It would seem that I’m a whore to other peoples emotions. 

Since quitting my job a year ago, I rarely wake up in bad moods anymore.  I tend to wake up nowaday’s and feel pretty positive.  Hormones tend to take me in a different direction every once in awhile, but for the most part, I feel good!

Yesterday was no different, I woke up and I felt good.  I got my husband off to work, and even he was in a pretty good mood (he is so not a morning person, whereas I am).  I made my coffee, I ate my breakfast, I watched my morning shows.  Things were good.

I went to take my shower so that I could start getting ready for my day, and I guess that’s where things started to go downhill.  The shower was good, I love showers.  I get the water as hot as I can stand it and I stand there and let it beat on my back (I have lower back issues that may be inherited or it could just be the lifestyle that I have lived).  I don’t wash my hair everyday, but I do straighten it.  If it isn’t a day to wash my hair, I use a flat iron to straighten my hair into submission, so that was plugged in and heating up.

I got my make up on, I got dressed and was going back into the bathroom to do my hair when the phone rang.  So, I check the caller ID and see that it’s a friend of mine (name being withheld because I don’t know how often or even if she Googles her friends names to see if they’re talking about her) so I choose to answer the phone.

Big mistake.

She’s in a bad mood, and says as much when I answer the phone.  I think “Oh great” but withhold comments because she just needs to vent.  I’m quiet and I guess people tend to take that to mean “sounding-board.”  Usually this doens’t bother me, but I’m already worried about the snow on the ground from the night before, and we know how I feel about snow.

So, she starts to bitch and moan and I guess I finally had enough.  I made up a reason to hang up with her, because I’m starting to feel even more agitated because she was complaining about other people’s ability to drive in the snow.  I start to complain about what I have ahead of me for the day because now I feel the need to complain a little.  As I’m hanging up with her she has the nerve to say to me “Well, aren’t you in a bad mood?”

Tell. me. she. is. kidding! 

At this point I head into the bathroom to finish the beauty torture trials ritual, only to find out that the flat iron that I just got for Christmas isn’t hot.  Hmm, weird.  The power is on, the heat is up to the right temperature and it’s been heating up for about 20-30 minutes.  Fantastic, this means that it’s dead.  So, now I have to spray down my hair so that I can blow dry it into the correct style.  Should have just washed it.*

What’s funny is, if I hadn’t answered the phone to listen to her bad mood, I would have taken the dead flat iron in stride.  It wouldn’t have been an issue.  But, because it happend after someone who puts me in a bad mood, tells me I’m in a bad mood…I turned into the Incredible Hulk.

Yeah, Hulk smash flat iron.

I’m feeling much better today though.

*It should be noted that I have red colored hair.  Any hairdresser will tell you that red is the hardest color to maintain, therefore I don’t wash it everyday.  Even wetting it down with a spray bottle tends to make the color run and fade. 

I have one again been inspired by Allison and true to form, I’m going to steal this idea.  She was inspired by another’s history of embarrasment.  Both of these lists cracked me up, so here it goes.

• When I was in Kindergarten I was basically a tomboy.  We did a Christmas show and we were required to be dressed nicely as everyone who had a kid was basically going to come and see this thing.  Well, my mom had put me in a cute (her words, not mine) dress and some tights.  For someone who never wore tights, this was itchy torture.  I had had enough of the itching so I picked up my dress, while still singing, and proceeded to itch the living daylights out of my legs.  My mom still won’t let this story go.
• I was (am) such a little bookworm, that in either second or third grade we had show and tell for after Christmas break.  We were supposed to bring in our favorite present and show it off to everyone else.  Everyone else in the class had brought in toys that they had recieved and I brought a book, The Secret Garden.  Everyone laughed at me except the teacher.
• I ran into a parked car trying to ride my mom’s 10 speed around the block.  I wanted to prove to her that I could ride a grown up bike.  I couldn’t figure out how the breaks worked and I was going too fast, so I chose to plow into a car.
• I constantly trip over my own feet.  Usually out in public.  In front of a lot of people.  This happens on a daily basis.
• I was once in a car accident where the person hit me on my passenger side.  I guess I blacked out for a minute because the next thing I remembered, there were about 4 guys standing around my car and staring at me.  When I finally managed to roll my window down, they asked me if I was ok.  I asked them why I couldn’t get this much male attention when I haven’t just been hit by a car.
• I proceeded to get out of the car “Dukes of Hazzard” style because I couldn’t get my drivers side door to open.  Turns out the locks were locked.
• My first car didn’t have a working radio, so instead of driving in silence I would roll down both windows and sing The Beatles “Yellow Submarine” as loud as I possibly could.
• I now live across the hall from someone I went to school with from Kindergarten through high school graduation.  The way I came about this discovery was by coming home late from work one night.  I had an armload (or two) full of my stuff from the day (work stuff, books, leftovers from my mom, mail, gym bag) and I managed to drop most of everything.  This resulted in my shouting an expletive and running into one of the neighbors.  He politely helped me pick up all of my crap, looks at me, and asks if my name is Sarah.  I reply that I am, he tells me my last name and I say yes while looking at him suspiciously.  He told me who he was while I silently died of embarrasement.  I had just come from the gym and was sweaty and probably stinky and had just been busted swearing, a lot.  I told him he looked good, to which he replied that he would see me later.
• Um, yeah, I snort when I laugh.  A lot, it seems to happen every time I laugh now.

Sadly, this is actually what life at the library was like.  People were always complaining about someone doing something when the person wasn’t actually doing a damn thing. 

Oh, and yes, someone actually did want a copy of the report when they thought that I should be written up.  Some people are just crazy.

 On January 28, Allison over at That’s what she Blogged, deleted Gray’s Anatomy from her DVR (see it here).  At the time, I was really inspired by what she did, but because of the writer’s strike I was reluctant to give up any of my shows.  While I haven’t been able to bring myself to remove Gray’s Anatomy from my DVR, last night was the last straw for me with Nip/Tuck. 

I’ve been saying that I’m going to stop watching this damned show for two seasons now.  It has had everything from really gory looking plastic surgeries (it is called Nip/Tuck afterall), to rape/sodomy, infedility, partner swapping (kind of) and now incest.  Yeah, this show has hit a new low.  When I watching this show last night, all I could think was “I can’t watch this anymore.”  Even though the episode ended in a kind of cliffhanger, I don’t want to watch it anymore.  Incest!  And then when the incest happend the two involved didn’t even want to stop.  They knew what they were doing, and they didn’t want to stop?!

Ew. 

Therefore, I finally removed it from my DVR.  And I actually feel pretty good about it.  I don’t feel any regrets, and I don’t feel like I’m going to slide back.   This is a really good thing and I have Allison to thank for it.  Now, if I could just get rid of the rest of the shows that I’m not crazy about anymore.

Actually, that title is incorrect.  I’m not allowed to watch horror movies alone.  My husband has actually made this rule.  I think he’s tired of the side effects.

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely love horror movies.  I rarely find anything more exhilarating than being afraid.  We usually go to movie theaters to see horror movies because I love to be around people who get so afraid that they scream.  For the record, it turns out that I won’t make a noise but I will punch, mostly my husbands leg/arm/upper torso.

The movie The Ring scared me.  I will admit it.  There was just something a little too realistic about it for me.  We saw this movie in the theater, this is when I discovered that I punch like Mike Tyson.  My poor husband had bruises for weeks.  When this movie came out on DVD, of course I had to own it.  My husband and I watched it again, to the same effect, yep I still punch.

One night, it was Halloween I think, my husband had to work at night and wouldn’t be home until after 10:00pm.  We live/lived in an apartment, so we don’t get trick or treater’s.  This means that I could have myself a nice little horror movie festival, and not have to worry about being interrupted and having the fear circle broken.  I started with the basics like Halloween (of course), Poltergeist and Carrie.  The last movie I decided to watch was The Ring. 

Well, after watching the movie and not feeling the regular thrill of fear that I used to get from watching the movie, I decided to watch the special features.  Well, the special features weren’t special enough so I went online to see if the movie had any Easter Eggs (for anyone who doesn’t know what an Easter Egg is, it’s special features that are hidden somewhere on the disk.  You usually have to do a series of button pushing to get them.); and it did have an Easter Egg. 

The hidden scene was the entire video that the people watch in the movie, in whole.  I thought, “hey cool!”, and proceeded to watch it. 

Turns out that the video was freaky as hell!  I tried to turn it off, but it wouldn’t stop!  I had no choice but to let the damned thing play through.  Did I think to leave the room?  No.  I continued to sit there watching it like a sucker. 

The whole thing is about 2 minutes long and at the end of it goes back to the main menu, once it goes back you hear a ringing phone on the DVD.  I laughed when that happened, but then my phone started to ring.  That just freaked me the hell out.  At the time we had caller ID but the display was separate from the phone, and I had forgotten to change the batteries on it.  But as the movie proved, it doesn’t care if you don’t answer the phone, the creepy voice will leave a message delivering the amount of days until your death.

Luckily it wasn’t creepy voice, it was just my husband telling me he was on his way home and asking if I needed anything.  I do recall almost crying with relief.  When he got home I felt like I had to share the story with him.  He laughed at me, called me some inappropriate name, kissed me and told me I had 7 days.

So I punched him, in the torso, Mike Tyson style without the ear biting.  At that point he informed me that I wasn’t allowed to watch horror movies alone at night anymore.

My question is, if he isn’t here, how can he stop me? 

Shopping for me is like a mental marathon.  I go to the store, let’s say Target, for a few simple things that I know I will find there for less money than I would at a grocery store.  Plus there is a Starbucks there, so it’s like a 2 for 1 deal for me.  Please, join me on my walk through Crazyville.

Writer’s note:  This conversation is wholly one sided.  There is no one with me.  I am talking to myself, sometimes out loud but usually in my own head.

I walk into the store and immediately decide I’m just going to walk around and kill time.  I like to browse.  Browsing is where the trouble starts.  I make it to the jewelry and handbag section and I might as well hand over my credit cards.  The longing starts.  I’m shamelessly addicted to jewelry and handbags.  Funny considering I’m a tomboy at heart, with a psuedo Goth girl exterior.

Ah, there it is, the object of my new affection (insert object here).  Of course it isn’t on sale.  Why would the object that I now want and feel like I can’t live without be on sale?  That would be craziness.  How would Target get me to keep coming back?

Despite the fact that it isn’t on sale, I pick it up and put it in my shopping cart.

Ok, now I feel guilty.  I should put it away.  

But, it’s so pretty.  (I realize I’ve officially lost any males who read this blog, I am sorry for this.  I’ll try to do better next time.)

Ok, putting it in the shopping cart does not mean I have to buy it.  I’ll walk around, get the things I need and keep track of the amount I’m spending.  If it gets too high, then I’ll put (insert object here) back.

Yeah right, who am I kidding?

No, I’ll put it back and wait until it goes on sale.  If it never goes on sale than it has to go on clearance at some point, right?  I’ll just keep waiting.  (Notice this line of reasoning gives me a reason to constantly go back to the store.  This is ok because it’s right down the street from where my husband works.  It’s not a waste of gas if you’re in that area anyway.)

What if it goes on clearance, but it’s sold out?  (This is not a hint, it’s a challenge.)

At this point I am more than halfway through the store, I’m at the pharmacy section and just about done.  You would think that the guilt would either subside or just end.  It doesn’t though.  I’m still obsessing over whether to keep it or put it away.  I want the item, but I know the guilt I would feel if I did buy it.  The guilt I feel over buying it though is nothing compared to the days/weeks/months of OCD that will result in my eventually obtaining said object.  If I do manage to walk out of the store without the object I know I will immediatly go home and start searching for it on the internet, at what I hope will be a much cheaper price.  It usually doesn’t work out that way; once you figure in shipping and tax, it’s cheaper to buy it at the damned store.

Scenario #1:  I buy the object.  I am happy.  My husband is happy because I am not asking him “should I have bought it?” a hundred times a day.

Scenario #2:  I don’t buy the object.  I spend more time than is necessary looking for the object somewhere else.  I go back to the original store I found it at, and it’s no longer there.  Curses!  Sold out!  Must go to another store.  Great, it’s sold out at all of the stores.  Now I have to go back to searching online.  I know, I have family in other states.  I’ll call them and have them look for me.  Someone has to have it.  (Like I said, Sold Out is not a sign, it’s a challenge.)

Moral of the story:  9 out of 10 times I end up with the object.  Sometimes I pay full price, other times I get lucky and catch it when it goes on clearance. 

The real moral of the story:  It’s exhausting being me.

 I have a cat.  A psychotic cat.  A cat who will not let me go into the bathroom by myself.  I think she’s afraid that I’m going to somehow hurt myself.  Which actually brings up a funny story. 

One day I went into the bathroom with a cat underfoot, and I asked her (yes, I talk to my animals) if I needed supervision.  She looked at me as if to say “of course you do.”  I proceeded to to step into the garbage can.  I said ow, my husband laughed hysterically. 

Anyway, when I do close the door all I hear at the door are furious, furry beatings on the door.  Since my husband works during the day, I can usually do everything that I do in the morning with the door open.  This appeases the cat, and doesn’t freak me out when I hear the noises at the door.

So, one day I’m in the shower minding my own business.  The cat had been in the bathroom with me when I got into the shower, therefore I expected her to be there when I got out. 

Yeah, she was still in the bathroom with me.  Hell, she was in the shower with me.  And she appeared to have no problems with getting wet.  I on the other hand, did have a problem with a cat sitting in the shower with me and staring at me.  Maybe I need to learn to shower with a swim suit on? 

Whoever says that cats don’t like water, is a liar and must meet my cat.                                 

Last night my husband and I went to my mom’s to watch the Superbowl (we’re football people).  We left around 9:30 or so, and discovered that it had snowed…again.  And a lot. 

I don’t mean to beat a dead horse with these entries, but really.  I drive a 2001 Dodge Neon with four not so great tires.  And considering nothing had been plowed last night while we were driving home, I get the feeling that today is going to be a doozy (yes, I said doozy…I just hope I’m spelling it right). 

If I didn’t have to drive in the stuff, I would totally love the snow.  It is pretty when it first falls, and I don’t mind the cold.  But c’mon, a Dodge Neon. 

Woke up to about 3 or 4 inches of snow, my car got stuck in said snow four times.  I decided that snow plow drivers in Chicago are a little bit evil.

But, when I finally made it to my hair appointment to get my hair colored and cut I realized that my salon was having a sale.  So, I got 20% off of my hair services for today and all of my hair products and the nail polish I wanted were all on sale. 

I love it when my day balances itself out.