To my friends: I love you...

But what I really want to do is vote, then leave the country and not come back until long after the election, and not speak to ANY of you. I understand you do NOT agree with me politically, and although I have not lost any respect or consideration that I have for you, there is no way I am going to agree with you. Regardless of the economical issues, I can't bring myself to vote for someone who goes against my morals in such a way that Obama does. I don't understand your constant need to defend yourself to me, to render anything I have to say as "stupid" or "ignorant," although I haven't done anything of the sort to you. Whether you agree with me or not, let me say what I want to say. If you think it's stupid, leave it at that and keep your mouth shut. Lord knows that's what I've done every time you have something to say about your preferences. It's sad that everyone seems to soak up the media like a rotten sponge, no matter what side is shown. I'm pro-life and anti-euthanasia. Obama is not. As for the idea of higher taxes for the "uber-rich," what I want to know is, why should those who have been successful be punished and made to pay for those who aren't, for whatever reason? I don't believe this is the answer to the improvement of the economy. No, I don't make $250K, but I plan on working hard and eventually reaching that level and beyond. I've seen those that are poor and living off of what the government gives them. Technically, I work for them. Let me tell you something...the last thing they need are more handouts. There are people that truly need it and I will not deny that. But I refuse to dependent upon the government with every fiber of my being. I will not be taken to that level.
So, my friends, I love you, but this is how I feel. It's more than voting with my pocketbook or my rosary. Vote for the person you like the best, and leave me to do the same.

I paid $80 for it; I can call it whatever I want!

I recently made a rather disturbing purchase. Well, maybe it's not so much "disturbing" as it is a radically new move for me. I never really thought I'd buy one, but it's really not such a bad idea. What is it? I bought a girdle. That's right - a beige creation that stretches from just below my bra to the middle of my thighs that must have been fashioned out of what could only be NASA-grade materials. When I set out to buy it, I figured my ideal body shaper would start at my ankles and work its way up like a tube of toothpaste so that I would just end up with a FANTASTIC rack (not that my rack isn't fantastic already). Alas, no one carried what I wanted short of a wetsuit, and wetsuits don't necessarily make one's boobs look good. (And how would I use the bathroom?) I did find something interesting, though. I'm going to call it a girdle because I think it's funny. Correct me all you want. It may really be called a "body shaper," or more commercially, "Spanx," but refer to the title of this post for my comment on that. I did pay $80 for it, after taxes and all. Estimated time for assembly: 15 minutes, or what felt like a lifetime. I needed MORAL support to get this sucker on. But the result? A sleeker me! The fat wasn't gone, but visibly diminished. My sharp curves were all smoothed out. Nice. Worth the 1/7 of my paycheck, after taxes. I wore it to a wedding this past weekend, one at which I really felt that I had to look good. As a test run, I wore it for a full day at work. It wasn't uncomfortable, but I nearly got a UTI since I was so scared of using the bathroom with the thing on. It did, however, improve my posture, and the next evening it looked just wonderful with the dress I wore. Conclusion? Girdles are GREAT. Girdles are magic. Girdles are....expensive. And if your mom really loves you, she'll help you in the bathroom of the reception hall so you can...um...go.

Stranded

Because of the recent strand of hurricanes in the Southeast and the Gulf area, the supply of gasoline to the region, mainly Georgia (since it is the largest state east of the Mississippi), has been strained if not cut off entirely. From what I have noticed, nine out of ten gas stations are out of service. I've been able to ride it out for the most part, until tonight. I had a little less than a quarter of a tank when I came to work this morning. I probably should have put a little in either then or on my lunch hour. But I didn't. Mea culpa, mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
I waited in line after work for over 30 minutes at the Kroger station, barely moving, only to find out they had sold all they had. I figured I'd have enough to get home. I was wrong. I probably would have had enough to go home, but it wasn't enough to register with my computerized fuel injection system to start my car. Rats.
I am therefore stuck here at my best friend's house. Not a bad place to be stuck, mind you, but the situation stinks. Oh well...another day, another chance.

The Big Chill

I am getting the cold shoulder from my mother. I suppose I should enjoy it, but it is, to say the least, unnerving. I didn't want to go home after work, so I came to my friend's house, where I was plied with dinner, cheap wine, and promises of a catnap. Yet it has been four hours since I left the office, and not a single call from my mother OR my father trying to findout where I am. I guess since I am 25 years old it shouldn't matter, but I generally let them know where I am. Ever since last night's events, which only got worse after my previous post, I haven't been scrambling for the phone with any eagerness to speak to my mother. Does me not calling her to tell her where I am make me equally guilty?
I guess my reasoning behind this is to show my mom that I'm not the "spoiled, ungrateful little bitch" she seems to think I am. I don't know if she even gets that what she said really hurts. I'm not "given" everything like she says I am. I pay for everything on my own except rent. I buy my own food, pay for my own medical and insurance expenses, and don't cause any trouble. My room may be messy, but I don't bother anyone, and I'm not out getting drunk every night. I have good friends and a halfway decent job that I show up to every day. I generally let both of my parents know where I am and what I'm doing (within reason) each day. I really don't understand why she acts like this toward me. Menopause, perhaps?
Maybe we'll be over it in a few weeks or days, but for right now, I don't really want anything to do with her.

A Fine Line...

My best friend and her fiance are both visiting for a week, and so far I've had a great time. I really, really missed having her around, and I don't feel so...friendless. And they brought two fourteen-week-old shih tzu puppies to boot! Too cute...
All the same, my mom decides she wants to invite them over for dinner tonight, puppies and all. No problem, right? It was very nice idea. Yet, after dinner, she lays into me, telling me I am rude and a bitch, and in short, just plain nasty. Why? Because I wouldn't let her read my email. The email is question was from her sister, letting me know she didn't want me to visit her this year. I'll blog about that bullsh*t later. I told her what the email said, in a nutshell, but because I wouldn't read it to her, word for word, she says I'm a bitch. All of this with my friends within earshot. I clammed up. I figured it would be better not to say anything at all rather than be truly disrespectful to her, especially not in front of others. Usually she doesn't start picking on me until my friends leave. That didn't really change either, because as soon as the door shut after I showed them out, she started again, telling me I "have a real problem" and that she just doesn't understand what is wrong with me. So after I ironed my father's shirts for the week, I went to bed, with her making remarks as I am walking up the stairs. She even accused me of being upset because she invited my friends over, as if I were jealous or something. I could care less who asked them over; I was glad to have them there. I just knew that if I said anything I would only make it worse.
So it's a Catch-22 then?

Vices

This is bad. Really bad. I can't stop thinking about food. The more I think about exercising and eating better, cutting back on my intake, etcetera, the more I think about FOOD. Then when I think about food, I get cravings. I love watching Travel Channel and Food Network, and while that doesn't necessarily drive me directly to a craving attack, it does put the food on the brain.
I know I can do this, but why does my mind have to work against me?

Heaven

I cooked for a couple of friends last night, and I made something so good, I just have to share the recipe. It was so sublime, and I truly felt proud of myself for making it. It may seem like alot of work, but really it's just time. It's easy to make, and well worth the wait.

Pomodori al Forno

Ingredients
1 cups (or more) olive oil, divided
2 pounds plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise, seeded
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
3/4 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 to 2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons minced fresh Italian parsley
Aged goat cheese (such as Bûcheron)
1 baguette, thinly sliced crosswise, toasted
INGREDIENT TIP/ Alta Cucina canned plum tomatoes are available online from sciabica.com.
Preparation
Preheat oven to 250°F. Pour 1/2 cup oil into 13x9x2-inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Arrange tomatoes in dish, cut side up. Drizzle with remaining 1/2 cup oil. Sprinkle with oregano, sugar, and salt. Bake 1 hour. Using tongs, turn tomatoes over. Bake 1 hour longer. Turn tomatoes over again. Bake until deep red and very tender, transferring tomatoes to plate when soft (time will vary, depending on ripeness of tomatoes), about 15 to 45 minutes longer.
Layer tomatoes in medium bowl, sprinkling garlic and parsley over each layer; reserve oil in baking dish. Drizzle tomatoes with reserved oil, adding more if necessary to cover. Let stand at room temperature 2 hours. DO AHEAD Cover; chill up to 5 days. Bring to room temperature before serving.
Serve with aged goat cheese and toasted baguette slices.


I got it out of this month's Bon Appetit, and I'm including the link:
http://www.bonappetit.com/magazine/2008/09/pomodori_al_forno

Enjoy, ya'll!

Again.

So, I've been stood up again.

Again.

This makes it once a month steadily since March.

And you wonder why I feel the way I do?

Giving up...again.

This one's going to be short and sweet. Or not sweet. I changed my blog address for the reasons I described in my last entry...totally wasn't expecting to have to do that.
I've been finding myself just wanting to sleep. I wake up and just want to go back to bed. I think I need to shake things up, so I'm giving something a try and moving my gym time to the morning. I know this may not seem like much, but it might just be enough to get me out of this rut I'm in. I mean, it couldn't be bad for me, right?
It didn't work out with the guy. It's not beyond repair, but I've pretty much accepted that nothing further will come of it. Hence the blog title.
I've had a very interesting job opportunity. I want to say more, but I am really superstitious as far as jinxes so....more to come when I know more. Let's just say it would take me far - very far- away.

Keeping Tabs

Many of you know about my crappy ex-boyfriend. I don't have any regrets, but me getting back together with him (the first time, back in 2002) will forever be recognized as one of my stupidest moves ever. Still, a necessary error, and I learned alot about myself by looking back on what a dumbshit I was with him. I'm finally cured of my dependency on him, and have been doing everything I can to move on to a healthier state of being. For once I feel like no matter what, I will never want him back. I remember before, telling myself that if he were to ever come back, "changes would have to be made," but I now know with 110% certainty that nothing he could ever do would make me want him again. So if I'm done, what's the big deal? Here's my issue: He has constantly been checking up on me, e-stalking me, if you will. He visits my other blog (which is pretty much just full of bullshit now, just random thoughts or song lyrics I might like) and my MySpace page at least once, normally twice, a day. He doesn't IM me, email me, call me, or text me, nor do I have any desire for him to do so. I guess it shouldn't bother me, but it does. What the hell does he want from me? Does he want to know if I'm miserable without him? Does he want to know if I'm seeing someone? Does he just want to make sure I'm ok? Or is it just that he wants to assure himself that I'll always love him (a promise I made years ago that I have long since broken, and happily so)? I'm struggling with the desire to confront him, to ask him what the hell he wants, and would he be so kind as to leave me the fuck alone. Part of me says, "Screw it, he's your past, who cares? Say whatever you want," but the rest of me (and I don't know if this is the sensible or neurotic side) says, "No, that's putting more uneccesary effort into that shithead than you should." I know most people shouldn't complain about their exes, to show that they are grown up and beyond all that childish BS, but he's constantly butting into something that I wish he'd just stay out of.
I could delete the blog, and I could make my MySpace page private, but I don't want to do that. I don't have to. I have nothing to hide, and that old blog would be like throwing out an old diary. Why should I have to change just because he can't get over me?

The Waiting Game

I know I've talked about this before, and maybe it just seems more present since I'm single, but it seems like everyone around me is getting married. My best and longest friend is already married, and my other best friend will be married in about a year. I went to a bridal shower yesterday (for someone younger than me), and I'm surrounded by photos of friends (via Facebook) who have just gotten married or engaged! I know that everything happens in its own time, but somehow I can't shake this nagging feeling that there's something I'm missing out on. And I don't even know if it's something I want or something that's meant for me!

I need to get out of this house and DO something. I do not like being patient.

So it's not me it's...him?

Actually, it's HER. I don't even know her, but I am sure plenty of other women have met her or had to deal with her: The Ex-Girlfriend. We've also all been her at some point. I sure know I have. Yet until you're seeing it as "the New Girl" with someone you really, really like, you don't really think about it. I could tell something was wrong. Call it a hunch, call it "woman's intuition," call it whatever you want. I just say it's self-education after years of developed disinterest. And this time I wasn't wrong, just slightly off the mark. (Still...not wrong...just go with it...) It's not that he's lost interest in me; he's still just as interested as he always has been (at least I hope so!). It's just that she keeps on calling him and it's frustrating him. I begin to wonder, "Was I ever that girl?" With a wave of embarrassment I realize that yes, I was that girl, albeit with only one guy (and he deserved it). One never realizes the effect they can have on others involved rather than just the intended individual. Now all I'm praying is that she'll wise up and do what I did: move on and go away.

Huh?

He makes me happy. He kisses my hands when he holds them. I catch him looking at me in the movies. He texts me to tell me he is thinking of me, and always to tell me good morning and good night. So when I haven't been able to see him for a week, just because of our schedules, and he stops texting that often, should I really be as alarmed as I feel? I'm confused and a little scared, to be honest, and I really don't want to be burned again, especially by who I think is a good one...

Does it take a fall?

Trust is a funny thing. One would think it was more cut-and-dry than this. Someone lies to you, one way or another, and that's it. You can't trust them at all. Once you get away from them, you'd think you could start anew. Clean slate. Carte blanche. But no, sometimes the damage is so bad that it carries over with new people. Can you learn to trust again on your own? Is that possible? Or do you always need someone else to show you how? Can you wake up one morning and just decide, "OK, I'm good," and let someone in to your heart? Or will someone always pay, in one way or another, for someone else's mistakes?

I think I can, I think I can....I just won't.

I cannot take this anymore. It seems like the new management has pre-decided that she doesn't like any of the current employees and that we're all pretty much worthless. We're on a supposed "30 day probation," which in my opinion is bullshit. My thing is, if you don't like my performance, tell me so that I can improve. The new manager has even said "Don't come to me with a problem unless you have a solution to suggest," so why can't we have the same courtesy applied to us? Also, how can you change around everything we're doing, basically making us re-learn our jobs, as well as giving us more responsibilities, and expect immediate optimum performance? Aside from that, I'm having a conscience problem. My job is basically to promote a product which I feel is inferior. Granted, I do get customers that know exactly what they are buying and are content with that, but I can't push something and lie to someone when I know it's not true.
I can't work in an environment like this any longer, but I'm no quitter. Not only that, I know how sketchy it looks to quit a job before you have one. So what do I do? I'd leave properly, with notice and all. I wouldn't just walk out or not show up, although I am tempted every day on an hourly basis. Those of you with more "real world" experience than I have, what would you do? It's soaking up my sanity and it's affecting every aspect of my life. I don't know what to do.

Like banging my head on a brick wall...I went to school for this?

I keep telling myself that all this is happening for a reason, but I have no idea what that reason is. Day by day I lose a little bit more of my sanity, and I'm forgetting how to build it back up again. Is this what I'm supposed to be taught? Mother Teresa once said, "I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he didn't trust me so much." Is that what this is? I feel like a total idiot, like there's something I should be able to do about this, but it's just not taking. It also feels like the more I want something, the more it guarantees me that it won't happen. Why? Someone please just put me out of my misery NOW.

Edit

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. There. I said it. Fuck.

I'm agreeing with you Ashley, and I'm the wrong person for support.

Blondies/Brownies, beware!

*grumble*

I've had an interesting weekend. I guess I should be feeling ok. I got to see my best friend who came down from Illinois, and made some of the best fried chicken I've ever had (even though it was a little undercooked...thank God for microwaves). I laughed so hard last night I nearly choked on a green bean. And, the best part is that I don't have to be at work until Wednesday! But I can't seem to focus on all that good stuff. I can only think about the crap. I spent $60+ on liquor and drank maybe $2 of it. A really cool salsa t-shirt that I bought barely fits one of my boobs, let alone both of them (Women's XL, my ass!). I can't afford what I'd like to, and the jobs seem even harder to find than when I had just graduated. I feel like I've been left hanging.
I know I talked about the power of prayer in my last post, and I now see that the hardest thing is keeping up faith and hope when you feel like your prayers just aren't being heard. I just have to keep in my head that it will all work out eventually. Either that or write it on a little note card and keep it in my pocket.

Shit. I think my allergies are kicking in. Why? It's JULY!!!

Power of Prayer

I've started to pray the St. Joseph Novena. I'm not an overly religious person, but I often find myself turning to prayer when I don't know what else to do. I don't know if it's a superstition thing or what. To me, it's more powerful than that. When I feel there is nothing left I can do in a particular situation, I pray. I've been doing more and more of it lately as well.
I began the St. Joseph Novena two days ago. Acutally, four days. I started, then forgot the second day, and had to start over.

************************
NINE-DAYS NOVENA TO ST. JOSEPH

(Note: This prayer was found in the 50th year of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. In 1505, it was sent by the Pope to Emperor Charles when he was going into battle. It is said that whoever shall read this prayer or take it with them, shall never die a sudden death or be drowned, nor shall poison take effect on them; neither shall they fall into the hands of the enemy, or shall be burned in any fire or shall be overpowered in battle.)

Say this prayer for nine days for anything you may desire. Then let go and let God. Trust that whatever is the outcome of your novena is truly what is best for you in accordance with the will of God.)

O Saint Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires.

O Saint Joseph, assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, Our Lord; so that having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Fathers.

O Saint Joseph, I never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me, and ask Him to return the Kiss when I draw my dying breath. Amen

O Saint Joseph, hear my prayers and obtain my petitions. O Saint Joseph, pray for me. (Mention your intention)
************************

From what I have been told, it's a powerful prayer. My father prayed it every day while he was in Vietnam, and came home without a scratch. I also know both of my parents prayed it so we could sell the house in Virginia back in 1992, and here we are. I've never been able to remember to pray it for nine mornings, so I guess what I have wanted to pray for in the past wasn't that important. At the same time, I know that it can be just as much of a blessing having prayers unanswered. I know that what I want isn't always what's supposed to happen.
So it's the second day, and I'm seeing changes already. Part of what I am praying for is closure, and the strength to get my ex-boyfriend out of my life, since I don't see my relationship with him as healthy. It's part of what is keeping me stagnant, and I want so much to go forward. Well, yesterday, I finally found the strength to delete him from everything I have: my phone, my computer, online. I finally told him I was done, and I finally feel it.
The power of prayer is to feel the small changes. They are tiny in the grand scope of things, but enormous to me. For once, I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Kryptonite...

What? What's this?
You know, for the longest time, I thought I was invincible. I thought I was damaged and hurt to the point of numbness. I thought I had built this wall strong enough.
But as much as it frightens me, I think I may be developing feelings for someone. And I think what scares me the most is the idea of opening myself to getting hurt. But for this one, I think I may be ready. I can't say that one word, though...

From one breath to the next...

I have never been so happy for a day off. I have been thinking, as I search for a new job, of what the corporate cronies could do to make the property better. First, give all of us in the office a raise. Secondly, try to do what we do for just one day. They ask for us to get a certain amount of things done in a day, which is fine, but I think they don't understand just what we go through on a daily basis. The amount of foot traffic we get, and phone calls, makes it very hard to get other things done. Taking care of the tasks at hand doesn't leave much time for alot of our paperwork, as much as it needs to be done. I don't think more people need to be hired; things are crowded enough as it is. But maybe if they stepped in our shoes for just one day, they'd get it, and maybe help us handle it better. That's why they get paid the big bucks, right?

Also, anyone know of any good avenues for job searches?

Nicaragua: Day Two

It's the second day of the hostile takeover. Needless to say, it's been thoroughly exhausting. It's like re-learning everything that's been drilled into my brain for the last four to five months. What I'm most afraid of is the corporate people not liking me, or finding out what I've been fearing and avoiding for the last, well, four to five months: I'm no good at this. I'm praying that they won't hold the fact that I suck at this against me and just assume I wasn't taught well. All I can do for now is keep the trepidation to myself, show a good attitude, and keep moving forward, since it IS my job (for now).
I still don't know the exact reason for the managerial removal. I guess that it's mainly because the property wasn't moving in the direction that they owners wanted it to go, and they didn't feel the person in place was doing what was necessary. Well, obviously, since there were shootings and all. The thing is, with the rental rates being what they are, the kind of people that are attracted aren't the best kind. (There's a statement that's got to break at least one Fair Housing rule.) We'll see. So far, it's OK, just crazy.
On a less-stressful note, I'm off tomorrow, and indulging in a day at the spa, thanks to my Economic Stimulus check. And I don't think I'll answer the phone until I return to work on Thursday.

And Taking Names....

I think I now know what a coup d'etat feels like. I was sitting in my office, merrily (ok, maybe not merrily) working away, and a coworker comes in, whispering hurriedly, "Ronan's here...that's Ronan!" Our corporate honcho had arrived, accompanied by several of his cronies, a few of which I had never met. Something big was going down. I didn't think too much of it, since we'd had several corporate visits, both surprise and planned, in the past month or so. We'd been working hard and brushing up and trying to improve, and for a while I thought we were dong well. Next thing I know, my boss is leaving the office with one of the corporo-cronies. That was the last time I saw her. About thirty minutes later, I was informed that she had been "removed" from her position. Tension was thick in the air, tension that I still feel right now, even at home in my room. I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. I know that these corporate individuals (All seven of them. Yeah. Seven.) will be here until further notice. It's like the interim government coming in to take control until the new regime is properly established. I feel like....like....like a small South American country, actually.
This invasion may work out in our favor, though. I'll get new training. Hopefully we'll clean out some of the trash, and I mean that literally and figuratively. It's gotten to where I don't feel safe at work. There have been at least three situations in which guns were involved. I've left buildings and immediately smelled weed. In asking the residents to clean up after themselves, all I get is attitude and insults. I do not know what is going to happen. And I am not sure I want to stick around long enough to find out. This is not a career; it's merely a job. A job that's become a catalyst for me to get a new job.
All I can say is, I can't wait for my day off on Wednesday.

And the Saga continues...

I'm thinking that there's so much going on at work, I should just make it into a epic tale. A Tale of Woe, if you will...well, sort of. And I'll give it a title. Something like, "The Adventures and Misadventures of PostGrad in an Uneducated World." Nice ring, don't you think?

Chapter One: PostGrad the Enforcer
It's summertime, and the kiddies are out of school. What to do, what to do? I know! Let's go up to the leasing office and play with the water cooler! I know that a plague of summer vacation can often be chronic boredom. But with everything that's on TV, and the boundless capacities of a child's imagination, shouldn't one be able to find something to do? However, since parents here are nothing like what they used to be and seem to take no interest in what their children do, even though they may be sitting at home collecting a check (and dust), we've had to institute a rule that no child can be in the office without a parent. No more free cookies, no more water cooler games. I actually saw a kid trying to steal twenty four teabags from the coffee bar, not realizing I had a perfect view of what he was doing. I just want to scream, "Where are your parents? GO HOME!"
Then, later this afternoon, as I was walking a key over to the other side of the property, I hear someone's sound system blasting the music out. How generous of this individual, I think, to share his or her music with the better part of the CSRA! This, however, is not a nightclub. I walk over to the car, tap on the window, and kindly ask the guy to turn the music down, telling him that this was "a residential area." God, that felt good.
What have we learned from all this? Give PostGrad a little power, she becomes a Nazi.

Ain't she cute...

I haven't been to the gym in a week. Over a week. Between work craziness and my mom's surgery, I haven't had the desire. I know I keep saying I need to just go, no talking myself into it or out of it, just go, but last week was just too much. At one point, I went nearly 72 hours without sleep, and when my mom was in the hospital, I spent my free time there and not the YMCA.
In the meantime I'm on a cleaning kick - my room, my bathroom, my brother's room (it's become storage). I never realized just how much junk I have. It's going to be a bitch when I move out. And on that note, I'm still looking for other jobs. It's becoming more and more apparent that this is not a job I want for much longer. I don't regret the experience, but I can't take the environment. We can't get anything done because we're too busy battling the daily vandalism, the bad attitudes, the crime, both petty and not-so-petty. I don't feel safe there, and I'm a pretty tough chick. Even the little kids there are horrible. I feel more like SuperNanny (a name which they're actually started calling me around the office) rather than WonderLeaser. Fortunately I have been able to remain calm and professional through everything, but I am not being paid enough to have to put up with this crap.

*UPDATE*
Yet another PostGrad Shock: First Summer Vacation with a Full Time Job. 'Nuff said.

Now this is an issue...

I am not quite sure why, but I find myself moving into a pattern whenever I am slightly broke and am awaiting a paycheck. I window-shop online. Not only that, I plan out all the things I might have denied myself during the period of broke-ness. It's like a countdown to the possibility of impulse-buying, sort of. For one, I seriously need a pedicure. Even more than that, my eyebrows are starting to look like caterpillars. I start thinking of all the things I can do with the money after I pay my bills. (Hey, at least I figure in bill paying to the equation.) However, it's getting to be such a habit that I'm starting to wonder if it's not a little unhealthy. For what am I trying to compensate? I guess I'm just trying to figure it out before it goes too far and I don't even have bill money anymore.

Ergh.

But if this is the biggest one of my problems, I should just consider myself lucky!

Aha!

Bourdain is a genius. A bullshit-free wordsmith, a laid-back badass. The person I could never be, but whose trail I am more than eagerly following. Not to mention sexy as hell, and totally not my type. Most of the places to which he travels I wouldn't go myself, but I feel like he brings them to me through his writing and his televised experiences.
What's all this about? Well, I found an episode of "No Reservations" I haven't seen yet. God bless the Travel Channel.
Enough waxing poetic.

I've been doing well with my workouts. I'm finally starting to see a few changes in my body. I'm eating better, and less. My only thing is, I seem to find days in the week that I just don't want to work out (other than the weekends). In fact, I'm more likely to go work out on a Saturday or Sunday than, say, a Monday. I want to, just for one week, to go five days in a row. I've discovered how much I like swimming, and that it seems to give me a good workout in less time than just doing the treadmill and weights.
And another discovery: Healthy Choice Meals. Not too bad. Not entirely devoid of taste, but they do the trick and keep me from eating alot of crap. The Beef Merlot in the "Cafe Steamer" variety was actually pretty damn good, and almost too much food! My friends always tell me that it surprises them just how little I really do eat. I don't know whether that's like a veiled insult or not. ("Geez, you look like you would eat so much more! Like, a whole buffet, perhaps? You sure you don't want more?") It doesn't take much to get me full, and trust me, it SUCKS. I love food. I wish I could eat more. But that would be totally counterproductive. Rats.

*sigh*

I probably should NOT have driven home tonight. Oh well...Who cares?

Mother's Day?

I guess every female is open to it, but on the second Sunday of each May, someone always seems to wish me a "Happy Mother's Day." But that's the thing: I'm not a mother. I'd said, "Thank you, but I'm not a mother," but eventually just shortened it to "Thank you." To get irritated is really just silly; how would anyone know whether I am a mother or not? When I told someone I wasn't a mother, she said, "Well, you're a sister or a niece or a cousin, and that's what the day is about." Really? Is it? Wouldn't that take away from the general idea? If it were about that, then it would be "Female Family Member Day." Hold on, let me email Hallmark and see what cards they can come up with. I bet you they could market it.
Beyond that, it makes me think. Do I really want to be a mother? I honestly don't know. Right now I know it's a no, and nothing can change my mind. No matter how many babies I hold or take care of, no matter how many cute pregnant women I see, it doesn't make me want to do it myself. And I do love children. I know it's entirely up to me, but why do I feel like this means there's something wrong with me?

*Giggles*

Because I can't think of what else...

How did your day start off?
I didn't sleep well, so I woke up formulating ESL lessons in my head.

How old do you look?
Old enough?

Who has your heart at this moment?
Well, hell, hopefully I do!

Are you waiting for something?
Yes.

What were you doing at ten last night?
Dancing!

What made you laugh today?
Tutoring Marissa. Wait, that sounded bad.

Last myspace message you recieved?
Something from Pocho.

Does anyone hate you?
Nah, but if I put my mind to it, I bet i could make it happen!

Where are your siblings?
Hell if I know.

What are you up to this weekend?
Work, and maybe some dancing.

Are you happy with life?
Right now I'm pissed at it.

Can you handle the truth?
As long as it's being told.

Have you ever read an entire book in one day?
On many occasions.

Did you cry today?
Um, no. Not that pathetic.

Are you a jealous person?
Of what? I mean, look at me! hahahah....j/k

If you could have one person with you right now, who would it be?
Heidi.

Do you miss anyone?
Yes!!

Do you get 8 hours of sleep everyday?
I used to, but now I am too stressed to sleep that much.

What was the last book you read?
I just finished "24-Karat Kids," now I'm working on "Good Night Nobody."

If you were pregnant right now, who would be the baby's daddy?
With any luck, Cristian de la Fuente.

Is there something you always wear?
A bra! Without one, I'd take an eye out.

Have you ever thought about converting your religion?
Converting my religion? Into what? An alternative fuel source?

What's most stressing right now?
Gettting my stuff back!

What are you going to do after this?
Go to bed.

How's the weather today?
It was HOT! Eugh....

Do you own a computer?
Nah, this one's on layaway from Big Lots.
74 more payments and this baby's ALLLL MINE!

Do you swallow gum when you're done with it?
Ew, no.

Where was your default picture taken?
At my desk at work.

Do you like messages or comments better?
Either. Comments are more random.

What woke you up this morning?
An overwhelming feeling of dread.

Last time you went out of town?
Went to Carbondale 3 weeks ago!

What is your current mood?
Not so great. Confused, to be exact.

What color shirt are you wearing?
Light blue

What was the highlight of your week?
Getting 4 leases in one day.

Whose car were you in last?
Mine.

What are you listening to?
Frasier reruns.

Last shocking news you heard?
I don't know....?

What was the last thing you drank?
A coke.

Where's your cell phone?
On my bed.

Did you have a dream last night?
I don't remember it.

Are you left handed?
no.

What's for dinner tonight?
I had an egg burrito. Yes. An egg burrito. It was either that or another Healthy Choice Meal.

What is the last thing you thought about?
How when I yawned it kinda hurt my ear.

*@&@&*#&%#*&@&!*@&!!!!! Part II

I don't get it. I just do not understand. I can't think of what the hell went wrong. What did I do? Still nothing from him today, and I'm worried but at the same time I don't care. I just don't see how someone can go from making plans one minute, then blowing them off the next without so much as a "Sorry, can't make it." Even if he'd texted me (which, by the way, is a total fucking cop-out) and said he just wasn't feeling it, or me, I would have been OK with it. But nothing. Why is it that more and more men just think it's OK to obliterate common courtesy? But oh well, whatever's easiest, right?

@#^%*#&@*^$#@%##^!!!!!

I don't know if I should be pissed off or just irritated. I do know that I AM humiliated. Again. I don't even want to say anything to my parents or my friends, because I feel so stupid. (Then why blog about it? To me, it just feels anonymous, and I don't need to hear the "Awwww, that sucks," in people's voices.) I was supposed to have plans to go to a movie with this guy I have been seeing for the last few weeks. After making the plans, I went out and waited for the guy to call me to tell me when we'd be meeting at the theater. So I sat and read, like I always do when I'm waiting. I did a few other things, window shopped, et cetera, because I didn't figure on waiting long. Maybe an hour, tops. Yet, 5 hours later, I haven't heard a damn thing from him, and I'm now home.
When something goes wrong, I guess it's only natural to think of the "what ifs," or of the "woulda-coulda-shouldas." I could have accepted a babysitting job I turned down and actually made money. I could have gone to the Y and squeezed in a workout. I could have made plans to see someone else, or gone to see a movie by myself that I couldn't get one of my friends to want to see with me. But all that wondering isn't healthy, now, is it?
I've considered not letting myself be in this situation ever again, but the only way to guarantee that is to stop dating anyone altogether. It is possible, and definitely something I'm considering. Is it that hard to call someone?
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bottle of wine chilling and some Merchant Ivory films to watch.

And now we return to your regular programming, already in progress.

First of all, I apologize for the hiatus. I always keep intending on adding an entry, and often my head is filled with ideas, but by the time I work and then go to the gym and complete my day, my brain just doesn't function like it should. One should not attempt creativity on an empty tank of fuel. The results can be horrendous, or even worse, cheesy.
My job is starting to burn me out. On top of that, I don't feel safe there anymore. It was a halfway decent property when I began working there, but I can see it sinking. So can many of the residents. I don't like to admit it, but it's because we have been accepting Section Eight vouchers. I'll be the first one to tell you that there are many good people receiving assistance from the Housing Authority, people that truly need the help, and I'm glad my tax dollars are going towards helping them out. But at the same time, with many of these individuals comes the environment of the projects. More and more I go to show an apartment to a potential applicant, and have to walk past people outside working on their rims, booming the bass out of their cars, and spitting on the sidewalks. Just today I was showing our model two bedroom apartment to a client, and sitting outside on the stairs were several residents smoking, with their children running around barefoot, as one woman talked loudly and emphatically about her recent trip to jail. There is trash laying around, and not even the threat of being fined $25 per violation, or even eviction, catches their attention. There are many ideas that my coworkers and I have to snap things into shape, but it's not easy getting the necessary support. I just don't feel safe. I'm a pretty tough chick, but this is different. Therefore, I'm researching my options, and I'm open to suggestions.
Aside from all that, I'm actually learning to trust again. It's not so much about searching for honesty, it's accepting that it's actually there, regardless of what other people may have shown you in the past. It's a sort of "innocent until proven guilty" kind of philosophy, and believe it or not, it works! I don't mean you should trust someone blindly; there's always a certain amount of "guard" that needs to be put up. I was so scared that I'd be a bitter person after what I went through with my ex, but I think I may be seeing a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

The Outsider's Report: Par Three - Excuse Me, Ma'am, Your Age Is Showing...

On the Wednesday of Masters Week, the traditional Par Three Shootout is held. This year, Rory Sabbatini won. I don't know exactly what it is that he won, but he won. Well done! Even more inportantly, Wednesday night is the Par Three Party. I have never been before, even though I have gone out quite a bit in years past. But last night I did, since I hope this will be my last Masters Week in Augusta for quite some time. And last year, my friend Rachael and I had such a good time, we couldn't pass it up. We met so many interesting men, and hardly paid for any of our own drinks to boot! So, why not? Last night, however, I realized something. I'm old. Well, not necessarily old, but too old for the whole bar/club scene. It's one thing if I'm there with a bunch of people, but last night, Rachael and I figured out that we've just matured. Sigh. And today I was exhausted. That being said, I'm ending this entry early and going to bed. More to come tomorrow, and more photos.

The Outsider's Report: Day Two - The Epic Journey Home

Since I was off yesterday, this is technically Day Two of the Masters Practice Rounds, but it's really Day One for me. As I sit here and type, I have my TV tuned to Channel 4, the local cable access channel that, during Masters Week, broadcasts the schedule and groupings for the players, and the Rules and Regulations of the National. I can't tell right now who is doing the best; all I see are alot of names I've never heard of. The rules are pretty interesting though. Apparently no large bags or purses allowed. Ladies, no sneaking in your own pimiento cheese sandwiches! Also, chairs with arms (I know what they are talking about; it just sounds funny) and periscopes are also verboten. No rigid chairs, either, or weapons of any kind, "regardless of permit!"
Before I begin to tell you about what I saw today, I must say: IT TOOK ME NINETY MINUTES TO GET HOME TODAY. NINETY. It usually takes thirty. I spent forty-five minutes trying to get from my office to Alexander Drive, which is a mile, maybe a mile and a half distance. "But, Kathleen," you may ask, "You know Augusta roads backwards and forwards. You could have thought of at least five alternate routes to get home. Why would you deliberately choose to drive right past the gates?" Because I wanted to. I wanted to see what it was like, to watch all the people flooding the sidewalks of an area of Augusta that's usually pretty empty (and slightly trashy!).
It was fascinating. Everyone is out to try and profit from the crowds. People selling water and sodas from their trucks, all kinds of golf memorabilia, and parking, parking, parking. The field in front of my office was jammed full. The Augusta National Committee bought up tons of area land within the last few years in order to have space just for this week. There are Guesthouses, mostly for corporate tourists, built just for the Masters. It's amazing how this city comes alive for a few days. And I know this is going to sound incredibly elitist, but I love that golf is a money sport. Why? There are tons of good looking, well-dressed international businessmen, crawling all over Augusta. So will I be going out and partying this week? Oh you bet your booties I will! Last year was so much fun, I simply must repeat it, or try at least.
Keeping you fully aware and up-to-date, I'm signing off for tonight.
Fore!!!!

The Outsider's Report: Pregaming It

Being in Augusta, Georgia on the first full week of April means one thing and one thing only: idiot tourists behind the wheel. It's a phenomenon that begins the Saturday before the Masters Tournament begins, and doesn't end until the Monday after the Green Jacket is awarded. As I said in a previous blog entry, I've never been so close to the action before, and I plan on soaking it in.
Several months ago, the RVs started showing up. Not your average RVs, mind you, but the ticket seller RVs. Shortly after those arrived, the golf inspired billboards showed up. All along Washington Road, everything from Sergio Garcia hawking Michelob Ultra to the Club Glove ads graced the skies. Then, about a month out, you see the Preparations start. The Guesthouses are landscaped and maintained. Trash is picked up. The big green nets with the flags are seen high above the main gate, and then the satellite trailers are set up across the street to transmit the game. The tents go up, and mesh fences are set up in all parking lots within a two mile radius, including the one where I work. About two days before the tournament starts, THEY come. You Augustans know what I mean: the khaki-shorts-and-floppy-hat-clad middle aged men in their lawn chairs, begging for tickets. Their poster boards claiming the utmost in discretion and the highest prices paid for badges and tickets to the practice rounds.
I sat outside the Starbucks last night and watched it all start. I didn't realize what exactly was going on yesterday; I thought the practice rounds didn't start until today. My father informed me, though, that some of the players come and start playing on Sunday (and Tiger was there), which would explain the near-full parking field in front of my office. I sipped my cappuccino and watched as the polo shirts roamed up and down Washington Road, filling the restaurants. It was a refreshing change from the usual GIs walking around.
That's all I have to report thus far. I'm off today, but I am absolutely sure I'll have more as the days pass. Rest assured I'll keep you informed!

The Day Off, Part Two

The Y proved to be good therapy. I've started using a weight loss workout plan provided by Bally's, which I got online. Today was abs day, and I also did some lower back extensions, which are more like reverse crunches. I want to get the most out of this as possible without overdoing it and nullifying my work.
I've had four more calls from the office. I don't know what is going on, but apparently one of my leases has not been properly processed, despite my efforts. And it's making me look like a real idiot, even though I know for a fact that I've done everything I was supposed to do. This is definitely just a job, and not a career.
Surprisingly, I'm looking forward to the Masters Tournament next week. I've never been so close to it before, and my office is right across the street. And I mean that - the entrance to the community is directly across from the press entrance to the National. It will be interesting to see what happens. I know I'll have to figure out how I'm going to get to work; my normal route goes right past the main gate. In the past, I've mostly been out of the way of the traffic, and the tourists, except when I'd go out at night (another thing I'm excited about!). Rest assured I'll blog about anything that happens.
I'm getting tired of Panera and I think I'll go home. There are annoying people behind me.
Maybe "Part Three" will come later. Who knows?

The Day Off, Part One

I awoke to the sound of rain on my window. Perfect. I've been looking forward to today all week. I was pretty sore from yesterday's workout (I took it up to two hours), but it's a *good* kind of sore. Then I got a call from my office. I thought I had covered all my bases from yesterday, and that anyone that would come in today for me would be taken care of. I was wrong, and I don't know if it's because of me or them. So far, I've been called twice. Maybe I should just switch my phone off.
Then I got a call from my insurance adjuster. I got sideswiped yesterday while pulling into a parking spot on my lunch break. I honestly don't know whose fault it is, but I didn't see the guy backing out of his spot. I may fib now and then, but when it comes to legal situations (in fact, in most situations) I take pride in being honest. I found out though, that the other person involved is saying that I swung too wide and hit him. I was hit! And the worst part is, they're saying that I admitted to taking a wide turn, and I never said anything of the kind. My concern is that this other person is a lawyer, and they know how the situation has to look in order not to look at fault. If I'm at fault, I'll accept it, but I just don't see how I am in this case.
I'm going back to the gym in about an hour. Maybe I can work out some of this stress. I still have to tell my dad.

Drugs! Give me drugs!

No gym for me tonight. Over the last two weeks, at least, the pine trees have been exploding with pollen. And thus far it hadn't really knocked me down. But now, everything else seems to be blooming. Aside from that, I live on 4.25 of mostly good ol' Georgia pines. With the occasional sniffle now turning into full blown leakage (yeah, I know, but I couldn't think of a better way to say it), and a migraine pinning me to a prone position, I took a night off of the gym. I know sometimes working out can make it better, but I really didn't feel like risking making it worse. However, I am NOT going to let this put me in a slump. That's my biggest fear: one night I'll stop and just feel so slack and not go back. I'm going tomorrow night, come hell or high water.
As for my classes, I'm supposed to have Zumba tomorrow night and then BellyRox on Thursday. It'll be my first time at BellyRox, so we'll see how that goes. And I'm definitely going salsa dancing Friday night, if there are any takers...?
I'm really wishing I hadn't bought the non-drowsy version of Claritin-D.

*Sigh*

I don't know what to write about, really. I had so many ideas today, but they Y beat them out of me, and now all I have to face is exhaustion. On the upside, I didn't want to go work out tonight, but I did anyhow. Chalk one up for perseverance. I can't even think of anything write now. The thoughts are so fleeting. I yawn and they're gone. Crap. And have to be up an hour earlier tomorrow because we're having a visit from the Boys from Boston, our property owners. Yaaaay, Corporate.
One thing I want to know, though, is why can alcohol make you cry? I know it's a depressant, but sometimes it's just ridiculous.
Another thing: I don't know how you people can stand to use the elliptical machine. Jesus H!

Damn you, caramel color!

The hardest part of this weight loss saga o' mine isn't the exercising. It's not the eating better, or eating less. It's my ongoing addiction to the pride and joy of Atlanta, GA: Coca Cola. Not Pepsi, not Dr. Pepper, but full strength, premium grade Coca Cola. Damn, I'm jonesing for one as I think of it. Oh, it's an addiction all right. I see someone drinking one and I start to salivate and get all jumpy. I get headaches if I don't drink it. I'm down to one a day, which is a strong improvement, seeing as how I could drink nothing but that and coffee all the time, with a little alcohol thrown in for good measure, and the occasional tablespoonful of water that might creep down my throat while brushing my teeth. I'm better now; I'm drinking mostly water or lemonade, maybe unsweetened tea (never had the taste for sweet tea), and my one Coke a day. And don't tell me to drink Diet Coke. It's just not the same. I'd rather give it up altogether.

I didn't work out last night, at least not at the Y. I did, however, go salsa dancing, which for me is even more of a workout than the good ol' Y can produce. I get the endorphins from a 10 mile jog, and have a blast while doing it. I don't even think about doing it. And there's additional entertainment, or at least last night there was. I met this guy who started flirting with me, which was OK by me, never hurt anyone, right? Well he started to get around to the ultimate question: would I go home with him? The answer, obviously, was NO. As cliche as it sounds, I'm just not that kind of girl. And although no is the same in Spanish and English, the synapses in this poor Puerto Rican guy's hippocampus must have been misfiring last night because he kept right on going. Right up until about three in the morning, when I pointed out that if he were to "come over to [my] place," as he'd suggested, the odds of him losing a toe (or worse!) to shotgun fire were unimaginably high. Nothing like a girl that backs the NRA to shut a guy down. Even his line of, "Baby, it's nature! We're all just animals," didn't seem to do the trick. I wonder why?

I'll be back on the fitness track tomorrow. I like Saturday as a lazy day, and you've got to have some time for your body to rest. The soundtrack for the day has consisted of the following: "I Believe To My Soul" - Ray C., "God Bless the Child" and "Blue Skies" - Billie H., "I Just Whisper Your Name" - Harry C. Jr., along with a little Josh Ritter (you should check him out, Ashley!), and Cheb Mami. I've also discovered that I can't blog and listen to the narrative stylings of Garrison Keillor at the same time. Rats. It's not my fault that his voice has such magnetism!

*Note: When I ran spellchecker on my post, it suggested "hippocampus" as two separate words, i.e. "hippo campus." Cue uncontrollable giggles.*

Save me, Billie...

Today was one of those days. One of those days where you have half a mind to just hole yourself in your room and listen to Ray Charles and Billie Holiday all day. Preferably with a bottle of Jack Daniels, no glass. Although last night sucked (I found out my ex-boyfriend, asshole royale, had used my number as his contact number for a credit card...), today started off not so badly. I got to go in to work an hour later and slept nearly ten hours. (Is it bad that I felt like I could have stayed asleep for another five hours?) I picked up Starbucks on the way to work. My hair dried in the car, but upon arrival at my office, I realized it was shaping up to be a Bad Hair Day. Ugh.
I was busy all day, which was great. My job is not the job you want to be bored doing. I got a lease (Yay!) but it's my only one for the week. Then I lost a lease, one that had been planning on moving in for two months...the day before their move-in date. Rats. When I was finally able to take a lunch break, I went back to Starbucks, got another coffee, and sat. Ashley, your blog was the best part of my day!
After staying late at the office, which turned out to be a waste of time, I went to the Y. I know I've been saying I want to do three classes a week, but tonight I didn't feel like putting thought into learning the moves for a new class. Mindless walking sounded FANTASTIC. Another hour on the treadmill, and I left in a decent mood. No doubt about it, exercise really IS a great way to get out any frustration. I churned out three miles without a problem. I'm home now, too tired to get all worked up again. And for that, I'm grateful.

Ashley, after reading your blog I realize I need goals. The ones I have are slightly watery, but we do have one in common! I, too, want to take 50's style pin-up girl photos!!!! My problem is, I don't weigh myself. I don't want to. At least not now. Not until I start to feel a difference in my clothes. Then maybe I won't be shell-shocked by the scale. My main goal though, and I think I have said this before, is NEW CLOTHES. I may be the "sexiest librarian ever," but all I want is to feel normal. When people look at me, I don't want to think they're thinking of how huge I am.
I think the YMCA thing is working though. Here's my opinion of the classes I have taken so far:
Tuesday night - Middle Eastern Dancing:
SUCKED. Slow moving, hardly got my heart going at all. Bland instructor, slightly snotty. I felt like a kindergartener being looked down upon by the teacher because she knew how to read and I didn't. And I've belly danced before!!!!
Wednesday night - Zumba:
FUN! FUN! FUN! I really enjoyed the class, even though I got frustrated that I didn't pick up on the routines as quickly as I'd wanted to. I'll get it eventually. It's all I can do not to sing along with the songs. The instructor is awesome.
Thursday night - BellyRox
Actually, I should have gone, but I don't really feel bad that I didn't. I'll try it next week.

Any suggestions???

Gettin' Physical...

So I have started working out now at the Y, and I'm really liking it. I know I am motivated to do it, I just need to find a way to keep that motivation and not chicken out. I really want this, to lose the weight and feel normal. I want to go into a store without having to try on the largest size they carry and still not look good. I guess that's my biggest thing: clothes. I know it should be "health," but I REALLY want to be able to wear cute clothes. I've heard that I dress like a librarian. I guess I don't mind that so much, but I know part of that is because I've found a style that I can work with at my size. I think I may have overdone it at the gym tonight though. I need to find my limit. Bring on the pep talks!

IHOP Musings...

Thank God for free Wifi. And for breakfast food at any other time than breakfast time.
Sitting here at IHOP with my laptop makes me feel like my life is more normal than I thought, but at the same time I'm more unique then anyone else. But isn't that the point? The more I'm alone, the more I realize how easy it is to be true to myself and not be something or someone I'm not. And I like that. I woke up in a good mood...and I'm looking to keep it that way.

?????

I don't know what's going on, but lately I've felt obsessed with appearance. Usually I'm so self conscious, and I don't know if I should blame it on the upcoming holiday but I feel like I have to do so much to try and look OK. I mean, yeah, I'm joining the Y tomorrow but I have been planning that for months. But then, I started tanning again, which isn't so bad; it's about that time of year. Yet the more I think about it, more and more things keep popping into my head that I could do: get a pedicure, new clothes, redo my hair. What is wrong with me? I don't usually care so much about what other people think, at least not of how I look, at least not anymore.
I can't figure out if it's a deep seeded desire for self-improvement, but something doesn't feel right about starting with the outside. Maybe I feel stuck in a rut, and that my outer appearance is the only thing I can change. It's one thing to continue to lose the weight, but what's with all this other stuff?

Why bother?

It seems like anytime I feel like I am moving forward, something comes along to throw me back. Something I though I had beat, something I was sure I'd overcome. I guess that's the way life works. But what I want to know is why I constantly put my faith in people and get my hopes up if I am only going to be let down?

Could someone come along and restore my faith in people? Please? Because I am about to lose it...forever.

Politeness, tact, and variations

Sometimes there's no other way to say it: "Sir/Ma'am, you're an idiot."
Being alone in the office today, I'm left to fend for myself against the various residents here at work. I don't think I could be intentionally impolite if I tried, but sometimes in the aftermath of a conversation (even if it's one-sided), I can sure think of a few bitchy comebacks. I suppose that one of the main objectives of having patience is to test it. I may be in a different career, but I'm still working with customer service, and the whole "The Customer is Always Right" adage still applies, even if said Customer is dead wrong. Or stupid. My mom always told me that it's OK to be smarter than other people, but it's not okay to go around and inform others of the fact. In that sense, I think I've learned to be patient with other people when questioned. But where is the virtue in being patient and tactful if thirty seconds after they leave you feel like banging our head against a brick wall and possibly developing a drinking problem? Is the virtue in having the strength to not act on those urges? Or in not having them at all?

I scratched your back, but I'm still itching!

There is definitely something to be said for doing things for others without expecting anything in return, but at what point do you stop before becoming someone's doormat?
This new job, it's working ok, but I am definitely not going to be here forever. With luck, I won't even be here past the summer. I'm concerned with where my life is going. I'm having the same feelings about my current job that I had towards the end of my time at the Deli. I am considering a second job, but at the same time, I'm also wondering how much longer I can take this one. I could always go back to the Deli, but I am afraid it would be more of a step back than a step forward. Right now it seems like I am having no financial luck right now whatsoever. All of my money goes to bills, and the little extra I can make on the side with tutoring has come to a standstill. Any suggestions? I'm thinking bartending on the weekends....

You want more? I know I didn't...

So, I'm an old lady now. Five years away from the big 3-0. Not that I'm afraid of it or anything. My birthday weekend was great - nice, quiet, and personal, just the way I wanted it. Except for the dog getting sick then my parents and myself getting sick.
Do I feel older? As a matter of fact, I do, and that's not a bad thing. My life is moving along. The only thing about moving along, especially with life, is that there are things that get left behind in order to make room for new things. Trash and knicknacks get tossed out the window, and you give away or throw away things that you don't need anymore. Room is needed to grow.
I'm finding that, as I grow older, my circle of true friends is shrinking. I gain new ones, but as I gain I also seem to lose. I received birthday greetings from many people, half of which I didn't even expect. But yet there were two people that I heard nothing from, and it hurts me more than anything. Why do we let the people we care about hurt us the worst? And when we go to stand up for ourselves, we back down because we wouldn't want to hurt them. It makes no sense. Am I afraid I'll lose them? And if I do, would it truly be a loss? Or merely a gain in disguise?

Soapbox up!

Call me old-fashioned, but I have always believed that a man has nothing without his word. Yet more and more I am coming into contact with men who put little or no value in their own integrity. Maybe it's because my father is a Marine that I value honesty and integrity so much, but as I grow older I'm seeing how important it is in life to be good for my word. I expect a man, or woman, for that matter, to get upset if it is even suggested that he or she is dishonest. I expect that to be the main thing one should stand for. Yet why is it that integrity has gone down in value? Am I wrong? Is it because of the media? Celebrities? Do we see people that we look up to lie and get away with it and somehow that's ok? What is going on? And is it so wrong for you to be questioned if there is a chance that you are being dishonest? It could possibly be that having a "backbone" is no longer a vital requirement. Yes, get upset if you are wrongfully accused. But if you really are in error, a real man (or woman) should be able to bow his or her head and admit it. That is true integrity.



.......Soapbox down.

Overdue

I think I'm way past my due date for a good week. Last week positively sucked, so please, please God let this week get better.....

.....I don't think God is getting my message. I blame technology.

For those of you that may wonder if the MBFW situation has gotten any better: it hasn't. I have yet to receive a phone call or even a text in response to my "Are you already married" question. Nice. I'm not as fired up about it as I was, although it does still upset me, but now I am just trying to figure out how long it might be before I feel like speaking to her again or having any contact. I don't even feel like telling her I'm no longer interested in being a part of the whole thing. At some point I know I have to say something, somehow. I'm thinking a telegram. Delivered by a guy in a uniform who leaves a black sedan parked on the curb. People, like my mom, Queen of Compassion (I have no clue how she does it), tell me not to let one bad instance spoil a ten-year friendship, but it's not just this one situation! It's several instances that just built up to making this one big whammy. Even my GRANDMOTHER has my back! My Uncle Freddy left me a voicemail saying I should feel bad for her fiance (all I could think was, well, yeah, he is being deployed), but his reasoning was that I should feel bad because he'd chosen to spend his life with such a selfish person. My mother also mentioned to her mother how hurt I was. I'm trying to be rational since the circumstances for her early marriage are not so great, and believe me, I understand (and even expected) this happening. But she has had at least five days to get back to me, even with a quick message, and she hasn't. And do I really want to back out of the wedding? I don't know if I want to be part of something where I am consciously left out of the loop and taken for granted. I didn't even send her a birthday invitation, even though it would have only been out of courtesy, since she isn't in town. Hmmmm....courtesy....there's that idea again.


In other news.....

There is a man where I work, one of our residents, who is certifiably crazy. And I mean that "certifiably" part literally. He has papers. He gives me the heebie-jeebies. I'm used to working around crazy people (Hell-o, Mrs. Jacobs!) But the thing with this guy is he is constantly upset. I see him walking up the sidewalk while I'm driving and I turn the other way so he can't see me and know my car. Every time he comes into the office he has something to complain about, and he makes threats. They're the kind of threats that get someone thrown in jail, or at least call for a restraining order. I don't know that he's ever acted on these threats, but I'm afraid of when he does.

Your input is requested, please...

I know that in the past I have written about my best friend's upcoming wedding. Here's an update: It has been postponed. I was having issues with finding a location for the bridal shower, and in my attempts to contact her mother about using a cousin's home, I find out (through her mother) that the wedding has been postponed due to the fiance's pending deployment. I was shocked, and wasn't quite sure as to what I should do as far as speaking to the bride-to-be. Although the diet pressure and the wedding pressure was slightly relieved for me, I didn't know what exactly the protocol would be for comforting her. I waited a few days, since I wasn't sure how fresh the wound was, and called her, leaving a message, saying I understood if she didn't want to talk, but that I would be there for her if she needed me. About a week passed, with no answer, and I tried calling again, with the same results. I noticed she was online at one point, so I emailed her. I still have not received a response from any of my attempts.
Then, earlier last week, I called her from my work number, since about 3 weeks had passed and I was getting worried, thinking she was holed up in a bathroom somewhere, slowly rocking herself and singing "It's a Small World After All." Since she didn't know my number at work, she picked up, and was apparently asleep. I told her that all I wanted to know was that she was ok, and she didn't have to talk about the situation if she didn't want to. She hung up shortly after. About a week or so later I got a call from her after I was already in bed, in which she updates me on some little things going on, and to ask if I was ok (I was in an accident on Tuesday night...I'm ok), and to ask if she and her mom could stay at my house this weekend. I told her she'd have to ask my mom and to call her, since I am not living at the house.
Then last night, after speak with my dad he goes, "So, (bride) and (groom) eloped, huh?" I politely corrected him, for surely he must be mistaken. Surely, if they were married, I would have been informed. We've been best friends for ten years. I'm the maid of honor, for god's sakes! After spending more time than necessary correcting my dad, I got off the phone, and my other best friend calls. She had been on the phone with my mother regarding some travel plans, and she says to me, "Did you know (bride) got married?" I told her I had no idea, and was sure she was mistaken (the only place she would have heard it from is my mother), but since she was the second person I had heard this from in the last fifteen minutes, I decided to go right to the source. I can't have rumors going around about people I love. I text her, "Are you already married?" Then I call. No answer. I'm going crazy waiting for her, so I call the fiance, and he tells me that yes....they got married.
So now I'm hurt, and I'm angry, and quite disrespected. And the more I think about it and try and maybe rationalize it, the angrier I get! She wasn't even the one to tell me the wedding was postponed! It was up on her (social networking site)'s webpage, but she never told me. In fact, I might still be trying to plan the shower if I hadn't called her mother. So she tells my mother before she tells me that she's married already. Does she call quickly afterward so that she is still the person that tells me first? Nope. Has she even tried to call yet to talk about it? Nope. And am I planning on speaking to her at all? I'll let you fill in this response.
In fact, I'm sending the two-sizes-too-small dress back to her, saying maybe she should find a real size 14 that can fit into it.
Am I wrong here?

The Next Move

I've never been the kind of girl who plays games. I'm straightforward and sincere, and will generally tell you how I'm feeling, should the case present itself. I've never played too much "hard to get," or teased anyone. I've never purposely ignored someone. I've always felt that these games people play were useless and a waste of time, and someone who was worth my time didn't need to get caught up in all that. I've always said that this is who I am; you can take it or leave it. And I honestly don't care. Nonetheless, my dating life sucks, but I blame that on my being picky.
Yet there's one person that's been in my life for six years now, one that I can't seem to shake, and I'm not sure if I want to or not. I care about him, but although he says he cares about me as well, I just can't bring myself to believe him. Why? Well, for one, he's lied to me and betrayed my trust in the past on more than one occasion. That alone should be enough reason for me to cut him off altogether. Another reason is that he just doesn't seem to show me he cares. Therefore, I have decided to put one of these stupid games that I have always avoided into play. I'm ignoring him. It's not so much out of conniving as it is out of exhaustion. I got tired of being the one to call, the one to say hello first. I got tired of his broken promises to call, and the feeling of being ignored. I don't deserve it, and in my opinion (let me know if you agree with me on this) am owed just a little bit of consideration here. For example: two days ago I used ten of my last dollars (and my lunch hour) to help him out. Did I get a thank you? No. Did he call me since then? No. Did he at least text me? No.
That's when I decided to set the wheels in motion. I want to use 2008 for myself, to make myself a better person, and to grow. The way I have done things in the past hasn't gotten me as far as I want to be, so I'm doing my best to get what I want. I stopped calling him. No texts, either. I didn't hear anything from him until last night. A text message, saying "Hey," nothing else. I didn't answer. Then, an instant message this morning: "hi." Didn't feeling like answering that either. One text message and one (unanswered) phone call later, I'm still here, ignoring him. He knows where to find me. He didn't even leave a message before. I figure if he cares, he'll try harder to get in touch with me. If he doesn't, then, well, that's pretty self-explanatory. I'll deal with that when it gets there, but either way I'll be OK. I don't know what I'll say to him when I do speak to him. Maybe just act nonchalant, like I had better things to do. Like, I said, I've never been one of "those girls."
And I don't know if I want to become one.

Twenty Seven Dresses and the One That Bothers Me the Most

If I wasn't a total cynic before, I am one now. I also think that I have just watched the last chick-flick I will watch for a very long time. I've noticed that I've slowly but surely stopped listening to love songs. I make exceptions for old songs, like the ones by Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra and Michael Buble, because they are more tied to memories of family and friends as opposed to relationships or crushes or whatever. I listen to music I can choreograph in my head, music for which I can plan elaborate dance numbers. There's generally no one in them but myself, maybe a random person if I need an imaginary dance partner. The point is, I now know for sure I won't be getting married. Ever. The idea is nice, but I don't think it's for me. I watch these movies, like "27 Dresses," and the stuff seems so outrageous that I feel for sure it's impossible. So why wait for it to happen to me?

8.457

I think I have found the shallowest site on the Web. (And no, it's not "www.puddle.com" You think you're witty...) And sadly, I have to admit, I am a member. I tell you what, though, it really is difficult trying not to get caught up in the "shallowness" of it all. What is it? It's called FaceTheJury.com, and it's one of those sites where people "rate" your photo on a scale of one to ten, ten being the "hottest" rating one can give or receive. There is quite a variety of people on there, allowing for different tastes and whatnot. But in the end, it really boils down to are you good looking in a particular photo or not? Generally, there are tons of girls with photos in low-cut tank tops and lots of eyeliner and lip gloss and plenty of shirtless guys. The almost always get the "tens." Me? I'm an 8.4. Whoop-de-do. I honestly don't care about my rating. It's nice, but at the end of the day, being on there just makes me feel like an old lady. (In my defense, I joined out of supreme boredom after my knee injury in July. To be fair, I have met a handful of truly interesting people. But my profile has been a bit of a turn-off, I think. Do I care? Nah. It may piss some people off, but it has done a nice job of weeding people out.) Why do I feel like an old lady? Well, first of all, I'm turned off by the blatant sexuality plastered all over most of other members' photos. Then, when I actually go to read what some write in their profile boxes, I see exactly where our education system has dropped the ball, and my skin crawls. What really makes me laugh, though, are the people that go on there saying that they are looking for a serious relationship! Not to knock Internet dating or anything, it's really an up-and-coming method for meeting potential partners, but would you really want to base your future on someone you meet at a meat-market kind of site?
You may ask, why am I still a member if I seemingly loathe it so much? Well, I still do get bored occasionally, and there are a few people that I enjoy talking with that are on there. But chances are I'll delete my account before long and have done with it.

I know there was a point I wanted to make, but it flew out the window.

For a Loop

I don't know what is going on. Maybe it's something in the air, maybe it's the moon. I don't get it, but two men hit on me tonight, and then some! No, I wasn't molested, and no, I didn't get any action. Sorry to disappoint y'all. But all the same...holy shit!
I am used to flirting; that's normal social interaction. I am NOT, however, accustomed to men hitting on me, asking for my number, and trying to get in my pants. What happened? Well, first, I went to a restaurant this evening with my parents for dinner, which was really nice, and on my way out, I saw an older man at the bar with whom I used to work way back when I was 16. Now, if he's not 50 yet, he almost is, and he was kind of like a nice uncle when I worked with him at the Deli. I always make an effort to say hi to people I know when I'm out, and he is no exception. Tonight, though, I thought he might kiss me! With my mom right there! It was like finding out the Olsen twins had turned 18....fair game! My next move I still don't quite understand, and I kind of regret it, but I rolled down my window and said goodbye as I saw him walking to his car. He approached, (I should have driven off!) and asked for my phone number! Believe me this, the turn off is not that he is a good deal older, but that I still feel like the 16 year-old hostess that I was when we first met around him. It creeps me out! It would be the same if one of my former teachers asked me out.
The second occasion was a flat out booty call. I had been friends with this one guy for a little while and we kind of lost touch, and when I saw him again last weekend, I couldn't for the life of me remember why. Now I do. I gave him my phone number, and tonight he called me, asking what I was doing tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, it is the middle of the week, and he called after 8:00 p.m. without any particular plan, asking me what I was doing for the rest of the night. Sounds an awful lot like, "Come over and let's have sex" to me. Unless someone calls with something specific like, "Let's go see a movie" or "Would you like to go get dinner?" no one except those with whom you hang out on a regular basis can, without sexual motive, ask to "hang out." Does that make sense? Am I being silly? I pretty much put my "casual sex" self up on the shelf in 2006, and just am not into sleeping around anymore. It's just not me. I'd really like for it to mean something. So hey, if you ask me, and I say no, it doesn't mean I don't like you, it's just that I don't want to have sex. Capisce? I did politely decline his offer, saying I had alot to do tomorrow and was very tired (not a total lie). Still, the very idea of a booty call just turns me off.

The "and then some" factor? Well, you'll just have to ask me for that one. But it was very nice.

I have tomorrow off. Perhaps I'll blog a little more when I'm not sleepy.

The Day Off

Maybe I'm just a melancholy and morbid kinda gal, but for me, today was the perfect kind of day: cold, (about 40-something, and currently 37 degrees) and rainy. Not extreme downpours, but a slow drip, like a leaky percolator. And I didn't have a damn thing I had to do. Since I went out dancing last night after my workout, I slept in, with Kassie snoring (and shedding) right next to me. Also, as luck would have it, I would be getting a massage later on. My mother had bought my grandmother a gift certificate for a massage and she never used it (I know! Who on earth could possibly pass on a free massage?), and since my mother is friends with the massage therapist, she let someone else use it instead even though it was way past its 6-month expiration date. My father didn't want to, and my mother is even more body conscious than I am, so I was next in line, and I took it. I'm no dummy. I may be fat, but I'll get a massage, especially when it's free. So I rolled out of bed, showered, and put on some fleece sweats and headed out the door.
The massage was great, but I didn't feel so relaxed that I just wanted to roll back into bed. Instead, I grabbed some soup at Atlanta Bread Company and sat and read about Julia Child and one woman's quest to complete all of the recipes documented in (the best cookbook ever written, the acme of all cookbooks) Mastering the Art of French Cooking. When I needed a scenery change, I trucked my chilly-but-fleece-covered butt over to Borders. My favorite thing about Borders is the kind of people-watching one can do there. You have all types there: the students (which vary from the giggling high school students to the very quiet and very studious med students), parents, little old ladies, comic books guys. (The manga kids stick to their section and don't often frequent the cafe. You'll find them sitting on the floor by the shelves.) And then there are the weirdos. Oh, the weirdos. There is a woman that is there every time I am there, and I swear she does nothing but sit at Borders, often bringing her own lunch, and read stacks of magazines and nap. Lately she has taken to bringing a portable DVD player and watching movies, without using headphones. Highly irritating. I don't know what her story is, nor can I figure it out. The only time I have ever heard her speak was to respond to a nice young man who asked her if she was ever a substitute teacher, because he thought remembered her. She responded that yes, she was at one point, and to tell him he had already introduced himself before on a different occasion, and refused his handshake. Yeah. Weirdo.
Today there was a different kind of weirdo, even though the aforementioned one was there as well, napping. A young man sat at the table next to me as I was setting up my day planner for the new year, and it looked like he was on a date with a young lady. I don't know if I'd call myself "nosy." I think I prefer the word "curious." You'd probably call me "nosy," though. Don't deny it. Anyways, since he was within earshot, I picked up what he was talking about. And in the hour or so I was there, I don't think the girl got five words in. She just sat there with a smile plastered on her face, listening to this guy talk about his career as a teacher. He kept talking about how his students would definitely remember him and his odd teaching methods, some of which involved rewriting misogynistic rap lyrics into parodies, and his reassigning class tasks with unorthodox "ghetto" terms. I can understand trying to get kids' attention. I can understand wanting to get through to them. But this guy, with what he was commenting on and the anecdotes he shared, seemed to me like he just loved hearing himself talk. I used to have two springer spaniel puppies that would bark at each other every night while I had dinner with my family, not because they were fighting, but because they realized how much they liked the sound of their voices. There were distinct similarities between this guy and those two pups. I couldn't really tell if the girl was into him or not. Her body language indicated that she was faking it, but I could be wrong. At the end of his epic spiel, he looks at her and says, "You're a very good listener." Did he catch on that he was rambling?
And I realize I'm rambling now. Rats. At the same time though, as annoying as listening to this guy was, I wonder if I am any different from him, through this blog?

Working Girl

Today was pretty much full of busy work. I'm feeling slightly nervous, like I'm wondering when I'll be put on the spot. I don't think it will be for a while, but I'm still getting used to the idea of a new job. At times I feel like a third wheel, like I'm just there to take up space. Fortunately, my coworkers are really nice. Maybe since tomorrow will be a shorter-staffed, longer day, I'll get to do more than just watch.
On another note, I've been asking the various Hispanic residents if they'd be interested in a class to learn English, and every single one said YES. Not just a few, not a majority - EVERYONE. So I started to think. (Yeah, I know, that's my first mistake.) I keep hearing from people, whenever the subject of immigrants comes up, is that they "need to learn to speak goddamn English!" The thing is, many people don't stop to think of what exactly it might be that is holding these individuals back from learning. I have found several reasons. No one I have spoken with is against the idea. No one is afraid of "losing" his or her culture. One issue is time. With all of the work they are doing, at all different hours, there is barely any time to get decent rest, much less go to a class. Another issue is money. Many, if not most, cannot afford to pay to go to a school or buy books. True, there are sometimes classes available, but in smaller towns they are hard to find and hard to staff. What those that are screaming for more English speaker don't realize is that one can't do it alone. Get out and help. See what you can do to form or contribute to English classes. What do you expect? Osmosis? Learning a second language is not easy, even for those who are lucky enough to be exposed to higher learning.

OK...soapbox down.
I'm going to bed. I can't think of anything else to say.

So far, so fantastic....

As many of you know, today was my first day of my first full-time job. Forty-hour work weeks, here I come! I started my training as a leasing consultant/agent off by being a mystery shopper. I was given an apartment guide and five different apartment complexes to contact via email, telephone, and in person, as if I were looking to lease. It was pretty interesting, actually. By asking my own questions, I got a feel for what people might be asking me, and how to answer them. I'm not quite sure if I can base my entire future experience here on this one day or not, but so far I like it. I pretty much jumped right in when I got there. I was standing by the door to my supervisor's office, waiting to speak with her, and I hear "Ummmm....no Spanish?" from an office behind me, so I craned my neck back and mouthed, "You want me to get that?" The woman was my assistant manager, and she emphatically nodded and thrust the phone at me. After helping the tenant on the phone and in person, I was able to get a feel for the Hispanic tenants we do have. I also got an idea to help them in some way to learn to speak English, which led into my boss suggesting I teach an English course for the residents, which would be something our development would have that no other complex does. I'd rather find some university student who actually wants to teach for a living, but whatever I can do, I'll do it, even if all I can do is post fliers or a note in the newsletter about somewhere that does offer English classes. I wonder what I'll be doing tomorrow?
This may not be what I do forever, but for once I feel like my life is coming together.

On to the next thing!

This evening marks my last shift at the Village Deli. I am absolutely thrilled to be done there, but to me, it's alot like when I graduated. I guess it still hasn't kicked in yet that I'm not a waitress anymore, that I've moved on to better things. It was strange telling my customers, people I've seen at least once a week, nearly every week, for the last ten years that it was my last shift. One guy even teared up a little. It was nice hearing all the well wishes from everyone.
I still remember my first night there. It was late March, 1998, a Friday night. I started out as a hostess, and I got thrown in on one of the busiest nights of the week. Being 15 years old, I had to get a work permit, but I was saving up spending money for my first trip to Europe. Over the years I don't think I ever imagined I'd be there so long, but I have never known an employer who took as good care of me as Les and Lorna. They didn't have any children, but I may as well have been their daughter. They were understanding about my family issues, my school, and my other jobs. They would even claim me as their daughter half the time.
After I graduated though, it hit me that I could no longer just wait tables. It's a worthy profession, and it's not easy work, not in the least. It may seem easy, and there are people out there who think all waitresses are just people who can't or won't get better jobs, but that is seldom true. It's quick money, and it makes it easy for those who are in school. But I know I couldn't do it forever, and I'll never do it again. It's a part of my life that is over and done.

Oddly disappointed...

I really only have three shifts left at the restaurant where I work before I leave for my new job, so I really don't know if I should let this bother me or not. I've been there over a span of nearly ten years, and am one of only a few employees who is skilled in all of the front-of-house tasks. Yet lately, I've been getting evening shifts only, and only waiting tables instead of that and bartending as well. I have never had a problem with working where I was needed, but this evening one of my coworkers asked me to switch shifts with her tomorrow, which would allow me to bartend for the lunch shift, while she would serve for me in the evening. However, when she called to clear it with the manager, he said no. Wouldn't one think that if something were wrong with my performance, they could tell me?
Do they really mean it when they say they're sorry to see me go?
Should I even be worried?

MBFW = My Best Friend's Wedding

OK, so I'm on my first bit of DiSaronno for the evening, just to mellow out. Thanks to those of you who offered advice on the whole MBFW issue. But it's not over just yet. In fact, I know for certain that it won't be over until she leaves for her honeymoon. I love my best friend dearly. She's like a little sister, and we've been friends for ten years now, which is the longest relationship I've had with anyone, short of my parents. But my goodness, she has her expectations. I understand that a wedding is supposed to be that special day, and you should get things like you want them. But I have a feeling they are going to come at a crazy expense, and I don't really mean monetarily. At least not for her...well, maybe not. I'm trying to be obliging and do what she wants, but I tend to do this alot and get screwed frequently in that department. My biggest issue right now is, what do I do if I can't hold the shower at one of her relatives' homes? Can anyone suggest any ideas for an inexpensive (and tasteful) place to hold it? I'm praying she doesn't turn into a Bridezilla, but I did witness her Senior Prom FlipOut, and am still scarred.
Also, as psyched as I am to lose the weight, does anyone find it slightly odd, maybe rude even, that she bought my dress THREE sizes too small? Not one, by mistake, not two, because that was all they had, but THREE sizes too small????

I have a feeling this bottle isn't going to last me long....

New Year, New Beginnings

Happy New Year, y'all! I've been meaning to write for quite some time, but every time I get around to it, something distracts me. It's not that hard. I have so many things to do this year, so many things I plan on accomplishing, it's almost overwhelming. Almost.
First of all, I have a new job! Yes, me, a new job! I thought I couldn't get a job working the Fry-o-lator at McDonald's, and I got a phone call offering me a job. What will I be doing? Well, I won't be waiting tables or slinging chicken salad and pimiento-cheeseburgers. I won't be retrieving 2 and 4 ounce sides of ranch dressing for ungrateful jerks. I won't be cleaning and scouring tables after cheap tippers slobber all over them. What? What's that? Get on with it and tell you what my new job is? Oh...damn. OK, I'll be working as a leasing agent for a local apartment complex. No, this is not a permanent career change. Well, it is, sort of, in the sense that I'm changing from what I was doing. I don't plan on doing this longer than a year. But I do know that I won't be leaving Augusta for another 6 months, and if I had to continue to wait tables for much longer, I'd be one mean bitch. It was one thing when I was serving and going to school, because I had something else to focus on, but now that this is all I'm doing, it's driving me up a wall, and I hate it. I love working with people, don't get me wrong. But I can't stand being someone's servant, because, as sad as this may sound, many, many people still see waitresses (especially at a place like where I work) as slightly substandard.
What exactly will I be doing? As a leasing agent, I'll kind of be like a real estate agent for this particular apartment complex. I'll be developing a new skill set, with business and marketing, which is great. I'll have evenings off, and a real work schedule. I may work a weekend or two, but if that means I get nights off, that is fine with me.
Next item on the docket is my best friend's wedding. It's not just the wedding that's the issue; it's the weight I have to lose for it. I currently have to lose three dress sizes to fit into the dress she's already bought for me. And this time I really WANT to lose this weight. I need to. I have to. I'm already doing a hell of alot better in the diet department, although I refuse to call it a "diet." Being away from the Deli will help too. I know at one point I'm actually going to have to weigh myself and take my measurements, but I really, really don't want to. It's like I'll have to realize just exactly how fat I am, and I'll have all those numbers floating around in my head all the time, mocking me. Ugh. Maybe this will show me exactly what I can do.
And then there's the wedding itself. When Cindy asked me to be her Maid of Honor (actually, she didn't really ask me, it was just understood), I thought I just showed up, wore the dress, held her train and her bouquet, and threw the bachelorette party. I didn't know about the bridal shower! I am horrible at delegating. And I'm terrible at asking people to donate money for stuff, let alone people in the same financial situations as myself (or worse!). It's like asking a homeless guy for change, at least that's how I feel. I thought I might have it easy, since the shower was going to be held at Cindy's mom's house, but now that that's been dubbed "inappropriate," I may have to find somewhere to hold it. I'm also having to pay for invitations for 70+ people, and I'm guessing that maybe 30% will actually show. The menu plan isn't so bad; I'm actually quite good at that. But what about everything else?

Can anyone give me tips on how to tactfully ask for money?