Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Vlog you!



My appearance is pretty rough in this one.  Part of my development and pursuit to happiness is being comfortable with myself.  Vanity is an element that I must face.  So, here I am post Turbo Fire Sculpt 30 workout.  My hair is thinning on the front and sides. I'm aware of it and typically do my hair in a manner which hides the tell-tale signs.  A few days ago the split ends pestered me each time I looked down at the hair laying across my shoulders.  Like an 11 year old the day before picture day, I took matters into my own hands. Armed with cheap barber scissors ... snip. snip. snipsnipsnip.  The following day all the crooked sins were evident.  Snippity snip again.  It's just hair, after all. Mine grows back at an alarming rate. It may be thin, but it grows like weeds.  While I'm on the subject of my hair, I have stopped coloring it.  Well, I've discontinued using a permanent hair color.  Instead, I use an ammonia free wash out formula.  At some point the true color of my hair will lurk beneath the rinsable color.  That's when I'll just let it all hang out.
Speaking of letting it all hang out ... I'm participating in Boobie-thon again -- click the icon in the upper right margin.  When Thelma and Louise are bared on the site I'll let you all know.   The idea is to get people to donate funds for breast cancer research while enjoying the photos of women who shed themselves of inhibitions (for a good cause).  Guys, you can contribute your awesome pecs, too!  Something for everyone. 



Saturday, September 25, 2010

Forget Candy and Ronnie

Rissy is so spaced out.  Today has been nothing but a challenge for me to keep focused.  I have no idea what is going on in my head.  It would be easy to use allergies as a scape goat.  PMS has come and gone. So, that's a no go.  Besides, I read on the back of my tampon box that women are prone to heightened intelligence when they are menstruating.  TMI? Get over it. You're on my turf, baby.

At work there was an overwhelming cacophony; stimulus overload. Several voices entwined with a new printer alarm, machinery being operated, phones ringing, fax machines tweeting and buzzing. Add that to the droning sounds of monotonous pop radio.  Egads! I wanted to scream at everyone in my path like Sister Mary Elephant.  Seriously. My pulse was racing. All I wanted to do was run.  RUN AWAY from all the noise and discord of the day. 

This week has been emotional for me.  Apparently my status updates on Facebook had a couple of my friends concerned for my mental well being.  It was merely par for the course of having to say good bye, once again, to someone dear to me.  Just when I grow accustomed to a smiling face and gentle embraces accompanied by face to face conversations, I have to let it go until the next opportunity.  It's difficult but not completely unbearable.  Oh sure, it sucks with a magnitude of a thousand blazing suns.  No sense in sugar coating it.  But like so many instances in life, I have to buck up and deal.

Perhaps all these chemical reactions triggered by my emotions (or denial there of) are catching up with me and manifesting into spaciness.  All I can request is that people speak concisely, softly and one at a time.  Thank you.  I cannot make promises that pity will be taken on those who are non-compliant.  May God have mercy on your souls.

That is all.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Inquiring Minds Want To Know

People often say to me, "Marissa, you're a fun girl. I bet you have a hellagood social life."

Here's photographic evidence of my Friday night.

"Best Friends Forever" -- Pinot Grigio et moi
You love me. You really, really love me.

Soon the numbness will set in
Viewing life through Pinot colored glasses

It's tricky

Blogging about one's life can be a sticky wicket.  Obviously, I don't lead a completely solitary life.  So, for that, writing about my daily adventures often brings other people into the picture.  I can change their names to protect the innocent (or not so much depending on the situation). However, it's not that hard to figure out who it is I'm making reference.  This is why my blog posts have been inconsistent.  You come here hoping for something new.  Your Google Reader doesn't show anything for Marissology. You swing by just in case it is a network glitch and .......... nada.

A week passes by and there is nothing posted.

What the hell?

Something that hasn't changed is my quest to be fit and healthy.  Slowly but surely my weight is dropping.  Jeans that are three sizes smaller than those in March, 2010 were purchased.  Yet, I don't find the need to report daily on my workouts or food intake.  There's more to my life than losing weight.  For me, constant fixation on that subject matter may make me appear self indulgent -- bloggers often are, as such -- but even more so, I would hate to come across like a know-it-all, former food addict, holier than thou convert.  No one wants someone else's life shoved down their throats.  I know I sure as hell do not ... unless it will make me laugh.  For the record, I know for a short time that is exactly what I was doing.  It is not innately me.  Doing that was as comfortable as wearing a pair of shoes that are 2 sizes too small. My apologies to those who were turned off by my single track of thought.

Now, back to me (That's tongue in cheek. Laugh, damn it.)

architecture Chicago river tour
For the past couple of weeks I was living a fantastical fantasy.  It's over until the next installment. That's about all I can share.  The city of Chicago was involved.  A lot of walking around the lovely, surprisingly clean city was part of the fantasy.  Even the weather succumbed to a supporting role in our one act play. Perfection.

Here's a little sum-sum that I can share:  A customer flirted with me in my place of employment.  NEWS FLASH! Alert the media. Yes, it can happen!! He wasn't pitifully unattractive.  He may have been mentally ill, but beyond that, it was a nice snack for my often times sickly ego.  I don't normally venture out from behind the glass wall of our laboratory.  On this particular day it seemed I spent very little time on my side of the glass.  In my quest to broaden my knowledge, it has become necessary for me to share myself with the public.  Let me just say that most of you (public) can be kind and agreeable.  But then there are those who think they can treat us common folk in the customer service industry like shitty little pissants. Stop it. If I ever take up voodoo or become a Wicca you're all in trouble. Pass it along.

Anyway, this guy underlined his phone number three times -- HIPAA laws prevent me from using it for personal use, however. I have a sneaking suspicion that he is flirty with nearly all walks of female species.  Still, it didn't take away from the fact that for a millisecond it made me giggly and blushing for an hour after his departure.

There you go.  A little snippet shared from the life of Marissa.  And a snap shot to boot!

Monday, September 20, 2010

I'm trying

The saying above was borrowed this from my cousin on Facebook. I saw it only moments ago.  It says exactly what Friday in Chicago was meant to be. 


Captured in time -- beautiful moments never forgotten

Monday, September 6, 2010

Ramble on: The Labor Day edition




The following is the remaining 2 minutes that wouldn't transfer in spite of how much work I put in to it... sheesh! OK, not that much work for someone who does video editing all the time. For a first timer it was tedious and frustrating. I hope you appreciate it.


Sunday, September 5, 2010

Adventures in the spin cycle

Oh, admit it. You've been yearning for more tales from the rinse cycle, haven't you?  Who am I to deny you of that which you crave.

It had been too long since I ventured to the land of the never ending quarter depository.  I think each machine should be equipped with a pull handle and spinning cherries, 7's, bars, and other assorted fruit graphics. Often, the risk you take when putting your coins in the washers and dryers isn't too far off from flushing your earnings into the poker slots at Empress Casino.  Worry that the dryer you select may be the one that melts anything not made of cotton even if 'cool' is pressed on the temperature buttons.  You're never sure what was washed previously when you slip the delicates into the wash basin.  For all you know the car detail business next door washed their carnuba wax coated buffer pads in that machine.

What's even more risky about doing business at the launderette isn't so much the equipment but the people encountered.  If you've been reading this blog for a couple of years you might remember Asshat Running Man.  It went from flattery to hmmm to full blown asshattery in a speck of time.  While some dating advice booklets might suggest the grocery store frozen section or the bookstore (not the self help section) is a great place to find a mate, the laundromat certainly is not. 

I have learned quickly that relations of even a friendly form aren't best found in the multi-unit laundorama. In fact, I don't even enjoy making eye contact with the strangers with whom I am forced to share air.  It isn't that I feel superior, but I've learned that the coin laundry spot isn't conducive to sharing ideas and theory.  When I overhear the use of phrases like, "those people" whispered and attached with a presumed knowing glare -- I wish that I'd brought my iPod earbuds.

In spite of my curt replies if I am addressed, there are patrons who are bound and determined to converse with me.  Once in awhile the woman who maintains the aesthetics of the 24-hour establishment comes in and I am happy to have a friendly exchange with her.  She's pleasant. 

Yesterday I woke early and had already packed the trunk the night before with nearly two weeks of dirty laundry.  Knowing well that it would take me at least two hours to complete the wash and dry, I set out before the rest of the world rushed to get the chore out of the way for the long holiday weekend.  Or so I thought. Just as I began loading the washers with my dirty duds, a truck backed up and stopped.  "ARGH!"  I literally said that out loud.  One of my baskets sat atop a washer opposite of where I stood. Unfortunately my lack of zeal for doing the wash mid-week led to the requirement of utilizing several washers.  Another reason for getting in early.  The man, who I would find out soon was 65, asked if I needed all the top loaders on that side.  He asked only because he was willing to use a front loader if necessary.  I like the top loaders over the big front loading machines because the spin cycle rids the clothes of more moisture thereby reducing drying time.  Seriously, there's a science to my methods.  I informed him that only 2 of the 6 were needed. 

"Crap!" I thought to myself.  Initial contact has been made and now he's going to talk my ear off.  I was spot on with my assumption.  Over the racket of agitating, water sloshing, clanking of the spin tub, he babbled at me.  I, unable to really hear him, nodded politely and smiled.  Over all the clatter I heard him ask if I was a college student.  I laughed and shook my head no.  This led to him stating that I looked like a college girl.  Then, inquiring about the kind of work that I do, I replied with a signal to my glasses, "I make glasses."  Again, with the din of the machines, I couldn't understand what he was prattling on and on about but I presumed it was his own vision needs.  It happens whenever people find out what I do.

At some point the sweet attendant came in to do her morning duties.  Always nice, she said hello to both the man and myself.  RELIEF! He followed her around with his coffee cup in hand.  Chatty Chucky was out of my hair ... NOT!

In the course of 2 hours I found out that he was married, but his wife was killed in a car crash 20 years ago in Chicago. Father of three and grandpa of two.  He also had a 'very foxy' 32 year old girlfriend. I chuckled at his use of the term 'foxy'.  Additionally, he insisted that men everywhere looked at him like he was the luckiest man alive.  The attendant was included in the conversation that, in spite of our efforts to change the subject matter, he always brought it back to younger women and older men dating.  Then the inquiries about my own dating life came around..  Resistance to ignoring the conversation was futile.  At one point I found myself explaining what a "cougar" was and how I resented being flung into that category based solely on my age and status of being single.  Efforts to derail the subject matter were pointless.  The attendant and I started talking about kids, schooling, and how much Kankakee is different from when (her kids) and I were growing up. Pervy Paul just wanted to ramble on about dating younger women and how he couldn't believe how young girls' looks are so deceiving.  He elaborated by telling us how he was talking to a young woman he assumed was at least 20.  "Nothing but talk, mind you," he'd insist.  But he found out that she was merely 16 and he was flabbergasted.  At one point he went to the bathroom where it was obvious he was throwing up.  The sound echoed through the facility.  The attendant and I exchanged a wide-eyed expression.  He'd emerge without having missed a beat of his thought. 

Eventually he'd get around to asking me what my boyfriend did for a living.  Remarking around the fortress of clothing that I'd hung up on the laundry rack, "there is no boyfriend."  This is where he took his opportunity to inform me that I should have no problem finding a man since I was such a looker -- foxy, even.

That is the point where I felt like convening to the loo to blow chunks but feared I might return to him rifling through my garments.  Ewwwww

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Re-heating my lukewarm eHarmony experience

It seems to be a common occurrence that eHarmony advertises a FREE weekend when a long holiday weekend approaches.  Those advertisements reminded me of my own experience with the dating website designed for truly deep connections.  Needless to say, that didn't pan out, did it? It's terribly pricey and I just don't deem it a necessary expense.  Plus, there was such a discord with the harmonious online match maker that I'm still left with its stench in my olfactory system.

Here it is.  Consider yourself warned -- smile.

My sour note with eHarmony aka Please pass the pooty wipes

I tantalized you with the promise of another vexxing tale regarding online dating sites in a previous entry. I didn't forget. The new year got in the way of my ability to write cohesively and/or coherently. I didn't get blown away wasted. Although, I did partake in a little adult beverage in the comfort of my humble abode. I'm not a party animal, although I'd like to play one on TV. The snow was falling with fierce intensity and there was no way I was willing to venture back into it. Not saying I had invitations for such plans anyway. I was settled in with the Man-cub for the night. I had worked all day, and was scheduled to work New Year's Day, as well. My intentions were to eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow I had to shovel myself out of the drift that blocked the garage door.

eHarmony's claim to fame is their patented Compatibility Matching System. You're asked a series of questions about yourself, your personal habits, past relationships, etc. It's a gruelling task, but with the promises of in depth analysis and matching, how could it go wrong? I tried eHarmony many years ago when it first made an appearance online. I couldn't afford the membership; therefore, no matches could be found. How nice, eh? This year, I opted to try it again because there was a free weekend over Labor Day Holiday. I figured it was worth a shot if it wasn't going to cost me an arm and a leg (and believe me, eHarmony isn't for a pauper's penny)! What it meant was that I was able to communicate with matches the system came up with for me.

I'm not often inclined to date men who are older. I don't know if I was left scarred over 20 years ago by falling for a man 10 yrs my senior or what. Once I was divorced, my eyes always seemed to be drawn to younger men. None were unlawfully younger, but at least 5 years my junior. Well, there was that one incident where I forgot my own rules and dated someone who was freshly awarded the ability to buy liquor legally.... I'll save that for another day.

The gods at eHarmony must have sensed my 'dating younger' failures and kept sending me possible matches who were more than 8 years older. That made me very hesitant, but what did I know? I'm still single and looking. Perhaps they were on to something I wasn't able to see. After all, I'd spent half a day filling out the bazillion point questionnaire. Surely they had more insight than I! The free weekend made it possible for me to jump the numerous hurdles necessary to have open communication where you are allowed to step out of the website and into your own email. Oooh, how exciting! Exciting like that first sniff of a new shower curtain.

Older men ... older men. You know, that idea was thrilling when I was a bright eyed 21 year old girl. The idea of dating an older man now just conjures up all sorts of imagery that I'm not sure my immaturity can handle. You know what I mean if you ever watched Sex in the City when Samantha dates an older man. Unhuh! That scene when his bare buttocks is walking toward the bathroom to take his Viagra. I don't want to offend anyone with my personal take on this, but seriously, I am having difficulty getting around that visual.

I pushed those horrid visions from my mind's eye and pursued communication with 5 men simultaneously. I got so confused. I had no photos in which to separate the men who were sending me wonderfully written messages. Receiving messages that conveyed well rounded literacy was truly awe inspiring. I'd had my fill of written exchanges with men who were incapable of forming a complete sentence. Their notes were filled with emoticons, innuendo and chatroom short hand. All in all, really more of a nuisance than charming. On a side note: I have a low tolerance for people who don't know the difference between your and you're, their, there, and they're, our and are. And I must insist that if you're going to brag about your cunnilingus skills, please spell tongue properly...not tounge. Is that the cross between a tongue and a lounge? Perhaps it is a hybrid word. I am unaware if it is. Thank you for allowing me that indulgence.

Back to my story. One man in particular was 50 years old, divorced, business owner, my height (5'11"), and lived within a hour's drive. His communication skills were impeccable. He added humor and sarcasm without use of Internet acronyms. He'd given me his work, home and cellular numbers. I was hesitant to call immediately. I waited a few days so not to appear overly anxious or desperate. Our first telephone conversation was polite, laughter filled and not too short, not too long. I'd say about 45 minutes in duration. He informed me that his work would take him out of town, but would love to have dinner, coffee, dessert in the near future. He continued to email me brief notes of acknowledgment. Our third at length phone conversation started to take a rather salacious flavor and it made me a little uneasy. Had I just been seeking a sexual conquest, that would not be an issue. However, this was an eHarmony match up and I had higher expectations for myself. I wanted to guide this on an ideal path for long term commitment. He had to know I wasn't looking for a playmate.

In that same call he suggested I might be a little uptight. I would never describe myself as such. I was on my guard and cautious. I'd allowed too much freedom of discussion early on in past pursuits. I decided a new pattern had to be set. He seemed to adapt to this format with some hesitation. He expressed that he was an open book and no questions were off limits. I asked him plenty about his marriage, companies, affiliations, etc... Because he had been so open with me, I welcomed his thoughts and questions.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until, out of the blue, he started discussing hygiene. He declared that personal hygiene was of utmost importance. I agreed that a smelly, unkempt individual leaves little to be desired. He chose to delve deeper into my own habits. I said I showered daily, sometimes twice if necessary (summertime sweat). I'm one of those people who needs to shampoo, rinse, repeat and condition everyday or I feel a major case of funk. It was then that he asked me this: When you use the bathroom, do you use a wet-wash towelette? I laughed heartily thinking he meant it as a joke. In a deadpan response he said, "I'm serious. Do you use a feminine towelette or wash cloth of some sort after using the bathroom?" I was speechless, and for those who know me, that doesn't happen often. I replied by asking, "what kind of question is that?!" He told me he was very oral and hygiene in that area was of utmost importance. UGH! I guess I ought not complain. Had we been communicating via instant messenger, I am certain he would have spelled tongue correctly.  Of course, the only sound he should have heard was the click of my phone.  I guess it shows just where my mind was or how pathetic/lonely/desperate I'd felt at the time.

I felt that judging him based on the wet-wipes question was unfair. But really, he hadn't lay eyes upon me in person and he was already talking about putting stuff on my stuff.  Eesh!  After that conversation we expressed a mutual desire to still meet in person. He informed me, again, he had to go out of town for a couple days, but upon his return would like to have a casual dinner. I told him my day off and said he'd get back in touch. I hadn't heard from him up until my day off. It was around 3:00 pm when the phone rang and it was him. "Hey! I just remembered I'd suggested dinner and it completely slipped my mind until now. Are you still up for it tonight?" That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I felt like an afterthought. I wasn't irritated that I hadn't heard back until that moment. I'm a fairly understanding person. I figured something had come up and his out of town business turned out to be more harried than expected. I just went on with my daily activities. I wasn't irritated until he seemed agitated that I couldn't just drop making dinner for my child and run to have a last minute dinner with him. This being our first face to face encounter, I felt it deserved to be more than a spontaneous thing. I knew I had to be the one to set a precedence. Needless to say, I never heard from him again. The delightfully composed emails came to a halt. His number never appeared on my caller ID again. Thank, God!

And, for the record, I do keep moist towelettes in the lavatory.
 

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Rules of the road .... the life edition

Good Morning Ladies, (and gentlemen)

I am in the 7%...


Written by a 90 year old

This is something we should all read at least once a
week!!!!! Make sure you read to the end!!!!!!



Written by Regina Brett, 90 years old, of the Plain
Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio .

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45
lessons life taught me. It is the most requested column I've ever written.

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is
the column once more:



1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are
sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to
disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying
alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first
paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is
futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up
the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no
idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you
shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye.
But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful
or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you
stronger.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood.
But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in
life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the
fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear
purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words
'In five years, will this matter?'

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your
business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will
change.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else
does.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because
of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of
it now.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying
young.

37. Your children get only one childhood.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you
loved.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting
everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw
everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all
you need.

42. The best is yet to come...

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and
show up.

44. Yield.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a
gift."

Its estimated 93% won't forward this. If you are one
of the 7% who will, forward this with the title '7%'.

I'm in the 7%. Friends are the family that we
choose.

A very dear friend sent this to me via email. Whether or not Regina is a real person or authored these rules to live by, it gives one plenty to think about ... to consider how much of our lives are played out worrying about what someone else does or has and measuring ourselves to that standard rather than marching to our own drum at our own pace.  Go out there and be passionate!