First day of fall.

Today's high: 87F
Effing SWEET. 87F is quite exciting, you see. Though this wasn't a particularly hot summer we still reached the usual 120F. Even yesterday we were over the 100s. This radical change is abundantly welcome. It is breezy and chilly. This morning I almost said "burrrr" and today I am wearing 1/4 sleeves with an undershirt and even close-toed shoes. Today is a good day. It's supposed to get back to the 90's Friday and Saturday but then it's a steady drop from there. Provided the damn weather report didn't lie to me. I check it every day hoping for double digits.
I am effing thrilled for picnic weather. AH! A PICNIC! Of course now Butthole told me he won't be here all weekend because he has to go back to College City Saturday night. That really sucks. I was looking forward to spending time with him enjoying the cool weather.
Yes, I realize this blog is quickly becoming a "Here's how much I love Butthole today" blog but what can I say: my life is uneventful and he's incredibly charming.
Nonetheless, the weather is cooling down. Plus I am planning on going up to College City on the 17th and it's usually 10 degrees cooler so I might even get to wear a sweater when I go (!). Who knows, at this rate we might even get a real winter this year. I might actually need to wear long sleeves this Thanksgiving.

Torn.

Something else seems to have happened over the weekend... something I was unaware of until yesterday morning. I received an e-mail from Butthole on Saturday morning. My first thought was "Hmmm... when on earth did he send this? I was with him the whole weekend." Weird. The subject line was "Please honor Jesus in your life‏." I thought maybe it was supposed to be some ironic e-mail or something. After all, I am not-fully-certain-Agnostic and Butthole is Agnostic with what I think are some pretty intense Atheist leanings. Weird. I opened it and I saw that he only sent to his mother and me. At the sight of this my thought was "WTF? And GREAT, now his mom is going to have a field day with my idiotic e-mail address." Weird. Then came the content:
DID YOU KNOW THESE FACTS?
I SURE DIDN'T TILL NOW
Death is certain but the Bible speaks about untimely death! Make a personal reflection about this..... Very interesting, read until the end.....
It is written in the Bible (Galatians 6:7): 'Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man sow, that shall he also reap.
Here are some men and women who mocked God :
John Lennon (Singer): Some years before, during his interview with an American Magazine, he said:
'Christianity will end, it will disappear. I do not have to argue about that. I am certain. Jesus was ok, but his subjects were too simple, today we are more famous than Him' (1966). Lennon, after saying that the Beatles were more famous than Jesus Christ, was shot six times.
Tancredo Neves (President of Brazil ): During the Presidential campaign, he said if he got 500,000 votes from his party, not even God would remove him from Presidency. Sure he got the votes, but he got sick a day before being made President, then he died.
Cazuza (Bi-sexual Brazilian composer, singer and poet): During A show in Canecio ( Rio de Janeiro ), while smoking his cigarette, he puffed out some smoke into the air and said:'God, that's for you.' He died at the age of 32 of LUNG CANCER in a horrible manner.
The man who built the Titanic. After the construction of Titanic, a reporter asked him how safe the Titanic would be. With an ironic tone he said: 'Not even God can sink it' The result: I think you all know what happened to the Titanic
Marilyn Monroe (Actress) She was visited by Billy Graham during a presentation of a show. He said the Spirit of God had sent him to preach to her. After hearing what the Preacher had to say, she said: 'I don't need your Jesus'.
A week later, she was found dead in her apartment
Bon Scott (Singer) The ex-vocalist of the AC/DC. On one of his 1979 songs he sang: 'Don't stop me; I'm going down all the way, down the highway to hell'. On the 19th of February 1980, Bon Scott was found dead, he had been choked by his own vomit.
Campinas (IN 2005) In Campinas , Brazil a group of friends, drunk, went to pick up a friend... The mother accompanied her to the car and was so worried about the drunkenness of her friends and she said to the daughter holding her hand, who was already seated in the car: 'My Daughter, Go With God And May He Protect You.' She responded: 'Only If He (God) Travels In The Trunk, Cause Inside Here....It's Already Full ' Hours later, news came by that they had been involved in a fatal accident, everyone had died, the car could not be recognized what type of car it had been, but surprisingly, the trunk was intact. The police said there was no way the trunk could have remained intact. To their surprise, inside the trunk was a crate of eggs, none was broken
Christine Hewitt (Jamaican Journalist and entertainer) said the Bible (Word of God) was the worst book ever written. In June 2006 she was found burnt beyond recognition in her motor vehicle.
Many more important people have forgotten that there is no other name that was given so much authority as the name of Jesus.
Many have died, but only Jesus died and rose again, and he is still alive.
'Jesus'
PS: If it was a joke, you would have sent it to everyone. So are you going to have courage to send this?.
I have done my part, Jesus said 'If you are embarrassed about me, I will also be embarrassed about you before my father.'
At the end was the regular plug-in of "pass this on or such and such will kill all your children blablabla." Now I was incredibly confused. Butthole dislikes most forwards, and certainly ones that can be proven wrong so very, very easily. Seriously. Snopes.com people. I thought, "Is he some born-again Christian and didn't tell me? Was there a memo I missed?" I figured we'd discuss it at night when we talked. Well last night he text me and said, "Did you get an e-mail from me?" I had. "I didn't send that." Oh the mystery!
I'll spare the detective work. It turns out HIS MOTHER SENT IT TO ME. Let me repeat that: HIS MOTHER SENT ME A FORWARD URGING ME TO SEE THE ERROR OF MY WAYS FROM HER SON'S E-MAIL ACCOUNT.
I am torn. I am torn in all directions. Part of me is absolutely horrified. I am weirded out. I am amused. I am offended. I am embarrassed. I feel a little guilty, too. I feel bad that I'm having all of these feelings because, well, I respected this woman. She may not like me and she may look for any reason to complain about me but she is still Butthole's mom. Just because she can't look past her own feelings for the sake of her son doesn't mean I can't. It's just that this is too ridiculous. She isn't even my mother-in-law! She's behaving like Marie Barone! Butthole and I are 20 years old. We just had our first anniversary. It's way too early for her to be pulling these stunts.
I guess I started backwards on my "feelings list" so let's continue that way and then it'll be clearer why I feel guilty:
Embarrassed: I feel embarrassed FOR HER. The e-mail started out stating that it was chalk-full of "FACTS." Proof that these aren't facts are just a click away. Butthole and I frequently laugh at those who state their words as fact when they aren't. Ahhhh... I feel bad that I am so tempted to mock her!!!
Offended: This woman has never asked me about my thoughts on religion or on anything for that matter. In fact, she has made every visit at her house positively awkward. All she knows is that I'm not Christian. She knows this because Butthole told her, not because she asked me. How dare she send me some e-mail to try and "educate" me on my beliefs when she doesn't know the first thing about my feelings? How disgustingly passive aggressive. How offensively judgemental.
Amused: Remember the bit about "FACTS"? I happen to know that that is not an exact quote from John Lennon. In fact, the real quote almost shows him speaking of Christianity in a positive light, in my opinion. Also, why did God take 14 years to kill him? Hmm.. convenient. Why was some woman's idea of protecting her daughter praying for her when she should have been stopping her from putting herself in such an obviously dangerous situation? I'm pretty sure my mom would knock my teeth out before allowing me to go on my merry way in a car with a drunk driver. And why were there eggs in the trunk of the car? How effing weird is that? Again with the wanting to mock her. GUILT!
Weirded out: Did I mention she sent this from Butthole's account? Wtf?
Last but certainly not least, HORRIFIED: So what is she trying to say? God is going to kill me? Yup... not convincing. Is this seriously her idea of luring me into Christianity? Believe or die? I haven't finished reading the Bible but Butthole has already spoiled the ending. I have it on good authority that God stopped smiting people after Jesus was crucified. I thought God was forgiving. Am I supposed to believe that out of all the darn people in the world (I hear there's a lot. I wouldn't know. I don't get out of the house much) God chose to kill these few? I know plenty of people who have said offensive things about God and Jesus and Christianity and last time I checked they were still alive and kickin. I'm also certain that Christians don't live forever and they don't all go peacefully in their sleep. I guess it's not just sinners that are destined for horrible and untimely deaths. I know someone, personally, who last year died a slow, cruel and painful death after battling cancer. She was a faithful believer. Ugh. Put another tally next to "offended". How effing dare she.
Now that I think about it more I am also thoroughly disgusted with this line of thinking. Ugh. That's all I can say.
And again with the guilt. She's Butthole's mom. She's Butthole's mom. She's Butthole's mom. He loves her and, damn it, I love him. By default I love her. I don't care if she doesn't feel that way about me. That's her prerogative. She may think she's superior than me with her higher education, her religion, and her perfect family but I sleep soundly knowing that I'm a good person and that I would never treat someone the way she treated me.
Torn. Torn. Torn.
And the reason I am letting it all out here is because I love him. I can't tell him all of this because... well... you know... And as much as I'd love to finally have an opportunity to bash her to my mom and my sister I can't do that to him. I don't want to give my mom and my sister a reason to dislike her. I don't need them thinking they need to defend me or criticize her every time I tell them something about her. This is too big. I'll just spill it here and go on about my day.
*Let it be said that I was also correct in thinking she'd have a field day with my e-mail address. I MADE THAT ADDRESS WHEN I WAS 14, WOMAN! I thought it was cute! Do you also want to judge my fashion choices from that time!? I WORE JELLY BRACELETS! DO YOU WANT TO JUDGE THAT TOO???? UGHHHHHHHH!!!

365

Happy anniversary to me! I know it's pretty cheesy to be excited about it but I'm really happy Butthole and I have made it a year. Don't get me wrong I never really doubted we would but there's still something very "mile stoney" about it.
There were definitely some tough moments. There were times we fought when I thought he was thisclose to really just giving up on me but I always knew that I couldn't quit. He makes me happy. Even when I want to strangle him he makes me happy.
The weekend was fun: We slept at odd times. We hung out with friends. I discovered my jealous bone is much less flexible than I thought. We ate food- not always good, not always healthy. We watched Braveheart (I know, ROMANCE!). It was an enjoyably unproductive weekend.
Oh, the jealousy thing? Riiiighhhttt... about that... Well Saturday night we hung out with some friends but I was totally pooped by midnight so I went to sleep. It made me a little sad because he stayed up hanging out with everyone but I figured: Whatever... right? Wrong. I woke up at 4AM to him laughing and joking with Old friend. Old friend is a girl. They have been friends for years. YEARS. Much like T-Bitch and I have been friends forever. But I was so bothered when I woke up and heard them laughing. He doesn't even twitch when T-Bitch and I go to dinner and I get myself riled up over him hanging out with some girl he's known forever while I'm in the other room. Go figure. I forced myself to get over it, obviously. It would have been ridiculous for me to ruin the weekend over that but hey, at least I learned something new: When Butthole says "Hey let's take a nap" when I know we are going to be staying up late that night well... I'll take a nap and stay up late with everyone else.
We went to dinner on Saturday night to celebrate. Dinner was "eh." We are not the fine dining kind but it was a one time thing. We had fun, we ate a lot, and we both looked very nice. He looks hoooootttttt in a polo shirt. And I don't even like polo shirts! Sigh... that boy.

Tales of the work place.

Oh! Add to the list of the funny things Butthole has said: "The colon is one dirty place." How could I forget that one? I laughed at it for weeks!

Anyway... So remember the lady with the husband with Alzheimer's? I had to call her yesterday to follow up on her procedure.
Me: Hi Lady this is Julia calling from Dr's office. I'm calling to see how you are feeling since we finished your procedure.
Lady: The paramedics were just here to see my husband! HE HAS DIARRHEA!
Me: :O Oh my goodness I'm so sorry.
Lady: He has diarrhea! He can't stop! He thought he was constipated and I just realized he has been eating prunes all day! I can't keep doing this! He has been acting up all day! He grabbed a shirt and he's trying to put it on on his legs! His legs don't fit in the arm holes and if he falls I don't know what I'm going to do! I'm only 5'1 he's 6'3 if he falls there's nothing I can do! I can't do this! He needs to go to a nursing home!
Me: ... ... ... I'm sorry I don't think I can help you... I'm calling from a specialist's office.
Lady: ... ... What? Who are you? Start over.
Me: This is Julia calling from Dr's office to see you are doing.
Lady: Oh my goodness! All I heard was doctor I thought you were from the paramedics who were just here. I've had such a terrible day I'm sorry. I am just fine I haven't had any more problems since the procedure. I've just had such a tough time I haven't had the chance to follow up.
Me: Oh good. That's not a problem there's no need to follow up for a few months so just worry about your husband for now. I'm sorry you are having a bad day.
Lady: I'm sorry I told you all that. You are a really good listener.
Me: It's ok. Hope your day gets better.

That was quite eventful. I just sat there unsure of what to say. Obviously I realize it's really sad. It must be really sad to think you have to put your spouse in a nursing home because you can no longer take care of him. It's sad that your partner even has to go to a home. Unfortunately as sad as it was it sure made for an interesting story. I do hope she gets everything sorted out, though. I really liked her.

A strongly worded (open) letter.

Dear Butthole's Mother,
Why, yes, yes I am quite aware that you don't like me. Particularly that you don't like me dating your son. Lady, I knew this before you even knew we were together.
What you need to understand is that I love your son. A lot, actually. Also, you should know that I'm not here to muddle his future and that I'm just as concerned about his success as you are. The reason your son never tells me to let him study is because he doesn't need to. I constantly encourage him to study and focus on his classes. I ask him if he's free to talk or if he needs to get enough sleep before a test. I wait til he's done studying before calling him which by the way, pushes my bed time by an hour. I'll have you know that I like getting my 8 hours of sleep. I like to but I don't because I know he needs the time to study so I adjust. If you'd like to say that the time spent with me could be spent studying I'd like to remind you that before I came along Butthole didn't spend every waking moment studyin either.
No, I don't plan on marrying him. I also don't plan to NOT marry him so you can just hold off before doing the happy dance. I simply don't plan! Seriously, as much as I like to plan things this isn't something I'm already picking themes for so chill the eff out. If you are so convinced I'm not the girl for him then time will tell but YOU certainly WON'T.
I don't know if you've noticed but Butthole and I have been together for nearly a year. I know, I know, it feels like you've been putting up with my heathen ways for far longer but it's only been a year. In that year his grades didn't drop, his workload didn't decrease and his time spent at home wasn't minimized. He also hasn't become a drug addict, a murderer, a raging alcoholic, or a father. He hasn't become disrepectful or defiant. He doesn't curse or talk back. So please, come up with a better argument as to why he shouldn't be with me.
Not to get cocky, but I make your son quite happy and I figured, as a parent, that would be your main concern.
Seriously Butthole's mom: Suck it. For the time being we are happy and in love. If in a few years we are still together and it seems his life is going down the crapper because of me then you can say whatever you want. Until then: He loves me and I love him. So ner.

The Incident.

It all started Friday of last week. A craving. I thought to myself: "Some ice cream sounds good." Something delicious like German Chocolate Cake from Baskin Robbins. I'll talk to Butthole and see if he wants some. Saturday came and went and we never got the chance to go. Sunday night came and we ran out of time. "I promise we'll go next weekend," he said. I sighed, "Alright."
Last night came and the craving was still there. I ate a good dinner and though I was full I was not satisfied. I wanted ice cream. I didn't have ice cream. I had half a mind to call Temporary Roommate and have her pick some up from the grocery store but I knew it wouldn't be the same. I would hold of. The time passed and I still needed some form of dessert. I settled for a can of delicious Mountain Dew. I try to abstain from soda on the week days but these were desperate times. I needed the fix.
I purposely keep the Mountain Dew in a dark corner in my cupboard: "Out of sight out of mind." I don't keep it in the fridge to avoid temptation. I walked over to the cupboard. I crouched down and reached. I felt around for the box. Oh no! I'm running low. Must add to the grocery list! But first...
I pulled out a glass. I filled it with ice cubes. I slowly poured the fizzy nectar over the ice cubes. I let it sit so it'd chill. I put the dishes away in the meantime. Once the beverage reached the perfectly chilled temperature I removed the ice cubes. There's nothing worse than watered down soda.
I went over to the couch and sat down. I took a sip. Oh yes... state of nirvana. I pushed play on my Sex and City DVD. I placed the cup on the arm rest (oh yes I did) as always.
Then... in slow motion... it happened. The cup stated to fall. Ever. So. Slowly. Nirvana was disrupted. I reached up to stop it but instead found myself covered from head to toe in lime green sugary delight. Seriously, it was everywhere. I sat there for a second evaluating the situation. What to clean first? Seeing as my (freshly washed) hair was covered in soda I decided to jump back in the shower. Standing in front of the mirror I evaluated the damage: my hair, my face, my chest, my shirt, my bra, my...underwear? WTF? That's talent. GRRUUUNNNTT.
I hosed off and got dressed. I went to the couch. I stepped on a wet carpet... on the opposite end of the couch from where I was sitting... what? Forget the underwear: THIS is talent. I had completely drenched the couch, table, wall, lamp and carpet. I sadly looked up at my cup. It wasn't even half empty! Now how did I do this much damage with so little liquid? This is just not right, this counters the laws of physics or something. Seriously they should make me into a character for the Justice League or something. I'd be Klutzy Girl. My superpower description would go as follows on a Wikipedia article: Klutzy Girl has the ability to cause obscene amounts of damage while executing the most mundane daily tasks. Here's my slogan: Messing up villain's interior decor one room at a time! What a sack of crap. I finished what was left of my soda as I shifted to find a dry spot on the couch.
Later that night when Temporary Roommate came home we talked and discussed our lives in general (Hey! Butthole couldn't talk last night I had to tell someone the day's events). Around midnight I was still surprisingly awake when Temporary Roommate said "Hey, wanna go to Denny's and get shakes?"
That's right... after trying to unsuccessfully satisfy a craving and possibly initiating an ant infestation in my living room I still ended up stuffing myself with a brownie covered in hot fudge topped with a scoop of ice cream. I'm going running tonight.

Cheese is made from dead babies.

I know. That is quite disturbing news. How ever will you eat pasta again? Probably the same as me: with gusto. I'm making Alfredo sauce from scratch this weekend. I'm excited.
So anyway, I don't' think cheese is really made from dead babies but that's what Butthole said this morning and I thought it was hilarious. He can really make me laugh more than anyone.
Funny things he's said in the past year:
"I'm so gay I should just put on a scarf and start watching Will and Grace"
"Pretty soon we are going to be on the same menstrual cycle"
"On a scale of one to ten..."
Anytime he says "That's what she said."
"I'll have you know I showered a few days ago"
"If I ever meet Organic Chemistry in an alley it better watch it! I'm not tough but I'd bring friends..."
"Life is a fickle bitch"
"Biostatistics is a slut and it can just fuck off"
"Don't think I'm above taking the back of my hand to your face!"
"Holy kids and parents who are freaking stupid batman!"
Etc... I'm pretty sure he'd find it severely creepy that I remember all these things. I am ok with that.

Go kill yourself.

Yes, you Ms. I'm-So-Cool-Because-I-Drive-Drunk.
I have so very little respect for drunk drivers. That's ok if you don't value your life. It's selfish and disgusting but so be it. However, just because YOU don't value YOUR life doesn't mean I don't value MINE. You want to kill yourself? Fine. Go sit in the bath tub, play some Story of the Year and slice your wrists open. I don't give a crap. Hell, be creative: Fill it up with water and then drop the plugged-in toaster.
The point is: Driving drunk not only endangers your life but it endangers others.
You are an asshole. I hope when the day you kill yourself finally comes you don't take anyone with you.

The blond, the boobs, the Julia.

Yish... I've been a-slackin' ... I guess I haven't had too much to reflect on lately... Instead, let's recap this weekend. (Don't get excited, this is mostly a blog about how unexciting I am)

Friday Night: Temporary Roommate and I went to the gym together. I'm not doing that again. She doesn't take working out as seriously as I do and it gives me too much of a chance to slack off. While working out we decided that we should go out for pasta. That part is not her fault: I'm ALWAYS thinking about food while I work out. Plus she actually was thinking of picking up a salad from my favorite Italian restaurant. I said "Screw that! Let's go out!" Yeah... Butthole is still gone, I've gotta fill the void somehow.
We get home. We shower (not together). We begin getting ready and I say, "Eggghhh... I don't know what I feel like wearing." She said,"Just throw something on." Um, duh, that's what I planned on doing, but it's still an ordeal for me: Which t-shirt with which jeans? I settled on a cute tank-top and some jeans. While towel-drying my hair I come out of my room and notice that Temporary Roommate's idea of "throwing something on" includes putting on a short, and I mean SHORT, black dress, a push up bra (and let me tell you: her cup spilleth over), and hair teased so high she gained about 4-5 inches which, by the by, were to be complemented with 3 inch heels.
Errrmmmm... Do I look ok? Should I wear a dress too?
The problem was that, sure, I could wear a dress, but I'm still no bombshell. My dress of choice was a strapless white dress with blue polka-dots. It actually came with tulle underneath to make it flare but I cut that shit off right after the first time I wore it (for an awards ceremony in school). Tulle? Me? Nope... too dressy. I would have probably worn it too, but my dog ate my white flip flops and I haven't replaced them yet. Oh yes, I was planning on wearing flip flops. Are you kidding? Me in a dress AND heels? Ha. I didn't even wear heels to my senior prom.
She says, "Oh Julia! Come on! Dress up tonight, let's get all dolled up and go out." "Umm... I took a shower AND washed my hair... isn't that dolled up enough?" Damn it... the cajoling ensues. So I go back and I put on make up. Ok, I would have done that anyway because I do, indeed, love make up. And I put on the dressiest outfit I can muster: dark Capri jeans, a white (dressy) tank top with black polka dots, and the wedge sandals I wore for my graduation... 2 years ago!
I was so damn uncomfortable. She loves the whole "look at me" porn look. Blah... give me Chucks and jeans any day.
In the end we changed our mind and went to a different restaurant -BAD CHOICE. The food was terrible. On the positive: I ran into an old friend and they gave us a discount. Also, it made for awesome dinner talk. "It" being my old friend who informed me that she's pregnant again Me: "CONGRATULATIONS!" Her: "Umm... yeah... try the veal piccatta." Awkward. Oh and by the way, her first baby's daddy is on America's Most Wanted... for first degree murder. Fun stuff.
Anyway, as soon as we got back in the car I took off my shoes and put on flats. Oh yes, I took an extra pair of shoes with me. Don't ever underestimate how uncomfortable I feel in dressy clothes (yes, my outfit that night WAS too dressy).
We got home and Temporary Roommate changed into even taller shoes (red platforms she purchased at the porn shop) and went out with her Bimbo BFF who, by coincidence, was wearing the same dress as Temporary Roommate. She was also wearing stiletto-peep toe shoes that put her unstable ankles at high risk of ending the night in the ER, hair extensions (nearly as high as TM's), and so much make up on her face I could feel the break out to come sprouting on MY face. Have fun girls! I'm going to bed.
Saturday: We decided to check out the water side event that was new this year. Another compare and contrast between Temporary Roommate and myself.
Her idea of getting ready to go to the river: Putting on her bikini and a black dress (not the same from last night), putting on make up, flat-ironing her hair and then teasing it 3 inches high.
My idea of getting ready for the river: Putting on my bikini, a pair of shorts and a black top, making sure my make up from last night is all gone, putting my hair in a pony tail, and covering my whole body with SPF 70. Oh and don't forget filling my re-usable water bottle with refreshing cold water.
Hmm...
We ran into some guys she met at a party the night before. On the positive: Hello? Free boat ride. Everything else: They were such tools I nearly made my tongue bleed while biting it every time they made a "clever" comment. I am such an party pooper.
*THIS BLOG INTERRUPTED BY AWESOME NEWS*
HOLY CRAP ON A CRACKER! Butthole is coming home Friday! AHHHHH!!!! I'm so excited I could poop!
*Now back to your regular programming*
When we got out of the water we walked to the car in our bikinis. After the 2nd request to kiss a stranger I decided: "Wet shorts be damned I'm putting my clothes back on." We still received yet another clever phrasing of "Hey ladies, where the party at?" Which incited a great response from Temporary Roommate:
Prick in car: Hey girls, you hanging out tonight?
Temporary Rommate: Yeah... BY MYSELF.
Cue Julia laughing her ass off. Great ending to an alright afternoon.
That night I went out with Phatty (wearing Crapi jeans, a black tank top, and my Chucks. I had my hair in a bun. Sweet, sweet comfort.) We went to McDonald's, ate hot fudge sundaes (extra fudge) and talked til they locked the doors. It was a good night. In contrast, Temporary Roommate didn't come home til the next morning.
Sunday I parked my butt on the couch and watched Sex and City all day. It was a great day.
Yes, I am quite a boring person. I am also quite alright with that.

Today's thoughts

I am facing another 2 weeks Butthole-less. Barf... Butthole-less weeks are so slow. I need more friends... and for my damn sister to move back into town... and a damn car... and the knowledge of how to even operate a vehicle. :P Ok I'm pathetic.
On the positive: That means I'll probably make it to the gym every day. I probably won't eat out for the time being. Spazpup will get walked every day. Errr... I don't have to shave my legs...? My life is so pointless.
Still, I'm hoping to talk T-Bitch into making a trip to College City to see Butthole at least for a day. I am bribing him with sushi.

Nom Nom Nom

Oh yes ladies and gents. Another sushi experience. If such event takes place you will, indeed, be informed.

On other random thoughts:

Oh boots how I covet thee...

*wipes drool off chin*

You in all your delicious 4 1/2 inch heeled glory. With your orgasmic black suede. Your ability to get me through the Green Glass Door. Oh boots...
I wish I had the charm to pull these off. I also wish I lived somewhere where I wouldn't look like a total weirdo in them. It's not that I care what people think: I just don't want to stand out. I may be a loud mouth but I hate being the center of attention. I'll probably never buy these. I might be bold and buy me some "boots with the fur" and wear them with some jeans this winter. Heck I may even go all out and buy purple boots instead of black ones. I think my psyche can handle that much.


Still... Don't count on it... I'm a big chicken and black is my always-safe staple.
Moving on...

Halloween!
Um, excitement! I just found out that Halloween falls on a Saturday this year. I REEEEEAAAALLLLLLYYYY want to dress up for a change. My ideal costume, you ask? I want to be Alice from Alice in Wonderland. I'd probably go with American McGee's version just for the sake of the holiday. Make a bit more slasher-like, ya mean?

Also, let's note: I could buy the delicious boots to go with my costume. Can I justify buying boots for a Halloween costume? It goes against my whole nature but hey, the world is filled with possibilities.

One hundred years to live.

My my... Today we had this lady come into the office and hot damn she was something. She' turning 80 in December but that wasn't what first caught my attention. She takes care of her husband who has Alzheimer's. She called telling us that she can't leave him at home and would it be ok if she brought him. "As long as he has something to read he'll sit in the waiting room with out a problem and behave himself" she said. It was so endearing.
Jesus- SHE'S 80! She is one spunky lady and you wouldn't put her at a day over 65.
I overheard her talking to my boss... she said "Well I'll be 80 in December, I figure I have another 10 to go." What a champ. I've always said I wouldn't want to live that long but let me tell you: If I have half the clarity of mind that she has then why the hell not? She sure is living it up.
She is so sweet to her husband and even though he's a bit slow because of the Alzheimer's the old man seems pretty jazzy himself. Sure, he gets a bit side tracked: "We need to hurry to and let the dog out!" He is still very sweet to her and gives her the goo-goo eyes like she's the most precious thing he's ever seen. I admire them. I admire her for her vivaciousness and dedication to her husband. I admire them both for the warmth their marriage seems to have sustained after all these years. Old people can be so sweet.
One should be so lucky to live that long and be that happy.

P.S. It's 09-09-09!!!

My new found love (but don't tell anyone).

Yuck, dare I say it? Indeed I dare: Exercise.
That damned word.

After 4 disgustingly long weeks I went back to the gym. Ok, I went a couple of times last week but this week it got serious. Plus I jumped back on the treadmill which I hadn't done in months (I've stuck to the elliptical).
I've always hated exercise. There were countless things I could have enjoyed more than getting sweaty and out of breath just to feel sore the next day (though there are activities in which I'd get sweaty and out of breath and be sore the next day which are acceptable. Oh yes. I'm scandalous). In high school I was always that kid that waited until the teacher turned around to stop doing the required push ups. I chilled behind the bleachers while everyone tossed a ball around until I got caught. I'll admit that last one also has something to do with my inability to play sports: I am embarrassingly uncoordinated. I only dressed out to get credit for the class because there was no way in hell I was going to do it again the following year.
All hate aside I still joined the gym. I go on hiatus from time to time but in the end I always go back. I don't just do it so I can look good in a bikini: I do it for my health. Those old people walking around with oxygen tanks and writing "stroke" or "heart attack" in their health history freak me out. Morbidly obese people who struggle getting in and out of their scooters at the grocery store scare me too.
So I go to the damn gym. I wear the ugly running shoes. I put on that tight and unflattering sport's bra (even more fun when you take it off drenched in sweat). I use the dreaded cardio equipment for half an hour. I sit in those damn torture chambers a.k.a. the various weight lifting contraptions. I've finally forced myself to work with free weights. I try to balance my uncoordinated ass on the exercise balls. I complain the whole. damned. time. Every time one the chipper employees ask me how I'm doing I grunt and say: "Sweaty."
Ugh.
Sure, I feel pretty proud that after getting away with the bare minimum in gym class when I was 14 (walk, jog or run a mile in under 15 minutes, guess which I did?) I can now out run the girl who did so much better than me 6 years later. It's sure. Let it be also said that she also played soccer and softball all 4 years.
Then something clicked on Monday. I'd been afraid to get back on the treadmill because even though I'd kept up my cardio on the other machines I thought I wouldn't be able to run like I did 5 months ago. On Monday my preferred machine was taken so I said "screw it" and went for it. I cranked up the level to my usual and took off. "Five minutes... hmmm not so bad... 10 minutes... Holy crap I'm not out of breath yet... 15 minutes... Mile and a half, hello!" Ok after that my short attention span got the best of me and I upped the speed to unnatural levels. After 3 minutes I was ready to die, but still! Nice job , Julia! You've still got it! I felt so good.
I realized something. I know a mile and a half in 15 minutes is not the greatest accomplishment in the world. Plenty of people do better but you know what? It's a huge accomplishment for me and it feels good.
Sure, I still have some sweet love handles and every step I took during those 15 minutes my thighs jiggled like pudding (not quite jell-o anymore). In the end, though, my body is capable of a lot. It only takes me a minute to regain my composure and catch my breath. That's good, right? My heart is in good condition. My lungs are in fairly good shape. I am proud of that. As long as my body can do all of these things I can put up with Butthole pinching my belly roll.
I'll admit I hurt my shins, though. I think running for 3 days straight after 5 months was a bit rough. I'll have to alternate between treadmill and elliptical but hey! My retarded shin splints can suck it, I can out-run the treadmill!

The ridiculous things my family does

Subtitle: The death of the iPhone.

The characters:
(Primary)
Phatty
Ingenious brother in law
Monster child
Newly purchased iPhone
(Secondary)
Oldest child
Baby Buttface
Random bystander

The setting: Large body of water

Once upon a time a woman named Phatty and her husband, ingenious brother-in-law, decided to take their kids to the river on a hot summer day. They packed up all the necessities for their children Oldest child, Monster child, and Baby Buttface. Along with their other equipment Phatty decided it'd be wise to place their newly purchased iPhones in individual plastic baggies to protect them from the splashing that is bound to take place during recreational activities by large bodies of water.
Upon their arrival at said large body of water ingenious brother-in-law, for unknown reasons, decided to take his newly purchased iPhone out of the baggie. Note that the iPhone is sensitive enough that one can still utilize it through a plastic baggie.
They set up camp and placed BabyButtface in her stroller. Ingenious brother-in-law placed the newly purchased iPhone in the cup holder attached to their stroller. Missing this bit of information, Phatty edged the strolled into the water so Baby Buttface could get her feet wet and splash the water in the adorable way babies do.
At some point while the grown ups weren't paying attention Monster child decided that atop the stroller there was something he needed at once. In the process of acquiring whatever object that was it seems Monster Child knocked newly purchased iPhone into the water.
It must have been several minutes before some random bystander pointed and said "Hey! Your phone is in the water!"

Rest in P... Wait, what? It doesn't end there?

Indeed it does not. Onto the second part of this story.
The day came to an end. Phatty and ingenious brother-in-law packed up both children and belongings and they drove off. In an attempt to dry the phone ingenious brother-in-law decided it was a good idea to hold the phone out the window. Let it be said that on this particular day it was about 115F out and the heat alone would have been enough to evaporate any water trapped within the phone, provided the phone was still at a salvageable point. It is unknown whether it was Phatty or Ingenious brother-in-law that was holding the phone but either way whoever it was dropped it causing a severe case of technological death.

Rest in Peace newly purchased iPhone. You had a short life, but a good one.

Not for your delicate boy eyes.

Damn it all to hell. I'm on my period.

This time around it didn't come with all the psychosis that usually accompanies it which was surprising to say the least. No mood swings and no bouts of self-deprecation. This was particularly good because Butthole was here this weekend and the poor guy always gets to deal with my inexplicable need to burst into tears and scream "I don't know what's wrong with me!"

Sure, the lack of hormonal craziness has definitely made things easier but these damn cramps! Plus how damned drained I feel, plus the fact that my intestines are twisting from constipation (maybe the cheese quesadilla for lunch was a bad idea) are making me want to curl up in a ball and wait for death to claim my body.

For the record, guys, don't ask what's wrong. The raging beast that resembles your girlfriend/sister/mother/cousin/etc is currently being controlled by her hormones and your sweet attempt to "solve" the problem is only going to further infuriate the screaming banshee before you. The only problem is that she's hormonal. This, unfortunately, is out of your control. Go about your business unless you know what's going to make her feel better.

I need a hug. :(