Awhile back I conducted a poll regarding the typical cost of my readers’ shampoo and conditioner. I did this for a reason, of course. Mainly I’ve finally reached my wits end. Years ago now, when I was still living in Texas and my hair magically turned curly on me I panicked because I had no idea how to handle and maintain the new hair. I was an incredibly low maintenance chick when my hair was straight. Pantene shampoo and conditioner - every day – brush – air dry. That was it; that was my hair routine. I had never had any use with gel, mousse, hairspray… I didn’t own a curling iron, a hair dryer, or curlers, because no matter what I did to my hair it was going to look exactly the same. It was going to be long and straight.

Then it went curly and all hell broke lose. Pantene started destroying my hair, and I had to learn to maneuver between the approximately 785 various products specifically designed to make my curls looked marvelous. And you know what? Nothing worked. I end up moving to a “salon” shampoo and conditioner (Biolage) and I discovered the trick to taming my curls. A spray bottle… filled with water. Tap water… from my sink. And all the sudden I was back to a low maintenance routine. Shampoo – condition – brush – scrunch – and just as my hair finished air drying a light mist of water to tame out the frizzies.

But honestly? I didn’t know what frizzies really were… until I moved here. To place that keeps 100% humidity year round. To a place where you need to learn how to drink your air.

Then the real problems began and I wound up back in that hair care aisle. Oddly enough I’ve looked thru all the comments left regarding the poll, and you know what? I’ve tried each and every one of the products noted. It was horrible. Something would work fine for a few weeks then I would start waking up with this afro halo thing working. Almost a year ago, I found a guy that I really enjoyed how he worked with my hair he sympathized with all my problems and really went above and beyond the call to help me find a solution that didn’t involve me enlisting in Moose’s outlook on hair care. We had just found my perfect solution when the new meds kicked in and the synthetic hormones started to course and all of the sudden we were back at square one.

And all this time he had been after me to try Bumble and Bumble products… but at 30-something dollars per 8 oz. bottle, I just couldn’t justify it until all other options had been exhausted.

I reached that point about a month ago.

And caved and purchased B&B Curls line for fine hair (shampoo, conditioner, curl crème at $24 per bottle on sale.) I knew it was stupid money to spend on hair products but I helped in justifying that I had a bit saved in the bank because unlike all my other female friends I have never dyed my hair. And since my Mother spends $60 a month getting her hair dyed … this kinda just evens the karma out.

Life was great… for a week. Then my hair started falling out. Not like a little shedding (cause I always shed) no I’m talking handfuls. Then? Anywhere the conditioner touched my body? I broke out. Bad.

Now I was incredibly lucky in high school. I remember when I got my first pimple. I was a freshman in college… the day before homecoming. By the night of the dance? Gone. To say I was blessed with great skin (sans the stupid freckles) would be an understatement. So yeah I freaked the holy hell out. I called everyone I knew that I thought could answer my questions. Then I posted every question I could think of to every forum and list I’m active in that I felt was applicable.

The support I got was overwhelming. But it filtered into 2 distinct categories of thought -

1 – Throw away all hair products immediately and move to a natural and organic line sans harsh chemicals.

2 – Get thee to Cynthia immediately.

Natural hair products were easy. A trip to my organic market offered me a wealth of goodies, and now 2 weeks in my hair is showing drastic improvement. The best discovery was working with a holistic esthetician on learning the right essentials oils to apply to my hair and scalp. She helped me create a customized oil for nightly scalp massages that will help reduce my shedding and encourage my new growth to come in thicker and stronger than before. Then showed me the proper oil for my hair type so I could do a hot oil treatment a few times a week to the full length to help condition and thicken. 2 weeks in and the results are nothing short of amazing. Everyone stops and asks what in the hell I did to my hair, for the first time in a very long time I’m happy with my hair. It takes a lot more work than I would like, but you find a routine that is producing results and you make it work.

Now getting in to see Cynthia? Was a little more difficult. You see Cynthia is considered to be one of the top 10 stylists in the country for curly hair. Women fly in from all over for her to work her magic. Her reviews online are flawless and have been so for years (seriously I scanned all the back to 2004 and didn’t find anyone that thought she was not worth the time/effort/money). And as luck would have it her shop is 90 minutes from my house. So I caved. I called for an appointment and only slightly winced when informed of the cost. Taking the first available appointment she had available – I ended up with a Thursday at 3:00 p.m. appt… 3 weeks out. Which now means that today, I get to go see Cynthia the supposed miracle worker. And for the first time in my life I’m ready to sit down in a chair and let a stylist do whatever the hell she wants to do with my hair.

And I hope that isn’t a mistake.

So if you have any spare karma saved up in the bank that you would like to donate to a good cause send it out around 3, please? And if not? Maybe a wig will do.

Catching up.

In this entry, you get to read all about my traveling adventures over the past month. Starting with a short (read: waste of my time) trip to Chicago for work. Then my adventures teaching at an Inter-Kingdom Squires’ Retreat. And then finally all about my experiences as Ms. Expert Witness.

My trip to Chicago (“OH! This is the reason I don’t like my job!”)

Some of you will recall back when I worked in Texas. Some of you will also be able to recall that the majority of my job tasks were based on tasks no one else wanted to do. And that this led to a reputation of being quite the holy terror of the company. There was panic when I walked into an office unannounced. A manager once even climbed out his window to avoid me. You might even be able to remember that year when for my birthday my CEO gave me business cards identical to my standard ones except instead of my title they read “The Henchman”

One day (now a few weeks ago) all of this came back to haunt me. It was Thursday morning and I got an email from my former CEO. The email was regarding a conference to take place that afternoon and it had been sent to about 12 people. I noticed however that I was the only person outside that territory invited… in fact on closer inspection this call was centered around senior management for Central States North – specifically Chicago. I replied because surely there must be some mistake. Why in the world would I need to be present for this call? The reply I got back was adamant that I was expected… with no explanation.

My first thought? Fuck! They want to transfer me to Chicago.

Time for the call rolls around, I phone in, and everyone is saying their hellos and whatnot when I get another email. This one is from our corporate air fleet informing me that the jet was flying in that night from Texas so we could leave the following morning at 5 a.m. for Chicago, And would I like to request any special snacks or beverages for the trip?

Jet?
Leave?
5 a.m.?
Chicago?
…
What the fuck is going on?

(If you recall my days in Texas, you can also recall my great dislike for the tiny tin can my company refers to as a private jet. And trust me when I say that having access to a private jet isn’t always as glamorous as the movies and the billionaires make it seem. I mean for the plane to fly at full capacity, which is always optimal, someone is actually expected to sit on the toilet. Note I didn’t say “in the bathroom” because the toilet actually sits under one of the seats in the main cabin, seriously.)

30 minutes into the call my purpose is finally revealed…. And I my temper comes to a full boil while I wait for the call to end so I can call my former CEO and lose my shit properly. Cause see by the end of the call it was 6:30 p.m. and I had to call my assistant tell him to pull out his black suit and meet me at the airport at 4:30 a.m. the next morning. Then I had to run to Macy’s to buy me a black suit.

Then my assistant and I both ended up pulling an all nighter at the office to get some reports out that HAD to go out Friday… but we weren’t going to be around to finish them on schedule.

We arrived at the airport at 4:15 a.m. to fly to Chicago… for a 4 hour stay.

So I could fire someone.

That doesn’t even work for me.
That I have never even met.

Thousands of dollars wasted (and not to mention my time) because no one in that entire territory had the balls to fire one lousy guy. I was pissed. I was especially pissed because I was asked to do something that is normally considered incredibly taboo (All senior management is strongly encouraged to not interfere in any way with the management of territories outside their own) as a personal favor and “for old times sake”.

At least our driver was able to locate this great vegan restaurant for us to lunch at on the way back to the airport.

Next!

My venturing out to a weekend Squires’ Retreat (“OH! This is why I love the SCA!”)

Some Knights got together and decided to do an unofficial Inter-Kingdom Squires’ Retreat. A total of 6 Knights and about 35 squires… and me. (okay and the 2 wives that did all the cooking for the weekend).

My name came up after a few guys remembered some classes I taught at a Known World Rattan Symposium a few years back, and I was asked if I would be willing to come out of retirement (did you know I retired? I didn’t know I had retired… maybe a bit of hiatus-ing but not a real retirement.) to teach the squires some manners. Specifically courtesies of the field – requesting a favor, honoring your consort, opponent, opponent’s consort, etc., and field challenges. All vaguely geared towards Crown List, because apparently all Kingdoms seem to be pushing their fighters who have never entered The List before to give it a shot.

I was game and agreed, because honestly? If I ever see a squire sitting on a stool list side the morning of Crown List wearing a sign around his neck stating “Will fight in Crown for food and beer.” again my heart will probably stop and I’m certain there will be tears.

I was a little apprehensive going because I knew so few of the guys attending – so unlike the last squires’ retreat I taught at where I knew every single squire and most I considered family. That was like a family reunion. This? Was a bit intimidating. And after the drama that happened when I worked with some of the squires out here when I first arrived I wasn’t actually certain how I was going to be received.

When I got there late Friday night I noticed something interesting. Most of the squires were well on their way to getting trashed… and not one Knight was drinking. I could literally count the smart squires (the ones following the examples of their Knight) on 1 hand.

When I headed to my room to get some sleep one of the Knights I was sharing a room with informed me of some of the morning plans. Poor squires were going to feel some pain in the morning. Whistles started going off a 6a.m.

By 6:10 the squires who had been under the impression that all that talk about being productive this weekend was really a lie they were telling their wives back home were starting to realize just how wrong they were. And by 6:15 all squires were out of bed… and running laps. By 6:30 the ones who had imbibed a bit too much the night before were losing everything they had behind a bush.

Breakfast at 7:30 wasn’t a cheerful affair.

I had a blast however. I spent all morning sitting on a porch with my feet propped up reading my book and watching the boys drill. There was a short break for lunch and my class was pushed back so the guys could get as much time in fighting before the rains came.

By 3:00 it was raining so hard that even the guys still fighting under the covered pavilion had to stop because the water was lapping over their feet. The guys headed off to shower (I prefer working with clean squires) by the time they had returned to the main hall we had lost power. So I taught my class in gloomy rainy sunlight, but it went really well.

I had planned to head home after dinner, but some of the guys ran into town before dinner for some supplies and when they got back a 6-pack of chic beer was dumped in my lap and I was informed that I may as well start drinking because the rain was too bad for me to drive anywhere.

There was dinner and there was lots of bullshitting (all by lantern light). And I realized all squires in all Kingdoms have the same stories as long as you let the enemy be interchangeable.

For just about everyone it was a fairly early night, the boys were all dead tired and the rain was making everyone really sleepy. I got a few hard hours of sleep in before the electricity came back on blinding the entire room in light… and was just getting back to sleep when a corner of the roof gave way and our room started to flood. I slept on and off for the rest of the night as the water that was coming in from the leaking corner had to flow under my bed to reach the drain.

I woke up early and drove home as quick as I could in the pounding rain so I could crawl my happy ass back into bed for the rest of the day/night. But really all in all it was a really good weekend. I actually had fun and enjoyed myself at an SCA activity. I can’t tell you how long it has been since that has happened. I had enough fun that I’m actually am willing to give my local barony another chance to not suck.

So we shall see. But until then I think Gleann Abhann needs a Squires’ retreat.

Next!

Ms. Expert Witness.

This is where I had planned on telling you all about my new exciting double life as an expert witness for a certain federal authority. That was until I received orders today that I wasn’t allowed to discuss the cases I’m working on with anyone outside of my immediate staff and legal representation. Just know that it is still shiny and new and much more glamorous than having use of the company’s jet.

Before I move on to that laundry list of things I need to blog about, I’ve decided to jump ahead and quickly cover this weekend. Well not so much cover it as send out a few thank you notes. You see this weekend had the all the makings of drama filled angsty disaster and I wasn’t exactly being the most tolerant flower in the garden. I was mad. I was mad, confused, and angry. I wanted to throw things. I wanted to kick shins. It wasn’t very pretty. But as luck would have it, I’m surrounded by some great men in my life. Men that balled up, took the brunt of my attack (even though it was never meant to be directed at them), and showed me that they loved me in their own little individual ways. By the end of weekend I wasn’t mad anymore – I was resolved. And I no longer believed that all little boys should be lying dead in ditches, which was a huge improvement over Tuesday night.

Dear Mike,

I’m sorry. You got the worst of it, didn’t you? But you took it and you understood and you offered… well you offered just about everything, didn’t you? From pedicures to a bottle of bourbon even going so far to offer to hire a hit man. You took me out and showed me a good time and more than made up for what you knew I was missing out on. By the time I left on Friday morning, I was at least ready to be seen in public without that burning desire to drive the heel of my shoe into someone’s eye.

Not to mention you are now officially classified as one of Sabine’s True Friends. (For the general audience – this is a classification that you can only be awarded after you have fulfilled the duty of taking Sabine to the ER, and Mike has been waiting for years now to have a chance.)

Thanks, hun
Sabine

______

Dear Dirk,

I’m going to miss you when you are gone. Texas just won’t be the same without you. Thanks for taking time out of your busy packing schedule and driving out to see Sarah and I. But even more than that thanks for bring the big protective bear I can always count on. Just remember to set aside an emergency air fund, because you are my #12 and one day the guys aren’t going to be able to talk me out of making you make good on that promise.

Love.You.Mean.It.
Sabine, your #2… (wait a minute – now that you are moving to Canada, does that mean I’m getting demoted to #3?)

______

Dear Gavin,

I would say that now more than ever my point has been proven. I get pissy, you show up, we whisper and giggle in the dark while pissing off all of our friends, and suddenly the world doesn’t suck so much. I’ve decided it is your SuperChicken power (I can’t believe you bought the hat, btw – such a sheep.). I love you… even if you did the hog the bed… steal my pillow… and snore in my ear. Thanks for being you and I can’t wait for August.

Love,
Sabine

______

Dear Brandr,

Well don’t you have a way at making a girl feel loved? You kept me company Saturday Night after my Ansteorran friends left for home. You flirted and you flattered, and you made me feel all girly inside. I made you my scapegoat and you just laughed and went along with it. Then you taught me the hand signal for “huge squid”, and I don’t know how I have managed to live my life up to this point without that knowledge.

You rock, my friend.
Sabine

And at last but not least –

Dear Heebie,

While hot heads were abounding this weekend you stayed all calm and cool. You manned up and spoke to me honestly about some troubles and we worked thru it. You were there every time I needed something during the vigil. You banished the alien hiding under my shoulder blade. You played a nice rousing game “Brandr did it!” (officially the “it” game of summer) with me and you kept yourself firmly planted between me and the oogey drunk guy. All that combined makes you a fairly rockin’ guy.

But then you found the spot… and that makes you my new favorite.

Love you looooonglong time,
Sabine

So there you have it – my recap. Up next? How I landed my ass in Chicago on a Friday morning.

Today?

I went to a nudist colony. A “strictly full nudity” (as in not “clothing optional”) colony.

I did this for work and not by any means for myself. Did you know that people ACTUALLY LIVE inside these places? Naïve me always thought they were resort type places or possibly like a country club. I never knew they were places that people actually purchased real estate… for their primary residence. I didn’t realize there were people in this world willing to drop $500k on a house in a subdivision inside a nudist colony.

Before this project came up at work, I really knew next to nothing about nudist colonies… and I was kinda okay with that. I was incredibly cool with the idea that there were people in this world who wanted to spend their vacations naked (not my bag but everyone is allowed their own special brand of kink). Because that is all I thought this idea consisted of. Now? Now I know more than I ever wanted to know. And frankly? I’m disgusted.

Why? Because today while I was being driven around by a security guard on a golf cart he took me to the clubhouse area which contained all your usual amenities you would expect to see around a subdivision’s clubhouse. A pool, a café, tennis courts, shuffleboard, a driving range, … and a playground.

This place is “family friendly”… they allow families – families with small children. And in what universe do the phrases “family friendly” and “strictly full nudity” ever have the right to be combined?

There have been very few times in my life where I have felt the need to come home and scrub my skin raw… when a normal shower still leaves me feeling unclean. Today was one of those days.

_{(it helps if you read this out loud to yourself using the strongest Texas twang you can muster… it really does lend the proper character and mood of the words)}

Well another Gulf Wars come and gone. And if you are just now showing up to catch Sabine’s Highlight Reel, then you have missed out and I’m not even certain that I could catch you up.

It wasn’t a great War. It wasn’t a shitty War, although I’ve been informed that I have more than enough right to refer to it as such. Luckily entirely too many people love me entirely too much. And I’m not sure why cause I sure as hell don’t deserve it.

But I think I’m going to end up chalking this War up as an odd one. Maybe in few weeks when things settle and my laundry is finally all washed; maybe then I can move it to the “good” column… but for now? We shall stick with odd.

Every year, I’ve offered a recap. This year it is just too much to take in. There were a lot of highs and a lot of lows… a lot of angry and mean but also a lot of happy and fun. Some disappointments but some surprises. Honestly looking back everything balanced itself out fairly damn well and really turned out for the best all the way around. (Don’t you hate it when it does that?)

But Hell, it took Liam 30 minutes with a flowchart and 5 PowerPoint slides just to comprehend 9 hours of my life at War. So starting with Friday morning and the text message that went something like “Just now getting on the road (2 hours late)… had to clean the blood off the floor… and pick the glass shards out of my foot… and cry… I cried a lot.” would just be kinda ludicrous.

So I’m taking the wussy way out this year. All of you know the drill, you pick the people, you give a comment, it’s all anonymous, and designed to make everyone paranoid. But? Just to let some of you off the hook there are only 25 people on this list and when you take into account the 3600+ people onsite you can extrapolate that I had to leave one or 2 of you out. Hell, I can think of more than handful right off the top of my head that should be on here but aren’t.

So we shall now commence with the giving of Sabine’s War Recap (You are still using that Texas accent, right?) –

(Read on …)

Somehow when I updated this post last time it went to private, so a few people have missed this.  Terribly sorry. Please see below.

Dear Internet,

Sometimes I feel as if this is nothing but a group of kindergartners. And true to form when one child fucks up they inevitably end up ruining it for the whole class. Effective immediately, if you want to read more than the most basic of basic content you are going to have to register and get an ID. I’m sorry, this is the last thing in the world I want to do, but for those of you who have been around since the beginning you know precisely what happened last time I let this get out of control and I personally have no desire to revisit that again.

So to the person with the complete lack of common decency and respect: you don’t know me, you are not my friend, and you have absolutely no right to be sitting on your ass speculating to others about what my content really means… so please kindly fuck off.

That being said I have made it as easy as I possibly can to register for the site. All you need to provide is your chosen ID and your email address, after submitting you will have a password emailed to you. You can then login and change that password to whatever you want it to be. After I get my notification that I have a new user then I can set your user level so you can view content. For those of you who have registered in the past, and might need help remembering what the ID or password is, just drop me an email.

Again I apologize for having to do this, I don’t want to lose any of my readers over this but I’ve been thru this once before and it ultimately had me shutting down the site and moving here to get away from the vultures. I don’t want to have to run from them again, so I must set up some sort of defense.

Thanks for your support and please bear with me.

Sabine

Update: A few people have asked for the specifics on what happened to cause this, and while the lesser part of me wants to point fingers I’m trying out the higher road for once. Besides the guilty parties know full well who they are and what they did, and that is enough for me for now.

Oh, and you can find the “Register” link at the bottom of the left column under the “Meta” header.

I never, not once, wanted to be a lawyer. Ever. The idea has never appealed to me. So will someone please explain to me how I managed to end up in a field that required me to sit thru 30 hours of real estate law every year?

30 hours of the most boring shit you can ever comphrend.

That is where I’ve been for the past 2 days. 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. And I still have tomorrow to survive.

I.Want.To.Slit.My.Wrists.

Someone save me…

The quote is -

Darling, a true lady takes off her dignity with her clothes and does her whorish best. At other times you can be as modest and dignified as your persona requires.
– Lazarus Long (Robert A. Heinlein)

I’ve never been considered a prude. Behind closed doors I don’t give a damn what you do. I don’t care if you are cheating on your husband with his best friend. I don’t care if you have a shoe or a rope fetish. Hell I don’t even care if takes a monkey, 8 guys, and a clown nose to get you off as long as you have the courtesy to not do it in front of my face. And in return, I promise that you will never have to witness my own special brand of kink.

I’ve always considered that to be a common standard, but apparently I’m mistaken. Sex, or acts that are sexual in nature, is no longer limited to locations where everyone is a consenting adult. I’m constantly bombarded by women trying to prove their sexuality in more and more increasingly pubic environments. And I don’t understand. Is it a lack of caring about what people think? Or are you trying to shock people? Is it peer pressure?

Am I the only one left that believes that things that are sexual in nature are best left for a private affair? I understand that the term private can be a very encompassing term. I understand that there are public places in which sexual acts are not considered taboo – strip clubs for instance, everyone here knows exactly what to expect when one steps into a strip club. All it takes is a glance at a club’s flyer. There will be women in varying stages of undress, which is the definition of strip clubs.

However that is not the definition of an event. And no where in an event announcement is the warning that I will witness nudity. But that hasn’t stopped me from witnessing more and more women who believe that after a certain hour it is okay to go topless at event. When I see it, I leave. I have to, some of these girls are good friends of mine and I love them dearly… and I don’t want to lose the respect I have for them. But I see that action as a loss of self-respect because in my head you are placing a lesser value on your body by allowing yourself to be used as someone else’s entertainment.

And if nudity is okay at events now… then where does it stop?

I have discussed my opinions extensively with some of the members of Marshin Fayne regarding the Clan’s need to “push the envelope” when it comes to their parties and that the only aspect of “pushing the envelope” that they see as viable is one of a public sexual nature. It is not what I come to events for; in fact I attend events for quite the opposite reason. Events for me are a place where I can go to get away from the darker ideals of the world. I’m there for the social interactions involving courtesy, chivalry, and honor. Not to witness a woman being tied to a whipping post for a “Whipping Master” to abuse her.

Maybe I do have a prudish nature.

But while I will have to agree with Sarah that the word choice in the quote isn’t the best… frankly, it’s Heinlein, and can you really expect greatness from the man in regards to women? The idea behind the quote has a great deal of merit. The activities you participate in behind closed doors shouldn’t play into your daily life. Bringing your sex life into the workplace is never a great idea. And the same goes for other aspects of your life. People will respect you more, if you leave a bit of mystery. And the person who you share that private self with will feel even more special knowing that they see a part of you that others are denied.

And as a complete aside, am I really the only person who has absolutely no problem with the word “whore”? It is nothing more than a label… and labels only have power if you allow them to. The emotions behind a label can be negative, depending on who is speaking it but is the word itself really deserving of such hate?

—-

All of that being said this was not the post I set out to write. Not even close really. I had a much more personal… and somewhat more light hearted approach planned for this. When I finally sat down to write, this was what came out. Maybe once I have a bit more time I can sit down and write the post I wanted.

Ladies? Obviously last time I wasn’t clear enough. So let me reiterate -

Boys? Are not toys. They are human beings with souls, and hearts, and brains that most of the time are capable of full functionality. They aren’t puppets that can be manipulated. They are not bean bags that can be tossed around. And they sure as hell aren’t snow globes that can be thrown against a wall and shattered into a million pieces.

Cause broken snow globes? Break my fucking heart, here peoples… which does nothing for my tough girl exterior. And you know how I am about having to prove myself. So don’t make me show up to kick your fucking ass just so everyone can see that damn exterior.

Treat them with some respect, please? Cause sex just isn’t nearly as entertaining without them and I get awfully pissy when I’m not entertained. It’s bad enough that I have had to teach every man I know how to fold a set of fucking sheets. I shouldn’t have to waste valuable time undoing all your mistakes. That’s time better spent having sex.

Besides there is still a few of us out here looking for a good one and we would prefer to have one without too many of your dents and scars.

kk? Thanks.

These?

SUCK.ASS.

’nuff said.

I’ll be dead.

This weekend I encountered 2 very different types of boys. The first, after a very unexpected phone call, had me sleeping like a baby for a good portion of the night. But the second? The second had me up all night pawing thru closets and pacing the floors.

If I’m lucky I might get 2 or 3 hours of sleep on an average night and woe to the boy who takes That away from me. It makes me grumpy almost as grumpy as the fact that all of my brilliant moments come at 3 a.m. This boy in question?

James.

Yesterday in a volley of phone calls this evil plan of James’ was born. An evil plan, which I love. An evil plan, which involves me dressing up. An evil plan, which enables me to play with accessories. An evil plan, that after trying on just about everything I own it was decided that I’m going to have to start from scratch.

Now talking to Sarah, we worked out a plan where I was at least starting with a base garment that I already owned. It wasn’t perfect but it would work and I wouldn’t have to stress over having to start from the beginning…

Until 3 a.m. this morning.

When I realized that I had been an idiot. When I realized that the entire night the perfect fabric for this was already in a box prepped and ready to go to Amalia and with a bit of tweaking would be perfect. Now I just have to track down my seamstress and beg for that dress to be done a month earlier.

And then find accessories.

And probably end up having to make accessories.

This hurts, James. It’s a good pain but it hurts. That is until I wind up burning my fingers on a glue gun, then? Well then I only have 2 words of advice for you, James.

Shin Guards.

Cause it will be all your fault.

(Read on …)

Ok obviously some of you are under some mistaken impressions here.

I? Am not a nice person. Really, I’m not unless it suits me to be so.

I would corrupt your morals, sell your soul, and eat your kittens if I thought for one second it would get me my coffee a minute earlier in the morning. Don’t try and delude yourself.

I will cheat at cards.
When it is just more fun to do so, I will lie.
If you do something stupid, you will become my newest punchline.
And yes, I really am just that mean. It’s all part of the charm.

And in other news? I’m still not fucking pregnant. Damn Asshats

My radio station just played Tesla. I love Tesla. I’m not sure why, especially since as a rule I hate all music if it’s been released more than 13 minutes. But Tesla? Tesla makes me melt.

I could write about how my trip to North Carolina ended with me not being able to figure out how to return a car at the airport in Ocean City, Maryland.
I could write about how unless I can manage to pull something highly creative and downright brilliant out of my ass I’ll be in Georgia by week end.
I could write about my family invading my life this weekend.
I could write about how incredibly unfair I feel the standards of raising children are in my family and I could even go so far as to bitch at the fact that I got a damn short straw.
I could write about my mother continuing to invade my life for the rest of this week.
I could write about how I’m still dwelling and how so uncool that is.
I could write about how missing Aaron win Crown made me so incredibly homesick.
I could write about how somehow someway I completely lost my Sunday.
I could write about how in all the hoopla I totally forgot that I am spearheading a company wide meeting in 90 minutes despite the fact that I haven’t a clue what I plan to say.

But all of that would be negative and I am trying so desperately to not go there today. So you guys step up and tell me how your weekends went and maybe later on I’ll have it in me to regale all of you with tales of bra shopping and retail therapy…

Today I had an epiphany. See, I�ve been in this really bitchy mood lately. Some of it was I needed a bit of a recharge but the rest was just all this negative pent up energy I keep trying to negate. I even tried going into boy-crazy mode, but that only worked for about 16 minutes. But then I realized what was wrong in my world.

I�ve talked before about how I compartmentalize my life and really this is the main reason right here. I have this bitchy streak that runs straight thru me, but I need it to be functional at work. It�s one of the major contributing factors of how I got to be in the position that I am in today. But lately? Work has been going amazingly well. There have been little issues here and there, but I haven�t had to �fix� anything since like December so I haven�t been able to funnel my mean streak into anything productive. Hence the bitchy brooding.

Here�s what sucks � I�m the problem fixer for my company. The problems they brought me to Florida to fix? Done. We have ourselves a smooth sailing ship here, peoples. This is normally where I exit stage right, but my company wants me to stick it out here and see if I can maintain the systems I actually set into place. They actually want me to fall into this day-to-day rut. I don�t do day-to-day well. I get bored, and apparently when I can�t funnel the bitchiness into work it infects the other compartments of my life.

Which is where we are now � the Bitchy Sabine. One of you should have really stepped up and tried to kick my ass at War. I would have probably eaten your spleen, but you don�t really need your spleen� and I sure would have felt a whole helluvalotbetter because of it.

No wonder I just want the boy to ball up and pick a fight with me� damn.

I just never realized how much I start to fester in a pleasant and complacent work environment. This sucks. I want the cute little snarky passive Sabine back. I just have to find a new place to funnel this shit, before I start sabotaging shit just so I can put it back together again.

And quick too, cause I think I�m only a few days away from starting shit�