so close to perfect, swear to hell thought it was you

At least you are only dealing with mother issues. My problem is with my whole family. First, my brother dissed me practically the whole weekend. Now, we have never been as close as some brother-sister duos, but still you would think that he would want to spend a little bit of time with me. Instead, he wanted to hang out with his friend who was in "from out of town." And am I not from "out of town?" He can't even be creative with his excuses, just saying "I'm tired, and I don't like Nicholas Cage." Then we come home from the movies and he is gone, leaving a note on a cranberry-stained paper towel by the coffee pot simply saying "went to see my friend Mikki from out of town." Now, I'm no big fan of Nicholas Cage(really, what has he done of note since Raising Arizona?) but I went to the movie because it is a tradition in our house and because my dad was scared of the gay sex scenes in "Alexander." Which, by the way, is limited to a kiss or two and a hug. I don't think they are even naked hugs, mind you. Plus, he told me he invited his friend over for dinner because he didn't have any family around. This guy used to be seriously hot (way back in July for cripes sake) and now? Not so hot. At all. Sadly. Mistaken. What a let down. I mean it would have been sort of nice....

My mother. I don't know how it happend, but gradually since I moved out and away, everything she says seems to annoy me in a gradually excelerating manner. I start home in a good mood and by the second day, I'm shutting down. I think it is because she will ask you the same question over and over again until you give her the "right" answer. Usually, about little everyday things like "Are you sure you don't want to eat an egg for breakfast?" Usually, the "right" answer is the opposite of what I say. Or maybe it is because she always refers to herself as Grandma when speaking with the cat. And I am always Mommy. And she speaks in a disgustingly sweet baby talk voice. And my brother is Uncle Dave. C'mon now.

Then again, I listened to David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim on the way home. It sort of puts things in perspective. I recommend the audio book version, because the stories are priceless when read by him. His voice. His impressions of his hick brother Paul. It is the kind of audio book you can get obsessed with.

GGB is on page 101 of that People magazine. You were sort of close. Maybe a little dyslexic. Also, he is on page 35. In drag. I thought it was Holly Hunter, but alas, it is GGB. It doesn't diminish anything, people.

I'm fantastic, my words are elastic..

This day started off sort of shit-monst, but with the help of a tasty sandwich, an amusing blog entry from Leslie, and a heaping dose of sugar in the form of the forced monthly "catch-all" birthday cake; I'm a new woman. So inspired am I, I've realized I forgot to give thanks to some of the things that I thought were in 2004. Here goes nothing:

Steve Colman: I must admit that I thought Steve Colman was dope in 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, & 2003 as well. My winamp just happened to play me one of his poems today and it reminded me how crazy words can be sometimes. Also? He's pretty hot. This one time he was at a NACA convention we went to in Jacksonville and I got a chance to chat with him. He told me how he sat next to Jam Master Jay's little brother in elementary school and how his parents have a house in Cape May. The best part of it all was that Preston, unbeknownst to me, was videotaping the entire encounter from afar and voice-overed: "Love Happens." That Preston Noe, he sure was one silly bitch.

Freaks and Geeks: Hench sent this to me when I broke my leg to pass the time while sentenced to the barca lounger. She's definitely getting into heaven.

Okay...I'm gonna ad-mit it right here: the sugar high I was riding when I started this entry has completely crashed and burned and I've lost my ambition. I guess we can make this into a series of posts...like Howard does with the F-Emmys. Hmm?

I met your boyfriend today...

by merely chance coincidence really. I was in 7-11 trying to handle the oatmeal cookies with the tissue paper that they provide for you. *All though I can't really fathom why they have tissue paper since there are knats flying around in the cookie container anyway. We wouldn't want the knats to become ill over my hand germs would we* I'm digressing - so this guy behind me says "where's your friend?" cept it sounds kinda like "Whea's yo frieend?" (He's talking about the lady that normally works behind the desk) She answers and he responds and says something about silly-ass or crazy ass. Except he accentuates the word ass and it sounds like "ess" and then is bellowing laughter. So at this point I've caught the fast speaking jersey accent and the emphasis on funny words (keep in mind I haven't even seen him). I turn around and I was like he is sooo CA. He was tall and stocky, but not like a football player though. Not an athletic build. I could tell you he was a beautiful person, but come on now; none of us are that beautiful. He had a face like Chris Pontius with that "I used to have a pony tail Haircut" and a blondy scruffily beard. I guess the look was like those guys that you said looked like Dane Cook or something in your previous blog. I'm not saying you would elope with Mr. 7-11, but it reminded me of the episode of friends where Phoebe meets Monica's soul-mate. I talked briefly with ol boy for a minute and thought if he were to meet CA the blog would become "My Electronic Relationship..p.s. to hell with Leslie"....

..always 10

Geez, did our weekends run parallel or what? Don't get me wrong, I love my mom, but there really IS that mother daughter thing.
MOM: "Pick-up your shoes, Leslie. Pick up YOUR shoes, Leslie. PICK UP YOUR SHOES NOW LESLIE!!"
Me: I will Mom. I WILL MOM. GEEZUS, MOM I'll pick up my damn shoes!!! AAAAGGGH!

...then five minutes later

MOM: "Have you called your brother?"
Me: "No."
MOM:"Call your brother."
Me:"No, you wanna talk to him, you call."
MOM: "Fine, if you can't call your brother we're not going." Then, to further the flames-"I just can't do anything right for you can I!" And finally, she leaves the room and shuts the door. Which leaves me feeling guilty for a.yelling and b. being "disobedient."

My mom's friend says: No matter how old I get, I will be treated as if I'm 10 years old. My theory is that me and my mom are nearly the same person 33 years apart. Which is why we can't talk to each other with any sorta sympathy or compassion. She's a talker. I'm a talker. So we both just talk AT each other and don't listen.

Thank goodness I have my brother to remind me that I am ALMOST 30 and my feelings on mom will be overode by my impending mid-life crisis.

Happy Freakin Thanksgiving!

Down, but not out

Alas, I haven’t fallen off the face of the blog-o-sphere…I was just sucked into a black-hole of maddening paranoia laced with inexplicable venom A.K.A. weathering an extended Thanksgiving visit from the moms.

What is it about mothers---why do they have the insane ability to find the button to press to make you go totally apeshit (in your mind) on a dime? How can a sentence like “That lamp really doesn’t throw that much light, does it?” make you totally question every decision you’ve made in your adult life, and at the same time, want to punch a baby? A baby wearing glasses, even?

Bah. I’m actually getting better at dealing with what my brother Brian calls “The Mother-Daughter Thing, man.” Even if I did find myself spewing “WHAT are you TALKING about???” at least two dozen times this holiday weekend.

I finally sat down and watched “All the Real Girls” yesterday, and as a result have a temporary crush on Paul Schneider, who looks like Dane Cook and John C. Reilly had a baby and that’s just alright with me.

I do have to confer with the Hench, though, because I was in line at the Acme yesterday and happened upon the People magazine with Jude Law on the cover that relegedly also contained a picture of her man Gael Garcia Bernal, but in my frenzied thumbing I couldn’t find it before it was my turn to load up the conveyor belt. A disappointing end to a disappointing weekend, indeed. I thought you said it was around page 110? What’s the beef, sir? (m’am)

Where in the world is Carol Ann Sandiego?

I'm rapidly approaching being 3 blogs ahead of you. I'm going to have to write something political again to get you fired up. Perhaps we should right a commentary on what happened to those Wisconsin hunters? Sheesh, if ever there was a testimonial for stricter gun control laws! What a bunch of douchebags! HA! Or...Did you see Anna Nicole Smith on the AMA's? SNL did a great sketch about "The American Trainwreck" awards. Tina Fey is funny as hell. What about how they are thinking about doing away with Accutane because of the destructive nature of it's side effects? Well, most could probably give a *ish about that, but I actually take that pill so I'm taking a notice to it. Man I haven't felt this crazy since I put meat tenderizer by accident into my fam's pasta salad.
On well, tomorrow I'm on the road again like Willie Nelson. Seafish is growing angry with me, I've promised her (my car for those outta the loop) oil for the 2nd time without paydirt. Hopefully (fingers crossed) my brother will come back with me so I won't have to make the journey again by my lonesome.
Happy Thanksgiving All

pffew...

The message of the past two weeks, at least around me, has been "talk about it, it will make you feel better..." ---

So my uncle died last week. I went expecting to go to a funeral, but was actually a memorial service. Upon learning of his impending situation; he decided it would be best to be cremated. I've had mixed feelings about the whole thing. My mom and her brothers and sisters have been going through a roller coaster for two weeks and "a funeral" might have been a bit more than anyone could have handled. I think with funerals it's the fact that that person is there before you, even if only in body. You can't help but feel they are going to get up and start behaving as if they were sleeping quietly waiting for their mourners to slip past and wake them up.

The preacher didn't know my uncle at all which made me kinda feel weird about him telling everybody there how he "was". And it made me sad then his entire life's acheivements were summed up in less than a paragraph:...."he donated 8 gallons of blood to the red cross"; "John ran track in high school", "John served his country",
"John liked pickles", "John worked for 20 years at some factory"..

Then the preacher asked people to stand up and share memories of my uncle. About 5 out of 120 some people spoke. Of which were two of his sisters, a high school coach, and a second or third cousin. My mom was one of the two sisters. I've have never been more proud of her for standing up and speaking for her brother. I love my mom for saying that: he was a little boy, he was a teenager, he was a soldier, a man graduating college, a man getting married, and a father.

She's brave in ways I can only hope to be at some point. I couldn't help but think, if this was me; who would speak? Who among the masses of people that you come into contact with would have the courage to say how they really and truly feel about the person they are saying good-bye to?

After the services, the church had made a huge feast for the family. I seen cousins that I didn't even know were my cousins and re-introduced myself to family that I had forgot, but that hadn't forgot me. This part was, in it's own way; kinda happy. It was like loosing one member and gaining 20. I can only hope in the years that come, that we get together for celebrations rather than losses.

I think I'll close with that thought. Now on to lighter fares again..

Well, Carol Ann I think....

1. I think that red wine enthusiasts have never been on food stamps.
2. I think that if you are talented enough to get a full day's worth of work done in a half day, then you need to get a new job.
3. I think that my IPOD is "God's Machine".
4. I think that by meerly assessing Cheeto's caloric content alone, they can indeed be counted as a full dinner.
5. I think that ODB is going to heaven also. I mean; he interupted Shawn Colvin's grammy award speech to tell us that Wu-Tang is for "the children."
6. I think that romantic love is easy.
7. I think All My Children is the bomb-diggy. Where else can you hear phrases like "Of course you are attracted to me; you're a man. I'm Erica Kane."
8. I think your boyfriend is average.

You did ask for it after all. :)

I THINK

1. I think that red wine enthusiasts don't really like red wine as much as they say they do.

2. I think that if you are talented enough to get done what your boss might consider to be a full day's worth of work before noon, you should be free to go.

3. I think that TiVo is indeed, as I read it today referred to as, "God's machine".

4. I think Cheetos CAN count as dinner.

5. I think that ODB is going to heaven, if only for bringing the world such profound prose as "I don't have a problem with you fucking me, I have a little problem with you not fucking me."

6. I think romantic love is overrated.

7. I think Days of Our Lives is not so much a cheesy soap opera that employs preposterous storylines and embarrassing CGI, but more of a cautionary tale about what can happen when everyone in your town is somehow related.

8. I think your boyfriend is a fantastic human being. Really!

When the pawn.....

No Make-up NO Magic...
This morning I got up at 6:30. God knows I shoulda been up at 6. It's like even though I know I need at least an hour and a critical half to get ready for work I can't resist playing that danger card every day. I mean I really COULD get to work at 8 vs. 8:05 or say 8:15 but then my employers would come to expect it and we wouldn't want that would we? It's gotten so now I consider myself early when I'm actually just ON TIME.

So after shambling around, it's time for the next key decision. Do I wanna look foxy or just decent? I'm not really sure at this point why I should even wear clothes at all seeing as how no one really sees me except E, my co-designer. Everyone here (work) is married or too old to even consider as someone to impress. *Let me clarify - as someone to impress aesthically not professionally.

My IMAC is sexy though. I have the hottest computer in the whole building. Eat your heart out P.C. devotees. My IPOD is even sexier. I actually grew annoyed last week that someone wanted to go walking with me on my lunch break. Just simply because then I could not be alone with my IPOD. How dare them?

I digress. I decide I look decent today which means I grab the huge parachute-like dress outfit which is just well..too big. It doesn't compliment or accentuate anything - it's just comfy. You know the type that says I'm just "okay".

When I actually role in at 8:13 (my latest to date barring a doctor's apt.) I realize that I am only decent because I normally at least get a generic "nice coat" compliment. Today I gets nones.

Controversy erupts from one of our conference rooms because; now get ready for this, gasp: Someone has eaten 3 of the sandwiches meant for vendors (aka new clients or old important ones). HR sets out looking for the criminal so they can take them to the town center and shackle them in irons. I'm sad because the villain gets away with it and I'm not able to throw any old lettuce.

My brother calls me and work and says in his low drone "What'r u dooin?" Doing actually sounds more like "dune" seeing as how he is: A. from the country and B. half asleep. I think, "Gee seeing as how it's 2 o'clock and a Wednesday, I am AT WORK" . But really, does it matter if you're at work anymore with phone calls and family?

Marcia calls me for IT consultation sometime later. Her IT department..gasp..is made up of a series of P.C. gurus who know how to help the systems as a whole, but have no concept of how to help with MAC based design programs. I'm not bashing the P.C., but it's starting to be like English as a second language. I can cross over. Technicians need to make the cross to. At least if they want their newspapers to look any sorta decent.

It's nearing the end of the work day now and I'm listening to some music I borrowed a few weeks ago and half to give back..it's that Fiona Apple cd.. with the long title that starts..when the pawn blah.. blah.. blah....

Off the top of my head: “The magic is in the make-up”

Historically, I’d never been a big make-up person. Not quite Tootie, not exactly Blair (as if!) I just sort of was. That is until Halloween of my sophomore year at ODU. This was during the Golden Age of NN8, when wall-scrawling was plentiful and drunken harassment of passersby far below our ivory/grey tower was the rule. My dysfunctional family of roommates took a trip out to find our costumes & otherwise run amuck in the vicinity of Military Highway, when, in Old Navy, Kristin shouted from somewhere in the store, “MER!” (that was me) “You’re going to be a girl for Halloween!” We bought a sexy stripey sweater, some black pants & black clunky shoes, and the transformation was made. I slapped on some make-up and learned that this new uniform could really work to my advantage.

The title of this entry really should be “The magic is in the black pants”. There was a time when I really did believe that have black pants, will have an outrageously fantastic evening, one which could very possibly end up with one of your good friends splayed out in the doorway to your bedroom demonstrating kung-fu ala Jet Li and lamenting their rap skills inferior to those of Biggie*.

The uniform totally changed my outlook on social interaction. If you believe you are foxy, then you are. John Lennon once said “The Beatles were the best fucking band in the world, and believing it made it so.” (or something like that, but the message remains the same). It’s not that I kept myself shut up with my 78 cats and a tube of cookie dough before I discovered the power of the black pants, My outlook on socializing just sort of morphed. Why not be nice to that girl in the unfortunately fur-lined shirt that’s standing next to you at the bar? You might need her to let you cut in the bathroom line later, and then you’ll never see her again. Ooh, which leads me to yet another sub-theory. Being nice to strange club-goers should apply to your own personal assets. Sure, your big ass looks fine in your comfy old jeans, but why not give it (and your legs) a chance to shine in the black pants? Those gi-normous boobs you’ve been hiding for the greater part of your youth? Let ‘em free for a night! You know you’re not a whore, so why not smoke ‘em if you got ‘em?

How many clichés can I fit into one entry? I’m going to stop now. I think we’ve cured the block. Happy Tuesday!*Yes, I’ve told this, one of my very favorite Leslie stories many times before, and I’ll do it again, dammit. It’s just that classic. (To me)

Planes, Ships, and Automobiles

Last Wednesday was the first time I'd ever flown in my life. After removing my belt, bracelets, jacket, shoes, earrings AND necklace I was allowed to leave Nofo. The flight was good. I only felt like I was going to die twice and was left without hearing for only 2 hours.
I'm going to do the rest of the Florida Vacation as a multiple choice test. If you know me at all you can probably guess the answers.

Vacations are:
A. a way to feel good about being a glutton and laying on your ass for an entire week
B. an adventure to a place you would never get to go on a regular trip
C. a wild trip into the psyche of Salsa music
D. All of the above

People in Florida are:
A. Not American
B. All American
C. None of the above

In the left lane of traffic in Florida you are supposed to:
A. Drive faster than the right
B. Drive frightfully slower than the right
C. Park your car and look for Alligators.

A time share vacation package is:
A. a quick way to get a cheap trip to another state and have some fun
B. a good educational experience
C. a hellish foray into the land of vacation real estate and perversion of moral values

My favorite thing at Universal Studios was:
A. Pushing children outta MY WAY to take a picture with the X-MEN
B. Cutting shamelessy through the line to ride the Dueling Dragons roller coaster
C. Forcing Tonya to ride the Jurassic Park water ride by making her wear a poncho
D. Putting SALSA on a hamburger
E. Yelling obscenities at the ghost of Atlantis
F. All of the Above

On the cruise boat I:
A. had a series of meaningless affairs with strange men
B. got drunk and went to sleep
C. went snorkeling and inhaled sea water
D. was searched THOUROUGHLY by a customs officer

When I layed out in the sun in the Bahamas I:
A. Tanned
B. Burned
C. Actually got whiter and was bit by a mutant mosquito

On a riverboat cruise through Ft. Lauderdale (Miami), I
A. met a white woman with black hair extensions
B. danced the YMCA with senior citizens
C. was nearly cast from the boat after accepting a Miller from a cruise-mate

Overall the trip was:
A. an exploration into the hedonistic values of Americans
B. stressful
C. Donde' esta' el bano?
D. Fun
E. All of the above.........

Give me a call peeps..we'll talk
L

yay! 

Vacation...

In a feeble attempt to not think about my own life and problems for a week, I'm heading to the sunny land of Florida. That's right dead-beat daddies, Beware!! I couldn't have picked a better time seemingly seeing as how our country's future hangs in the balance of the 90 year olds working the polls at the overcrowded elementary school today. 5 days of Ft. Lauderdale 2 days of the Bahamas! I wish everyone could be with me this year.
T my non-electronic best friend had a dream a returned from FLA. A "different" person. Just exactly how, she could not explain. A lady in the election line gave me her business card and said she saw something positive in me. Weird ehh?
Seems like a surreal day. Maybe I'll give her a call. If I don't come back everyone we'll know I'm at Hogwarts or something.
SEE U IN A WEEK!
L

English Minor

English minor means knowing the correct way to write, but choosing not to be correct.
L

Halloween Sux!

Man, Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. It meant scary movies, cold wind, falling leaves, and getting sick from Candy. Over time (college), it just got better. Add the earlier meanings plus beer, depravity, and sacrificing comfort for "cool". Post college a different story-it means women in lingerie with animal ears, naughty school girls, and older people that have stayed waaaay too long at the party.
Last year, I vowed to have a real costume. So I was a wizard. It was a gorgeous outfit for an elementary school teacher. Even the most astute Harry Potter Fan would've been impressed. When I got to "the club" I felt like the school girl with the wedgie at the public pool.
This years resolutions were different. Buy EARLY. Look HOT. BE the character. If only I woulda listened to myself. To make long story short-I spent 2 hours in Party City. Ended up with HUGE BIRD WINGS..*hey don't be down on them..they were pretty and I was desperate. Not to mention the social anxiety disorder that develops when you are around other desperate people. * I did NOT look hot. I resembled a crow or night vulture of some sort. My makeup melted in the heat of the club. My hair was a huge immobile thing due to heavy concentrations of hair paint spray. The more I touched it to "fix" it the worse it got. By the way, friends only tell you "it looks alright" when it looks like a piece o crap. They wanna look better than you anyway. True friends laugh at the pitiful hair gel monster you've become. As for being "Dark Angel"--how bout "Drunk Angel". A lady tried to pull my wings off. And lets just say there was a greeting with someone that went horribly wrong. Sometimes a kiss on the cheek to say hello is NOT THE RIGHT introduction. Loyal readers..call me for the skinny.
Next year I'm being myself. Eating candy and watching scary movies.