Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Friday, December 09, 2005
Monday, December 05, 2005
Friday, December 02, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Of course, it doesn't end on Ebay. From the NPR website article:
There are individuals and groups in Asia and Eastern Europe where people are paid a very low wage to play characters for long hours -- with the sole purpose of making virtual money that will later be converted into real money.
The farmer's character will try to make the most amount of money during his shift -- some are rumored to have quotas. In order to do this, the characters perform certain tasks that are guaranteed to make money -- killing monsters that drop large amounts of money, and going on quests that yield valuable in-game items like weapons and armor.
The farmers then sell their items through online sites.
Anyone else find this strange, and maybe even a little frightening???
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Survey time! What's your favorite Thanksgiving food item?
Friday, November 18, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
I like that my website creates an emotional response. I want people to feel something when they read what I have to say. I would prefer a happy or even sad response, but I can run with anger too.
Please know that I will never apologize for the content of my website. I put a lot of thought into my entries, and they’re all a part of who I am. I enjoy having this medium to put myself out there for everyone to see, but sometimes honesty can take us down unexpected paths. Part 1 took most of a week to get just right before publishing – I hope that no one thinks I take this task lightly.
With that, enjoy my website. Laugh. Cry. Gnash your teeth. But please don’t pass judgment.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
The drama you're creating is really adding to the traffic that my site receives! As much as I love the added readership, it’s getting a little out of hand. Let me outline a few points for you.
Most importantly, we’re not in high school anymore, m’kay?
Please don’t use my website as a vehicle for bringing general nastiness to light. Only I get to do that. I love comments, and I value every opinion, but being that I am the administrator of my website, I reserve the right to delete comments at will. I like having the comment option available for the fun and witty things, but I’m not interested in any cutting remarks, especially when they aren't about the specifics of the original post.
On that note, please limit your comments to the subject at hand! You're more than welcome to disagree with anything that I post on my website. You can even express your disagreement by way of commenting; Just refrain from being nasty, of course. It’s not the disagreement that bothers me. What bothers me is your tendency to bring other subjects and people into the conversation, which might not belong there.
I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate randomness. By all means, leave a comment that says “Applesauce” after this post. However, I have to politely ask you to knock off the passive-aggressive bullshit.
Since I’ve stopped allowing anonymous commenting, you obviously have your own blog. If you can’t follow these simple requests, maybe you should stick to posting in your own space.
Post-it notes aren't cutting it anymore.
I made an Excel spreadsheet in an effort to obtain some sense of organization. I have everything broken down by order and grocery shopping requirements, listed in chronological order by date.
Okay. Hold on. Did you read that last part? I actually wrote out grocery lists for each order, and figured out the date that I need to go shopping for ingredients for each individual order. Then, I put all of this information on AN EXCEL SPREADSHEET.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Monday, November 07, 2005
I remember when I was 11, and I went to live with my aunt for what would come to be 4 years. My mother came to visit shortly after I had moved in, and I was so excited to see her. She arrived, and as an 11 year old who felt incredibly displaced, all I wanted to do was be near her. Even if I wasn't part of the conversation, just to be in the same room, sitting nearby, was a great comfort at the time.
Unfortunately this feeling was short-lived, on account of my cousin's need of a playmate. She must have been about 6 at the time, a great age difference to an 11 year old. Needless to say, the last thing I wanted to do was play "dress-up" or "Barbie" that afternoon. Said cousin was less than pleased with my lack of interest in playing that day, and in being true to form, went to her mother to have the situation straightened out. My aunt insisted that I play with my cousin. I had learned early-on in my transition, that any resistance to my aunt's wishes was reason for an "attitude adjustment" so I reluctantly went to the basement play-room with a very contented cousin.
I didn't see much of my mother that day.
I haven't thought of this day in quite some time, but the other morning I woke up and it was the first thing on my mind. I remembered it so clearly, and the familiar feelings of resignation flooded me. I laid in bed and cried that morning like I haven't in a very long time. It felt so good, but so very draining at the same time. At that moment, it was perfect.
I don't really know why I posted this. I guess it's been on my mind all week, and I needed to get it out. Maybe I just needed to put it out there to say, "I can be hurt and survive." I don't know what the reason, but it feels good.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Friday, October 28, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Friday, October 14, 2005
Thursday, October 13, 2005
I'm feeling a bit better. This changes from day-to-day, but for now, I'm feeling pretty good. Last night when I arrived home, I was greeted by a lovely bouquet of flowers, complete with a Halloween card. Yes, I said a Halloween card. It made me smile. The best part was that inside said Halloween card, in the midst of many nice things, it said "Happy Hump Day". I love that card.
So that was nice.
I decided to make myself a nice dinner. My usual staple of "easy meal" took a new fabulous turn when I made a quesadilla with cheddar, pepper jack, smoked cheddar, feta, fresh oregano and chopped tomatoes, all grilled up in a frying pan. I decided to cook it slow, so that all of the flavors would have time to meld, and I could relax a bit before devouring my meal.
Just as I turned the burner on, Heifer started to eat my flowers. Well, not the flowers, but the green stuff. He loves the greenery in a bouquet. So, I'm trying to wrestle with him, when I notice Cricket scooting across the tile floor on her butt. She does this sometimes, and usually I find it amusing, but about the time she hit the carpet, I realized, there are poop streaks all over my hallway. Leave Heifer to continue eating my flowers. Pick up Cricket in football grip, so as not to get poo on my clothes, and head to the bathroom. Sit down on the toilet and investigate. Crickets ass and surrounding fur are covered in crap. HOW DID SHE DO THIS???? I went to work...First with toilet paper, then upgraded to an old rag with warm water. I must say, she did very well, considering I was pulling at the hair around her asshole. Poor thing.
Cricket's clean, I'm clean, Heifer's demolished most of my greenery. Quesadilla is ready to flip. Perfect timing. I can do this! It's the Poop Ballet!
Flip quesadilla, decide I really want a glass of wine, knowing that I only have a few bottles, which I've been saving for a special occasion. Decide to celebrate my sanity with the most expensive bottle that I own.
So very very worth it.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
EFF You, Tom Cruise, And I Hope That's Exactly What Katie Holmes Says When You Try To Keep Her From Medicating Her Post-Partum Depression.
You might not hear from me for awhile. Well, unless something really funny happens, like someone falling on their face while trying to board the bus....That's just funny, People.
Those of you who know me even a little bit, know that I blush easily. It was always really fun when I was 15 and my 3 older sisters would take turns randomly saying "SEX!" to see just how red I would turn. Well, luckily I've gotten over that, because I have some pretty socially ungraceful friends. Whenever I blush, everyone gets a big kick out of it. "Hey everybody, look how red Kim just turned!" "Oh my god, even her arms are red! Look!" Nice. Well, the blushing thing isn't fun anymore. Now it's turned into full-blown anxiety, and I don't have any way of explaining why the hell I feel the way that I do on a daily basis.
On my last post I told about being asked to run a meeting. That was on Monday of this week. I had a little chat with my boss yesterday about that blog post. She's assured me that I would never be forced to do something that makes me uncomfortable. She said that I'm great at my job, and that I continually impress her with my ability to take on new projects and even create them on my own. I know all of this, but I still can't shake that feeling. Let me say that I love my job. I do. I enjoy what I do and I value those that I work with. I truly have it made in the job department. In spite of all this, I couldn't go to work this morning. I couldn't deal with this horrible fear that something might happen that would make me uncomfortable.
Since Monday I have spent every afternoon trying to keep myself sane between bouts of nausea. See, I know, logically, that the meeting conversation was just an offer made in case I might be interested in running a meeting but hadn't spoken up. No biggie. However, in my crazy head, it's become a looming threat. "What if someone of higher importance wants me to run a meeting one day? Will they think less of me if I say no? Will they understand that I just can't do that sort of thing? When are people going to start noticing that I'm not actually good at my job??? Am I just going to fall through the cracks and be one of those useless employees who manages to stick around through the years? Do they already realize that I'm not good at my job, and I just haven't made that revelation yet???"
Welcome to my world.
Everytime that someone stops by to visit the person sitting in the cube next to me, I listen to their hushed conversations and become engulfed in an unwarranted paranoia that they might be talking about me. Logically? Well, I know that I'm really not that important, and even if they are talking about me, who really cares. But the reality is that I'm convinced that they are, and regardless of what they're saying according to my created scenario, it makes me feel horrible.
Now, some of you might be thinking, "Gee, Kim, I know you like your job and all, but is it really worth all this trauma?" You're absolutely right, and if it were just about work, I would take some serious action. Enter Exibit "Mind Fuck":
1. I've stopped letting my cats outside because I'm absolutely convinced that one of them will get hit by a car. Now that they are inside all day, I sit at work and worry that something will happen. "What if my little Hiefer jumps up on the counter, and when he jumps back down, a knife falls on him???" This isn't just a passing thought. I dwell on this all day.
2. I started having night terrors about 2 months ago. I wake up absolutely terrified for no reason. I feel as though someone has been holding me down, and I am so scared, that I can't even scream. This has led to a fear of someone entering my apartment. When I get home from work in the evening, I engage all 3 locks on my door. Sometimes I sleep on my couch so that I will wake up more quickly if someone tries to get in at night.
I had an appointment for an annual girly exam today. I love those. I especially like it when they rub my cervix with that bristle brush. Good times. So, the nurse came in to take my blood pressure. Everything's fine. We chatted a bit about why I was there. No big deal. The first mistake was her leaving me there for nearly 30 minutes waiting for my doctor. In being true to form, my mind started to wander to horrible things. "What if she finds something wrong???" I finally got control of that, and thought, "Y'know, maybe I should talk to her about all of these things that have been bothering me so much. I might have an anxiety disorder. Maybe some medication would help keep me balanced." Seemed like a good idea to me. But, the story doesn't end there, of course...what fun would that be?? "What if she wants me to start seeing a counselor? What if I need something more immediate than that??? What if she prescribes drugs, and they make me feel worse? What if I find something that works, but I have to take 5 other drugs just to deal with side-effects???"
Isn't this game fun?
My doctor, who I absolutely trust and adore, walked in the room, and gave her usual cheery hello, to which I respond with a fit of crying. I finally calmed myself down, and started to tell her what had been plaguing me for the past 2 months. Apparently this crying business actually works, as my doctor has diagnosed me with "Generalized Anxiety Disorder". Do you know what this means? It means that I'm scared shitless of everything that could happen in the confines of my head.
I'm taking a very low dose of anti-anxiety medication. With the small amount that I'm taking, we should be able to catch any reverse or side-effects before they get out of hand. Yes, I'm a little scared, but I have to believe it will be worth it, because I'm so tired of feeling this way. I don't know if any of you have dealt with depression or anxiety, but it's absolutely exhausting.
I hate that I have fears just like everyone else, but rather than letting them pass I dwell on them all day. I hate that I love my job but I'm afraid to go there. I hate that I love my apartment, and until 2 months ago I wanted to spend every moment there, but now I'm so fearful and uncomfortable when I'm there.
I have to believe that this will help.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Recently I was asked if I would be interested in running a conference call meeting. I just started laughing and told her absolutely not, under any circumstances, will I ever be interested in running a meeting. Ever. Said person reminded me that I wanted public speaking opportunities, to which I responded, "Yeah, well I just changed my mind on that."
See, standing in front of a small group of people that I know very well is pretty intimidating for me. Running a meeting? Paralyzing. I don't mean to say that it makes me nervous, I mean to express that the mere thought of doing such a thing scares the living hell out of me.
Today I was sitting at my desk, working as usual when my mind started to wander. I had created a scenario where the Big Boss Man asked me to present something during a meeting. Nothing big, just a contribution that I would be able to make to a Large. Group. Of. Important. People. By the time I came back from this little day dream, I was just about beside myself, tearing up, bright red, and even shaking a little.
Don't ask me for another example. I'm all worked up just thinking about Example A!
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
I don't have a car, which is probably a good thing considering how annoyed I get on the road when I'm not even driving. So, my options are limited to slowly moving toward being an hour late for work every morning, or catching a bus an hour early just to get to work on time. This is merely guess-work. For all I know, I'll still be late even if I catch an earlier bus.
I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Monday, September 12, 2005
Friday, September 09, 2005
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I understand having political/moral convictions, but get over it. I'm tired of seeing people choose their donation service based on the other things that said service accepts donations for. I've even seen someone making another feel bad because they made a donation without knowing the entire background of all of the causes that a donation service supports. "Sure, they're a legit operation, but they take money for those crazies at PBS. Did you know that Big Bird is the DEVIL? DID YOU???" Starbucks is taking donations. You can walk right up to the counter, and make a donation. They have a special SKU in the register dedicated to taking Red Cross donations. Oh, but did you know they support the GAY AGENDA??? That's right. They're marketing for those crazy gays. Before you know it, Starbucks might start a HOMOSEXUAL PROSTITUTION RING.
On second thought, better not donate via Starbucks. Who knows what else you might be supporting.
I have to say I'm really bothered by people who turn everything into a political argument. Yeah, a lot of people really fell short when the hurricane hit. Unfortunately there has been much unneeded suffering as a result. Well, I'd say it's about time to stop with the finger pointing and just take care of the issue at hand. There are lots of people out there who don't have time to sit around while we sort out this business of who is at fault.
I think Mighty Girl puts it best:
Thank you to all of the countries who have offered that help, especially those of you who have put aside political differences to do so. Thank you Canada, Cuba, Venezuela, Saudi Arabia, Dominica, Russia, France, Japan, China, El Salvador, Israel, Paraguay, the U.K., the United Arab Emirates, the Netherlands, Honduras, Germany, Venezuela, Jamaica, Australia, Switzerland, Greece, Hungary, Columbia, The Dominican Republic, Mexico, South Korea, New Zealand, Guatemala, Belgium, Singapore, Sri Lanka, Italy, Guyana, Indonesia, Austria, Lithuania, Spain, Norway, and the Bahamas. We're humbled by your compassion.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Friday, September 02, 2005
The Stranger is a local independent paper in Seattle. I love their liberal outlook on political subjects. The joys of being independent - you can say whatever the hell you want. Part of an article that came out yesterday:
George Bush has one more day, if that, before his administration’s response to Hurricane Katrina becomes a huge political disaster...Bush will visit New Orleans tomorrow, and if the scenes of anarchy in the city continue up to and through his visit, he is toast. He has one more day.
I don't know about all of you, but I'll be anxiously awaiting the reports of how that little visit went today. Anyone taking bets on whether or not Bush will be wearing a vest???
In other frightening news from The Stranger:
The week kicks off with news of the most fertile high school in America, straight outta Canton, Ohio. Today the Canton Repository reported the startling findings regarding the city's Timken High School, where of the 490 female students, 65 are with child. Further fright is supplied by the Canton Health Department, whose statistics reveal that of the 586 babies born this year at Canton hospitals, 104 were produced by girls between the ages of 11 and 19. "School officials are not sure they know what caused so many pregnancies," reports the Repository.
I honestly don't know which is worse, the situation, or the response by the school officials!
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
I haven't had any complaints sofar, so I assume that everyone enjoys the photos...feel free to let me know if you miss the text. I may or may not pay attention.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
1. Overhearing one of my sisters, "When he drinks, he gets aggressive...sexually."
2. Dad telling everyone that I have a foot fetish. Which I don't.
3. Family friend puts his arm around me, and says, "You're a lot hotter when I'm drunk."
Pictures to follow...and not of that, perv.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Friday, August 19, 2005
This is just one example of why I'm certain to see all of my wonderful, yet heathen friends in the afterlife.
Me: And what did you come up with?
H: Gwen Stefani and Missy Elliott would be Betties. Britney Spears? Not so much.
Me: So, what's the definition?
H: Y'know, a girl who's tough. Someone who's not afraid to take care of themselves.
Me: A girl who's not afraid to smoke a cigar?
Me: I wonder if I could be considered a Betty? At least an Up-and-coming Betty, maybe.
H: Definitely. You're the best kind of Betty. You're a Betty who cooks.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
I'm going to Portland this weekend for my sister's birthday, and really didn't want to lug around my heavy Nikon with it's assortment of lenses. So, I did what any "I don't care to pay rent this month" type would do, and I bought a new digital camera today during my lunch break.
Yes, I bought it at Office Max, and yes, it really does rock the socks. 4.1 megapixels, baby! Sure, I had to ask what that meant, but I DID know that it was better than all of my friends' cameras. That's right. I'm better than all of you. Get over it.
Pictures to follow...
Pinwheel, pinwheel, spinning around. Look at my Pinwheel and see what I've found.
Pinwheel, pinwheel, where have you been? Hello, how are you, and may I come in?
Pinwheel, pinwheel, spinning around. Look at my pinwheel and see what I found.
Pinwheel, pinwheel, breezy and bright. Spin me good morning, spin me good night.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
This morning someone told me that I should call him back at 6am. Imagine all the possibilities! "I'm sorry, but I don't think this is going to work on account of our conflicting schedules. That, and I don't have room for another dumbshit in my life right now. But hey, best of luck to you!"
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
If you read those last two sentences, you might be led to believe that I understand this process.
The other day I was hanging out with a newly acquired friend, and he was telling me a story about a recent grocery shopping trip. Apparently he was having a hard time finding the corn, and finally had to ask for help. When the clerk took him to the corn, he realized that the reason he couldn't find it was that he was looking for the color yellow. When he told me that last part, I reacted without thinking, "You're such a moron!" Luckily my new friend has a good sense of humor about the whole thing. Otherwise, I'm sure I could have found a way to roll my tongue up into my mouth, and pull my lower lip over my head.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Reading your blog and I figured you'd be interested in advancing your life a bit, call us at 1-206-339-5106. No tests, books or exams, easiest way to get a Bachelors, Masters, MBA, Doctorate or Ph.D in almost any field.Totally confidential, open 24 hours a day.Hope to hear from you soon!
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
ICE - In Case of Emergency
A campaign encouraging people to enter an emergency contact number in their mobile phone's memory under the heading ICE (In Case of Emergency), has rapidly spread throughout the world as a particular consequence of last week's terrorist attacks in London.
Originally established as a nation-wide campaign in the UK, ICE allows paramedics or police to be able to contact a designated relative / next-of-kin in an emergency situation.
The idea is the brainchild of East Anglian Ambulance Service paramedic Bob Brotchie and was launched in May this year. Bob, 41, who has been a paramedic for 13 years, said: "I was reflecting on some of the calls I've attended at the roadside where I had to look through the mobile phone contacts struggling for information on a shocked or injured person. Almost everyone carries a mobile phone now, and with ICE we'd know immediately who to contact and what number to ring. The person may even know of their medical history."
By adopting the ICE advice, your mobile will help the rescue services quickly contact a friend or relative - which could be vital in a life or death situation. It only takes a few seconds to do, and it could easily help save your life. Why not put ICE in your phone now? Simply select your person to contact in case of emergency, enter them under the word 'ICE' and the telephone number of the person you wish to be contacted.
For more than one contact name ICE1, ICE2, ICE3 etc.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
The other day I needed Traci to move some pictures from her digital camera to a disk for me. I don't know if it was intentional or not, but she included a few extras. For your viewing pleasure....TRACI!!!
Monday, August 01, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
-Run down the aisle squealing "It's my birthday on Sunday! It's my birthday on Sunday!"
-Pirouette in front of random colleague's cubicle.
-Resume running and squealing.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
I was definitely due for an upgrade, I just wasn't counting on being forced into the change on the same weekend that I was scheduled to move. Not only was it an additional financial burden, but I was in the midst of arranging moving parties, and I didn't have a phone. The girl from TMobile was absolutely fantastic, and she offered to ship my new phone via Air Express free of charge, but I still wouldn't have a phone until Monday or even Tuesday. Luckily my good friend Don came to the rescue, letting me borrow his extra business phone, so all was well again. I still had to call around to my landlord, moving friends, moving company, etc. to give the temporary phone number, but I was relieved that I was able to reach out to people.
So, I have a new phone. And a new apartment. I love my apartment, and I'm slowly getting used to my phone.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
I've received several emails since my last post, some from friends, some from people I don't even know. I think its fabulous that in the middle of all the hate and ugliness, there are still people with nice things to say, who will go out of their way to say them.
Side note - 'Anonymous' who ruined everyone's fun is not the same as "Post Post Post!!!" 'Anonymous'. This entry is dedicated to the latter. More than one word, even!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Hey, Anonymous...yeah, You. In case you weren't aware, this is MY turf, and I am god. Next time you're going to post a comment somewhere, try to make it less obvious that you don't care to understand what you're talking about. Oh, and if you're going to make especially mean statements, be sure to have the balls to give your identity.
To everyone else - if you really can't cope with the lack of comment opportunities, or you just want to say "Hey, I appreciate the things you have to say", or "I really dig your brother's story - fab, baby, just fab!", feel free to email me - a link to my email address is located in my profile.
Monday, July 11, 2005
For everyone's reading pleasure, my almost 8-year-0ld brother's story! (If you're good, I might let you see the artwork at a later date...)
Brass was a beetle who had black wings and was two stories high. One day he was looking for roses to eat. He was looking deep into the forest. Suddenly, he came upon an old old city. There was moss covering every building and there were no people. Suddenly, Brass found what he was looking for, sweet smelling red roses. Then he found a deep twisty hole under the rose bush. So he ate a rose. Then a ghost came out of the hole! Then Brass spit the petals out! Then he ran into one of the buildings! So the ghost raced after him! Then the ghost was right beside him. The ghost said, "Boo!" Then Brass smashed into a wall and it broke to bits. Then brass said, "Ouch!" So the ghost said, "Boo!" Brass turned around, went through the doorway, ran through the forest and all the way home. He never ever went back again. He lived happily ever after.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
1. Apparently my privacy and comfort levels don't mean shit to some people.
2. Apparently if you intentionally make decisions that will make my life difficult, it just means that we have different priorities, and I need to learn to deal.
3. Apparently storing your stuff somewhere means that you "live" there, and anyone who thinks differently best recognize.
4. Apparently Skagit County jail sucks. Bad. ("Apparently" is the part which signifies that I had nothing to do with it, Mom.)
On a positive note...Woodinville is a pretty short drive from Seattle, and the wineries aren't so bad. Washington state has a standard which requires that reserve wines only include the top 10% of the fruit. Grand reserves are only 1%. Washington is the only state that has any such standards, and if word gets out that you aren't following along, it makes people wanna bust a cap...That, or they just make it pretty difficult for you to acquire things like bottles and corks.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
I woke up at 11:30 last night with a spider crawling on my arm. I must have been really sleepy, because I didn't immediately fly out of bed. In fact, I sat up and actually contemplated going back to sleep without investigating. "There was a spider crawling on your arm, you (expletive) twit! Turn the light on and do something about it!" It was a very "Get up, Trinity. Get UP!" moment. I turned on the light and found a small, but fat, black spider hanging out by my pillow. Caught him. Flushed him down the toilet. Somehow managed to fall back asleep.
This morning as I was contemplating how I could possibly go to work without having to get out of bed, I noticed another spider on the ceiling. This one was brown and skinny. Skinny, yes, but not any less freakish than the fat black one. I looked at this spider on the ceiling, and thought, "Hmm. I'm not tall enough to reach it. Maybe it will go over to the wall so I can catch it." As the spider started crawling across the ceiling, above my bed, I thought, "What if it dropped? What if it dropped right now?? No, wait. What if it dropped right as it reached the space above my head???" I'm sure you can imagine my surprise when it reached the space above my head, and actually dropped. Shrieking and throwing of blankets ensued.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
I recently came to the sudden realization that I'm turning 25 in two months, and I'm not doing what I thought I would be. I've been doing a lot of re-evaluating.I always fancied myself as the girl from the movies who uproots herself and runs away to live in another country.
Of course, I know it's the romance of it all that I find attractive, but I feel that I'm not as adventurous as I always thought I would be. I watch myself living in the suburbs, getting up every day to go work at a desk in an office building, and I think, "This is not my life! Who's freakin' life am I living???"
I hate the thought that this may be all I'll ever do, y'know? I've kept myself from branching out by convincing myself that I'm "tied down" with my job, bills, and other responsibilities. Now I'm starting to realize that I was just hiding behind those things so that I wouldn't have to approach the "unknown".
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate feeling secure in my job, and having a nice place to come home to, but I don't want to end up in my 30's, wondering why I didn't explore other possibilities. I've had conversations with older friends who talk about how they don't like the direction their life has taken, and that they haven't accomplished some of the things they'd set out to. I remember having these conversations and thinking, "That won't be me; I'm going to embrace life and the opportunities that I have to explore other things." Now I'm starting to realize that I'm not far off from those friends, age or mentality-wise, and I don't want to end up with the regrets that they have.
I think I'd like to save up and go somewhere in a year or so. Just take off and live somewhere strange and non-touristy for a few months. A "Self Discovery" of sorts. I'll have enough saved up to pay rent while I'm gone, and I'll schedule an extended leave of absence from work.
Running away from it all, responsibly!
Thursday, May 12, 2005
At first, I was in a state of shock. "I can't believe I just did that!" However, my amazement was soon replaced by really intense pain, and then the waterworks started up.
Unlike the underwear conversation of a few weeks ago, I did not divulge too much information this time! Even though I only told my coworker that I had poked myself in the eye, he still made fun of me.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Things started off innocently enough - a slight sore spot in the back of my throat; Itchy ears. The next morning I had a full blown sore throat. A few days later I was stuffed up, and then the next day I started coughing. Not just a cough...but coughing stuff up. Gross.
A week later I went to the doctor because I was still feeling like hell and leaving work early every other day or so. Lucky for me (and him), this particular doctor is really good at seeming to give a damn about how I feel, so that was nice. Unfortunately, I no longer have a silly little cold. I have a sinus infection.
So, now I've missed nearly a work of week all together, I've paid for a doctor's visit, and a prescription for antibiotics. I've finished my bottle of Nyquil by now, so I have to get more. This is getting quite expensive.
Matt dropped my prescription request off on his way to the gym, and called to let me know it would be ready in about 30 minutes. An hour later I still had not left for the drugstore, because I was still sitting on the toilet. It wasn't that things weren't happening initially, but things stopped happening just short of being productive. It was right about then that I realized, I haven't pooped in 3 days. Luckily Matt and I have been together long enough that I can make silly requests such as, "Hey Honey, would you mind running to the store real quick to get me some strawberry ice cream? Oh, and while you're at it, why don't you pick up an enema?"
Well, we got that disaster under control. I finally got to a point that I didn't think I would need Nyquil to sleep, but after last night I realize that I've come to depend on it for sleep.
I forgot to take acidophilus when I started taking my antibiotics. I have the worst yeast infection ever. Ever. This is coming from someone who would know what the worst ever should be like. So, now I'm popping supplements like candy, in hopes of catching up and realigning my system.
I equate the last 2 weeks to the following:
I'm in an airplane and I've just gotten used to the bumpy flight when I hear, "Attention passengers. This is your pilot. It seems that we're about to enter the eye of the storm, so I ask that everyone fasten their seatbelts and remain calm while we ride this one out." Shortly thereafter we nosedive and crash in the middle of a war zone. I regain consciousness just in time to hear, "Fiiiiiire in the hole!"
I've come to terms with the fact that I'm bound to acquire another more annoying ailment. I'm just having a hard time preparing myself for something worse than fire in the hole.
Friday, April 22, 2005
So when do you suppose it hit the other guy? "No matter how much I pray; No matter how many goats I sacrifice, I'm never getting my planet back."
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Last week everyone received an email invite for "Understanding White Culture". As we were all trying to absorb what we were reading, we heard a faint voice across the expanse of cubicles, "Oh yeah, I nearly forgot - April is Cracker Awareness Month!"
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Please disregard the previous statement if you want your upper thighs and crotch to be encased in ice, and therefore outlive the rest of your body.
Of course, if nothing else, it's highly entertaining to see your colleagues fall out of their chairs from laughing so hard.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Why is it that people on the bus feel the need to sit close enough to me that we touch arms? I fucking hate that! I am not a large person, and neither are you - there's absolutely no reason for us to be touching! This has been happening on a daily basis, with a variety of riders. People are gross. Don’t touch me if I don't know you!!! I'm tired of having to sit against the wall, with my outside arm across my chest. I mean, which is worse - touching another person, or touching part of the bus?
And another thing.
Why is it such a pain in the ass for people to rinse out a milk jug and toss it in the recycling? This morning I went to make my latte, and there were *4* cartons in the refrigerator with tiny bits of milk in the bottom. This also happens a lot. Apparently if you see that there isn't enough milk for an entire drink, you're supposed to just ignore it and open a new carton. This doesn't usually bother me, but this morning, as I was busy emptying the first of *4* cartons into my pitcher, I nearly got sick from the smell…then I realized the expiration date on that particular carton was April 01. What is wrong with people????
I should write a book. Musings of a Corporate Peon: A Tale of The Peons Who Make My Life a Pain in The Ass.
Friday, April 08, 2005
After Matt and I went to the Vancouver aquarium, he perfected a really fantastic Beluga whale impression. Matt pulls his arms to his sides and flaps his hands while he bobs up and down, keeping a very peaceful smile on his face the entire time. I laugh hysterically every time he does this. It's so funny, in fact, that I make him do it for people all the time. Not because I want to embarrass him, but because I think everyone should get to know the hysteria that is Matt.
I ruined a good thing.
Easter Sunday we were at his mother's house for dinner, and we started talking about our trip. Of course...Perfect segue to the Beluga whale impression! So, Matt, the obedient boyfriend that he is, stands up to start doing his act. Before Matt gets a chance to show off his newfound talent, his mother starts to tell a story about her Beluga whale experience. Please keep in mind that we had enjoyed some wine by this point.
"I went to the aquarium and saw the Beluga whales one time. There was one whale off in the corner amusing himself by bobbing around. He must have been really enjoying himself, because he had an erection the entire time!"
Matt refuses to do his Beluga whale impression now.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Friends and Family,
We all have lofty aspirations in life, and I am proud to announce I have attained a lifelong goal that I once thought was merely a fantasy.
Yes, I am proud to say I am now a resident of the beautiful greater Federal Way, Washington area.
Aghast with envy you might be, I know. Sure, you North Sounders have your lakes, your arts communities, your BMW's and two car garages.
But I have chosen a different path, a path wrought with the exhaust belching from the rears of an endless line of 1980 Chevy Citations and 1984 Buick LeSabres, a path lined with 17 Office Depots, 42 Radio Shacks and 187 Teriyaki joints, a path that I affectionately refer to as "320th Avenue South." And at the end of that path lay my own slice of heaven, my own nirvana if you will. It's the Arco Gas Hut on the corner of 320th Avenue South and Pacific Highway. If there is a greater place to be on this earth at 4:26 AM on a Tuesday morning, please let me know where it is.
Sure, go ahead, laugh. I laugh as well, to tears of remorse each and every day, but have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, you didn't ever take the time to learn about the real Federal Way? I know how you snotty North Sounders are. I used to be one.
Have you ever thought that, hey, perhaps Federal Way can offer it's residents superior community services? Maybe Federal Way provides a relatively unknown yet vibrant cultural scene? What about fine restaurants, and institutions of higher education? Did you ever think to yourself that maybe Federal Way might offer any one of these things, or could even offer all of them at once?
Well, before you go jumping to conclusions, let me answer that question for you.
It offers absolutely none of these things.
Not even a tractor pull for God's sakes.
Just so you guys can have a little more information on my new hometown, I took some time and compiled some interesting trivia about Federal Way, and now I would like to share that with you.
A Detailed History of Federal Way
Federal Way used to be a highway. Then there was a Kmart. Then some guy opened a sword shop. Then some people got shot. Then some fat guys built a freeway exit. Then the people demanded places that offered quality donuts at reasonable prices. And today, Federal Way is a really good place to be if you find yourself in the market for a laundry hamper.
And that's what happened. Quaint, isn't it?
Here's some more information I curtailed from a book called "Reasons You'll Love Federal Way!". Actually, it's not really a book, it was more of a leaflet. A really small one, stuck on my doorknob. Half of the leaflet was reasons I'd love Federal Way, the other half was a coupon for 10% off Cheese Bread at one of 56 participating Federal Way area Domino's Pizza outlets.
FEDERAL WAY, WASHINGTON
Defined: Federal Way is a derivative of an ancient Klickitat Tribe term "Federah Whaya Hye", which, literally translated, means "Hey, let's dump all our shit here."
Number of Pedestrians hit by cars in 2004: 121,723
Unemployment Rate: 99.9%
Primary Industries: Strip mall construction; Mattress sales; Thuggery; Loitering; Abandoning cars; Production of unwanted children; Welfare Disbursement offices; Narcotics.
Educational Facilities: DeVry institute, Scuba Division. Dress Barn Training Center. Washington State DUI Victim's Panel Conference Center. Getting beaten up on the street.
Official Federal Way color: Tar
Commentary: Tie between Tar and Suffocating Exhaust, which I did not
know was a color.
Official Federal Way bird: Pigeon
Commentary: Apparently this only applies to a pigeons with a beak. They are protected. If you run over a pigeon with a beak, you will be sentenced by a judge to spend 15 minutes in Sea-Tac Mall.
(Editor's Note: Oh, excuse me. It's no longer "Sea-Tac Mall." Now it's "The Commons at Federal Way", or "Downtown Federal Way." Which is like giving George Bush a sparkly wand and a princess hat and calling him "Peacekeeper." No matter what you call it, you still don't have to buy bullets down here. Just walk around the mall for a while and you'll be full of them. There's even a police station in the mall. Didn't get that? I'll say it again. There is a police station IN the mall.
Official Mascot: Food Stamp Freddie
Commentary: Food Stamp Freddie wanders aimlessly around Federal Way because he is unemployed and waiting for his welfare check. Wears oversized Raider jacket, and he's a Crip motherfucker, so don't you start steppin' to him.
Official Flower: Grime-covered decorative shrub with beer can in it. It's outside Arby's on 320th.
Commentary: For the love of God, don't eat at Arby's.
Official Flag: Surrender.
Local High School: Federal Way High School, home of the Federal Way Societal Burdens. The football team plays half-heartedly in the first quarter, then waits for the government to bail them out. All seats in the stadium are in Section 8.
The Official Motto of Federal Way hasn't been decided yet, but it has been narrowed down to ten finalists.
"Federal Way: Lamp Shades Always 20% Off."
"Federal Way: We're Sort Of Kind Of By The Airport."
"Federal Way: At Least We Ain't Burien."
"Federal Way: Where Anyone Can Be Better Than 95% of the Population, and Also Get 2 Free Tanning Sessions!"
"Federal Way: You Just Stepped In It."
"Federal Way: Dashing Your Dreams Since 1972."
"Federal Way: City of Hopes and Fears. Okay, Mostly Just Fears."
"Federal Way: Get Knocked Up by the Time You're 14."
"Federal Way: Urban Blight 365 Days a Year."
"Federal Way: Birthplace Of Wilbur Fortknee, 1974 US Enchilada Eating Champion."
Federal Way provided me with a wide array of apartment and condominium options to choose from, and some came without bars on the windows. I chose an "apartment community" called Cove East, whose sole purpose for existence is to deceive you into thinking that you aren't in Federal Way anymore. This is done with an amalgamation of visual tricks, such as trees, a big pond, and even a fake river. Seriously, I walk out of my "condominium-style" apartment, and there is a river, right there, for me to fall into.
For those really into nature, Cove East also provides an ample supply of violent, water-based fowl, whether you prefer perpetually angry and aggressive geese, or simply intestinally challenged ducks whose innards are unable to congeal their excrement into any type of solid, removable waste product, so what comes out is essentially the consistency of yogurt, yet with the adhesive qualities of Elmers Glue, so it just basically just sticks to my porch like a Van Gogh painting on a concrete canvas.
I've realized that management in my community cares little about the bird problem. They manage everything here except the ever-increasing proliferation of pond birds. In fact, the property is littered with signs supporting their continued evolution.
"Don't feed the ducks or the geese!" the signs scream. "Feeding the ducks and geese human foods will make them very sick, and they could die!"
And then it shows a picture of a sad goose. A sad goose? I know that goose doesn't live here. Most the geese here carry chainsaws.
Um, correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't killing the geese the ultimate goal? Do we, as a community, want to remain ankle deep in stringy white goose turd? I think not. I do believe we should change the signs. "Please, oh, please, community members!" it should bellow, "Please feed the ducks and geese chili dogs, frozen pizzas, canned okra, and macaroni and cheese. Feed them paper clips, plastic packaging waste, hot wings and Eggo Walnut Waffles." This, at least, would get them out of the pool area.
Yes, the pool area. That has become the Baghdad of the Cove East bird population. Sure, they have a humungous pond the size of a football field to live in, complete with lily pads, reed banks and flowing streams. But where do they choose to reside? In the community swimming pool of course, which is right next to the pond. The geese own the pool, and mark their territory by shellaqing the pool deck with an amount of goose poop that is only exceeded by the amount of goose poop actually in the pool. Occasionally, the ducks, who act as the insurgents of Cove East Pool Area, will try to break into some pool space, but the geese attack and feathers fly. I could make a living stuffing pillows on the pool deck at Cove East. But anyways, I digress.
I've ascertained that the using word "community" here is really pushing it though, because generally people in my "community" stare at me with suspicion and contempt, usually from their porches where they can't ever seem to find the time to ooze their obese asses off of. I feel like I'm guilty, and I haven't even done anything. Then I decided to steal a bike, so then at least my guilt won't be unfounded. I think I stand out as one of those "city boys" with "one of dem collar thingys on his shirt." Maybe they are just startled that I have a job, or, more likely, they're just really high on spray paint.
Moving in was quick and painless, in the same sense that getting eaten by a shark is quick and painless. IKEA selected and delivered an unintentionally two-tone computer desk, which may have worked in the 70's, but not today.
Two-tone would not work, you see, because I chose to make all the furnishings in my apartment white, along with my white carpets and white walls, thinking that women would believe I’m a modern, progressive man. Instead, it just makes it easier for them to inspect my apartment and tell me where all the dirt is. Which is good, because living in a white apartment, I am actually forced to clean it every 12-16 hours. Normally, I'd probably do it every 12-16 months.
Lastly, I would like to thank the good employees at Comcast Cable and Internet Services, and offer my prayers that your corporate headquarters will someday release you from the barn you are housed in. When I called Comcast I said "Hey, can you guys come hook up my new 'ultra-modern white condo-style apartment'" (I was trying to impress them.) "Sure!" they said. "Can you be there tomorrow?" They must have been impressed that my apartment was all white.
So they came the next day, and the guy went through the usual routine of pretending like he was really busy "hooking up" my cable, when indeed all he was doing was flipping a switch. Then he left and my modem didn't work. "Gosh darn" I said, "what an unfortunate situation I find myself in."
Actually that's not what I said.
So I call Comcast and say, "Hey, the guy just left, and my modem is broken." "No problem," said the cheery, um, woman, at Comcast. "We can have someone come out there and fix it for you." (Silence). "In two weeks."
I said "Wow, how unfortunate I got stuck in this predicament."
Actually, that's not what I said.
So after verbally flogging the poor girl, I got it down to eight days, which they term "emergency service".
And just because of that, I'm going to become a fireman. And when their customer service center catches on fire, they can call me, yelling "FIRE! FIRE!" and I'll calmly say, "Well, I can come help you with that fire. Can you be there between noon and 6 pm 13 days from now and show me where the fire is?"
The moral of the story is the same one you learn from your gym. Once you sign on the dotted line, they don't care about you anymore. It's like getting married, only not as bad.
So having no cable service, no computer, and no TV, I spent a few days looking at the wall in my apartment. It was white.
Anyway, I'm at work, with a lot of time to kill on this slow night. I have to go actually "work", so I'll cut this short before Random House publishes it. (Next week, rather than write a notice, I will be sending you all a handcrafted origami aardvark.)
You can still contact me at (xxx) xxx-xxxx, unless I owe you money or just pretend to like you, in which case I was run over by an unmanned wheat combine last Monday.
So, if any of you are unlucky enough to ever be in Federal Way for a court appearance or a laundry hamper or something, or if you just happened to get into a head-on accident in the I-5 area, feel free to drop by my place, and if you bring any mud in, I'll be really pissed.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
The girl in the other stall was singing. Seriously.
Just as I was noticing that my feet stuck out from under the stall door, and realizing that the other girl was able to see my shoes as she was leaving, it got very dark in the room. She had turned the light off. She hadn't seen my shoes.
There was a brief moment when I could have yelled, before the door shut behind her. I was thinking "Say something! Yell Kim!!", but nothing came out. I just sat there in the dark. There weren't any windows in the bathroom. It was really freakin' dark, and I was in a tiny stall. I reached my hands over and found the toilet paper dispenser. Frantically turning the roll, I realized I couldn't find the end of the roll. Oh my god. I started to freak out and thrash a little bit.
Think Kim. Think. Maybe I should just start yelling. No. I'll just sit here and wait for someone to come in and then I can thank them for turning the light back on. No. Maybe I can waddle out of the stall and turn the light on, then run back to the stall before anyone sees me. No. Dammit.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
Scenario: You're in a restroom at an eating establishment. There are two stalls. DON'T TURN THE LIGHT OFF!!!
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
6:35am: "They prefer it when I don't get up until 7:15." Snooze.
7:14am: "My alarm cycle won't coincide with 7:15. I'll wait until 7:20, because I have to make sure that I get up on an even 5 minute mark." Snooze.
7:20am (fully upright): "Who the hell are 'They' and why would they care if I get up before 7:15???"
I swear to god I must have been abducted by aliens at some point.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
I've had the desire to express myself by way of vulgarities, but I have to limit myself to "damn" or "ass" for fear of offending loved ones. Sure, there's the strategically placed asterisk, but that option always seems to convey a cuteness that I'm just not in the mood for.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Saturday, March 05, 2005
In the beginning, God created the Heavens and the Earth, and populated the Earth with broccoli, cauliflower and spinach, green and yellow and red vegetables of all kinds, so Man and Woman would live long and healthy lives.
Then using God's great gifts, Satan created Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and Krispy Creme Donuts. And Satan said, "You want chocolate with that?" And Man said, "Yes!" and Woman said, "and as long as you're at it, add some sprinkles." And they gained 10 pounds. And Satan smiled.
And God created the healthful yogurt that Woman might keep the figure that Man found so fair. And Satan brought forth white flour from the wheat, and sugar from the cane and combined them. And Woman went from size 6 to size 14.
So God said, "Try my fresh green salad." And Satan presented Thousand-Island Dressing, buttery croutons and garlic toast on the side. And Man and Woman unfastened their belts following the repast.
God then said, "I have sent you heart healthy vegetables and olive oil in which to cook them." And Satan brought forth deep fried fish and chicken-fried steak so big it needed its own platter. And Man gained more weight and his cholesterol went through the roof.
God then created a light, fluffy white cake, and named it "Angel Food Cake," and said, "It is good." Satan then created chocolate cake and named it "Devil's Food."
God then brought forth running shoes so that His children might lose those extra pounds. And Satan gave cable TV with a remote control so Man would not have to toil changing the channels. And Man and Woman laughed and cried before the flickering blue light and gained pounds.
Then God brought forth the potato, naturally low in fat and brimming with nutrition. And Satan peeled off the healthful skin and sliced the starchy center into chips and deep-fried them. And Man gained pounds.
God then gave lean beef so that Man might consume fewer calories and still satisfy his appetite. And Satan created McDonald's and its 99-cent double cheeseburger. Then said, "You want fries with that?" And Man replied, "Yes! And super size them!" And Satan said, "It is good." And Man went into cardiac arrest.
God sighed and created quadruple bypass surgery.
Then Satan created HMOs.
Thought for the day:
There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.