Archive forOctober, 2006

Halloween is playing tricks on my patience

I tried to write out the details of my day, but it came out sounding like something a failing high schooler on drugs would turn in as a short story in their creative writing class. Meaning it was a mess and not worth publishing. Instead I’ll just say it hasn’t been a great day, but I’m in a suprisingly not-awful mood. Here are the highlights, let your imagination fill in the details:

  • Migraine headache, my first, now on its fifth consecutive day
  • Essentially no sleep last night
  • Prescriptions for two drugs
  • Appointment for CT scan of head
  • Car won’t start
  • Stranded in doctor’s office parking lot
  • Brad in class; nobody else answering phone
  • Cold walk back to the apartment (or 2/3 before Brad called and rescued me)
  • Definitely not wearing walking shoes
  • Tow truck
  • Migraine worse after taking meds
  • $5 gift certificate to bookstore won in Halloween raffle at work (that’s the bright light in my day since I never win anything!)

I’m tired, I’m hurting, I’m carless, and I’m about to be penniless. But damn it, I’m putting on my cat ears and I’m passing out candy tonight! I’ll figure out the fatigue, the migraine, the car and the money stuff later.

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A few things to keep you in the know

I guess I’m already practicing for next month’s mission to write every day. This is what you call a filler post. Something that you write when your head hurts too much to remember anything funny or interesting, but it’s been a few days since you posted anything so you feel obligated to give people something to read. Even if that something is just a short list of updates about your blog, things they could easily figure out on their own if they have eyes and a mouse, but things you, nonetheless, feel like putting a numbered list for easy access. So here it is, the list:

1. I’m officially participating in NaBloPoMo, the National Blog Posting Month, wherein I force myself to write something, anything, every day in November. See the button on the right for proof and verification. Also, click it for more information. You know you want to participate!

2. The thatsbs flickr page is undergoing some changes. There’s a link for that on the right too, go ahead and look. We’re making the majority of our pictures Friends and Family Only, so all you people without an account aren’t getting spoiled anymore. If you want to see Brad and I at our funniest, craziest and ugliest, you’re going to have to get an account. All I’m saying is you’re seriously missing out if you don’t sign up for flickr and join the party.

3. Brad created a new Books page for me. Again, the column on the right holds many glorious things, including a Books link. I’m ever so slowly working on making it a comprehensive list of books I’ve read, books I own, books I want to read, books I’ve reviewed, books I love and books I hate. So far you only really get the books I’ve read in the last 10 months and a few reviews. It’s a work in progress, give me a break. But books are something that I love, and because you’re such faithful and wonderful Doahleigh readers, I want to share that love with you. Check it out, and keep checking it out because it’ll only get better!

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My Friend Leonard

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Oh sleep! It is a gentle thing.*

My sister (A) is a little crazy when she sleeps. She grinds her teeth down to nubs and often mumbles long litanies of nonsense. One night, when we were in high school, she sleep-walked to my room and frantically sleep-pounded on my door, sleep-jiggling the door handle, trying to sleep-break-in. Sounding much like the rapists, murderers and predators of my nightmares, scaring the shit out of me. I hated her for days!

Another sister (E) likes to cuddle in her sleep. She presses up against you, throws her leg over yours, wraps her arm around your chest, maybe even attempts to fondle your breasts. I think once she even tried to make out with me in her sleep.

I, however, am a very normal sleeper. Aside from the occassional moan, I’m pretty peaceful. No snoring, talking, walking, grinding, cuddling, fondling. When I sleep, I’m quiet and restful. But in the name of complete disclosure, I will say that my sleep? It is very fragile. Seriously, do not mess with it! A lesson Brad has learned the hard way many times over.

When I’m trying to sleep, sleeping or just waking up…don’t you dare touch me, talk to me, or in any way disturb me. Frankly, I’m a raging bitch when my sleep is tampered with.

Case in point: Last night, a couple hours after we fell asleep, Brad noticed that the power had flicked off and on and my alarm clock was now blinking 12:12am. He was only trying to be helpful, bless his innocent soul, when he woke me up to let me know. I, however, did not see it that way at all.

Honey your alarm clock is flashing. Do you want to reset it?

What no leave me alone I don’t care.

But you need to reset your alarm.

I’M TRYING TO SLEEP! GREAT NOW I’M WIDE AWAKE AND I WON’T BE ABLE TO FALL BACK ASLEEP! GOD!

I’m sorry…

YOU’RE SO ANNOYING! WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST DO IT FOR ME INSTEAD OF WAKING ME UP? I’M SO TIRED AND I’M TRYING TO SLEEP! AND NOW I’M AWAKE!

Then I reset the alarm and fell back asleep.

He reminded me of all this over cereal this morning. Remember when you called me annoying and yelled and were so mean to me last night? I had to laugh because it’s all so ridiculous. Sometimes I don’t even remember what I said or how awful I’d been, but in the morning I always realize how unnecessary it all was.

Yet I can’t help it. I’m sorry. Don’t. Mess. With. My. Sleep! It’s fragile.

*Samuel Taylor Coleride

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Another fabulous fashion statement

While B and I were getting ready to head out for a bit last night, I reached around him to grab my purse. He paused and looked at me skeptically.

Him: So… are you all ready?
Me: Yeah, are you?
Him: Yeah. Um, so where exactly are we going?
Me: To the store and probably to grab something to eat.
Him: [after a pause] Oh, so um, is that what you’re wearing then?
Me:[looking down at my bright green pajama pants and 10-year old red t-shirt] Yes.
Him: But isn’t it pajamas?
Me: Yes.

I thought after this long he’d be used to the idea that I put very little effort into my appearance unless absolutely necessary. I wear my pajamas in public all the time. As a matter of fact I think I wore the exact same outfit to run errands with him one evening earlier this week.

Perhaps it was the wet hair, no makeup, glasses and the fact that my white bra could be seen through my worn down t-shirt that put him over the edge.

But I have to give him credit. After I said yes, he didn’t bat an eye. And didn’t act even a little bit embarrassed to be seen with me.

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A serious waste of brain activity

Yesterday somebody asked me what I like to watch on tv. Um… yeah.

I thought fast to come up with something I watch that isn’t completely laughable, a show that isn’t totally mindless, maybe even a little bit respectable.

“The Office?” I offered. “Oh yeah, I love that show.” Phew, embarrassment averted.

And that’s when I realized my tv problem. I don’t have one or two shows that I must watch every week or I’ll tear my hair from my scalp. But I watch A LOT of tv, and none of it is really good.

It all started when I began some craft projects I’m working on. They’re the kinds of projects that you can curl up with in front of the tv, which means that I can half-watch a lot of crap. Every night that I’m able, I grab my project, curl up, and flip on the tube (god I hate that word). As a result, I’ve found myself a little bit obsessed with a variety of shows.

Again, none of these are so important to me that I need to buy Tivo or, god forbid, use the old tape and VCR method. I can stand to miss an episode of anything, and usually I don’t even notice. But despite my preference for a good book over any television, I’ve found myself very familiar with the happenings on a lot of poor programming*:

The Gilmore Girls
Deal or No Deal
The Bachelor Rome

What About Brian?
Dancing with the Stars
The Office
Grey’s Anatomy
Desperate Housewives

America’s Next Top Model (link not working)

And any of the random things they play on ABC Family, TNT, TBS and even HGTV. Yeah. I know. Pretty pathetic right? I mean if I loved these shows I could be like a tv guru, even be proud of everything I manage to follow along with. But instead, it’s just noise and color that flood my brain while I’m doing a quiet, passive project. It’s junk. Filling my brain. And I like it.

Yes I like it. I like watching crappy television. Lots and lots of crappy television. As long as my hands are busy doing something.

*Okay not all of it’s bad. I actually really like The Office and Gilmore Girls. But the rest I watch and enjoy just because I’m pathetic.

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My first professional massage: a helpful guide to other first-timers

Remember that gift certificate Brad gave me back at Christmas? The one for a professional massage? The one I was too unsure about protocol to use? Remember?

Well I did it! I used it, and not only was the massage wonderful, but it wasn’t so scary after all. I decided I’m just going to spell it out, step by step, for anyone else who doesn’t know what the hell to do at their first professional massage. Even though I found a few sites that helped me prepare, I still had a lot of questions that I’ll hopefully answer here:

1. Call in advance, but not too far in advance. I scheduled my appointment over two weeks ahead because I knew if I didn’t get something on the books, I’d never go. But the receptionist chuckled a little at my forthought. I’d say at most places, a week is plenty of notice.

2. When you get there you’ll have to fill out a short form. Be prepared to note any specific aches or pains you have. And how many months pregnant you are. Which I’m not.

3. Someone will take you to the massage room, and don’t worry, they’ll tell you exactly what to do! Most likely they’ll ask if this is your first massage and then instruct you what to remove, where to lay, what to do.

4. But just in case… If it’s an upper body massage you can leave your pants on if you’d like. Otherwise, strip down to your skivvies, which I recommend. It’s much more comfortable that way. Girls, take those bras off! Don’t worry, the massage therapist leaves the room for all this.

5. Hang your clothes on the hooks or set them on the chair or bench provided. You’ll have plenty of time to undress and get under the covers before anyone returns, so no need to rush. Like I did.

6. The bed will be covered in a fitted sheet. I was anticipating a little towel to throw over my derrier, but the bed actually had a top sheet and blanket as well. Crawl underneath those, like you’re going to bed, and face down. You may have to lay there a few minutes while you wait for the massage therapist to give you plenty of time, so you’ll get to know the carpet pattern very well.

7. The girl who did my massage was extremely nice. We really hit it off actually and chatted the whole time. But if you don’t like to talk, maybe try grunting short responses until they get the point. I don’t know, it might work.

8. About halfway through you’ll flip over (it will depend on the type of massage you get) and you might accidentally flash the masseuse. Don’t worry, they probably see boobs all the time!

9. If they start pulling on your hair, it’s totally normal. It’s all strategic, and it actually feels really good!

10. When the massage is done, there will be an awkward moment where you’re laying on your back, unsure what to do with your hands, trying to roll over enough to see the masseuse without flashing her again, while she talks to you about drinking plenty of water and how well your skin is moisturized.

11. After she leaves, simply get dressed, gather your things and dig out an appropriate tip. I gave a little over 20% since we practically became friends in that short half hour.

12. I had to walk out into a room full of people (it was also a crowded salon), and try to find a subtle way to hand over my tip. She even tried to refuse it, and then I was really confused. Am I not supposed to tip? But I insisted and she accepted. So yes, you are supposed to tip unless they adamantly tell you otherwise.

13. Then she gave me a hug before I left. But I think that’s because we hit it off so well, not because of the tip. You don’t have to hug your masseuse (or masseur). Actually most would probably think you were weird.

And there it is. My first professional massage. My back hurt again the next day, but for that 30 minutes, I was feeling pretty damn good. Next time, I want an hour.

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Nothing like an awkward transition

Last night in bed, we had the following conversation:

S: So I’m thinking about partcipating in NaBloPoMo, which means I’ll have to write on Doahleigh every day in November.
B: Oh really? That’s a lot.
S: Yeah, but it’ll be good for me.
B: Do you think people think you’re a lesbian?
S: …
S: Um…no?

Turns out he was referring to my new Marriage Is Love bar at the bottom of this website (scroll all the way down). Nope, I support gay marriage, but I’m not a lesbian. Which I’m pretty sure everyone can tell by how often I write about Brad. Which I’ll continue to do. Every single day of November!

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Halloween

All I have to say is… Next year, I’m so doing geometric shapes:

I was trying to create Mario using nothing but an oversized and very malleable pumpkin carver. I was fine until I got to his eyes. The left one broke and the right completely caved in. So I quit.

We were going to do Mario and Bowser, but instead we got Brad’s expertly crafted villian and my rather Donald Duck looking thing.

Brad got upset with me for being a quitter, but I think every girl is allowed to quit a project with dignity before she chucks the whole thing out the second-story window.

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Across the hall

Just like there’s a taboo against writing about work online, I’m sure there’s some kind of rules regarding your neighbors as blog topics. But I’m willing to take a chance on this one. I’m going to bet that the lady across the hall won’t stumble upon this site, and if she does, hopefully it’s after we’ve moved out.

To Brad and I, she’s come to be known as TV Lady. When she watches TV, she turns the volume up loud enough for the people across the street to easily listen in. Sometimes I swear she puts the television right behind her front door so Brad and I will know what she’s watching. I’ve considered making popcorn and setting up chairs in the hall to listen to TV Lady’s favorite programs with her.

Mostly it was just funny, TV Lady and her far-too-loud TV. But then she got bitchy.

When I was in Phoenix recently, Brad called to tell me that TV Lady had stopped him in the hall to not very kindly ask him to “refrain from slamming the outside door.” Apparently her hearing isn’t as bad as the loud television would suggest because the closing of the building’s entrance door is too much for her.

We don’t slam the door. The door is heavy and gravity (or whatever) causes heavy doors to make noise sometimes. However, since the reprimand, we’ve been more careful and try not to make more than a peep whenever we go in or out. Not enough apparently.

The other day we left the apartment at about 8:30pm. I’m not sure how loud the door was when it closed behind us, but it certainly wasn’t slammed. However, as we were backing out of our carport, we saw TV Lady walk out of the building. She had her arms irritably crossed and her face set firmly in a distraught grimace. She glared at our car, double-checking which carport we left from, ensuring that yes, it is those rotten kids from across the hall who live in sin and slam doors all day long!

She actually took the time to grab her keys, put on her shoes, and walk outside to see who the scoundrels were. The wretched, inconsiderate people who would dare slam the door when she’s trying to listen to her TV shows at ear-bleeding volumes!

Oh and it’s not just us. The woman who lives above her asked Brad if “that lady” yells at us too. Apparently TV Lady not only has a problem with the sound of closing doors, but she also doesn’t like how loudly the petite woman upstairs pads around her apartment.

Everyone just keep it down okay! TV Lady is trying to watch the local news and she can’t hear a damn thing!*

*Oh man, I hope she’s not deaf or something. How horrible would that make me?

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Not really craving the carving

We’re carving pumpkins tonight with B’s parents, and I’m not feeling very inspired. In the past I’ve always done simple faces: triangle eyes, circle nose, missing-tooth smile. Or something equally uncomplicated. And last year I did a pirate skull, which was a little more challenging, but not as awesome as Brad’s Dean Martin.

Anyway, this year I’m just not feeling it. I don’t want to put much effort into anything very intricate, but I can’t go back to the same ol’ geometrically-shaped face. So right now I’m leaning toward the grim reaper:

grimreaper.gif

See his easily carved shapes and lines? I don’t know, mostly I’m just not really in the mood to stick my hand inside a gunky pumpkin. Hopefully the halloween spirit hits before we head over to his parents’ house though. I don’t think anyone will like me if I decide I’d rather smash my pumpkin in the road than carve it!

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Step away from the tweezers

Help! I have what they call a bit of a tweezing problem: I can’t stop plucking my eyebrows!

For many years in middle and high school I essentially had two bushes living above my eyes, and I had no idea. This is back when I wore pasty coral lipstick and ineffective brown eyeliner, so you can imagine. Then one day I finally noticed my fuzzy caterpillar problem and took action. I haven’t gone more than a week without a good tweeze since.

It was a slow process over many years that whittled my eyebrows down to the tiny brush strokes they are now. At one point I actually had very shapely brows that received more compliments than any of my other facial features. As recently as six months ago I’d gotten the question, “Who does your eyebrows?” to which I always proudly answered, “Me.”

However, in the last few months it’s gotten out of control. I truly enjoy the process of plucking eyebrows (I do Brad’s whenever he lets me), so when I get out my tweezers and magnified mirror, I can hardly help myself. Suddenly I’m pulling out hairs for all the wrong reasons. Oh that one is a different shade of brown. This one’s too long. Too short. Too straight.

I realized it was out of control when I tried to tweeze my eyebrows one morning and there were no stray hairs, I had conquered them all, and it made me mad. I knew my tweezing had become about something more than just creating shapely brows, and it needed to stop.

So I tried to quit for awhile. I heard the best way to reshape eyebrows is to let them grow out and start all over again. I put the down the tweezers and my magnified mirror, and I was prepared to do that. Except they didn’t grow. I waited and waited and all I got were 10-15 stray hairs that showed up way above or below the eyebrow. Nothing that was helping the process even a little.

There was one hair that grew in at the inside edge of my right brow, but it faced the opposite direction of the rest of the hairs! I let it go for a few weeks, hoping the brow would fill in around it, but nothing ever happened. How long does it take you stupid eyebrows just grow already! Finally I gave in. I grabbed the tweezers and ripped that sucker from my face. Along with the 10-15 other strays. And I was back where I started.

So I’m at a loss. How does one resurrect a shapely brow? How does one save eyebrows that have gone wrong? My eyebrows are still decent, it’s not like I’m walking around with a bare forehead (see this picture for evidence). But I’d like to have more to work with.

But how? How do I start over again, short of going two years without tweezing? I’m thinking after being ripped from their follicles so many times, the hairs might just give up the fight and stop growing back. Am I stuck with my over-plucked eyebrows forever?

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A Wrinkle In Time

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The Curious Incident of the Dog in Night-time

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Sharing Sean

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