Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Sad Moment

I have to dump my new best girlfriend.

We will call him Hoover here. Yes, him. Hoover is actually a guy, but he was nonetheless a good girlfriend - we laughed our asses off, gabbed about who we were dating and (who he was) sleeping with, went trail running together, bitched about our bosses, showed each other our new clothes from shopping, and talked on the phone and texted a million times a day.

But now he has to go... Hoover has a cocaine problem that just keeps getting the best of him. And it's really disturbing my own serentiy and sobriety.

I have known Hoover since January, but have only been invested in this friendship for approximately two months. I regret it already. I tried to avoid being friends altogether once I found out about his cocaine use, but Hoover is charming and persistent and makes me want to hug him and do whatever I can do to help him. He's sort of like a Dennis the Menace - he wreaks havoc in his own life, and thus in the lives of people around him. But you adore him anyway because he is irresistably cute and helpless, as only a child can be.

And it has been my life's pattern to find guys exactly like this, and try to save their souls. I'm on dangerous ground here.

Like I told him when I explained why we couldn't date: I AM FINISHED WITH FIXER-UPPERS. I am over it. I have enough broken and needy people in my life already (like my family, for instance, see previous blogs for hillbilly updates), that I do not need to run right out and augment my stable of people who NEED something from me to make their own lives whole.

Hoover was attracted to my sobriety - he basks in its presence. ... Until he runs out and hoovers up a bunch of cocaine and disappears for a week.

I just can't consent to be the palliative presence entre-temps.

It hurts me to see my friends hurt themselves. I cried last week when I found out he was out on a binge. We had just run 5 miles the day before and he was so proud of himself for being in the "double digits," as he said, on his number of days of sobriety. He had two weeks under his belt. And he went out that nght after our run and gave all that up...

Hoover is a new friend. I think I have to let him go now before I go into the Savior Mode of my former self, the one where I concentrate on fixing what's wrong with everyone else so much that I forget about all the things that I have to work on for myself, in myself. Hoover can only offer a one-sided friendship that will drain the life out of me. It's already starting. I'm losing sleep over his problems!

So, he's got to go.

G'bye Hoover. I'll miss you.

Monday, September 25, 2006

My Celebrity boob twin?

Your Celebrity Boob Twin:

Charlize Theron

You know, I really do not like that word "boob." It's just an unpleasant, sloppy word for such a lovely body part. And when you call a person a boob, you insult him. That's just silly - why, I think calling a person a boob should be a compliment of the highest order, signifying that they are soft and beautiful and that to be in their presence is comforting somehow.

Now that I think about it, I guess all sexual body parts turn out to be insults when hurled appropriately at your interlocutor. But, why should that be?

What a majestic thing a penis is. Why on earth should it also be a condemnation?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Heart Burn

I have NO groceries in my house, so I am reduced to eating my bloody mary bar.

Yes, you heard that right.

This year I reinstituted the South Austin grand tradition of the Pre-Austin City Limits Breakfast Taco and Bloody Mary Brunch. So, this past Saturday morning, I cooked up bloody marys for 30 of my closest friends before we all headed out to the festival grounds.

ANYWAY, the point is that I have ONLY bloody mary ingredients in my kitchen. And so that’s what I had for dinner tonight:

(1) two Vlasic Kosher Crunchy Dill Pickles - mygod, I love these! Maybe not as much as this crazy chic,
(2) some salsa
(3) some Spanish olives
(4) two glasses of spicy V-8
(5) some pickled okra
(6) a garlic stuffed olive; and
(7) some pickled asparagus spears.

And the BAD-ASS bloody mary bar doesn’t end there …

It included horseradish, wasabi, olives marinated in chilis, blue-cheese stuffed olives, indeed, many fine olive varietals ranging in size from 200-220 all the way up to 70-80, pepperoncinis, pickled carrots, pickled beets (OMG – if you are EVER in Fort Mill, S. Carolina – you HAVE to go to The Peach Stand), escabeche, Worchestershire (how the eff do you spell that?) sauce, habanero sauce, tomatillo salsa, pickled cherry pepper popper thingys, one of my fave secret ingredients, pickled cayenne peppers, and the rest shall remain nameless (mainly because I can’t remember and my heart burn is so bad right now I can’t be bothered to go do inventory).


So, I went ahead and dumped Mr. Incredible.

Then along came another guy with flowers. I said no.

I am on Guy-aitus.

Which probably isn’t such a bad thing, I guess, since I keep effing up my interesting new concept birth control.

The (somewhat) funny thing about this is that I somehow thought it would be a good idea if I synchronized my dog’s flea preventative medicine schedule with my own nuvaring schedule.

But now that I have it all messed up, not only do I have the (highly theoretical immaculate conception kind of) possibility of becoming pregnant, but I might also get fleas.

Sunday, September 03, 2006


So, many of you know that I am in North Carolina hanging out with some really cool wake board friends.

I have learned many new skills here and I am VERY excited about it.

Skill #1: Surface 180

Skill #2: Ollie, but they call it a 'bunny hop' in these written instructions.

Basically, an ollie is such a lame trick that there really isn't anyone shooting video of themselves doing it.

Except maybe me.

Here's a shot of one of my lame ollies:

Skill #3: Aqua Dump. No video for this one. Use your imagination.


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