Blonde Story Short

Good Lord, is it just me or is this December 97 days long???? I have been planning and planning (and buying and buying) for what seems like forever. For crying out loud, are we there yet?! I've got 4 cities and many a'peeps to see before midnight strikes on the 25th. The next day, I'll be hitting the "fresh pow" reeeeal good-that means I'll be skiing and also that I'm extremely athletic, obviously. The highlight of preparing for all of these upcoming festive treats was the 2 hour naked break down that took place on the floor of my bedroom Sunday afternoon. Stop imagining it, that's creepy. In an attempt to do some forward-packing, packing ahead of time if you will, I ended up uncontrollably crying due to the ski clothes I have, but could not locate. That seems totally worthy of an all out tantrum in the privacy of ones own 10X10 space, doesn't it? C'mon it's never about what it's "about" as some cynical males say in reference...

but I refuse to be a part of it. Thanks to a loyal reader and friend, it was brought to my attention that my previous post was the equivalent of a 20-something male pretending he doesn't like you...confusing and sorta stupid. The last thing I want to do is be one of those vague writers (yea I just called myself a writer, deal with it) that thrives on making everyone guess what the frick she's talking about. Not about that. So, I will now clarify. See, you even know the next move, that's never happened. There are two life sitches going on that lead to my deep (like I should've been wearing a long cardigan and converse while writing) post on controlling situations...aka picking noses. The first is that while I am as blessed as ever to have my current occupation (benies, PTO, and all) I still would have never guessed, or even chosen with the knowledge I thought I had, to end up out of a classroom. I loved being a teacher, it's a part of my being ( it's who I am...

You can pick your friends. And you can pick your nose. But you can't pick your friend's nose. (In my opinion, that depends on what kind of friends you have....I won't over think it) I've always thought this was a pretty punny saying. Word play-who doesn't love it? Like most common phrases that I try to repeat, I always screw this one up in some way. Usually I start with something like, "You can choose your friends..." you see where it goes astray. More important than not picking noses, I've been in thought, real deep thought ;) lately about not picking circumstances. While I'm a proponent of making life happen...doing what you gotta do...and all that, I realize as I get older that there is just $hit (it's a family site) that happens that we cannot pick our way out of. I constantly try to think of possible better outcomes if I (queen of the world) were given more control, in having to deal with a situation that seems so unnecessary and...not fu...

that's what people are talking about when they say they took "E" right? Stay tuned...

I'm all for affirming others. I was a teacher who gave all my students "A's" for cryin out loud (most of them anyway). I think telling someone or being told by someone, how great they/you are is absolutely wonderful! I've even build an entire relationship on it. Calm down I'm kidding. What's really bugging me lately is the constant ooooogling that goes on publicly...not publicly like in the middle of Fresh & Easy, like really publicly; Hollywood. I may have written a few choice critiques one time on a little lady named Oprah. Her Harpo-rrific show is a prime example of a total oogling fest. This is all based on the episodes I've been forced into watching of course (OK I willingly watched her interview with Georgie W, what can I say I'm a sucker for a sweet smile and Republican values???) Moving on... Every time I watch (or am viciously tied up and given no choice but to do so), the Big O has one of her Hollywood besties on so they can yuck it ...

While I see the many practical and logistical reasons to shack, I will continue (until further notice) to remain a tenant in my Obcean apartment where I pay rent, utilities, Internet and cable. I am of course motivated by more than just the ghastly bills-the perks include but are not limited to guiltless enjoyment of trashy television without the standard male-I-can't-believe-you-watch-this exaggerated exhale during commercial breaks, and instead with a female companion who enjoys theses classic shows about the upper east side and precocious high schoolers even more than I, assuming that's possible. Bottom line: There'll be NO shacking. What occurs instead... It started out with a shelf. No, not a book shelf-you know I don't read. A shelf in the medicine cabinet. Running into a no deodorant nor toothbrush situation more than once results in the evolution of a girlfriend shelf. A pro, in addition to the obvious better hygiene: the skeevy yet casual "glancing" a...