I really need to get more sleep… or find a hobby that eats up more of my time.

I just watched an infomercial in slack jawed amazement. For 30 minutes. Like a kid watching ice melt. What was the miracle product that will revolutionize my life, you ask?

The WonderVase

WonderVase’s website - you must go and watch the video. Must.

_helpme

I have a secret.

Ready for it?

Sure?

(Read on …)

Saturday morning at about 2 a.m. I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom and said to myself “This isn’t hard – I can do this.”

I then commenced to doing.

_{(Note to self: Neverever attempt to cut my own hair again.)}

This wasn’t exactly a spontaneous act. I planned this, kinda. I have 2 friends with long hair that both cut their own hair. And I thought “why not me?” But knowing that many things that start out with that statement end up in disaster and opted to do this on the night prior to going to the salon for my pedicure knowing that if I screwed it up someone there would be able to fix it.

Saturday morning I walked in and the first words out of the receptionist’s mouth were “You tried to cut your own hair, didn’t you? What the hell were you thinking?? *sigh* I’ll work you into Kelly’s schedule.” So I got my feet babied and my hair deidiotified and felt better for it and then it happened.

Remember my neighbor? You know the one. Huge bulking man who lifts weights in his bikini briefs at the crack of dawn outside my window? With the shoulders, and the legs, and the sweating, and the live-in girlfriend. Yeah, him. His name is Jeremy, and yesterday he finally got his hands on me.

As Kelly was trying to calm me down because my hair is now magically entirely to close to my shoulders for my personal comfort. She said “You look stressed, want me to check and see if there was a cancellation in the massage schedule?” I gulped my coffee and nodded. Sure enough there was one, but the receptionist hesitated in giving me the appt. citing that the therapist was a bit rougher than most. I explained the deal between my last therapist in Texas, and he relented fully expecting me to come back in 20 minutes demanding my money back.

Imagine my surprise when Jeremy steps into the room. We talk for a bit. He explains how he does things. I explain that I would consider it a good massage if by the end of the 90 minutes both of us were sweating and at least one of should be crying. He laughed, lit a candle, hit the lights –

And the clouds parted and the angels sang

or maybe it was Sevendust.

Either way it was the best massage of my entire life. And today I feel as if I could conquer the world. And Jeremy is shocked cause I was the first woman that he was able to go all out on.

I need to bake that boy a cake.

I need to learn how to bake a cake.

Oh and there was a date yesterday as well. It had all the elements of being a great date – sushi, a boat, and a perfect guy. But in actuality the sushi was just okay. The boat was great, but the getting to the boat, on the boat, off the boat, and away from the boat was a horrific crowded traffic and logistics nightmare.

And the perfect guy? Entirely too perfect – “you can’t touch him cause you’ll smudge him” perfect.

I won’t be calling him, and I doubt he’ll call me, and I doubt I’ll be heartbroken.

Of course after the date, Sarah called to tell me that Dorie was gone. That dog was the easiest dog in the world to love, and I did. I can’t believe she’s gone. Poor Sarah. I love you, hun.

I love you, Dorie.

And I’ll miss you.

It’s 2 a.m. and Starbuck’s really needs to be open 24 hours. Someone should get on that.

Due to some unforeseeable circumstances (fuckyouverymuchJames), I am finding it necessary to instigate an across the board password change.

All passwords. Effectively somewhat immediately. Details forthcoming. Email me for new passwords.

And just for safety’s sake, If I have shared a private post with you at any time – it’s been deleted. If for some reason you need continued access to it, let me know and I’ll email you the transcripts.

Update: According to Chris, condoinhell’s Resident Security Geek, each protected post should have its own password. So he said it, and so it shall be done.

So Dirk and I are on a mailing list together, one that Dirk happens to moderate, and that I happen to lurk behind the scenes waiting for the inevitable train wreck. And it’s going to happen one of these days. The list is made up of single people from around Ansteorra, and while there are some very nice healthy individuals on the list – it also managed to attract every batshitcrazy single person that gives all of us normal single people a bad rep.

Case in Point – We have ScummyOldMan. Who joined the list very early on, but yesterday posted a comment that for me was the last straw. Dirk, a heavy fighter, had jokingly posted a message asking where was the fun in going to a rapier only event. ScummyOldMan answered:

“Dirk, my lad. You poor unenlightened boy.

Why, just for the view, it is worth it. “

I’ll give you a moment to visualize the sentiments that came spewing out of my mouth, before I quite calmly emailed Dirk:

It’s time to be a moderator and either make this guy apologize or leave the list. This isn’t the first time his humor has been a little off-color, but now it’s downright offensive. So have at it!

Love, Sabine
“Tee Hee”, my ass.

I have no issue with a man enjoying the décolletage. But I did not choose my garb specifically for the amount of cleavage it shows. When you have a good amount of cleavage you only have 2 real options – display it in its natural state, or bind it down. And frankly binding is too uncomfortable and not worth the hassle. I don’t display my cleavage, I don’t wear a corset to push my breasts up under my nose (even though we did discover I could lick them one drunken night… but you don’t need to hear that story). I simply let them be what they are. But them being - doesn’t give some ScummyOldMan the right to sit there and drool and demean my intelligence.

And I do have further proof of this guy being a certifiable Asshat with his supposed humor. Like:

“On-line just does not compare with the feeling of the warmth of another body near you. And the good smell of two horny people. Or the better smell of two exhausted, satisfied people.”

“Who is freezing? And needs body warmth? I know I do!!
Any takers for a shared motel room for 12th Night?”

Both of those comments were met with dismay from the female population, but he didn’t seem too upset that he was obviously making people uncomfortable.

*sigh* I guess every group has to have one.

Since apparently I’m in a recommendy mood - about 48 hours ago the new Yellowcard CD was released, and if you don’t own it yet then you should be ashamed of your slacktuitiveness.

And for those of you who need a bit more I will give you 2 of the great songs you would already be in love with if you were on top of the game…

City of Devils

Don’t you just love that?

How I Go

And yes, you do recognize the female… don’t you? It’s Natalie Maines… The short crazy blonde Dixie Chick? Yep – that’s her.

And while I’m on this stint, I’d also like to recommend that the giddy little 16 year old girl living in my head go back to whatever pit I found her in. Please? I’m starting to annoy myself. I may have even giggled a few hours ago. I *so* don’t giggle. And I especially don’t giggle at things that have the possibility to make my life more complicated.

*sigh* the sacfrices I make for my friends…

_{heehee (shut it, Sabine)}

(Oh and if you still have some lunch money left go ahead and buy the new P.O.D. CD as well - it doesn’t suck near as much as it could have.)

So I stole this book from Sarah a few weeks back, not so much stole as I waited till I was out of the state to inform her it was taking a bit of a joyride… and I have almost every intention of returning it and the other 5 books of hers that mystically made their way to Florida.

Digressing. Book.

There is this book. The cover looks something like this –

And it’s aptly named “Cherries in the Snow”. Oh, and the authorchick is Emma Forest.

So, um, not the greatest plot, but when you start to get into the book you realize something… this book is the book that would fall out of my head if I had any desire to write a book. Which, for the record, I don’t – you may all breathe a sigh of relief that I will never torture you with more proofreading than an occasional bland research paper or dry class hand out. Which, speaking of, anyone game for a dry class handout? I got one coming off the presses this weekend if the gods like me.

Dammit. Digressing. Book.

So yes, the book. Let’s see it’s made up of –

- Grammar that is written as one would speak it, sound familiar?
- A chic with a thing for older men… that ends up falling for a man entirely too young and entirely too strange, but strange in that “was perfect all along” way.
- And who doesn’t really know what to do with kids.
- She knows her makeup like I know my music.
- Her oddities and awkwardness are surpassed only by her friends’ oddities and awkwardness…. and that sounds all too familiar, as well.

Oh, and did I mention the sarcasm? I want to have this woman’s lovechildren.

It’s short. It will make you laugh. Most importantly it won’t make you think. I suggest reading it in the bathtub and starting it only after the first bottle of wine is halfway gone. Go ahead! Give it a try. We can all go back to reading Nietzsche tomorrow.

All in all, it was an excellent weekend. I got to see all my incredible friends. I stood outside and thought the most evil of evil thoughts and the gods saw fit to not strike me down on the spot (I figure that means they must approve). Gwen and I got to be naughty for a bit and talk evil plans in the corner while giggling like school girls. In the span of about 45 seconds I went from being me… to being me, head over heels in love with a Boy. That 45 seconds made the entire event/drive/hassle/stress so worth it. I got to spend awesome time with Sarah plotting out our plans for some inter-kingdom strife. I got to surprise the shit out of dozens of people who had no clue I was going to be there. I ate Mexican food not once or twice, but a grand total of 5 times before heading back to this MexicanFoodLessHellhole. I got to tickle Lochlan till he cried Mercy. My ass was groped by both Liam and Moira on more than one occasion. I got to sit on Kief’s lap and get ratsniffed. I had a chance to really sit down with Jenn and talk which was something longlong overdue. There was sewing and fabric shopping… and the Buttons. Ohoh, the Buttons…

More details behind the cut - (Read on …)

Yes, I am home.
Yes, I am still alive.
Yes, It was a long fucking drive.

I am working on typing up the mishaps of the weekend, but that will have to wait till I can get home tonight (whenever that will be). Till then a meme, and I did include a few inside jokes from the weekend just to serve as a sneak peek of what�s to come�

(Read on …)

Well it’s 12:30 and I’m still at work… I swear there is some helltroll out there with only one sole purpose in life. Unfortunately for me, that purpose is to make sure that everything that can possibly go wrong at work does so in the 6 hours before I am scheduled to leave on vacation.

The thought of leaving at 3 p.m., as planned, is actually laughable now…

*headdesk*

Sarah? Don’t forget to pack that Blender.

1. Name:
2. Date of birth:
3. Where you live:
4. What makes you happy:
5. Currently listening/the last thing you listened to:
6. Do you read my journal?:
7. If yes, what makes it especially good or bad?:
8. An interesting fact about you:
9. Are you in love/do you have a crush at the moment?:
10. Favourite place to spend time:
11. Favourite lyric:
12. The best time of the year:

RECOMMEND
1. A film:
2. A book:
3. A band, a song, or album:

PLUS
1. One thing you like about me:
2. Two things you like about yourself:
3. Look at my friends-list and tell what you like about one of our mutual friends (does not apply, unless you happen to be know how to find my livejournal friends list):
4. Put this in your journal/blog so that I can tell you what I like about you.

2.5 hours, unaided - woot!

There are constants in my world that all of us have grown to count on. Like �

Old rockstars will continue to try and reinvent themselves to compete with the younger generation, when they really had the formula right the first time around.Dean Koontz will always put out at least one book a year.

There is no end to the amount of �ideas� the late V.C. Andrews left to her ghost writer.

Elvis isn�t dead.

and Sabine doesn�t wear jeans.

Yeah�well.

On Christmas EveEve, that last idea kinda came to a screeching halt. The company I work for has a very strict dress code for field personnel. I�m talking formal business attire. It sucks ass in ways you can�t imagine. I have fought it, I have ignored it, I have lied about it� Hell - I blatantly disregarded it for close to 4 years. They let me get away with it cause I was one of the �creative types� and I never really came into contact with clients so people didn�t bitch � much. Then I moved to Florida and got shoved right on top of every client we have and now, all the sudden, I�m stuck in a suit everyday (I so didn�t sign up for this shit�)

But anyways � Since everyone has this strict code they must adhere to the casual days become more important than vacations. Seriously everybody works on casual days� You don�t miss them. It isn�t that hard since there are only 4 a year. Yeah, my company allows their employees to wear jeans 4 days a year � one of those days being the last working day before Christmas. A practice that I have completely ignored, cause I don�t wear jeans� I don�t even own jeans, for my entire tenure here. Until Christmas EveEve, the last working day before Christmas, when my phone rings shortly after lunch. It�s my CEO � and I received a new order that by the next �jean day� I must own and wear a pair of jeans.

Apparently when I walked into the office that morning, a general panic spread throughout the office.

�She isn�t wearing jeans, why isn�t she wearing jeans?� �Were we not supposed to wear jeans today?� �Did she move jean day?� �She wouldn�t have cancelled jean day, right?� �Should I go change? I should go change�� �Is she going to be pissed we are wearing jeans?� �I knew I shouldn�t have worn jeans today, I�m so getting fired�

I shit you not, people. There was terror in these peoples’ eyes, but of course I was completely clueless. No one actually had the nerve to ball up and walk into my office and ask me about it. No. Instead some admin in my office talked to another admin in another office, and in 3 hours it circulated its way thru a total of 5 offices and 7 admins before making it to my CEO�s admin, who had herself a great laugh as she told my CEO (who was wearing jeans, as well). Who called me and issued the decree.

I must buy jeans even if I only wear them 4 days a year. Must. And not only just wear them, but I must make a big deal about the upcoming jean day so all the employees know it’s really ok to wear jeans. Must.

I’ve been order to be excited about wearing jeans.

So jeans have been bought, and I have even worn them a few times in an attempt to try and get used to them. And I may bring them this weekend� maybe. So try not to be too shocked.

And yes, they did get expensed back to the company.

And yes, there is more to this story but I actually feel as if I could sleep some… and that wins.

nightnight

So I am going to write this and then bury it behind some other posts, cause in my sick twisted demented mind no one actually comes here and reads past the first post or two.

Today I went to a small brown building. The small brown building had a fancy name that was supposed to make me feel better about the fact I was expected to enter the building, but really? It embarrassed me. I am fairly certain I know how a man feels walking into a fertility clinic to find out why his little friends aren�t swimming up the river.

Today I went to see the sleepshrink.

And there was an hour of talking and me being oh so grateful that I had some forethought to bring my medical history with me. When I start to rattle off the meds I am currently taking, or the meds I have gone off of, eyes tend to go round and it�s much better to have little pieces of paper in a folder to back me up.

And some more talking. She determined that �My current life situations are causing me an extreme amount of stress� (No shit? Wow. Thanks, Doc. You’re a miracle worker.)

I�m supposed to find the yoga studio when I get back from Texas� and start the blasted sleep journal.

I could write it all down in a journal, but I firmly believe that journals are better left blank. Besides I have a blog, what better way to keep track of my errant sleep? And it pretty much ensures that I update this damn thing on a somewhat more regular basis than I have these past few months�

And this is some exciting shit, I know all of you are just dying to know the precise times I have slept. (work with me here, peoples) I figure it just be the inside joke, you know that random notation at the bottom of the entries that no one knows what they mean, but aren’t willing to ask about cause they don’t want to be the stupid one who doesn’t know (What? Oh like you haven’t felt that way before…)

For the GrandStart I�ll go back as far as I can remember which currently means last Thursday Night.

Thursday Night, Jan 5th � Gave up on the idea of trying to sleep at 4:00 a.m. Friday Morning. No Sleep.
Friday Night, Jan 6th � Sleeping Pill around midnight. Sleep for 6.5 hours.
Saturday, Jan 7th � No Sleep.
Sunday, Jan 8th � Sleeping Pill around 10:30 p.m. Fell asleep at 2:30 a.m. Slept for 2 hours.
Monday, Jan 9th � Slept for an hour before work on Tuesday morning.

Yeah, in the past 5 days, I�ve slept 9.5 hours. I�d be worried if I didn�t feel pretty damn good. I go thru times when I�m tired but its always right in the middle of something huge at the office where I can�t get away and try and sleep, and by the time I�m home the need is gone and I�m awake.

At least I don�t have to worry about getting sleepy while making the trek Thursday Night.

And that bright side I spoke of? Everyone always bitches about trying to find the way to squeeze more hours in the day. My overachiever self accomplished it. Imagine all the things I can get done, while you are wasting time asleep. My kitchen has never been cleaner. And I think I may actually run out of books to read in a month or so�

Libra

Right now, it’s all about action. And if it’s not showing up where you need it, you’re more than capable of going out and hunting it down yourself. Just make sure you aren’t thrill-seeking to avoid dealing with a certain situation.

Apparently we are now calling it “thrill-seeking” *winkwink*

Assignment: Learn how to kiss a woman, just like Burke.

Homework: Track down Episode 5 (Shake Your Groove Thing) or Episode 22 (Straight to the Heart – it’s the recap episode) of Grey’s Anatomy. Observe Burke and Yang’s first kiss. THAT – That is the way a man should kiss a woman. That is all there is to this lesson.

Learn how to kiss a woman, just like Burke.

I even have it saved to my TiVo. You can come over and watch it anytime. Take notes. Watch it in slow motion. Whatever it takes. But if you can’t kiss like Burke then you are a disappointment to the male race.

I mean that in the most loving way possible.

I will marry the man who can kiss me, just like Burke… but he will probably still have to do dishes.

I’ve been ignoring this meme for weeks… cause I could get in so much trouble. But I caved, I did however refrain from using my first… and second choices. When it was all said and done though it actually came out pretty well.

1.Choose a band / artist and answer ONLY in titles of their songs:
Everclear (and bonus points to the one who can guess correctly which answer made me decide to choose this band)

2. Are you male or female:
The Good Witch of the North

3. Describe yourself:
Normal Like You

4. How do some people feel about you?
Speed Racer

5. How do you feel about yourself?
Her Brand New Skin

6. Describe your ex boyfriend / girlfriend:
So Much for the Afterglow

7. Describe your current love interest:
All Fucked Up

8. Describe where you want to be:
Summerland

9. Describe how you live:
Like a California King

10. Describe how you love:
You Make Me Feel Like a Whore

11. What would you ask for if you had just one wish:
I Want to Die a Beautiful Death

12. Share a few words of Wisdom:
Watch the World Die

13. Now say goodbye:
Here We Go Again…

Oh and Chris? I don’t know what happened to my copy of “Slow Motion Daydream” but it isn’t on the server anymore. What happened to it? Can you fix it? PrettyPlease? I don’t think I have a hard copy anymore.

So it was pointed out to me, oh so subtly, today that I have yet to tell the story of how I came to be in possession of Eduardo, and I think that I may have actually been threatened.

The story begins in January, last January, if you will remember the fateful weekend I found out I was moving to this godforsaken place; I was visiting my Mother. We went shopping and while out she took me to her favorite store.

You see, I come by my purse fetish honestly. You think my purse collection is a bit much? You have never seen Mom’s. Mom’s makes me want to cry. Cause while I buy a lot of purses… Mom buys a lot more purses, a lot of really expensive purses. Before Eduardo my most expensive purse was a Coach bag I bought at retail for around $500. That’s a lot of money for a purse for me, but it was a Coach and it was black… and honestly it’s so timeless that my granddaughter should be able to carry it. Everyone should own a Coach bag. For the most part though most of my purses fall under the $100 mark. Most.

Last January, Mom takes me to this exclusive purse store in South Beach… where she proceeds to drop 5 grand on a purse. This is a thought I couldn’t have even wrapped my head around, if I was paying any attention… which I wasn’t. I was drooling all over this purse. It’s eggplant suede. In a hobo slouch style. Absolutely fucking phenomenal for Sabine. I almost broke down and bought it price tag unseen. But in the back of my mind I heard the conversation between the saleslady and my Mom and that extra 0 tacked onto the end was really hard to miss.

My purse was at least cheaper than Mom’s. It came in for a total of $1000. I ogled it a bit longer but ultimately walked away extremely happy that my willpower had allowed me to do so. Mom made fun of me, we went home, I went back to my meetings, my whole life changed, and dammit I wished I had bought that purse…

Fast forward to the day after Christmas, Mom got a gift certificate from her husband to her little purse heaven. So we had to go… and my beautiful little purse was still there! No one else wanted the cute little eggplant purse! And the saleslady remembered me! And how much I had wanted that purse! And then Mom started talking! And then I handed over my credit card! Without even thinking about it!

Coming to my senses, I freaked a bit. My hand shook a bit as I signed the slip. The saleslady and my Mom laughed at me. I’m fairly certain there was a “My little girl is all grown up!” speech from my Mom.

And I walked out of that store with a $1000 dollar purse on my shoulder (there was no way I was spending that kind of money and letting it go into a bag where people couldn’t see that I had JUST BOUGHT A $1000 PURSE!)

For the following week it was all about “Me and my $1000 Purse are going to lunch” or “Me and my $1000 Purse are going to the bathroom” or “Me and my $1000 Purse are going to bed”, and then my assistant decided that if I was going to keep referring to my purse as a companion then I needed to name him. So Everybody? Say hello to Eduardo!!

And to answer the questions I have received:

Yes, he is darker than the pic.
No, that isn’t fringe.
Yes, that is a tassel.
Yes, he does come with his own lifetime warranty.
Yes, they will clean him for me once a year.
Yes, he came with his own storage bag.

Oh – I’m going to be in Texas next week.

The Current Plan – goes something like this:

Thursday (Jan 12th)– Drive to Sarah’s to spend quality time with my couch.
Friday – Drive to Dallas for fabric shopping (shut it) and depending on things and whether Sarah can join me for said fabric shopping, either crash in Dallas someplace or head out to our hotel room in Canton.
Saturday – Coronation – hotel room in Canton – party somewhere other than my hotel room but preferably in my hotel.
Sunday – Drive to Amalia’s house and probably beg crash space with her. Work on cotes.
Monday – Work on cotes. Drive to Sarah’s – more time with my couch.
Tuesday (Jan 17th)– Drive home.

Here - I’ll say it for you.

“Sabine? You are fucking crazy!”

Yeah, I know. So, um, what hotel is everyone staying at? And who is volunteering to drink with Sarah and I?