Friends

One thing I have realized of late, is that quantity is not better than quantity.  Looking back, I probably should have realized that soon after losing my virginity; but that is yet another blog...another time.  Today, I am referring to my number of friends. 

I have never had a lot of friends-ever.  Even as a young child, my mother would receive phone calls from my teachers telling her that I was basically, socially backwards.  By kindergarten, a child usually picks out a buddy and pairs off.  Not me.  No, my problems with commitment apparently started at the tender age of 5. Although, seriously, I was not "socially backwards," as those stupid bitches would say; I prefer to think that I was "socially advanced."  I was smart enough to know that some where a long the lines some little bitch was going not share her new Barbie with me or give me the white baby-doll and I would need to trade-in and trade-up to a friend who had something better to offer, like bubble gum.  I lived through my teens and into my 20s that way-skipping from friend to friend, click to click without any desire to be one of their "card-carrying," members.

Getting to the point, I have finally settled down and can count my friends on one hand.  The ones that I can truly count on and some of you actually read my blog!  I feel confident that if you went to kindergarten with me that you would have said how cool it was that my mom fucked up and got me a Smurf costume instead of Smurphette.  You would have shared the white baby-doll and given me a piece of gum; and for you few, I am truly thankful.

FYI...if you feel that you are not one of the few, I will be posting an application for membership.  I have one spot available, but I pretty much just need a DD. 

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

So, I was on my commute to the office to what, now, has become nothing short of a mini-Detroit, and suddenly something from the past that my mind suppressed comes to me.  It was prompted by seeing the same sign that I had seen that day of the traumatic incident.  I recall wanting to blog about it right away, but it was too painful.  It made me feel dirty and it was all the I could do to keep from passing out or getting ill.

It is one of those things that you hear about, but think, "that will never happen to me."  Well, it happend.  My sixth sense told me to not go in, but the gift bags are so ridiculously cheap that I could not resist--looking back, I should have never walked into the Dollar Tree.  What I would see next, would rival www.peopleofwalmart.com. 

The creatures were all shapes, colors and sizes, but mostly came in extra-large, black, and size-two of them could not walk side by side down the aisle side by side.  They were mainly dressed in very tight t-shirts--although in their defense...a sheet would have been tight, so this was probably more appropriate for the Dollar Tree Department/Grocery/Card Shop/plus whatever the hell else you can think of under a dollar-Store.  It was not just their appearance...they spoke a different language.  One of the creatures yelled at their offspring, "taneesha-use getta yoazz hair nah!"  WTF?  I was scared.  I was in a land where I proved to be an outsider.

I hurried to the check-out, after picking up my gift bags, only to find that the line was all the way down one aisle 1/2 way to the back of the store.  I could tell the creatures were angry, I heard one of them say, "diz-ez-da-waz-deez-crackerz-do."  I could make out "crackers," but I could only guess why he was angry...maybe they ran out of crackers, or something like that.  Minutes later, a group of white creatures appeared.  Their speech was broken, but I was able to understand them.  Originally from KY, I had seen similar creatures at my family reunion.  The mother creature lit up a cig--the line was long and her need for carbon-monoxide was very strong.  Actually, had she not been smoking Marlboro Reds, I probably would have tried to bum one to deal with her obnoxious offsprings, Dale and Bobby Jean. I felt faint.  I blacked out and woke up in my car with no gift bags. 

I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders by finally writing about this.  I could not leave Madeira for 2 months and was forced to shop at their overly, we are screwing you on gift bag, prices.  Dealing with Culture Shock Disorder is very real and painful mental disease.  Please, if you or you suspect a friend are suffering get help immediately-remember that you are not alone.

If things had been different...

You know, one of the things that first popped in my mind this morning when I walked around the corner of the building is not that fact that some random small statured-tiny dancer, does not like me; but the fact that my friend, Bear did not stick up for me.  Did not stop and say, "Excuse me, are you referencing me?."  After the men responded, "No, the girl walking towards us."  That was her chance.  She would blow another, later-chance, that is.  It could have played out so differently!

I walked around the corner this morning to see my friend, Bear.  She walked by two men, who work on the 11th floor in between the time they spend smoking a pack of cigarettes, everyday.  I saw her glance back at that men, she is quite the attention whore.  Suddenly, she begins to spin around, she leaped in the air and with a jump-kick, she takes both men down at the knees.  I run to help her, not knowing what has transpired.  We run to another and embrace, "Heather, I say, are you ok?" 

"Hazel," she says, "those men that I just passed.  They said they don't like you!"  My eyes began to weld up with tears, I have never had an enemy.  I think the feeling was similar to what Bear feels when she remembers how pathetic she was to lose her virginity to one of those freaks that were in the band in jr. high.  The ones that play dungeons and dragons; but the tears, the tears were because I knew, that my friend, she stuck up for me.

If this is how it had played out, I could say, "yeah, that's my friend and she will kick your ass."

How are you? Part 2

I did not actually forget to walk when I came around the corner, this morning.  There was no warning for what would happen next.  I keep replaying it in my head.  As I turned the corner I saw Bear coming my direction still a bit away.  I gave her my signature beauty-pageant wave and she waved back, clumisly and over-excited, like a somewhat mentally challenged girl watching Sesame Street.  It was one of those moments that you feel both the embarrassment for knowing the gimp, but then the glory of being the person who is nice to the gimp.  Anyway, what happend next literally came out of the darkest of thunder clouds.  Bear, looked at me with her eyes crossed, as usual; I try not to not make it an awkward moment for both of us and look at her forward and then it came...

"Wow, you have some enemies!"  I was like WTF?!?!?  She must be kidding.  She is clearly jealous...let it go; but after I asked her 37th time, I realized that she was not lying, nor could she have drummed this up in that small area of her brain that is still funtioning at full capacity.  She continued to tell me that the taller man, who I know works on the 11th floor (and he is NOT my friend), said to a man of small stature, "Here comes the girl you don't like!"  Bear turned around, because she hears this a lot; she is not very popular.  This is what validates her experience, because Bear did turn and look at the men after waving to me and the men were looking right at me.

I have to admit to being puzzled.  How could someone NOT like me when they have not spoken to me?!?  It is like someone NOT liking me after they talk to me-it just does not happen.  Later in the afternoon, Bear and I board the elevator and who should appear?!  The man who gave the heads up to the little bastard that does not like me.  It was obvious to him that Bear ratted him out, she glanced at him and looked back at me.  I looked at him and said "How are you...."

"How are you?"

So, Saturday I have to stop by Walgreen's with Mad-girl to buy an over-priced Crayola Glow Board for her friend's b-day party.  At the check out, I ask the clerk how she was.  She literally responded, "Terrible."  I was taken aback and said "Okkkk...uh, so dealing with the public may not be your best option."  It is her job to make me feel delighted to be at Walgreen's, not awkward.  Apparently, she is not intelligent enough to know that being greeted by a stranger with "How are you?" demands a "I'm well, thank you; how are you?"  I was offended, because she did not even return the greeting and if she had I would not have said,  "Well, I was hungover most of Saturday, because I got blasted on Friday night and now I am f-ing pissed off that Collin is working and that I have to attend an insanely loud and crazy birthday party with over 20 five and six year-olds, that I had only RSVP'd to because I knew that I could send Collin.  I have a shit-ton of laundry to do and my cat, just got ran over on Friday and is being stored in the freezer at Madeira Veterinarian for about $35 a day thanks to my sweet, animal-loving neighbor who could not bear to see my already dead cat sit in the heat until I got home.  Other, than that, I am ok."

I have a lot of experience in food service and retail.  My initial career in the hospitality industry began in my teens.  I am going to guess that out of over 100 resumes, that McDonald's was most impressed with mine.  Oh, and strangely enough, my chemistry teacher's wife was the office manager!  We would grow to become great horse buddies, and then I would date him, eventually; but that is a whole other post, in itself.  Anyway, through dealing with the public, I would grow into a compassionate, caring, and polite person.  Even on the worst days, I would have never responded to "How are you?" with "Terrible."

Blink...not the crappy band.

Something is amiss today.  Every morning that I turn the corner on the block of the building and forget how to walk; I know I am in store for something.  Two weeks ago, I forgot how to walk and later that day, I fell and suffered mass trauma to my ass. 

The above was written right before noon.  At 12:46pm I saw on caller ID a missed call from my neighbor at 12:06pm.  I called her knowing that it was not good.  Our cat, George W, was killed and was left lying in the middle of the road.  The neighborhood kids found him. My sweet neighbor picked him up and took him to our vet.

I think that we all have a 6th sense, if we really pay attention to detail, that is.  In a blink of an eye, your brain takes in so much information, it is insane.  That gut feeling...it is really in the brain.  I can size up any new employee in a heartbeat or anyone for that matter. I can pick up their personality after a couple conversations in spite of what is on the outside.  Take my friend Heather, I knew that she was a bitch from the get go.  She practically had it wrapped around her like a sash in a pageant and when she mentioned that she had been in the Army, I pretty much knew that she was a bad-ass and would throw away one of my gloves after a small spat.

Thankfully, I do not have to turn the corner on the block, tomorrow.  Happy Friday.

Cadillac Escalade-Chevolet-whatever Ranch

So, over the weekend I had the misfortune of visiting a place called Cadillac Ranch.  I work downtown...rarely is an additional commute welcomed, this was one. I thought of at least 5 reasons why I needed to cancel on said "friend."  FFS, though, if I get sick for the 10th time in 2 weeks, suspicions may fly that I am lying.  Which, by the way, technically, I am not.  I am certifiably mentally ill-I have an out no matter what, but I hate to pull the trump card unless entirely necessary. 

Cincinnati is interesting.  Voted in one survey as one of the "Best Cities for Singles," it has also won one of the top 10 spots in the superlative, "Most Depressing."  Puzzled before by the articles that I read, Cadillac Ranch has made it all too clear.  Disturbingly clear.  I saw the many socially-challenged singles mingle, the mommas, the babies' daddies, their five or so spawns, and the trashed "you can so bang me at 2am," chics riding a mechanical bull.  They fulfilled the best of the single life and I, the depression.  I searched desperately for any type of normalcy.  I requested a wine list.  The bartender offered me "we have white and we have red."

Cadillac-f*&k-me-running-Ranch has qualified me as one of the many in the "depressive" superlative.

Thank you, Cadillac Ranch!  I have never been voted cool in anything: I feel so awesome!!!

BBM or Call Me

It has been a rough start to the day.  The two gremlins that I had borne awakened during the wee hours of the morn and prepared a bountiful spread of rainbow colored goldfish, mini-bagels, choc. syrup and milk, but not before turning every light on in the house and any TV in their path.  I get over it.  Then, the call from Collin..."OMGosh, you have sent over 400 texts and the plan allows for 250-SHARED!"  Uh, so change the f-ing plan?!??!  He says no. 

I never used to text.  In fact, I would get highly annoyed if someone texted me instead of calling me.  I would not reply to the text-I am decent and I phone them, instead.  I loathed the friends that did not answer...WTF, you just texted me!  Two minutes later another text.  My ex-friend did that all the time.  One of the key factors in our separation.  But now, now it has all changed...I have awakend to the benefits! 

If you call someone all wasted, the next day they will excessively mention how drunk you were and tell EVERYONE; like you need to hear it-you're  f*&king hungover.  If by chance they only see a missed call then you have to deal with the awkwardness of, "I saw you called last night...I was in bed-what's up?"  WTF, you grab your phone and see that you called practically everyone in your "contacts" and know that they will all be calling back to see what was going on at 12:30 am on a work night.  But, if you text...they really cannot confrim that you were drunk texting (drexting).  They can suspect, but not confirm.

So, what does this all mean?  Put your phone on silent after 11 pm.  Do not text me unless you have BBM or are with VZW.  I am on strict orders and will be forced to call you to continue any type of communication, regardless of my sobriety.

Popularity

I know that I have mentioned that I have a lot of friends.  Well, I have a morning friend who I pass in the alley on the way into work.  He stopped me one day and said "you always look so beautiful!" and we have been good friends ever since, and it is cool because he is my first black friend; I have not named him, yet.  I have some other friends in the alley that like to smoke a ton, but there is another friend, Hat, that I pass on my commute back to my car on 4th street when I prefer to take the main side walk who has prob. been around the longest.  So, yesterday I took the high-rode and my new black friend and oldest friend are together! Secretly, I knew that they worked together, but I could see the look of shock when I waved to them both and they were like WTF, how do you know her.  I felt dirty.  They prob. think I am some kind of "friend whore," and that I friend everyone that walks by me, parks in my garage, rides the elevator with me or works at Roly Poly. 

Moral to the story:  You probably wish that you were as popular as I am, but trust me, there are downs.  Boy George was right when he said "Popularity breads contempt."

Addiction

It always starts out with just one...just one drink or for my friend Heather...just  a 1.5 liter: just one chip and then you have Lay's taunting you with "Betcha can't just have one!"  That is how it all started for me, just one, then two-next 5 and as of more recently, the number has raised to thirteen.  My addiction has cost me additional time in the mornings...nearly 30 more minutes before I can really start my day.

I am estimating that it took me nearly 2 years to get this far.  I tried to quit using Paul Mitchell's Shampoo and Conditioner about 3 months ago and picked up the Pantene-color protect at one of the ghetto Walgreen's downtown.  I have to admit to feeling a bit 2nd class, but once Pantene and I were home it would only be me and the shower that knew.  I lasted a month.  After getting one of my 5-week color and cuts, I saw it, Paul Mitchell's 2 for $28!  I was hooked, again.  I returned to using my Smoothing Gloss Drops, Super Skinny Relaxing Balm, The Cream, the UV Color Protectant and more recently Paul's newest line, awapuhi.  The awapuhi line has added another 6 products to my morning prep; but I feel whole again, even if I am technically an addict.

Happy Friday!

I am excited to report that I found one of my most favorite Romeo & Juliet Couture tees!.  I was debating on drowning my sorrows in a 1.5 liter of Yellow Tail Chardonnay in my closet at 7 am this morning, when I spotted it!  I have to admit that it kind of looks like something that Bret Michaels would wear, except it is made for a girl-I mean, smaller, well, never mind.  I posted a pic-forgive my messy hair, it took a 15 minute photo shoot with my BlackBerry in the stairwell to get anything remotely decent. Anyway, I picked up the tee and thought,"Damn it, it is Friday...I have my favorite tee, I am going to work!"  It seriously gets better...I trip on my ghetto Guess belt exiting my closet; the buckle is acutally a "G," covered in rhine stones, to boot!  I would have cast it aside, but I think of my older friend Renae and realize what nostalgia it will bring her to see a sign from her 80s era. Then the black cloud resurfaces in my silver lining-it has been hanging in the back ground for nearly a week, as it was.  The f-ing belt will no longer wrap around my "mommy" hips.  I hate Guess.

Counting Sheep

There comes a point of diminishing returns, for anything, really and for some reason children come to mind.  That may more likely apply to teenagers, although I do not know from experience, at least yet.   For me, though,  it is lying there pretending that I may eventually go back to sleep.

Morgan woke me up at 4am this morning for a slumber party in her room.  Waking up at 4am is nothing new.  I wake up frequently at 4am-I think that my girlfriend's baby A. sends vibes to wake me up so that Shannon has someone who understands what it is like to be ready for bed at 3pm.  Anyway, Morgan has very vivid dreams and apparently she had a dream that John Kerry and Nancy Pelosi had teamed up to fight Obama.  I personally think that Nancy Pelosi could kick Obama's ass, but of course, we all know that she would be more likely to kiss it.  I assured Morgan that the villains were keeping to their own and that the GOP are still in it to win it.  Satisfied, she closed her eyes and fell fast asleep. 

Me-not so.  At 5am I give in, get up,make coffee, turn over the laundry, fold the laundry and it is still only 5:30.  Oh, and I will inevitably be late for work @ 9am.

Deep thoughts...

I think that there are people or things that enter our lives for a specific reason and perhaps exit for the same. 

I believe in fate or destiny, but that the choices made to destiny are governed by free will.  We all have the choice as to what path in life we take and then the decision as to how we will deal with the fate or consequences-whether they be good or bad.  This is entirely too deep for 12pm on a Wednesday, but I have not had a glass of wine in over a week, which I compare to a diabetic not having insulin; so I could quite possibly be delusional.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am so happy that I have a BlackBerry Storm II.  It has allowed me to be constantly connected facebook, check my email for the latest 1/2 price gift cards, and adult content...all in the palm of my hand.  No pun intended.

The clouds are lifting...

The first song that I heard on my commute this morning, was pure evidence that the tide was changing!  The Talking heads were reaching out-they clearly understand what this week has been like for me!  Even better, Mad-girl says, "Mom!  what is this great song?"  I chuckled with delight and pride before responding, "Psycho Killer."

A 4 year-old with great taste in music-how could I be so lucky?!  Other mothers of toddlers are stuck with a singing, purple dinosaur with songs like, "Old McDonald had a Farm" or "I love you, you love me." Really??  Why should we teach our children that EVERYONE will love them-when clearly everyone will not?  Why set them up for disappointment?  Insanity. I am so much smarter for choosing music about the reality of life-the agitation and anxiety that, at times, she will deal with.  Plus, add in the fact that she will have to listen to people repeat themselves over and over; and it IS normal to want to kill them.  Oh, and part of it is in French, to boot. A lesson in life, a lesson in French, so much better than Dora and her clepto monkey teaching Spanish.

This is going to be a good day and just another reason that I should write a parenting book.

It always comes back to change...

I feel agitated and mildly depressed-a bit defeated.  The kind of agitation that made me think this morning, that a $500 deductible is nothing compared to the joy that I will receive after slamming into the back of a rolling road block, courtesy of a f*ing Yaris and Vespa.  Oh, and the depression and defeat...knowing that my little girl will not always be little and there is nothing that I can do to stop it...I feel like I am drowning.  

Being told Morgan was just beginning to "develop" at a recent doctor's appointment has really thrown me for a loop; and I mean sobbing, not eating, only sleeping--that kind of a loop.  I cannot even say the "P" word and I certainly do not want to hear it.  I am good at renaming things, though!   Look what I did to the word "vag*%a,"..."front-area" and what is cool is that it can double to cover "p%nis."  That sounds so much better.  We have only had one small issue in reference to the name change and that was during a Fox News coverage of Hurricane Katrina.  The reporter asked the camera man to pan over the entire "front-area" to show the Gulf waters pouring though the streets.  Morgan, 5 at that time, looks up appalled and yells out "MOM!  He is talking about the ocean's front-area and it just peed all over the city!" That was kind of awkward.  But, back to the "P" word.  I cannot rename it without making her feel as if it is taboo or that she should be ashamed or fearful.

Collin keeps telling me, that most of the "development" is a couple years away, maybe three.  That pisses me off even more, actually.  He should have kept his mouth shut and let it hit me all at once in 2 years!  I mean seriously, he LOVES chips.  Chips of any kind.  If I knew that in 2 years that the world would no longer be able to produce potatoes...I would never tell him; because I would want him to continue to enjoy every bag even though eventually one would be his last.  Okay, comparing her development to chips...just really put things into perspective.

I am excited that Morgan will be a young lady one day, I will enjoy her littleness now and then make her my BFF-DD.

Kitchen Fail.

I love, love to cook and I am really good, oh and modesty, one of my best traits.  I spend our vacations in Michigan cooking something new everyday; never a fail.  So, when my friend Renae tells me that she has the recipe for Macaroni Grill's Penne Rustica, I was all over it.  I invited my parents, my sister and her husband.  My dad told me that I am seriously the best cook EVER, who cares that he subsides on Lean Cuisines, and Stouffer's Lasagna; he still knows what a great cook is and I am so it.

I set out to the grocery store for the 50 ingredients that it calls for.  Okay, this is dish is going to be VERY labor intensive.  I started the cream sauce last night so that I would be a step ahead for today.  I needed to reduce the EIGHT cups of cream sauce to half.  I stepped away for FIVE minutes, yes, 5.  I reduced it by half, but I seriously doubt that the picture to the left is the method intended.  First Fail.

Second fail, my mother and preggers sister do not like shrimp.  I watched as my sister met the aroma of the shrimp and nearly threw up as she managed to get out, "Uh...uh...we-a, uh...will just visit for a bit."

Fail.  I do not want to blame Renae, but come on-it is kind of her fault.

Change

I have a real problem committing and a big problem letting go.  More so, I have a problem with change-let's hope Obama does, too; but that is not the change that I am referencing here.  Change of all sorts irk me, even if in the end it turns out to be better-the anxiety of the thought of getting there is crippling, at best.  It all starts with the decision to make a change and then it hits...my heart races, the heavy sighs come, next, the wave of nausea rushes over me, followed by the feeling as if I will faint.  I become terrified and I feel helpless, until it hits me-I can order the same f-ing thing everytime I go to Teller's; there is no NEED to switch it up; I know what I like.  Who cares that I only order the same thing every time. So, I take the Crab Cake over a hearts of palm salad, after all I have been ordering it for 7 years; my friend takes the Buffalo Chix Egg Rolls. 

I try the freaking chix-whatever-rolls, after her almost freakish-overly, persistent begging.

I only order Buffalo Chix Egg Rolls at Teller's.

Edward Cullen has nothing on me.

Or that tramp, Bella.  I sparkle!  All courtesy of  Clinique's up-lighting!  I step out into the light and voila!

I love make-up.  All make-up; and this discovery has really made me excited.  Just when I had been convinced that Clinique bonus bags were full of a rejected line or color; oh, and another flipping eyelash curler (BTW, I have like 4 if anyone needs one)-I have really seen the light.  Clinique cares.  I am going to buy a BIG bottle tonight.

I always use too many exclamation points.

Everything I do is in excess...and I kid you not, I can seriously get crazy with exclamation points-almost to the point that I am sure it is almost nauseating for the recipiant of the email.  I try to keep it under control.  Look at this email that I sent today-I had no idea that I did this until the client replied and I saw it again:

"Oh no, Vanessa!  I apologize!  I had no idea that I had the incorrect contact info!  I will be sure that it is corrected right away!

Thank you!"

Seriously?  WTF?

I bet she has never seen someone so excited to f* up.

They say "nothing exceeds like excess."  I am not sure that applies to punctuation.

Big Brother read my blog last night...

and requested that every radio station in Cincinnati play only songs that compound my depressive state, oh except for "The Stray Cat Strut."  Actually, that was probably a slam...the goverment must know about my cat getting knocked up by a stray black cat that resides in Madeira's only trailer park.  Either way, just another area in my life that the government wants to interfere with.

On another note, you were probably wondering about the status with my parking garage and if I had made any new friends.  Well, sit down.  Yes!  I did not write about it last night...last night was terrible, not that today is better, but I stepped out for a diet coke and saw my new friend. 

It is actually kind of wild how everything panned out.  Yesterday morning I was turning down the alley that dumps me across from my garage.  Well, this BMW is infront of me, turning into the alley, but then stops and goes into reverse.  I book it in reverse.  I let it go, but I think he is an idiot, he waves and I think "aww...well that is ok."  Now, fast foward to after work...I stop at the grocery and this BMW pulls up next to me.  A man that I recognize from my garage gets out.  I say, "oh you park at Bartlett--I did not know that you lived here!"  (Like, why would I???  I am so dumb.)  So...he says, "I know, I recognize your car and I am the guy who almost backed into you this morning and you were kind enough to back up so quickly."  Anyway, I know that he also owns a Jeep Cherokee, but I kept my mouth shut.  I do not want to lose my friend.

Jeopardy

The answer is sobbing.  The winner would be who ever responded, "What do you do when a glass of vino or a dose of xanax no longer pacifies the deep anxiety and pure emotional distress that you experience?"  So, I sobbed.  I am seriously so flipping smart that I did not even have to consult Alex Tribek.  Honestly, I doubt that he has to deal with anything more tramatic than which Audi or Mercedes that he should drive to Starbucks.  Although, truth be told, I would choose the Audi, but it depends on what Mercedes we are talking about...I could have a severe case of indecision. 

Sometimes...

I am not sure if I am coming or going.  I feel like I would have forgotten my ass had it not been attached.  I want to be 4 or 8 years old.  I want to cry when I want something, or like, when I decide to not wear dresses anymore or I hate everything that is pink: even though I insisted that I wanted to look like a walking Pepto Bismol-toddler, I want it to be accepted as reasonable.  I want simplicity.  I want to cry, just because I can.

Being dumped is the worst.

I have a lot of friends (I mean a lot and everywhere I go); I did have one work husband, until recently.  Anyway, I have friends in my parking garage, friends in the elevator, the doorman, all the people that I pass to and fro my office.  I have figured out where most of them work-sometimes I stop by and just wait in the lobby by the elevators to see if they are around.  Seriously, everywhere.  Many of them have actually never acknowledged that we are friends and I do not know any of their names (if I did we would be friends on facebook and then I would try to find out where they live).  I think that a lot of them may be mute because they never respond verbally to my cheery "Hello" and I do not want to walk up and say "Hi!  I'm Hazel!"; it could be very awkward and embarrassing for them.

Back to being dumped-it was my first ever parking garage friend.  The first day in my new garage I was assigned to the 3rd floor.  It is festival parking which is good for me, because I am very social.  Almost immediately I had set my eyes on a friend.  We drove the same car; I knew that I wanted to park by him, but it would take some work.  I tried to park by him everyday the first week, without success.  The problem is that a mini-van with a mobile library ( including but not limited to those stupid stickers where there is one of each member of the family and their pets) parked there everyday.  I have a mobile library, too, of sorts, but one is a quote from Reagan and the other says "Reagan for President", I love to see the faces of people enjoying them in traffic.  The 3rd is a sticker, "M 22" and only other sticker carrying-card members know what that is.  So, it only took me 4 days to figure out what time I needed to arrive so that I could truly bond with my friend.

My friend and I left the garage at the same time everyday.  I would smile at him and I found out exactly where he worked-I followed him.  I would wave at him anytime we passed one another on the street.  I ran into him at Roly Poly one day-he loves Roly Poly.

One morning I saw the he moved 6 spots away; but I could tell that he picked a place where we could remain close; after all, people move from house to house.  The next morning he moved us again-strange, but we are friends so I moved.  This happened the next 3 days in a row.  He dumped me without a word or a note.

I stopped waving and saying hello.  I moved to the 2nd floor the next day.  My spot kicks ass and he has to drive by my car everyday.  I take joy that he can see that I have moved on to a bigger and better parking spot.

Please let me know if anyone needs a parking friend-I am so available.

Saved

MJ

I am exhausted.  Morgalin just awakened prematurely from the dose of a cocktail of chardonnay and xanax that I so graciously granted her this evening to tell me that Michael Jackson came to her in a dream.  She had a dream.  MJ sang at her sister's (Mad-girl's) birthday party and told her to "not give up" on her dream to become a "pop-star."  I am way excited...I would love nothing more than to ride her coat-tails to success.  I would even wreck my  Mercedes and crash at the Beverly Hills Hotel before notifying the police that some dumb-ass tree ran into my bitch-of-a-ride.

My Narnia

I had the pleasure of watching Narnia with my daughters while on vacation, like 19 times. I have to say, it was a serious welcome change from the flipping Disney Princess Cult.  I would have made a better ending to all of that fantasy crap; Snow White would have been killed by Grumpy, Cinderella would have some how had a freak accident in the forest-like her leg was eaten by a wild boar, Ariel, oh FFS, Ariel would have been caught by a fisherman, and Jasmine-seriously?  She is just what I want my daughters to aspire to be; a selfish daughter who marries a thief.  Anyway, so after the 5th time watching Narnia, I thought "Damn-that would be awesome if I could go into my closet and poof! be in another land!"  Not Narnia as the movie depicts, but more like the Sonoma Valley, I would call it "Sovino."  Strangely enough, I actually celebrate my "time-outs" in my closet, generally with a glass of Yellow Tail chardonnay, to prevent a homicide; but I have been known to drink a bottle of Rabbit Ridge in the closet-that is from the Valley.  However, I have never looked beyond the clothing in my closet...and to my dismay, there was only drywall-I went through all of the closets.  Desperate I even wished that I would find Narnia-snow rocks when it is 95 degrees.