upset if he didn’t because… I saw it coming. Or B, I could have my cake (so to speak), and still not be upset if he didn’t call because… I saw it coming.
I opted for B.
And so, much much later in the evening, I asked if he’d drive me home (because I didn’t want to stay overnight), and he obliged. Before I got out of the car he said, “I’ll call you,” to which I promptly said, with a bit of sarcasm mixed with doubt ”will you?” He said he would.
Needless to say, I went the entire week without hearing from him - until Friday at 4:00pm. He sent a simple text that said, “hey sweetheart.”
He waited a week to say “hey”? And who is he calling sweetheart? I immediately deemed this text the begining of his attempt on making a booty call. Again, not surprised when, a couple texts in, he asks, “what are you up to tonight?” I laughed to myself, and realized again I had two choices - I could be the booty call, or I could take the higher road and not stoop to that level. “hanging with the girls,” was my reply. His reply after that? “oh.”
So my evolution is this: If this situation had happened a few months back, I totally would have dropped what I was doing to hang with him… but I didn’t. The mere fact that I chose staying home on a Friday night to eat Chinese food and catch up on Sex and the City over meaningless (yet omg amazing) sex, says quite a bit about where I see things going for me.
Today (well, ok, this moment) is a time where Thirty doesn’t scare me.
A few things of note about this year:
- I broke off my first “major” relationship (as in, I was living with this guy) and ended up with a roommate who was both Anorexic and Bulimic: it just depended on the week. Sometimes she’d starve, othertimes she’d binge. The first time I brought my friends over after moving in with said roommate we found her passed out, face down, on the living room floor with a 6 pack of beer. (Oh, did I mention she was also an alcoholic?) And, lest we forget, every time I vacuumed the apartment I’d shimmy the sofa and I’d find empty boxes of laxatives under there. Good times…
- I could go on and on forever about how EXCELLENT this summer was… instead, I’m going to see if I can get a hold of Ginny and see if she will do a guest post about this summer because it really does deserve it’s own mention.
- I decided to move to Seattle (I was in Florida because, well, when else would I have the opportunity to move across the country unattached to anything?
I’m going to leave you with a link that is both hilarious and embarrassing - it will sum up the trip from Florida to Seattle with my sister…. You wouldn’t believe that we did this anyhow, unless you saw the webpage yourself. (I am honestly surprised Geocities still even has my stuff up!) -Cornholio does America.
OMG I totally just got a whiff of I don’t want to turn 30!
Make it stop!!!
Edit: I’ve just decided that all will be ok, as soon as I can figure out how to get on the island.
I have to choose my words wisely here, because much of this time (and 1997 to come) will involve my sister and I think that even if I say the nicest things I’ll hear back from my mother that she’s pissed I talked about her on the internet at all.
But the truth is, living in Seattle with her, my Brother-in-Law, and our roommate Eric was fun… we, for the most part, genuinely had a great time. Some key things I remember:
-Random road trips to Seattle where we always ended somehow listening to Tool over the Tacoma Narrows bridge.
-Always cooking dinner together, and somehow the subject of Eric’s penis always made it into conversation.
-Sitting in the hottub outside while it was snowing.
-The rare moments when no one else was home and I had free reign over the stereo to blast things like Hanson or the Spice Girls.
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I had 2 friends while I lived in Seattle: Molly and Mark. I met both of them in very different ways.
Molly was Mormon, and was interning at the Sign Shop I worked at for a while. Molly was attending college on Bainbridge Island and when I went to her graduation (it was an art school) I got my first glimpses of what Interior Design students produce. Molly herself was in Graphic Design. Molly hated scary movies, so I’d bring them to her place. She also had word magnets on the back of her door and I would make them say vulgar things before I left. I don’t know why I was on a mission to corrupt her - let’s blame it on being young and silly.
Mark was a different story. He and I met while waiting in line for tickets to see Tori Amos. He was this 6′7″ Asian man wearing a yellow beanie - you couldn’t miss him! I had been talking to some people in the area via ICQ and found out that one of these people happened to know Mark. They invited me up to Bellingham (Mark was a student at Western Washingington University at the time), and, I went! Drove 3 hours to hang out with some people I met off the internet.
Mark and I hit it off well, but never really became boyfriend/girlfriend, but we might as well have been since we spent quite a bit of time together.
My best memory of Mark is this: 4th of July on Bainbridge Island… they had a street fair and this was back when Swing Dancing made a mini comeback. Mark, as tall as he was, knew how to dance. At the time, I was holding steady at a nice 145-150lbs and was eager to learn how to dance. After he taught me the basic steps, he twisted and twirled me all over the street - flinging me over his head, through his legs, around his waist. It was by far one of the most fun experiences ever.
People… I hope you’re sitting down for this: I went to the gym tonight.
Yes indeed, it’s true! I joined a fancy-pants gym last week, came up with every reason not to go, but tonight… tonight I went. I did a half hour on the elliptical (PS - Nike iPod thingie… does not work on elliptical), and seriously thought about quitting at 15 minutes, but I stuck it out for the full 30.
My major problem is, I’m so out of shape that the little heart-rate monitor kept going “ABOVE” on me. I know that once I get into a regular habit of exercising the speed I kept tonight will have me in a healthier spot, but in the meantime, in order to not feel like I was going to die, I felt like I was going super slow on the machine.
Another thing that has me worried are my knees. They seriously have cracking issues. I couldn’t think of a proper way to explain it, so here’s my super geekery video of my knees cracking and me saying a variation on the word “bitch”.
So, needless to say, as soon as I have me some health insurance? I’m off to the doctor to make sure there isn’t something more serious than me just being a klutz.
I’m going to have to split 1998 and 1997 into two parts because both of them involve a cross-country trip during a portion of them, and there’s enough other stuff to warrant a whole other entry of its own.
So, let’s start with the latter half of 1998 first, since that’s what that title up there says I’m writing about today.
I was living in Seattle in 1998 and in August I decided to take a trip back to Florida for a week to visit my friends. Earlier in the year I became reacquainted with my ex-m, who I dated for a little while back when I was 15 or so… We hadn’t talked for like 3 years and his name popped up in an email a mutual friend had sent off to a bunch of people. Found him on ICQ, we chatted away, and the rest, as they say, was history.
I flew into the Orlando airport and exM picked me up… the plan was to stay at his place for a day or two, he’d drive me to Melbourne/Palm Bay so I could see my other friends, and we even made a trip down to West Palm Beach together. Something happened within that week where ex-M and I just clicked. I don’t know what exactly it was, but when I was back at the Orlando airport waiting for my plane to depart he said to me, “Go back to Seattle, save up your money. I’m coming back up there in a couple months to get you.”
And that’s pretty much what I did. As much fun as I had in Seattle with my sister and co., I hadn’t really made many friends up there so I was still pining away for my Florida life. And at this point, having a person who wanted me back there with them? Well. The choice was easy.
…….
I wrote the upper portion of this about 3 days ago… I had started to chronical the rest of the trip in story form, but I realized photos might speak louder than anything I could really say.
See, we, exM and I, spent a good 4-5 days in Phoenix at his Grandmother’s house. While we were out one night at one of the coolest pizza places ever, we started doodling on napkins. 5 of them, to be exact. I’ve scanned 3 of them, each for a particular reason. I really don’t want to elaborate any further, so I’ll just show them to you:
Ex-m turned 30 today. I thought it only fitting that I finally get this posted. I can’t believe this was 10 years ago.
For my 21st birthday I was at a bowling alley with ex-M and a couple of his friends. Around 11:30pm on the night of the 27th, I decided to go all rebel-like and walk up to the bar and order a drink. I thought, “She’ll card me and I can put up a fight that I’m *almost* 21 and see if I can still get a drink, or wait another half hour,” You know what happened, don’t you? The bitch didn’t card me. I got the drink with no problems what-so-ever. It made me wonder where the hell she was when I was 18 and my friends and I knew which parents would actually buy alcohol for us - we could have just drank there! And then there was the bit that I felt old because she must have thought I looked over 21. Hmph.
I was trying to remember if my first trip to Illinois happened when I was 21, or 22. I was curious enough that I wrote ex-M to ask him, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. We’re going to say, for arguments sake, that it was in 1999 that I had my first glimpse of Chicago.
Ex-m’s Stepfather hailed from this area. He was (probably still is) a die-hard Cubbie fan. I never understood the fascination with him watching the games until I came up here and learned that there are more of his kind around here. Anyhow, Ex-M, his mom, stepdad, and myself all came up here, Buffalo Grove specifically, for a 4 day weekend. I don’t recall what it was for, but I’m pretty sure it was summer time because I remember being outside quite a bit… his step-niece or something like that was one of those kids who had all the cool toys - in particular she had a trampoline which was crazy quantities of fun.
Ex-m’s cousin took us into the city for a few hours before we had to be back at O’Hare… I remember he took Lower Wacker, which means we got a GREAT view of the underground of Chicago, and we ate lunch at the Cheesecake Factory underneath the Hancock Building. From there we basically turned around and went straight to the airport so really, prior to coming up here to check out schools, my exposure to Chicago was limited to these few hours.
Not much else worth noting happened in ‘99. I drank less after turning 21 than I did before I turned 21 (well, that was until I turned 23 :)), the trip to Chicago was my first time on a plane WITH someone else, and OH CRAP! I just remembered! 1999 was the year we got Willow and Neo!
I don’t have kitten pictures handy, but I’ll have to look around for some… We went off in search of one kitty, I wanted a girl, but when Ex-M got a hold of Neo he wasn’t letting go - which I was very thankful for. Neo, as previously mentioned, passed away in 2005… Willow is still around, yet she’s had some health issues throughout the years that has her now pulling out her fur on her back. The vet says as long as she’s eating, drinking, playing like normal, there’s no reason to medicate her… So, I just have a mildly neurotic cat.
Gee… I wonder where she gets her anxiety from?
Yesterday morning, it was nearing 6:00am and I knew that even if my bus showed up right then, I would miss my train downtown - so I hopped a cab.
My guiltiest pleasure is taking cab rides… It’s the worst thing I can do in my financial situation, but when something like… oh, I don’t know… being late to work comes into play, I feel I’m justified in hailing a cab.
Anyhow, this cab driver immediately tells me if I had a boyfriend I could just have him take me to work. I ask him, “What makes you think I don’t have a boyfriend?” and he says, “You just have a look about you.”
A look? Did I get a tattoo I don’t remember that says I’m Single across my forehead? Is it because I don’t usually bother with makeup until I’m on the train? Do my multiple layers to stay warm because it was in the single digits reveal that under it all I haven’t bothered to shave my legs?
So this cab driver keeps asking me for my phone number and I keep telling him no. My problem in situations like this is I am simply too honest. He asks, “You live up there?” (Up there being the neighborhood he picked me up in..) I say, “Yes.” I could have said, “Actually, I was at my boyfriend’s house.” or “No, this is where I change buses.” But no. My overactive imagination then realizes this man is holding my credit card (another reason I should always keep a 20 on me at all times) and now he has my last name and knows my neighborhood.
So that was yesterday morning… And thinking about this little incident where the cab driver from Jordan (I like finding out where their accents are from), I’m silently cursing myself that I can’t be as forthcoming and honest with someone that I actually DO find attractive - because he’s my train conductor! Just before my stop, we’re mere feet away from each other and I saw him smile at me and I smiled back, but did not want to be giving off “the look” - whatever that is - to appear desperate. But oh man… These days it doesn’t take much for me to have a crush on someone, but this guy is cuter than most of the other men in uniform I see each morning. And for what it’s worth, he sounds like he’s from the Midwest - and does not have a ring on his finger.
Why can’t I say more than hello to him? Why do I just sit there with my iPod on (well, the headphones on.. the music was paused) hoping he’ll talk to me?
When did I become so inept at human interaction with the opposite sex?
