Smarter than the machine

Feeling much better mentally but unfortunately my computer is on the fritz.

I was chatting online with my friend Ally before heading out for the evening, when my computer started going to black, which I thought was just a brown-out at first, but then it did it a bunch of times, rebooted itself, told me "Your computer has just recovered from a serious error," and then there were Chinese/Japanese (I'm guessing Japanese) characters in my desktop menu. Computer virus, gross. I really don't want to deal with it at all, but I'm sorta attached to the internet from the hip (Several times today, I went and sat down in front of my computer before remembering that it doesn't work at the moment), so I'll probably have to take it in somewhere, because I'm completely helpless. [/sarcasm] I can't decide if I want to play the damsel in distress and have one of my computer geek friends fix it, try to fix it myself, or pay someone else to do it. Or, you know, just sink myself further in debt and buy an Apple laptop, like I really want to do.

Who can say? But if you're wondering why I don't have anything to say, that's why. At least for the next few days, and then I will have another excuse. Don't worry.

Muddled and Miserable

I am having what some people call a rough week.

Let's see... I got really upset by something Zach said Sunday (when is this gonna stop?) and started the week feeling poor. Then, Ally wasn't around, which bothered me more than I'm willing to admit to myself. And my coworker, Russ, played softball with us, which I thought would be fun, but everyone played like shit, including me (we were ten-runned AND shut out. in four innings. ouch. my only at-bat was a strike-out, which won me a nagging, "You're staying for batting practice, RIGHT? You know you need it." after the game. shit.). And then I was an idiot at the bar and flirted with him FAR too much. I was fielding sly grins from everyone around the table. Stupid stupid stupid.

Then, Tuesday, one of the VPs at work beckoned me into his office with one finger (how humiliating) to lecture me about my work ethic. I had been starting to slide and I was glad for it, a bit (I don't like being a slacker any more than my bosses do, I have too much residual Catholic in me for that), but it made me feel terrible and also validated one of my paranoias (that the guy was watching me like a hawk), so now I feel like ALL of my paranoias are valid.

Then, today, I got a lecture from my boss about how I'm asking the wrong people my questions (read: Russ), and he had me do some of my components with him watching over my shoulder. I was talking to one of my coworkers today (see previous paragraph: i never learn) and she said that she's started gnawing on her fingernails since working there. I have the same nervous vice that I've always had (cracking my knuckles, pulling hair), but they're both worse. I'm thinking about going back on medication for my OCD, because my job is both perfect for someone with OCD and murderous for someone with OCD (detail-oriented is good, but there are too many details to hold onto them all at once, which is how i usually like to do things. This is why I became a mechE, to force myself to learn how to break ideas into bits. I don't think it worked.).

And I can't shake this feeling that all the big-wigs at work are discussing the newbies and I'm coming up short. The guy who started two weeks after me has already finished as many projects as me. Gross. My boss also seems to take my mistakes as a personal affront, which is dangerous territory to be in. It's just a little harder to be neurotic and working.

This is neither here nor there, but I also realised that what I was hoping were visions are just more evidence that I'm slowly (or quickly, depending on your perspective) turning into Ally McBeal. And my figure is not nearly as nice (although, Calista Flockhart was always too thin for my taste, so that could be worse).

In case you weren't already convinced, I'm looking forward to the weekend.

* * *

Oh, yeah, and: Fuck you, gub'ment: "'New federal guidelines ask all females capable of conceiving a baby to treat themselves—and to be treated by the health care system—as pre-pregnant, regardless of whether they plan to get pregnant anytime soon,' reports the Washington Post. '[T]his means all women between first menstrual period and menopause should take folic acid supplements, refrain from smoking, maintain a healthy weight and keep chronic conditions such as asthma and diabetes under control... [I]t's important that women follow this advice throughout their reproductive lives, because about half of pregnancies are unplanned and so much damage can be done to a fetus between conception and the time the pregnancy is confirmed.'" Because I'm a little bit crazy, I already do most of this, but that doesn't mean Dubya gets to tell me to do it, too.

Sexy is over-rated

This weekend I played "life of the party." I almost tried to steal a boyfriend (but thought better of it, thank goodness), I ate candy off of the necks of others (one of the few things in life which is better in adulthood than childhood) and others ate candy off of my neck (amazing), I had a guy I've crushed on for maybe two years eating out of my palm, I let countless men feel my legs and I shook my booty like I was an extra in a Sir Mixalot song.

I dressed as "such a tease, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a tease" and wore my normal long-sleeved t-shirt with a t-shirt sporting an inappropriate saying (this one was my Betty Boop, sexiest cartoon perhaps ever, who is saying, "Who will second the motion?" And I'm still not sure what it means, but it's damn sexy) over it, and then my nice woven fishnet stockings which I bought in London and a short black skirt and black boots. My boots needed shining, but no one seemed to mind.

My favorite part of the weekend (aside from when some guy at a party told me i looked like amelie, which may just be the best compliment i've ever received) was having breakfast with my girlfriend Ellie. And then getting to watch Lost with her, which is SO GOOD.

I got a check in the mail from my old company (rather bad things happened during my employment there, but I care not to divulge further), Autofin, for $2. Is that their idea of a settlement check? There wasn't any sort of pay detail other than a pay stub saying that they'd paid me, and a phone number to ask questions.

I started a short story this weekend but it's going to turn out so dark that I'm afraid to let anyone read it. And I want to play more guitar.

It may also set you free

I'm a little hormonal lately, and by lately, I mean constantly for the last 2 years. Not getting laid is rough. Unrghh... I spent all day at work today trying not to fantasize about making out (read: fucking against a cubicle wall) with my work husband, Russ. It didn't help that in the afternoon, he walked by my cube and fixed me with an "I can see right through you" stare as he walked by. Is there any situation in which that doesn't mean you want to boff someone? And when he walked back the other way, he did it again! Like, turned his head around all the way to look at me.

And then he basically ran out of the place so we could walk out of the building together and when I hung back, he slowed down. It's like we're in high school again!

* * *

These are my confessions:

I'm a terrible driver.

That's it for now. I discovered today that my heart pounds whenever I'm going to make (what I think is) a scandalous confession. ("Oh, my gosh! I'm about to tell the truth!")

Sometimes I worry about my immortal soul.

* * *

I don't really have a lot to talk about today, actually. I'm sorta worrying over things, trying to make a decision that works for me and those around me. Being indecisive is the pits. Having a weak spine is the pits. Being such a people-pleaser is the pits. The song on the radio just sang, "Make up your mind."

Haha, I was thinking about indecision the other day. My older brother, Tim, is getting married this summer, and when I was having coffee with his best friend, Pete, before taking Pete back to the airport, we were talking about Tim's extraordinary luck. Pete said, "It must be hard to see Tim shoot one arrow and hit the bulls-eye while you're shooting arrows all over the place and not even making the board."

The truth hurts.

Tomorrow is another day

You've never felt so far away
As you do today

I wrote that in the car, leaving my softball game on Monday. I didn't find out why I felt that way until Tuesday afternoon. Sometimes being intuitive kinda sucks. And I can't say I much care for that jarring feeling that comes with reality. In fact, it bites.

(Whatever you think this is about, you're most likely wrong. And no, I'm not explaining myself)

I should say more (I'm a naughty little updater, I need to be spanked. No, really, please?), but I'm going to bed. I've been a little sick this week and I need the sleep, I assure you.

The one good thing to come out of this is that I'm finally inspired to write something new. I had worried that alienating Zach meant losing my muse, since he was the first person to inspire me to write anything (no, I'm not talking about blogging, I'm talking about music) since Jamis.

(also, I did a google search for Jamis' full name the other day and only three results came up, isn't that weird? and, I have no idea what his middle name is.)

I developed a mini crush on a boy tonight. He was with his gf, though, so I behaved and didn't do anything about it.

* * *

I have too many credit cards.

Confusion

People like me? I don't believe you.

Travel?

Saving money is hard. Having itchy feet is hard. Waking up at 6am every day is hard. Having people criticize you for stuff you already know you suck at is hard.

Ice cream, on the other hand, is not hard. It's delicious.

RE: Jection

Unlike oral sex, I would rather receive than give it.

(yes, i mean both sides)

I'm actually 100% putz when it comes to being the writer of the Dear John letter. Let's add up the reasons why:

1) avoidant
2) people pleaser
3) go-alonger
4) shy
5) unassertive
6) afraid of people

* * *

I suck at masturbating lately. I'm not sure what my problem is. Hopefully my new sex toys will remedy the situation.

Ooh, I forgot to talk about putting pheromones on and going to a frat party. Ok, guys who seemed interested:

1) Icelandish man, cute but didn't have very much of an accent. He seemed damn cool, though.
2) Some guy at this frat party I was at. There weren't many guys there, and he was too young and too cute to like me. Really really cute, though.
3) There were a few guys at the party after, but I don't remember them very well. One of them (probably 19, why do i look like i'm 17? it sucks so bad) looked like a young young young Paul McCartney. We were supposed to find each other on myspace, but I forgot his name, and he must have, too. Meh, like I said, way too young for me.

Tone-deaf

I'm totally exhausted and I doubt this entry will make much sense, but I'm too crazied up to sleep at the moment, so I'm here. Today sucked, but last night was awesome.

I went straight from work to Kehla's, where there was a Tasteful Treasures (read: sex toys) party. I don't know if it was the vodka or the sexual frustration, but I bought 100$ worth of merchandise. Um. I get a little crazy at those silly parties. I bought 74$ worth of candles at a candle party.

ANYWAY.

Kehla and I hung out a bit after everyone had left, and we planned to rent the vacant coffee shop down the street from me and have a dance-aoke event. Her idea is that a lot of people are willing to dance, but they're afraid to sing on their own. I'm the opposite way, actually, I would much rather sing than dance. Oh yeah, but Kehla has a "Karaoke on Demand" channel, and she couldn't come to my karaoke-ness later, so we sang and danced in her living room. To... Oh, do I really have to say it? N'Sync's "Bye Bye Bye" (kehla knew the whole dance, too, awesome) and Britney Spears' "Oops, I Did It Again."

(crickets)

ANYWAY.

I left her apt (you know you're good friends when your goodbyes last as long as the time you spend together :) and headed to the bar for some Stareoke. Shamefully, I was late to my own party (lame!). Luckily, my friends forgave me. I did Jay-Z's "99 Problems" which went better than the last time I did it, and I also did Alicia Keys' "Fallin'" which I choked a bit over. I realised today that I hadn't heard that song for years, so maybe not the smartest choice. The girl at the next table told me that I was brave for picking it, though.

My favorite part of the evening was when a woman came up and did a fantastic rendition of Alicia Keys' "If I Ain't Got You." (did I mention that I'm a masochist?) I tell you what, I can fake it and sing those high notes, but it's a wonderful thing to hear someone whose voice is actually meant to go that high. She finished, and everyone roared, and I caught her smile at herself over winning the crowd. Ooh, competition!

AND! AND! AND! Sarah came, and I haven't seen her since before I started work at the oil-change place, I think (so, not five months like i'd originally said, but 3 is a damn long time, too!). She snuck up next to me and startled me, making me shriek in the middle of some poor chick's song (and she was a good singer, too, bummer) and then I jumped up and gave her a big hug. We were anti-social and huddled in the booth, catching each other up on all the haps. It had been a long time, but we didnt' miss a beat. I love her much and will miss her terribly when she moves.

Book report

I am all alone in my apartment, with no plans for the rest of the evening, and I couldn't be happier. I've been several different kinds of whiny lately (I get peevish when I'm tired) and I'm looking forward to a lower-maintenance me.

Oy, so when was the last time I did a proper update? It was a while. I've been busy, far too busy to do all the things I'm supposed to do, much less do things that I enjoy, like keeping a blog and having phone sex with a Scotsman.

Well, here's the brief detail of what I did in the past few days:

Friday (5/5)

Went to a house party that included a concert in the basement. The crush I've had for years (the one who moved me to buy the white album) was there, playing drums. After his band played, I went up to him and complimented him on his versatile talents (he also plays lead guitar and sings in another band) and he said, "I'm everywhere! I do it for the people. I like to please people." and I said, saucily (is there any other way?), "Ooh, do you take requests?" and he said, "YEA I DO." and then he snuck a quick glance at my breasts. I nearly fell over. Damn, he wins.

After the bands were done, me and some friends went to Pyscho Szui's, and I was sauced. I caught myself giving a guy at my table a steamy look, totally (well, at least half-ly) unintentionally.

Saturday (5/6)

Went to the chiropracter, who was really really enthusiastic about everything I said to him, which freaked me out a bit. "YAY!" Then, Matt came over and we met my bruvva, his fiance, our friend Mary and their friend Craig at the german beer hall down the street. I taught them how to toast in Germany (yell "proscht!" and slam your glass on the table) and Timmy led the way to our being the loudest table there. Oh, yeah, and we got there before 3pm. The server came out and was like, "Are you all gonna get home okay? Should I call you a cab or something?" The beer was delicious.

Sunday (5/7)

I had my first real hangover in a while, but Matt wanted shopping, so we walked the mile and some change to calhooon square. I bought comic books, which were wonderful. I finally own Optic Nerve! To complete the geeky day, we watched anime with Timmy.

Monday (5/8)

In a terrible mood, and then my boss was harsher than I was up to brushing off. Exhaustion doesn't suit me. I was in a better mood by the time we played softball, though. After, I picked up Ben, whom I hadn't seen in a while, and we met some people to watch The Notorious Bettie Page, which was excellent. It was raining a lot, and I forgot to put money in the parking meter, so I ran back out to put money in, but after putting two quarters in, I realized that the meter already had more than an hour left on it from the last person to park there. I'm a pretty lucky person.

Tuesday (5/9)

Another day of being SO TIRED at work, but my boss was in a better mood, so that's nice. Oh, yeah, and I also asked the dopey HR guy if I could have facial piercings, and he came and gave me a carefully worded answer about business professional. The bottom line was, "We won't fire you just for a facial piercing, but please please please don't do it!" Aw, poor guy.

Oh, yeah, and I smirked about it later to a woman at work, who said, "Well, just pierce your nipples, then everyone's happy!" and I said, "Oh, I already have." Heh. Only one, though. (I like the assymmetry)

After work, Kehla and I watched the season finale of Veronica Mars, which was awesome. Also, this is embarrassing, but I cannot believe that Jade is still in the running to be America's Next Top Model.

And, today. I'm really horny and I kept catching myself staring at my work husband Russ's mouth. My boss came to give me another project and said, "Now, this one needs to get out pretty quickly, so don't spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to do this stuff, ok? Just ask a lot of questions and get lots of help." I think he may just have figured me out. He hasn't, actually (i'm not spending a lot of time puzzling through this or that concept, but i obsessively check my work and redo my answers and they're always right the first time because i'm actually pretty good at this shit), but I'll let him think so.

My work husband, Russ, said that he likes the white album the best. He doesn't actually read this, which I wanted to clarify because I realised I totally gave the impression that he did.

* * *

Monday, I was going through my closet looking for a shirt for Ben to wear (he had a spill) and I just remember looking through the contents of my closet and being mystified that I'd actually wanted to keep any of it at any point. It reminded me of how I threw away bags and bags of garbage when I was getting ready to move to LA, and when I reported this to Jamis, he said, with a tinge of disappointment, "It sounds like you're cutting ties."

I'm a maximalist, so it's kind of a big thing for me.

* * *

Ally and I were talking today, and he was complaining about how hard it is for him to meet people (a common problem amongst introverted males, apparently), especially girls. I suggested that he go to a coffee shop, as I always spend my time at coffee shops checking out the boys and I expect others do the same.

"I don't like coffee," he whined, so I suggested tea instead (I always forget that UK-ers drink more tea than coffee. weirdos). Then he didn't think you could just talk to people like that.

I said, "Sure, you can. I mean, it helps if they're reading a book, because then you can go up and ask them about it, and then introduce yourself, and then take them back to your apartment!"

Ally got real quiet and then said in a "just bizarre enough to be plausible" (or was it the "well, it IS christy we're talking about here") voice, "You haven't actually done that, have you?"

I said, "Oh, god, of course not! I would totally do it if you were the one asking, though."

And then he said, "So, all I have to do is find a coffeeshop that has you in it. In this country."

Aw... Ally's cute when he's dour.

* * *

I been tryin' to enjoy all the fruits of my labour
I've been cryin' for you boy, but truth is my saviour

I don't believe you

Wait, so you're saying that falling in love is supposed to be a good thing?

Why I keep a blog

I realized today just how much classier a person looks just from ironing their shirts. (i'm terrible at ironing my shirts. i need a housewife. anyone interested?)

My friend Rupa was talking about work husbands yesterday at dinner. Upon reflection, I realized I totally have one already. (Hey, I move fast, you know?) The other guys at work started immediately messing with me over my quick friendship with Russ, which is really just the product of me being like, "Okay, where's the first familiar face I see? I'm going to CLING to them forever and ever." (I'm kind of a scaredy-cat) Russ also has the status of perennial little brother, you know, the one who's just a little too skinny (not that russ is skinny, he definitely drinks his milk/beer, heh) and can't roll with the big boys. I figure, since everyone thinks Russ is a fuck-up, I can ask him questions and either my meteoric rise to notoriety will give him more credibility, or I can blame all my mistakes on him.

(hey, baby! I'll see you in hell!)

* * *

In wonder of all wonders, I got PAID today. Paychecks, man, they make the world go round. And, lucky me, my landlady is always a little late to cash my rent check, so I had $35.71 cents left over. Come on, I'll buy you breakfast.

(name that movie)

I kinda figured that the job sitch would turn out that way, because that's basically my MO in all my dealings (INFP: over-commit, somehow pull it all off, but probably not without snapping at anyone who comes close to you first).

* * *

Apparently, Matt thinks my "relationship" with Ally is too pathetic to find threatening. If I had any ego left, I might be offended, but instead I'm thrilled that I'm getting everything I want. I had a fantasy last week of going to a bar or something and running into some people I knew, and them saying, "So, how's it going, Christy?" and me replying, "Great! I'm getting everything I want!"

* * *

3 months ago, I started a mix CD for an acquaintance. I'm still working on it. I suck. Also, I just realized I never sent so much as a thank-you email to Stacey for putting me up while I was in Scotland. And I STILL haven't sent my grandparents a thank-you (my very catholic grandmother lit a candle for me at church, which is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done for me, I think). I suck at thank-yous.

I read a couple of months ago that you can drastically increase your quality of life by being more grateful. The article recommended writing 5 things for which your thankful. I prefer to get all choked up as I try to tell my closest friends how much their friendship means to me. Potato potahto.

Conclusions

This world is crazy. I just saw a commercial on KARE-11 for a new piece about how government workers are getting huge pensions, and (OMG!) you, the taxpayer is paying it. When is the anti-tax sentiment of this nation going to stop? Government workers, like University employees, are paid a fraction of the money they would make in industry, and perform a service. What do they do? Oh, just a little thing called educating the people of America. Fuckers.

* * *

I made another conclusion, but this one is the sort of one you sleep on instead of posting when you're crazied up.

Sore Muscles

Two, maybe three, years after I first started planning to go to kickboxing, I found myself at a class.

The sky looked ominous all day, so I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised when softball was cancelled. I'd already eaten dinner, was wearing workout clothes and parked in the parking lot near my field. It seemed like a waste to just go home with all my motivation so I ran through my exercising friends. I hadn't hung out with Rupa in a while, so I gave her a call.

"Hey, Roop! My softball game was cancelled, wanna work out?"

She was heading to a class (she didn't specify which) so I picked her up and we went to her gym. As we were parking, I said something about bikes (last time we tried working out together, it was for spinning class and they ran out of bikes by the time we arrived) and she said, "Oh, no, we're doing kick-boxing." I swallowed a groan at how much pain I'd be in tomorrow and trailed behind her inside.

Again, I could feel the fat in my ass jiggling (ew ew ew). I made it through about 30 minutes of the high-intensity aerobic workout before I could feel my heart pounding in my ears, which is always my sign to quit. I coached myself that I couldn't expect to make it through a whole kick-boxing session (much less an intermediate one with a hard-core instructor) so soon after starting to exercise again (when i play sports, i talk to myself and call myself baby. it's definitely one of the weirder things i do, but it does wonders for my golf swing).

Rupa and I sat outside the room and stretched, waiting for the warm-down portion of the class to happen. She turned to me and said, "Sorry if I smell," and I said, "Ditto."

Roop's been having a rough time at her job, fairly similar to my experience at Autofin, except without all the inappropriate touching. At the end of the day, every group of men deteriorates into a lower class of humans. Don't get me wrong, I love (most) men, but I have watched the most civilized man turn into a jackass because he's in a group of fellow jackasses.

The workout finished, and we headed back to her place. She wanted dinner, but I had to get home in case maintenance stopped by (there was water dripping down my bathroom ceiling last night). She got out and was walking around the car when I decided that, fuck our sweaty clothes, both of us could use a hug. I hopped out and said, "I know we're smelly, but I haven't seen you in a while, so c'mere and gimme a hug." She obliged. That girl bugs the hell out of me sometimes, but I still love her like a sister. Or some other lame teeny-bopper saying.

Now I'm sitting at my apartment, drinking my ionic calcium (I'm turning more and more into my mother by the day), and trying to come up with a stratagem to avoid the three days of agony that happened last week when I played softball. Maybe Medium has anti-lactic acid properties.