Ephemeral Smash

I found an old birthday card today, and it read, "What's this?" (Picture of a toilet) Inside the card, "It's your birthday potty. Might as well cut to the chase." Then below that, it read, "Happy Birthday Smash." I stared at the words on the page and engaged myself in all the memories that came with it. I realized that "Smash," my bold and audacious alter-ego, has been quietly receding into the shadows as a more careful and protective Ash emerges. I haven't been aware of the transition until now. But as changes go, I think this one is normal. I've changed living arrangements, jobs, friends ,boss's, reading literature . . . . as I ponder all these adjustments, and the decisions that precipitated them, I see that maybe in my subconscious, and my love-stung heart, these results happened because I realized I needed to advance.

How I Spent His Time

This title just came to me last night. I realized that when we lived together, I spent his time. It wasn't a traditional romantic relationship were two people comprised likes, dislikes, feelings, humors, etc. He was quiet and discontent with life. I was energetic and eager to please him. At the end I realized I was just occupying space in his life for a short time. It would never work between. I picked him, but he did not pick me.

During our time together my main focus everyday was how I could please him. Whatever he took pleasure in became my new passion. Camping, football, animated off-color cartoons on Comedy Central, mountain pies and indie-music. It wasn't so much that he adored these things, they were just items that passed through his life that he participated in, but the fact that he participated in them when he was such a non-participatory person, made me develop an allegiance to them. I felt that if I made them important to me he would translate my devotion to him. This is never happened. I eventually told him how I felt: blessed that he had provided me with so much pure, yet mixed-up pleasure and distraught that he never gave me the affection or consideration I deserved.

I changed. Oddly, while trying to compliment him and make him love me, I learned difficult and ugly lessons about myself. Pitiful and heartbreaking to friends and family members that saw the change and didn't accept it, but nothing felt more right than making him sandwiches at 6:30am and watching football all day while he explained the responsibilities of a QB. The smell of Suave Cucumber and Melon bodywash can still wrench my heart.

In the end he became more moody and silent. I would ask questions in a format that was reaching, and strained for some form of acceptance. And I would receive answers accusatory in manner, as if the question were not only rude, but stupid as well. The sting of one conversation would make my stomach clench. I would wait for some kind of acknowledgement and wonder whether he was playing a game with me, or whether if was possible everything was okay. As it turned out it was neither.

And that was how I spent his time.

Rhi's Birthday & Myspace Hackers

Last night I went out to Mingo at the Round in Beaverton for Rhi's birthday party. There were 11 of us and I had a fantastic time. I got to sit by Erica, which was just great by me, because she is fantastic. I ordered their Special of the Night, Braised Duck Ravioli's with Chantrelle Mushrooms in a Sage Olive Oil sauce. It was magnifico! Plus, a Limoncello Cosmo, a Ketel One martini, up, with 3 olives AND for dessert . . . a scrumptious Tiramisu. Mmmm, my mouth is watering again.

The only thing that sucked about the night was that it was so far out of Portland. I'm definitely a city girl, and Beaverton is no way, no how "the city." (I admit, I got lost trying to get back to the Pearl.)

When I got home I was going to paint my toenails, let my incredible meal digest and then go to bed, however, as I was checking my voicemails in the car on the way home I realized I had missed 6 calls. (That's normally a lot for a 2 hour time span on a Monday night.) They were all from friends who called to alert me that my Myspace account had been hacked into and someone was sending out comments that said, "Click Here for a FREE $50.00 Macy's Gift Card," and posting bulletins with the titles, "Biggest Clit" and "Penis Enlargement Pills." Lovely. So then I had to deal with that. At first, I was kinda scared. Only because I was frightened by the violation of all it. I toyed with the idea of deleting the whole account completely, but then read the security notices and just changed my account information and password. I decided I want to keep my account . . . and besides, how would I humor all my voyeuristic tendencies if I couldn't spy on all my friends and find out who-broke-up-who, who's engaged and who is about to get divorced!?!?!?!? Oh the drama . . . I would miss that!

Tonight Michelle is coming over for holiday treats, Peach Sparkltini's and great conversation. I'm hosting at my house instead of our usual "happy hour" around town. Yay! I've felt bereft of holiday cheer, but after the injection of Christmas music on repeat this morning at work and Nancee's Legendary Hot Crab Dip tonight . . . I'll be as Christmas-y as a little elf on the eve!

I only flirt with the smooth ones.

I attended 2 fantastic holiday parties this weekend. .:: My voice: Dripping with sarcasm:. One party can be categorized as I-met-a-boy-who-I-thought-was-sane, but-turned-into-a-mentally-challenged-5-year-old-with-ADD-on-steriods. The other party was almost worse because I attended a function as my Dad's "date" and ended up having to get a ride home with 2 80-year-old's because he met a woman who wanted to go dancing (and apparently spend the night at The Eugene Hilton). During the holidays, as I get older, I tend to feel like a cross between Bridget Jones (not in a "wanton sex-goddess" kind of way) and an Anna Maxted character.

Take last night for example. I arrived at my friends Christmas party completely unaware that she has changed the rules this year and everyone is supposed to come dressed up in as much holiday attire as possible. As my hosts open the door I am greeted by approx. 20 party revelers who are dressed to the nines in jangling bell christmas sweaters, red and white striped stockings, reindeer pajama bottoms and some of the most gaudy (and Goodwill's finest) holiday attire I have ever layed eyes on. And immediately I get boo'ed becuase I'm wearing black pants, black heels, and a black "boob" top. Cute, yet completely unfestive. (Guess who won the Scrooge award for the night?!?! And I am NOT a holiday grinch!)
However, things looked up when I saw my current crush standing by the tequila shots. (Side note: This crush, let's anme him "Operation Mistletoe," is a very quiet, yet pithy guy. He tends to make me smile and we've engaged in a sly flirtation for a couple of months now.) I mosey on up to him and decide to comment onhis choice attire of the evening: skin-tight, white women's pants with a tiny holly pattern, a crocheted white, brown and green Reindeer sweater, and a red Santa hat . . . White ball and all! We shoot the shit and down about 3 tequila shots over a 1/2 hour time period and suddenly, I have a feeling this will be one of those unexpected great nights.

Cut to 3 hours into the night. I am getting a little hammered, but more than drunk, I am annoyed. Operation Mistletoe has had another 5 tequila shots, plus chocolate martini's, plus dr.pepper and soco's and is running around acting like a fucking moron. This guy, who has always been so sweet and reserved has just told me for the 18th time that he can't stop staring at my boobs, he sat in the salsa 15 minutes ago, has broken my Scrooge award present, tried to put his tongue in my ear and almost fell over and took me out with him and is now running around the party with no pants on and only Christmas-inspired boxers and reindeer slippers. Oh, and he's hit on every other girl here. Another one bites the dust.

This weekend it will be round two, please pray for me that this next weekend goes better.

Ashamed Ash

It's now been 19 days since my last post and all is I can say, is "phooey!" These last few weeks have been pretty incredible, and not in a fun-wow-that-was-amazing kind of a way. Hawaii was a blast, but upon return I was irritated to find out that my irresponsible and scattered employer ( a non-profit that I will not mention names about) still had not renewed my contract and presumably was not going to. Now I have to work everything out with the contractor they DID hire. And the funniest part--- they claim they're looking out for my best interests! Ha! More like they're covering their own ass and don't want to take on any more responsibility with this project than absolutely neccessary. The whole situation is unfortunate and has made me cranky and moody lately.

I have a meeting with the contractor this week, so I'm hoping to get things resolved soon.

More once my mood changes and I can be a bit more chipper!

Viva Hawaii!

I have finally reached the point of excitement. Frankly, I was getting a little worried. Being so busy has sadly robbed me of my ability to be anxious about my impending vacation to Hawaii.

However, my mom came up from the Valley yesterday and after a dinner of carmelized chicken wings, beef pho, salad rolls and ahi tuna she got me all revved up and happy. While we enjoyed ginger martini's and white guava margaritas, she pumped me up and reminded me that this is bascially my first vacation in over a year and I really need to use this time to decompress, take some "me" time and DO NOTHING. I loved it. (In a way it was comical, my mother, the Queen of Staying Busy, giving me advice on how to slow down, relax and rest. I'm pretty sure she's never done any of the forementioned 3 anytime in her life . . . ever. Yes, I'm serious. She's that driven and perhaps has a fear of slowing for reasons unknown.)

So after our gluttonous meal at Silk, what did we engage in? A walk around the Pearl of course! And were did we end up? At a sinful gelato shop, Via Delizia- duh! So we had to each invest in a couple of scoops ("I'll take the piccolo size," Ash Unabashed says sweetly, relishing the fact that although she ordered two scoops, the actual definition of "piccolo" in Italian is "small." Brilliant.) of their dreamy gelato. I ordered the Chocolate Peanut Butter and Panna Cotta and Momrey got the Hazelnut. Mmmmm. We sat in their darling shop and proceeded to chat more about the benefits of this vacation. By the last bite we had a new motto: VIVA HAWAII!

Presently I'm in vacation mode, but now (and doesn't this just frost your cupcakes!) I'm still two days away from actually leaving. But at least Momrey gave me a good kick in the you-know-what to jump-start my anticipation. Thank goodness for Momrey's! (Even when you soemtimes get annoyed because she was supposed to meet you for at your apt. at 4:30pm and she shows up at 4pm and calls you on your cell phone and tells you she's there, but you're standing at the bus stop trying to get home and then she says, "No worries," because she'll just let herself in because she knows the code . . . . and then once you do arrive 20 minutes later you find your dishes rearranged, laundry in the washing machine, garbage recepticals strategically moved to different locations, and coffee table magazines conveniently re-organized.)
Then again, THANK GOD FOR MOMREY'S! I do adore mine!

VIVA HAWAII! The countdown continues . . . .

TV sucks . . .

. . . you in so much you lose track of time and end up sitting on the couch watching some show on FOX about two, has-been TV anchors (one male, one female) in Pittsburgh that had sex one night 10 years earlier and produced a daughter. Except the dude had no idea that for the last 10 years he had a daughter because he's a womanizing asshole and when the lady tried to call him after their tryst he was too busy packing up boxes and moving to LA to do the news there to return her calls. Plus he thought she was in love with him and didn't want to deal with her "drama." Puh-lease.
Unfortunately, I am now addicted.

Another mindless, senseless and "I'm-embarrassed-to-admit-this" show that SUCKed me in last night was Gossip Girl. Now I will admit that I've read the books and they're great fun. They will not win a Pulitzer Prize, nor will illustrious writers ever invite the author to join the Algonquin Round Table, however, they are what they are: Fute. Fun & Cute (Thank me and my sister for that one). The TV Show, Gossip Girl, is a whole other literary disappointment. Most people would argue that everytime a book is turned into any other media medium (i.e. movie, tv show, play, etc.) it always lacks character development, a soft plot line and is basically, lame. But the Gossip Girl TV series really ices the cupcake. In the book the characters are mainly teenagers from the upper-eschulon of the Upper East Side in Manhattan. However, there's Dan, a homely fellow prone to cigarettes and long afflictions of self-doubt, loathing and angst. And Vanessa, a rebellious, chubby punk girl who shaves her head, wears steel-toed boots but finds sensitivity in poetry and visual art. I digress- meaning, Hollywood has taken this friendly, bubble-gum book series and turned it into a blubbering mess of no-name, beautiful skinny girls and insanely attractive, buff dudes. To put it nicely, this show is completely un-fucking-believable. It pissed me off that people who might channel surf through this show will not be able to understand the viability of the otherwise, young-adult fluff that fills the book series. People, seriously, this collection is like cotton candy. Light, airy, sweet and probably pink. What's not to like?

A night filled with RhiinPink, 2 David's (one Hill, one Bliss), Fez, Kari, and one, ever evovling, Josh Leake.

It is now Friday and I can't believe I went out everyday this week. Tonight I might have to abandon my plans to stay in and recover! Last night might have been my favorite night out.

I met Rhi (check out her infamous blog at Rhinpink.com) for a bottle of wine (David Hill Pinot Noir-yum!) and crostini and sirloin pizza at Vino Pardiso around 5:30pm and we were off . . . . talking a million miles a minute and promising not to ever go so long without getting drunk and smoking menthols together. Let's just clarify this point: it had been TWO MONTHS! Btw- VP has a killer happy hour. 1/2 off a bottle of vino with the purchase of a snack. We found out what "speck" was. My vote was for a raisin and Rhi was like, "Huh?" It turned out to be a thin slice of meat, kind of akin to prosciutto. We ate out speck and drank our bottle and then headed out the door for some meet and greets for the Pearl District! (Yes, I am that unprofessional.)
Our first stop was Fez Studio. As were were walking over, with the obligatory Camel menthol hanging out of our lower lip (with fresh lipgloss of course!) we spied a dark figure in the shadow . . . and sure enough it was David! (David Bliss this time, co-owner of Fez Studio!) I pounced on him like a cat and the look on his face was priceless- he had been caught- SMOKING! :) Like we cared, we were too! I introduced Rhi and we all headed inside for champagne and pampering. Fez saw me and was like, "Your hair is soooo straight- it looks amazing." This is what I love about Fez, he is actually THAT sincere. And he notices all the little things that none of the shit-heads I hang around with ever notice! He is such a doll. I adore him. I wish I could wrap him up and take him with me everywhere. He's the biggest confidence booster in the world.

We ooohed and ahhed and then had to depart for Circle Studio. They are a new member and I had never met Kari before, so let me gush for a minute. SHE IS DARLING! So sweet and full of excitement. She has this beautiful new studio and if you meet her you know she's going to make it because of all her enthusiasm and personality. What a gem. She even told me nearby neighbors have come out to sign up for classes. (This please me immensely because this is the whole mission of the PDBA.) We took out shoes off, looked around, networked and then were offered a to-go plate of Saint Cupcake dot cupcakes and were off.

The last and final journey of the night was Leonardo's on Lovejoy. We met up with Josh and he bought us cannoli, more crostini, Basil Mojitos, Limencello Cosmo's and he offered me a ride home. (Ummm, actually I had to ask, but it wasn't like I had to "twist off" his arm. He'll get it.)

We dropped Rhi at her car and rode the Land Rover off into the land of happily ever after. Actually we just drove over the Broadway Bridge and into Irvington where I live. After I got home, I scarfed some of my delish cupcakes and took my drunk ass to bed. (Unfortunately after a few drunken-dial texts to unmentionable boys. Dumb me.)

I'm on my way back to Fez's right now for a "Sultry, smokey-eye make-over." Yay! I'm sure that will help reel them in tonight. Wish me luck!

Happy Halloween!

Remember the days of mini-Snickers, dressing up like a princess and getting to stay up late and eat candy with friends?!?!?!?! (Well, neither do I! I've spend WAY too much damn time at this office!) It's Halloween and there will be lots of baby ghosts and goblins out, so be careful, along with the tikes there will be hellraisers looking to start trouble, so have fun, but be aware!

Fun times at Teardrop Lounge

Cheers for one-year reviews (Kjersti), no more migraines (Michelle), independent cats (Sarah) and Mom's who visit for the weekend and bring you groceries and "utility" garbage cans (Ash)!

We met at Teardrop Lounge last night in the Pearl and had a fabulous time! Michelle met me at my office and then we strolled down to 10th & Everett. The weather was so beautiful, and we had a great conversation. It went like this:

Michelle: I'm so glad you weren't there yet! Now we can back over there together.

Ash: Back over there? Were you already there?

Michelle: Yah. Actually I was parking the shitty Altima right in front of the bar and then the Range Rover behind started beeping and lights flashing . . . the whole mess. The alarm was going crazy and everyone was staring at me in the bar so I didn't want to walk in and be known as the "Girl-who-drives-the-shitty-car-and-made-the-expensive-car's-alarm-go-off." So I just ducked out of the car and walked over here.

Ash: (Laughing hysterically).

Michelle: I didn't hit the car or anything! But you know how the Pearl is . . . we probably wouldn't have been served!

Once we got there (of course, we didn't even LOOK in the direction of the Altima!) we sat down at there mod and dwarf bar tables. Actually we squeezed into the blue booths. The server, a pretty girl with a lovely red tattoo down her right arm, informed us of all the specials. I tried the Last Batch Summer Sangria and M went for the Kiwi Daquiri. Her drink was definitely better than mine-tart and sweet. Yum. Then we went on a ordering spree and gorged ourselves on cold soba noodles with tobiko, truffled papas, summer shrimp rolls and hoisin chicken drummettes. And of course, we washed down the above with two more homemade cocktails. Mmmmmm. Sarah and Kjersti got there about 1/2 hour later and we had a great time chatting. I really needed that.

The co-owner, Daniel, is a really cool guy. In fact, Michelle and Sarah both have crushes on him. Ooohhh- how cute. But I am impressed that he makes his own bitters. I mean, c'mon, what bar does that?!?!?

When the leaves start falling, they're falling in love with fall.

This morning when I got to my bus stop I noticed the above quote scrawled on the little rain depot. Normally any kind of graffiti irritates me, but somehow when I looked around at the leaves turning gold and the blanket of foliage on the sidewalk, I got it.

Don't be THAT woman!

Yesterday my boss and I were walking to a meeting and I made a comment about my evening activites, which consisted of babysitting a colleague's 4 year-old daughter, and my boss said,

"Oh. It's sad, really. You used to go out all the time. At least several
times a week, and now it seems like you just work late and stay in."

Wow. The statement stunned me so much I stopped dead in my tracks. I know she wasn't trying to be mean or rude because she truly is the best boss in the world, but the comment stung just the same. It's one thing to have these type of sentiments rummage around in your own brain at night, but it's quite another to actually have people notice your life is turning pathetic and point it out.

In response to that "ah-ha" moment I've decided to plan some more activities and once again get back on track to being the "Smash" that everyone knows and loves. Enough with the moppiness, enough with the Sarah McLaughlin music, enough with the dinners from Paragon eaten out of a box in front the computer in my Pearl office. Enough already!

This weekend I am not only going to gorge myself of my patheticness, but also finally finish unpacking all those nagging boxes (containing memories that I think I subconsciously prefer to keep boxed) and see the movie, "One" which Melissa recommended highly.

(I'm also cat-sitting for my sister. Which is right back in tune with my "poor-love-stung" Ash theme, but I'll make it fun and maybe peruse her Pure Romance toys and books for some "educational McLovin' advice." And I adore her cat, Ramsey. He's shy, skittish and cuddly. The only man in my life worth blogging about right now.)

Where oh where has all the time gone?

Seems silly of me ask this rhetorical question when I'm pretty sure it hasn't gone anywhere. I just keep filling it up with more projects. And time-sucking people.

Looking at my schedule this week I realize I have to get my time under control. My Sunday began with waking up at 7am and not being able to go back to sleep because I was worried about all the things I needed to accomplish before Monday morning. I got up, unpacked more boxes and then - - - KABOOM! The weekend was off and running and it was Sunday night before I knew what hit me. Does this happen to other people. The whole, I'm-more-tired-on-Sunday-night-than-I-was-on-Friday-at-7pm?"

One good thing about this weekend: Frog Hollow Farm's yummy turnovers. They are nothing like the Pepperridge Farm sickeningly sweet, artificial pastries of yore. The Frog Hollow Farm turnovers are savory, with a crispy-crackly puff pastry wrap, filled with organic ingredients and herbs that produce something that tastes half-homemade and half-gourmet restaurant. They are delish! My personal favorites . . . Butternut Squash and Spinach Turnovers and the Mini-Risotto Tartlettes. Find them here: wwww.froghollow.com

Bus Bites #1

On the 6:

Last night I had to work late to finish the final edits for our new walking map, so I left the office around 8pm and headed out to my stop.

First of all, dumb me, I wore heels yesterday thinking I didn't have any meetings outside the district, but completely forgot in my new penchant to be more eco-friendly, that when I ride the bus I end up walking about a mile.

I met this woman at the bus stop and we started a conversation. She was asking questions about the MAX and the bus system and I naturally thought she was not from Portland. After several minutes of conversation she actually dumped her story on me.

• She was from Portland
• She works at the Nike Childcare Center
• She used to be a travel agent before evil expedia, travelocity, and priceline took her job
• She just got back from Jamaica
• The trip was not for pleasure but because she had to tie up loose ends because her own father was vacationing there a month ago and was killed in a freak scooter accident

I think my jaw just hung open for like, 2 minutes. I am in PR and people usually are drawn to me with stories . . . but this was like full disclosure on the 6! Like a good PR girl, I easily shifted the conversation back to banal topics, while also assuring her she was strong for getting through this rough period with grace and a calm demeanor. (Obviously, this was a lie.) But I almost felt that openness was cathartic for her. I could feel she needed to let it go--- and in a way--- I was pleased I could provide that for her. We continued chatting as we boarded the bus and when I got up for my stop I told her to stay positive because with positive thoughts comes a positive life, and she told me, "Thank you for listening to me." It made my heart feel a little better in the end.

Sometimes I think in the wake of my crazy, work-filled life I forget to listen. I guess it took a grief-stricken woman in need of an outlet to show me how to be a better listener, if only for 15 minutes.

Unwelcome late night visitors

This was posted on myspace by my best friend's ex-girlfriend. It's fucking hilarious! It's about her friend--this guy named Riley. I was actually laughing-out-loud when I was reading it.

Okay, so not all of you know my friend Riley, but after reading this, it had to be shared with everyone.

So Riley used to live in Portland and then moved. He is one of the most polite guys I have ever met, so it makes it almost funnier:

It seems like no matter where I move to I end up having to deal with an odd neighbor. My current situation is no exception.
The following happened just a couple days ago. Minding my own bussiness, in my appartment alone, finishing up a late night dinner of Jack in the Box's finest cuisine I hear a knock at my door. I don't know anyone in my complex, and very few in this whole city. Needless to say I didn't know who the hell was visiting me this late. I look out the peephole and see a girl in a tube top and short shorts outside. I open the door and she says semi-drunkenly "Is Nathan here?". "Umm..Nope, just me and I'm not Nathen." She says "Oh, do you have any beer?". "No, I just have some wine" SHIT- Why the hell did I just tell this poozer I have wine? "Do you think I could have some?"she says. "Well, I guess so!?, Come on in."
Damnit, I don't know this girl. Not attracted to her so don't question my motives. As most of my friends know I can be too nice for my own good. Anyway, she comes in and I fill a glass of wine for her. In the meantime she's telling me that she had got in a fight with her boyfriend and she was wondering around the complex in search of people with their porch lights on to party with. I tell her "Well, these lights are on timers and everyone's light is on". She continues rambling on and I'm thinking how the hell I'm going to get rid of this girl? "I think I'm going to go have a smoke outside" HINT! "Oh, I'll go with you, do you have one for me?" Arghh, "Yeah, I'll give you one". I only have one chair on the porch so I tell her to have a seat. "No, this is your place, you take it". Whatever. I sit down and she plops on my lap. What did I get myself into? So while smoking she proceeds to tell me all sorts of weird shit. She lost her virginity at age 11, she is a mother of two-one of which she had three weeks ago, and she was born in '88! etc... After smoking we come back in and she says she's gotta go check on her newborn. YES! Leave please. Not so fast, she wants to come back if the kid's asleep. I say "I think I'm gonna go to bed, but I guess you can try" STUPID Riley!!
What do you think she did? Yes, she came back, but not alone. She brought her newborn baby over along with her own pack of smokes! I'm thinking What the fuck!? By this time she's pretty tuned, so I say let me hold your kid for you. She saw this as a great opportunity to go have another smoke. As she went to go outside to smoke she walked right into my closed sliding door. Luckily she brought a bottle over for her kid. I stood in my kitchen holding, feeding, and burbing this baby. Not quite finished smoking, she comes into my place with her cigarette and holds it up to my face to give me a drag while holding her kid. What the hell, get that out of here! After finishing her smoke she takes her baby. I mentioned she was wearing a tube top right? Well, while holding he kid the top slides down exposing her boob. Uhh.. How about I hold the kid so you can fix yourself. She really didn't give a shit, she just pulled out the other one to feed the kid. I'm standing in my kitchen with this chick I don't even know with her boobs hanging out feeding her child. Could it get any worse? Yep, the exposed, lactating girl tries to kiss me. Hell no! "What are you doing? And isn't your baby daddy across the parking lot?" She says "Yeah, but he's just a boyfriend." After dissing her move on me she decided to call it a night. Finally! I offered to walk her home and carry the child so she wouldn't drop him, but she declined. Poor kid.
Sure was glad to have that over with, but wouldn't ya know, she left her smokes at my place. Just can't win. Next morning - knock knock. Hmm.. I don't think I'm home. I take off and leave the pack outside my door so I wouldn't have to see her again. To my dismay, the pack is there when I get home. Later that evening - knocking. It's her. "Do you have my smokes?" Sure Do! Here you go - later! "Thanks, hey I was pretty drunk, did we uhh.. you know?" No Way!
Man, I hope that girl gets her act together. I feel sorry for the next door she knocks on. Rest assured if it's mine, I won't be home - even if I am. Damn, I wish I were a home owner.

Oh those boys!

Does anyone else always attract "those boys?" You know what I'm talking about. The ones that make your heart smile and then destroy your life? It's like boy-crack. I'm addicted. I can't stop. I keep doing it.

It started with Nick, then Travis, now him. (I have to refer to him as "him" because his name is too unique. This whole post would pop up as number 1 on any Google search if I used it that many times repeatedly. So we'll just go with "him." Cleaner. Not so pyscho.)

My sister and I chatted about my very problem the other night. (Weeeeeell, we actually didn't CHAT about it. She was drunk and I was love-stung, so we honestly cried and hiccuped and sniffled about it.) But we came to the conclusion that I always do this. She yelled, "You always do this!" I bemoaned, "I don't know how to stop!" And in a Sex-In-The-City-esque revelation, we determined that I use this safe-as-friends-but-then-i-went-and-fell-in-love-with-you as an excuse to worm my way out of real love. The kind of love defined by two people who are in it together. Not this unrequited shit I'm always wallowing in. But how do I stop? I think I must kind of like the drama of all it, because it's always happening.

I'm all about lists. Maybe I should make a list right now of ways to avoid this redundant pitfall the next time I start to crush on a boy. Let's get started:

• Start believing that he's a good guy and not just some shmuck to have fun with.
• Realize that he likes me for me and not what I can do for him (i.e. networking favors, sponsored cocktails, pet-sitting!!!!)
• Look him in the eye and know that I AM a good catch . . . and he should be so lucky!
• When he asks me out, not automatically think it's on platonic terms.
• Don't hang out with guys who have girlfriends.
• Quit disguising my true feelings with the whole "friendship" agreement.
• PUT MYSELF OUT THERE! Just let it be known.
  

Those are some pretty hefty resolutions. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. We'll see how it goes. Don't worry--- I'll keep you posted.

New life, new process!

In the last month I've:

• moved out of the "Real World" House
• moved to my sister's house
  
• started a new job
• said goodbye to a familiar friend
• moved into my new apartment
• vacationed in Las Vegas
• become incredibly sick (in an icky, coughing, sputtering, runny nose kind of way)
  
• slowly slid into oblivion
• worked my way up into a perceptible context

That's a lot for one girl. Even if she is me.