Friday, February 27, 2009

Questionable discussions

I've spent the last couple of days whining and complaining about nearly everything that crossed my path. Like a child tugging on her ear, I should have realized that illness was settling in. Now, I know many of you are accustomed to my cynical and sarcastic method of writing. I do try to weave in humor when I'm bitching and moaning; yet, it's so easy to become settled in that mindset and not get out.
What struck me too close to home is expressing joyfulness for absolutely no reason while at work and being accused of being drunk or high. Naturally they didn't really think I was under the influence, but clearly such jovial behavior isn't what they typically see. In my defense, that's a crock of shit. I'm happy a lot of the time, but people tend to ruin the moment with their stupidity. I have a lot of contempt for my job and I don't know why. Let's blame stagnation in order to remove blame from any one specific person whose mere existence annoys me to no end.
I need to remove my personal feelings towards many people in my life. I'm forced to have them in my life due to circumstances of employment. It's difficult when you only want to do your job, collect a paycheck and get the hell out of dodge when your shift is over. As I said, I do not befriend everyone with whom I work.

A good friend presented me with a situation in her place of employment. It's a small group of people and it's not uncommon for people to discuss their personal lives. It's normal. But there are lines that seem to be crossed with a particular person of authority. While she shared her quandary with me, I had to evaluate my own situation at work. In doing so, a lot of "things that make you go hmmmm" came up.

Here's a question, how does one go about telling a person of higher position that you do not want to learn about their personal life ... particularly knowledge that said higher position person is spending the night with a new companion or how much new companion spends on her or him? While the rest of us are struggling in a recession, I find it in poor taste and inappropriate bragging. Surely this person has friends outside of work to share these details. Why, WHY!? do people equate happiness and affection with the amount spent on them?

I'm a little off track. I'll come back to the money = affection scenario in another post.
What I do want to know is how would you handle this matter? Have you ever been in a situation where your boss person shares more information than you ever wanted to learn? Do you respect a person who is in a position of authority when they spend more time discussing how many Benjamins were doled out on their behalf while they should be discussing how business is slagging? Have you ever been called at home by your boss only to realize the work related question was nothing more than a ruse and a means to talk about themselves?
In my naturally snarky manner, I would advise my friend to tell her boss person that she sounds like a gold digging tramp and needs to keep the business in the work place and keep her private life just that. I would feel justified in speaking to her in such a manner by saying, "You're crossing the line of work and pleasure. When you talk to me about your personal life, I no longer see you as my boss but a gossiping trollop and I expect no retaliation for this reaction. I am hereby asking you cease this line of sharing. You and I are not friends. Please, check your personal life at the gate." Obviously such a comment would probably send the boss person into a frenzied pouting session and leave my friend feeling like the bad guy when she'd be speaking for the whole in her expression.
At what point would you call upon human resources for intervention? Would you ask for a meeting with the offending person and a 3rd party in order to keep it 'in house'?

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Frank Black (of the Pixies) says it far better. Do a little clicky-pooh and enjoy while my head throbs.
I scorched my tongue on my too hot chicken noodle soup. I just watched for the first and last time "Semi Homemade" on the Food Network. I have to ask who that woman seduced to get her own show. She's dreadful. Her ideas aren't lavish or intricate or even requiring a damned recipe. In fact, I think I have a kids's cook book that has the same stuff. GAH! And her retro Farrah 'do isn't working on her oversize melon head that sits atop her anorexic waifish neck. I totally wanted to stab her with a fork. Seriously.

Headache - Frank Black

Yeah, I'm not going to make it in today

Chicken soup to the left and a television remote on the right. VH1's "Confessions of a Teen Idol" on the tube. Sick days aren't all bad. Sure, my head is filled with a substance that refuses to evacuate and I'm slightly feverish, but hey! I'm not working. I was expected to be there by 1:00 p.m. However, that ain't hap'nin'. Me thinks having a fever is a good excuse regardless of my co-worker laying a guilt trip on me for doing the world a favor by not passing out on the premises or puking on Mr. Jones' bi-focals.
I have no idea when chicken soup first made an appearance on this earth, but good googily goo! I swear by it when I have a head full of snot and a tummy that's churning as if it's about to regurgitate the contents of hell. I'm sure I'd do just as well with chicken broth alone, but this is a comfort that takes me back to mom and dad spending a little extra dough to buy their little girl Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup at the neighborhood grocer.
Sick days always make me nostalgic. For one, I long to have someone take care of me. It totally sucks having to make my own soup or attempt to hold back my hair when I'm face down in the commode. Even my hair follicles ache. So, a pony tail is not feasible.
Now that Mancub is older, I send him to our neighborhood grocer to pick up chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. He's willing because I always let him buy a treat for himself just as my parents did when they sent me to the store as a kid. He's even sweet enough to cook the soup and isn't reluctant to wake me while napping to ask if I'm doing alright.
Today he is in school. What kind of mom would I be to jeopardize my son's perfect attendance for my own needs? So, in my dizzyfied state, I drove a block to get the necessary items for my get well kit. Don't give me "go green" crap. It's drizzling and cold. I was already chilled to the bone in my weakened state. I couldn't risk passing out in front of the Nazarene church. In this town, I do NOT want mouth to mouth from anyone. Egads! To justify driving, I made a detour to the Post Office to mail my gas bill. It's an additional block from the house. I may be sick, but I'm still relatively responsible.
Upon my return from my brave journey to wellness, I changed into clean pajamas and turned on the television. I scanned the guide and that's where I found "Confessions ...." I know I'm feeling nostalgic and under the weather, but did the finale really deserve the shedding of tears?? Not those of Christopher Atkins or Billy Hufsey or Adrian Zmed. MINE!
Clearly I'm sicker than I first thought. This might require a dose of NyQuil. Then again, I usually have wackadoodle dreams while under the influence of the the night time sniffling, sneezing,coughing, aching, stuffy head,fever so you can rest medicine. With consideration to the program I was just watching, that could make for some dream cross-referencing that may be even too weird for this blog. Be ascared. Be very, very ascared!

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Mancub's Kindness -- a photo journal

I tried displaying these photos creatively the other day. I had a slide show ready and it wouldn't work when I attempted posting it. How rude! This is the Valentine's Day gift my son gave to me ... and continues to give me daily. I was so touched. Like any mom would do, I put this up on my refrigerator. It's a real pick-me-up!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Sisters are blogging it for themselves!

Blogging. Web logs. Virtual journals that have managed to bring the world together in some capacity .. for better or worse. This post is about the better.
If you look to the right under the "Blog me? Blog You!" column, you'll see a large list of blogs. Those are blogs that I read. The authors each possess a unique quality that gives me food for thought. Whether it be providing me with the laugh of the day or cause to shed a tear, they are fantastic reads!
Today is all about the ladies.
To say that I was giddy when Popping Bubbles graciously put my blog on her list is an understatement. There are so many phenomenal bloggers out there and I'm humbled to be in their company. Her blog takes the reader from awe-ing over her affection for and collection of shoes to laughing hysterically over the toils of the workplace.

Without further ado, I give you TEN blog sisters who can turn the world on with a smile. They can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worth while. Well, it's you girl! And you should know it!!

Hidden Mahala : She craps me up every time I log on to her blog. This city girl stuck in the "holler" gives you a perspective that is something to behold. Click the link. Thank me later.

Sherries's Bloggity Blog: I met Sherrie through the Stuck in the 80s blog. Her blog is new, but worthy of your love and affection. She's whip smart and terrifically witty.

Not A Mean Girl: Tessa bares all on her blog. I applaud her courage as she wears her heart on her sleeve.

Yoonamania: Newly citizenized Yoon discusses her deep love and affection for her animals and life in general. Again, another smarty pants who displays a perspective on things that has to be read to fully appreciate. Go!

Citizen Janey: Jane encompasses all things fab-u-lous! She's a groovy mom with a penchant for cooking and a love of drummers. In her next life, call her Mrs. Copeland.

Miss Attitude: This girl is 10 kinds of wonderful. I swear sometimes she's my sister from another mister. Love.Her!

Cajunvegan: Pardon me, but she's fucking fabulous and isn't afraid to strut that moniker. From the tales of Monkey Boy to the touching insight of a principal, I love reading her point of view. I laugh, I cry.

Claudia: Without her unconscious mutterings, a Sunday staple, my week couldn't begin. She's simply an amazing woman. DENVER CEREAL! She's published. Get your copy!

Angie Bailey: Angie, the wife of a former high school choir mate, has the quirkiest blog. It's clear she knows how to laugh a lot, and makes those around her giggly. It's not just about the cats, but they are most certainly part of the blog-fold.

TopSurf: This woman is probably one of the most genuinely kind people you'll ever encounter. If you read her blog you'll quickly realize why I think she's always on my 'must read' list.

Although her blog is set to private and password protected, I cannot end this post without mentioning Lydia Valentine. I admire her greatly. She's become a friend in the last year or so we've read each other's blogs. I love how her life unfolds with every word put before me. Each of her posts is titled after an 80s tune. It's way cool! I can't wait until I manage the funds to get out to Cali to meet her face to face. I'm sure my squeeeeee will be heard around the world ... and she'll shake her head in disbelief of my school girl greeting.

Now, don't forget to check out Popping Bubbles . Without her, I wouldn't be passing this award on to my 10 gals!

Your mission, should you choose to accept it:

If you want to pass the Sisterhood award along to your own favorite lady bloggers, the rules of this award are simple:
1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs which show great Attitude and/or Gratitude!
3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Don't make me hit you!

I strongly dislike grocery stores. First of all, most of them are so vast that I need to pace myself and hydrate as if I'm about to participate in a marathon. Then, there's the price comparisons. I know I should take advantage of coupons, but obtaining coupons means buying the Chicago Tribune or some Sunday paper. No offense to my journalism pals, but I find newspapers cumbersome and can't read them unless I'm on the floor and have room to sprawl out. Anyway, I digress. I have a very apathetic approach to purchasing food items.
The truly annoying aspect of grocery shopping is the other consumers. I'm a single mom with a very well behaved child. He's 14 and practically self-sufficient. He'll lumber around the store with me with little argument. When he was smaller he was much more of a handful and I may or may not have left a full shopping cart, ice cream sandwiches and raw chicken and all, in aisle 8 to whisk my misbehaving toddler off the premises. There in lies part of my issue with grocery stores: other people and their children.
Screaming loudly and looking around to see if anyone notices troubles me. It's not the children scouring the passers by to see if their foul behavior is being noted. No, it's the parent who, in my humble opinion, should have been awake during the birth control section of health class. This is not active parenting in my book. Stop yelling. Stop threatening with violent actions. Stop physically assaulting your children whilst verbally assaulting them. Stop saying you'll leave and then don't! Oh, and don't give your over-tired toddler a Twinkie to appease them momentarily! I have shopping to do and clearly your trash talking toddler tactics don't work, you public pajama pant wearing, slipper scuffing, cigarette reeking cow!!
I do realize that having a brood of children close in age is a daunting task. Sometimes, there is no one available to watch the kiddies so shopping can't be accomplished quickly and without incident. I'm not judging those who choose to have a large family. It's understood that, despite the efforts to utilize modern birth control, it is not a fail safe. Parenting can be taxing. Until recently, I can't recall the last time I had a full night's sleep since Mancub was born. It's a parenthood thing.
My concern is how it seems these parents, who's behavior I described above, are taking out their anger on the children. If these parents are cruel in public, what sort of behind closed doors abuse are those kids enduring? There's a much bigger picture here that I am not equipped to delve into. I'm only discussing my personal observations and concerns.
I'm fortunate that I have mastered "the look" with Mancub. I learned it from my father. That man had a look that could stop a stampede. It's a look that lets Mancub know I'm the one in charge and I make the rules. He understands body language. Perhaps we are just gifted and extremely in tune with each other. That's not to say he didn't throw tantrums early on in his life. However, during those outrageous acts of defiance (and later learned, overly stimulating situations) I removed us to spare embarrassment. I later learned how to diffuse the situation before it escalated. I wanted my little boy to function in various environments. My education in parenting is never ending. Being an adult doesn't automatically make a person a good parent. DUH! Right?!
What this mini rant all boils down to is that I'm out of coffee, eggs, flour, chicken, etc... and I don't want to go to the grocery store!!! In my universe, it's all about me ::smirk::

I would never attempt nor desire to minimize obvious child abuse or neglect. I have no fear of stepping in. This post is the result of me needing eggs to make banana bread. My posts are often the nothing more than the result of my brain puking.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Tickled pink with kindness

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Valentine's Day, you know the day I love to hate, turned out to be something fantastic. First came the handmade card from Mancub (Yes Lydia, I will post the real thing soon.) That in itself helped turn the heart-filled day around. Then, I got to work and no one irked me right out of the gate. Again, this is something unprecedented. So, you might want to make a side note on your calendar about that. As many of you know, I am not wholly fond of everyone with whom I work. Go figure! Yeah, like I'm the only person who has daydreams of tripping co-workers and kicking them while they are down. Or, ever so lovingly tapping them with the bumper of my car. Psh!
The next thing that helped make the day less regrettable and annoying needs some explaining. So, here goes...
A couple of years ago I bought a fellow lab tech a birthday card and passed it around to be signed (we look out for our own unlike the retail staff.) Another birthday rolled around and I did the same thing. Someone commented about how special that card seemed. It suited the receiver perfectly. Birthday by birthday I found myself repeating the same thing. I compiled a list of birthdays for our entire staff and began posting the birthdays monthly. About a week before the birthday boy or girl's day, I would buy a card and pass it around to be personalized with sarcasm, wit or simply a signature. I enjoy doing it because I fully believe the date a person greeted the world for the first time should be celebrated. Each of us has touched the lives of others regardless in some capacity. Even if I'm not particularly fond of someone, I still feel their birthday deserves recognition. After all, without the annoying shlock, how would I have more appreciation for the people I do like?
Back to Valentine's Day 2009. I was eating my lunch at the same time the retail manager and general manager were dining. One of our doctors joined us. Typically, I like to eat my lunch alone. I rather enjoy the silence. Saturdays do not provide me with solitary dining. I finished devouring my chicken sandwich and still had some time to kill. So, I remained in the back and took part in the blathering. It happens. I'm not always prickly. After a few minutes I realized it was time for me to clock back in and get to work. Before doing so, I wanted to check my cell phone for missed calls or texts (hey! it could happen.) The lockers are in the break room. The general manager asked the doctor to ask the other supervisors to come back to the break room. My assumption was that they were calling an impromptu meeting while we were all together on the same day. While I was attempting to text a friend a Valentine wish, out of my peripheral I saw the management brood carrying what appeared to be gifts. What the ... ?
The gifts were for me. With tears welling in my eyes, I asked "what for?" I've made it a point to never let them see me cry. That was the past. At least temporarily. They declared they wanted to show me how much they appreciated how I took on the birthday announcement and purchasing cards over the years (I don't expect nor do I want to be reimbursed for the cards. It's my thing.) Through the fog of tears I heard one of them tell me how my cards are often the only personalized wishes some people get and it makes a world of difference on morale.
Included in my bevy of gifts was a PINK Build-a-Bear monkey; a little bottle of champagne with disposable glasses (not to be consumed on the premises); my favorite candy in the world -- Fanny May fruit slices and popcorn cups filled with candy and a movie theater gift card to be shared with Mancub. Then, add to the goodies another gift bestowed up on me Monday. My co-lead tech gave me a little plaque that reads "I can only compensate so much for your STUPIDITY!" Upon delivery she said she had to buy it because it sums up my attitude perfectly. ::sigh::
The funny thing about the monkey is that about a month ago my lab manager handed me a Build-A-Bear brochure asking me what item I felt another co-worker would like. He said he wanted to make her feel special since she seems to go unnoticed. While perusing the pamphlet, I cooed over the silly cuteness of the pink monkey. Without realizing it, I was selecting my appreciation gift! Yeah, I'm a dork.
I'll be adding a thank you card to my stack of birthday card purchases. I wonder if they have one that says, "I appreciate your generosity and gratitude towards me. However, don't think this is going to make me like you any more -- but it will prevent me from liking you less. For now." HA (I kid!)

Saturday, February 14, 2009

the BEST gift EVER

Here is the key for a single mom to forget how much she loathes Valentine's Day:

  • Be a 14 year old boy who seems absorbed in his own video game playing world
  • Take an ordinary piece of copy paper
  • Fold it in half length wise
  • Fold it again, downward
  • Write on the front "Dear Mom, I hope you like this gift, (open)"
  • Flip it open (length wise)
  • Write at the top of the page, "It's the best that I can give."
  • Write on the lower half of the folded sheet "I hope you like it because ..."
  • Unfold the page so it is flat
  • Write at the top "...because it's my heart ..."
  • Draw a big red heart in the center of the page
  • Write at the bottom "... Happy Valentine's Day!"
  • Refold it so it appears to be a card
  • Give it to your mother and watch her cry

Friday, February 13, 2009

The Game of Life comes with no rule book

It's not that I hate men. I'm far from ready to don some Birkenstocks and join the Indigo Girl caravan. I still dig doin' the deed with dudes.
I spent the day lamenting over what my Valentine's Day post would be about.I considered rehashing what could possibly be wrong with me or the men I date or , this or that. I wasn't going to throw a pity party. Nope. Valentine's Day is a most certainly a reminder of my singlehood. But it's not what I wanted this to be about. I see the guys scrambling around the mall finding gifts to appease the lovely lady in their lives. I can see the beads of sweat building on their furrowed brows as they sign the finance papers at the jewelry store across the hall. Yikes!
Perhaps we should begin at the beginning.

Believe me when I say I seem to make friends more readily with the male of the species than I do with females. Maybe it's because, while still a very young girl (age 4ish), my closest friends were boys (and one girl who would give Peppermint Patty a run for her money.) I had no issues climbing trees and racing against them on my Big Wheel. Shut.Up! Those things rocked at 7:30 a.m. on a summer's day. I had female friends, too. However, in my formative years, boys were always prevalent buddies.

I know I look totally girly and frilly on the outside. I am vain. I do my hair and put on make-up. I love the color pink and wear it often. However, underneath the smell good stuff, body lotion and pearlized lip gloss beats the heart of a tomboy; a girl who likes to hang with the boys and cut-up like a boy. I'm perverse and vulgar. I'm crass and swear like a trucker.
By the same token, I shoot from the hip. I prefer not to mince words because being diplomatic all the time is exhausting. It's preferred, by yours truly, to be up front with who I am. I can't play the cat and mouse games. Upon numerous occasions I have read and been told that men love the thrill of the chase. Ok, groovy, but once you're caught doesn't that mean the thrill is gone? Like I said, let's cut through that mess and just get to the being caught. Trust me, the thrill ride begins there. Since I've not been given a rule book, I refuse to play the game. Sorry! I am one of the lunatics who reads instructions.

Is it presumed that all people in the beginning of courtship -- for lack of a better term -- is when they are guarded and on their best behavior? And if it is assumed that the real me (from the beginning) is actually the good behavior Riss that the men I date wonder when the other shoe might drop and some alien psycho beast will emerge from the pod?

I just gave you a lot to chew on. You might want to take a bathroom break or get a drink. A stiff drink.
Several years ago a friend, married and male, told me that it'd take a mighty special dude to match me in personality. He said his wife was very much like me in that she cut through the bullshit and presented him with a full course of herself. He found it refreshing. He also admitted that it took him off guard, but it didn't chase him away. I often turn to that assessment for reassurance.
Gah! I wrote all of the above a few hours ago and stopped. My phone rang and I saved this to resume later. During the course of the conversation my caller said to me words that I've needed to hear. I've heard the words before, but he said them to me in a manner that sounded familiar. His words were very near to what I would have told my dearest girl friend.
To paraphrase: Go out. Meet people. Set no expectations. Stop limiting yourself.
Duh! Happy Valentine's Day everybody! I think I'm in love! WITH ME!!!

A perfect couple

Friday the 13th and Valentine's Day. For this girl, they make a perfect pair. Look for more on this subject later. Until then, I give you this song. Coincidentally, this song was released in 1983 when I was wide eyed and ready to take on the world at age 18. If I knew then what I know now, well, I'd still be in the same boat. It's all still a mystery.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

File it under ... ?

Let's see. What shall I slap out here for your reading pleasure?
I logged on to a blog where I often comment to discover I had been either doinked or the comment got lost in the blogosphere. This is a first for me (that I'm aware of). So, it's definitely raised an eyebrow. Rather strange since I saw it there for a couple of hours after making the remark, but I know these things happen. I didn't ask about it. I guess I'll just chalk it up to improper use of an asperand. It seemed fitting since breasts were involved in the post title. I'll file it under: Unsolved mystery (mystery solved. The blog author explained the situation. Do not panic. Do not be concerned. ALL IS WELL good people. )
I met my sister over at her old house to help do more sorting of all things pack-ratted and left behind. I can honestly say it felt like we got little accomplished. I did, however, come home with a couple additions to my wardrobe, martini and wine glasses, and lung full of ick. The house hasn't been occupied in several months. I'll file it under: in the name of love.
I picked up my mail and found a super surprise (actually, I knew it was coming.) I received honey from a fellow plurker. It's not that stuff you find on the shelves in the cute little honey bear container. This is honest to goodness real honey made by the bees she tends to. How fantastic is that?! I LOVE HONEY. I can't wait to make a cup of tea, put some on my whole wheat English muffin or just take a teaspoon for the pure enjoyment of it. I'll file this under: kindness sweeter than natural honey.
Tonight is American Idol night. It's a real bonding time for the Mancub and me. He's catching on to the snarking aspect of viewing. He's come up with some major league zingers. There's one crazy chick named Tatiana. Her laugh is obnoxious and last week she went One Life to Live dramatic in her praise of God for being allowed to stay in the competition. Her fellow group members, with wide eye glares, were surely contemplating homicide. She's assured a spot as one of the most memorable nutjobs to make it to Hollywood. Tonight the *cough* esteemed *cough* judges will decide the fate of her and the other hopefuls. I'll file this under: I have no life.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Sunday Surprise!

I woke up rather early for a Sunday. While most of the world was still in snooze mode sleeping off the night of frolickery and fun, I was in bed trying to shut out the feline blowing her kitty breath in my face. Mo-mo cat is the more quiet of the two mew-mews we love and adore. It's a rare occasion for her to awaken me let alone jump up on my bed. I guessed my presence was required at her food dish. I was wrong. Whatever the reason for her to rudely rouse me from my slumber, I was up.
Rather than follow my typical Sunday ritual of total silence, coffee and this blog, I turned on the television. Clicking guide, I scrolled until something fantastic caught my eye! PILLOW TALK was on AMC.

On January 25, I posted a blog about this utterly delightful Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie. Could it be that the powers of programming heeded my call for guilty pleasures and simple memories of childhood? I realize it's highly unlikely, but damn if the thought hadn't crossed my caffeine deprived brain.
So, the moment of serendipitous fantasy was immediately shaken off to be a silly notion, but it did make me wonder just who might be the readers behind the numerous clicks on the hit counter.
Thanks for reading, cool-cats and kittens!
*this thanks doesn't include stupid shmucks who can't take a direct "beat it!" as a hint*

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Go away, shmuck, you bother me

Being a member of the blogosphere is very similar to opening your curtains and turning on all the lights in the dark of the night and prancing about in your totally nude. Or at least in your Fruit of the Looms. OK, there are some of us (you) who are fully dressed but parade around in your domicile hoping a crowd will gather on your behalf. You're fully aware that the neighbors and passers by will see you strutting about in your Lady Godiva glory. You welcome it!
Blogging is something of which nearly everybody and their brother participates. I have 9 siblings and, to my knowledge, only three or four of us regularly and ritually blog. I'm getting off track. So, stop me whenever I start going into the grassy knoll of my brain, k? Thanks.
I am not a stranger to drawing attention to myself. Ask any one of those 9 siblings of mine what I was like as a child or how I behave at family get-togethers and each one of them will have a tale of Rissy being dramatic. It's what I do. No, I don't cause trouble, but I am prone to bursting into song. I prefer to be non-confrontational. What I have is a boisterousness that can drown out our entire brood when necessary. It is then they pretend I'm some alien planet inhabitant that managed to ease its way into the fold. Whatev! It's not like such antics are displayed in public. I do have a sense of decorum.
In the crazy blogging world of the Internet, I let my hair down. I try to respect the boundaries set by the author of the blog before I get all wildhairish. Take Sean Daly's Pop Life, for instance. I pretty much let it all hang out without being overtly vulgar. I am prone to tip toeing on the gutter side of life with infusion of double entendre and innuendo. It's not like I'm the only person who is on board with that. It's a matter that it's my niche.
I am, without a doubt, a semi-open book. I don't throw it all out there for your perusal or scrutiny. I have some shame and humility. I'd like to be one of those people who can just spew everything that's a part of my past and present, but I don't. C'mon, I"m not an idiot!
What you see is what I choose to allow you to view. From my vulnerabilities to my first thing in the morning appearance, you have been welcomed into my world. I'm grateful it's all been kindly received. Clearly, the haters have opted to take the high road. Which is nice. Well, it's that or no one hates me and all those years of eating worms was for naught.
Giving readers subjects they can relate to or even mildly amuses them makes me feel like I'm doing my part to help humanity while working through my own Rissues. What bothers me (and I'm getting to the whole point of this particular post) is when a person thinks I'm joking when I have told him to beat it. To paraphrase, "We live in different worlds. I no longer want to pretend you could ever be part of my world. Please, leave me alone." Any and all emails delivered to my mailbox have been deleted. I do not even bother to see what he has to say.
I know this blog leaves me wide open like Bambi's momma. I realize that anytime I subscribe to a particular website such as Facebook, Imeem, Pandora or Netflix, I am putting parts my life out there for public view. Regardless of privacy settings, people can snoop. I enjoy becoming acquainted with people who share my interests. It's not that for which I am about to complain.
The creepiness and irritation factor comes in when someone feels the need to send me messages about movies that I have received from Netflix. Messages aren't sent via the website. The notes arrive via Yahoo instant messenger offline. This person, as I stated, was told months ago that our relationship was no longer viable. Friendship or otherwise, I was not interested. He is someone with whom I shared an intimate relationship. If you call doing the horizontal bop repeatedly a relationship. Yes, we had many conversations between and out of the sheets. But that ended a long time ago. I wasn't interested in the sordid expectations. I tried to be a friend only, but reminders of what we did together and what he'd want me to do in the future was always forced into what started out to be a normal situation.
By all rights, one might think this fellow is a stalker. My thought is that because he has wealth, resources and opportunity, he can do what he pleases. That includes spying on women who no longer require his presence.. He's letting me know that he can still get to me if he wanted to. We've not seen each other in well over 8 years.
So, to him I say this: I know I'm quite the minx, but give it a rest, will ya!? I was and am serious. I'm not flattered in the least.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Happy February or what's not to love?

There are two things very apparent from reviewing this video: Turtlenecks are not flattering on me and I make some seriously screwed up faces. What's not to love?!?
This was intended to be a perky welcome to the month that is the shortest on the calendar, celebrates love and Black History Month. The results are anything but chipper. Watch.