Bleck

I promised myself many many years ago I would never post an "I hate my job" or even worse "I hate my staff" posting.  But well, *ghdfgireotraogh* does not even begin to cover the frustration that I feel.  I have been sick for the last week and I return to this attempted mutiny in the works from my most frustrating staff members.  I do not have the patience for it. I do not have the patience for drama period.  But alas here I am with drama and a case of the blahhs already as the waves of work and school starts to roll in faster.  Fun times.

Slowly...

I am slowly working my way through the novel I'm supposed to have finished for Wednesday, at this rate it isn't going to happen, I am also slowly trying to figure out how if at all to have semi-consistent contact with AB and not be mad at him, or how about slowly learning to hear and swallow again, and there is also that paper I really should get done sooner rather than later.

But you know what I find myself thinking about in the down times, other than diasporic theories or how long I can wait before running again?  Mr. Bombastic (referenced here and here). What? Who? WHY?! Oh Lord WHY?! Is what I assume your response would be.  To be honest I never thought that I would have given him a second thought in class, never mind after it was over, but I stumbled upon him in a group event on campus.  This said group event changed how I saw him and now I'm confused.  Now I know he's likely the age of a marginally aged/matured fetus, hell everyone on campus is compared to me.  It is his self involved, for lack of an alternative term, bombastic nature that appeals to me.  Not in a you'd be a fabulous person to date because you aren't completely into yourself and you are kind, open and compassionate kind of person.  No purely because I would love to know how self involved he is, the plague of man-children infecting this globe has me seriously curious.  The problem is I have labeled  him as Mr. Bombastic in my head and I actually have no idea what his name is. Yes I might have stared at the back of his head for 13 weeks, and the front of his face for those 13 weeks while waiting for the bus, but I don't know who he is... thus no FB stalking... *sigh* I really wanted to  devote time to FB stalking Mr. Bombastic...

Regardless, I should get back to Pretty in Pink and clear my mind of everything I should be working on.

Sick again...

For the love of pink Louboutin's I am sick again.  There are small pluses - it has taken me a week of fighting before I resigned myself to antibiotics.  But on that note I'm going to be in Gravol induced coma because I know what these antibiotics do to me.

Hi All

So it seems in recent weeks that I've picked up a few lovely new folks.  So to those following or those lurking in the Interweb's shadows. The run down here is quite simple:

1. Everyone gets a nickname - there was a time in my life where I had my name and everything out in the open along with the names of Ms. J and well anyone who would grace these posts.  Well then CEF and a few other crazies caused me to shut down my old blog.  I actually stopped blogging for about 6 months which is a lifetime for me.  Then my shrink thought it was time for me to start dating, so here we are.

2.  What's up with the names?  Well L or HHMNERP (Hot Hot Married Native Ex Roomie Princess) as she prefers to be called started up the naming game when it came to naming boys we would see around town but didn't know their names - the very first one - Boy I Know My Mother Would Hate... I still see him around town.  The names protect everyone and makes everything else a little more kosher around these parts.

3. Check the right column for the run down on the names.

4. Who am I?  Well you can think of me as whoever you want - sorry no details, I've learned the less you really know the more protection I have - goodness it's like I am hiding from someone...

5. Comment - let me know what you think - I am always open for a swift kick or more preferably a laugh.  The large majority of these posts are written out of sheer humorous frustration.  I'm seriously not cranky and bitchy all the time, well unless you're one of my employees... just kidding.

6. Last but not least all my followers have pretty fabulous blogs, check them out.

White Horses

I am going to keep playing this song on permanent repeat for the next two weeks, or longer if I need to.  AB texted me.  Goodness *sigh* a year after telling me he didn't want a relationship and now this, texting to check if any white horses have come into my life.  You know there is a lot of NLLL language I want to scream at him.  But I think we all know that amidst that frustration and heartbreak in the process of healing, is that like of hard to shake unconditional love.  The kind that boys like AB know how to milk for all its worth (there are a lot of girls who know how to do that say).  But regardless, I am going to be feeding AB next Thursday, apparently his jobless self is in some serious money problems and he's going hungry and has a shitty roommate.  To which I feel like saying dear, you totally got yourself in this mess and your damn pride is going to keep you there - referencing the roommate and job fiasco.  As to me, I know better than Taylor, I've put the months in and stared that the unused pregnancy test in my closet (why, what? and all that - bought two when there was that whole scare last year), I know that he's not my future, regardless of what he might want.  But I don't need to ramble on, Taylor is able to say it better.

 

Hmmm

Well I am no sicker, but no healthier.  My acupuncturist insists I'm paranoid, to which I feel like saying lots of things which would support her statement.  But regardless I'm off to bed, sleep and more sleep seems to be the only option.  But when I am awake I'm listening to this lovely lady whose MTV Music award performance caught my full attention.  Wow to the song and running in those heels...

Damn Immune System

I have almost completed my second week of ramping up for marathon training, and what happens, well first I have my timely visitor and then my left lymph node decided to start moaning this after.  WTF.  I am not getting sick already.  Seriously if I do, I am going to be demanding someone do something.  No one be them 20 or 80 (I'm neither) should be so chronically feeble.  Anyways, it doesn't help that AB posted some pictures on FB, one was a candid of me looking pissed off, which likely was what I looked like most of that frustrating evening...

Gah, is more the feeling.  Like yes I want to remember getting all done up, including some fabulous hair, like seriously fabulous hair, never mind everything else only to be socially shunned by AB for the long train ride out to the end of the line.  The party itself was a bust with AB getting drunk on gin, and then I suffered (sober) the long ride home with him trying to figure his drunk ass self out, he was handsy one moment and cold the next. And then I almost was stuck cabbing it home because there was only one bus out of town.  And since then it's been the cold shoulder.  Which I take as  I (AB) totally know I shouldn't have tried to feel you up but then again it's what happens when I consume gin and stand to close to you (me).  Lord do I know.  Note to me - stay clear of AB and maybe just add another few miles if you hear he's cracked the Bombay.

So maybe I should be thankful for the pissed off candid shot, a daily reminder to him of my passive aggressive hatred for all his man child ways and maybe just his behaviour in general. 

To which I say self, get thee to bed, focus on the pain in your throat and not the one in your side.

This post is brought to you by the letters D, I and T

D is for done, as in my to-do list that a month ago seemed large enough to be daunting to this Type A, To Do list junkie is almost complete.  Yes all I have left to complete is the purchase of a memory stick for year end and dropping off my winter coats at the dry cleaner. Yes this to do list completion means my application for graduate school is done.  Yep, done, done, done

I is for itchy, itchy, itchy.  I know my PU insists that my "intolerances" are all in my head. Some days I would like him to be in my body when I choose stupidly and have dairy or whatever.  I'm itchy, puffy and overall not happy, so why I had that piece of cake I have no idea.  Seriously no idea.

T is for trolls and technology.  The trolls of the interwebs annoy me, just as I am sure the bridge trolls would have daily annoyed me in a previous life, you can be reborn in another century/universe but you can never escape them it seems.  I am getting to the point where I am trying to consistently stop feeding them because the only thing that silences a troll is starvation, despite their taunting.... blerg

And as for technology well I have a craptastic Blackberry from Rogers and after weeks of tweeting, emailed and such like they were suppose to call me at work today to discuss my phone because discussing anything about my Blackberry on my Blackberry is not going to happen, because as I said before it doesn't work... did I mention I hate Rogers and Blackberry.  This is my 4th and it still doesn't work, which prevents me from working at home.  I never thought I would say it but I'm SO tempted to get a land line.

Sigh

So I did it, finally signed up for a dating site, not Match like I had considered before. It was the one that I met MW and Farmer Boy on actually. And while I have absolutely no expectations, being at the recent cultural event has made me feel like I needed to go back to this site and give it one more try of looking within my community. That and well we all need the drama around these parts now don't we?

I promise I will do my reading...

considering my laundry is on its way, the errands are done, I went for a short run and the house is tidy and all I have left to do is update my gluten free blog... this day has been productive.  This song came on the TV as I was getting finished in the kitchen - the topic of love and loneliness seems to be floating around the interwebs today, and I know that this song may not be uplifting per say but I still think it's pretty great, and well the harmonies are pretty fabulous too.

I love this song too

First Week Back

Blerg

Work and school and year end do not mix, just like beer and hard alcohol do not mix, apparently.  I am tired.  I have about 100 pages of reading to do for Wednesday and a paper to start researching.  I started yoga again after almost 18 months away from class, I am sore - like can't blow dry my hair sore. And on top of all that my boss left for three weeks in Australia and handed me year end to do by myself sans accountant (sweet!).  So while I should have been having a glass of wine and trying to save the world with Ms. J last night to recover, I was an hour out of town with my dad, aunt and grandparents at cultural relief sale.  I love the food, the smells of a lot of the glutenful food I can no longer eat and the relatives, the millions, okay so that's an exaggeration but it felt like I was related to about 50 people I had no recollection of meeting, though they remembered me.

Regardless, that's not what you want to know about anyways, so MW was there.  The last time I had seen MW in person was 2006 when we had our failed date.  In recent times I have been subject to a night of sexting, which I will say is totally a gag worthy experience - not a turn on boys, unless and it's a strong unless there is actually some history between the people.  After our failed date I scrubbed him clean out of any category that would permit sexting.  Eww, again, did I say eww yet.  Well I pushed past that after shutting him down quite clearly that I am not that kind of girl.  You know the kind that intentionally goes for the friends with benefits, and for the record we really aren't even friends.   So anyways we BBM occasionally, almost entirely during hockey games... So running into him accidentally made me want to turn and run.  No one wants that kind of awkward moment in front of the grandparents who are wondering why you are their only single female grandchild, or for that matter the only single one of marrying age, since the other two don't count. 

But that wasn't even the worst part, it was an evening of attractive men, all married and toting around kidlets.  Ms. J knows my frustration, I am trying to find someone who is of the same cultural background but they are rare in the city and even rarer to be single over 25, let alone over 30.  So depressing.

I have arrived at the point where I do not want to date anymore, its too damn complicated, I need an arranged marriage.

Writing

First of all I should be writing my personal statement for my application - that act has been an epic fail and should be the mission of my weekend, though somehow I think it will not be.  I have though slowly chipped away at my to do list - only have crying on the phone with my cellular phone company to do on Wednesday (long long story made short my craptastic Blackberry Pearl phone portion has never worked despite being replaced 4 times yep, 4 times)....

Ms. J was over for dinner tonight, as we do every Friday night, eat and try to plot methods of saving the world from disease. Seriously.  Actually it's a game - Outbreak, but yes that is what me do.  Well today we ended up talking about an older topic, my writing and fabulous life I've had to this point.  Why?  Well LMDTB has been in need of advice about her 20's.  Here is the deal I don't have advice but I do have the hindsight of age and it's this - don't follow my life.  Deep and insightful, no?  Actually it is - there is more to it of course.  Like don't fall in love with a BI because that while in theory is a good idea - I mean he is not a bad choice, it's a "it's not going to work choice," which I guess is a bad choice in some respect.  But there are bigger lessons like stay away from crazy boys and men who should know that dating someone 15 years younger is a desperate attempt to reclaim their youth and so on and so forth...  In the end though isn't life about making those mistakes.  About the personal experience and knowing that you know yourself and what you really want?

A part of me wants to send her forth and say go make every conceivable heart breaking mistake you can make because it will teach you what you want.  But in the same respect it's a horrible thing to encourage in any format given I know those night and days even of crying, pain and all that mess.

Any advice you would pass on to your younger self? 

Interesting...

It seems before I have even had a chance to go towards the altar, there are a heck of a lot of my friends who are moving away from it.  Running, leaping, surging head long towards divorce court. Many I really did not think would.  I realize 50% or more of us will chose that option.   I also know that I am not in any position to judge because if for some bizarre reason I conned my better self down the isle to marry CEF, the big D and I do not mean Dallas or Delta or Dubai would have been our destiny.  I just find it interesting, perplexing and well sad.  I guess this only means now I will be likely getting hitched at about the same time the wave of second marriages happens.  And that my friends is even harder to get my brain around.

This erks me...

AB has on more than one occasion recently texted me in response to a practical text that he's thinking about me.  Dude, I wanted to know if you wanted the reject jar of marmalade in the staff room, not how you felt about me.  The time before that it was in regards to Avatar: The Last Airbender's non-suckingness - though to be fair that is only because I totally heart the show.  Again I get an I've been thinking about you.  About what pray-tell?  About my awesomeness, about my key lime pie you are never going to get again, about what? About how you broke my heart?  About how I or say any woman who isn't teeming with disease is better than the company you've been keeping this summer?

But maybe you should actually consider thinking about - growing up, about the bridges you have burned and those you should, about how your ex who you are still hung up on cheats on every man she has ever been with... maybe in your old age of 31 going on 32 in mere months you should consider adulthood and not me. 

Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/55396233@N00/3953332914/sizes/l/in/photostream/