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July 29, 2005
I feel pretty, oh so pretty
Yesterday after work I was standing in front of my office building waiting for grumpy to come pick me up when I totally got hit on by the hottest guy ever.
P-shaw!
I was scanning the street in search of our truck when our eyes accidentally met. I gave my cordial and perfunctory "hello street person, do not ask me for money" smile.
He was about my height (5'3" give or take), weighing in at about 100 pounds if he was lucky and he had on the most fashionable outfit I believe I have seen since 1987. Similar to the following, except that he was a man (I think), his clothes were much, much baggier, he had no shirt on under his jean jacket and he didn't have camel toe. Not that I was looking.
He said "Hey baby". I believe I blinked incredulously and said "uh-yah", as he continued to pimp role on his merry way, while looking over his shoulder to wink at me.
I don't know how I get all the really hot men, but whew, I sure do feel special.
Posted by bugg at 12:29 PM | Comments (2)
July 27, 2005
thick skinned or toughskins
Our boss has a lovely 18 year old daughter, Pookie, who has been working around our office this summer before she heads off to college. Having her around has us reminiscing about our younger days and especially fashion trends.
I had to relive my most traumatic childhood memory, wearing these.
While all the other little girls in Ripon Wisconsin were wearing Calvin Klein’s, Gloria Vanderbilt’s, Sassoon and even Lee or Levi's if you were a farmer's kid; I was made to wear the dreaded Toughskins. My mother thought that by forcing me to don those horrifically embarrassing, taunt-inducing hideous jeans, I would decide to drop my tomboyish ways of climbing trees and playing in the dirt and behave like a "real girl". Real girl behavior was rewarded with the coveted Calvin Klein jeans of which I only owned one pair (*sigh*) compared to my 4 to 5 pairs of stiff kneed Toughskins.
Imagine if you will that you are playing on your summer softball team and you have to run the bases and slide into home without ever being able to bend properly at the knee. Sad isn't it? I'm tearing up just thinking about it.
Posted by bugg at 09:43 AM | Comments (4)
July 25, 2005
All creatures small
No interesting story today just thought I'd share our pets with you.
These are our dogs: Tico, the long haired Chihuahua(we think), Keno, the some kind of terrier mix and Willow, the Chug (Pug/Chihuahua).
We should have named them Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber.
They all sleep in bed with us every night and they hog all the covers. Even in summer, Willow gets under the covers and she likes to put her head on my pillow. I swear if she starts spooning me her butt will be sleeping in the kennel. Sometimes she snores louder than grumpy (husband).
We also have five ungrateful indoor only cats who all weigh more than any of the dogs (Scout, Boo, Dinky, Bob and Amber - she came with that name). People are always amazed (and sometimes disgusted) that we have that many animals. All but two were rescues who needed a home so we took them in. This is what happens when your close friend runs a cat shelter.
Our cat Scout has a special kind of stupidity and she gets herself locked into closets, drawers and even filing cabinets. She sneaks in when you are putting away laundry or the like. She burrows into a corner or something and then you close the door without even seeing her. The next thing you know three days have gone by and you are wondering to yourself when was the last time I saw Scout?
She doesn't make a sound the whole time either, which is so irritating because she normally walks around "talking". You end up running through the house panicked thinking that she has escaped outside and she is too stupid to live out there and then you have to go through anything that opens trying to find her.
The moment you open the escape hatch to whatever she has gotten herself locked in she will blink up at you because she has been in pitch black for a couple of days, then she meows, runs off to eat, drink and take a shit before she looks for a new trap door. I have actually locked her into two seperate dressers on the same day.
Posted by bugg at 01:37 PM | Comments (4)
July 22, 2005
Runs on the Run
Yesterday, Meloknee and I were having a delightful conversation about FUBS (Fugged up Bowel Syndrome) with our boss. Boss-man is an adolescent at heart and procures much enjoyment from fart, poo-poo and bathroom stories. We indulge him because we are immature also and it makes us laugh like hyenas.
All the FUBS talk brought to mind a lovely little tid-bit that I thought I would share.
Several years ago while walking around Green Lake with my friends, Kat and Chippy, we decided it was necessary to make a brief pit stop. We walked toward the restroom facilities on the north end of the lake and just as we broke off so Chippy could hit the men’s room and Kat and I could use the ladies' a female jogger decked out in full running ensemble including wrist bands, headphones on, music blaring and water bottle attached to her hip, went barreling by bounding through the entrance and swooping in on the only stall in the joint.
Kat and I gave each other that “whatever bitch” look and queued up to wait. Seconds later we beat a hasty retreat out to the front of the building gagging and giggling at the same time. The noises and smells emitting from this tiny little jogger were exuberant to say the least.
At that moment Chippy returned to find us already waiting for him he was shocked that two girls could finish before him.
We were about to explain ourselves when the noises that chased us out of the bathroom in the first place came vibrating loudly through the giant vent secured in the top of the cement block wall. We all bent over laughing. And assuming they were paying attention anyone in a ten foot radius could have easily been an ear witness to the jogger’s boisterous performance.
We decided to wait around so we could snigger (we’re bitches like that) as miss jogger exited the facilities. The swirling, swooshing echo of the toilet flushing streamed like a waterfall through the vent and then the door flew open and without any flourish or even a glance in our direction, the runner with the runs kept on running.
Posted by bugg at 11:15 AM | Comments (3)
July 21, 2005
home is where those houses are
This will be the last in the "Serious/Sad Topic" series for a bit, I promise. Inspired by a chat with Ms. Bees Knees and by Meloknee being homesick for Cali:
I believe that when you move around alot as a kid you get so heartbroken at leaving your house and your friends again that as you age you learn to not get too attached to any one place or group of people.
As a result, I have a hard time keeping friends. I love to meet new people and make connections but I don't always succeed at maintaining friendships. Part of me believes I am a sucky friend and part of me understands that everything happens for a reason.
Some people stick with you forever like family or certain close friends but some people will come into and out of your life only at specific times because you needed them (or vice versa) and you needed the lesson, the support, the love, the connection - that something that only that specific person could deliver to you at that moment in time. When the circumstances or the need changes then the relationship changes or ends.
Being the new kid in school also targets you for endless ridicule and teasing. It makes you tough or it breaks you. It made me tough (although I still have a soft, chewy center).
I think somehow my parents understood what a bitch it was to always be the new kid, so they wanted to provide us with a safe haven. And they did. Everytime we moved my parents built a new house - the same house (with updates and changes as the years passed), but yes, basically the same house.
No matter where we lived and no matter how crappy the outside world seemed, I could always go to my house, close the drapes and I was home.
Posted by bugg at 03:36 PM | Comments (6)
what the?
Please excuse all my fugged up quotation marks and apostrophes. I don't know what the hell is going on with the font....
Posted by bugg at 12:25 PM | Comments (0)
July 19, 2005
Life Goes On
Death has come to visit my family more and more in the last several years. I’ve lost an entire generation of grandparents, great aunts and uncles and more recently the losses have hit closer to home. My dad passed in September and my Uncle (dad’s older brother) passed several weeks ago. They both suffered from Alzheimer’s.
I have become the keeper of the family history. It is on my shoulders to remember the stories, dates and names to pass on. I enjoy this role of ensuring that someone will always know who we are, who we were and where we came from. It cements me into a family that has claimed me as their own.
Someday maybe I will know the stories of my birth family as well and I will remember them and I will pass all these stories and pictures on to my children.
And life will go on.
Posted by bugg at 12:50 PM | Comments (1)
July 18, 2005
careful what you wish for
My mom is hysterical. She says the funniest things I have ever heard anyone say. The thing is, she isn't trying to be funny and she has no idea that she is funny or that she has single-handedly supplied me with the content for every stand up routine I have ever done.
The first time I ever had male roommates I was 25. Two friends of mine from college in Michigan had come out to visit and decided they liked it here. Several months later they came back and me, Bunny, Big D and Dunham rented a house together. My overprotective Catholic mother was appalled and worried that I might be having the S-E-X with them or something. Silly woman.
My overprotective mother is also short. Very short. 5” even.
These facts led to one of the funniest conversations I have ever had with her.
After her initial shock at there being boys under the same roof as her pure as the driven snow daughter (ahem), she actually warmed up to the idea, thinking that these boys would be protection against foul mouthed young hooligans who may try to make impolite advances on her precious baby.
To soothe her fears across the 2000-mile divide between us, I decided to talk up Big D and Dunham to let her know they were good guys and she should have no fears.
Dunham was a goofy dude and not too smooth. Aside from his bizarre night terrors and the way he left apple cores and the little stickers from the apples everywhere (seriously we found them in the shower, on the TV, we even found one stuck to the dog once), he wasn’t all that bad as roommates go.
But Big D I loved! He has the best sense of humor ever and he still cracks me up. The funniest of movies is 100% funnier when I watch it with Big D. He had two sisters and was used to living with girls. He was neat, clean, organized, paid his bills on time. He was the best. And Big D could hurt some fools if he wanted too. In any fight, he would be the one to save me if I couldn’t save myself.
Big D is called Big D for a reason. He stands a full 6’ 6” and he’s got some bulk to back it up. All of this I told my mother and my dad who was listening in on the other extension.
When I got to the part where I said, “Big D is 6’6”.
My mom said (and I repeat), “Boy, he’s tall. I wish I had six of his inches!” (say what??!)
Of course she meant she wished she was 5’6” but my dirty little mind went in a whole other direction with that and apparently so did my dad (now you know where I get it) and we both did a spit take laughing our asses off. I covered the receiver and started relaying this story to all of my roommates so they could have a good chuckle.
My mother continued on as if she didn’t even hear us, saying things like,
“He must have a huge bed.”
And, “Where does he buy pants that big?”
All of this only added to my spasms of laughter and finally she said, “What the hell are you guys laughing about? All I said was I wish I had six of his inches.” (more peals of laughter) At that moment she finally realized what had us on the verge of tears.
She didn’t find it amusing at all. We quickly reigned ourselves in and moved on to another subject. But the roommates and I would tease her about it on occasion and she would blush and mockingly scold.
Several years after the fact, at my wedding, Big D went up to my and said, “Hey Mrs. P, I brought you six inches.”
Now, that’s a thoughtful guy, bringing gifts for everyone.
Posted by bugg at 06:33 PM | Comments (2)
July 16, 2005
Let's Eat
For many years my family went to Ft. Lauderdale to stay in our condo during Christmas and spring vacations. At Christmas, we spent two lovely weeks in the sun while the rest of the Midwest was up to their eyeballs in cold and snow.
My mother, being a lady of leisure, ensured that our family dined out on a fairly regular basis. This was especially true while on holiday. She would say, “I’m on vacation, I don’t want to cook.”
Nightly, my parents, my brother and I would get dressed to go out, pile into the car and then cruise the streets looking for restaurants. We had several tried and true restaurants that we frequented. And being Italian we had our favorite, Nick’s Italian Restaurant, which we went to at least five times in two weeks. After so many years they knew us by name. If you ever happen to be in Ft. Lauderdale, go there. (NICKS ITALIAN RESTAURANT, 3496 N OCEAN BLVD FORT LAUDERDALE) Mangiare! Mangiare! È delizioso.
But inevitably my parents would want to try something new.
On any outing in the car my mother loved to point things out that might possibly come in handy at a later date.
Pointing she’d say to my dad, “Look Frank, there’s a gas station. There’s a hotel. There’s a..." on and on. Even if we had driven by that same gas station one hundred times before or possibly even stopped to fill our tank there, she would point it out as if seeing it for the first time.
My brother and I would sit in the back seat rolling our eyes at each other, trying not to laugh.
On one such occasion, mom was merrily pointing out destinations of interest when she spied in the distance a sign she had not seen before.
“It looks like they’ve opened a new restaurant up there. I can’t see the sign, what’s it say? MUDFUCKER'S??? God, That is a terrible name for a restaurant.”
My brother and I looked at each other, squinted our eyes, looked and her and then both leaned forward over the seat to see this restaurant named Mudfucker’s. Reading the sign we laughed hysterically and cried, "Mom, it’s not MUDFUCKER'S, it’s FUDDRUCKER’S”.
She was mortified and I think a little relieved. It was the first time I even realized my mother knew how to utter the word fuck.
If you ever get the chance, go have a burger at MUDFUCKER'S they are delicious. (Fuddruckers Restaurant, 1200 N Federal Hwy
Fort Lauderdale, FL 33304)
Posted by bugg at 09:24 AM | Comments (1)
July 13, 2005
happy as a clam
I never thought I wanted kids. I loved them I just didn't want one in my house or car. Life surprises you. I never knew I wanted something so much or loved something this much until he came along.
This is the thought I focus on when I have to clean up a lovely small child poop that goes all the way up his back and on down to his socks.
Posted by bugg at 07:03 PM | Comments (2)
July 12, 2005
mmmm balls
I don't know about where you live, but here in Seattle Bubble Tea is a big thing. (http://www.whatscookingamerica.net/BubbleTea.htm)
Personally, I think it sounds nasty and I don't want to try any of it but my work buddy is in love with Bubble Tea and she tries to get everyone to give it a whirl.
The only thing I love about Bubble Tea is all the nasty sounding things you can say to people who happen to be drinking one, like:
Those are really big balls you have there.
Have you ever sucked balls through a straw before?
Do those balls feel funny in your mouth?
What do those balls taste like?
Do you like it when the balls hit the back of your throat?
No! I don't want to taste your balls!
I could go on and on, giggling the whole while.
Sometimes I feel like a 12 year old boy trapped in a 34 year old woman's body.
Posted by bugg at 03:51 PM | Comments (2)
July 11, 2005
Killing Me Softly?
First off...
Thanks Meloknee for helping me set up my page the way I want it and all that good stuff.
On to the story.
Our condo complex is set up in a big U shape with all the units facing a large grassy area and the pool and clubhouse which has a large glass wall around it. We are right by the pool and in a secluded corner. Generally, very quiet.
But, tonight as I was walking out back with Willow while she went potty, I heard a voice. At first I didn't know what the hell it was or where it was coming from. It almost sounded like singing but there was no music. And with the way it echoed I couldn't figure out which unit it was coming from. So, I meandered down the little path around the pool a bit and then stopped to listen.
Then I heard it. Loud and clear. A melancholy, I don't know all the words but I'm singing from my heart, without music, on my expensive Karaoke machine, while all alone voice.
A man. Singing Killing Me Softly.
The single dentist, who is apparently tone deaf to boot.
I almost pissed myself. The caretaker was out putting the pool cover on and we had a lovely chuckle about how the dentist was killing us but not softly. Poor dentist must have heard us laughing because he stopped singing. So sad.
Now, I am not the friendly type with my neighbors so I only know one or two of them but now I am going to have to make it a point to meet this man and ask him if I can come hang out with him and Karaoke. It seems to me he'd like the company and he will make me sound like the "Ultimate Goddess of Karaoke" in comparison. I mean, I am the Ultimate Goddess of Karaoke but he doesn't know that. Yet.
Posted by bugg at 10:07 PM | Comments (3)
July 08, 2005
Finding Dick
I become obsessed on occasion with finding my birth father.
Maybe it is because my adopted dad passed away in September and I miss him. Or because he had Alzheimer's and couldn't remember who I was at the end.
Whatever the reason, I have to find this stranger who is technically my father.
I don't think there will be peace inside my head until then.
I found my birth mother in 1992 and since then we have had sporadic but friendly communication. She only spoke of Richard once years ago and has since ignored any pleas for more information. I can't say as I blame her. The memories must be very painful.
I figured it would be easier to find him than it actually has been. He was in the Army during Viet Nam so I assumed the paper trail would be easy to track but that has not been the case.
I have scoured the internet in search of Richard on and off for the last ten years. I could probably pay someone but I'm not ready to admit defeat like that yet.
And I am afraid.
Afraid that he will be angry with me for disturbing his life and that he will be disappointed with who I am.
I am also afraid that I will hate him and that he will disappoint me or it scares me because I will love him.
I am afraid he will turn his back on me. Again.
I don't want Richard to be a Dick.
Posted by bugg at 02:49 PM | Comments (0)
July 01, 2005
Scott and Kevin Suck
Before I was married I had a rule. Never, ever date anyone named Scott or Kevin (again).
In high school I dated Scott K. the summer I turned sixteen and he ruined me. He seemed like a catch; honor student, football player, very cute and popular. I had only moved to MI my sophomore year so I thought this was my lucky day to be in with the popular crowd. But he only dated me that summer and we stayed out of the public eye. At the time I thought it was romantic but it was really because he didn't want anyone to know he was dating me. I was not popular enough apparently. He stopped calling me the week before school started and then he never acknowledged my existence again. His mind fucking killed my self-esteem and almost drove me to kill myself. He hardened me, took away my innocence (not in a sexual way) and my trust in others.
I blame him and thank him for the way I am now. He broke my heart. At the time I thought my heart was broken because I was in love with him but really it hurt so much because he made me hate myself. He is now married and living in Utah. Good riddance and my condolences to his wife.
I went from nice and shiny new, an Adam Ant song - don't drink, don't smoke, what do you do?, and the new girl in school to a jaded, more wild, all black wearing, teen angst poetry writing, party girl. It made me very popular my junior and senior year, most likely for all the wrong reasons. I wasn't really bad but I tried hard to be someone other than the nice girl whose heart got clobbered.
The second loser was Kevin B. I dated him my senior year in high school. He was a wasteoid. He was two years older than I. He lived at home with his parents, didn't go to school and he worked for the cemetery digging graves and doing maintenance. I think he liked that job because no one cared if he was high. Yes, I actually thought he was great.
I will say nothing more to incriminate myself, ahem....
Anyway, New year's Eve 1989, I walked in on him having sex with Julie G.(a sophmore). Needless to say I stopped seeing him.
Thank God I never slept with either of them.
My parents used the highly effective Catholic method of having me so afraid of having to tell them I was pregnant that I was scared into virginity until I was ummm, older. Not to make you think I was a total prude, I will say that at that time it was “ok” for high school girls of a certain age to engage in other activities that were "safer". HAHA!
Oh, I forgot about the second Kevin. Senior year in college I decided to give the Kevin’s a second chance. It was a bad idea. This one tried to get in the pants of one of my friends……… Jason. Enough said.
Anyway, I digress and move on to the Brian's. Brian's are good.
I have a close friend Brian, who I have known since high school and we have stayed friends, especially because he has a very cool wife. We don't see each other often because we live across the country from each other but he'll always be my friend. Poor guy was so great he even put up with my friend Kathleen and me calling him Cinderfella for the longest time.
The second Brian was a sophomore when I was a junior. He was my first boyfriend after the whole "Scott incident". He was very smart (a lawyer now), athletic, kind, his parents were a teacher and counselor at our high school. They hated me because they heard rumors of my wild ways. Anyway, he was wonderful and sweet but my self esteem was in the crapper so I broke up with him. I hurt him. We tried to hook up once or twice a few years later but it never worked. He is the one who told me I didn't belong in Michigan and that I needed to get away and find the right place for me. At the time it hurt to hear him say that but now I know he was right and I doubt he even knows. I haven't talked to him in thirteen years. He will always be the one that got away.
The last, best Brian, my Mr. turned out to be Mr. Right.
Posted by bugg at 01:40 PM | Comments (0)