Tuesday, August 31, 2010

And Yet, It Feels Strangely Anti-Climactic...

I finally did it, guys.

And in case anyone's wondering: I can tell you how I know each and every one of those people.

Unless it's somebody who got married without my knowledge. Then I have to sit and figure it out first.

But still.

I guess six years on facebook have not been for naught.

That sentence sounded strangely like a double negative.

I don't even know what I'm saying.

I'm going to bed.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Better Late Than Never, Right?

So, a while ago I blogged about my favorite band and then remembered I had an extra copy of their CD and decided to give it away and then didn't ever go back and do that that and all of 5 people entered but now I've chosen a winner because I hate having unfinished business, so:

Which is...

Congrats, lady. Email me your address and I'll get it sent out as soon as I can find where I put it.

The rest of you? You should still check them out. You can get their album on Amazon - you can even get the extended version with the bonus tracks, which I would recommend.

(I'll also try to find more interesting things to give away. The likelihood of this increases as I clean my apartment.)

And, um, I'll send out my other giveaway prizes too. Sorry guys. I am SLOW.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

I Totally Got Laughed At By Brandi Carlile For Being Awkward

I've been really cutting back on my concert spending of late. I used to go to rock shows like it was my job, except it totally wasn't, because I was obviously losing money instead of making it, but that was in the good ol' days of being a college student where financial responsibility was kind of this on-the-horizon issue and credit cards were awesome. I haven't been going to as many shows since becoming a Grownup, because it's expensive and I don't have the patience to be pushed around by sweaty dudes who think moshing is cool. I will always, always make an exception when Halestorm is in town, but for the most part? I've been rather musically deprived.

It just so happened that my friend Danielle came into a set of tickets for a Brandi Carlile show for the reasonable price of zero dollars, and since her sister was unable to go, I totally scored the second one.

So we trek to the city auditorium (apparently there is an auditorium in our city hall? who knew?) and sit through one of the most amazing concerts I've been to in quite some time. And I've been to quite a few in my day.

I love Brandi Carlile when I listen to her, but I'm not super familiar with all her music; I have one of her CDs that I always forget I have, and a single track from her first CD that I've worn out listening to (if, you know, you could wear out MP3s), so it was kind of fun to just sit and absorb the music and not be trying to guess which song she was going to play or will she play this song or this song, there was only one song I wanted her to play but it's super old (I don't even have the faintest idea when or how I ended up with this song or where or when I first heard it) so I wasn't surprised she didn't, anyway, she was amazing. She has such a unique voice and hits equal parts chill folksy-indie-ish music with a perfect blend of rock thrown in. I loved it. My favorite part was actually probably the part when they came to the front of the stage and played a song completely, totally unplugged. Music at its most raw, most pure. It was - dammit, I can't seem to find another word than amazing. I'm (obviously) listening to her CD right now and I swear it doesn't even do her justice. It's a gorgeous CD, but. It's lacking the energy and edge that the live performance had.

On the bright side, the new set of songs that I decided tonight were my new favorites, all happened to be on the CD that I happened to have, so: bonus!

Shitty Blackberry photo because I forgot my camera

In the encore set, she went on this spiel about how ridiculous, hilarious, and awesome old-school country western is (it's creepy how much she can sound like Tammy Wynette), and played a song she wrote to make fun of all country music cliches, which was totally awesome, of course, then they launched into a killer Johnny Cash cover. Danielle is a hard-core Cash fan, I thought she was going to keel over and die with joy.

But it was at the very, very end, when they closed the show with a cover of "Let it Be" that it turned into this transformative experience. I swear, she healed my soul with that song. Everything that's been bothering me and everything that's been threatening to take me under, just melted. It was exactly what I needed, right then.

Anyway. We stuck around to get autographs, because why not, and usually we try to get pictures because we are complete dorks like that, but I guess they were in a hurry to get back on the road to head to their next stop, so that was a no-go. So we're waiting in line and it's our turn and between the two of us we're totally mastering the awkward handshake (do we hand her our item to be signed? extend a hand? ahhh!!!) and Brandi and her twin guitarists totally just crack up and we're all BFF's now because we've bonded over how ridiculously awkward we are, (we being me and Danielle, which is probably why we're friends), and then we talked about awkward hugs, and then we left, laughing at ourselves, because we so totally shouldn't be out in public, especially in the vicinity of famous people.

So, I got made fun of by a brilliant singer-songwriter, but I like to think that that totally makes me a kick-ass person.


I've totally got some free chips coming to me if I make it to Fargo before February.

Friday, August 27, 2010

I Believe The Word You Are Looking For is "AWESOME"

What you are about to aurally experience is, in fact, the sounds of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" as played on our university campanile (clock tower). Like, the whole thing. In chime form. I LOVE MY ALMA MATER. I mean, even more than I did before.


Thursday, August 26, 2010

I Can't Think Of Anything Better To Say Than "Hmm"

I wake up Tuesday with a general feeling of physical crumminess, I have a sore throat which I'm hoping is just because of dry air, and just "blah" enough that it doesn't justify calling in sick, even though my body wants to stay fused to my bed, and I check my phone, like I always do when I wake up, and there's a 2am text message from Bachelor #3 going, "so what's the deal? do you not want to hang out?" and I really could do very little else than inwardly groan and pull the covers over my head. (I'm not even going to try to touch the issue of why he randomly decided to be concerned about this at that hour in the overlap between Monday and Tuesday.)

I feel like I'm falling into this bad pattern where I'm not taking care of myself. I've been eating like shit, I haven't been exercising, I apparently haven't been sleeping well, more times than not I've stumbled out the door in the morning as a half-awake hot mess (which, fortunately, I can usually pull my shit together by the time I pull into the parking lot at work). I also think I'm coming down with something (I've had a sore-ish throat since Monday that's getting worse rather than better - I really, really hope it's not strep.) I've overloaded myself with obligations (ok, not even that many, but my motivation's not what it once was), I feel like I'm neglecting my friends, which I've really tried to start making a better effort NOT to do, I'm neglecting my hobbies (I used to photograph things and make artsy things and I don't even know what happened to any of that)... and somewhere when I seemed to have it together sometime almost two months ago, I totally thought it was time to look for some sort of significant other to throw into the mix.

I feel like I'm failing myself somehow. I can't seem to do it all anymore and I have a bunch of issues that seem to be resurfacing that I clearly need to fix. My commitment issues are present and accounted for in full force. Let's just take Bachelor #3 for an example. I can't even seem to get myself to commit to a second date. Whether this has to do with him and my reservations about him, or me and my reservations about getting tangled up with someone, I honestly can't tell. And I've been getting emails and messages from these seemingly really nice dudes and I obviously can't keep this up with all of them, unless I refuse to commit to any of them, which, let's face it, is kind of the road I'm on. I truly, honestly have no idea why I'm so skittish about the whole thing. I mean, okay. My parents are divorced, big deal, I've seen my mother burn through a series of Bad Relationships and I can't pretend that some of her choices haven't been mildly traumatizing for me. but. I've seen more good relationships than bad, and it's not like I don't see these and admire them and see how they work and know that it can work. I'm not afraid of getting into a relationship and getting hurt - I mean, I don't relish the thought, but it's part of life, it happens. So, why, then? I know I've admitted a reluctance to give up my independence... however, if I end up in a relationship that is truly a good fit for me, I shouldn't have to, entirely. I don't have the codependent personality of my mother and my sister (I hope). I can still function as ME and as part of an US. I think.

And maybe that's what's annoying Bachelor #3. I'm not clingy and codependent and I'm really quite indifferent to whether I spent my Friday night with him or on my couch reading a book. I'm equally happy with people or by myself.

I don't know, maybe that's a sign that he's not it. Maybe if I was really into him, I'd want to give up my solo weekends and make an effort to spend time with him.


I think somehow I turned this into two separate things.

The first thing: I'm feeling a little bit lost in my own life, and I feel like I'm not giving myself the attention that I deserve. I've turned into a zombie of sorts. Get up, go to work, come home, sleep, lather rinse repeat, with a few other things thrown in. I'm not unhappy, but I'm not happy, either. I'm just in this general state of ambivalence and uncertainty. It occurs to me that maybe, maybe it's time I go find a professional to help me out, I've avoided this for so long, I had a less-than-helpful experience when I tried therapy in college, when it was free, and I've never been able to justify spending the money on it now. I've usually been able to fix myself. But maybe it's time for an outside perspective. But there's not a lot of people that I am super comfortable talking to, and more importantly, I'd have to find someone that I was okay with, that was covered by my insurance, and I don't really know how any of that works. If anyone can toss me some advice or something, I'd really appreciate it. And if you don't want to leave it in the comments, since it's kind of a totally personal thing, feel free to shoot me an email.

The second thing: I feel like I'm kind of getting in over my head on this whole dating thing. Because I don't really know what I'm looking for or what I want, and the only indication I know of to watch for is that feeling of butterflies, but... gah. I'm pretty sure I have created adverse effects on my own life by ignoring this aspect of it for so long, and I feel like I've gotten pretty stupid about it. I mean, okay. I know when I like someone. I know when I don't. I know when I'm attracted to someone. I know when I'm not.

But I'm to the age now where I could start to envision myself making a serious commitment and not freaking out about it. How do you know when you're with the right person? How do you know when to shrug it off and move on, in the absence of any red flags or a need to run like hell in the opposite direction? I guess you're just supposed to know?

For those of you that are paired off - how did YOU know?

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

It's Raining Men... Hallelujah?

I know you're all dying to know the results of my revisit to The World of Internet Dating (actually I'm pretty sure that's the only reason people even still read this blog anymore), so here you go.

Behold, a new set of eligible men.

Bachelor #4 - Winked at me, initiated email communication. He's a teacher, he's a year or so younger than me (I find it hard to accurately do the math since my birthday is next month and I obviously can't tell when theirs are), he's cute, I dunno. He seems like someone that I would actually date. I gave him one of my gmail addresses so I didn't have to log in a bajillion times a day, we emailed a bit, I sent him a rambly one the other day after a long-ass day and apparently he didn't get scared by it, so that's a plus. Thus now in possession of his full name, I looked him up on facebook. We have a few mutual friends, which was actually kind of reassuring. Like, he's a real person. He's a real person that people I know, know. It makes it somewhat less random, I guess.

Bachelor #5 - A guy that winked at me that I probably ignored until he sent me a message. He's an international grad student and seems pretty cool, but I think he's definitely looking for something serious, and as previously established, I am not sure I am, and in the interest of not wasting anyone's time, I indicated as much. I haven't gotten any messages back from him since then.

The one thing that bothered me initially was that he tried tell me I was using commas or something Englishy wrong because he totes taught it in his country for years blah blah. It's the fucking Internet and I fucking rain commas like dollar bills at strip clubs. I don't caaaare. I can standardized test the shit out of English and get perfect scores, and it's because I know how to use it, that I occasionally choose to abuse it. It kind of rubbed me the wrong way but in retrospect I don't think he was trying to be condescending or anything, he was just trying to genuinely point out what he perceived to be as an error. Even though I frequently will fall into Internet-speak to make things more conversational, but I can totally see how that would not register if it's not your native language and/or you weren't subjected to LOLCats for years. So, there's that whole language issue thing. Sigh.

Also, he found me on facebook. Which kind of unsettled me a lot at first since he didn't even have my full name at the time - but I guess if one were smart, and put together the clues, it wouldn't be terribly difficult. I live my life on the Internet with only a thin veil of transparency; there's an inevitable paper trail somewhere. Keeps me honest, I guess. Plus I think both of my profile pictures currently match which probably helped. I kind of poked through his profile - I don't think he's a creeper, just resourceful. It was kind of a wakeup call though - sometimes I forget how connected things are and how much information is out there. Eek.

Bachelor #6 - some dude who also winked at me that I ignored until he messaged me. I guess if they're willing to make an effort and I can't find any major turn-offs, I'll humor them. Except I'm not particularly interested because he seems a bit... pushy? Two messages in, and he's all, here's my phone number (to be fair, a lot of guys keep giving me their number, ha!), what are you doing tonight? and I was all, I had to work late, sorry. I was being polite. The very next day - what are you doing tonight? Ugh. Back off.

Besides, he's not really my type. I don't really like blond dudes. I don't know why. Give me tall, dark, and handsome, I guess. Though not too tall. I'm pretty short.

Bachelor #7 - Intriguing guy with a well-written profile. He's into music and photography and while neither of these seems like a particularly stable career choice, I've always had a weak spot for musicians. (To date, I've hooked up with two. Maybe three. I'm not sure if we count a couple random kisses in a bar as a hookup.) I think he summed it up in his message when he said he thought we'd have fun getting to know each other. I suspect he's correct. Like I said, I'm intrigued.

There are a couple other guys (Bachelors #8-10, I guess?) that have messaged me as well but I don't have much to report so this will have to come in another installment.

I'd almost feel kind of slutty if I were in fact doing anything with any of these guys.

In other news, I still owe Bachelor #1 a coffee date because I was supposed to meet him last Sunday but I had to lay down and try to ward off a headache and then I woke up to Dr. I'm-Not-Interested's rejection sooo that didn't happen because then I literally felt worse than before, both emotionally and physically (oh, the nausea of rejection - if only you had been substantial enough to help me launch a Breakup Diet. I guess it would have had to have been something somewhat more of an actual Thing for that to be effective. Ah, well.) and I didn't figure that being a wounded semi-hysterical hot mess would have been terribly attractive. I wasn't even sure leaving my apartment was going to be feasible as I was kind of stuck in the fetal position but then I showered and went to my neighbor-friend's house and we made boozy ice cream drinks and it was much better.

I'm also still trying to figure out what to do about Bachelor #3. I think I shall perhaps go out with him again. If his attitude about people in general still continues to suck to the point of annoyance... I might have to rethink this whole thing. He's been texting me and I think he is irritated that I've been kind of blowing him off. Which hasn't been entirely intentional, but... not unintentional either. I dunno. He was trying to get me to come over last night which I opted not to, but we might get together tonight? I don't know. We'll see.

And as for that, um, thing from Saturday? We'll just pretend it never happened....

That's really all I've got for now, I need to log back on and investigate the winks and messages I've acquired. It's really quite tiring.

The things I do for you people.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Only Men I Will Truly Love Are Probably Ben And Jerry.

So. This whole online dating thing. It seems to have gone from a fun experiment to meet dudes to the beginnings of a full-fledged existential crisis.

After the disaster that was Bachelor #2, my mind has reacted in a couple different ways. The first was sort of an indignant rage and the desire to burn through as many guys as I could. For what purpose other than to validate myself as a worthwhile, desirable person, I'm not sure. Maybe it was an exciting prospect, to jump so far out of my past character and to live the life I'd not experienced. Or maybe it was like that one plot line in Grey's Anatomy in, like, Season 2 (which is as far as I ever made it through that show) where she tries to deal with her breakup with McDreamy with a revolving door of endless random guys. Or something.

But, my unbiological sister-figure Maria kind of shook her head at me (at least I assumed she did, I can't actually see her from here), and told me that it wasn't me. It was a self-protection mechanism, a punishment for those nameless guys for something that some other guy did.

She's not wrong.

It's not me. It's a reaction to being hurt and rejected. It's reinforcing that wall around everything that makes me vulnerable. It's being numb and indifferent. And while it would be fun, it wouldn't be productive.

Still, I'm determined to get my money's worth, because I failed to make the effort to jump through the approximately eight hundred hoops required to cancel a paid subscription. So I've got another month.

So, despite the fact that I got burned, I went back to peruse my options. Instead of wading through the fucks that kept trying to get me to pay attention to them, I just ran a new search and started sending winks at the dudes I thought were hot or at least marginally acceptable + interesting. I was much less discriminating and infinitely more shallow. Quantity not quality!

Just kidding, I can't bring myself to overlook quality. Gah. Nightmares.

So I take the reins and toss out a few winks and change my profile picture to something else and somewhere in all this, the world of love-starved central Iowa men perked up and were like "HAWT!" and I seriously got a string of messages. Not just winks, but actual messages. Dudes took the time to write to me.

Two of them were guys that had winked at me a while ago that I kind of ignored for whatever reason, but I figured, what the hey. They're actually trying now. So I've got like 3 or 4 conversations going and good lord, y'all, juggling men is exhausting. (I'm gonna be screwed if any of these dudes ever pull a "so, where is this going...?" conversation, but I think that's pretty exclusively reserved for girls, so I should be okay, right?)

Still, the net result has been largely unimpressive, because, hi, we're still in the middle of nowhere, after all. Anyone truly worth having is already taken. So many of these guys are so stereotypically Iowan, it's really not even funny. Seriously, there was even a dude with "bubba" in his username that winked at me. NO. I get that we're in Iowa but I also get that the majority of people I know? Don't fit that hayseed mold. The last shreds of civilization that hang out in the metro area are the only reason I haven't lost my mind yet. I can sometimes pretend like I'm in a real city, or a respectable place. Because otherwise, I feel like I've failed myself, in a way. I was supposed to get out of here. I promised myself I'd get out.

And I did, sort of. I moved two hours from home and landed somewhere else, but I don't think this quite counts as "out." But you know what? I love it here, so it's okay. I just don't love the fact that there's not much for you, if you're single and in your mid-twenties or beyond.

Beyond that? It's a lot of 40 year old divorcees, men who have kids, want kids, expect kids; men who post pictures of their cars instead of their faces, men who can't string sentences together, men who make me cringe. I may be on the Internet but I am still out of your league.

I've also been flaking out hardcore on Bachelors #1 and #3. Not even intentionally - I've been busy at work, I've been exhausted, I've been PMSy and moody. I've just wanted my downtime to be Me-time.

Which kind of brings me to my second reaction.

I have no clue what I want.

Despite the length of time that it has spanned, I'm not 100% sure I'm ready to give up being single. I like my life, I like how uncommitted I am. I struggle with the idea of intimacy and relationships, because being open and vulnerable terrifies the hell out of me.

The fact that I'm not real keen on making an effort with either of these two guys that are making an effort with me, makes me think that not only am I not interested in either of them, but makes me wonder if I've got bigger issues.

I love the idea of falling in love. I'm just really hesitant to set in motion any series of events that would actually allow this to happen.

And before I went on my flirting blitzkrieg, I was kind of over the whole thing. The online thing, I mean. I hadn't really given it a fair chance... and I guess I'd kind of still hoped to meet someone the old-fashioned way. Maybe a chance encounter, or hell, even in a bar. A friend of a friend whose path I hadn't crossed before. A miserable blind date instigated by well-meaning friends, rather than instigated by a deceptive online profile. Whatever. But this somehow seems unlikely. Iowa is a big, fucking black hole that most people have the sense to leave. It's next to impossible to meet people here. By not meeting anyone in college and by subsequently sticking around, I pretty much sentenced myself to a life of solitude.

Which is why I turned to the Internet. The Internet had to hold the answer. It always does!

But I'm not super patient and I got to my usual "this is frustrating, let's quit" stage, however illogical that was after, oh, three weeks.

And I'm trying not to be bitter or even talk about/think about it - or even care for that matter - but that whole thing with Bachelor #2 just left kind of a bad taste for the whole thing. (Because he really didn't need to be such a dick about it and maybe there's something more than what he was telling me, but whatever, fuck him. I don't need to be treated like that and I sure as hell don't deserve it. So, good riddance, I guess, and thanks for damaging my ego that I've only spent years and years trying to build up). As I was saying. Despite the fact that I may or may not have actually given the finger to a Match commercial that came on TV the other day, I've decided to give it another try.

But I'm a bit wary. I'm a sucker for words, and on the Internet, all you really have are words. I was so enamored with Bachelor #2 because he was well-spoken and funny and easy to talk to. The other guys? Not nearly so. But, Bachelor #2 turned out to be an asshole so I guess that doesn't mean much. It just means that I have no idea what to base my criteria on because I don't know if I can trust my instincts right now.

It would just be so much easier to get another cat and be done with it.

Monday, August 23, 2010


In a strange turn of events, I have come to find that I've started to hate my arms less and my legs more. I am reluctant to admit anything that presents me as anything less than having a radiant glow of sheer goddess-like appearance, but OH MY GOD, cellulite. How do I fix this? I'm not even 26 yet! (less than a month!) I just discovered an appreciation for skirts! It's hot out! Tragedy! Why must my body repulse me? Drama, woe, etc.

Seriously, though. Ew.

* * *

Turns out I'm totally the type of person who will buy extra crap to reach $25 to get free shipping on Amazon.

Related: did you know there are sometimes used books that are fulfilled by Amazon and thus eligible for Super Saver Shipping? Totally. Addicted.

* * *

It bothers me that I cannot readily identify my hair color. I'm used to it being blonde, so that is how I perceive it, but I guess it turns out it's actually sort of red, so - I don't know?

* * *

I just got a renewal noticed for my domain for my other blog. Which I've totally been ignoring. (I think I peaked at the Thriller dance.)

But - that means I am almost officially one year into that project, and while I've knocked a lot off that list, I've kind of lost steam. I don't know if I need to revise it or simply revisit and re-strategize.

I think this will maybe be the year I get that tattoo. Definitely the year I do karaoke. There are a couple smaller, easier things on there I could do. I've only got four years to knock off the remaining 20 items... and some of them require some $$ to accomplish.

Then: a big party or a new list. Maybe both, I haven't decided.

I have decided I'm ending my twenties in Vegas. So that'll be the last item to cross off.

September 2014, mark your calendars.

* * *

There are currently 15 books (no, I counted) surrounding my bed in my "things I'm actively reading" area. Not counting the unread ones on my bookshelf. I've either got ADD, commitment issues, or something else going on. Clearly none of them have been able to sustain my interest well enough to race through them without stopping to do anything else or read anything else. Harumph.

* * *

I practiced sparring with a couple of gals from TKD last night and nearly got my ass kicked. I'm so rusty. I kind of hate myself for not being able to go as often as I used to. I could be good. I'm half-black belt. I shouldn't be struggling this much. Gotta get back into it, with gusto. I should be able to test for my full black belt soon. Eek!

Sunday, August 22, 2010


Disclaimer: Do not judge me.

Confession: I may or may not have spent Saturday night on my ex-boyfriend's couch.

Other disclaimer: Nothing happened.

Even so, I apparently don't make the best decisions when I'm drunk and lonely.


My friend Steph came up and we had some quality girl time on Saturday evening, and between the two of us we took care of a couple bottles of wine. I admittedly had the larger portion, as she had to drive back home afterwards, and as little as I drink anymore, I was definitely Not Sober by the time she left.

Shortly before said departure, I started getting some text messages. One was from Bachelor #3 who wanted to see what I was up to because apparently he'd decided to stay in town this weekend after all and was disappointed that he didn't get to see me on Friday (aww) because I was exhausted and came home from work and fell asleep (yes, I'm cool like that.)


Random text from The Ex. I capitalize this because while he is obviously not my only ex, he is the one that kind of damaged me a bit. Once again, Steph accused me of not being over it, and while I feel like I totally, totally am, for some reason or another I ended up answering my phone when he called about ten minutes after she left. (ok, that reason = wine.)

He's still on this mission to apologize and make things right and blah blah and could we get together sometime, maybe have coffee, maybe have dinner, and somehow that devolved into him coming to pick me up to go to the bars cause I was in no state to drive. Fun fact: he apparently only lives mere blocks from me. Fucking weird.

Anyway so we go park somewhere near the college bars and we're just talking and giving each other shit because, you know, we go way back and I guess we can be friends and I'm an idiot or at least I decided to ignore the obvious fact that he's clearly still way into me, years and years (five, to be exact) later. Then he pulls me aside and kisses me and my defenses are all sort of shot to hell and it felt like those five years in between never happened and he was exactly the same, except, nicer. With his shit pulled together. I pulled away and reminded him that I hated him (it was pretty convincing, obviously) and we went to the bar and I acquired yet another boozy drink and I was trying to be mean and aloof but we got a lot of shit out in the open and it felt almost normal and well-adjusted and in the back of my mind, my brain was like, what the fuck are you doing? You're going to have a hell of a time getting him to leave you alone now.

Last call came and went so as the ubiquitous Semisonic song goes, you don't have to go home but you can't stay here, so we ended up back at his apartment to hang out and okay maybe we made out a little bit but mostly just kind of cuddled and fell asleep and I hate to admit how comfortable it was and how so fucking goddamn sincere he was and he held me like I was the most important thing in the entire world and I hate that out of all my ex-boyfriends and ex-flings and ex-almosts and the whole parade of maybes, he is the one that I have to have that stupid connection with and that whole stupid history with.

So, this complicates things, I guess, even though when he dropped me off (no walk of shame, yay) (early, because I am wont to bolt as soon as possible in this and similar hookup-y type situations) and I was all, "well, it's been... interesting" and he was all "Call me?" and I was like "whatever" and then left. I have no interest in starting things over or attempting a redo and this was all around a bad idea, sans the part where I got some snuggling out of the deal, so let's not read too much into it, because I have more dudes lined up to tell you about (yes, I returned to Match even after the disaster that was Bachelor #2), and this dynamic that we have is probably fucked up and unhealthy and it still leaves me feeling mildly unsettled if I think too much into it, except right now I am looking back at the events of last night and I quite literally feel nothing.

Also my karmic punishment was an awesome hangover this morning that lasted until probably around the time I was able to fall asleep (11? noon?) and reminded me why I don't drink often. I almost vowed to not drink anymore but then I remembered that football season is coming up and I do so love me some tailgating.

Friday, August 20, 2010


I haven't written anything in what seems like a small eternity. (In reality, it was probably more like, "since Tuesday.") Don't let the continuation of posts fool you - most of them were prescheduled.

I've had so much bouncing around in my head, and I've been busy at work, and, basically, my brain has been wearing me out. I sat down with a notebook last night ("sat" might not be the right word... flopped down on my bed with my face half mashed into a pillow after an exhaustive search under some dirty-or-possibly-clean laundry to find the new unopened pack of pens I bought at Wal-Mart last week... but "sat" is easier to say) and scribbled out a few pages. I scribbled until my hand hurt and my eyelids got heavy and I tossed everything off my bed and curled up and fell asleep at probably the earliest I've done all week, although I don't know what time that was since I wasn't looking. Maybe it was 11:30. I don't know.

The whole point of this post is that there really isn't a point at all (ha! gotcha) but really I am trying to find some time, if even a moment, to just stop, regroup, and breathe. I've had a lot going on lately and it's threatening to steal the last bit of sanity that I've been gripping on to.

So, it's Friday. I can't promise that my weekend will be relaxing and I can't even remember who all I promised to spend time with (dear friends: it's possible I may have double/triple/quadruple booked myself, so if I bail on you, I'M SORRY) so I don't think there will be a lot of down time, which is tragic in its own way, but it's a good problem to have. I guess.

I... I don't know where this was going. Happy weekend, bloglings.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Love is Love is Love.

Given that I'm usually about a week behind if and when I ever decide to talk about current events, you'll understand that I'm totally prescheduling it and then proceeding to ignore said current events, so if something changes, then, well, whatever.

My POINT is that California finally appears to have removed its head from its ass and overturned Proposition 8, which bans same-sex marriage.

Which, by the way, was legalized in Iowa last year. Iowa. Of all places.

Get with the program, California.

If you know me at all, you know that I'm a huge supporter of gay marriage. I am willing to see both sides of most issues, but this is one I absolutely will not budge on. At all.

I'm not going to really get into it because this is actually the third post I've written tonight and I'm going to have to preschedule it behind the rest (well, 2 posts and 2 months worth of recap on the Index page... basically, I've been sitting at this computer writing for a solid three and a half hours now. After sitting at a computer all day. I don't know what's wrong with me, either.)

This is all a REALLY LONG introduction to the fact that I really just wanted to re-link to my 2009 post about the legalization of gay marriage in Iowa. Basically I read the ruling, and sat and deconstructed it for you, in my usual excitable and profanity-filled way. It's one of my favorite posts. My ranty ones usually are.

You're entitled to your opinions, of course. I'm BFF's with the First Amendment. But I'm not okay with any sort of intolerance, hate, or general homophobia, so if that's all you have to offer, kindly take your thoughts elsewhere.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010


I did it, guys. I made a commitment.

I signed up for the Sketchbook Project, even though I feel like my creativity is drying up. It is perhaps because my creativity is drying up that I pushed myself to do it. I want, no, need to start creating again, even if it's just scribbles in a book.

It sucks that it costs money, but it'll be good for me. And it will be on display somewhere that I will never be able to go visit it, so, you know. I'll make scans of it first before setting it free, or something.

Was this probably the wisest thing to spend money on right now? Not at all. But the fact that I paid money for it means I am more likely to do it. (Which, you know, is in theory like buying a gym membership, but I've never been so delusional to think that I'd actually use it, thus I've never purchased one.)

Y'all should do it too, if you want.

The Sketchbook Project: 2011

That's all for today. Peace out.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Wine Means Everything Will Be All Right

I would like to preface this post, dear friends, with the warning that I have previously this evening consumed an entire bottle of $4 wine, by myself, and it's all Calee's fault. I'm also trying to write an email to one of my fave peeps and you know what's happening? A lot of rambling is happening.

Let me rewind.

So, as you'll recall, the weekend included the following things:
1. Getting a speeding ticket.
2. Getting rejected by the boy I actually really liked.

So, naturally, you can bet your ass I was pretty psyched for Monday to roll around because it was a NEW WEEK!

Fucking wrong again, genius.

So I'm driving to work, this Monday morning, and there's something seriously wrong with my car. I feel like it's going to fall apart any second. Super. But, fortunately, my neighbor was right behind me and she also noticed my car was loud and not-right, and finally pulled up behind me at a stop sign and motioned to me that my tire was flat.

Like, not just flat, like it has been, where it's low on air and needs a refill.

Like totally fucking destroyed I need a spare tire and to fork over some cash for a new tire, flat.

I think I swore under my breath and pulled into a parking lot and waited forty five minutes for AAA and then some dude came and put on my spare and I went to work and tried not to cry at my desk because seriously, enough is enough.

But then I talked to our receptionist for a while, and she was like, "well, that's your third!"

And I was like, "you are so fucking right."

Except I didn't say fucking.

That's unprofessional.

But, she had a point. If bad things come in threes, it's totally fucking lollipops and unicorns from here on out.

And even though I seriously wanted to crawl into the fetal position all morning, slowly, the rational side of my brain took over and I went into problem solving mode. We can fix this.

Firstly, I love love love you guys for your comments and emails about the whole boy situation. With each comment I felt myself getting a little bit stronger and better and more "fuck this, they're right. what a tool." Because, yeah. Even though I'm still convinced that there is something wrong with me rather than choosing it to be because of a situational reason, I don't need his shit and I'll be okay.

Secondly, tires. I shopped around, got opinions, and the general consensus was that the best place in town to get cheap and decent tires was Sam's Club. Which I naturally didn't have a membership for but I went ahead and fixed that. I'm now determined to use it as much as humanly possible to make it worthwhile. (Guys, I can get a 3.5 pack of my deodorant for $9 which is like, a free deodorant and a half! And a box of 88-count tampons for $11! When a 36-count box costs me $7 at Target!). Idk. it got me access to cheap tires. Which were still more expensive than I expected because my car has to be fucking difficult. NEVER EVER buy a 1997 Pontiac Grand Am. Because: 1. The engine is located in such a place that the labor costs will kill you every time because they have to take everything apart. 2. they can't have normal 15" tires, no, they have to have fancypants sport tires with 16" rims that cost $30 more than the cheap tires. STILL. I felt like such a grownup, I bought myself 2 new tires for the front of my car and didn't even have to ask my dad for money. That is the important part. Because I owe my dad more money than I will ever be able to repay him, because I am fucking poor, but you know what? Even if I have to crunch it this week, I am totally paying for these tires ON MY OWN and I am going to be okay.

Thirdly... I think I still had bullet points going, I dunno. I have that speeding ticket still but it's not due until, ironically, my birthday, so maybe I'll get it ready and just mail it out with this next paycheck. Idk. It is what it is. If I don't get speeding tickets now and then, I don't keep myself in check, and I probably deserve it. EXCEPT I've actually been trying really hard to obey the speed limit lately. So that failed. But whatever.

Anyway. What the hell was I talking about?

After work I got new tires then went to TKD because I desperately, desperately needed to kick some things. I was almost a little saddened by how little rage I got to work out of my system, but que sera, sera. I also learned that as this weird fringe black belt (I'm half black belt, but not really, but technically, so - ?) I can test for my full black belt whenever the hell I want. So, like, I could test as soon as next week if I felt I was ready. I already know my form, I'm down with the sparring, I want to work on my boards a little more but I think I can get them... I think I'm ready. I really do. Soon.

Anyway then I went to Calee's, where she had a pint of my favorite ice cream waiting which almost made me cry because I'm hormonal this week and it was really sweet, and then she fed me a bottle of wine. And then, pasta.

Also, I was watching her work on her crafties and I got sad that I don't have a craft or a hobby or something that I could create things. She is also doing the Sketchbook Project (as is my IRL friend Maria) which, watching her do, I totally want to do now, even though I feel like my creativity is all dried up, but, I want to. Except it costs $25 and I just bought 2 new tires. Maybe next week with my next paycheck. Or I could go donate plasma.

This post, when I started thinking about writing it earlier today, totally made more sense, but that was in the absence of wine, so. you know. Sorry?

ALSO! Since I know you are dying to know. Our floodwaters have receded, we got the ok to use our tap water again yesterday, and, most importantly, Target has reopened. I dropped in to refill my Rx (and, you know, make my usual pilgrimmage) and they were all hard at work getting everything put back together, so I chatted with the cute pharmacist (who, unfortunately, appears to be married. Which is probably just as well, since I went directly after TKD looking like a hot mess, and bought a box of tampons, chapstick, and a bottle of water. Sexy.) about their flooding, sounds like they had about an 1" of water in the store but it didn't quite reach any of the product, but they had to clean the beejesus out of the floors, and it still has a faint lovely smell of, well, flood. I did notice that there seemed to be a LOT of team members on hand that day, they were completely restocking the freezer area of our sadlynonSuper Target. BUT! Glory. They were open. And that was all that really matters. Life can return to normalcy once again.

Monday, August 16, 2010

A Lot of Words About Nothing

This is the post that I wrote by hand last week and briefly alluded to here and then never bothered to type/post. So, um, here you go?

Let's talk for a bit about writing. Because I feel like this is starting to be an all-consuming force of my life again... and yet I don't feel entitled to call myself a writer.

I write this silly little blog and it's been a while since I've written what I consider to be an actual, serious post. Not that something needs to be serious to be "real" writing - on the contrary - but my brain is convinced that for ME, it needs to be or it doesn't count. Maybe because I don't consider myself funny enough to be a humor writer; I'm just a giant smartass who sometimes makes people laugh.

That said... I feel like an impostor. I was a contributing writer for a music website for a while, but I got kind of burnt out on that because I never had time and it was too close to journalism for my liking. I don't want to write about facts and things that happen to other people; I want to write about ideas. Primarily, my ideas. About anything I feel like.

Then there's all my fiction, which is generally crap. Which is mostly because I never finish it.

I'll be honest, like probably every other blogger out there, the #1 item on my life list is to be able to publish a book. To be able to stand in a bookstore (or, you know, Target) and be able to hold it in my hand, see my name on the cover, and be all, yes. I did this. To have other people read it, and like it, or at least appreciate it.

And I'd totally get my ass moving on it, because I'm the type of girl who goes after what I want, but I have no idea what I want to write about. And also, because I'm terrified of it. It's the dream I've had longest, since I can remember, and if I don't start, I can't fail. If I try, I'll inevitably fuck it up, and have to admit that, well, I couldn't do it. It seems like this hopelessly fragile thing, a dream, and I'm holding it in my hands and I could break it and all I want to do is put it back on the shelf or back in the box I pulled it out of. Maybe another time.

Right now all I really do is churn out sometimes-interesting drivel on my life, but I don't even feel like I'm doing myself justice on that. It feels like I've been putting out more quantity than quality. I just have this need, this itch, to write. So I sit down and words come out and end up here and while lately I've found something to actually write about, but let's face it: I've gotten pretty damn good about wasting a lot of words on nothing.

Which is okay, I guess. I enjoy it. I'm having fun with it.

But there's part of me that yearns to write something that just blows all this shit out of the water. I know I'll never write the next great American novel (well, probably. Let's not rule it out), but I want to write something with some meaning, some significance.

I just don't know how to jump from it being something I've wanted to do my entire life to something I'm actually doing. It just seems pretentious of me to even think I could.

What do I do with all this? I honestly have no idea. But it's worked its way back under my skin like an obsession, and I can't shake it, but I'm hung up on my own insecurities and I'm getting dizzy with all the circles I talk myself in.

There's really no point to this. Other than I just needed to get it out.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Breaking the Broken

There are so many ways I could write this post. So many directions it could take, so many thoughts that could end up spilling out. But I am going to try to write it as calmly and collectedly as possible. Because I'm sitting in my bathrobe after a nice warm shower, a bottle of some sort of "premium malt beverage" to the right of my keyboard, and two anti-anxiety pills dissolved into my system, taken probably six minutes apart rather than the six hours that the bottle dictates. I am fighting for calm, fighting for numb.

Because when the hammer comes down on your heart, even if you've been watching it, it still hurts, and sometimes it still surprises you. And sometimes, in the course of waiting for the other shoe to fall, the prolonged anxiety pushes you to do something, anything, to move along what fate... and instead of falling, fate picks up that other shoe and throws it at you.

I was convinced that if I'd listened to myself instead of listening to other people, it was possible that this might have gone differently. I knew everyone's intentions were good, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe they were wrong. I thought I knew him. I knew there had to be something causing his prolonged silence. He wouldn't play the she'll-just-get-the-hint game. He promised he'd never play games with me. It was something I thought I could count on. I trusted that he wasn't the type of guy to disappear without a reason.

Well, he did have a reason, I guess. At least, a reason for the silence.

I texted him on Friday as a last-ditch effort to figure this out. I just wanted to know what was going on. He owed me that much.

I get a response a few hours later that he wasn't playing games with me, his dad had died. And he ended with the word goodbye.

After I got done feeling like the world's biggest asshole (I mean - how was I supposed to know??), it just left me in a complete daze. I tried calling him, but got his voicemail, which didn't really surprise me, but it left me stumbling for words to say. I tried to push away the helpless, pained feeling aside so I could enjoy my friend's birthday. I can't quite put into words just how much my heart hurt right then.

Just like that, dismissed.

I was shaking as I got into my car and was trying very, very hard to focus on what I was doing, but clearly failed, as I was promptly pulled over for speeding. This was probably the most fantastically shitty half hour I'd experienced in a while, especially when I saw the price on the ticket. I knew they'd doubled all of the traffic fines on July 1, but, ouch. (Anyone who ever scoffs at the unluckiness of Friday the 13th can kiss my ass. Next time I'm staying in bed.)

I tried to message him later, but, nothing. I figured he was pissed at me, I mean, it was illogical but people are like that. It's not like I did anything terribly wrong. I wanted so badly to fix it. To find that magical band-aid. Because he was what I wanted. Screw all those other guys, they mean nothing to me and I would do nothing but use 'em and lose 'em. They only exist to me to fill the void that gets left by the ones that I care about it. Because he made me feel like I haven't felt in ages. He woke me back up out of my perpetual state of numbness and indifference. He's the only one I've met recently that's even been remotely worth it, and I knew I was in trouble when I started comparing all the other guys to him. (well. I knew I was in trouble about five minutes into our first conversation, but that's neither here nor there.)

And I want to fix it, but how? The timing is so horrifically shitty, the last thing he needs to deal with right now is me. But all I have is this, and the hole that it's leaving.

I had an ex-boyfriend once tell me - and not nicely - that I never knew when to quit. It stung at the time, but I eventually had to admit that he was right. I don't know when to quit. And I don't want to quit now.

Because I knew that if I didn't at least try, I would hate myself forever.

So I swallowed my pride and used all I had left - my words. If I was going down, I was at least going down swinging. Since I suspected he wouldn't answer if I called, I sent him an email. It was honest and to the point, and don't worry, I kept my crazy in check, but I knew that this was my last chance, and I wasn't expecting much. I just had to try, you know?

I'm not interested.

Words like a knife, and I couldn't breathe.

This wasn't unexpected. But while I could see this coming, I wasn't ready for it. I wasn't ready for the punch to the stomach, for the sudden screeching halt. I wasn't ready to hurt. But it did, it hurt. I don't know why it always takes me by surprise, either. I guess I always thought my bravado would save me. I was immune to the pain, because when I saw it coming, it couldn't sneak up and strangle my heart like the others. I was supposed to be on top of it this time.

But it did surprise me, how much it hurt. Simple words, but with such venom. I'm not interested. And maybe he was only reciting back to me what I demanded he should have told me sooner.

But that was it. So short, so final. So full of nothing. I want a reason, even if that reason will break me. I need to know how everything went from being exactly right to being so very wrong. I can rewind it in my head, and nothing makes sense. I don't even know what happened. It was perfect, and then it was nothing. I don't know what I might have done, or said, or didn't do, or didn't say, to change his mind so suddenly. And maybe he just met someone else. Someone prettier, someone thinner, someone smarter, someone sexier, someone perfect. Someone that is all of the things that I'm not and could never be.

I finally let myself cry. I haven't cried over a boy since last winter, and I was okay with that fact. "Let" might not be the right word; the tears came and I tried to stop them, which resulted in loud, choked sobs and waves of self-hatred.

And once I found myself able to breathe again, I reached for my phone. I didn't know who to call. I didn't want anyone to listen to me cry. I instead started sending texts to people that I needed to hear reassurance from, or people that had heard part of the story and should really get the conclusion. Text, text, text. It kept my hands busy and my mind busy. It was hard to read them through my blurred vision but with each message I got a little bit stronger, and I was starting to find my feet. I needed the reassurance. I needed to draw strength from the people that believed in me. That wouldn't say "I told you so" but would instead tell me that I would be okay, and that I was better off, and that, yes, it sucks, but it will be okay.

It's not the end of the world, it never is. It will be fine again, I will be fine again. I will be a little less whole than before, because every time this happens, it takes another little piece of me and the cracks and holes are permanent. They are scars and reminders. Usually, reminders of how I was never enough, never wanted.

When I started this whole little Experiment, I was excited and ready for this. Things were supposed to go my way this time. But it was a swift reminder of how fragile I am, and why I've spent so much time building up the walls that surround me. The walls that were supposed to keep me safe. The walls that I slowly started to let down with this guy, only to give him pointe-blank range to destroy me. Just like everyone else.

I just... I just don't understand it this time. Because we connected. He was so into me. He was into me in a way that I don't think anyone else ever had been. And then suddenly, he wasn't. Without a word, without a reason.

Just three shitty words and the onset of permanent silence.

So now I am trying to find my feet. I took a shower, I might leave my apartment, I am looking forward at what else is out there. I guess Bachelor #3 gets to play the role of the insta-rebound. Maybe I'll even convince myself I like him. 'Course, if I do that, he'll probably pick up and run too. But that's all right. He never meant as much anyway. But he is there, and he did text me yesterday, and he is trying. He seems to like me, anyway. But I won't let him hurt me, too. I'm going to be the one to cut ties on this one. I'm going to be the one to run, when the time is right. It's my turn. It's my turn to call the shots. I'm not going to let any of them hurt me anymore.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Seven! Maybe Eight. But Probably Seven.

So, I was updating my EVERYTHING EVER page because, well, after the marathon project of putting it together, I was ready to take a break and do it monthly, but I didn't, so now I've got eight months of shit to recap, and holy lord am I prolific at blogging this year.

Anyhizzle. The POINT of this is, it's been quite an eventful year, boy-wise. I felt like I've had this huge drought going, but there were no fewer than four boys who made an appearance on this here space of Interwebs between January and July, and this was BEFORE the Experiment.

Boy 1 - the unrequited crush that lasted about a year. Don't fall for your guy friends, ladies. It's painful and annoying.

Boy 2 - a boy that I was talked into going on a date with and that I really wanted to like, but kind of stalled out in the Friend Zone without much of a fighting chance. (I blame Boy 1.) I apologized for being a bitch (or, you know, being like a dude) and pulling the slow fade, and he forgave me, and I guess we're friends, but I never see him. I still feel bad.

Boy 3 - the dude that my friend wanted to set me up with, that I met once, and then he blew me off, and I wasn't terribly sad about it.

Boy 4 - the bartender that I made out with in the parking lot of his bar. Hawt.

Boy 5 - Bachelor #2

Boy 6 - Bachelor #3

Boy 7 - Bachelor #1? I suppose I should meet him soon.

Soooooo really, it's not been a bad year. Too bad nothing has stuck so far, but I guess that's part of the game. My self esteem feels a little better now.

SHIT! I almost forgot! Boy # whatever, the "friend" that cornered me in the bar and professed his feelings for me and creeped me out lots. (Side story: another friend told me that he'd made a similar confession to one of her friends. Said confession started out, "I know you're married, but..." BUT? There is NO BUT, there. Creepster McGee. Glad I dodged that one.) (This is the same dude that last winter told me all the reasons I was probably still single.)

I'm not really including him in the list though. I just thought I'd mention it. EIGHT!

I have now formulated a new goal. Let's see if we can hit ten. 1o dudes in 2010. Yes? No? Well, at least the alliteration is there.

I swear I haven't been drinking our tainted water. The heat might be getting to me, though.

Friday, August 13, 2010

You're All Winners... But Mostly Just Three Of You.

Hey, remember the giveaway that I wouldn't shut up about? I PICKED WINNERS!

Well, technically, this random number thingy picked the winners, but I had to put in a tremendous amount of effort to match those numbers to their corresponding lines in my super spiffy spreadsheet. I also had to decipher what counted as an entry and what was just an offhand comment unrelated to actually entering said giveaway and also I had to sit and angst about how nobody was entering and then I consoled myself that everyone kept telling me I was pretty. So, you know. It was hard work.

ALSO! And this is very important. You'll notice I only drew 3 winners. Prize 4 (the postcard)? I have decided that you are ALL winners, or, basically, if you entered and want me to send you a cheesy Iowa postcard, I totally will. Just email me your mailing address. Or even if you didn't enter and still want one, I suppose I'll allow it. Just, like, comment or email me or something. I'll obviously need your address and I promise I won't stalk you because I'm too poor to really travel anyway.

All in all, I counted 13 entries and then I RANDOMIZED them because I am extremely fair and ethical, except it tried to give me the same number twice and then I kept clicking the button and suddenly I got like six different numbers so once I composed myself I started picking numbers again. It was very scientific.

Anyway, drumroll, etc.

The first winner is...

ASHLEY! Ashley of The Accidental Olympian, that is. You should go visit her blog because it is hilarious and awesome and I wish I could hang out with her but Washington is kind of far and I'm kind of broke. Ashley will be the lucky recipient of one (1) copy of "Hypocrite in a Pouffy White Dress" by Susan Jane Gilman. Which did not get eaten by the flood. In case there was concern.

The next winner is...

S.I.F. from Single Infertile Female, and no, that's not her real name, and yes, I do know her real name because I asked one time, but I think she's trying to be sorta anonymous and such, so I'm not going to tell you what it is. HA. Anyway you should also check out her blog, she is an amazing and inspiring writer who talks about her struggles with endometriosis and infertility and seriously, guys. She's awesome. Also someone I can't hang out with, because she's in Alaska, which is, you know, even farther away.

S.I.F. shall be receiving the set of notecards from chimesdesign, also completely untainted by Iowa Floodageddon '10.

And my 3rd winner is...

Steph! From 33% Disaster. Whose blog I've pimped out several times because she's one of my IRL besties. Which means I actually CAN hang out with her! YAY! Unless it rains more. In which case I will be stranded again.

ALSO! And this is very important. Her birthday TODAY so you should go over to her blog and wish her happy birthday.

Steph is stuck with the Threadless tee, whether she likes it or not, which hopefully she will, because I think it will actually fit her. I'm going to make her take it anyway.

Well, kids. That's it for this giveaway. In case you didn't read yesterday's post I stuck a random giveaway on the end (isn't this fun? I should clean my apartment more often) so you can go enter that one. Also, remember, if you want a postcard, shoot me an email with your address. If you want me to swish it around in some floodwaters for that authentic Iowa experience, just let me know. ;)

Thanks for playing!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Familiar Taste of Poison

No, I'm not being melodramatic. Again. That's the title of the latest music video from my favoritest band ever and since both my IRL friends Steph and Calee have taken to sharing videos and songs that they love, I'm going to be a ginormous copycat and do the same. Also, because I'm lazy today.

So, mah band, Halestorm, is pretty much the most kick-ass band ever, you really, really need to see them live if you can, because there is not a recording device in the world that does her voice justice. I saw them, oh, four? years ago, they were opening for a band we were going to, and I was just blown away. The entire venue was just dead silent and gaping in awe. (They went back to their normal retarded concert-going ways soon after... I seriously don't understand moshing. I never will. Ever.)

Photo from when I got to meet them on their second trip through Des Moines back in '06

Anyway a bajillion years later they finally released a studio album and now they're kind of hitting the mainstream which is good for them but annoying for me because it's harder to get good spots at their shows and also because I am an emo hipster who likes it when my bands haven't really been discovered yet.

So, here are a few of their videos. Enjoy.

This song is bad-ass. The end.

This was the very very first song of theirs I ever heard (and yes, I know this, because she always opens with it.) I am pretty certain they've changed some of the lyrics from its original version which is on their live EP to their studio album, but I haven't taken the time to perform a scientific study of this. Also, I think it's really the only one of their "old" songs to make it to the full album. Sad Kelly.

And, of course, the "title track" for today's post.

This is actually one of my favorite songs off the album. The video's pretty sweet as well, the band members all play various characters in the mini film noir. The problem with story videos is that I get distracted by the video and stop listening to the song. Listen to the song, too. It's fucking AMAZING.

Go get their album, it will be the best thing you ever did. Unless you were smart like me and pre-ordered and got all the bonus tracks. Then you've probably peaked. It's all downhill from here.

Anyway tomorrow I will have my giveaway winners because I am nothing if not exceptionally slow to take care of business.

Later, tators.

EDIT: WAIT! SHIT! I have an idea!!!!!

It's epic. Are you ready for this?

When I pre-ordered the CD I accidentally got sent two hard copies of it. It doesn't have the bonus tracks on it but it's still awesome and I'm going to do *another* giveaway. Right now. Ready?

Tell me your favorite song and/or band. That's it. In the comments. Go. I'll leave it open for a week.

(Someone remind me later that I did this)

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


GODDAMMIT I am extremely perturbed right now. I just got a text message from Bachelor #3 asking if I'd gotten flooded. You know, just being nice, and considerate, and maybe even concerned. Or at least, you know, making the effort to pretend. And then after I reassured him that I was neither flooded or stranded, he was all, good deal, so, you wanna hang out again sometime soon?

*head desk*

Guuuuuuyyyys. I don't even like this dude. I don't hate him, I'm not, like, repulsed by him, he's not terrible. But I'd be okay with never seeing him again.

So naturally I was all, "sure" and gave a vague time frame as to when I'd be available again.

*grumble grumble grumble*

AND! I am having to break my one-post-a-day rule because this is, you know, timely, and my OCD about this blog is going to make me really twitchy.

What an asshole.

Another Natural Disaster (and no, I'm not still talking about my love life)

So, we've been getting bitchslapped the last three nights by wicked storms and a hell of a lot of rain, so naturally, there is officially nowhere for that rain to go and half my town is underwater. It's expected to crest around noon, and crest higher than the Infamous Iowa Floods of 1993 which I really think needs to hand over its title already because Iowa got its ass kicked in 2008 by floods and everyone is still using '93 as a yardstick against which to measure all other floods.

Anyway. I am one of the lucky few who is close enough to work that I did not get detoured at all, and I'm also one of those lucky bitches who doesn't have a basement. If water gets up to my apartment, we're pretty much all fucked and someone better be collecting animals on a giant boat.

Here are a couple pictures, I will maybe add more as soon as other people post them. Because I was able to make it to work today and cannot, alas, go take any for myself.

This is our university basketball arena.
That little piece of cement in the right hand corner?
is a bridge that goes over the entire courtyard.
Which, as you can see, is a giant effing pond.

This is my beloved Target, in the background of this photo. Moment of silence.

One of the main roads through town.

Same road, different view.

And again.

the park about 2-3 blocks from my house

same park.

aerial shot of our town sometime before noon this morning.
(this is the area around our college football stadium.)

Target, noooooo!

(I stole a lot of these from my friend Danielle. I take no credit for any of them.)


Sooooooooo, they just shut all our water off. Any water we do manage to acquire is to be considered tainted and boiled until further notice. SON OF A BITCH.

Also, I have more photos. I stole borrowed them from the Des Moines Register.

another aerial shot around our stadium

Flooded street, some of the ISU dorms in the background

I THINK this is one of our main roads (the one Target is on)
I think that little red building in the top center is our Pizza Hut.

The upper center/right of this picture is (was) my softball diamonds.
The red building is where we keep all our equipment. So far, it's still dry!

I don't know where this is, but that's a lot of water :(

Highway 30

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

So, In Conclusion, Fuck You.

Can we for a few moments indulge my crazy, PMS-driven self for about ten minutes of complete and total spazzination? Great.

Because I'm going to be honest for a minute. I'm kind of genuinely hurt by the complete lack of communication from Bachelor #2. I talk a lot of shit and I know that I shouldn't care, but you know what? I do. I do care.

Because I hate being blown off.

I hate feeling not good enough.

I hate feeling unwanted.

I hate being ignored.

I hate not being given a reason.

I hate that I'm simultaneously frustrated, infuriated, and sad. I hate that I didn't really get a chance, especially after he was pursuing me. I hate what an insensitive douchebag he's being, I hate that he can't be bothered to pick up his phone for thirty fucking seconds, I hate that I was wrong about him, I hate that I let myself get my hopes up, I hate fucking everything about this particular situation.

I get that he's busy. I get that there's the slightest of possibilities that he's got a legitimate reason. I get that he might not even realize what a tool he's being. I want to suspend reality for about point five seconds to give him the benefit of the doubt. It's happened before. Last time he disappeared and reappeared and we picked up right where we left off.

But even that is straining against the most generous boundaries of optimism.

Naturally, my only obvious conclusion to draw is that now that he's actually met me, he didn't like what he saw, and decided to bail. Which is fine. I mean, okay, it's obviously not fine, but it is what it is. But even the biggest assholes I've been with have at least had the courtesy to tell me they weren't interested. Give me at least that much. There is nothing worse than just being left hanging. (And I SWEAR to GOD if anyone uses the phrase "he's just not that into you," I will personally find you and punch you in the genitals. I fucking hate that cliche and I am not stupid. I get it. I really do.)

And I hate that I even care so much about someone I just met. Because it's not a big deal. This shit happens every day. I've just forgotten what it feels like when it happens to me. It's an all too familiar feeling and it's why I hate dating and have been more than okay staying off the proverbial playing field. It's why I'm as closed off as I am. It's why I'm as cynical as I am.

And I give guys the opportunity to prove me wrong, from time to time. But I am always proven right.

I hate that I'm starting back at square one.

I keep browsing, but nobody else seems good enough. Nobody else even has that flicker of potential to get under my skin the way he did. I'm bored with the other options; they're dull and unintelligent and uninteresting and have bad grammar.

Whatever. It's fine, it doesn't matter. This is what I tell myself.

But I am a terrible liar.

And if I get around to the point where I stop feeling sorry for myself, I get somewhere to the point where I'm extremely calm and a bit ruthless. I become the girl I never really thought I'd be able to be; emotionless, calculated, and hell-bent on leaving a trail of busted hearts in my wake. Use the boys and toss them aside like tissues. I don't care about them the way they don't care about me; but worse, because I'm better at pretending. I can play their game. I can date like a man. I can date like a man, think like a man, fuck like a man. I don't give a damn. This past Saturday echoes back in my mind, and it gives me a sick satisfaction, the way I remained so emotionally unattached. I was going through the motions and knew exactly what buttons to push, but only pushing them to be pushing them. Because I didn't give a shit about him. And I don't give a shit about the rest of them.

At this point, it's all purely recreational and I have zero expectations for anything, and as my prize, I get to remain just as jaded and bitter as ever. I'm better off staying single, as every single one of the guys I meet tends to prove to me. I don't need this, I really don't. I don't know what I was thinking.

Fun while it lasted, I guess.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go unbury myself from the rest of the stuff in my life that has been piling up on me and threatening to drown me. But that's another post for another day.