Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Do you know what grinds my gears?

The fact that when someone, either a complete stranger that I happen to be in a situation with or an acquaintance, asks "How are you?" it is more of a formality than the fact that they actually care. "How are you?" has become an empty greeting, which, as soon as the person asks it, hopes that the other person doesn't give an honest answer. What kind of society have we become? Lately, due to the weather mostly, I have noticed that when I ask customers of mine how they are doing, they usually answer, "I am doing well," or something similar, and they sound like Eeyore.* Why can't they tell me how they feel? Tell me you feel like shit. Tell me that you are stressed because your dog made you late by eating all the toothpaste. I asked, I deserve to know. I actually call out the Eeyores by asking them how they really feel, usually after laughing at/with them. If someone asks me how I am doing, I tell them my life story, so, they should feel comfortable enough, if they are still conscious, to tell me their story. I care, really I do. Or, at least I will pretend to.

*Each word is said slightly deeper and slower than the one previous.

Friday, February 24, 2006

`I was thinking,' Alice said politely, `which is the best way out of this wood: it's getting so dark. Would you tell me, please?'

So, I think that I have come down with the disease that has befelled a dear friend of mine.* I seem to either find guys that want nothing to do with me or want everything to do with me...and the ones that want nothing to do with me are way more attractive. I hung out with the kid from part deux of my snow weekend blog. We went to Princeton, mostly so that I could go to the Princeton Record Exchange, but also because he doesn't have any money** and I am in the middle of the Master Cleanser*** so I thought that Princeton would be a good place to explore and get to know one another. Well, I had a very nice evening, despite the fact that most of the people that knew where I was going and who with thought that I was going to get killed and/or raped. One thing kept pecking at me all night: he was too nice. Very well behaved, very complimentory, and simply would have delivered the world to me if he could. It sounds all warm and cozy in blog form, but, in reality, I am used to guys who want nothing to do with me, or are only interested in that one thing that Mom always warned you about. Guys that tell me nice things to get my clothes off. Guys that listen to punk and drink beer.**** The boy that I went out with last night didn't even try to kiss me...lord knows he would have if he wasn't such a friggin gentleman. I know that he is in the midst of reforming his ways, and I give him a lot of credit for coming to terms with his past and leaving behind a lifestyle that was going to get him killed or put in prison, but, damn. Seriously. Did he leave behind sass? Spice? Did he ever have it? And, on top of it, he plans to call me later today. It's not that I don't like him, because there is a very good chance that I could fall head over heels for this kid. He is very nice to look at, really working at making himself better, and easy to talk to. I don't know. I guess I really don't want someone in my life. Or, I feel more in control when I am the one who is more in like than the other person.

Then, today, a painter that I have a bit of a crush on, and have had for quite some time, came into work. I mean, he knows that I want him***** and I already told him that he is the one that has to call, but he is hesitating. He initiated any and all flirting and number exchanging, but he just won't follow through. He is probably near 10 years older than I am and was way hard core in his younger days****** but he seems almost scared.

I think that I expect the perfect guy to come waltzing into my life, give me only the attention that I want, call me only when he should, buy me things but not too much, allow me to take care of him but not expect it.


*Who shall remain anonymous, and she knows who she is.
**He's homeless, give the kid a break.
***A liquid cleansing fast that lasts almost 2 weeks.
****There are very nice boys that are punk-rocker beer drinkers, they just don't come around my way.
*****I know that he knows because he called me out on it today...he said it in a joking way, but he was serious. And, then he blushed.
******A blog for another day.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Eat Me!

Let me start off by singing the praises of Kashi. I loooove their Heart to Heart Golden Brown Maple oatmeal. I eat it almost every morning. It tastes like the old days, it is jam packed with good stuff, and it makes me feel warm and satisfied. With that said, Kashi must end the travesty that is their Go Lean Honey and Cinnamon oatmeal.

I was at Trader Joe's the other night and decided to try the Go Lean oatmeal because: a) they didn't have my Heart to Heart oatmeal, and b) I am an American consumer and wanted to try the Go Lean oatmeal because it is, well, new. What a Horrible, Grievous mistake!!!

I made myself a bowl, during my "down" time, between my shower and getting ready for the day. At this time every morning, I watch the remainder of Designing Women and the beginning of Golden Girls. Throw in a tasty bowl of oatmeal and I am off to a good start. But, the morning that I first tasted the Go Lean oatmeal was very different than any other oatmeal morning I have ever experienced.

The oatmeal was damn near tastelss, was thick and had a very strange texture.* And, far from inspiring me to "go lean," it actually encouraged me to eat more, since the damned oats and clusters set up shop in my stomach and refused to budge. Thankfully I didn't, which was due, in part, to the slight nausea that I felt and continued to feel all day. I wasn't sick enough to not eat, of course, again going against the whole going lean theme of this retched cereal.

So, friends, if you are intrigued by this new breakfast item, DO NOT buy a box...you can have mine.

*I believe that the odd texture was due to the "clusters" that are said to be included. Clusters of what? I have no clue.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Life, what is it but a dream?

I dream a lot, it would seem, and I remember a good deal of my dreams. I attribute that to the fact that I don't go into REM as often as most people and also because I wake up all throughout the night. By waking right after a dream, it is easier to transfer* the dream from short-term to long-term memory. So, it isn't a surprise to me that I can remember the dream I had last night with the clarity that I do. The content is what I am having trouble with.

I, in the Jungian** way, believe that dreams are a way for our conscience to see into the deeper reaches of our sub-consciences. With that said, what the hell does my dream mean?? I dreamt that I was playing with a sword***, just twirling it this way and that, when I stabbed myself in the heart. Yes, the heart, not the eye, I didn't slice someone's arm off, no, I stabbed myself in the heart while twirling the sword I just happened to have. Shortly after I stabbed myself, the sword broke right at the spot where it entered my skin, so I pressed the bit of sword into me so that it would stay put, and hopefully I would lose less blood. But, of course, I coughed and the piece popped right out. I grabbed the nearest piece of fabric, which happened to be a pair of clean underwear, and which a random guy attached to me using a bathing suit top.**** I laid down where I was, which was in this room of sorts where the people kept moving about as if they were swimming, and I believe that there was even some swimming going on. There was a lazy river in this "room" which I even floated about on using a tube, in an attempt to calm myself. It was a long time before my stab wound was attended to, during which I really believed that I was going to die. The whole time I was waiting to get fixed, the people around me were trying to reassure me that I was going to be fine. I was getting frustrated that everyone was taking their sweet time to help me, but I finally gave in and relaxed. I fell asleep or passed out, and when I came to***** I was fine. And then I woke up.

So, any ideas?


*Yes, that is a medical term.
**For all you hooligans, that's pron. "Yoongian"
***Well, what else would you do with a sword?
****To apply pressure to the wound with the least amount of effort...duh.
*****Yes, all the while I was still dreaming.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Part Deux

Since I had a crazy night/day, and since Nicole was working, I decided to go to Starbucks before going home, on my way up from Long Branch. On my way back, I sort of slid clear across Rt 18--luckily the road was pretty empty and no one was in my way. I spun* around and, thankfully, hit a large amount of soft snow, which cushioned my car against the barrier that eventually stopped me. I had to wait an hour, in the back of a police SUV so that I could stay warm without suffocating, for a tow truck to yank me out of the snow pile. But, my Ruby sustained minimal damage and I was able to drive away.
When I got back to New Brunswick, I drove around a bit and only found one space that wasn't completely covered in snow, and, well, would not cause me to either get a ticket or get towed. The one problem was that I wasn't able to back into it, even though some of the snow had been removed by the person who had the spot last. A wonderful boy, "Frankie", came over to help push my car in, even digging out snow with his bare hands when he couldn't get a hold of a shovel. After digging and pushing, he was able to get my car into the last space in New Brunswick.
During our short conversation, I found out that he was 21, that he also lives in New Brunswick, and that he lives in a shelter near where I live. He was on his way home, late I must add, when he saw that I needed help.** I gave him some money, but he said that he would prefer my number, so I gave him both. :) I need more friends around me, and he would be a nice coffee or movie companion.
All in all, not a shabby weekend. It seems like I was in the right place at the right time for these two people to come into my life. Almost as if I was supposed to meet them.


*Spun, spinned?
**He was even running so that he could make curfew, but took the time to help me.

Alison's Snow Wonderland

Part Un

Last Saturday night, as I was watching Never Been Kissed on TBS or TNT or whatever, I was going a little stir crazy. I wanted to go out, but I didn't want to find something to do nor find something to do whatever with. So, when the Internet Boy, who I was texting and then talking to, suggested meeting him at a bar in Long Branch, I practically jumped at the idea. Strangely enough, though, I wasn't really nervous, it being the first time that we met, and I was really determined to drive all the way down there in blizzard like conditions.
I get there, after an hour and a half drive*, I get to the bar, meet the boy and instantly notice the bartender. Now, I wasn't looking for someone else, even though I wasn't completely taken with the Internet Boy, but I watched this bartender the whole night, or so he later told me. This bartender, who we will call "Mike", came with Internet Boy and I to another friend's house, where the 3 of us were staying the night.** When Internet Boy told me that he was going up stairs and asked me to join him, I told him that I was going to sleep on the couch.
Mike and I start to talk, after he went upstairs, about everything: from whether or not God exists to our diets...and then we made out. He and I stayed up the whole night, talking, kissing, messing around, and it was really exciting. Usually it is nice to get some action, but just nice. He is a very exciting person. Alive. And he can read me perfectly, which is scary yet strangely comforting. We left the house we were staying at at about 8:30 Sunday morning. We rode all around town, got lost, found our way, then got lost again. He even humored me and ran on the beach and allowed me to take pictures of the tumultuous sea, even though it felt as if it was below o.
Later that day we went to the bar, played pool, kissed when no one was watching*** He called me his girl when he was introducing me to his bar buddies, and I didn't correct him. Internet Boy joined us later, and, knowing that Mike and I had made out, it was strange to see him.**** Internet Boy kept asking me if I was alright...like every 5 minutes. I just told him that I was tired.
Drunkenly, Mike asked me to marry him. This wasn't totally unexpected since we had been talking about marriage in a round about way the whole night, as in I jokingly telling him that I could no longer marry him, or him telling me that we were getting a divorce after a debate on some moral issue. But, still, he looked me dead in the eyes and asked me. So scary, mostly because my answer wasn't "no", it was "Let's discuss this when you are sober." And, later, when I asked him if he remembered proposing to me, he asked "So, are we getting married?"
He walked me to my car before I left, and I, which I never do, made sure that we each had the other's number in our phones. I even used his phone to call mine, just in case. I never ever care enough to do that. And, even if he said that he was going to call me, I still was going to call him.*****
So, I have no idea what is going to happen. But, if nothing happens between Mike and I, I at least have a renewed hope that there is a reason to stop looking and wait for that one.


*
Due to the snowy conditions. No, I would not drive that far for a boy that I didn't know.
** I planned stayed the night because of the weather conditions...really.
***Being that there were all of 3 people there, it wasn't too hard.
****Mike told him...he had to due to the, um, mark I left behind on his neck. Yes, I know, I'm not 14.
*****I am calling him later.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

5...4...3...1...Off Blast!

Sometimes you see something and hope beyond all hope that it is fake. A joke. Such was the case when I was fortunate enough to watch this music video*. It stars a mullet-sporting spaceman of a keyboardest** and his pink-haired spacewoman side-kick on keyboard guitar***. Both of them speak very broken English, being from some Eastern European country****. One of my favorite lines has to be, hands down, "I is much stronger than Darth Vapor." Please Please Please check it out.




*They really aren't singing, but the woman in the clip IS doing the robot, so I am allowing it to be considered a music video.
** I don't think that he is really playing, but since he IS standing in front of a keyboard, he will be allowed the title.
*** Which she isn't playing, either.
**** I think.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Queen of Hearts?

Ok, let me first say that I am not bitter, nor do I begrudge people the happiness found in their relationships. It is hard, though, to love and be loved during this time of year. I have many people in my life whom I love and who love me, but I am still led to believe that this isn't enough. I must have a "love" or a "lover" to be complete, if only at this time of year. The rest of the year can be filled with flings and flirtations, but if I go out on Valentine's Day with a random boy, I am desperate. If I go out on Valentine's Day with a friend, esp a female friend, I am sad. Pathetic. I want to enjoy this time of sweets and flowers and red (one of my favorite colors) without needing a man on my arm, let alone a man that I am in love with. Way too much work. I usually spend the "holiday" with my sister...a person I love, but whom I am not in love with. Isn't that good enough?