Curiosity got the best of me and I ended up calling the friend back.  Wouldn’t you know it, before I even got to say hello she was launching into what mess her life is.  She told me about a car accident that she got into, she went on about how bad her cramps were this month and about how she has managed to go through yet another job.  Of course she never asked how I was feeling or doing or about how my husbands new job was going.  As a matter of fact she never even mentioned me.  She put me on hold 3 times, and when she put me on hold the third time I got annoyed and hung up.  She then called me back and proceeded to attempt to tear me a new one for hanging up, because her phone plan has free incoming but she has to pay for outgoing and why would I hang up when I know this.  Well, I hung up because I basically have the same plan and she had already put me on hold two other times for about 2-3 minutes each time.  I was fed up, pissed off and I really didn’t feel like talking about her anymore and her dysfunctional life.  When she started to sense that the end of the conversation was imminent, she finally laid it on me.  She needed money, do I have any she could borrow?  The answer was most likely the most resounding no that I have ever stated in my entire life of saying no.  She was so shocked (I think) that she hung up on me and I haven’t heard from her since. 

This was on Thursday for the record.  If this friendship is over then I’m not really sure on who’s terms they ended on, but if I’m right and it’s over then at least I can say that I’m done.  I know it’s immature, but caller ID was developed for this reason I think. 

I finally gave up on Stephen King for now.  I have way too many books and I feel like reading things that I know I can get through quickly.  So, I’m bringing on the Chick Lit (Emily Giffin’s new book and Jennifer Weiner’s new book).  I enjoy them and I know I won’t be able to put them down so I should cruise through those quickly enough.

I did pick up a fun little book though called I before E except after C.  It’s basically all about mnemonic devices.  I actually started reading that one today.  So far I’m enjoying it because who couldn’t use a little help remembering stuff?  

My husband is no longer working for the bank.  Now he is working for Diebold.  Basically he will be the guy who is standing outside or wherever trying and hopefully succeeding in fixing the ATM’s.  He felt the need to start a new job because the bank he was working for basically told him that he would never be promoted unless someone quit or died.  There is nothing encouraging about that kind of environment and quite frankly he was getting bored at the bank job.  He was doing the same thing day in and day out, and it was not working with his hands like he enjoys doing. 

I find it a little scary that he will be responsible for fixing a machine that dispenses cash and not because of the money part.  He’s dealt with greater sums of money than what is available in an ATM at any given moment.  No, what bothers me is that when something goes wrong with the computers at home, he freezes and I’m the one who has to fix them.  If it’s technological, it’s my job to fix them around here.  And he’s going to be responsible for fixing an ATM?

 And on another bright note:  my other girlfriend (the stable married one) is pregnant and expecting their second child in October.  I’ve known about this for quite some time now but seeing as how it isn’t me that’s knocked up I have neglected to mention it. 

On Mother’s Day I had sent her a text message to wish her a happy Mother’s Day because, well because I like her.  She had asked me where I was when I was sending the message and I really thought nothing of it.  I told her I was over at my mom’s and we continued to send messages for another couple minutes.  Finally I told her to go enjoy her Mother’s Day and 10 minutes later my mom’s doorbell rang. 

It was my girlfriend who had come over, because according to her it had to be done on Mother’s Day, to ask me if I would be the second child’s Godmother.  Of course I said yes!  It was actually a little funny (to me at least) the way she phrased it.  She said  “I know that you aren’t really religious (kind of true) but would you be the baby’s Godmother?”  Seriously, who can resist that?  So of course for the rest of the day/night I was walking around saying random quotes from the Godfather movies and doing my best female Marlon Brando impersonation. 

I think when you meet a new person they should come with a warning label. 

Caution:  The contents of this person may cause long term disturbance to your self-esteem.  This person may only want to be your friend because they sense that you are somehow a push over.  She will only call you when she needs money or to make herself feel better about the shitty decisions she makes in her own life.  She will expect you not to judge her and somehow encourage her in her wicked ways.  Although, when you do try to help her, she will proceed to shut you out and make you feel like telling her the truth was the dumbest thing you could have done.  She will then pass you over for every major decision in her life and tell you why you were passed over to make you feel somehow guilty about being honest.

Maybe this warning label is too exact.  Maybe this is just the warning label that my other “close” friend should have come with, because had I seen it on her I think I would have run for the hills screaming about the end of the world. 

I knew something was up when she called yesterday morning at 8:30 am.  I knew it and because of caller ID, I chose to screen.  When someone calls you at 8:30 in the morning and on your house phone, they want money.  I know she needed money because she didn’t leave a message and she didn’t call my cell phone.  That means she was circling the area in hopes that I was home and that she could stop and pick up the money.  I know her, she would tell you that I don’t know her, but I do know her and I know her too well. 

I find it funny that she wants to borrow money from me because she knows I’m not working.  I do side jobs and I make just enough money to go to the grocery store and do little odds and ends for myself.  My husband is a good man who works to pay the bills.  And she knows that he just started a new job.  She must be under the mistaken impression that they paid him the day that he showed up to fill out the paperwork.

I want to be a good friend and do what I can to help her.  But, I don’t know where the friendship should end and debt collector should start.  This woman has borrowed money from me in the past, and I never minded.  But now it just feels like she only calls me because she needs something.  I have watched her daughter for free, after she said that she would pay me.  And I’m not mad or bitter that she didn’t pay me, but she acted like I somehow owed her 10 hours of my life to watch her kid.  She’s a single mom, but she has a live in boyfriend.  When I asked her where the boyfriend would be, she said that he was going out skateboarding with some friends, while she worked a 10 hour shift as a waitress.  When I tried to politely ask why the boyfriend wasn’t working, she said that she didn’t want him to due to some health problems.  When I tried to ask what the health problems were, she avoided the issue.  Whatever they are, all I know is that he is healthy enough to go skateboarding while she worked three to four part time jobs. 

I know better than to question about her choices in men too much because of the last time I told her I didn’t like a boyfriend of hers.  She didn’t believe that he cornered me in their new apartment while they were moving and felt it was his right as my best friends fiancee to feel me up.  After that little confession, I was cut out of her life for 3 years because apparently I made the whole thing up, according to him.  When we ran into each other all those years later she told me how she caught him making out with the person she had chosen to take my place.  I guess the new friend didn’t have the morals that I had because she (the new friend) didn’t stop him.  That happened 4 weeks after she cut me out of her life. 

Anyway, she called me again early this morning.  I get the feeling that I’m going to get another early morning phone call tomorrow too.  If she was calling my cell I would think that she needs someone to talk to.  Which is ok, I’m a good listener.  Granted the last time she called me when she was in a bad mood, it rubbed off on me. 

Am I a bad person for avoiding her?  Should I be calling her back to make sure everything is ok?  Thoughts and suggestions anybody? 

I have managed to read a couple of the books that I had posted awhile ago.  Then, I added a few more.  I actually added more than I had read.  I remembered that I had a couple Stephen King books that I had bought but hadn’t read yet.  And then my husband and I had gone to the mall and what mall visit would be complete without a trip to the bookstore?  Then of course there was the trip to the dollar store, and it has just been an amazing source of books I wouldn’t mind reading lately.  I would call this a vicious circle but I keep doing it to myself. 

What is even worse is that I know there is some chick lit book out today that I want to go buy and I used the last of my Barnes and Noble gift card from Christmas (it had like $250 on it, dad likes to keep me in supply) about a week ago.  The books I ordered from Barnes and Noble though are all pre-orders, so I have some time until those show up.  Sadly, it will most likely take me until those show up to read the first Stephen King book. 

The books I did manage to get through were Then We Came to the End and Little Children.  I feel awful saying that I didn’t love both or either book.  The first one was set in Chicago, and what had drawn me to it was that it was about working in an office.  I thought, who doesn’t know what that is like.  I had even sat down to read through some of it to make sure that it would be worth my money and my time.  I feel disappointed in it.  I mean, it resolved itself well enough but it was slightly disappointing.  It was just, weird.  The writing style was weird, the story telling was weird, the story was weird.  I wanted to love it, or even really really like it, but alas it was not to be.

Little Children went on a little too long at the end.  The problem was I had seen the movie first.  I had really liked the movie and I thought that if I really liked the movie than I was bound to love the book.  Not so much.  It took too long to get to the end.  I knew how it was going it end and maybe that was my problem.  I knew what the ending was and I was frustrated that the author wasn’t getting there as quickly as the movie had.  About 100 pages from the end, I started skipping sections.  About 50 pages from the end, I skipped to the last chapter/section.  I just gave up.  It was taking too long.  I’m ashamed.

Now, I’m trying to read Cell by Stephen King.  I must have mentioned my love/hate relationship with Stephen King.  He’s a really good writer.  He makes you really care about the characters, but it takes him so damned long to get into the story.  Even when the story starts right away, it takes forever.  It’s like you have to get over this hump and then you just can’t put the book down.  Until that moment though, it’s like being stuck in rush hour traffic.  Of course now it’s going to take me twice as long as it normally would to read it because I know that I have another one of his books waiting in the wings.  

Hopefully I’ll feel that kick in the butt and I’ll just be able to sit down one of these days and knock these suckers out.  If not, you’ll all be seeing a lot more pictures of the books I have to find a way to get through again.  I’ll do my best to keep everyone updated on the situation and hopefully I’ll be able to report that I absolutely loved one of these books.

My husband recently acquired his license.  No, I am not married to a 16 year old.  Sickos.  And really, living in the suburbs of Chicago you can actually get around quite nicely without a license or a car.  We live down the street from a train station and have our choice of several bus routes to get us around.  Not that I ever use these things.  Hah!  I have my license. 

My husband has epilepsy, and for that reason he wasn’t able to get a license.  He had a doctor that thought that it was a bad idea, then he had another doctor that was just…well, he was a jerk who insisted that my husband was crazy.  The doctor after that changed hospitals before my husband had been going to him for a year, but on the bright side changed his medicine to something different and it worked out quite well.  The doctor my husband goes to now wouldn’t give him permission to get a license until he went a year without seizures. 

So, finally all of the stars aligned and his doctor gave him permission to get a license.  As a wonderful turn of events this all happened around the same time that I had to go and get mine renewed (woo hoo for 10 years without a ticket).  We ended up getting up at the ass crack of dawn one day so that we could be standing in line and the first ones into the hell dimension known as the DMV so that we could get in and out of there as quickly as possible.  There was also the added hope that my husband would be one of the first people that a test instructor would be in a car with and therefor in a better mood than if we had come, say around lunch time after he’s had to deal with maybe a dozen people who really shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a vehicle. 

Let me say that the people who work at the DMV put up with a hell of a lot more in one hour than I think I would be willing to deal with in a lifetime.  At 8:30 on a Thursday morning a clerk was already being berated by a man who didn’t have everything he needed in order to renew his license.  As if his being unprepared is somehow her fault.  As far as I could tell she was not his wife nor his mother, and since this man was all grown up I think it was most likely his responsibility to read the letter he got in the mail telling him what he would need in order to renew his license.  Instead he blamed the clerk.  Who then had the job of helping my husband while I was with the clerk next to the poor woman who was getting her head chewed off by this asshat. 

So long story short (yeah I know, too late), these kind and wonderful people gave my husband permission to drive.  Now, I’ve been the driver the whole time my husband and I have been together.  I drove everywhere.  I could not go out with my husband and have a drink with dinner because I would have to drive us home.  If we went to a party, I couldn’t drink.  I realize that my sole focus is drinking and it makes me sound like some kind of raving alchoholic, but I’m not, I was just deprived and restricted to drinking in my own home and since my husband doesn’t drink it makes for a kind of lonely drinking existence.  My husband was a passenger seat driver, and I think a lot of my road rage came from him trying to tell me how to drive when he wasn’t the one behind the wheel and dealing with the idiots day in and day out.  But now he knows. 

Now he knows why I would get so angry.  Now he knows why I always wanted to drink.  Now I’m the one sitting in the passenger seat.  And I kind of like it.  Actually, more than kind of, I love the freaking freedom that comes with not being the one who has to drive all the time.  I get to talk on my phone and not have to drop it because some idiot cut me off.  I can check my text messages when they come in instead of an hour later when I finally remember that I got one while I was driving.  I can read the mail if I want to.  Or I can just look out the window and take in the sights and notice things that I didn’t get to notice before because I was too busy staring at the car in front of me hoping that it wouldn’t slam on it’s brakes for no reason whatsoever.  I let him drive everywhere now, just because I can.  I really do think that this will help me to love driving again, because I was really starting to hate it for a little while there.  And if it doesn’t help me to love driving again, at least I know that I’ll be able to have that margarita with dinner after all. 

I once drove through a tornado.  I knew I was driving through a tornado too.  The people in my car had no idea until we got home.

I was about 17/18 I think.  It was one of those oppressively humid July days in Chicago.  The air was so heavy that it was actually hard to breathe.  Since there was a large group of us (about 10-15) we couldn’t all hang out at one persons house, and god forbid we disperse so that we could be in air conditioning.  Nope, instead we went go carting.  There was a pretty decent place about 20 minutes away from us.  The prices were good, the track was big and we could do some real damage, and the guy knew us and liked us enough to put up with our shenanigans. 

We had all started out racing, but me and a few of the other girls got bored after a few laps and decided that we wanted to go sit and smoke and watch the boys basically make asses of themselves. 

What I remember clearly is how one minute it was so hot and I was just sweating in the sun, and the next minute there was a really cool breeze and the sky was dark.  I looked up and realized that the sun had been blotted out by the green sky.  It’s kind of terrifying to realize that you are looking at green and not hearing any alarms.  I got into my car and turned it on and was listening to the radio only to hear what I already knew.  There was a tornado watch, and funnel clouds had been spotted right around the area that we were in. 

I left the car running and flipped my seats forward (it was a 2 door car and we had ridden in full capacity) and ran over to the fence to tell my passengers that we had to go right now.  I then told the other people to do the same thing that I had done (start the car, open the doors) so that we could get everyone into cars quickly.  Around the same time, the alarms started and the go cart guy decided it may be time to close up shop, so luckily there was no whining.

My passengers got into the car quickly enough and I was able to get into my car and hit the gas and get out of dodge before anyone else.  While we were on our way home, the passengers were just talking and had no idea really why I was freaking out.  Of course they had no idea because they weren’t seeing what I was seeing in my rearview mirror or in my moon roof.  And what I saw was swirling. 

I’ve never been a fan of tornadoes.  I’ve actually never been stuck in one, I haven’t been in an area where one has hit while I’ve been there; it’s just something I fear because I see the destruction it leaves in it’s wake.  My boyfriend at this time had taken me to see Twister in the movie theater, and the whole time I was convinced (because it was the right weather) that a tornado was going on outside the entire time we were at the movie. 

When the hail started, I should have pulled over.  When the horizontal rain started, I should have pulled over.  When I saw the swirling, I should have pulled over underneath an overpass.  When I saw a funnel cloud drop just a little, I should have stopped underneath an overpass and made everyone get out of the car and go cower with the pigeons.  But, I didn’t.  I hit the gas and went even faster.  I just wanted to get home.  I had no intention of dying under an overpass.  Nope, I wanted to die in my car trying to get home.  If my passengers knew what I was doing, they may have insisted that I pull over to what they thought would be safety.  I was not dumb, I had no intention of telling them what I saw.  Instead I had to field a million stupid questions.

“That hail didn’t last too long, did it?”

“Wow, the rain is coming down sideways.  Is it really windy or what?”

“What does it mean when the sky is green?”

“Can you see the others?  You left really quickly.”

“Why are you going so fast?  Doesn’t 90 seem excessive?”

“Do I hear storm sirens?”

“Can I turn the radio back on now?”

“Why are all of those other cars pulling over?”

“Did I just see people under that bridge?”

We all made it home safely.  I just happend to make it home safely first.  I remember pulling into my boyfriends driveway, shutting off and crawling out of the car.  Then I crawled to the front porch and proceeded to chain smoke for about 15 minutes.  I was still smoking when the others arrived.  It was when the others showed up that my passengers had found out about the funnel clouds.  They were a little angry, but the drivers of the other cars were impressed by my ability to drive so quickly and safely. 

By the time we had gotten home, the storm had already passed our area so we were safe there and the weather had cooled off.  This allowed us to be able to sit outside it realitive peace, and give me shit for the rest of the night about how stupid and reckless (according to the people who had been in my car, who not only made it home alive, but safely too) I had acted. 

I grew up with hounds, as in dogs.  We had a beagle named Tippi and a basset named Tyler.  That beagle was sweet as hell, but the basset would rip your face off if given the chance.

Anyway, I can’t remember what time of year it was but it sticks in my mind that it was during spring/summer. 

Our laundry room was in our basement.  It wasn’t a finished basement so it was pretty cold; a cement floor, a pantry leading down the stairs where we kept our canned foods and boxed foods and of course the sublevel window.  This was also the place where crap landed.  Which is most likely why this happend.

My mom was going downstairs one day to do a load of laundry, and something leapt across her field of vision.  She screamed, I heard it very clearly, dropped the laundry basket and came running back up the stairs screaming “There’s an elephant down there!”  (There was also some very bad lighting)  I laugh hysterically now, because what she was screaming was completely ridicilous.  Seriously, wouldn’t a household of three people and two dogs notice if an elephant snuck down to the basement?  I like to think that we would have noticed.

What we wouldn’t notice though, were squirrels.  This was discovered after my very panicked mother called my father at work and demanded that he come home right now.  He came home, went down to the basement and discovered that there were no elephants, but there were squirrels.  After the discovery came the two hour long discussion about how to get the squirrels out of the basement.  I was young enough to ask why we had to do that.  Why couldn’t we just keep them?  My parents assured me that we were not in fact running a squirrel motel and that if clean clothes and a steady supply of macaroni and cheese (to which I was and still am addicted to) were going to continue to happen, then we had to somehow remove the squirrels. 

Enter the hounds.  Who were not trained to be houndlike.  They were taught to sit by the kid at the dinner table and she would definately drop stuff down to them when she encountered something she didn’t like to eat.  In other words, hunting was not in their canine vocabulary.  But my dad was convinced that we he could drag lure the dogs down to the basement and their natural instincts as hounds would kick in.  Hah!  You have to keep in mind that we lived in the suburbs.  We had trees and a garden in our backyard.  Squirrels and rabbits were run of the mill.  I think that most of the time the squirrels and rabbits laughed at the dogs and their inability to do what they were bred to do.  The dogs would bark at them, but most of the time I think our dogs thought the squirrels and rabbits were just very small quiet dogs.  The biggest game our dogs knew of was the mailman.  He was the enemy, not the outdoor animals. 

My dad finally managed to get the dogs down to the basement (they were like me, they did not like the basement and would avoid it at all costs).  Once down in the basement, the dogs ran around like nut cases.  They had no idea what they were looking for, let alone try to find a scent.  The beagle (Tippi) was the one to finally notice that the outdoor scents had somehow moved inside. 

Our basement door was right across from our back door.  My mom had set up the baby gate in between these two doors and the kitchen.  This way when the scared squirrels were running up the stairs for their lives they wouldn’t get confused and dart into the kitchen and subsequently the rest of the house.  We had the back door propped open, and two dogs in the basement. 

Like I said, Tippi is the one who finally caught a scent and realized it.  She started to bay.  For anyone who hasn’t heard a hound bay, it sounds kind of like a wolf howl only not as mournful.  Beagles and bassets have very distinctive bays.  If you heard it, you would know it.  And this is the first time that I ever heard these two dogs bay at something that they were bred to bay at.  Usually this was a sound that alerted us to the arrival of our mailman (i.e. the dogs mortal enemy).  Tyler must have either caught the scent too, or just started to bay because it was what Tippi was doing.  For all I know, he thought the mailman was in the basement (these were not the smartest dogs). 

All the barking and baying and encourgement from my dad finally alerted the squirrels that the jig was up and it was time to get out.  The dogs chased these poor squirrels around the basement, baying the whole time, for about 5-10 minutes.  They finally managed to get the squirrels up and out the doors while only a few steps behind the terrified squirrels.  It was the quickest I had ever seen these dogs move on the steps. 

From that point on, I don’t think the squirrels and rabbits ever felt safe again.  I think they knew that the dogs were on to them.  My dad found out how the squirrels had gotten into the house in the first place and fixed it so that we wouldn’t have any more unwelcome visitors.  The dogs were fully rewarded with an extra cup of food at their dinner time and all the table scraps they could handle during ours. 

Toaist Biker stole the idea, so I therefore stole the idea from him. 

My husband is a huge comic book collector and I constantly make fun of him for this.  I often pick a character that is nothing like his favorite characters just to piss him off.  Other times I will pick a character that is his favorite characters love interest so that I feel like my husband and I actually have real stuff in common (because in our house comic book characters are real stuff). 

The funny part of this quiz is that my husband and I took this quiz in seperate rooms and as you can see, I’m Catwoman and my husband is Batman.  Batman is his favorite character from DC.  I’m actually a little disappointed that I’m Catwoman, I always pictured myself as more of a Dark Phoenix or Jean Gray  (these two women are actually one in the same) and my husband as more of a Wolverine. 

You are Catwoman

Catwoman 85% Green Lantern 75% Spider-Man 70% Wonder Woman 60% Robin 60% Hulk 55% The Flash 50% Iron Man 45% Batman 40% Supergirl 35% Superman 25%

You have had a tough childhood, you know how to be a thief and exploit others but you stand up for society’s cast-offs

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

The part of the quiz that I find hilarious is the 50% Flash.  Yeah, I don’t run so the only reason I can think that I may be in any way the Flash is because I’m sarcastic.  In truth, I’m more surprised that I’m only 55% Hulk.  I once got so mad at an XBox controller that I threw it down and proceeded to step on it and crush it in a Hulk type manner.  It most likely just needed new batteries, but this is the temper that I was given possesion of in life. 

   Remember when Snapple used to be really cool?  There were the Snapple lady commercials where she would answer random questions about Snapple.  Then all of a sudden, one day they were gone.  Snapple was still around but for unknown reasons they didn’t feel the need to advertise anymore. 

   On the random occasions that I walk into a gas station, or on the more frequent occasions that I go to Walgreen’s when I’m not on my way home (you know, where the beverages are free) I always buy some kind of Snapple product.  I even found Snapple tea (like the kind that you brew for a hot cup of tea) and felt compelled to buy it.

And the reason why I think I keep buying Snapple products is because of the little bits of random information that can be found on the inside of their lids.  Not only is my thirst being quenched, but I’m learning something.

OK, so I was tagged by Betme to do a list of fives.  First off, for reasons I am unsure of, I have never been comfortable with the number five, so with that said, I give you my list.

Five Things in my Bag:

1. Sunglasses:  Very important to the happiness of my driving.  I always need to have my sunglasses, no sunglasses equals a very unhappy Sarah.
2. Wallet:  This post might as well have been five things in my wallet.  I could probably live without my purse, but that’s only because I keep everything in my wallet.  And yes, those are skulls on my wallet.  They are Jack Skellington heads from The Nightmare Before Christmas which is one of my favorite movies.
3. Gum:  If my dentist were to see this post, he would be very disappointed in me.  I’m not actually supposed to chew gum due to issues I have with my jaw.  But, who can resist Orbit melon mint or whatever the hell it’s called.
4. Notebook with a pen attached:  As Allison said in her five things post, you never know when a blog idea will strike. 
5. Electronics:  It’s sick, but the phone I have has an MP3 player and a camera in it.  And yet, because the phone is new I still carry my iPod and digital camera with me.  You can’t see the camera in this picture, because it’s what I’m taking the picture with obviously.  Oy people.

Five Things in my Room:  (Ok, one of these things isn’t from the bedroom, but I’m not going to show you the porn collection, so instead I took a picture of mine and my husbands favorite piece of art that we bought together.  It may end up in the bedroom at some point in the near futute anyway.) 

1. My side of the bed:  On it are my alarm clock, a bottle of lotion because dry skin is my enemy, chapstick, foot healing balm and the jewlery that I wear the most often.
2. Always Kiss me Goodnight:  I was guilty of going to bed angry a lot.  It was when I was working at the library and I guess I took things out on my husband.  It got ugly for awhile, and last year after being unemployed for a few months I found this sign at a craft fair.  It’s worked.  No matter how angry one of us is, we always kiss goodnight now.
3. The bed:  First off, yes at 29 going on 30 years old I still sleep with a stuffed bear.  I can’t help it, it makes me feel better and my husband doesn’t complain about it.  Second, those are pet stairs at the foot of the bed.  The damned cat refuses to use them, but I’m afraid that she will give up all hope of getting up onto the bed if I move them.
4. My Coach purse:  This is the most expensive and extravagant purse that I own.  I really never get to use it because it’s basically just a clutch and doesn’t have anywhere near enough space in it, but it’s mine and I love it. 
5. The artwork:  It’s a digital image of The Devil and an Angel playing chess with humans.  Let’s face it, isn’t that how it feels sometimes.  On either side are a couple of my favorite dragons.  These aren’t in the bedroom right now, but my husband and I have plans to buy some more artwork and I get the feeling that this one, dark as it may seem, may end up in the bedroom at some point. 

Five Things I am Into:  (In no particular order)

1. Reading:  I’m very into the reading.  I have about 6 bookcases of various sizes to prove my love of reading.  They are all full of my books.  I will attempt to read anything.  I love the classics.  It took me forever to get through Vanity Fair because of  the style it was written in, but I did it and I felt really good about it.  I’ve discovered since I’m not working that I’m picking up a lot of non-fiction books like Don’t Know Much about Mythology and books like that.  Stuff I feel like I should know, but maybe I don’t.  My husband may occupy one half of a shelf on one of the bookcases.  To be fair though, he occupies a good part of the closets with his boxes full of comic books.
2. Body art:  Even if I’m not covered in tattoos and piercings I love to pick up magazines about such.  I have been known to walk into a tattoo studio to just look around and see what other people are getting.  The people who work in these shops seem OK with me doing that.  I don’t do it every week or anything but I’ve done it more than once.  I also have a list of tattoos that I want to get.  I’ve taken the idea to several shops to have them drawn up (I can’t draw and I don’t know any of my friends who can) and have the prices quoted so that I know what I’m working up to.  A lot of people don’t like tattoos and piercings.  They say that if you weren’t meant to be covered in ink and piercings than God would have given them to you.  I say if he didn’t want me to have them, he wouldn’t have given me a blank canvas to work with.
3. Music:  I love music.  There is a song for every mood, thought, and feeling.  Music can be inspiring.  Music can bring you out of a funk, and occassionally it can work you into one.  I can’t live without music.  I listen to it everyday.  I know a lot of people who listen to talk radio and audio books, but words just distract me.  Music though, that’s like a heartbeat.  Actually, a heartbeat is music.   
4. Dragons:  If dragons were real, I would want to own one.  But since they aren’t my husband humors me by buying me just about anything that is a dragon.  I’m picky about my dragons though.  I don’t like Asian dragons because they look too much like snakes (I’m afraid of snakes).  If it doesn’t have wings, then it’s not really a dragon.  My husband isn’t the only one who indulges me in this dragon fixation, most of my friends and my parents do too, but my husband tends to take on the brunt of this collection.
5. Photography:  My dad is a professional photographer and I think he always hoped that I would follow.  I’m reluctant photographer.  I tend to look at something after it happens and wish that I had taken a picture of it.  I try to go for the arty pictures, and they always come out blurry.  I prefer black and white to color.  Black and white makes you think about what you’re looking at.  It’s just nicer to look at sometimes, at least in my opinion.

Five Things I Have Always Wanted to do:  (In no particular order)

1. Bungee jump:  I don’t know why.  I don’t even know if people do this anymore.  Falling has never scared me though.  Flying, now that scares the crap out of me, but if I had to jump from a plane, I would probably feel a rush that could not even be described.
2. Travel:  I want to go to Europe.  Problem is I’m afraid to fly and I have claustrophobia.  These are two things that don’t bode well with an 8 hour flight across an ocean.  There is also the lack of money thing.  I’m good with flying within the country, but across an ocean and I can feel the panic attack right now. 
3. Write:  I know, I’m writing now.  I want to be able to write a book or a story or an article.  I guess I’m saying that I want to be published.  Maybe this technically counts.  Maybe I want people to have to pay for what I’m writing.  I want to be paid for writing something.  Wow, I’m babbling.
4. Drive a Dodge Viper:  I know it’s silly, but the first time I saw this car I fell in love.  Or maybe it’s lust, anyway something guides me to this car.  It is my dream car.  I want it, I want to be inside of it.
5. Work a clutch:  I have tried over and over to drive a manual transmission car.  It never ends well for the car.  I’m convinced that if I can learn to work the damned clutch in a car than I can finally learn to ride a motorcycle and perhaps I won’t die in a fiery wreck. 

I promise I will get around to that meme that Betme has tagged me for, but real quickly I have to tell everyone how victory is mine.

The last time I went to Marshall’s I made the mistake of looking at something but not picking it up.  Today I was much, much smarter.  Now, while it wasn’t a purse (that was taken care of the week that I wrote the first Marshall’s post) it was clothing.  And I know for a fact that I pissed someone off today.

I need a dress for the weddings I have to attend this summer, and that was my purpose for going to Marshall’s today (no water weight and feeling pretty good about myself).  I finally found a dress that I liked, and picked it up in the size I thought I would need.  I went and tried the dress on, and Hallelujah, it fit.  So, I continued to walk around the store with it. 

I noticed that there was a woman looking at the same rack of dresses that I had been looking at, and I heard her sigh when I picked up the dress.  I did notice that she had picked up the dress, but she put it back.  To be honest her picking it up and putting it back is what drew my attention to it.  She followed me into the fitting room (not my little booth thankfully) and was kind of waiting by the discarded clothes when I came out.  Since the dress fit, I held onto it, besides the fact that I worked in retail and tend to put things back in the correct spot even if I don’t want the item. 

This woman followed me around the store. 

I eventually went up to pay for my items and the same woman wasn’t too far behind me in line.  She was with her boyfriend/husband and I could hear her saying shit about me.  When I walked out the store, I finally heard very clearly “I saw that dress first.  It would have looked better on me.”  At this point I lost my last reserve of cool and told her she should have held onto it instead of putting it back. 

I know, very grown up. 

Regardless, I went to Marshall’s and I picked up my object of desire and walked out of the store with it.  See, I learn from my mistakes.