By law (?) I am required to take at least an hour lunch break, so here I am, halfway through it, blogging about something no one will ever read. Once this is over I will have another 2 and a half hours before I can run through those tantalizing doors. I do actually like where I work (as a receptionist in a law firm) and I'm happy to be working to earn some dollars, but I'm one of those wild spirits that can't sit down for too long or focus on one thing for more than an hour.
What makes it even worse is this morning I had the privilege to take my sister and my cousin to the airport. My sister had won an all expense paid trip for 5 days to Cabo, Mexico (which she deserves). So, as she and said cousin are in the air right now heading to beautiful far away lands, I'm scarfing down a Healthy Choice frozen dinner wearing constricting business clothes and hoping the phone doesn't ring. Don't think I'm bitter-just super duper antsy. What I really want to do is race home with little or no traffic, throw on some jeans and a hoodie, and then flop on the couch to watch American Idol. And maybe text my super cute best friend (boyfriend?).
18 minutes left in my break. If it wasn't so cold outside (and no one there to stare at me) I would go outside and play in the fountain thats literally 4 1/2 yards from my window. I hate who ever decided to put it there, behind the glass and forever out of my reach. Not to mention off limits.
At the moment I have a wonderful view of Smoker Tom the Alien Man who paces back and forth hourly sucking down a cigarette. He's not really an alien. He just works at a place where they have a ton of "Alien Proof". I bet he has an interesting boss. This building is right outside my window also, past the seductive fountain...and they keep their blinds shut.
10 minutes left. I'm gonna go pee.
Let me out of here!!
April 06, 2011
March 18, 2011
The Club
The Club. A place where boys get drunk and the girls even drunker. Everybody dresses to the 9s or in the least amount of clothes possible before you're considered naked. Lights are low and music is blasting, girls in the cages dancing for (not enough)$ an hour. The DJ plays anything full of bass, fast and mentioning "the dirty deed".
Last Tuesday I had the opportunity to visit The Club when my long haired cousin told me that a few dance class friends and his hip self were going to the School of Rock on Mill. After my slightly tanned cousin rebutted all my excuses, I found myself dressed club-like, yet modestly covered (15 points for me), and off we went!!
After getting the "Sexy X's" marked on my hands, we ventured into the steamy dark room, not knowing what horrors awaited us. After my eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, the first things I noticed (in this order) was the music, the amount of people, the dancing poles, and the urge to claw my eyes out when I noticed the pole was occupied by two very large, very sweaty, lingerie clad, cellulite ridden ladies (-7 for un-niceness). The shear force of their bumping and grinding sent ripples that could easily be rated a 8.5 on the richtor scale. I pointed this out to my averagely tall cousin who may have already started bleeding from the eyes, so we quickly moved to the center of the floor to dance, facing the other way of course.
So my awkwardly smiling cousin, his girly dance friends and I tore up the dance floor, twisting, swiveling, dropping it to the ground. Basically shaking what our mothers gave us. Men started to close in, first dancing with the curvy short booty shaker with us (-10 points for not being the coolest dancer there), then slowly picking off the rest of us. Personally I thought I would be safe since I was a white girl with curly hair that was pulled back into a sad ponytail. Oh, was I wrong.
First comes Stocky Grabby Man. Not too sure if he's cute or not because the guy is usually behind the girl when dancing at such places. We commenced with the dancing, and yes, he lives up to his name. We bumped and ground to the music while I did my best to fend off his tentacle hands (5 points for prudence). All the while, my physically thin cousin watched him like a hawk, as well as my face for any distress signals. After about 3 songs, I did get a little tired of batting the Dancing Kraken. I mouthed 'help' and made a sweat covered escape into the crowd, but unfortunately only after I got Stocky Grabby Man's number.
Second! Oh, second. It was a very large, very black, slightly older male. I freaked. Where I was spawned, there were only a few black people, so this was a new experience. And they're supposed to be great dancers ( 0_o ). Fortunately, he was the slow (and sleazy) dancer type. By now, I knew 80% of the sweat on me had not originated from my body. At least he was decent enough to pull my shirt back down when it continued to rise. Once again watched closely by my wonky toed cousin, (by now we had hand signals, 10 points for strategy), and once again, a clean escape was made.
There was hardly a break. The next male came swiftly but not silently. Skinny, short and pale, he proceeded to undulate around me and sing loudly to the song, half the time with the words and the other half singing 'nah naaah nah nah naah!!' when the words escaped his inebriated cranium. This didn't last long (8 points for stopping while I was ahead). I made the signal and he back off, hands raised when my oddly intimidating cousin stepped in and said he was 'dancing with his sister'.
The club continued to be hoppin', the ladies fine and the hips poppin'. I could tell the night was winding down for our gracefully gyrating group. Then a hand landed on my shoulder. It was the slightly older black man again. For some reason, my refusal skills are excruciatingly below average (-6 points). We danced, I got drenched in sweat (again) and he tried to make a move at my neck, then proceeded to nibble on my ear, and then put his tongue in my unfortunate little ear! Shocked into stupidity, we finished the song and I made a dash for it when the DJ started talking. I located my posse while I cleaned out my ear, and we all decide it was time to go when they started the "who is wearing the least amount of clothing" contest.
We departed, the band disbanded, and began the trek back home. During the drive, my exceptionally rhythmical cousin and I discussed the nights events, chatting like old hens (unfortunatly 150 points go to him for being the coolest bodyguard ever. I would like to, however, award myself an additional 50 points for going through all that and finding it hilarious).
All in all, it was fun to "shake my groove thang", be in good company, and gain another story to share with you, and also with future posterity. I bet my grandkids will get a kick out of "Stories about Grandma's Youth".
Final Score
Me: 65 points
My stickshift driving cousin: 150 points
Last Tuesday I had the opportunity to visit The Club when my long haired cousin told me that a few dance class friends and his hip self were going to the School of Rock on Mill. After my slightly tanned cousin rebutted all my excuses, I found myself dressed club-like, yet modestly covered (15 points for me), and off we went!!
After getting the "Sexy X's" marked on my hands, we ventured into the steamy dark room, not knowing what horrors awaited us. After my eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, the first things I noticed (in this order) was the music, the amount of people, the dancing poles, and the urge to claw my eyes out when I noticed the pole was occupied by two very large, very sweaty, lingerie clad, cellulite ridden ladies (-7 for un-niceness). The shear force of their bumping and grinding sent ripples that could easily be rated a 8.5 on the richtor scale. I pointed this out to my averagely tall cousin who may have already started bleeding from the eyes, so we quickly moved to the center of the floor to dance, facing the other way of course.
So my awkwardly smiling cousin, his girly dance friends and I tore up the dance floor, twisting, swiveling, dropping it to the ground. Basically shaking what our mothers gave us. Men started to close in, first dancing with the curvy short booty shaker with us (-10 points for not being the coolest dancer there), then slowly picking off the rest of us. Personally I thought I would be safe since I was a white girl with curly hair that was pulled back into a sad ponytail. Oh, was I wrong.
First comes Stocky Grabby Man. Not too sure if he's cute or not because the guy is usually behind the girl when dancing at such places. We commenced with the dancing, and yes, he lives up to his name. We bumped and ground to the music while I did my best to fend off his tentacle hands (5 points for prudence). All the while, my physically thin cousin watched him like a hawk, as well as my face for any distress signals. After about 3 songs, I did get a little tired of batting the Dancing Kraken. I mouthed 'help' and made a sweat covered escape into the crowd, but unfortunately only after I got Stocky Grabby Man's number.
Second! Oh, second. It was a very large, very black, slightly older male. I freaked. Where I was spawned, there were only a few black people, so this was a new experience. And they're supposed to be great dancers ( 0_o ). Fortunately, he was the slow (and sleazy) dancer type. By now, I knew 80% of the sweat on me had not originated from my body. At least he was decent enough to pull my shirt back down when it continued to rise. Once again watched closely by my wonky toed cousin, (by now we had hand signals, 10 points for strategy), and once again, a clean escape was made.
There was hardly a break. The next male came swiftly but not silently. Skinny, short and pale, he proceeded to undulate around me and sing loudly to the song, half the time with the words and the other half singing 'nah naaah nah nah naah!!' when the words escaped his inebriated cranium. This didn't last long (8 points for stopping while I was ahead). I made the signal and he back off, hands raised when my oddly intimidating cousin stepped in and said he was 'dancing with his sister'.
The club continued to be hoppin', the ladies fine and the hips poppin'. I could tell the night was winding down for our gracefully gyrating group. Then a hand landed on my shoulder. It was the slightly older black man again. For some reason, my refusal skills are excruciatingly below average (-6 points). We danced, I got drenched in sweat (again) and he tried to make a move at my neck, then proceeded to nibble on my ear, and then put his tongue in my unfortunate little ear! Shocked into stupidity, we finished the song and I made a dash for it when the DJ started talking. I located my posse while I cleaned out my ear, and we all decide it was time to go when they started the "who is wearing the least amount of clothing" contest.
We departed, the band disbanded, and began the trek back home. During the drive, my exceptionally rhythmical cousin and I discussed the nights events, chatting like old hens (unfortunatly 150 points go to him for being the coolest bodyguard ever. I would like to, however, award myself an additional 50 points for going through all that and finding it hilarious).
All in all, it was fun to "shake my groove thang", be in good company, and gain another story to share with you, and also with future posterity. I bet my grandkids will get a kick out of "Stories about Grandma's Youth".
Final Score
Me: 65 points
My stickshift driving cousin: 150 points
February 16, 2011
Daily Laugh
I'm going to say it's absolutly true that if you go a whole day without laughing then it's an incomplete day. Everybody needs their daily laugh so her's a few that made me laugh.
February 14, 2011
Happy VDay Mother F.... uh, nevermind.
Not to say I'm a floozy, but this is the first Valentines day for a few years now that I haven't had a "Valentine". Personally, I find this quite liberating. This year, my February 14 is just an average day, except with a few extra whiny friends thrown in the mix.
I feel ready to start a new lifestyle. Recently I moved from Washington to Arizona in attempts to start a new life with college and a new job and possibly other cool things that come alone with getting older, like clearer skin. The hard part now is throwing things in action. So far on my list of accomplishments since moving: I have watched some new and exciting movies, I filed my taxes as well as my sister's, spent a good portion of my saving on cool AZ clothes, drawn a picture or two and read a couple books. Not really what I had imagined prior to moving.
Sometimes motivation is the hardest part of the day. I know what I need to do and most of the time I have the means to do it and definitely the mental capacity. But the thing I lack the most is that raw drive to get things done. Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning turns into an arduous task, but that can be blamed on the lack of sleep.
In all my years of life (18.5), one of the thing's I've discovered about myself, and I don't know if it's like this for most of you, is without fail, I have the hardest time trying to fall asleep after a long day of non-productivity. A day started late, watch a movie, make a sandwich, text a friend, watch another movie and read a book. Then it's time for bed and nothing is accomplished. There isn't really anything that says "I've existed today." An impact was made on nothing.
After a day like that, I usually stay up late doing something random and then lay in bed till 1 or 2 because my body is twitching and I have a sense of (what I now can identify) uselessness. It's destructive physically and mentally. Just thinking about it makes my legs start to get restless.
Now that I've got myself rilled up, I think I'm going to make a plan of attack. Nothing looks better to me than a nice organized (preferably typed) to-do list. Well, nothing besides maybe a freshly dirtied Bruce Willis.
I feel ready to start a new lifestyle. Recently I moved from Washington to Arizona in attempts to start a new life with college and a new job and possibly other cool things that come alone with getting older, like clearer skin. The hard part now is throwing things in action. So far on my list of accomplishments since moving: I have watched some new and exciting movies, I filed my taxes as well as my sister's, spent a good portion of my saving on cool AZ clothes, drawn a picture or two and read a couple books. Not really what I had imagined prior to moving.
Sometimes motivation is the hardest part of the day. I know what I need to do and most of the time I have the means to do it and definitely the mental capacity. But the thing I lack the most is that raw drive to get things done. Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning turns into an arduous task, but that can be blamed on the lack of sleep.
In all my years of life (18.5), one of the thing's I've discovered about myself, and I don't know if it's like this for most of you, is without fail, I have the hardest time trying to fall asleep after a long day of non-productivity. A day started late, watch a movie, make a sandwich, text a friend, watch another movie and read a book. Then it's time for bed and nothing is accomplished. There isn't really anything that says "I've existed today." An impact was made on nothing.
After a day like that, I usually stay up late doing something random and then lay in bed till 1 or 2 because my body is twitching and I have a sense of (what I now can identify) uselessness. It's destructive physically and mentally. Just thinking about it makes my legs start to get restless.
Now that I've got myself rilled up, I think I'm going to make a plan of attack. Nothing looks better to me than a nice organized (preferably typed) to-do list. Well, nothing besides maybe a freshly dirtied Bruce Willis.
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