Vom

Sorry readers of my blog I've been too busy cleaning up cat puke and puking myself to write, back to real life tomorrow.

See you there.

I've Developed a Type

I'm not sure that this is a good thing, it rather limits my options but alas attraction is its own beast.

It's something I noticed a week ago, I was clearing trash while tying bows and I looked at the poor sucker I had dragged into the bow tying game with me and was caught short by how much his hands resembled those of another manfriend.It's the three Hs. Height, hair, and, and this one is out there, hands. And amazingly the hands seem to be the big winner here.

And before you get all vommy on me I'm not talking about dirty, icky things, I am strictly talking appearances. But it's weird this piano hand thing I have. I mean really if you find a large man with delicate hands, big delicate hands, give him my number please. He and I, we have a future filled with delicate handed babies.

The whole wrinkly forehead thing is a bit too fetishy to be a part of my "type" though if you find one of those on a very tall man with dark hair and piano hands you let me know. Please.

Hail and High Water Here Comes the Fun

I know that's a metaphor misremembered. And wrong lyrics. And I am pretty sure they really really don't go together.

But I had a hellofa weekend and I must let you in on it.

So Thursday I saw the lovely Mumford and Sons... oh how good they are. After the traffic we got not so miserable lawn seat. I mean after seeing them in clubs and so close, the lawn is miserable. All sweating on a blanket the clouds rolled in. At first the rain was fine, as in fine rain, then it got a bit more intense and before long the lightening was hitting a little close for comfort and the drummer (I think) of  Matthew and the Atlas was dumping water on himself in solidarity, though that is hearsay, we lawn folk were unfortunately missing out on their portion of the show. Then wind and hail and a bit of nudity. After the rain stopped dry people started showing up just to stick it to those of us who were sodden. After the show saw a drunk, crying girl pass out while walking and slide down a hill on her face. Yeah, I don't get why being that drunk is appealing at a concert, I do rather enjoy the music.

Friday I slept until noon. I don't like doing that. And I was super disoriented. I ran some errands and headed back to Baltimore to explain the game of baseball to a first timer before getting slightly turned around on the way back to the bus. The rain tried to put the kabash on the game but let up just in time. Though the water was running hot over the road as we walked in. Also I would like to point out the wonders of box seats, I could do that again. On my way home I pass a lone police officer sitting in the left lane with his lights on. Then I pass my mother driving 40ish miles an hour on a road I know she routinely does 70 plus on, only to realize the person in front of her was my sister, with her flashers on, I waved as I flew past. Had I realized the situation I would have rolled down my window and explained to her that when one hits a dear and kills it one picks it up and brings it home for supper. Why else would someone try to total their car on a deer?

Saturday my friends got married. It was very nice. Hot, feet swellingly hot, but really really nice. So nice in fact that I can forgive the bride for giving Jamie all the bow tying credit. But what I cannot forgive with the cable company messing with the beginning of my day and forcing me to drive 60 miles for no reason. And get sunburn. So my one arm is fried and I looked really pretty one purple are in my halter-dress at the wedding. Thank you Comcast for you're less than intelligent service

Sunday was filled with strangeness. I pulled wet money out at the grocery store and mentioned it's dampness to my sister. The cashier, may or may not have been in an altered state, refused to take it until I explained the source of it's dampness. Yeah Thursday night I had cash in my pocket when I got caught in that junk. She kept saying "You would not believe what people do with money" and I kept saying "Oh, but I would." It was an excessively productive conversation.

Then Monday came and the weekend washed away just like that. Poof. Gone.

Nosy Nancy Never Wins

So the other day I filled out an internal application for a promotion and I was nervous about talking to my manager, getting it signed and what not so I left it in my drawer over night so that conversation could be a bright and early type deal.  I went home and basked in the opportunity, blogged about it, blogged about it, brooded over it dreamed a bit and woke up the next day for work.

When I got to work I pulled my application out of my drawer, one that I indeed share but expect that my stuff will go untouched. It didn't, not ten minutes after I sit down in the second station which is usually occupied by the teller I was filling in for and this nosy teller starts asking about my paperwork. So I tell her but I'm a bit vague, then she runs over and starts reading the passages that she particularly likes.

Let's be honest, I'm going to be arrogant for a second, I'm a pretty good writer. I'm versed in schmooze and have a varied, yet delightfully flamboyant, vocabulary. So yeah my application was kick ass. I was flying high and it was for HR use only.

I say this as a person who reads everything I can see, if you see something you shouldn't zip the lip, put a lid on it, take it home, write it in your pink diary with the lock, do not discuss it at work or with the person it pertains to.

I know, she was worried about my HR visit, I was too, but her worry had her freaking to the point where she figured she'd get sacked and while part of me would like the relief of not having to deal, I'm not going to the be tattler who gets my co-worker canned. Mostly because "it's a tough time economically" and even the old folks need jobs to keep a roof over their head.

So here's the deal lady: keep your nose out of my business and I'll keep the roof over your head.

Successful Sunday, As Remembered After Sleeping on It

Sunday off is a big deal. Sunday off without having to babysit or mow or run high and low is an even bigger deal. Sunday is the day of rest, so rest I did.

At tenish AM I was startled awake by a text message. I was to be at the vineyards at noonish. I am all about that but I'm in hibernation right now, sleep is good and I somehow can't get enough. But up and showered and in yesterday's clothes (don't tell!) I was vineyard bound where wine was consumed and cheese sweat itself into a frenzy and berries were had by all.

At one point the wedding was called off so I hurriedly sent a mass text to the eligible bachelors in my contacts list with only one reply and that was in the negative, thank God for small miracles I suppose because nine and three quarters seconds after the message(s) was sent the wedding was back on. Some photos and a second vineyard were in order and then best of all Frisbee Golf, oh, excuse me, Disk Golf.

At the park, mostly inappropriately dressed, we hunted for the beginning of the course, and settle with the end. The cheese wasn't the only thing the heat forced to sweat so when we missed "holes" on our course no one was terribly upset.

I got to impress the city folk about my plant and animal knowledge and scamper through knee high grass as if I was born to live like that. I am sad to report that I refrained from stripping to the skivvies and jumping in the pond but if you had seen it you would have understood. We ate mulberries off of trees and sucked the sweet nectar of the wild honeysuckle.

Hair mussed and feet blacked with dirt and the death whispers of summer grass, we introduced our foreign friend to the wonders of a Slurpee. She didn't go all out, it was a conservative Coke to start out but I'm sure she'll be mixing a masterful Slurpee soon enough.

The question of the ingrown hair is still out there... suggestions?

Next Monday has Arrived

As a follow up to my fabulous fortune that came to me via cookie back in March:

Today is Monday.

Today I had an opportunity arise.

Looks like I'm applying for a promotion!

Here's to fortune cookies being kind of vaguely right in hide-sight!

My Adulthood is Non-Unique

Went to a concerty thing last night, learned that in becoming an adult my bitterness is both not unique and potentially a sign that I will become a musician who may not make the billboard charts but is in someways a successful musician. Or, bitterness could be the motivation I need to get off my ass and become successful.

I'm not entirely sure bitterness is a motivator and I'm super not sure I want to be a musician either. So what does this mean for me? Mostly, I'm enjoying the the sense of comradery that comes with other bitter twenty-somethings. I spent a few hours in the bliss amongst angsty, tattooed youngins' who haven't yet become bitter and can only imagine what happens after you can drink legally.

It was a successful evening, made me want to get a tattoo kind of, but of what I have yet to figure out.
.

Ok, Sickos, WTF!

I'm not actually judging here but I am thoroughly amused by the tiny bit of traffic I've acquired via the Google in various countries  this week. I figured that my post about the man at the mall would get some views (the most read post on my entire blog is the one where I mention nipples) but the sources of the traffic are what has me both grossed out and curious.

Malaysia you need to do better than my blog when looking for public masturbation. I'm not into pornographic writing, sorry.

I shall consider creating dirty dirty blogs but until then...



Thank you Lonely Island.

And as a response to my Malaysian readers....

The Curse of the Sun

I love being outdoors. Love it. And yesterday I got my first chance to embrace the fact that summer came early (thats what she said) this year. It was about 100 degrees Fahrenheit so I mowed. I took my gloriously white self outside and mowed.

No, this isn't a sunburn blog. I know, I've probably done it before probably several times, actually, but four or so hours in a bathing suit and I am burn free thank you very much. The sun issue I am lamenting didn't pop up until this morning, or else I didn't notice it until this morning, which is equally as bad.

I am covered with tiny, tiny hives.

Thats right folks, not only am I superty duperty fair skinned and awe-strikingly sunburn prone,  I am allergic to the sun! I know, I have strange allergies, blame my mother. I also know that I don't own stock in allergy medicine nor do I have enough dinero to cover one pill a day for the next three to four months so I'm going to suck it up.

I am rubbing dirt on my hives as we speak.

Though I cannot stress how proud I am of not burning any of my milky flesh on my tractor excursion yesterday. I even have my very own version of a tan happening, it's pink, but not painful nor hot (or is it?).

So, reader peeps, join me in celebrating the summer sun with Costco size bottles of SPF 50 and anti-itch cream because its going to be a glorious season.




(Please read this with true enthusiasm, I am not being sarcastic in the post.)