Tuesday, March 30, 2004

That Amy makes a damned good hot pocket. (Excuse me, "pocket sandwich".)

I need to photograph something else with my phone. The poop on the left is really getting old. And gross. Right now, someone is eating lunch... and in a little while, depending on her digestive tract speed, she will make her way to the bathroom at her workplace...

I have gotten up before 6:00 am for the past three days in a row. It whips me. Again, proof that I'm not yet ready for children. I find myself doing that a lot, actually -- looking at the patterns in my life, things I want to do, sleeping patterns, work habits, etc., and constantly reminding myself that I'm not ready for children. Why am I doing this? Is my biological clock having an ongoing conversation and argument with my mind? Because I rarely feel or hear the clock ticking... so why this need for reinforcement that IT'S NOT TIME, DAMN IT! Mother nature (and Mother Culture) are both evil to women, if women allow them to be. What I'm saying is, I allow them to be...sometimes.

I have to do my taxes. Tonight. That's all there is to it. I am THE Procrastination Princess.

That's all I've got. More later, perhaps.

posted at 1:00 PM

Monday, March 29, 2004

See What Brown Can Do for You.

If you can't bear to read about poop, feces, shit, turds, public restrooms, whatever, don't read further than this. But this, honey, has to be said. Or written. Whatever.

I just went into the restroom at my office. Now, I should state up front that this is something I usually have to do while practicing breathing exercises and chanting (sometimes counting) in my head to get past my public restroom issues. But today... ohhhhh today.... TODAY is the reason why I hate them. My experience today is the reason why people should be REQUIRED to shat at their flat, rather than in public.

But, as luck has it, and as nature takes time to push fluids through your body, I need to pee every day around 1:20 pm.

So I walk into the restroom, and I notice one of those yellow "CAUTION!" stand up things. You know, those things they use to warn you when the floor is wet so that you don't sue the place for mopping during business hours while you're living a life without grace (like myself) which is worsened on slippery surfaces... Then I notice that one of the doors is propped open. By one of those janitorial service-mop squeegee things. In my stall. The one I always go to.

I walk past. Breathing. Breathe in, breathe out...
But thinking, I've GOT to know what's in there! Curiosity. It ran over this cat going 120 mph in a bulldozer.

Against my better judgment, I peered into the stall to see what the hell was going on in there. I swear to God at this point I was wondering if I was on some hidden camera show. I still think I might be... as I'm typing this here and now there is a camera on me... I digress. And I'm dramatic.

Back to the story at hand.

I peer in. There's SHIT ON THE FLOOR! Literally, HUMAN TURDS ON THE FLOOR OF THE BATHROOM STALL!! And someone STEPPED IN IT! Someone pooped on the floor.

I can only assume it was because she was hovering like some of you females do, for fear that you'll pick up the clap or AIDS, or acne or hair loss, or something from that cursed toilet seat. And she missed. That's GOT to be it. If that's not it, then there is one screwy, sick-minded, bathroom deviant who works here who enjoys shitting on the floor of public places, stepping in it, and walking the halls of THIS particular building where I sometimes go without my flip-flops to the copy room.

The receptionist is appalled. The HR lady is thinking of sitting everyone down to discuss bathroom etiquette. Because apparently, THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAS HAPPENED. Who is it? WHO is doing it? By God they better find her, and she better get a good talking to.

I'm so nauseated and distracted now. And for those of you who want to respond with a "Lauri, you'll NEVER be able to have children" comment, you can keep it to yourself because you and I both know there's a difference -- cleaning up after someone who can't wipe themselves or who uses a diaper (babies and old people, I guess) is QUITE DIFFERENT than a working-aged adult shitting on the floor of a restroom that she shares with her co-workers.

Oh God. OH GOD. I can't take it anymore. I'm throwing myself out the window.

And I'm having someone go into the bathroom now and take a picture of it with my phone, just so you can see. My God there has never been a time that the photo phone thing and the blog unite in such wondrous harmony.

posted at 2:08 PM

Monday, Monday.

I seem to be able to update the blog from work, but not from home. But I don't have time here at the office to write anything. So this Monday morning brings you lyrics to a song I listen to almost every morning, getting ready for work.
Love those Mamas and Papas.

Stars shining bright above you;
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore tree.
Dream a little dream of me.

Say nighty-night and kiss me;
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.
While I'm alone, blue as can be,
Dream a little dream of me.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear---
Still craving your kiss.
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear,
Just saying this...

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you---
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you.
But in your dreams, whatever they be,
Dream a little dream of me.

Stars fading but I linger on, dear---
Still craving your kiss.
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear,
Just saying this...

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you---
Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you.
But in your dreams, whatever they be,
Dream a little dream of me.

Some other stuff:
- I was parked next to a Hummer H2 (that might be redundant, I'm not sure) in my parking garage last night and this morning. It dwarfed my car. But I felt as if my battered, broken Honda wanna-be SUV was *protected*. Like she had an over-protective boyfriend for the night.
- I really like Barry Manilow. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with my mama.
- I pick all the dates and peanuts out of my trail mix. Sometimes I count them. You know, if I've got enough time.
- I sliced my hand this weekend on a Mandolin slicer, slicing onions. Slice, slice, slice. And bloody onions. Literally, not in the British cursing kind of way.
- I dreamed about (1) an orgy, and (2) being pregnant last night. I can't even have good sex dreams without ruining it with some sort of consequence or something. I am one guilt-ridden sinner. Thought, word, and deed...

posted at 10:22 AM

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Just breathe...

Signs of stress:
- hives
- breakouts
- loss of appetite
- increased appetite
- yelling at people you otherwise have a good time with, love, and/or enjoy being with
- forgetting important dates or other responsibilities
- again, HIVES
- using all downtime for sleep

I should qualify the list above as not general signs of stress, but what living in my body has been like for the past two weeks.

I have a wonderful friend. Some words of wisdom and calming thoughts have made my day, and reminded me of just how thankful I am for having him.
It's dangerous to live your life without a will. Everyone needs one.

posted at 10:15 AM

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

Just FYI.

I do things at the office that I would never do at home. Things that I would also never do as a guest at someone's house.

On my way from the breakroom back to my desk, I pass through one of those doors that swings open and closed. When my hands are full (or even when they're not), I kick it open with my foot sometimes (kind of like a karate kick) to see if I can get through it before it swings back the other direction.

I've only hit someone on the other side once.

posted at 2:57 PM

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

My Tuesday Ramblings.

Today, as I was walking to my car in my parking garage, I noticed that the guy parked next to me had camouflage seat covers. This throws my practical thinking mind into a complete tailspin.

I had a doctor's appointment this morning that was a complete train wreck. First, they've lost my chart. Couldn't find it anywhere. They actually asked me if I remembered what some of my "levels" were in my last bloodwork. Now, I know that I keep a record of really insignificant, strange things in my mental rolodex, but come on... Second, I got an injection in my arm from the Injection Apprentice/Shot Virgin. I deflowered her and she left me with nothing but pain and suffering, with a band-aid slapped on it.

(I think that both "rolodex" and "band-aid" should be capitalized above. But I also wouldn't cap q-tip or kleenex. That's just the kind of rule-breaker I am. I'm OUT OF CONTROL! Somebody try to leash this rebel, I dare you!)

If you're the type of person who likes to add a lot of milk to your coffee to cool it down a bit, make it a little creamier, the way to order your beverage at Starbucks is "yada yada latte yada yada venti yada yada WITH ROOM". With room. I learned that this morning. Apparently, saying, "Leave about this much (showing the exact space between my thumb and index finger) at the top so I can add extra milk" is just too many words for them. These Starbucks coffee nazis, they operate and function using very few words, it helps with the profit margin or something.

(nazi is also supposed to be capped.)

Lovely day. Group hug, everyone.

posted at 9:31 AM

Monday, March 22, 2004

Running on Empty

You think you know what rest is, then you catch the 6:30 am flight home from Austin only to find that you're so damned tired you can't keep your freakin' eyes open in a meeting long enough to contribute a meaningful sentence to the conversation...

I had a good weekend. Did a little cooking, a little shopping, a little perusing the neighborhoods, a little scoping out, took in a little live music, a little movie watching.

Now I'm a little anxious. Not anxious-excited, more like the "anxiety" side of anxious. I'm not sure if it gets more redundant than that. Doubtful. Hopeful. A little freaked out. I have a lot of options to weigh. My cup runneth over with options. I'm just confused about some of them. Now. There you go. Now you're confused with me. Confusion loves company. Or something.

I honestly didn't know that when the newsman says, "We've deployed 20,000 troops to Iraq" that he means 20,000 people. I thought he meant 20,000 groups of people. Meaning, a troop is a group. Like a troupe. Like the Boy Scouts. Damn it! I should know these things. At least I know that buffalo don't have wings. Jesus, I've never felt like such an idiot. So, sharing my stupidity with the world of online blog surfers makes me feel much better.

I think my brain just officially shuts down, closes, goes out-of-business and starts offering its inventory at half-price when I overload it. I need a long bath. And a couple OF glasses OF wine.

Happy Monday.

posted at 1:34 PM

Thursday, March 18, 2004

Miss Pissy

I am grumpy today. I probably didn't get enough sleep last night, but that's not it. I can't put my finger on it, but I have this sneaky feeling that it's because I'm feeling as if some things are out of my control right now. A lot of things, actually. Lots of uncertainties in my life. I try to keep things so black and white, and DEFINED. I don't dabble in the gray, I never have. I label things and put them in jars, update them as needed. Never have all my jars been knocked off the shelf with their contents just sprawled on the floor like they are now.

While I have a lot of exciting things happening in my life right now, I can't help but feel a little anxious. Those exciting things have spawned all kinds of other things to consider. Decisions to make. Internal debates. Right vs. wrong. Fair vs. unfair. Bottom line, I don't like feeling dependent on anyone for anything, and I'm feeling that way about a few areas of my life right now. Waiting on others to make decisions before I can make mine. This is normal, I know. This is life. But it doesn't change the fact that it gets my panties in a wad every now and then. Panties: officially wadded.

I don't want to jinx some of those good things by posting them here just yet. (I know, this seems to be a recurring theme.) First, I think that I need to get my ducks in a better, straighter, OCD-like row before talking about some of it. Second, some of it's not for all the readers to read and know...and I know you're still visiting. Third, until I straighten some of this out, I don't want the whole world to know that this girl doesn't always have her shit together, I've got a reputation to uphold. ;)

My mother hates these cryptic posts. So do I. Welcome to the world of online journaling.

The weather is just too beautiful to be in this kind of mood. Plus, I'm wearing flip-flops. That's a sure sign that my warm weather dances are working. Warm weather definitely puts a smile on my face. Now, if I could just have a couple of glasses of wine...

posted at 12:15 PM

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

The Toxic Fume Gods are Smiling on Me

This morning, I looked outside at the beautiful, perfect Texas spring weather and thought, "I'd really like to work from home today. What a beautiful day." I get into the office...and people are standing/sitting outside. Some of them nauseated, some with headaches. As luck might have it, the office next to ours was doing some remodeling. At 4 am, they decided to put a sealant on their concrete floors, and it was seeping through our walls and vents. The smell was awful. Awful in a good way, of course. Like filling your car up with gas or using a Marks-a-Lot. I worked a couple of hours, thinking, "Am I not sick because I, at some point in my life, developed a tolerance to this stuff?" Then they decided to send everyone home. So, wish granted. Yeah!

Maybe I should do some gambling tonight, you know, with Lady Luck on my side and all.
I find it very strange that that's the first thing that comes to my mind when I'm having a "good luck situation". I need to find that 1-800 number again...

Good times last night at the hockey game, thanks to my friend Skaines. Awesome seats, five rows from the glass. How the Base scored seats like that, I'll never understand. Good game, and there was blood on the ice! Like my own little reality TV show, you know, watching someone hurt themselves or someone else hurt them or someone cry and claim to love someone after four days of knowing them... whatever. I digress. It was cool. And the drunk chick sitting across from us kept the entire section entertained. I hate drunk chicks.

Have a wonderful day, everyone! I might just put my pajamas back on. ;)

posted at 10:47 AM

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Let's Get It On

I can't quit listening to this song. For several reasons, I'm posting the lyrics. But reading them means nothing unless you can hear Marvin sing it to you. I love it.

I've been really tryin', baby
Tryin' to hold back this feeling for so long
And if you feel like I feel, baby
Then, c'mon, oh, c'mon

Let's get it on
Ah, baby, let's get it on
Let's love, baby
Let's get it on, sugar
Let's get it on

We're all sensitive people
With so much to give
Understand me, sugar
Since we've got to be here
Let's live...
I love you.

There's nothing wrong
With me
Loving you,
Baby no no
And giving yourself to me can never be wrong
If the love is true
Oh baby.

Don't you know how sweet and wonderful life can be?
I'm asking you baby to get it on with me
I ain't gonna worry
I ain't gonna push, I won't push you baby
So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby
Stop beatin' 'round the bush

Let's get it on
Let's get it on
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout
C'mon, baby
Let your love come out
If you believe in love
Let's get it on
Let's get it on, baby
This minute, oh yeah
Let's get it on
Please, please get it on

I know you know what I've been dreamin' of
Don't ya baby?
I'm feeling love...
My body wants you
I ain't gonna worry
I ain't gonna push, I won't push you baby
So c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, baby
Stop beatin' 'round the bush

Oh, gonna get it on
Threatnin' you, baby
I wanna get it on
You don't have to worry that it's wrong
If the spirit moves you
Let me groove you good
Let your come down
Oh, get it on
C'mon, baby
Do you know the meaning?
I've been sanctified
Girl, you give me good feeling
So good...

Nothing wrong with love...
If you want to love me...
Just let yourself go...

posted at 3:10 PM

Friday, March 12, 2004

My neighbors surely think that I'm a 50-something year-old woman, given the music that I play so loudly each morning while getting ready for work... A little Marvin Gaye, some Commodores, The Supremes, The Four Tops.

I think I need some Sexual Healing, Baby Love.

Motown gets me moving. My mama taught me well.

posted at 7:58 AM

T minus 10 hours until Weekend Launch Process Begins

My brother sometimes sends me quotes from church signs he sees on his journeys through the Bible Belt. I can't wait to see what he does with this one.

Friday. I thought you'd never arrive.

I woke up extra early this morning, excited for some reason. I think it's because tomorrow I'll be picking up my sister-in-law and my niece from the airport and heading home for the weekend. I can't wait to see them, it's been too long. I'm ready to spend some time with my family. I miss all of them.

I've got a lot to do between now and then, though. First and foremost, I've got to do my Warm Weather dance to prove to the weather gods that I am, in fact, ready for higher temperatures.

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

posted at 7:16 AM

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

All Nighter

I haven't had to work more than 15 hours in one day in a while... and my body hurts today because of it.

There's this thing I do. I'm sure everyone does it. But I became conscious of it this morning. When I'm doing something that I know I should be telling myself not to do, I always tell That Person in my life, who I know will set me straight, that I'm doing whatever it is I'm doing that I shouldn't be doing. "That Person" is someone different in each situation. Last night, it was Louie. No one wants me to not "make work my life" more than Louie, except my mother. And in this particular situation, I couldn't tell mom, because she would have freaked out, fearing for my safety, knowing that walking to and from the office, my car, and my apartment at such a late hour is just "asking for trouble".

Anyway, I do this. I put things out there for people so that they will lecture me. I need a good lecture every now and then. Or as my dad used to call it, "a good talkin' to". Relationships that I find myself in that are self-destructive -- I talk a lot about those so that I can get these "sanity checks" from people I know will tell me their honest opinion about what the situation looks like from someone's eyes that aren't my own. Work, illness, you know, all that stuff. This is not a sign that I can't make decisions on my own or that I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life...I think it's a tribute to what great friends and family I've got. They're awesome, all of them.

The other good thing about my loved ones...they inevitably do something, large or small, to make me feel better when I'm feeling not-so-good. So full circle...after unloading on Louie last night that I was at work until 1:30 am, putting in 15 hours yesterday and feeling the pain...I get this message from him this morning:

"what did you do this morning? you should have taken a long morning and gone
to the YMCA and worked out or something. maybe you did, maybe you had a
nice little morning planned, went over to pier one, or maybe home depot, or
the Y, i don't know, i don't know if you had enough time."

I laughed so hard that others in the cubefarm started to complain.

So. Thanks, Louie. ;)

posted at 10:46 AM

Monday, March 08, 2004

Productive, Eventful, Thoughtful Weekend

More spring cleaning around the house, book club meeting, shopping, preparing for the Mexico mission trip, birthday party Saturday night, and I still managed to squeeze two movies in. "Starsky and Hutch" and "The Passion". A few words about each:

Starsky and Hutch -- not as funny as you think it's going to be. But I'll see anything with Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn.
The Passion movie -- this one left me a little uneasy. Very thought provoking. Very graphic, very violent. I think Mel could have made his point with about 20 minutes less of the blood and gore.


I love food. I REALLY love food. I love to cook. I love to dine out and have someone else cook for me. I love to buy food, I love to smell food, I love food. BUT. I've been loving it a bit too much lately, if you know what I mean. This past month has been a gorge fest for me. Gluttonous eating. My butt is expanding. My stomach is threatening a bulge. (My boobs, however, are getting bigger. God can be insanely unfair, you know?) So that's it. No more. No mas! I don't diet, that's for sure. But I will start living a healthier lifestyle. It was so EASY to get into the habit of eating what I wanted, when I wanted. Why is it so hard to turn the other direction? Why do I love my couch so much? I fear neglecting it, not wanting it to suffer because I feel need to be out doing something else besides lying on it, drooling on its pillows...

A lot of people have strange relationships with their furniture.

So there you go.

Oh yeah, I'm also through with alcohol for the next several months. Not that I'm an addict or anything, not that I've got "a problem" or anything, and this is actually not a choice or sacrifice I'm making of my own insistence. Just something I have to do for a little while. Saturday night was the true test. Birthday party. Music playing, bodies moving, lots of dancing, lots of drinking, lots of fun. And I remained...The Designated Driver. Felt good. Felt even better the next morning.

Rainy days and Mondays always get me down. Thankfully, today's just a Monday, so I'm good. ;)

Have a good one!

posted at 8:33 AM

Friday, March 05, 2004

Wonderful Birthday!

Nothing's better on a birthday than getting a voicemail from an adorable 3 year-old telling you to have a happy birthday and that he loves you.

Turning 28 isn't so bad, I guess. Especially when you've got great family and friends like I do. :)

posted at 9:55 AM

Thursday, March 04, 2004


When I was in the 5th grade... on my birthday... I got my first music cassette tape... and a jam box... from my parents...

Beastie Boys - License to Ill

posted at 5:22 PM


posted at 10:21 AM

Monday, March 01, 2004

Wha-a... What?

I really had a wonderful weekend.

I just can't pick one favorite "thing" that happened this weekend. The birthday party, meeting new people... The new shoes I bought... Laughing hysterically at movie lines to the point of making everyone in the restaurant terribly uncomfortable and more than likely questioning whether or not they needed to come over to the table to administer the Heimlich maneuver... Sunday morning Tim Russert harassing the bishop... I just don't know.

I know that I haven't laughed like that in years, and it felt good. Tears rolling down my cheeks, difficulty breathing, next day abdominal pains. And the shoes, well, words can't describe them. And Tim... come on, Tim. Do you really think there's a special place in hell for those priests?

But I feel if I don't pay tribute to my birthday dinner on Saturday night, I might just lose a friend. A friend who, without him, my life would be...well, it'd be incomplete.

The Clay Pit.
Hands down, the best meal I've had in a very long time. I have no idea what was ordered for me, I have no idea what I was stealing from someone else's plate. All I know is that the meal was simply divine. Damn it, Louie was right, right, right! He's never been more right on in his assessment of a food establishment. Or anything for that matter. He is the King of Fine Cuisine. I hope this paragraph pleases the court. I hope the italics really stress the strong emotion I feel when paying tribute to The Birthday Dinner. I hope this is sufficient.


posted at 12:10 AM