Aug 29, 2007

But You Won't Find Any of That Here

For the four years I lived in Muncie, I had roommates. It made sense - that's what you're supposed to do in college, right? I shared tiny dorm rooms for my first two years before moving into a ridiculous apartment with a rotating roster of roommates (oooh - alliteration!). We each had our own bedrooms and bathrooms, but that didn't ease the tensions that come from personalities that mix about as well as vinegar and baking soda.

Like most people, I don't like being told what to do. It's not that I have an authority problem - I'm fine with certain people (my boss, my mom) giving instructions, but I'm just way not cool taking orders from someone that I live with by choice. I got sick of a world where leaving the coffee maker off, but plugged in was a major offense and cooking dinner for friends was almost inexcusable.

When I moved to Memphis, living with people wasn't even an option. I just didn't have the patience for it any more. So now, I live alone in an apartment that sometimes feels too big for just the one of me, but would feel entirely too crowded if there were two.

And somehow, even though I didn't intend to, I feel like I'm constantly an anecdote in "Sex and the Single Girl" or some other book about the brave women who chose to live by themselves.

Tonight, for example, I got home and did the dishes. Then I sat at the kitchen table in my underwear, ate some left over chocolate peanut butter cake, and read Television Without Pity recaps of "Big Love".

Sure, sometimes it's kind of lonely. After days like today, I wish I had someone to come home to, someone who would let me properly vent. And there are nights like last night, when all I want to do is get the damn lid off of the tomato sauce so that I can eat some spaghetti, and it won't budge. Short of banging on it repeatedly with the butt end of a steak knife and then running hot water over it, I didn't know what to do. I was plotting what I could possibly add to the noodles that were almost finished in the event that the jar wouldn't open. Then I thought about smashing the jar, gently against the counter. I started to imagine what I would do in a desperate Survivor Man type situation, in which the only sustinance I had was a tightly sealed jar of Prego.

But despite all of that, I like living by my lonesome. Because living alone means never having to say you're sorry. It also means never having to unplug the coffee maker.

In matters unrelated, I'll be in Muncie from late Friday night through earlyish Monday morning. I'm DJing at Village Green Records on Saturday night, and you should come out. You have no idea how much fun we'll have.

meet me by the vending machine,

Aug 27, 2007

Everything I Know, I Learned From GQ

When I was in high school band, I used to get nominated for the best dressed award every year. I found it not only strange that I got nominated for such a thing, but also that a high school band had superlatives. Granted, I think my nomination for Best Dressed was largely a joke. I rarely look like total crap, but I think I could use a little help. I've often fantasied about going on What Not To Wear, not only for the chance to totally rebuild my wardrobe with fabulous things, but also to just get a little help.

So last week, when JohnnyMac asked me to come shopping with him and help him pick out some nice work clothes, I was a little surprised. First of all, he works in IT. He doesn't have to dress up for work every day. But, I'm all for lending any sort of hand to a guy that wants to dress nicely. It seems like so many men think that they don't even have to try, or that their clothes are just something that they wear so that they don't get arrested.

I picked JohnnyMac up on Sunday, and we drove out to the fancy open-air mall in Collierville. I had called my brother on the way to JohnnyMac's house to find out exactly where I should take a man shopping. JohnnyMac had agreed to try just about anything, with the exception of horizontally striped thick cotton polo shirts. Apparently, those shirts are the shirts of douchebags, and I was not about to allow JohnnyMac to look like a douche.

We went in Banana Republic, where by the end of half an hour, I had every sales person in the store fawning over JohnnyMac, bringing in sizes, making suggestions, and passing judgment on each new outfit. At one point, I passed a thin sweater and a button down shirt with a small pattern on it over the dressing room door and instructed JohnnyMac to try them on at the same time. When he opened the door, he had the button down on over the sweater and unbuttoned, which is absolutely contrary to the way layering is usually done. Hell, maybe he should have bought both items and worn them like that. Maybe it would be the Next Big Fashion Thing. Male models in New York and Milan would be strutting catwalks in reversed layers. Fashion spreads in men's mags would tout the inventiveness of it. It could be amazing.

But, I digress.

We went to Express, where I had a hard time picking out clothes that weren't overtly douchy. There were lots of cargo shorts and printed t-shirts and really fugly polos. But among all of the fugly, I managed to find this outfit:

Yes, that's a sweater vest, and yes, I think it looks damn good.

After trips to several more stores, (including a trip to the Gap that made me experience a moment of temporary insanity in which I decided that man cardigans were where it's at sartorially), JohnnyMac was starting to look less like a 16 year old computer dork and more like a highly trained adult. He bought some pants, a shirt, and the most awesome non-dryer-safe sweater ever. I'm glad I thought to explain that cashmere blends should be hand washed before there was a washing machine disaster.

The whole experience was a really good one, and I'd gladly do it again. JohnnyMac was easygoing, and tried on everything I brought him, no matter how questionable my taste was. I'm apparently way more qualified to dress other people than I thought I would be. It doesn't hurt that I tend to know what I like, or that I'm pretty strongly opinionated. It also probably helps that I have at least two years of GQ back issues in my apartment and a healthy addiction to Go Fug Yourself. All I know is that if JohnnyMac ever needs a suit, I want to go with him to pick it out.

Sartorially yours,

Aug 22, 2007

You Would Know, Wouldn't You....

Tonight, I went to buy a six pack of beer from the local grocery store. Excerpts from a real conversation with the clerk at said grocery store:

Her: I need to see some ID.

Me: Here you go. (hands over ID)

Her: Oooooh....Scorpio!

Me: Yeah. I guess. Not really sure what it means, though.

Her: It means you're secretive....and freaky. Like, sexually. But you're a thinker.

Me: Um, right. Ok, then.

Check back this weekend for a very special update. A work friend has enlisted my help in finding some new clothes. I guess he could tell by looking at me that I'm an avid reader of GQ and Esquire. Anyway, I'm taking him shopping, and am planning to take him from regular IT dude to grown up, employed, adult dude. I plan to take a bunch of pictures and write about it here. Think of it as an episode of What Not To Wear, only with a stylist who can barely dress herself. Check for that update early next week.

In the meantime, I'll be getting a little freaky. Or something. I'll probably just go to sleep.

ever the scorpio,

Aug 19, 2007

And The Good News Is

The other night, I met a dude while I was out with some friends. The dude works in a medical research lab in a hospital, so he deals with biohazards. He told me that recently, he had been trying to find a cure for ferrets infected with bird flu. Thus, we shall call him the Ferret Wrangler.

So the Ferret Wrangler and I start hanging out. Tuesday, I called him as I was leaving work to see if he wanted to have dinner with me. He had told me that he had a really bad day at work on Monday, but was feeling better and wanted to hang out. I went to his house to collect him, and things were going fine. That is, until he stopped me and said, "I have something kinda serious I need to talk to you about."

This being the third time we had hung out, I was a little concerned. He continued..."So, the reason I had such a bad day at work Monday was because there's the tiniest of tiny chances that I may have, uh, contracted the bird flu."

He went on to explain that one of the filters on his respirator had come off, and as soon as he noticed, he got out of the room and got some medical attentions. Then he goes on to say:

"So, um, I asked pretty much every doctor I could find if I was going to be alright, and they said I was. So, then I told them that I was supposed to hang out with a girl, and didn't want to give her bird flu. So, um, I just thought I should let you know. You do have health insurance, right?"

The good news is, it's Sunday, and I'm bird flu negative.

And I just typed "Sunday" as "Stunday". Right.

God, why am I so awkward?

number one stunna,

Aug 12, 2007

Nobody Stands Between Me and My Man

Does anyone else ever have those days when you're working, or reading, or watching lots of CNN video on the internet and it just doesn't occur to you to turn any lights on? I always wonder why my MLGW bill is so low, and I really think it's because half the time, I forget to turn my lights on. Maybe it's some sort of inner Al Gore quietly whispering that I don't need to be able to clearly see in the living room if I'm sitting at the kitchen table.

I went out last night with one of my friends, and we met up with some other people, and the night stretched into this morning, and next thing I knew, I was up at Barksdale's eating breakfast with one of the kids from Red Hot Lindy Hop.

Yesterday, I also went to the gym, and I did more crunches that should probably be legal. Who invented the crunch? Why is it so aptly named? My abs feel like an aluminum can that's been run crushed on the forehead of a rather large man with a beer gut. If I keep up the crunches, my own small beer gut will soon be replaced with actual muscles. I've never considered myself to be athletic, or to even really care what I looked like, as long as I was eating healthily and happy with myself. And it's not that I care about that now, but the act of going to the gym just feels really good.

Speaking of cans, my mom saw an armadillo in her back yard the other day. Alive. Like, running around. I was always under the impression that armadillos sprouted from the pavement at the shoulders of interstates on their backs, little legs sticking out of their tin can bodies, already dead. I'm also a little concerned that there are armadillos in Memphis. My mom's back yard isn't exactly the interstate, so I'm not sure what the little dude was doing so far from home.

While I was out at my mom's yesterday, we started watching the family videos that Andybond had put onto DVD for us. I watched myself, at age three, run around the house, constantly talking, often with no pants on. Even though I couldn't physically dress myself, my mom started letting me pick out my own outfits at a very young age, and I had some very interesting ideas about what matched. Between my incessant talking and running around and questioning everything, it's a wonder my mother survived. It's also a wonder my parents didn't realise that I had ADD until I was 14.

whenever you want your direction to switch,

Aug 8, 2007

Learn How to Smile and Divide Up Our Friends

I feel like I should offer everyone a little heads up about my current situation, just so the last post isn't so maudlin.

After three years together, Colin and I have split up. It ended as well as it could have, and I'm confident that one day, we will be able to reconstruct our friendship. In the meantime, I just want to say that I enjoyed our relationship, and if I had it to do over again, I would. He's a wonderful person, and I hope nothing but good things happen for him.

That said, I've been quite a mess today. I did go to work, but I was allowed to work from my apartment this afternoon.

Thank you to all of the people who have called, or emailed, or offered to help me through this. Your generosity is overwhelming, and every time I think about it, I cry.

Then again, today, I'm crying about almost everything.

I'll get through this, but it may take a while. Please be patient with me.

is this how it ends,

Aug 7, 2007

The Girl Who

Um...I could really use some friends right now.


Aug 6, 2007

And If It's Quite Alright, I Need You Baby

I've had the Frankie Valli song "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" stuck in my head all day. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal - I always have some song stuck in my head. The problem with this particular song is that I feel compelled to sing it out loud, with hand motions. Jazz hands, in particular. Because of this, it's now stuck in Kristin's head, too.

This comes after last night when I couldn't sleep because I had that Lordi song from the last entry stuck in my head.

Last night was pretty awesome, though - Kristin (who's in town for a few days) and Andy (his last night in town) spent the night, and we had a little slumber party. We watched "Mean Girls" and "Little Miss Sunshine", and threatened to give Andy a make-over and play Truth or Dare.

After the movies, Kristin went to bed, and Andy and I stayed up chatting and giggling (that was mostly me) about really stupid things (like Lordi). I could not get to sleep - I tried almost everything. Kristin was asleep on my futon, so I couldn't do the Simon & Garfunkel Sleep Aid. Instead, I took a Tylenol PM, which didn't work either. As a result, getting up and being a functional employee this morning was a little difficult.

It was also difficult to say goodbye to Andy. He's one of my best friends, and though I know his last semester will be brilliant, it's still a shame that I can't call him for a beer or a drive, or when I need a Himmler for my cockroach holocaust.

After I got home from work today, Colin and I went to the gym for the second time. It's going pretty well - I ran on the treadmill, rode the bike, and did some weights. I've been feeling it the next day, so I know I'm doing something. Weirdly enough, I'm kind of enjoying it. I was in an absolutely wretched mood this afternoon, and after I worked out, I felt worlds better. I'm not sure when the results will be visible. I'm actually a little scared - I want to firm up a bit, sure, but I don't want to look like Lady Rambo (or Rambette). I've grown to like my foodbaby, and I'm not sure I'm ready to lose it. I've been told it's cute.

In other news, today's entry is the first one from my brand new MacBook! It's quite the sexy computing machine, and though I haven't had a lot of time to play with it yet, I'm sure it will be soon. In the meantime, though, I have to get to bed. Tonight, I'm going to sleep like a...sleeping thing.

all we need is lightning,