Sometimes we have those random conversations that include statements that start out with "When we retire, . . ." or "When we live in Europe, . . .". When we first got serious SGT T used to say that, if we had kids, he wanted to name our daughter Chili. Yes, the food. Haha, I laugh it off, tell him I'm willing to offer unsavory sexual favors in exchange for final veto power on the naming issue.
Little did I know that, apparently, SGT T has entirely too much time for thinking when he is out in the field. When he got home yesterday I was in the kitchen and he was unpacking when he yelled out to me that he had an idea. He then went on to explain that if we have a girl she will be called Chili and if we have a boy he will be called Sergeant.
me: Why, that's the most redneck thing I've ever heard!
Then he clarified, first, that he is indeed serious, and second, that I get to choose. I came to the only logical conclusion I could.
me: So, what you're really saying is that you don't want to have any more children!
November 26, 2008
November 24, 2008
This JUST in!
I sure hope you are sitting down . . .
In an effort to stir things up (read: not have a permanent imprint of my ass on just the one couch - see exhibit A), I sat on the love seat (see exhibit B) while eating my cereal for dinner tonight.
*Exhibit C, amongst all the computers and easily accessible accoutrement to my couchly domain, is my training device for the cats. If I'm lucky, they just hear me lifting the bottle from the table and I don't have to actually get up to go spray them. I can't wait to have kids.
In an effort to stir things up (read: not have a permanent imprint of my ass on just the one couch - see exhibit A), I sat on the love seat (see exhibit B) while eating my cereal for dinner tonight.
*Exhibit C, amongst all the computers and easily accessible accoutrement to my couchly domain, is my training device for the cats. If I'm lucky, they just hear me lifting the bottle from the table and I don't have to actually get up to go spray them. I can't wait to have kids.
November 23, 2008
Is January 20th soon enough?
I know a girl who is married to a boy. The boy went to work on Friday where everyone was told they were going to do another round of layoffs. A few hours later, the boy was told he was one of the ones getting let go. That day. And then he was escorted off the premises. Merry f*%$in' Christmas.
November 22, 2008
I thought I'd get to sleep through the night since SGT T is gone
To the person who called me 8 (EIGHT!) times between 3:13 am and 4:59 am this morning:
How did I become the lucky one, your special chosen harassee? In an interweb of millions, perhaps billions, of potential victims, you chose me and I'm torn between feeling annoyed and worried that you will choose me again tonight and feeling special, spotlighted, up on a pedestal because you chose me!
I must have slept through your first call or two, but I wonder why you kept calling after I answered and you realized I didn't speak French. What kind of conversation were you hoping we could have beyond the one we did:
you: yes, hi
me: uuuunnn
you: hello, i speak english
me: wha, huh?
you: yes, i speak french
me: i don't speak french, can i help you?
you: ok
Then you hung up. The almost childlike quality in your voice is what prevented me from yelling when you called back three more times. It is what had me saying "it is really late in the night here, can you please not call me anymore" instead of "what the f* do you want? quit calling me you crazy"! Who says that: "it is really late in the night"? The sleep deprived that are afraid to hurt the feelings of their prank caller, that's who.
That was when you messed up. You called and you used my name. My first name. If you had done that in the first or second call, maybe even the third, I would have freaked out and called you a scary stalker psycho but you had called enough times that I was actually awake and starting to think more clearly. After the initial extra THUMP my heart gave when my brain registered the fact that you knew my name, the kind of thump that comes with the little spike of adrenalin and makes your vision blur for a split second, I knew there were limited options as to how you could possibly know me. When that conversation ended I went in and turned on my computer and sure enough, you were calling me through Skype and I still had my calls set to forward to my cell.
On the one hand, thank you for reminding me I needed to change that. But on the other hand, are you that lonely that you need to choose random Skypers to call and bother? And if you are that lonely, couldn't you choose somebody with higher odds of a)being in the same time zone and therefore, uh, AWAKE, and second, speaking the same language? When I got up this morning and further investigated your calls I saw that your Skype name is listed as Kenza Farah, you live in France, and you are famous. Now, I don't know if you really are she, or if impersonating famous people is just a part of your prank calling cover, but if you are Ms. Farah, that would explain your childlike voice and perhaps your loneliness and desire to call a random stranger.
Next time, call me when I'm awake. And after you learn English. There are several languages I hope to learn in my lifetime but French isn't very high on that list, and since my husband is gone and I am looking for entertainment and blogging fodder I would more than likely have deep and meaningful conversations with you about what you should wear to your internet music awards show and about how hot your current boyfriend is. I don't think it is asking too much of you, for you to learn my language, if I am willing to let you call me at 4 in the morning again, do you?
OK, thanks, bye.
How did I become the lucky one, your special chosen harassee? In an interweb of millions, perhaps billions, of potential victims, you chose me and I'm torn between feeling annoyed and worried that you will choose me again tonight and feeling special, spotlighted, up on a pedestal because you chose me!
I must have slept through your first call or two, but I wonder why you kept calling after I answered and you realized I didn't speak French. What kind of conversation were you hoping we could have beyond the one we did:
you: yes, hi
me: uuuunnn
you: hello, i speak english
me: wha, huh?
you: yes, i speak french
me: i don't speak french, can i help you?
you: ok
Then you hung up. The almost childlike quality in your voice is what prevented me from yelling when you called back three more times. It is what had me saying "it is really late in the night here, can you please not call me anymore" instead of "what the f* do you want? quit calling me you crazy"! Who says that: "it is really late in the night"? The sleep deprived that are afraid to hurt the feelings of their prank caller, that's who.
That was when you messed up. You called and you used my name. My first name. If you had done that in the first or second call, maybe even the third, I would have freaked out and called you a scary stalker psycho but you had called enough times that I was actually awake and starting to think more clearly. After the initial extra THUMP my heart gave when my brain registered the fact that you knew my name, the kind of thump that comes with the little spike of adrenalin and makes your vision blur for a split second, I knew there were limited options as to how you could possibly know me. When that conversation ended I went in and turned on my computer and sure enough, you were calling me through Skype and I still had my calls set to forward to my cell.
On the one hand, thank you for reminding me I needed to change that. But on the other hand, are you that lonely that you need to choose random Skypers to call and bother? And if you are that lonely, couldn't you choose somebody with higher odds of a)being in the same time zone and therefore, uh, AWAKE, and second, speaking the same language? When I got up this morning and further investigated your calls I saw that your Skype name is listed as Kenza Farah, you live in France, and you are famous. Now, I don't know if you really are she, or if impersonating famous people is just a part of your prank calling cover, but if you are Ms. Farah, that would explain your childlike voice and perhaps your loneliness and desire to call a random stranger.
Next time, call me when I'm awake. And after you learn English. There are several languages I hope to learn in my lifetime but French isn't very high on that list, and since my husband is gone and I am looking for entertainment and blogging fodder I would more than likely have deep and meaningful conversations with you about what you should wear to your internet music awards show and about how hot your current boyfriend is. I don't think it is asking too much of you, for you to learn my language, if I am willing to let you call me at 4 in the morning again, do you?
OK, thanks, bye.
November 18, 2008
Free slurpee's for everyone!
Yesterday morning I started writing about what a funk I was in, how I have nothing to write about, I'm feeling down, I miss how I used to be able to laugh and make jokes and transfer that humor into my posts here. But then all of a sudden things looked better. Not great, but not so bad. It was really bizarre, and I have no idea what caused it or if it will last. I've a feeling that it wont last because nothing good ever does, but for now I'm enjoying it. I'm enjoying that I enjoy hanging out with SGT T during what little free time he has each night (tonight for example, we shared a whopping hour and 40 minutes before he surrendered to the luxury of bed), that I look forward to conversing with friends or family instead of hoping nobody calls so I don't have to put on a smile (because good hell sometimes , well a lot of times, you just don't want to smile, dammit).
Yesterday I spent about 6 hours job searching for jobs both here and in Oregon. I found one here that I applied for, but I'm not holding my breath. After spending so much time focused on the job search yesterday I wasn't too concerned with doing much job searching today. But during my morning coffee/computer time I ran out of blogs to read and so, on a whim, checked one of the websites I regularly check and low and behold! A job! In Oregon! And not just any job, mind you! No no, this job is the supervisor of a position I once held, one that I am now more than qualified to fill (based on my student loan bills)! I've applied for several other positions through this website and have had no luck and I'm pretty sure it is because I am not wording things in the best way for the automated scanner system to pick me as a qualified candidate. But whatever. My fingers are crossed and I'm leaving it at that.
Oh except I don't want to leave it at that! It would be so perfect! I'd be able to work at a place I really enjoyed working at. With people I enjoyed working with! I'd be able to take classes still! After 12 months of unemployment, 6 of which have been spent daily searching for jobs, I'm becoming a bit worried. Like I told SGT T last night, I don't want to be a housewife by default. I'd have to take a job at 7-11 or something equally as unappealing, the entire paycheck of such a job would go to student loan payments. And that, my friends, is no way to live!
Yesterday I spent about 6 hours job searching for jobs both here and in Oregon. I found one here that I applied for, but I'm not holding my breath. After spending so much time focused on the job search yesterday I wasn't too concerned with doing much job searching today. But during my morning coffee/computer time I ran out of blogs to read and so, on a whim, checked one of the websites I regularly check and low and behold! A job! In Oregon! And not just any job, mind you! No no, this job is the supervisor of a position I once held, one that I am now more than qualified to fill (based on my student loan bills)! I've applied for several other positions through this website and have had no luck and I'm pretty sure it is because I am not wording things in the best way for the automated scanner system to pick me as a qualified candidate. But whatever. My fingers are crossed and I'm leaving it at that.
Oh except I don't want to leave it at that! It would be so perfect! I'd be able to work at a place I really enjoyed working at. With people I enjoyed working with! I'd be able to take classes still! After 12 months of unemployment, 6 of which have been spent daily searching for jobs, I'm becoming a bit worried. Like I told SGT T last night, I don't want to be a housewife by default. I'd have to take a job at 7-11 or something equally as unappealing, the entire paycheck of such a job would go to student loan payments. And that, my friends, is no way to live!
November 13, 2008
Preference
Do you guys think I should re-post my old posts that got removed when I fancied up my page? I would have to post them as new posts so they would be out of order, but then I would have them here which is good because, you know, chronicling my life and everything.
Also, I'm thinking about deleting my myspace account. Does anybody know how I could save my myspace blog posts? Thanks in advance!
Also, I'm thinking about deleting my myspace account. Does anybody know how I could save my myspace blog posts? Thanks in advance!
November 12, 2008
Heroine for my soul
Did you know that I can't remember the last time I had real ice cream? I know, my Ice Cream Counterpart will be sorely disappointed. A few weeks ago I had a Haagen Dazs ice cream bar, but since then, nothing. And an actual bowl of milky, creamy, oh so chocolatey frozen goodness? I can't recall and it makes me sad. I've abandoned my love and can't remember our last good moments together. What kind of person am I?
What's even worse is that it has been over a week since I've had any form of chocolate at all. Yes, you read that correctly. A. WEEK. Just typing that makes me want to weep.
I couldn't find a picture that embodies the depth of my feelings for the missing chocolate in my life. Most likely, it wouldn't be appropriate for the terms I "agreed" to when I created this blog. Snapshots of naked skin, melted chocolate, and it gets kind of fuzzy and more inappropriate after that, so we'll move on.
In an effort to aide my body in finding it's pre-grad school self, at the least, I'm trying to cut out (cut back on) some of the worse things I eat. Well, at least to make better decisions instead of just thinking them. Sigh. It is so depressing to not be 17. To be in that body with appreciation, instead of loathing would be wonderful.
I haven't drank any Coke in an age, also. Cutting out my sweet, tooth rotting, nectar hasn't been as difficult as I thought it would be, but that could be because I'm still allowing soda on occasion, just diet, and only rarely. I shudder at the thought of it (it being diet), but cold turkey is no friend of mine.
There was a line in The Starter Wife where Molly is bitching about her divorce and one of her friends comments on her crabbiness and she replies with "Of course I'm cranky, I haven't eaten in 12 years!". Eating healthy meals, healthy proportions, is so unfulfilling. I've probably given that I am grotesquely large, and while I am allowed to think that because, honestly, what woman doesn't think she looks disgusting at times, I'm not. I am, however, more aware of metabolism and age than I ever wished to be.
I'm hesitant to talk about the exercise I've been doing. In analyzing why, I'm not coming up with anything other than I feel kind of insecure about people knowing I'm exercising. I don't want to hear "hey, good job!" or "keep up the good work!". I don't know why that is, but for now, it is what it is.
I'm not writing all of this to brag or sound all healthy and stuff. I actually just wanted somebody to know the pain I am going through. The loss. Desire. Oh, the desire. Inappropriate images in my mind again.
What's even worse is that it has been over a week since I've had any form of chocolate at all. Yes, you read that correctly. A. WEEK. Just typing that makes me want to weep.
I couldn't find a picture that embodies the depth of my feelings for the missing chocolate in my life. Most likely, it wouldn't be appropriate for the terms I "agreed" to when I created this blog. Snapshots of naked skin, melted chocolate, and it gets kind of fuzzy and more inappropriate after that, so we'll move on.
In an effort to aide my body in finding it's pre-grad school self, at the least, I'm trying to cut out (cut back on) some of the worse things I eat. Well, at least to make better decisions instead of just thinking them. Sigh. It is so depressing to not be 17. To be in that body with appreciation, instead of loathing would be wonderful.
I haven't drank any Coke in an age, also. Cutting out my sweet, tooth rotting, nectar hasn't been as difficult as I thought it would be, but that could be because I'm still allowing soda on occasion, just diet, and only rarely. I shudder at the thought of it (it being diet), but cold turkey is no friend of mine.
There was a line in The Starter Wife where Molly is bitching about her divorce and one of her friends comments on her crabbiness and she replies with "Of course I'm cranky, I haven't eaten in 12 years!". Eating healthy meals, healthy proportions, is so unfulfilling. I've probably given that I am grotesquely large, and while I am allowed to think that because, honestly, what woman doesn't think she looks disgusting at times, I'm not. I am, however, more aware of metabolism and age than I ever wished to be.
I'm hesitant to talk about the exercise I've been doing. In analyzing why, I'm not coming up with anything other than I feel kind of insecure about people knowing I'm exercising. I don't want to hear "hey, good job!" or "keep up the good work!". I don't know why that is, but for now, it is what it is.
I'm not writing all of this to brag or sound all healthy and stuff. I actually just wanted somebody to know the pain I am going through. The loss. Desire. Oh, the desire. Inappropriate images in my mind again.
Veteran's Day
On Tuesday, instead of a day off, SGT T had to be at the Airborne and Special Forces Museum for a memorial dedication ceremony.
The unit he is a part of, the 321st Airborne Field Artillery Regiment, had a monument installed at the museum and if they weren't ordered to be there, it would have been an empty house. As it was, lots of people showed up and it was kinda cool for something you are forced to be at, even if I couldn't see or hear anything from being stuck in the back.
On another note, aren't they just so cute?
The unit he is a part of, the 321st Airborne Field Artillery Regiment, had a monument installed at the museum and if they weren't ordered to be there, it would have been an empty house. As it was, lots of people showed up and it was kinda cool for something you are forced to be at, even if I couldn't see or hear anything from being stuck in the back.
On another note, aren't they just so cute?
Something about the fabulous fall weather
Six months ago Tuesday, I walked out of a hotel in England and lit up a cigarette. I haven't done this since:
Of course I'm glad I've quit, for what seems to be, for good. Of course I'm proud of myself. But sometimes, oh god sometimes I want nothing more than to go sit outside in the brisk fall air and wrap my lips around that slim little seductress and, well, and the rest is just so personal and I've never been one to kiss and tell.
Of course I'm glad I've quit, for what seems to be, for good. Of course I'm proud of myself. But sometimes, oh god sometimes I want nothing more than to go sit outside in the brisk fall air and wrap my lips around that slim little seductress and, well, and the rest is just so personal and I've never been one to kiss and tell.
Where I show you my husband's ass and the crazy things he's done
As you know, if you've been by here before, SGT T recently went to jump school for the army. I was able to go down during jump week and watch them do a couple of jumps and I'm telling you, that shit is crazy! After watching the video of the first two weeks, I now understand why the picture below doesn't quite capture how terrible it really was.
Chicago!
While SGT T was at jump school I had the opportunity to meet Mom in Chicago for a few days while she was there for work. Lucky for me, she generously donates her frequent flier miles to my "see the world" cause, otherwise I definitely wouldn't get to see the places I've seen. So we met up at the airport and took the metro into town to the hotel. Oh yeah, also lucky for me, when I meet her where she has work events going on I get to stay with her at the hotel her work pays for which allows for us to stay at some way nicer places
than if we had to pay for it out of pocket.
One of my favorite things about traveling with my mom is that we have similar interests and a shared itsy bitsy attention span at museums and other worldly and cultural activities. The extent of our touristy activities included twenty minutes at Shedd Aquarium, Hard Rock Cafe for burgers (and SGT T's requisite t-shirt), a river and lake tour followed up by defrosting ourselves at Giordano's with some stuffed pizza.
Chicago is a beautiful city and I really enjoyed my time there. I know it's cliche, but I really enjoyed the architecture and history this city offered.
than if we had to pay for it out of pocket.
One of my favorite things about traveling with my mom is that we have similar interests and a shared itsy bitsy attention span at museums and other worldly and cultural activities. The extent of our touristy activities included twenty minutes at Shedd Aquarium, Hard Rock Cafe for burgers (and SGT T's requisite t-shirt), a river and lake tour followed up by defrosting ourselves at Giordano's with some stuffed pizza.
Chicago is a beautiful city and I really enjoyed my time there. I know it's cliche, but I really enjoyed the architecture and history this city offered.
November 11, 2008
Under construction
I'm making some changes, hopefully, and then will be back with all the crap I've been slacking on. Hope you'll come back!
SPS
SPS
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
