Sep 17

I just finished Season 3, which is my absolute favorite season. So many relationships form and change in this particular one.

I realized that one of the many reasons why I love it so much, is because of Lisa’s character. As much turmoil and baggage that existed in her relationship with Nate, it was amazing to watch again, and heartfelt.

My favorite scene between the two of them is when they are sitting in the pyramid at Claire’s show and decide to admit that a lot of their relationship is based on being something they’re not. When they decide to STOP being someone other than themselves and you see the genuine (as genuine as you can get when acting) relief and happiness on their faces. Sadly, all hell breaks loose just when things were going better for them.

Can you imagine being with someone in which you couldn’t express your true identity? Or just feeling like you couldn’t? I myself have been guilty of it. Thank God, that isn’t with Howard.

He’s seen me at my absolute worst, in all of my lowest, darkest, days. And not only does he still tell me I’m the most beautiful woman in the world, he really truly believes it. I can be anything with him. Neurotic, silly, mad, loving, insecure, grouchy. Hell I can even dance around my living room singing to myself and not even feel self conscious because he doesn’t give a lovely fuck what anyone thinks of him or me. I dare even say he’s proud to have a wife such as me. (God bless his soul, right?) He has, from day one, accepted me for who I am. Never ONCE judged me.
And in times when I’ve questioned our marriage (because oh the stories we could tell you about our relationship), and even been separated…all he’s cared about, no matter what cost is that I’m okay with myself. With or without him. I don’t know any better expression of love.

This show reflects so much of the human condition. There are so many life lessons that I’ve taken away. Or maybe just found an identity with the show. I don’t know. But I can say this. SFU taught me a lot about myself.

Sep 15

Darigold Low Fat Strawberry Yogurt. 8 ounces of orgasmically delicious.

(Of course I’ll eat it until I’m sick of it and then will not be able to go near it for ten years, like the Peach Nehi’s and the Fritos Corn Chips and the Sweet Baby Dill pickles.)

Oh but the heaven of getting there.

“If Loooovin’ you is wrong, I don’t wanna be right”.

Gotta run, Survivor is on!

Sep 15

Okay ya’ll. This is one of those funny events that comes along only about every 10 years or so, it’s so freaky. If you’re a pet owner, you’ll appreciate it.

Let me give you a little background info first.

When Howard and I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, we have the whole “If it’s yellow, let it mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down” rule. Mainly because the bathroom is right by the bedroom and a flushing toilet is loud, so if we’re just tinkling (aka pee, piss, wee wee) we let it sit in the toilet until morning so as not to intrude on each other’s beauty sleep.

So last night, I’m almost in a REM cycle when I hear a noise that I can’t put my finger on, but it’s enough to wake both myself and Howard. He flips on the lamp and we look around and can’t find Lucky anywhere. Then I realize that it sounds like him drinking from his water bowl.

Except that his water bowl is in the kitchen. At the other end of the house. Which means he was drinking from the toilet. Yes. The toilet. And not just a clear toilet either. One of us had already gotten up in the middle of the night.

About that time, Lucky comes walking up the steps in order to get into bed which comes right by my head and I get a full whiff of his breath, which smells distinctly of urine. I start to scream and yell and demand he “GET DOWN OFF THIS BED RIGHT NOW!” Howard starts laughing, I run into the bathroom see the water is indeed tinted yellow. I then run into the kitchen to find Lucky’s water bowl is bone dry. My dog has just ingested his father’s urine. He seems all non-plussed about the whole thing because “Well mom and dad, if either of you had BOTHERED to check my water bowl before going to bed, you would have SEEN that I clearly needed water!” I grabbed a handful of doggie breath pills (because he has awful breath as it is), and a wet washcloth and proceeding to shove the pills down his throat and wipe his face thoroughly. I then instructed Howard to please put down the toilet seat cover at night. Oh and I also filled Lucky’s water bowl.

Then after we were all settled into bed again, I could feel the bed shaking from Howard laughing so hard, then I got the giggles and laughed so hard I cried and then had to run to the bathroom again before I pissed myself. (I then promptly flushed because we were both awake)

Now tell me that wasn’t hysterical?

Sep 11

In February 1998, Howard suggested taking a romantic weekend to Manhattan. Of course, I readily agreed and we made the 10 hour trip, even stopping to visit his cousin in Egg Harbor City, New Jersey. I remember being so excited because while I’d been to other parts of NY state, I’d yet to visit Manhattan. Howard lived in NYC with his family on and off through the years, so he’d been there countless times. I had the perfect tour guide. I can vividly remember our first drive through Manhattan, and how I was white knuckling the dashboard the whole time because OH MY GOD, they really DO drive like maniacs there. I couldn’t get into the experience because I was afraid we were going to die. So the next day, Howard suggested we park on Staten Island and take the ferry over, then we’d take the subway and walk around the city vs. driving. I thought it was a pretty damn good idea. I vividly remember crossing the harbor, going right past the statue of liberty, and seeing that beautiful NY skyline with the two huge towers on the lower end of the island. I was giddy and Howard beamed, enjoying my childlike wonderment. We spent three glorious days there and on our last day, Howard wanted to take me to the World Trade Center. I remember pouting because I wanted to see The Empire State building, but we only had time to see one. Howard kept saying, “trust me, you’ll LOVE the WTC.” So I pouted a bit as we hopped on the subway in midtown that would take us directly to the basement of the towers. Once we arrived, I immediately got over my disappointment…the place was huge! And amazing! the basement was an entire mall of activity with restaurants, upscale boutiques and the subway trains whizzing by amongst it all. We grabbed a bite to eat at a quaint deli, and I remember seeing a homeless man loitering right outside the entrance, and the manager of the deli approaching him with a sandwich and a Snapple tea in his hand, giving him the goods, patting his shoulder and the man smiling, thanking the kind man and wandering away. I remember swallowing a lump in my throat at his kindness too. In my three short days, I’d seen lots of shop owners scowling and yelling at the homeless to get the hell away from their business. It is something that has stayed with me. We then went to the main level and walked outside to “the mall” and Howard told me to stand next to the globe and look straight up with my camera. I remember looking up and seeing those two huge towers looming over me and my mouth agape with awe. I took lots of pictures. We then made our way inside (I cannot remember which tower allowed tourists to go to the roof). We passed through metal detectors, security screening, the whole she-bang and finally got our roof tickets. We were escorted by an armed guard into an elevator and zipped up to the top floor in less than a minute. I remember being fascinated by the speed of it. There were window seats where you could literally sit up against the thick glass of the tower and see directly down below. I remember doing that and feeling excited by the nervous thrill of it. Howard just sat back and let me enjoy myself, he’d done it dozens of times in years past. We finally made our way to the roof, and saw they were shooting a music video but the band was from India, so we had no idea who they were but they wanted people to go about their business and wanted to get it on film. Howard, being the ham that he is, walked by the camera and gave a goofy wave. We got a good laugh out of it. We then walked to the edge of the platform and looked out over the city. It was spectacular…Howard took a self portrait of us with the North end of the island in the background, and then we made the long trek back down to earth and back to Staten Island. I was so happy he’d insisted on taking me there, vs. The Empire State building.

On 9/11/01, I had the day off from work, a paid day that was given for doing a good job at work. I remember wanting TUESDAY off, because I really wanted a day to myself to wash our curtains and give our house a thorough cleaning, plus the grocery stores would be deserted, they always were on Tuesdays. Howard had only been gone for about an hour when I flipped through the channels, stopping on a peculiar sight. Smoke billowing from one of the towers….reports that an airplane had “accidently” slammed into it. I remember thinking to myself, “What kind of an idiot runs into a tower that damn big?” I even laughed a little. Then as the reporter was commenting, I saw a small dot on the screen then another explosion on the opposite tower. Then we all knew. This was no accident. My heart jumped up into my throat and I went numb. I remained glued to the tv as reports came across that another plane had just slammed into the Pentagon and they were grounding all US flights, commercial and private, and they had lost radio contact with one plane somewhere over Pennsylvania. I remember watching the towers disintegrate and finally collapse and I burst into tears. We’d been there only three years before! I wanted to talk to Howard but knew he wouldn’t take my call in the middle of class but knew he’d call me as soon as he got word about it. When he did, I could barely keep my composure. He’d only gotten scant details because they didn’t want to throw the kids in a panic. I remember him asking me if the towers had actually fell, I confirmed that they had and he gasped and then concentrated on trying to calm me down. I wanted him to come home immediately. I had no idea what was going on, were we at war? Why had this happened? What was going to happen? I finally calmed down after he promised to come straight home right after his students left for the day. The house cleaning would have to wait today. I couldn’t drag myself away from the television. I held my dog and my cat close to me and wept the rest of the afternoon. By that time, it was confirmed that a plane had gone down in Pennsylvania. I remember hoping maybe they’d just lost contact and landed at a private airport and it was just a big mix up. The day dragged on, Howard finally came home and I ran into his arms and we collapsed on the sofa together and he was able to take in the full scale of what happened. Howard barely held back tears as he watched his beloved city transform into what looked like a war zone. He watched the place where we once stood smiling and laughing hurtle to the ground. It still makes us tear up even four years later. We often wonder if the kind deli manager made it out alive, were there any tourists trapped on the roof? Was there someone in that window seat that saw that plane speeding toward them? Two months after 9/11, we headed back to NY to see his family and spent four days in Manhattan. The buildings were still burning, they were still pulling bodies out, lower Manhattan was still floating in a sea of trash, mainly paper, and the smell of smoke was pungeant. But we stayed anyway. We ate at the restaurants that had survived the tragedy, and shopped in Tribecca, we spent the majority of our time putting our tourism dollars in the part of Manhattan that needed it most. I remember eating lunch at the “Wall Street Grill” and how deserted it was but how happy the owners were that we were patronizing their neck of the woods. How kind and gracious they were. I remember standing in the subway, looking at the big wall maps and random people coming up to us asking if they could help us get somewhere. I remember thinking if 9/11 affected anyone in a positive way, it was the people of that grand city. In 1998, that never happened. I took lots of pictures in 98 atop the tower and we took lots of pictures of ground zero in 01 but now they are safely tucked away. Sacred reminders of how quickly things can change, but how amazingly enough, we as Americans are resilient, Manhattan was/is. And when the new WTC is constructed, I’ll make a pilgramage back to pay homage to the city that stole my heart and the towers that held me while I laughed with joy.

Sep 10

This morning, we held our first official staff meeting at the local cafe (we bought the entire staff breakfast, because we are that nice of an employer). I drank coffee mainly because it was there and now I’m wired. Today is my official day off (I left right after the meeting was over) and I’ve managed to do two loads of laundry, change Katie’s litter box, work on my Argentina photo album and vacuum the the living room and hallway. The photo album is actually an online album but because the pictures are gargantuous, it is taking forever to upload (and it only lets me upload 12 at at time), so I have to transfer the photos, begin the upload and go off to do more housework in between. transfer, begin upload, housework, run back to computer and repeat. (lather, rinse, repeat)

Strange that I drink at least one DMD per day and it doesn’t get me going as much as one cup of coffee does. Maybe the whole thing is psychological.

On a different note, I wanted to remind everyone to please continue to donate and do whatever you can for victims of the hurricane. Also for the animal victims. I cry everytime I see a poor dog or cat frantically looking for refuge on tv. You all know how I love my critters. I’d DIE if I were forced to leave them. Howard said I’d probably die with them if I couldn’t take them with me and he’s probably right. My heart goes out to the owners and the animals.

A sample of my phone conversation with Tess, and I love me some phone conversation with that girl:

Me: Funny, I’ll spend 300 on makeup but I’m a tightwad when it comes to finding a decent cosmetics case.

Tess: You’re a brand whore aren’t you?

Me: Well only when it comes to makeup, when it comes to sheets, I’m a thread count whore.

And I still can’t believe I spent that much on makeup back in January (especially seeing as I only wear foundation, mascara and powder on most days) but I got a shitload of stuff and still get lots of free samples in the mail from Dillard’s in Hickory, NC. Sadly, Amber, the young lady who made that big sale is gone but a new lady has happily taken her place and her name is Betty Anne. Doesn’t that sound like a lady who sells cosmetics? And Betty Anne is not stingy with the free booty either. Last week, I ordered more foundation, mascara and face wash and she sent me an entire case(YES FINALLY THE FREE COSMETICS CASE I WAS BITCHING ABOUT!) packed full of samples. Perfume, lip gloss, concealer, mascara, eye shadow and even a cute little keychain. Even Howard was excited. In fact, he snatched it out of my hands before I even got a good look at what was inside. I think he’s just so excited that I’m making an effort with my looks again. (NEVER EVER did I wear makeup in our previous villages) Hell, I’m even blow drying my hair on a daily basis now.

So, a whore I may be, but I’m a whore where it counts baby!

Sep 9

Okay, so some things are sacred to me…meaning that while I will occasionally talk about my periods, I will not ever make you read about too many other bodily functions because well I really don’t want you think that I poop or fart or pick my nose. Ever. So I leave it to other people to write about it and they do it well. This is the funniest post and I meant to post it a long time ago but didn’t. So enjoy…it’s just fucking hilarious. (mom, the “Fucking” was necessary, okay? to call it simply hilarious would not do it justice) Warning: It involves pooping.

Sep 8

My reproductive organs clearly baffle me. Birth Control pills are supposed to trick your body into thinking you’ve ovulated, therefore giving you a period every month while preventing pregnancy. Some women take them for the latter reason and some people take them for the first reason. Which is me. I like periods regularly, thank you very much. I have grown tired of waiting and waiting for sometimes up to a year for my body to remember that while my ovaries are sound asleep and defunct, I am still a female and just please flush out my uterus already! Then when it does decide to come, it stays and stays for sometimes up to four months. Four months of a period. Can you imagine living my SUPER HORMONED charged self after that? Howard has for 12 years. He’s either a glutton for punishment, or just really fucking loves me. I’ve yet to put my finger on exactly which reason.

Well.

This is supposed to THE week for my period and it has yet to arrive. I begin my new set of pills on Sunday night. Apparantly my ovaries are actually functioning and it’s thrown my body for a loop, or my body is just not being fooled dammit. It’s accustomed to withholding the periods until it sees fit, NOT when some god damn pill tells it to please cooperate.

My Ovaries: Guess what? We totally ovulated this month.

My Body: You are so lying!

My Ovaries: No shit, we’re serious! Dude. Would we lie to you?

My Body: Lying. Hell to the No.

Even my body parts are dysfunctional.

Sep 6

GOOD LAWD! What a day. I feel like I’ve been shat out of a bull elephant’s arse. No lie.

Between putting up with employees who have been resistant to change (hey fucker, things change, I know you did it that way when *John was here but this is how it’s done now), and running my ass off because another employee got bumped off his flight back yesterday, I’m pooped. I need a stiff drink. Alcohol with a double shot of alcohol, and a twist of alcohol.

* Names changed to protect the innocent

Also, for the past week, we’ve had lots of hunters arriving in town but unfortunately unable to get to their final destination (which is downriver) because of bad weather. They are friendly and most of them pretty cute, but I must have explained myself 5 million times today. I guess I’m getting bored right along with them…and don’t ask me why they insist on asking me this time and again:

Me: Hey, how are ya’ll doin’ today?

Them: You don’t sound like you’re from Alaska

Me: I’m not, I’m originally from North Carolina

Them: What brings a young little gal like yourself all the way up here to Alaska?

Me: Well we always wanted to come to AK and we had this friend..(I will spare you the details but I went into the whole deal about how we came up here)..

Them: Well you’re to be admired, honey. (I got called honey, sugar, babydoll, darlin’ about the same amount of times) This can be tough place.

Me: Yep, I know, but so far, it’s been a fun adventure.

But I gotta tell ya after the umpteenth time of explaining myself, I couldn’t resist any longer.

Them: How did a young girl like yourself end up here?

Me: I’m running from the law.

Them: *laughs* No really why.

Me: No really. I am. *stares and blinks, poker faced*

Them: Honestly?

Me: You bet…(then I can’t keep my cool, and I burst into laughter and say “No ya’ll I’m just kiddin’.)

I am such a fucking dork, the humor is completely lost on it all.

Now about that drink….

Sep 4

I did, however, buy my plane tickets for vacation in January. And I’m giddy because the defunct Hickory regional airport which is like 10 minutes from my memaw’s (where we stay when we go back to NC) is now NOT defunct and has commercial daily flights and by God, I surely found two tickets flying right into that airport. This is awesome because now I don’t have to ask someone to please rearrange their schedule so they can drive the hour and half to Charlotte to pick us up at the airport (this usually falls to my mom and stepdad). Hell, we can land and then I can just call someone while Howard is at the baggage claim. It does not get any better than that (unless of course, we just owned our own private jet and landed in the backyard).

Sep 4

You know you’re bored when you spend the better part of a half hour surfing the net finding the PERFECT cosmetics case. Not a showerhead, or a humidifier or even a good bathroom scale (I already found one of those), but a friggin’ cosmetics case. I’m amazed at how picky I am. I went to Sephora, MAC, Clinique (who should have given me a free case because I spend insane amounts of money with them, but then again, I probably would not have liked the color), Chanel and even the Dillard’s and Sak’s website and found only ONE (the large bag) that satisfied me. It is perfect, not terribly expensive and exactly the style I need. But guess what? Sephora is out of stock! All that surfing for them to be TEMPORARILY OUT OF STOCK.

New Orleans is washed away killing thousands and I’m fretting over good cosmetics cases. Please don’t lecture me. But hey, while donating money and soliciting donations, a girl’s gotta be armed with a good cosmetics case, don’t you think?

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