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.

Something else I can talk about is my new apparent need to become a rabbit. You wouldn’t believe my current eating habits. I haven’t had any sort of meat in well over 2 weeks, hell I even ordered a pizza this weekend and it was vegetarian. And this week, I took it even one step further, all my food? Raw. I’m not trying to be a rabbit. It just kinda happened. I made a pact with myself a few weeks ago to cut out all drive-thru meals, cause I spend too much time in my car and drive-thru becomes too easy. It just isn’t healthy. Apparently my stomach interpreted that as ALL FOOD MUST COME FROM THE FARMER’S MARKET, but that isn’t really what I had in mind either. So I don’t think I’m doing it to be healthy and if I am, I’m so blaming Sarah and her health kick.

…oh… maybe that is it. Maybe this was all part of the mojo trade off. If so, it looks like I didnt give everything back as promised.

Sarah? You aren’t by chance having dinner at Sonic tonight, are you?

Update: My stomach just remembered that sushi is in fact raw and it’s okay with that. So I’m going to take advantage of that and go have a real meal before it changes it’s mind.

So what do you talk about when the thing that is first and foremost in your mind is something you can’t talk about? And the second thing is an uber secret evil plan with an emphasis on the secret part?

…

The Blackberry Green Tea Frappuccino doesn’t suck near as much as I expected it to. I may even dig it a bit… well as much as I can dig a Starbuck’s beverage that has no coffee in it.

…

Yeah, I got nuthin’.

…

Oh! Sarah asked for songs! Songs I can do. In fact a while back I ran across a song that really spoke to me and it reminds me of Sarah a bit, as well. Cause while the changes we are going thru aren’t the same we are both going thru a changing stage whether we like it or not…
So here you go, Sarah. Love you.

“In Your Own Way” by Caleb Kane

And take a minute to reflect in your own way
Take your time and connect in your own way
I know it’s good to be alone some days
But you got a long face in your own way, baby
I know you got a big heart in your own way
Independent and smart in your own way
And even though you get along somehow
You’re missing out now in your own way, baby

And since you asked so nicely I’ll even let you borrow my 2 personal anthems.

“One Hit Wonder” by Everclear

and

“Walk the Walk” by Poe

Don’t you just love how when you sit on a decision you don’t want to have to make… after a while the decision just makes itself? The biggest query of my month just answered itself. Life is once again balanced simply because I put off making a phone call by a week.

Whoever said there isn’t virtue in procrastination was entirely too ambitious.

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 we all know I can be a fabric whore (we do all know that, right?) I buy fabric like others buy socks. The only person I know that rivals my fabric purchasing is Sarah.

On my last trip to Texas, I think I bought something like 150 yards of fabric and in it was a 10 yard piece of linen/rayon blend that was this great quirky black and white crossweave. I was cool with it being a blend cause I dug the crossweave, and I was really looking for something that would look sharp with my tippets. I have them and oddly enough have no cotes to go with them. So I thought this fabric would be perfect… until I washed it.

In prepping a fabric sendoff to Amalia I wash everything I can right before I box it up. Amalia has severe allergies and the fragrances I use in my house she is highly allergic to so I try to do what I can to not kill her. So pulling the fabric out of the washing machine, I noticed that things weren’t looking as good as they were when the fabric was sitting on my shelf begging to be cut up. Reaching my hand into the dryer was a nightmare. My linen/rayon? Is more of a rayon/_linen and I could tell by touching it that it wasn’t going to fly. I took it outside on the balcony to see it in the light. And while yes, it still looks great, it won’t wrinkle, and it drapes marvelously… I still didn’t want to use it. And I couldn’t really figure out why but I was chalking it up to the rayon content. Going back to the fabric closet I pulled out other options and this is where I really started to confuse myself… one of my perfectly acceptable options was a solid purple with very nearly the same rayon content.

I sat on my balcony for 20 minutes with these 2 hunks of fabric trying to figure out the differences. It has finally hit me. The purple? Nothing special about it. From 5 feet away it’s passable and no one would even give the cote or the fabric content a second thought. It would just be Sabine in yet ANOTHER purple cote.

The black and white? From 5 feet away it’s passable as well, but? People will notice the crossweave… and they will want to look at it… and touch it. And then they will know I’m a fake. And that? Just isn’t acceptable.

So the black and white went back on the shelf… and cause I was so pissed at myself so did the purple. And Amalia? She’s getting forest green silk from me on Wednesday.

P.S. Can you tell I’m gearing up for eventing? Cause I am or Sarah will kick my ass… and with her current mood she could probably do it without ever leaving her couch.

It was brought to my attention by one of the many Keepers that I am obviously going to need more than one DrunkDress if I plan to make it thru an entire War dressed properly. See the idea was that after my first War my Keepers began to complain because as I drank more it became harder and harder to keep track of me… I apparently have a tendency to wander when I’m tipsy. And a drunk girl wearing a black dress in a crowd of people is hard to find especially when you vowed to protect her with your life.

So there was some insisting and finally the DrunkDress was born - a hot pink monstrosity of a cotehardie that my seamstress disavows all knowledge of. It’s wonderful. Anyone over 6 foot only has to look out over the crowd of a party to spot me. Why? Cause I glow in that dress. Shortly after that the DrunkChupa came along for those cold winter DrunkNights. And today? Today, I bought 8 yards of fabric for DrunkDress ver.2

Behold the most beautiful butt ass ugly fabric known to man… or at least to me in my 2 hours of searching today -

and it is 100% linen!!! It’s going to make a kickass cote.

Coming soon to a Gothic Wars and Gulf Wars Girls’ Night Out near you.

Libra

You’ve got an unerring eye for what’s truly valuable, but this instinct is hampered by your ever-present but unvoiced fear that you’re not worthy of it. Acknowledge these thoughts and learn to deal with them.

You can commence with the kicking of my ass whenever you see fit…

My allergies have my brain all stuffy.

Must.find.nasal.attachment.on.vacuum.

You get a meme. I get nose spray. And we are all good, right?

(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.

So quickly -
Where have I been? Playing host to my Mother all week. If that wasn’t enough, work has been semi crazy especially since with the raise I actually feel the need to work harder than I have been (or something equally insane as that). Desk arrived so there has been much setting up of the office (finally). Mother worked her magic and totally rearranged my home so I have had to search for my toothbrush and coffee cup every morning.

How’s life, Sabine? Doing good… even close to settling on great, and if I can say that on the tail end of a week long visit from my Mother then life must be fucking fantastic.

Did you learn something new this week? Yep. I learned that you can’t be boy crazy on your own schedule apparently it sets it’s schedule to someone else’s appointment book… and it doesn’t always happen at the most convenient time for you.

Any new and exciting plans for the weekend? Yes. For a bit now I have been wanting to head over to Orlando, grab a hotel room, and spend a few days shopping. Cause the shopping is much better over there. So I decided that after spending the weekend with my Mother I deserved it. And then there is the matter of that bonus check burning a hole in my bank account. So I’m going. And I am taking a friend… a friend that used to be something more than a friend, but as always I’m the idiot who believes that exes can be friends after the fact. We are renting a Tahoe… He plans on golfing… I plan on spending money (cause I have a Tahoe to fill)… then we plan on drinking ourselves stupid, because after this week we both need that. We do not plan on eloping despite how happy that would make Sarah. If I’m not terribly hung over and hating life on Sunday, I’ll let everyone know how the whole “trying to be friends” thing worked out.

Or we can just all start making assumptions now…

Well I figured out a surefire way to make a Sabine happy…
Give the girl a raise… and a huge ass bonus. Then? All good.

I can never keep my annual review dates straight, cause as a manager I get like 7 different types of reviews a year and honestly this is the first time in my 5 years here that I have made it 1 year in the same position so I could warrant an actual year review… and really I didn’t even make it a year. When I got my promotion in January we opted to wait till my annual review to make any decisions on pay and such since my original date would give me a full quarter in the new job… negating that pesky 90 day review.

And if you will remember I have been here 1 year as of April 1. (Has it really been a year???)

So Mr. UPSMan brought me my little review package from New Jersey. And I? Obviously rock cause these idiots gave the girl who is already making official StupidMoney™ a raise!!!

Damn, I’m giddy. And am no longer feeling the least bit guilty for blowing $800 bucks on a dining room table desk. Yeah, this weekend I finally broke down (after a year, apparently) and bought a dining room table desk.

Of course any normal person is going to walk into my home office and ask me why I have my dining room table in there. But it isn’t a dining room table… ok well maybe the original purpose might have been vaguely dining room-ish, but we shall fix that.

I had some really great arguments for buying what I did.

Like I wanted something to give me room on top for 3 monitors, printer, and the 3 docking stations for the babies. Plus still giving me a good sized writing area to junk up.
Check - My new dining room table desk is 54″x40”

And I wanted room underneath to fit all my machines, router, switch, and battery backup.
Check - My dining room table desk has no pesky tiny leg cubby underneath plenty of room to junk things up!

I also wanted something that would enable me to use my drafting chair and forego your traditional desk chair.
Check - at 36″ tall I can actually feel tall for once in my life.

I didn’t want any pesky drawers, cause let’s face it … I would just junk them up and then one day I would either slam my finger in one of them or put a hole in my knee from catching a corner.
Check - my new dining room table desk is almost Sabine-proof… to bad the corners aren’t rounded.

I wanted something that would match all my pretty bookcases and while the store I bought the shelves from had matching dining room tables they do not sell desks… and especially not a desk that would meet all my requirements for a desk… but they did have a dining room table desk that was pretty much perfect.

(Read on …)

To defunk I rely a lot (possibly more than healthy) on music. So today I set out with intent on creating the most goddamn happy playlist I could. It kinda rocked… you should listen to the whole thing.

But I chose one band out of the fray to pass on to you tonight. They happen to be one of my current favorite bands with the mostest.

Panic! At the Disco is just rocking my world lately. More than Faktion (and damn I love me my Faktion), more than Hinder (I just want them for the sex.), and yes even more than She Wants Revenge (although I hear if I hear them live, I’ll want them for the sex as well.)

But for happy? For happy, we have Panic! (you know you want to dance… hell even I want to dance)

“I Constantly Thank God For Esteban”

Wasn’t that fun?

And now for our next trick … the snazzy song guaranteed to have you yelling out the one inappropriately perfect line in the middle of Super Target’s frozen food aisle. Oh yes, you will. And when you do? I’ll know. And I’ll laugh!

“I Write Sins Not Tragedies”

_{(and note to self - if you are going to scream out about closing a goddamn damn door… probably not best to do it in your office… with the door open… with your assistant, who is already petrified of you, sitting just outside. Just fair warning - you’ll send that girl into tears.)}

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…

Aaron won!!!!

Looks like I’ll see everyone at Coronation.