Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep beep beep beep
There's a faint pulse

There are reminders for blog posts scribbled on scraps of paper scattered throughout my condo.

"Write about how you like to get drunk and hold hands with the cute 25 yr old."

"High gas prices = Slow drivers = Kim going to prison for a road rage murder spree."

"If Heaven exists, when a person who has been widowed more than once dies, are they met by an angry ex-spouse(s) when they get there? Do they have any obligation to them since it's 'Til death do us part'?"

"Tell 'em how you got a 'You're a champ!' and a pat on the back after giving a blow job recently."

"Get batteries for vibr..." Oops, different kind of reminder.

The point is, while I haven't actually been blogging, I've still been thinking about it. But what they adorable Duane said in the comments is 100% true, summertime is not blogging time. I just have so many things to see and people to do that I don't really have time for you right now. That's not to say I won't have time for you sometime in the future. Oh no, I'll be back.

I mean, I'm still pay rent on the place so I certainly can't let my money go to waste.

Say it with a song?

I went to the ol' Barnes and Noble today to pick up Scott McClellan's little "tell all" and decided to grab another book too because god knows I'm probably going to lose interest in that one real quick. I went to my favorite section, Essays, and pushed aside the Emerson and Thoreau instead choosing Love is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time by Rob Sheffield. It sounded interesting enough.

When I got home I took the dog out then ran a hot bath. Not wanting to bathe with McClellan, I settled in with my other choice. Sheffield starts by telling about listening to a mix tape his wife made, the significance of the songs, the relationship between he and his wife. Half way through the chapter my Blackberry vibrates on the toilet lid next to me and chimes indicating a text message.

"So I found a song that explains what I need to say to you."

It's The Boy. We broke up almost 2 weeks ago. It just wasn't working and all of a sudden it was over. While it was for the most part mutual, there was no real discussion or explanation, just over.

"I mean I owe you an explanation."

Does it matter? Is that going to change anything? No, not really. Whatever it is, I'll turn it around so that it's somehow my fault and make me feel worse because I'm in Self Pity Mode. Hello menstruation!

"[The song] just explains how I'm nuts and not ready for love."

It's not that he's not ready for love, it's that he doesn't love me. That's partly hormones talking but mostly true. He may not realize that. I don't doubt he believes he's 'not ready' but when he does find a girl he loves, he'll be amazing and I'll be very happy for him.

Maybe I'll make him a mix cd. We'll start it off with You've got a Friend - James Taylor.

Omg, that's so fucking cheesy. I have to get these hormones under control.



PS My internets was out last week and that's why I didn't post. Valid excuse!

Interpretting dreams

I had the weirdest dream ever the other night. I, of course, can't remember the whole thing but here is what I do remember.

There was this big open field where there were all these stations, kind of like a make shift obstacle course. I started out in a shack where The Boy was playing video games and ignoring me completely. I wandered up to the dirt road where, if you looked in either direction, there was no signs of life as far as the eye could see but there was a red bus stop sign.

My sister Son Ya, brother in-law Zach, and the kids were there standing near their minivan when in the distance there was a dust cloud coming up the road. As it got closer it became apparent that it was a bus. When it finally go to us and stopped I noticed there was a piece of paper in the window that said "Hokies" on it. When the doors opened, Zach, without a word, got on. Even though nothing was said I knew that the bus was going to a Hokie football game and I knew it cost $6.

After the bus pulled away, we got into the minivan and my sister started to drive into the field toward another station. At this one there was only a big wooden block in the middle of a dirt circle. Son Ya kept speeding toward it and as soon as we got within an inch I went flying through the window and over the block. On the other side of it was this drop into a canyon.

Just as I was about to hit the ground, everything stopped and I went flying backward back into the van. I saw the whole thing but somehow I ended up crouched behind the passenger seat with my eyes closed. My sister looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to explain what happened but the glass was intact and there was no drop on the other side.

The next thing I remember is being at a diner with a group of people. There a girl there and I can't tell you exactly what she looks like but I know she's hot. It becomes obvious that she's my girlfriend. While her face is a blank, I also know she's supposed be or be like Shane from The L Word (LOVE her). While I hate to disappoint you boys out there, all we seem to do is walk around and hold hands.

And that is where I wake up.

This is what happens when I spend the night drinking mint juleps with a bunch of fabulous gays while watching the Pride parade in DC. What I take away from it is things with The Boy aren't working, it's heading for disaster and I need a hot girl instead.

Interesting.

I think I've forgotten how to blog

That would be funny if it weren't true. I actually did go back in my archives the other day just to see what kind of stuff I'd written about. Let me tell you, that was a mistake. I mean, I really am a shitty blogger.

I'll be back very soon. I've decided I do need to work writing back into my oh-so packed schedule. I've got softball on sundays and mondays, pool on thursdays, happy hours, baseball games, barbecues, birthday parties, etc. Not to mention trying to fit in time with The Boy who's schedule is equally as filled.

Not that you guys aren't important to me. You are. I know I've been distant and not giving you the attention you need. I'm so sorry. It's not you, it's me. I really am going to work to be a better blogger for you because, let's face it, you complete me.

if Wile E Coyote had all that money to buy ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?

I'm bored. Ridiculously bored.

I've actually been thinking of things I could do to become unbored. Like sending out greeting cards to random people I pick out of the phone book. That could be fun.

You know what would be more fun? If they said great things like, "Enjoy the herpes," or, "Remember when we were married in Vegas 10 years ago?" Maybe I'll steal some ideas from someecards.com

Feel free to make suggestions.

Menopause cannot come soon enough

I'm PMSing. Good times.

See, you men that are reading this don't know what it's like. Let me give you a little glimpse.

I just watched the end of the last Ugly Betty 12 times. Just the part where Gio says, "That's the thing, I don't want to be the rebound guy. I want to be the guy," and teared up every time. It's actually a good night because I haven't broken out Love Story or The Notebook. A really bad night would be Romeo and Juliet with me afterward vowing to jump out the window. It was a good investment buying a condo on the first floor.

I'm tired as hell, lying bed, surrounded by chocolate wrappers and wondering why The Boy hasn't called. We got back together Sunday and I haven't heard from him in 24 hrs. Maybe he's with a girl. Maybe he's dead. Him being with a girl would be worse.

Tomorrow I'll wake up and my feet will be swollen and I'll feel like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man. No matter how many time I try to fix my hair it'll be wrong. I'll go to work and be crabby, snapping at everyone. When The Boy finally does call I'll either rip him a new one for no reason in particular or be sappier than a pine. It's really a coin flip which way it'll go. Hell, it might be both in the same breath! Who knows!

You think that sounds fun? The best part is yet to come!

Soon I'll be bleeding from the vagina for 5-7 days and feel MORE bloated and, AND have CRAMPS! Not some dull little cramps either, oh no. We're talking rabid mule continuously kicking you over and over again in the uterus till your eye feel like they're going to pop out of your fucking head. Yippee!!

You got something to top that? Want to complain about that little ol' prostate exam?

Assholes.

Accepting applications

You know what I need? A personal assistant. I was thinking about it the other day and my life would be awesome if I had someone that could do all the little crap that I hate and help me out.

Last night, while lying in bed, I was trying to think of who I would hire. Naturally, my first thought was "hot guy" but while he would be eye candy, I fear having him around would ruin my game. "Hot girl" is definitely out of the question for obvious reasons and I don't surround myself with ugly people. I'm thinking a girl who's cute but in a homely sort of way. I envision her with glasses and she probably wears lots of cardigans.

Her duties will be simple enough: walk the dog, keep my schedule, drive me home (or to whomever's home) when I'm drunk, run errands, and write up blog entries that I dictate to her while playing poker online.

How hard is that? Of course, the problem is I don't have the funds to pay someone to be my bitch...er, assistant. Wasn't there a Seinfeld episode where Kramer got an intern from a college or something? I could do that. I have a lot I can teach the young students of today.

OH! Or I could adopt a kid! She would only have to be old enough to drive, right? Technically, she would only have to be old enough for learner's permit since I'll be in the car. Granted, I'll be intoxicated and probably passed out but it'll be a good learning experience.

The only other option I see is to find a nice gay boy who wants to get married because he's not out of the closet yet. I'll be the perfect wife when need be and provide a roof over his head and he takes care of my shit. I think that's fair.