Wheels on the karma bus go round and round
This weekend we went out to dinner (Buca di Beppo, where the waiter thought our group had ordered too much food and we proved him wrong, wrong and also WRONG) and a movie (Pirates of the Caribbean #3, which was awesome and featured a strangely hot Orlando Bloom) with a group of friends to celebrate Freckles' birthday (I gave her a super adorable purse, and also gave myself one from the same collection, because I have NO CONTROL when it comes to purses). It was really a rollicking good time, featuring conversations about sinking boats at Disneyland and certified mail for crackheads. It also featured a really good hair nught for me, which led to yet another picture where I look downright adorable and my husband looks completely smarmy and leering. That seems to be our photgraph M.O. these days.
Anyway, since it was opening weekend of POTC (as the hip kids will call it in their text messages), we had to stand and wait in line for our seats. In a very long line, which wound in front of like 5 other theaters. And the theater closest to where we were standing was playing Shrek 3 (which I do not need to go see because my mother will buy it, as she does every other animated movie aimed at children) (I do not know why she does that, she just does), so there were tons of parents coming through herding children.
I heard a guy say "Just follow Mom, please" in a somewhat exasperated yet totally familiar voice as he corraled two young girls. And as I looked up at him, I realized that the guy was Todd. Todd, the guy I shared a 3 year on again/off again, very dramatic, very dysfunctional relationship that ended quite spectacularly in a scene filled with yelling, crying and even throwing of books (and later, metric tons of guilt being thrown by both sides, culminating in an ill-advised 6 months of "secretly" sleeping together and pretending our friends didn't know). I haven't talked to Todd since 2003, when he hit on me after we'd hung out with a group of mutual friends at a bar (right after which I shot him down, since I was, of course, already with Kevin at that point). I've heard updates through the grapevine though, so I knew he'd gotten at least partial custody of his daughter, and that he'd gotten married last June (and yes, I did take a little too much glee in knowing that I got married before him, ha ha!).
Anyway, by the time I realized it was him, he'd already walked past us so I couldn't stop him and introduce him to my (totally way more awesome than him) husband and (really more entertaining than his were) friends. Kevin didn't even manage to get a glimpse of him before he was gone. Eh, it's probably just as well. It's not like we'd have anything to talk about anyway.
But it was strange, having that bit of my past walk by like that. And it wasn't a tiny bit of the past; Todd and I were living together when we broke up. He was my first real relationship out of college and when he left me, I thought I would be alone for the rest of my life. I realize now that he was my practice relationship. We were impossibly bad for each other, and we spent so much time trying to make ourselves fit together that we couldn't see that. Doesn't mean I don't still want to stick my tongue out at him and go "Nyah, nyah! I'm way better off without you!", but that is because I am essentially a 12 year old holding a grudge when it comes to Todd.
So really, it's just as well that we didn't actually speak with each other. I would have hated to regress like that in front of my friends. Besides, I think the child herding and having to sit through Shrek 3 on a Saturday night was probably karma enough for him.
But there are NO RIBBONS involved
Today I had a guy tell me he wanted to file a complaint with our facilities people because they moved a box that they weren’t supposed to.
A box that he moved into his new office before they moved out the stuff belonging to the person still in there.
A BOX HE DID NOT MARK.
Apparently, he wants to complain that our moving crew is not psychic or able to see through boxes.
My friend pointed out that it takes all kinds. And apparently one of those kinds is meant to drive me CRAZY.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *The weekend was nice. Busy, as usual. Involved too much money spending, as usual, but that was only because I went to the scrapbook store. I have Issues, I know. Because not only do I scrapbook, I can drop $30 on STICKERS. But hey, what can I say? The scrapbook store has tons of alcohol-related stickers, which comes in handy when half the pictures you are scrapbooking have really drunk people in them.
People always look at me funny when I tell them I scrapbook, but I have a handy ability to cut them off from making fun of me by mentioning that we always have both booze and cupcakes at our gatherings. And that we are the kind of women who scrapbook drunk outings to clubs and naked strippers at bachelorette parties. Oh, and we sit around and talk smack about people. So basically, scrapbooking is our excuse to gossip, compare stories about drunken escapades, eat cupcakes and drink Smirnoff Ice.
Wow, that does not make it sound any better does it? But who fucking cares, it's a damn good time.
Other than that, we headed over to Casa De Moms yesterday for dinner out in their
glorious new yard. Free food + nice view = good times, especially when you are broke because dude, Chicago. And also new bowling ball.
Because yes, we bowl. And I scrapbook. And we love cheese. Oh, and I also play Bunco. BUNCO!
Are you beginning to see why we need to move to the Midwest? Because seriously, it's like we already live up to half the stereotypes. Plus, I look really cute in snow gear.
Internet=Love
The internet is an amazing, wonderful thing (in case you hadn't noticed). Even if you're not into downloading millions of gigabytes of porn and you could care less about Wikipedia and YouTube, it's still fantastic.
It's fantastic because if you hang around long enough you'll find your Internet Tribe hanging around too. And you'll start emailing each other and maybe talk on the phone a few times and then you'll meet in person and next thing you know, they're convincing you to go to Chicago with them, where you will meet Awesome Internet Superstars like
her and
her, which is just the cherry on top of getting to spend a weekend drinking and singing and dancing and shopping and having food orgasms with your Internet Tribe. And you know they're your Tribe, because when you're together there is no such thing as too many hugs, you can't stop laughing because everything is funny, and you feel loved and adored and gorgeous and clever.
And then you head home, sad because your Internet Tribe is scattered all over the country so you can't be together all the damn time like you wish you could. But you have tons of
memories and
photographic evidence to get you through to the next time you can get together.
And then, when you get home, something AMAZING happens. Another
member of your Tribe, someone who's been there with you since the very beginning way back when you first dipped your toes in the big bad 'Net ends you an email that makes you kind of teary and super excited because yay, you get to stand next to her when she marries her true love because she wants you to be her maid of honor. And of course you say yes, because she is your doppelganger, your East Coast Twin, and you love and adore her and her fiance.
So today, I love the internet more than I love my new sparkly flip-flops, because the internet gave me my Tribe and all my flip-flops gave me was a little sparkle.
My husband says that just because I'm cute doesn't mean I'm not annoying
My birthday weekend can pretty much be summed up with one picture:
There are worse ways to celebrate one's 32nd birthday than to celebrate it with a pancake the size of a small European country while surrounded by good friends who are showering you with gifts like this:
I also got to go shopping with some of my birthday money, and on top of that I have oodles of gift cards to do MORE SHOPPING with. My friends know me well, I must say: toys, wine and gift cards to go shopping with are basically perfection.
The past year since my last birthday has been pretty much complete turmoil, and as a result I've let some friends drift (or be shoved) out of my life. I just don't have the time or the energy to deal with people who are so self-focused that they bring more turmoil to my life just by being themselves. Demanding that the world revolve around you and your beliefs or way of thinking is a really good way to make me uninterested in you.
But this weekend left me realizing that the friends I still have, the ones who have passed muster and made it through all the crap in each other's lives...they're really good ones. They're just good people to have around me and Sunday was just such a lovely time, being able to look around at these people I adore who adore me back so freely. but as happy and content as I am with my group of friends, sometimes they still amaze me.
Like my friend who is both a member of our bowling team and a fellow scrapbooker. I was bitching to her about how I have to somehow come up with $325 to pay the psychologist I have to go see to meet some insurance requirements for the surgery approval. I wasn't over stressed, since I do have an FSA account to repay me, but I don't have an extra $325 to throw around right now. So what does she do?
She writes me a check. No prompting from, she just offered to pay for it and let me repay her once my FSA reimbursement came in. As she put it, it's not like she doesn't see me every week so it'll be easy enough to collect on the debt. To her, it was not that big a deal, just a friend helping out a friend.
To me, it was huge. It's amazing to me that I have people who are willing to do things like this for me, especially considering that I have family members who wouldn't be willing to do it. and it made me realize (again) that I am so, so lucky, on this birthday as much as any ever before.
And not just because of the giant pancake.
And also, I'm buying more shoes this week
So. The Procedure went well and Kevin's fine. He suffered from a dull ache all weekend and it seems to have really been not that big a deal, just like everyone said. We did, however, discover that jock straps are hee-larious looking. When I told my friend Freckles that jock straps are funny, she asked me if they were like G-strings. No, they are not. As I told her, they greatly resemble butless chaps, only without legs, just straps. And they are hee-larious.
I am freakin' exhausted, people. We've had 6 new people start in the past two weeks, and everyone and their imaginary friends suddenly needed to book travel this week. People who have never traveled before and may never travel again needed to travel this week, including a guy who told me on monday that he needed to leave on...Monday night. I cannot wait for the other admin to come back next week. I have no idea how she covered my desk for me while I was on disability for 6 weeks, because 3 weeks was enough for me. Although really, it's been more like 5 weeks since she was gone for 10 days before that. So I guess I do know how she did it....very tiredly.
Anyway, everyone's been very patient and nice about asking for stuff but I am really ready to hand them all back to her on Monday and go back to my nice boring usual workload. My brain hurts from trying to keep all of it straight.
At least I have nice things to look forward too, like brunch with my friends to celebrate my birthday on Sunday. My birthday is actually on Saturday, but I pretty much hate celebrating it on my actual birthday because Cinco de Mayo in San Diego is a fucking ZOO, especially if it falls on a weekend. Because Cinco de Mayo + Saturday = thousands of people drinking ALL DAMN DAY and causing crowded restaurants and bad parking situations and a plethora of cops. So my actual birthday will isntead be celebrated quietly, at my mom's house, where I will eat corn on the cob and birthday pie. And my friends can come have a
rowdy brunch with me on Sunday instead.
I also have a little vacation to look forward to, which I probably can't afford since I just dropped $558 on more car repairs today. But fuck it, I need the damn vacation. Besides, maybe my permanent disability check will show up and then I will be able to afford the vacation that I totally fucking need right now.
In other news, the other day on my way to work I realized that I was wearing at least a few thousand dollars worth of jewelery that Kevin had given me (the latest addition being a gorgeous champagne diamond ring I got for our anniversary) and I realized I'm pretty fuckin' spoiled.
As Gene Simmons would say, it's good to be me.
