Fried Day...

Remember when Friday night meant partying with abandon?

Now, my favorite thing to do most Fridays is to get into my pajamas.

It's so sad. Then again, I'm no morning person, so by the time Friday arrives, I've spent five days fighting my circadian rhythms (and now, my sleeping troubles, too).

Plus, work has been fairly hectic this week, though today, I had the pleasure of meeting both the aforementioned Freda Payne, and the legendary Rita Moreno, both of whom were very gracious and didn't mind all the gushing I did.

My end-of-week exhaustion is also why Friday has become my manicure (and sometimes pedicure) day. It's a nice dose of luxury and pampering at a time when I need it most. And today, I got an extra special treat when my coworker/friend Rebecca's daughter Laura walked in while I was at the salon, to get a pre-prom mani/pedi! That was great fun, except for the moment that it hit me that I can still remember when Laura was born.

And that we are now talking about where she wants to go to college after she graduates next year.

Oh. Ma. Ga. I'm OLD!!! When did that happen?

Can you tell I'm having a mid-life crisis?

(Abrupt topic change)

Okay, so the rains have finally stopped...thankfully! But now? We've gone from winter to summer in my neighborhood.

And I don't mean summer as it is in most places; I mean, summer as it is in the western part of my fair city.

Meaning, foggy and windy as fuck... something I covered last summer. It was totally drizzly and cooooold as I walked home after my manicure. I sure hope this isn't a harbinger of things to come. Yeah, yeah yeah... I know to expect it in the summer... but it's still only April. And I need some more spring, Mother Nature. It was so lovely downtown today. And so gorgeous all over last week.

Can I have some more? Please?

So cruel...

Someone among the powers that be at work decided it was a good idea to replace the flaw-enhancing fluorescent light over the mirror in the women's bathroom with an even BRIGHTER super-duper flaw-enhancing light that makes me look even more hideous than before.

Thanks. Thanks a whole lot. It's a good thing I colored my hair last night, as these lights highlight every gray I have. (And I have many, as I've written before. )

My home bathroom lighting is so much more flattering. The lightbulb has a pinkish hue, giving me a rosy glow. So much nicer. Why can't we have one of these at work?


Okay, but the real puzzlement for me today is this: what is it with guys and their saliva? WHY do so many men think it's socially acceptable to spit in public?

ON THE SIDEWALK?

WHERE, you know, PEOPLE WALK?

Seriously. Do men have such an excess amount of phlegm or some other mystery fluids that they simply must haul off and expel it wherever they happen to be? Noisily? And frequently?

Dis. Gus. Ting.

I don't think I've ever seen a woman behave in this manner. And even when I've been really sick, and probably SHOULD spit up a phlegmball I've coughed up, I don't do it IN PUBLIC. WHERE PEOPLE WALK.

We're living in a society, people...

Now that you're gone...

...all that's left is a band of gold...

I can't get that song out of my head today...but that's because Miss Sassyhair and I saw the incredible Freda Payne at the Plush Room last night.

Her show is a tribute to the great Ella Fitzgerald, and I think this was one of the best shows I've ever seen at the Plush Room, right up there with Paula West and Lea DeLaria.

What an amazing voice. And it's pretty amazing that she nearly moved me to tears while singing "Someone to Watch Over Me," considering that I've heard the song about a million times.

And of course, she did "Band of Gold" toward the end of the evening, along with a Vietnam-era anti-war song of hers that couldn't have been more timely.

And my Manhattans were mighty tasty.


Eeeeek update: No mouse sightings since the Sunday night visit... which is not as reassuring as you might think....

WHERE... IS... IT???

BLAAAAAAAGH!!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk!

I spotted a mouse in my apartment the night before last.

It scampered from an area behind my loveseat to the spot behind my TV, across the room from where I was sitting.

I didn't emit a girly scream, but I wanted to. I did pick my feet up off the floor immediately and felt like I wanted to throw up. Especially since it was too late to go buy a mouse trap.

I had visions of the little guy (or girl) wreaking havoc on my home (or ME!) while I slept. So I closed the doors between my bedroom and the other half of my apartment.

Like the mouse that somehow got into an apartment on the second floor of the building would be deterred by those...

Blech. My skin gets all itchy every time I think about it (like right now, even though I'm at work), and my hairs stand on end.

I bought a couple of traps yesterday -- the kind that don't make you watch the mouse die, or see its corpse -- and was too icked out this morning to even check. (This is one of those times I wish I had a fella around, so I could make him deal with it.)

And now I'm icked out by the possibility that there's a dead mouse in my living room.

BLEAH.

The funny thing is, if I saw a little mouse like this outside, I wouldn't even flinch. It's the fact that it's in... my... HOME. Where did it come from, anyway??

BLEAH. I'M SO GROSSED OUT!

These are a few of my least favorite things...

Finally getting around to Jmai's tag...

Colour: Brown. At least in terms of my clothing and home decor. Boring!

Time of Day: The moment the alarm goes off. An expletive usually comes to mind.

Day of Week: Monday's a strong candidate, but I think Tuesdays are even worse. As Jmai herself put it, there's still too much of the work-week left. And I usually start feeling the sleep deprivation on Tuesdays.

Month: January, because all the holiday fun and frivolity is over, and there's usually nothing to look forward to. Plus, it's usually when we get our worst weather. But this year, I took a very fun little trip in January, so it's hard to say.

Holiday: I was going to say Easter, because I'm not a religious person, so this doesn't matter to me... but there's chocolate involved, so never mind. Umm... I can't get all that excited about Memorial Day, though it's nice to have a three-day weekend, assuming I can get the day off. And like Jmai, I don't find Columbus Day particularly interesting...

Food: Tomatoes. I like tomato sauce, and soup, and even ketchup. But tomatoes in their unadulterated form? BLECH. I'm pretty sure it's a texture issue. A close second is cilantro, which I despise in any form. As Dzer would say, fucking bleah. GAH.

Movie Genre: Action/adventure. Zzzzzzzzzz. Not my thing.

Actor: Tom Cruise. Okay, I DID like him in "Interview with the Vampire," but I find him utterly annoying on every level. On and off screen.

Actress: Julia Roberts. Talk about overrated. I've never understood why she's considered as special as she is.

Film: "The Usual Suspects." I thought it was boring as hell, and I KNEW who Keyser Soze as soon as I saw Kevin Spacey. It doesn't help that I waited until it came out on video, and had already heard all the hype (which is why I knew of the big mystery surrounding Keyser Soze's identity in the first place). Plus, I remember being in a foul mood when I watched it. Now, had I liked the film, it would have lifted me out of that mood, which is why I watched it in such a state. Where the fuck was all that great dialogue I'd read about??

TV Program: "Deadwood." Oh my GOD. The two episodes I watched amounted to the longest two hours of my life. Stultifying.

Sport: Golf. Unless there are little windmills involved.

Animal: Rats/mice. Ick. EEK.

Character trait: Arrogance. Arrogant people make me want to pole holes in their egos.

Body Part: Uhhh... I really can't think of how to answer this one. Okay, how about feet? Stinky, moist feet? Yuck.

Piece of Clothing: Pantyhose. Hate 'em, but they're a necessary evil when you're as pale and lumpy as I am.

Music: This is a toughie, as I like music in all genres... but I'd have to go with really twangy country music, and most opera.

State to Drive Through: I've only really driven through California, which is, as you know, the size of several states. Now, when I was little, we used to drive from Virginia to Connecticut all the time, but I was too young to remember most of those drives. Can I just say Delaware and be done with it?

Sound: The alarm going off. An expletive usually comes to mind.

Tagging...... anyone who wants to do this. It's fun!

Don't make me snap you...*

I hate it when I get up on a Sunday morning (okay, so it was almost afternoon when I got up. I took a sleeping pill last night, okay??) and my newspaper is nowhere to be found. So now I have to go out and buy one. When I've already paid for it. And it's the Sunday paper, no less -- more fun, and more expensive. Damned newspaper thieves...

Anyway... back to the much nicer topic of last week. Cindy and the girls got here late Tuesday afternoon, and since that was the big earthquake commemoration day, I thought we should pay homage in our own way. So we had dinner at one of the restaurants in the Ferry Building, which was all lit up in different colors for the occasion (that's the picture you see here - cool!) and then we took a walk up to Lotta's Fountain, which is where the official commemoration is held each year (you may have seen the mayor hanging a wreath on it on TV last week). Not only was the fountain still standing after the quake, it became a gathering place and message center for survivors, so that's why it's an important part of city history.

Then, of course, we were off to Ghirardelli Square for sundaes. Yum.

The next day, we checked out this exhibit, which was really amazing. Goofed off in Golden Gate Park, where the girls were amazed to see that gazebo that's in "Memoirs of a Geisha" (yes, they filmed part of the movie here), stopped in briefly at the new De Young museum to check out the view from its observation deck, then headed over to the Wharf, because it's where you have to go when you're a tourist. And I remember loving it when I was the girls' age (they're 15). Watched the sea lions at Pier 39, had a nice dinner, then got dessert at a fabulous little dessert cafe back in my 'hood.

Thursday, we headed downtown to shop a little, rode the cable car, shopped in Chinatown, then had another lovely dinner in my 'hood before we collapsed. Okay, I collapsed.

The weather was spectacular, the company even more so. Lots of laughter and way too much food. But those, I think, are the hallmarks of a good time. Where are we going next, girls??


*we said it this way so many times, i don't even remember now what the correct phrase was! cindy? sierra? lindz? anyone?

Not dead yet!

Although I feel like it.

I'm absolutely exhausted. But in a good way.

It's been a whirlwind of fun with the girls for the past three days, and I'll provide details once I've had a chance to catch my breath.

It's all I can do to get through the workday without passing out at my desk.

Also? I have a sunburn.

SUNburn.

That word starts with SUN.

I KNOW! Shocking!


I'm going to pretend I don't know that there's more rain in the forecast this weekend...

100 Years Ago...

As you may know, it's a big day here, with all sorts of ceremonies and other events to mark the centennial of the Great 1906 Earthquake and Fire.

It's been both interesting and moving. The newspapers have been publishing all sorts of incredibly detailed and personal accounts of what happened 100 years ago.

And this morning, I felt myself well up when I was listening to the bells tolling and the sirens going off, at the moment the quake struck. It surprised me, despite my long history of crying over just about everything.

And pardon my total geekdom for a moment, but it made me even prouder to be a San Franciscan. I love this place. I've wanted to live here since I was about 12 years old, and sometimes, it still amazes me that I do.

Too much fun...

Too much yummy food.

Too much wine.

Too much chocolate.

Too much laughter. (okay, you can't ever have too much of that....)

Too many hours spent at both weekend events.

I just couldn't bring myself to leave either gathering!

It was a great weekend. And now I'm exhausted, and prepping for a visit from more very fun people -- my pal Cindy, her daughter Sierra, and niece Lindzey. They're the ones I always visit in SoCal, so it's about time they're coming back here!

Won't they be shocked to find that the four of us will be forced to share one bathroom...
At least the sun's out.

See y'all later this week!

I want one!!

Check this out.

The website calls it the softest blanket ever.

They're so NOT KIDDING.

Angela was given one at her shower today, and none of us could not stop touching and fondling it. It's sooooooo soft and wonderful, on both sides. One is nubby, the other side furry, and somehow, they're both unbelievably, inexplicably soft. We decided we wanted to make clothes out of the material, or sheets, or a sleeping bag.

I no longer want to be ensconced in velvet; I want to be ensconced in whatever this miracle material is. I do not have the words to describe this blanket to you.

And they even make them...FOR ADULTS!
(click on the main blankets section if you want more on those)

Wonder if I can talk my mom into buying me one for my next birthday...

All too brief...

Our dose of spring, that is.

Oh my god, was it gorgeous yesterday. A spectacular sunrise. And when I left work, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The air even smelled good. It was glorious. I didn't even want to read on the way home; I just wanted to gaze out the window and marvel at how beautiful my city really is.

Now? The gray has returned. We're expecting more rain, on and off, through the weekend. Bah.

I suspect I'll be too busy to care much, though. Tomorrow, I'm going to a shower/party for her, and on Sunday, I'm off to my friend Sherri's in the South Bay for an Easter feast. In between, loads of errands and grocery shopping and hopefully, some much-needed sleeeeep.

And next week, my friend Cindy and her daughter and niece are driving up from SoCal for a whirlwind mid-week visit.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I have the most amazing friends. I'm thrilled I'll get to see several of them in the coming days.

Yada, yada, yada...

Okay, are the astrologers looking right into my psyche?

If you've been feeling a little frustrated about something lately, then why not turn your exercise routine up a notch? If you've been skipping your workout altogether, then this is the day to get back in there and get in touch with your body. Sometimes being good to your body is a crucial step toward embodying your hopes, aspirations and dreams. At the very least, you'll be less grouchy. And you'll sleep better.

Ain't that the truth. And since the rain seems to have stopped...at least for a few hours... I'm hoping to get out for a good, long walk today.

I hope that last post didn't leave you with the impression that I'm sitting here on my hands, waiting for my prince to come along and change my life.

(I can't even believe I typed the words "my prince." I just made myself nauseous.)

No. Not at all.

I'm a pretty busy girl, much of the time (except for those extraordinarily lazy weekends, which I sometimes need to recharge my batteries). I go places. I do things. I'm out there. I'm blessed with great friends who make me laugh every day. (They just don't happen to know any single men!)

I just don't, in the course of these things, meet interesting guys. Or, I should say, guys I'm interested in.

There are definitely more things I want to do. There are classes I want to take, but I do have limits on time, finances, and energy. Not to mention, the classes I want to take? Not likely to include interesting guys. Not straight ones, anyway.

And more importantly, I don't want to be taking classes or trying anything new JUST to meet guys. Bleah. Gross. To learn and grow, to enrich my life, absolutely. And that's my aim.

This dating hiatus I've been on doesn't mean I've been closed off to the notion of finding a partner, either. The idea was (is) to focus on other areas of my life, but also to remain open to the possibilities. To let whatever's meant to happen, happen.

Which is why I was more than a tad alarmed about a year ago when it occurred to me that maybe what's been happening IS the way it's going to be. Forever. That I might never find a partner. And that I was going to have to find a way to be okay with that, because how much would it suck to get to the end of my days and have this huge regret, to feel that this huge thing was missing from my life?

Yeah, that was not a happy feeling. But I still didn't -- nor do I now -- have the desire to go back online, or to try speed dating or anything like that.

I'm not interested in "shopping" for a mate, trying many different people on to see if they fit. I've found that to be just plain weird and often tedious. Artificial. Forced. Going on a lot of first dates gets really old, really quickly. For ME, anyway.

Not to mention, there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of demand out there for chubby girls over 40.

And that brings up another thorny issue.

Being less chubby would probably bring more men into my orbit, even though when I was younger and thinner, it didn't.

But I don't want to be with someone who can't accept me for who I am.

I want to become less chubby. That is one of the things I've been focusing on during this hiatus, though I've certainly fallen way off that track again in recent months. But it's definitely a priority.

I will become less chubby.

I will not accept conditional love.

The bottom line? There's no easy answer. All I can do is continue to live my life as I want to live it, strive for more, and see what comes.

At least it's not Monday anymore...

I had another terrible night's sleep.

But horoscopes like this one give me hope. At some point, I hope to be able to explain why:

You spend the morning holding your tongue and making what you want to happen, happen. In the afternoon, you'll already see that the proverbial ball is rolling. That's exactly what you were aiming for -- don't be surprised if you land a strike or two. You've been training, you've got those nice comfy bowling shoes that look slick too, and you know the old lanes like the back of your hand. Maybe your team will go to the county tournament!

Okay, I'm not so sure I like the bowling analogy, but whatever.

My friend Kimmy asked me a really excellent question yesterday. She wanted to know if I was ready to get back out there to start dating again, as I've been on a hiatus of sorts for... oh... a long time. It's been so long I can't even remember when it started.

Of course, this hiatus would have ended had there been anyone interested enough in me to actually ask me out on a date, but that hasn't happened, so I still say my hiatus is self-imposed.

So what I told her was that I am ready to meet someone interesting who's also interested in me, and then we could get to know each other, yada yada yada. But I'm not sure I'll ever be up to pimp myself to the world again.

As I've mentioned before, I did a fair bit of online dating a few years back, and since it just doesn't seem possible for me to meet anyone interesting in the "real" world, that seems to be the only way to go.

Except that I don't want to.

I've already expressed some of my disdain about online dating here. And my own extreme lameness about dating here.

Suffice it to say, nothing's changed. And I'm definitely not in a place emotionally where I'm up for being rejected by people I haven't even met.

I know you're not supposed to take that personally, and I did meet some really nice guys -- a couple of whom I dated for awhile -- but the last few times I've taken a look around, and even put a profile up temporarily? A complete waste of time. It left me so discouraged.

And the hiatus was all about changing my approach to all of this. To stop trying to force something to happen. To stop being the one doing all the work in my relationships. To focus on other aspects of my life that need changing.

Yeah.

It doesn't help that the hormones think it's spring...

How do people do this?


*by the way, it's pouring outside as I type...

Tossing and turning...turning and tossing...

...on just another average Sunday night with very little sleep. And I was so tired when I went to bed! That's so frustrating.

Then again, I do have a lot on my mind these days, and that didn't help. Nothing I can write about right now, but suffice it to say it's all about those Big Life Questions. What am I doing? Where am I going? How can I make my life what I want it to be? What do I really want?

Also not helping with the sleep? My ex-husband turned up in a dream. I hate when that happens, even though I have come to realize that he doesn't really represent himself when he turns up in one of my dreams; he signifies "relationships." Hard to make that go away, considering that we were together for nearly 15 years. Still. Get the hell out of my psyche, assclown!

Despite the restless night, I had a really good weekend. The wedding I attended on Saturday was so nice. The setting was lovely, and thankfully, the weather was clear, so no dramamine was required. The bride was stunning, everyone seemed really happy, and it was clear there was a lot of love in this crowd. As the Queen of Cheese said, "I love love." It's nice to see it on display.

And luckily, I made it through the evening without sweating off my false eyelashes or falling on my ass on the dance floor. Even when we were out in a rough part of the bay.

Yesterday, I got to watch the Sharks beat the pants off the Dallas Stars in the most aggressive hockey game I've seen in person. No big fights, which I keep waiting for, but it was close. All sorts of penalties! Sticking! Tripping! Roughing! One guy narrowly missed getting his face sliced open by an opposing player's skate!

And it was really funny when, after a sticking penalty, my friend the Season Ticket Holder says, "Bleed!!" I didn't realize that making another player bleed doubles your time in the penalty box. You learn something new every day.

I think I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.

The respite comes to an end...

Oh, we've had such lovely weather since about midday on Wednesday.

No rain.

Not a drop.

A rather unfamiliar, bright orb was in the sky, warming the air and making people smile.
I even got over my hatred of "springing forward," because I was so enjoying the extra hours of daylight... since it was actually LIGHT.

Now... the gloom is returning. The forecast calls for rain on and off through at least the early part of next week. That should make the wedding I'm attending on a yacht tomorrow night interesting. I think I should take some dramamine with me....

Dang.

*UPDATED: Mother Nature was "kind" enough to start raining not five minutes after I left work, so I could be nice and wet by the time I got to the bus stop. Even with my umbrella, which is going to rust soon. And then it poured poured poured while I was out running errands when I got home. *Sigh.

My cleavage is uneven...

So, you remember those cool new bras I was going on and on about not long ago?

Still loving them. But I'm wearing one today, with a new top that didn't seem quite as low-cut when I bought it as it does now (ummm YIKES, maybe it was not the best choice for work) ... and I can't help but notice a certain asymmetry in my cleavage.


How the hell do I fix this?? I've made plenty of boob adjustments today (and boy, it's a good thing there are no video cameras in the ladies room at work)... and still. Uneven. It looked a little like an earthquake fault on my chest.

So gravity is apparently not my only problem in the boobal area. Great.
I know. All women have slight variations in boob size. But I've never noticed uneven cleavage on anyone else before.

Also? You men crack me up. I couldn't help noticing how many fellas took note of the ta-tas today. The dude working the grocery store cash register NEXT to the one I was at even started chatting me up. That doesn't seem to happen when the girls are undercover...

I just don't get it...

Each morning, as part of my daily ritual, I turn on my TV for a moment. Not to watch it, but to change the channel so I can tape the morning replays of the Daily Show and the Colbert Report. I don't have Tivo, and I watch too much TV, so my prime-time taping schedule is complicated and elaborate, and requires me to catch those replays during the day.

Not the point.

Anyway. When I turn on Comedy Central each morning, the same informercial is on. It's for the latest DVD in the "Girls Gone Wild" series.

Here is my question: who buys these things? If you're gonna buy something like this, why not just buy some real porn? Why buy this lame soft-core crap? What's the appeal? Why not get the real thing?

And who's watching this infomercial at 4:30 in the morning? On weekdays??

Never again...

...will I go to Target on a soggy, Sunday, afternoon.

JESUS CHRIST! Apparently, that's the thing to do. I hate doing what everyone else is doing. I want to move through the aisles quickly and efficiently, not slowly and ploddingly. I don't need to stop and examine every item. I don't. Especially in the soap aisle. Or the laundry detergent aisle.

And not only was it too crowded, some of the store's shelves were completely bare. Couldn't find my hair color (hello, white roots!) or my deodorant (yes, I still have some. I'm not stinky today. I don't think.). Or the kitty litter I offered to pick up for my neighbors. Who's ever heard of a run on kitty litter, fer crying out loud??

AND, I managed to pick the stormiest part of the day to make my trip. Sunday drivers + flooding roads = OMIGOD I'M GOING TO KILL SOMEONE! The visibility was terrible, with the heavy rain, and still... people were driving like maniacs.

Never again will I be embarassed by my Friday or Saturday night forays to Target. It's much more pleasant, believe me.

But the Sunday night pizza I made after I got home and dried out was one of my best ever, so I was able to forget about the afternoon.

Speaking of my neighbors, Tim has had his surgery and is feeling better, but they still don't know whether that tumor was benign or malignant. The doctors think he'll be home this week.

Michael claims the rains will now stop, because he's purchased a coat for the first time in years. I hope he's right....

Oww...

I'm still feeling the effects of those cosmos from the other night.

No, it's not a hangover...per se. When I fell asleep (or passed out, whatever! don't be so technical!) on the couch that night, I managed to do so in a position that completely wrenched my neck.
I have a permanent neck problem -- a couple of bulging disks -- that's a work-induced repetitive stress injury, so it's a very sensitive area.
But after all those years of physical therapy and Pilates, I know what I need to do to get it back to "normal" again. It just hurts like fucking hell right now. And my range of motion is shit.

And I'm all crampy in a womanly way, so my nerve receptors are all pissy today!

But here's something funny: I was watching "The Office" (the U.S. version) the other night, and I had a flashback during the scene in which Michael mistakes the package delivery woman as his birthday stripper.

Several years ago, I hosted a bachelorette party for a co-worker friend. We decided to hire a male stripper to entertain her, even though she kept saying she didn't want one. She's a notorious ogler of men's bodies, so we figured she'd love it. Turned out, we were mistaken, but more on that later.

The stripper was to show up in the guise of a Domino's pizza delivery man -- he had the company uniform and even one of those pizza warmer thingies. When I answered the door, I was supposed to be all puzzled and give him a hard time and insist I wasn't going to pay him, as we hadn't ordered pizza from Domino's. Then he was supposed to break out the boombox and do his thing. So clever, eh?

Except my boss decided to play a little prank on us, and actually DID order us a Domino's pizza, and set it up so it would arrive before our stripper.

So the real Domino's guy shows up, and he's not exactly got a hot bod -- he was kind of a big guy, in fact, but who am I to judge? -- and has a bit of a Russian accent that I don't remember anyone mentioning, but whatever. I'm playing my part, giving this guy a hard time, and wondering why the hell he's not playing along and taking off his clothes.

There was only one partygoer who was in on the joke, and thank god she finally stepped up to pay the poor man, who graciously posed for pictures with us before he went on his way. I hope we tipped him well. I don't remember.

So then the real stripper shows up, and the bride-to-be would have none of it. She didn't want him to touch her or dance near her or anything. So, it was up to the rest of us to enjoy his work, and we did... until we couldn't get him to leave.

And then he called my apartment a few days later, supposedly looking for his missing thong underwear. My then-husband thought that was fishy, but now I'm not sure if he was jealous of the stripper or of me.

Be vewy, vewy quiet...

The sun's out.

I'm whispering so I don't scare it away.

I'd better get out there and enjoy it before the rain returns.

Because it's supposed to.

On and off again for the entire week.

*sigh.