Damn...

I make a killer Cosmo.

It's been awhile since I've made them. I'd forgotten how yummy they are.

And how strong they are.

Especially since my martini glasses are twice the size of what's used in most bars.

Yow.

I'm BUI! Blogging Under the Influence.*

Hey, thanks, y'all, for the suggestions for alleviating the sleep deprivation. I appreciate that. Really.


(man, it's hard to type in this condition!! i originally wrote "sugestings" up there.)


Happy Friday!

*proper credit for that phrase goes to the lovely Angela.

To sleep, perchance to dream...

I think I have a sleep disorder.
Is it possible to have a sleep disorder that's only evident on weeknights?

Sometimes I have a really hard time getting to sleep, even when I'm really tired.
And it's rare for me to sleep through the night without waking several times. I don't mean waking for just a moment and rolling over; I wake up enough to be aware that I'm awake.
And lately, I've been making a point to take a look at the clock to see if there's a pattern, to see if perhaps there's something going on outside on a regular basis that's waking me.

So, yeah, I've been waking up at about the same times each night...but I'm no closer to establishing what it is that's waking me.
And even if I do, I don't think there's anything I can do about it. I'm a light sleeper, with a few notable exceptions.
Then getting back to sleep is a challenge, but I've been working really hard to get my mind to shut the hell up in the middle of the night. Sometimes, it works. Often, it doesn't.

Maybe it's all just a function of age. By nature, I'm a night owl and a late sleeper. But for the past 15 years, I've had to be at work at a very early hour (for many years, my work day started at 3 a.m... now, it's 7 a.m.) so I've been fighting my own circadian rhythms for a long, long time.
In recent years, I've noticed that I even have trouble sleeping in the way I used to. I often wake up around 9 on weekends, whether I want to or not. No matter how late I was up the night before. And I hate that.

And it's really going to suck to "spring forward" this weekend. I know, it's only an hour... but DAMN. It's a weekend hour! I hate that!

(stop it with that smug laugh, dzer!!)

Hey, look!

IT'S RAINING AGAIN.

Okay, we did have a few hours of sunshine late in the afternoon yesterday, but still.

And there's a story in the paper today which points out that we had nearly three dry weeks in February, but I think I was sick for most of that, so I don't even remember it.

Honestly, I will write about something else soon. But one more day of rain will set a new record here -- right now, we're at 23 for 31. As in, 23 days in which we've had measurable rain this month.

Spring, my ass...

Oh, goody...

It's raining again.

We're about to break a record here in the Bay Area, for the rainiest March ever. EVER. So it's not just my imagination.
Looking forward to another moist commute home.

(I hate the word moist. I use it here to demonstrate how irritated I am.)

Click here for a most excellent haiku about the rain.

Also irritating? Someone stole the toothpaste I keep in my drawer at work. If I could identify the culprit, I'd go breathe on them so they could experience my nasty-ass post-coffee, post-lunch, breath.
Is nothing sacred, people?

And on a serious note, please keep a good thought in your head and heart for my neighbor Tim, who got hauled off to the emergency room by ambulance last night. He ended up in the ER a few weeks ago with chest pains, and in the ensuing testing, doctors found a tumor on his adrenal gland. Surgery was scheduled for this Wednesday, but he was feeling so terrible yesterday -- and having more terrible chest pains -- so his wife called 911.

As he was being wheeled out by the paramedics, all pale and weak, he calls out to his wife, "Honey, I'll be right back," in an effort to comfort HER.

Broke. My. Heart.

Hoping he will be back soon.

I love surprises!

And I got a great one on Friday, when I heard from my friend Anne, aka Guppy, who was on her way to the Bay Area from LA to visit with her nieces Stacy and Michelle, who are disturbingly hot blonde 20-somethings. (Actually, it's disturbing that they're 20-somethings, because that makes me feel really.... really... OLD.) Michelle lives on the Peninsula and is about to move into the city, and it's so cute that she's so excited about it. I'm excited for her.

So yesterday, we were joined by Michelle's boyfriend for lunch here, and our timing was perfect, as the rain had stopped and the sun was shining...and we even got a great window table. And the sun was so bright that we were forced to drop the window shade a bit, because it was blindingly bright and poor Stacy was baking. Trust me, that doesn't happen all that often on the beach in SF! And certainly not lately, with all the friggin' rain we've had.

Then we spent some time watching the bison in Golden Gate Park and hiking around different areas -- most of them uphill, I might add -- and communing with nature. We capped off the day with a coffee stop here and more laughs.

It was a blast. And so much better than my original plan for the day, which was to sit on my ass and watch a bunch of bad television.

I see this in my future... my very near future...

Need I say more?

It's unfortunate that I can't have this now. But since I'm at work and all... well, that would be wrong.

Wouldn't it?

Oh, and? It's raining again.

Laundry rant # 706...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm writing about laundry again.
Listen, laundry's a big pain in my ass. Especially with all the spilling of food and beverages on my clothing.

So this evening, I drag all my shit over to the laundromat to find several new washing machines there. Cool.

Except they're more expensive than the old ones. 50 cents more per load.
And these machines are no larger than the old ones.
Okay, I tell myself, the owner's got to recoup his costs. I get that.

Except he also raised prices on all the old machines, by a quarter per load.
That shit ain't right.

Interesting, too, that when he raised prices during our faux energy crisis a few years back, he never reduced them when energy costs dipped back down a bit.
I get the whole "charging what the market will bear" shit...but CRAP. This is getting out of hand.


Oh, and? Doing laundry when you're sleep deprived isn't such a great idea. I managed to leave about half of my whites at home, in the hamper. I just plum forgot about them. I must have gotten distracted by something shiny while sorting.
Fer crying out loud.

Bring on Friday!

*Okay, what is with that insane lady in that drawing? She looks so happy while doing her laundry. I want whatever drugs she's on.

Maybe I should just wear a uniform...

Why is it that every time I wear something sorta nice to work that I plan to keep wearing for an evening outing... I IMMEDIATELY start spilling shit all over it?

First, a little half-and-half on my shrug.

Next... some water on my shrug. Okay, no biggie there.

Then... a little half-and-half on my pants. My new black pants.

A few moments ago, my rice cake (well, really, it's a corn cake, but you don't know what the hell that is, so I went with the generic term... like kleenex) with peanut butter on top crumbled, sending a large shard -- peanut butter side down -- onto my tank top.

I'm afraid to eat my lunch.

Perhaps I should rename my blog Klutz-o-Rama...

I could never color inside the lines, either...

I'm wearing my favorite sweater today. (Yes, I know it's spring, but it sure doesn't feel like it. )

It's black, with a V-neck, and a faux-fur collar. Really cute. I love it, and not just because I got it for $17, during a mega day-after-Thanksgiving sale, though I DO love an amazing bargain, as you know.

That faux-fur collar is detachable, so you can wash the sweater without wrecking the collar, or spending money on dry cleaning.

Here's the problem: it takes forever to get the collar off, and even longer to get it back on. There are 15 small buttons you have to match up with 15 even smaller loops. It's a big pain in the ass, frankly, using my big fingers and big fingernails to get those small buttons through those small loops.

Once, I got down to the second-to-last button when I realized I'd skipped a loop... and had to start over almost at the beginning.

Last night, I got through all 15 loops when I realized I'd attached the collar UPSIDE DOWN. For a few minutes, I seriously contemplated just wearing it that way, but even I'm not that much of a dork.

I'd better get a compliment today, after all the effort I put into wearing this sweater...

UPDATED, 12:30pm: I did, indeed, just get a genuine compliment from someone who knew nothing of my wardrobe trials and tribulations. Whew.

Monday already??

Where did the weekend go?? Seems like I was just leaving work to start my weekend...

And usually, when I have a busy weekend, it feels longer... but not this time. Dammit.

Saturday, I went to a very fun bridal shower, where we competed to see who could put a condom on a cucumber the fastest, while blindfolded and using just one hand.
Yeah. I ran the clock out, I took so long.
But my excuse is that I go for quality, not speed.
Yeah. Are you buying that?

Yesterday, I got to watch the San Jose Sharks beat the Colorado Avalanche, but just barely. It was a good game, with excitement until the final seconds. No fights, though. Damn. I haven't ever gotten to witness a good hockey fight in person. I keep hoping.

And now I have that friggin' "Rock and Roll Part II" stuck in my head, since they play it every time the Sharks score a goal.

Oh, the best part of the weekend? It was gloriously sunny both days.
And now, the rain is back. Somehow, that seems appropriate...even though this is the first day of Spring...

WTF??

Seriously... I have no idea what the hell is wrong with Blogger these days. I don't know why my page is showing up all white, with all the sidebar stuff at the bottom.

I didn't do it!

Nor did I pull the plug to make it impossible to even see the damn thing.

Technology. Pheh.

Sigh....

My job is better on some days than others. Today, for example.
Fabulous!

Esai Morales could not be more charming. Not to mention, hot.

I even got a little kiss on the hand when I walked him out.

Made this rough day a lot more tolerable, believe me.

?????

Why am I able to view everyone else's blog...but my own??
I keep getting that error message about my credentials.
I don't need no stinking credentials...!!!

Hello, Blogger! Let me see!

Really, really, random...

Why is it that every time I get a haircut, it takes about a week for it to settle down? I have a hard time getting it to style the way I want for the first several days after a cut. Is it upset? Is it grieving its loss? Is it me? Do I suddenly lose the ability to style my hair?

How did I get this weird bruise on the top of my foot? Now, I bruise pretty easily. And I regularly end up with lots of random leg bruises, thanks to public transit -- the drivers have an uncanny knack for pulling away from the curb just as I get near a seat, ensuring that I'll get slammed into the seat. It's so fun. But I don't remember dropping anything on my foot to cause this rather large bruise...

The thing about that pasta dish I made? Even though I cut the ingredients by about a third (on my second attempt, with all of the correct ingredients), I ended up with enough food to feed a small army. Or me, when I'm PMSing. But I'm not. So I've eaten some nearly every day this week. It's good, but, DUDE. ENOUGH already.

If all the drugs I'm currently taking are supposed to make me drowsy, why have I had so many fitful nights of sleep over the past week? I don't think I've slept all the way through even one night. Not even on the weekend. WTF? I. Need. Sleep.

What should I buy a friend for her bridal shower this weekend? She's pregnant with twins, but I want to get her something FOR HER.

Why isn't this week over yet?

A harbinger...?

When I first woke up this morning, I thought it was Friday.

Enough said.

Also, when you dream about having trouble getting enough sleep... does that mean you're not really getting any rest?

Kinda like those workmares I often have. I feel like I should be paid for the time I spend dreaming about work.

These allergy meds are making me thirsty...

Not pretzels.

Here's one benefit of leaving for work as early as I do: I get to watch the sun rise, something I would never get up to see voluntarily. Ever. (Not. a. morning. person.)

And on many mornings, it's really spectacular. Today's was.

This morning, I noticed several other people taking note of it. Usually, everyone's asleep or got their head buried in some kind of reading material. It was a cool little moment.

I told you I was a dork.

Have you heard about our weather lately? In between the heavy rain, hail, thunder and lightning, it's been snowing at times, and not just on our highest peaks. I even saw some by the side of the road on Saturday, near the spot where 28 cars piled up on the slippery highway early that morning. And we could get more, if our cold weather continues. It's just wild.

Can we have a snow day? Just once? Please?

Is it wrong...

....that I laughed at this?

From Dictionary.com:

Word of the Day for Saturday March 11, 2006

crapulous \KRAP-yuh-lus\, adjective:

1. Suffering the effects of, or derived from, or suggestive of gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous stomach.
2. Marked by gross intemperance, especially in drinking; as, a crapulous old [1]reprobate.

A crapulous stomach?? Hahahahahahahaha. Ha. HA.
I do, indeed, have the sense of humor of a 12-year old boy.

As if last week's dream about Britney wasn't bad enough...

...last night, I dreamt I was PREGNANT!
I hadn't told anyone yet, but was starting to show, and had to endure endless questions about who the father was.

I gotta say, I was mighty relieved when I realized it was a dream. For many reasons.

I like my hairstylist's interpretation of the dream: the pregnancy signifies that I'm about to enter a new phase of my life.

I'd really like for this current one to end, as here I sit at home, when I should be at my friend Andrew's 40th birthday party, laughing with fun people and flirting with his cute brother.

Fuck you, fucking respiratory virus.

I'm SO lame...

I've had my current car for, what, five years now? And only today did I realize that I could change the speed of the "intermittent" setting on my windshield wipers.
Good lord.
Okay, so I don't drive every day. Sometimes I go an entire week without driving. But still.

My point? I don't really have one. I just thought it would be nice to start a post about something other than my health.

I can't tell you how nice it was to have a doctor acknowledge that I have a fever.
I can see you now, with furrowed brow, wondering that the big deal is. You stick a thermometer in your mouth, you read what it says. Right?

Here's the thing: "normal" for me is NOT 98.6. It's about 97.4 or 97.6. So if the thermometer says 98.6, that means I have a fever, albeit just a little one.
But here's a sample of what usually happens when I go to the doctor and say fever is one of my symptoms:

Doc: "Well, your temperature's 99.5 degrees. That's not much of a fever."

Me, sweaty: "Well, actually, normal for me is in the mid-97 range, so I'm a tad warmer than you think."

Doc: "But your temperature's 99.5 degrees."

Me, still sweaty: "I know. That's almost two degrees higher than normal FOR ME."

Doc: Blank stare, silence.

I don't bother to point out that I've taken my temperature hundreds of times throughout my life, and got really familiar with my vital signs when my mom was in nursing school a couple of decades ago, and constantly took my blood pressure, pulse, and yes, temperature. Or that it's not normal for me to break out in a sweat while simply standing in my bathroom at 5:15 on a winter morning, applying makeup. I'm tired of having this conversation and being treated like a hysterical female. I'm tired of being dismissed. Why don't these doctors trust that we know our bodies? I'm not one of those people who runs to the doctor every time I sneeze. It takes a lot to get me to go get medical help for a respiratory thing.

So it was a great relief when the doctor I saw yesterday looked at my vitals, and saw the 99 degree reading, and said, all by himself, "I see you have a fever."
I almost kissed him. Instead, I coughed.

Not that we don't already know this, but he tells me it's been a terrible cold and flu season, and that a lot of people have been hit several times, so it's not like I'm about to die (although it has certainly felt like it at times this week...). I simply have some nasty virus, but he concluded that I have some allergy issues that are complicating matters, so he gave me a couple of allergy meds to try, and already, I'm breathing better. And I have some prescription cough medicine to help me get some sleep at night (although all three things I now have are supposed to make me drowsy, and they didn't do much of that last night....).

And for the first time in a week, I didn't wake up in the middle of the night all hot and sweaty. And I've actually been cold at times today, which makes me really, really happy. Our weather's been mighty chilly this week, and I've been hot and sweaty through all of it.

Maybe the end of this thing is in sight...

Alright already...

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow, and I'm sure they'll pooh-pooh my symptoms and tell me I have a virus and to go away. And I'll be annoyed at the waste of my time and money. But I've sneezed about a thousand times today, so it seems my symptoms are getting worse.

Just want to make sure I don't have lung cancer.

How sad is Dana Reeve's death? 44 years old. God.
Actually, the first thing I thought of was her son, who's now lost both parents.

That was my biggest fear, after my dad died (I was 8), that something would happen to my mom. I was completely freaked out when she had to have surgery for uterine fibroids, and I was 19 by then.
Then again, I know she was freaked out, because the first words out of her mouth after she woke up were,"Are they malignant?"

I can't imagine what Will Reeve must be going through now.

SICK of being SICK!

And I'm sure you're sick of reading about it. So all I'll say about the matter today is that I was one of THOSE PEOPLE on the bus today. You know... the ones who make you recoil in fear and horror when they start hacking.

To all those who heard some bleary-eyed woman hacking in the back of the bus this morning: I'm so sorry. Truly.

So, last night, in an effort to take my mind off the fact that my apartment is filthy and I don't have the energy to clean it, I decided to try to make a couple of those dishes I watched Giada make on TV.

I made this, and also, dessert.

Here's a tip, from me to you: even if you have a good memory, and are certain you remembered everything you saw, LOOK UP THE RECIPE. Just do it. Trust me. If nothing else, you'll get to crow about your great memory.

Because if you don't, you'll do what I did, and forget some key ingredients... like the wine and the garlic and the chicken broth. I swear, I didn't see any broth or wine when SHE made that dish...but I was delirious, so I suppose it's a miracle I didn't leave anything else out. Like the pasta.

Even so, the dish came out pretty well, but I can see how those other things will make it soooo much better. As well as the proper amounts of sun-dried tomatoes and basil leaves.

Now the dessert? Oh. My. God. SOOOOOO good. So so so so so good.
Of course I got the dessert 100% right....

Anyone want to help me with my laundry this afternoon?

Anyone?

Bueller?

I'll make you some of that dessert...

Cheap vodka...

...is nasty.

Tastes bad, gives me a headache. Bleah. I can't believe I used to drink that crap in college.

So the party setup was a little different last night, and we decided we liked last year's theme and venue better. And they ran out of food pretty early this time, so that was surprising. But we had fun anyway, showing off our professionally made-up faces complete with false eyelashes (yes, there's still a bit of cold sore left, goddammit). That was fun.

Just like last year, it was pouring pouring pouring most of the night, so getting to the MAC store then to the Cheese's house and on to the party without completely losing my hairstyle (and false eyelashes) was an annoying challenge.

You should have heard the silence in the room when "Crash" won best picture.

Food coma...

I think I'm in one.

I finally dragged my sorry ass out of the house last night to have dinner with my friend Cindy's brother Michael and his fiancee Janet (she of the champagne-bottle-hoarding at the wedding we went to in January), who are spending the weekend playing tourist here in SF. And I had this ginormous slab of prime rib, about half of which is in my fridge right now.

I was so full I conked out on the couch about a half hour after I got home. Woo hoo! What a partier.

Okay, another dangerous thing about being home with too much time on your hands? The Food Network. It's an excellent time killer, but also makes you want to run out and grocery shop so you can make some of the meals you're seeing on TV. Because Giada de Laurentis makes it looks so easy. I'll let you know how THAT goes.

There's also some crap-ass show I caught in which the host throws together a bunch of pre-made food to make it look like you cooked it yourself. Um... she made "tapas" yesterday and it all looked revolting. I ain't never seen no tapas consisting of cole slaw on potato chips topped with pork rib meat that had been slathered with bottled chili sauce. EEEEUW. I'm too lazy to look up the name of the show, but it was something like Partly Homemade, or The Cocktails Are Necessary to Stomach this Shit.

Tonight, once I've taken all my cough-supressing, headache-reducing drugs, Miss Cheese and I are getting all dolled up to attend a big fancy Oscar party. We got to go last year too, and it was so much fun we were thrilled to be invited again. It's a big AIDS benefit, with lots of free food and wine and really friendly people. Yeah, mostly gay men, but that's why it was so much fun.
And there was this food station there last year where we got fed like baby birds. Seriously. You approach, and they put the food in your mouth, sliding it off some large leafy thing (I think). It's a little weird and slightly obscene, but the food was amazing so we went back for seconds.

So tonight, we will be Hollywood starlets, at least in our own minds. And I'll be taping the show so I can catch all of Jon Stewart's brilliance.

You know you're sick when....

...you have a dream that involves Britney Spears.

I was shoe shopping with her, her mother, and some friend of her mom's who bought two pairs of shoes for $7000.
Huh?

Then I was invited to a birthday party for Brit's mom, and, once there, I was hanging with Britney and the tumor she married. Only they weren't married yet; they weren't even a couple yet. But Britney was telling me to stay away from him -- for my sake -- because she didn't think he was my type, and wasn't the kind of guy who'd commit to any woman. I remember being completely confused by why she was saying that, because I wasn't at all interested in him.

I'm glad I at least some good sense about that, even in dreamland.

And yes, I'm as baffled by this dream as you are!

Because the cold sore alone wasn't enough...

I'm sick. AGAIN. Third time since December. Although instead of the slow buildup, this one hit me overnight; I woke up yesterday coughing. And by last night, I was fully phlegmed.

Isn't phlegm a disgusting word?

Anyway, I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, as I can think of at least ten people I've been around (mostly at work) during the past two weeks who've been ill, so it was only a matter of time. Add that to a few nights without enough sleep (and I've had plenty of those), and VOILA! I'm back on the NyQuil.

It's just that I have lots of plans in the coming days. I don't have time for this. Fer chrissake.

p.s. what the hell smells like stinky feet in my apartment?? yes, i checked my feet. they don't stink. something stinks in here! help!!

Impulse control...

I have none.

Not only was I was born without a biological clock, I was also born with little to no impulse control.
How else can I explain yesterday's purchase of tater tots?
They're organic. And contain no trans fats! So they're good for me, right??

If I had any impulse control, I wouldn't have spent another $120 on clothes the other night. (I got two pairs of jeans, two cute tank tops, a shrug, and two bras for that money, though, so I don't feel THAT bad. In fact, that's quite a haul, now that I think about it.)

If I had any impulse control, I wouldn't even be considering buying this bag. I want it for this big fancy Oscar party I'm going to on Sunday night (more on that later) and I KNOW I'd get tons of use out of it (the picture doesn't do it justice -- it's SOOO cute, and perfect for so many outfits). But still. $68 bucks?? I reeeeeaaallllllly want it...

If I had any impulse control, I would probably be thin, always sober, have all my bills paid on time, and never fool around with inappropriate guys.

But I don't think I'd have as much fun.
Well, maybe I would, but I'll never know.