More from the edge

There's something I need to get off my chest. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I was driving home from work last night, sitting in traffic, and just happened to look at the car to my right. The driver was wearing headphones. I need someone to explain this to me. Immediately.

I've been seeing quite a bit of this lately and am very unclear on 1. the motivation for such an exercise and 2. the level of stupidity that comes with actually doing this.

Heavy Sigh

An Open Letter to Kris Allen

Kris..hey

I'm really sorry about making fun of your crooked mouth and calling you a mormon robot.

You won me over tonight with your boring charm.

A salute of the Swiffer Duster to you, Sir.

again, really sorry,
Phan

zits...so over it

I'm in a really emo kind of mood. And I just used "emo" as a word. So there you go.

Typically the best blog posts (in my opinion, which is really the only one that matters) seem to come out of when I'm feeling...less than love and sunshine about things.

Welcome to one of those times.

I held it back for as long as I could, but my true and deep-seated (seeded?)exhibitionist personality needs to make it public knowlegde.

***fanfare***

I'm back on Match.com

Some of your reactions are as follows: Good for her! Get back on that horse! (well maybe if you're my 88 year old grandmother, but only after I have to spend an hour screaming at you what the internet is all about)

Others: But! I don't know think...well...I mean...if you think it will help, sure I'll support your decision.

Yet others: Slut!

More others: Rock it, girl. Fuck yah, you DO your thing.

So, to you "more others," thank you! You know, I think maybe this time, something will stick and...I don't know if I don't try and...he's out there somehwere and...you don't want to die alone.

Then I start to think about, in my emo state...

...Idol is on in about 6 minutes. I mean, don't even get me started. I think you ALL KNOW what I will say if you even bring it up. Anoop was robbed, Pianos needs to take his corn teeth and PACK IT UP, and just because you wear a traditional suit, GLAM-BERT, does...not...mean...you are any less gay...

But I digress.

Dating online has once again already proved to be exhausting and not something I really even want to care about right now. Am I really doing this again? And why?

Well, Idol is on...and while I think this show is obscene and disgusting, I bend to its will.

Begin Shame Spiral!

Two words: Jamie Fox?!?!??!

"I think he's on heroin"

I went to my local gym for the first time in a week and a half today, and one of the trainers, who has been consistently trying to get me to do personal sessions with him, struck up a conversation with me.

It went something like this:

Hot Trainer, if he only had a brain:
Hey, haven't seen you in a while. You been slackin' or are we just on different schedules?

Me (on the bike for about 2 minutes, and already short of breath and sweaty):
I've been slacking, for sure.

HT:
When are you gonna take some sessions with me?

Me:
Uhm, I don't know. I'm really lazy and unmotivated. I just come here because it keeps me from getting out of my car during road rage black outs.

HT:
(laughing uncomfortably) Well, it's all about feeling good. I do this job because I love how people feel when they finally get where they want to be, physically. They get out of the shower and look in the mirror when they're naked and say to themselves "Wow, I look great!"

Me:
Uh yeah. I just put my robe on real fast.

HT:
(more uncomfortable laughter)
Well, I used to weigh 104 pounds and I'm up to 211 today. My goal is 230...I feel great! I'm going to Iraq in a few months and I'm going to spend my time there really focusing on my body. And when I get back, I'm going to enter my first body building competition, and I'm going to win.

Me:
(knowing for sure he wants me to ask why he's going to Iraq, but I really don't care)
Wow, good for you, that's awesome. Then you'll be able to tell everyone where the gun show is.

HT:
(real laughter, I think)
Yeah, huh. Something like that.

Me:
(trying to think about what else to talk about, I remember who he was with the last time I saw him in the gym)
Are you training that old guy with the cane?

HT:
Yeah, I am. I think he's on heroin, or maybe Oxy. Something is off about him.

Me:
(struggling to breath and talk at the same time)
Hmm, that's a very big claim you just made. How can you be sure?

HT:
Call it instinct.

(awkward pause)

Alright well, I'll let you get back to your workout. Keep up the good work!

Me:
(various mumbles under my breath how he's so cute, and it's just too bad)

The jugdes save makes me unhappy

Ugh.

I knew last season was the last decent season of Idol. The show has been going down hill for years, getting more and more outrageous and decadent with every passing. The addition of the fourth judge this year, and all these crazy production changes, the producers are obviously desperate to keep this semi good thing going. It's like being on a date with a guy who keeps rubbing and grabbing at you in hopes of coping a boob feel. It makes me feel dirty, and I can't wait for him to leave.

I pray that Snoops will not pull faces during disco week, and I also pray that everyone will stop voting for Mormon Robot. I fall asleep every time he comes across the screen, and not into a restfull sleep, but a violent, alcohol and rage induced sleep.

My hope is that Robot and forehead center zit pianos guy will suck next week and American will agree with me. Fingers crossed.

An open letter to Lady Lambert

Dear Glambert,

I know everyone loves you and thinks you're amazing and you are constantly getting your ass kissed. I know Simon gave you a standing ovation tonight. I know you really love not wearing chapstick, and having super straight hair, not to mention that sick foundation that no one can seem to get the shade right on. I know that you just love to scream until all the dogs in American go deaf. I know that, while I'm not a Moron Robot fan, I actually feel bad that he is so completely in your shadow.

At this point, I've come to the realization that I have to watch you for many weeks to come, as it's clear America, and the producers of Idol, is, and are, smitten.

All I ask is that you stop being SUCH a god damn kiss ass. Really? It makes me throw up in my mouth everytime you mouth "Thank you" so lovingly to the judges and the audience. Just...shhhh.

I love a fabulous gay men who embraces his sexuality just as much as anyone possibly could, but one thing I can't stand is a gay man who rubs his sexuality, and his black fingernails, in my face. I've had enough. Take your costumes and your zip crotch pants and go tell someone who cares.

So I will bide my time and just wait for that homemade movie of you to surface, one where I imagine you are in questional positions with other, eh ehm, ladies.

Sincerely,
Phan

I knew he was smart

College boys are smart.

Good show, Anoop.

Just 10 more weeks, dude. You can do it.

I wonder

Is the magic of Idol gone?

I'm watching Idolatry on EW.com and it's making me think about conspiracies, and also making me bitter that Idol will never be the same again, and hasn't been good for years.

Noooo! AMERICA votes.

Please?

Feeling the need to get defensive

I'm certain it's because of the day of the month.

Gross, I'm sure, and probably too much information for you but I mean, don't say I didn't warn you.

I've had more than a few people give me crap about picking Anoop as my winner in my Idol pool. Now, unless you are in a pool and are actually being asked, 13 weeks out, who YOU think is going to win it all, I don't want to even HEAR your nonsense. Because that means you have no idea of the pressure involved here, or of the DAILY ribbing I receive from several sources because of the FACT that I picked Anoop Desai to win it all.

All you haters can go and fuck yourselves.

What would you prefer?

I pick Ms. Danny-"my tongue is always outside of my mouth and I have a gagillion pairs of glasses that probably aren't even prescription while I milk the fact that I am a widower"-Gokey to win the big prize? Even if that happens, or that is what I think will happen, I cannot even let myself put anywhere down on a written record that I actually endorse such a thing. I would rather lose.

Or would you rather I pick Ms. Adam - "I have gross acne scared skin but I really know how to use my straightening iron while wearing low neck V tee's and could I be ANY GAYER" - Lambert?? HUH? HUUUH???!?!

Or maybe, oh I don't know, Lil Rounds? Would you like me to pick her, even though she's not as good a singer but much nicer to look at than Fantasia would ALREADY WON?

DO YOU WANT THESE THINGS FOR US??

No. I can't do it. I want you to honestly look at that list of what I had to choose from last week and tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing in my shoes. LOOK AT IT!

I'm sorry I told you all to fuck yourselves. Really apologize about that. Anoop is probably going to be voted off this week and I'm visibly upset.

I DID warn you.

Coast to Coast

What is UP?

Today I returned from my nearly two week long trip across these great United States. From California to Massachusetts, I spanned the country with my dearest friend. It was amazing, glorious, hilarious and, well, stirring.

Now I am BACK and ready to talk Idol, bitches!!

As previously mentioned, I am in a pool this year, to bet and win money.

While on the trip, I had to choose my top 8 from season 8. This is the order,counting up from first plact (Number 1 takes it all) to number 8 (the 6th person to be voted off), that I think the contests will be voted off of Idol. (For those not in the know, there were 13 finalists this year):

1 Anoop Desai
2 Danny Gokey
3 Lil Rounds
4 Adam Lambert
5 Scott MacIntyre
6 Allison Iraheta
7 Michael Sarver
8 Alexis Grace

Now, if you're paying attention, you know that last night we went from 13 to 11. You will also know that Anoop, my choice to win it all, was in the bottom two male contestants.

Was I nervous? Yes!! I was planning on sticking a washcloth in my mouth, throwing on a pair of cutoffs, and crying in the shower if Anoop was kicked off. Think of the mortification!?!

However, this does not bode well. The odds are not in my favor for him to win. Very few people ever put in the bottom two go on to win the whole deal. I can't think of any, actually.

Hmph.

Let's hope things go better next week. I wish I had to his phone number so I could tell him to pick a better song, stupid!

two out of three is actually kind of good, right? I take a swim in the Idol Pool.

So I just re read my post from Idol the other night and was pretty impressed to see that I got two out of the three, first set of performing Top 12 performers OR the first three of the Top 12.

Confused? Well that just means you aren't paying attention to things I care about. Shame on you! You need to do that otherwise this shit will not be at all entertaining. Come now.

In my defense, if I had known that one of the three to go through HAD to be a girl (sigh, it makes complete sense now, how could I not have seen this??), I would have picked the girl to be Alexis. If I'm being 100% honest, I really thought Anoop would go through no matter what, Anoop and Danny Gokey, I thought those two were for sure.

At any rate, I'm really feeling good about being able to place high in this Idol pool I've joined. It's very exciting, and I'm kind of getting into trash talking on the board because I've been right about a lot so far. And plus these guys I'm in the pool with are just a bunch of frat head idiots who are trying to mask being obsessed with Idol by pretending it's all about the gambling. PAHleeease. There are so many other more masculine things you can GAMBLE on dudes! Why Idol, hmmm?

Yeah, as I was saying.

Most of the guys who post on the pool board are total pigs. And oh! apparently you can also justify watching Idol as a guy if you talk about how hot the ladies on the show are, or aren't.

Just admit it, dudes! YOU LIKE AMERICAN IDOL. Just accept it so we can all stop pretending. It's so annoying for the rest of us.

Idol, Live Again

So for a while, I didn't have a computer at home. But that only explains some of the reason why you haven't heard from me in over a month.

To be honest, things are really good and I didn't have anything to whine about. And my blog is mostly about whining and complaining. Let's be honest.

All that changes right now. Nothing can get me worked up quite like Idol.

The format is all different this year and it's really messing up my flow. Also, I've joined a pool this year. I don't usually gamble, but if there is one thing I will gamble on, it's Idol.

The format is all f-ed up, and you can totally tell from this first live show. No one knows what the hell is going on and everyone is running into each other. Tapes aren't running, what a hot mess. It's almost refreshing to see that they don't have their shit together, but unsettling at the same time.

The run down:

Jackie: I liked Jackie, I really did. But we know you're a goof ball, so how about you sing for us?

Ricky: Super talented, totally forgettable.

Alexis: You're good, but America will not understand young child + pink hair.

Brent: Ugh, shut up. No one cares that you want to be a country star.

Stevie: Tragic, tragic performance. Ugh I actually feel bad for her.

Anoop: WTF, man?? Why did you pick such a LAME song? I'll vote for you because I know you are soooo much better. Simon is even pissed. I know it!

Casey: I work at a tea shop and have hair extensions. Don't try to sing Sting, little girl. It will bite you every time. Put a fork in it!! SHE'S DONE.

Michael Sarver: I've loved this guy from the beginning. He's one of my early picks. I don't like his shirt.

Ann Marie: I'm very uninspired. You can see in her eyes that she knows she's done.

Steve Fowler: I'm not sure he deserved a second chance. What is up with these song choices!??! holy crap awfulness.

Tatiana: She can sing, but she's such a mess on a personal level. She'll make a fantastic telenovela star, though. That is really what she should do. I'll write her a letter.

Danny Gokey: Dead wife guy!! I'm not sure why he sang Maria Carey, but it worked in parts. I just hope he doesn't peek too early, Archuleta style.

Three will make it.

My hope: Anoop, Michael Sarver, Danny Gokey.

*fingers crossed*

Idol is back bwaaaaaaaaaah!

Yep, it's true. It's already that time of year again.

I have yet to form my feelings on Idol this year, but I did join a pool. The new Judge seems sassy and smart so perhaps that will hold my interest...

Who am I kidding? I'll be obsessed as always.

Anyway, it's too early to report on much. These first couple weeks are for all the people who watch Idol for the bad singers. I'm in it for the quality, obviously.

So

The holidays weren't *too* bad (see post before last). But then, the day after New Year's day, my office was flooded and I haven't been handling the aftermath too well. In fact, I haven't handled much well in the last 11 days, and it's quite unsettling.

What's funny about this is that I should be able to take my own advice here. And here's why: Not too long ago, I told a dear friend who had just come through a difficult crisis not to beat herself up so much. This was after she told me she didn't think she handled it as well as she could have.

As is typical, I am incapable of taking my own advice.

I am uncomfortable not being stable rock. Quite uncomfortable.

Dreams squandered, hopes dashed

Sigh.

My ideas about Super Amazing Hot gym guy were right. I heard him speaking Spanish tonight (I think) while pouring over what I can only assume is a new iPhone. Every single person at work has one, so I know for sure what they look like. (But really because of Donald, duh)

Anyway, homebody had just received a "tess messig" (there is apparently no Spanish (again, not sure) for text message) and couldn't for the life of him figure out how to read it or reply to it or do anything with it. For about 20 minutes. I enjoyed all of his other beefy, spanish-ish speaking friends crowding around him and trying to help him figure it out.

I smiled.

And then went to my car and hung my head low (with shame) on their behalf.

Confessions of a 28th Holiday Season

The following short list of things occurred to me recently as things that I would never have thought I would find myself thinking. Well, maybe not ever. But these are still some long shots. If any of them make you throw up in your mouth a little, with shame-sympathy on my behalf, I apologize well in advance. These confessions are a big step for me, so please be kind. So kind. Shhhh.


Here we go:

I'm really hoping that Britney's new CD is a hit. I bought it, a REAL CD. I can't help but root for her. Shit!

The trailer to Marley & Me has made me tear up, multiple times. Crap!

Exercise really does make me feel better. Sigh.

I love my job. Seriously!

I don't so much mind the frozen tundra. Oh cruel world!

I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year. Ahhh!

And the Ultimate Confession: I'm pretty fucking happy.*



*I know I know. Don't remind me (too much) or this blog is really going downhill fast.

the most wonderful time of the year

First, work explodes into a high intensity stress fest.

Then, my exam gets rescheduled.

Later, work gets trickier and The Mayor and I shit can Big Red (I haven't even had time to revel in the glory that is my very own office!).

Meanwhile...I'm trying to christmas shop, attend various festivities, not piss anyone off by being super busy all the time AND get my beauty sleep.

It IS so hard being me.

Things has gotten away from me a bit and I readily admit that. I think the fact that I DVR programs for the specific purpose of having the TV on the background while I'm doing other things (dishes, present wrapping, blog writing) speaks volumes. Yes. I record specific programs for this reason.

Other signs that something important is about to slip through the cracks:
*Dinners of Skinny Cows and wheat thins
*A 25% full DVR, mostly containing re runs of Bridezillas that I can't bring myself to delete
*Not having even looked at the materials for my exam since I found out it's now in January
*The inability to make simple decisions: What flavor of yogurt DO I want?
*A serious lack of attention to Gchat AND my facebook status
*The fact that I now change the sheets on my bed every two weeks instead of every one week
*An ambivalent attitude toward my credit balance at all times
*The serious and long consideration of the following topic: I can do all of my christmas shopping at Newbury Comics, right?

I wouldn't say I am spinning out of control or about to start taking NoDoze to keep up with my busy schedule (Please, I still manage to squeeze in 8 hours plus a night. A woman has her limits.) but I would say that I spend substantially less time in my lounging clothes in this month of December.

Now that is the true tragedy.

An open letter to Big Red

Dear Big Red,

Because I cannot actually go completely ape on you about all the little things that drive me crazy about you because it's completely unprofessional AND because I do need you to help me in certain ways, I've decided to itemize them here, in hopes that it will ease some of the desire I have to simultaneously punch you in the throat and knee you in the balls.

1. Do not speak to me unless I ask you a direct question. If you have a question for me that is work related (and work related only), you may raise your hand to get my attention.
2. Do not put your feet up on your desk.
3. Do not sit with your legs open.
4. Try, just please try, NOT to sound like a douche every time you get on the phone.
5. Do not look at me.
6. Do not give me creepy, back handed compliments about my clothing, hair, or any other part of my appearance.
7. Do not talk to me about your girlfriend.
8. Related to number 7, do not talk to me about your personal life unless I ask you a direct question (refer to number 1).
9. Do not speak in a passive aggressive tone to potential future employees of our company. I know this is a hard one for you. I've talked to you about it, and you still seem to think it necessary, so it must be really hard if I haven't been able to get through your thick, fire crotch skull yet.
10. Related to number 9, do not patronize potential future employees. It makes you sound like a real asshole.

Thank you for your time and consideration. If you have any questions about the above itemized list, please refer to direction number 1.

Sincerely,
S

A post for KB

My weekends lately have been quite hermit-like. This isn't because I've given up on life or am turning into some crazy shut-in. I just need some special alone time. To stay sane.

I should be using this time to study for my upcoming exam. And I have, a little bit. Admittedly, not as much as I should. But that isn't the point of this entry.

Because of my existence, particularly this weekend, I've started to watch Bridezillas on We.

Have you SEEN this shit?

This bitches are craaaazy and need to be medicated. I cannot believe that adult women act like spoiled six year olds and then think it's appropriate to display this behavior, for all to see, on television. Horrific.

In this particular episode, one bride receives her veil, decides she hates it and proceeds to rip it to shreds with her own hands. The other bride (yes, they manage to squeeze in two per hour long episode) is nowhere near as terrible of a person, but it still pretty horrible. She's already told off her mother-in-law, who was trying to convince her NOT to put rhinestones in her bouquet. How does said bride think that rhinestones in her flowers is a good idea?

Both of these women are ugly on the inside and out. Maybe if you weren't so nasty, you would have better skin, shinier hair, and no horrible black bags under your eyes. And the mothers of these nasty ass hoes are revealing of the fact that these apples don't fall too far from the tree.

I may not understand the stress a bride is under, but I cannot imagine that these women are that much different in their regular lives. Yikes.

To my future fiance, should he be out there somewhere, we are so totally eloping.

Horrible, horrible people.

And I can't stop watching them.

Does that make me just as horrible?

Nah. I think it just means I love me some shitty reality television.

Paintballing: It hurts SO good

Friday was our company paintballing activity. I had never been and, when asking my new co workers how I should prepare, their only response was "Wear lots of layers."

On Thursday night, when learning that I had never been, two of my new co workers widened their eyes and said "You are going to be SO sore all weekend." My response: "Really? Sore from WHAT? I work out all the time [lies!] so I'll be fine." They just laughed at me. Silly, silly new HR Manager girl!

Now a full 48 hours after the fact, I can barely get up and down my stairs without wincing. This is unfortunate because my humble abode is in fact two floors. Getting up and down off the toilet is also very painful and pathetic.

The problem? It's two fold: Crouching and Squatting.

Now, unless you're Jason Varitek or some other major league catcher, you don't often find yourself crouching OR squatting for extended periods of time. And if you are perchance doing either of these actions, it it very rarely for minutes on end.

For those of you who have never played paintball, getting hit by one of those little fuckers HURTS. I don't care how tough you are or pretend to be, because I'm pretty god damn tough. I had three layers on top and one on bottom. In hindsight, this was no where near enough. In order to avoid getting nailed by a paintball, you spend most of your time either running while also crouched over, or just squatting behind some sort of barrier to avoid the hail of little plastic balls filled with water based paint.

A fair number of the guys have their own equipment and play frequently. Two of them brought specialty rapid fire guns. One of the those guys was on my team, although he did nail me at one point in friendly fire. To his credit, he didn't know it was me. The other guy was Big Red. And since I very much believe in karma, I wasn't so shocked to hear that Big Red sprained his ankle during his last game (he then had to leave early). Everyone together now! AWWWW.

We played five games. In the last game, I was hit so hard (IN THE BACK!!) that I started to cry and had to leave the game. I felt like the BIGGEST asshole, but felt much better after I learned I was the third person to leave the game BUT the first lady. ha HA!

I think I gained a certain level of respect with some of the guys. At least I hope I did. Even if not, it was the most fun involving extreme (for me) physical activity that I've had like, ever.

TMI: A Fair Warning

I'm about to overshare. I've obviously been spending too much time with Big Red.

So here goes...

I have my period.

It's either that, or my sex drive is finally returning after an eight month hiatus.

No...it's because I have my period.

For the past month or so, maybe more (I've lost track of time in general), I've been scoping out a SEXY ASS at the gym. This guy is delicious. Y-U-M-M-Y.

My attraction reached a frothy peak this evening.

Why this particular muscle man, you ask?

He has a perfect body, but doesn't flaunt it, works out for what I am sure is hours (I never stay that long), but doesn't grunt, groan or stand around with his buddies with his hand down his pants, making sure every woman in a 100 foot radius knows how big he thinks his dick is. He quietly strains. He subtly struts. He smolders.

My beautiful, beautiful man.

I'm pretty sure I caught him looking at me tonight. But he could have totally been looking at the female trainer who was doing some come hither maneuver on the yoga ball next to me. Bitch!

Yummy and I have made brief eye contact a few times (OK...exactly twice), but I'm scared of him he's so beautiful. The words "Hello I think you're yummy wanna bang?" don't so much roll off the tongue lately. Or ever.

And how can I flirt at the gym? Especially after cardio. The dark, sweaty circles under my boobs cannot be sexy. Match that with the afro that my hair turns into after sweating my ass off for 30-40 minutes, the abundant ass crack/flop sweat, and the mascara running down my face. Not cute.

So I will continue to watch him glisten from a distance and hope he doesn't catch me staring at him while he's doing his squat thrusts. mmmm HMMMM.