Tonight my hands smell like home. I'm not sure what exactly that means. Home to me now has a lot broader definition than it did before. It means everything else in my existence prior to moving to the island. Therefore pinning this aroma of nostalgia and comfort is rather impossible.
My date drove up to drop me off at our usual spot only to discover a Navigator limo occupying the entirety of the area on the side of the road. We drove around the block only to find it hadn't budged. So we made our way on Kalakaua, for a slight detour, only to find that we both had to go shi shi really bad. So we stopped off at the Kapahulu Zippy's to use the lavatory. A rather long detour, but once after taking care of business I immediately took notice of how my hands smelled after washing them. I am a fan of cleanliness but this soap smelled delightful and something about it seemed to hit a little closer to home. I am obsessed with the smell, to the point where I want to visit this Zippy's on a regular basis just for their bathrooms. Perhaps I should take note of the actual soap. I don't know how or why but it reminds me of my childhood...maybe my Grandma?...or home...or something in my Michigan past. And I can't stop sniffing my hands.
Awkward? No, just nostalgic....and sanitary.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
fatty mcfatty
So not only is Michigan the most unemployed and poorest (okay, this part may not be factual) state, but apparently we're also big fatties too. This I already knew as it was in the news several years ago, but that still doesn't make this acceptable.
a new meaning to the phrase "coming out of the closet"
As I've discussed here before, I have a third roommate who is essentially the bane of my existence (obviously excluding all male of the species). Most, if not all, of my reasons for being so annoyed are valid.
For discretionary purposes let's refer to crazy roommate as Mary Jane.
Mary Jane never leaves the apartment. I'm not saying she's a homebody. I'm a homebody. I mean she's a hermit. She leaves for 5 minutes to go to the store and it feels like there should be a national holiday dedicated to the glorious occasion. There is no reprieve! She never cleans. I still use Marya's bathroom, not out of laziness, but I'm not going to clean the bathroom by myself to have her nasty ass trash it. She's lived here for almost a year and either goes without tp or steals it out of the other bathroom. She's high 24-7. I am not against a little herb, but she is the epitome of a pothead. She eats all our food without replenishing. She talks while you're watching TV. She's unemployed, for reasons unknown to me, and does nothing but burn illegal DVDs and play video games. She lives in the closet, yet I still can't move into my half of the bedroom even though I'm paying more in rent. (She can't even pay her pittance on time.) She tries to accommodate me by leaving a fraction of the closet for hanging my clothes (and acted offended when I immediately didn't take her up on this offer), yet I can never get to these belongings without feeling awkward. Basically I can't use the bedroom period without feeling awkward, although I did finally make my bed last week out of desperation. I have yet to sleep in it. I've lived here for almost three months now.
My annoyance is heightened since I've began dating someone. His living situation does not allow for visitors, so we are left dealing with my situation. Living with two others, no matter the size of the apartment or sleeping arrangements, limits privacy to begin with. Sleeping on the couch doesn't fly when you're sharing it. This is essentially the reason I made my bed, but I still can't have "alone time" with somebody sleeping in the closet. Yes, she sleeps in the closet. When I say she lives there, I mean it. Her bed holds her laundry. There are times when I realize the closet door is closed and I haven't seen her for days. I've never smelled death, but I've wondered what I would do if I smelled something funky. (Probably make Marya search for the corpse.)
This is the biggest cockblock I have ever faced!
Today I looked forward to a day of relaxation. By 2pm I felt the immediate need to escape the apartment merely because of her. My mother always said I'm easily annoyed, but I know that's not the case here. Mary Jane was on the phone complaining, as usual. (She makes herself out to be a victim of her own drug-driven existence. One day she was on the verge of tears because she didn't have $2 for bus fare in order to obtain her food stamps. That was another day I had to flee the apartment in fear of her bumming money off me. It's not that I'm cheap. I just have no pity for her and I was honestly more afraid of hitting her than anything.) When I use the phone I am discrete. If I'm having a serious or private conversation, or perhaps one that might become more intense or involve yelling, I'll go onto the lanai. This is for my own privacy and consideration for those around me. She just strolls around the entire apartment without any concern for anyone else. Excuse me, but I don't need to hear about your inability to feed yourself, especially while I'm watching Scrubs. I'm not taking pity on you. I'm not going to give you food or money. We are not BFFs. You're making me want to punch you.
The conversation today began with complaining about her disability claim (she's clearly not disabled) but made it's way quickly to politics and the media. Mary Jane is 32. (Thus only making her lifestyle all the more reprehensible.) She's clearly been around long enough to have a respectable opinion about politics. She's technology savvy enough to understand how the media handles politics. And she acts as though she's extremely aware and competent about all this. Yet during her rant I hear her discuss how she actually tuned in to FOX News for their coverage of Obama's speech and was appalled at how anti-Obama they were. "They really were like ripping him apart." And yes, she says "like" at least a dozen times a minute as if she's the lead cheerleader from your local high school.
Honey, where has your ignorant ass been when you claim to follow the media's coverage of politics? FOX has a conservative bias just as MSNBC has a liberal one. Everyone knows this. Why are you acting appalled?
She then went on to say, "And that Hannity Colmes guy is a fucking moron." No sweet tits, you're a fucking moron. His name isn't Hannity Colmes, just Sean Hannity. Colmes was the name of his former liberal counterpart. But yes, Hannity is a fucking moron. You two should have a lot in common. Perhaps this is a more forgivable mistake, but by that point I was so aggravated that I knew I had to leave. Before I left I heard the conversation venture into religion, another supposedly taboo subject. I left sans makeup in order to go down to Deeps and drink. I had no intention of drinking today, but Mary Jane began what became a day that makes getting drunk necessary.
That's it for now. I am off to finish my bottle of wine.
For discretionary purposes let's refer to crazy roommate as Mary Jane.
Mary Jane never leaves the apartment. I'm not saying she's a homebody. I'm a homebody. I mean she's a hermit. She leaves for 5 minutes to go to the store and it feels like there should be a national holiday dedicated to the glorious occasion. There is no reprieve! She never cleans. I still use Marya's bathroom, not out of laziness, but I'm not going to clean the bathroom by myself to have her nasty ass trash it. She's lived here for almost a year and either goes without tp or steals it out of the other bathroom. She's high 24-7. I am not against a little herb, but she is the epitome of a pothead. She eats all our food without replenishing. She talks while you're watching TV. She's unemployed, for reasons unknown to me, and does nothing but burn illegal DVDs and play video games. She lives in the closet, yet I still can't move into my half of the bedroom even though I'm paying more in rent. (She can't even pay her pittance on time.) She tries to accommodate me by leaving a fraction of the closet for hanging my clothes (and acted offended when I immediately didn't take her up on this offer), yet I can never get to these belongings without feeling awkward. Basically I can't use the bedroom period without feeling awkward, although I did finally make my bed last week out of desperation. I have yet to sleep in it. I've lived here for almost three months now.
My annoyance is heightened since I've began dating someone. His living situation does not allow for visitors, so we are left dealing with my situation. Living with two others, no matter the size of the apartment or sleeping arrangements, limits privacy to begin with. Sleeping on the couch doesn't fly when you're sharing it. This is essentially the reason I made my bed, but I still can't have "alone time" with somebody sleeping in the closet. Yes, she sleeps in the closet. When I say she lives there, I mean it. Her bed holds her laundry. There are times when I realize the closet door is closed and I haven't seen her for days. I've never smelled death, but I've wondered what I would do if I smelled something funky. (Probably make Marya search for the corpse.)
This is the biggest cockblock I have ever faced!
Today I looked forward to a day of relaxation. By 2pm I felt the immediate need to escape the apartment merely because of her. My mother always said I'm easily annoyed, but I know that's not the case here. Mary Jane was on the phone complaining, as usual. (She makes herself out to be a victim of her own drug-driven existence. One day she was on the verge of tears because she didn't have $2 for bus fare in order to obtain her food stamps. That was another day I had to flee the apartment in fear of her bumming money off me. It's not that I'm cheap. I just have no pity for her and I was honestly more afraid of hitting her than anything.) When I use the phone I am discrete. If I'm having a serious or private conversation, or perhaps one that might become more intense or involve yelling, I'll go onto the lanai. This is for my own privacy and consideration for those around me. She just strolls around the entire apartment without any concern for anyone else. Excuse me, but I don't need to hear about your inability to feed yourself, especially while I'm watching Scrubs. I'm not taking pity on you. I'm not going to give you food or money. We are not BFFs. You're making me want to punch you.
The conversation today began with complaining about her disability claim (she's clearly not disabled) but made it's way quickly to politics and the media. Mary Jane is 32. (Thus only making her lifestyle all the more reprehensible.) She's clearly been around long enough to have a respectable opinion about politics. She's technology savvy enough to understand how the media handles politics. And she acts as though she's extremely aware and competent about all this. Yet during her rant I hear her discuss how she actually tuned in to FOX News for their coverage of Obama's speech and was appalled at how anti-Obama they were. "They really were like ripping him apart." And yes, she says "like" at least a dozen times a minute as if she's the lead cheerleader from your local high school.
Honey, where has your ignorant ass been when you claim to follow the media's coverage of politics? FOX has a conservative bias just as MSNBC has a liberal one. Everyone knows this. Why are you acting appalled?
She then went on to say, "And that Hannity Colmes guy is a fucking moron." No sweet tits, you're a fucking moron. His name isn't Hannity Colmes, just Sean Hannity. Colmes was the name of his former liberal counterpart. But yes, Hannity is a fucking moron. You two should have a lot in common. Perhaps this is a more forgivable mistake, but by that point I was so aggravated that I knew I had to leave. Before I left I heard the conversation venture into religion, another supposedly taboo subject. I left sans makeup in order to go down to Deeps and drink. I had no intention of drinking today, but Mary Jane began what became a day that makes getting drunk necessary.
That's it for now. I am off to finish my bottle of wine.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
i would totally give adam brody and jon stewart my number...
Just another reason why Jon Stewart is a genius. You know, aside from him making Jim Cramer (and CSNBC?) look like a complete douchebag last week. Maybe I'm just a simple minded pervert, but this is comedy to me. Yet it's comedy that serves a purpose (other than making us laugh). I'm not implying I defer to TDS for all my news coverage. It's not meant to do that. It is good to keep a sense of humor about oneself when determining what the fuck our country has gotten itself into these last couple years though. And teabagging is definitely on my top ten list of funny things. Top five to be more exact.
Just watch his facial expressions and comedic timing. And the wit! Priceless.
Oh yeah, and I have a thing for Jewish boys anyways (Adam Brody, can you hear me?), but Jon Stewart is hot. I would definitely hit it. Haha.
Just watch his facial expressions and comedic timing. And the wit! Priceless.
Oh yeah, and I have a thing for Jewish boys anyways (Adam Brody, can you hear me?), but Jon Stewart is hot. I would definitely hit it. Haha.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
éirinn go brách
A very Happy St. Patrick's Day to all of you Irish and non-Irish folks out there. Oddly enough, this is my third St. Patty's Day in Hawaii. Perhaps it won't rain at the block party this year. That would be lovely.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
much needed vacation!
Spontaneity has made a glorious entrance back into my life. Maybe that's the reason for my funk of late? Life just got a little too predictable perhaps? Well, not anymore. I'm going to Vegas.
Andy boy and I were texting. I've been trying to get him to come out and visit. In fact, back when I moved out to Hawaii we had planned on him coming out in January (which obviously didn't happen). Supposedly we were gonna spend a week on Maui (see the whales) and a week on Oahu. So we were arguing back and forth, me nagging him to visit and him telling me to come home and visit, when he casually suggested I meet him out in Vegas. This was two days ago. I entertained the thought for a day. I requested the days off yesterday. And I booked the flight today. Huzzah!
I've never been. I haven't seen Andy in over a year, which is a first. And if there was ever the perfect tour guide for Vegas, it would be him.
Andy boy and I were texting. I've been trying to get him to come out and visit. In fact, back when I moved out to Hawaii we had planned on him coming out in January (which obviously didn't happen). Supposedly we were gonna spend a week on Maui (see the whales) and a week on Oahu. So we were arguing back and forth, me nagging him to visit and him telling me to come home and visit, when he casually suggested I meet him out in Vegas. This was two days ago. I entertained the thought for a day. I requested the days off yesterday. And I booked the flight today. Huzzah!
I've never been. I haven't seen Andy in over a year, which is a first. And if there was ever the perfect tour guide for Vegas, it would be him.
Friday, March 6, 2009
we've got the funk, or rather i do...
funk /fʌŋk/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [fuhngk]
–noun
2. a dejected mood: He's been in a funk ever since she walked out on him.
Yep, that is most definitely what is going on with me this week. I am in a funk. If I were actually on meds for depression like I should be, I would have to consider having my dosage upped. But alas, I am not medicated. Instead I get to battle the constant nagging belief that my life (read: me) is pathetic and inferior and worthless. I never understand what brings these bouts on. Normally I am happy-go-lucky and love my life. Maybe I have Seasonal Anxiety Disorder because of the crappy weather? Maybe the neurosis brought on by dating someone has culminated into full on funkiness? Maybe I'm just stressed out and homesick?
In any case, this funk has affected my desire to write. I want to blog. The ability is still there and I have much to blog about. I have been inundated by the same persistent thoughts night after night. The only problem is I don't want to verbalize them. Maybe capturing them in blog form would make them real. Maybe I don't want to deal with them yet. Maybe I don't want them out there for others to see. Not sure.
Every time I'm in a funk I get introspective. And it becomes all-consuming. Sometimes I feel like my life has already been written. It's a 27 year old dusty novel on a bookshelf somewhere, except I've become misguided and unintentionally rewritten it, thinking I know better. That's the only explanation for feeling as though nothing has gone according to plan. Teaching was never in the cards. Neither was Hawaii. Me being bitter and alone? Never. Why would that ever have been my fate considering how capable of loving I am? I was never supposed to be stuck in a career with little future in a dying economy given my intellect and love of learning. Clearly something went wrong. And now I am left trying to tie up this chapter so that I can somehow transition myself into the next authentic one.
It's been so long since I've been in a relationship, and I use that term loosely. I have no idea of the exact parameters of whatever it is that I'm in right now, mainly because I'm just not that girl. I'm not going to pass a note that says check yes or no if you're my boyfriend. If you're both equipped with enough common sense, the "discussion" is usually deemed unnecessary. Yet I've found myself in this new relationship-ish deal after being single for quite a long time. I realize the singleness was more intentional than I thought. Now I'm reminded of all the excitement of being in something fresh and new and unknown. However, I'm also suddenly brought back to the annoyance of what I escaped a couple years ago. Turns out I was more scarred from that asshole than I thought.
–noun
2. a dejected mood: He's been in a funk ever since she walked out on him.
Yep, that is most definitely what is going on with me this week. I am in a funk. If I were actually on meds for depression like I should be, I would have to consider having my dosage upped. But alas, I am not medicated. Instead I get to battle the constant nagging belief that my life (read: me) is pathetic and inferior and worthless. I never understand what brings these bouts on. Normally I am happy-go-lucky and love my life. Maybe I have Seasonal Anxiety Disorder because of the crappy weather? Maybe the neurosis brought on by dating someone has culminated into full on funkiness? Maybe I'm just stressed out and homesick?
In any case, this funk has affected my desire to write. I want to blog. The ability is still there and I have much to blog about. I have been inundated by the same persistent thoughts night after night. The only problem is I don't want to verbalize them. Maybe capturing them in blog form would make them real. Maybe I don't want to deal with them yet. Maybe I don't want them out there for others to see. Not sure.
Every time I'm in a funk I get introspective. And it becomes all-consuming. Sometimes I feel like my life has already been written. It's a 27 year old dusty novel on a bookshelf somewhere, except I've become misguided and unintentionally rewritten it, thinking I know better. That's the only explanation for feeling as though nothing has gone according to plan. Teaching was never in the cards. Neither was Hawaii. Me being bitter and alone? Never. Why would that ever have been my fate considering how capable of loving I am? I was never supposed to be stuck in a career with little future in a dying economy given my intellect and love of learning. Clearly something went wrong. And now I am left trying to tie up this chapter so that I can somehow transition myself into the next authentic one.
It's been so long since I've been in a relationship, and I use that term loosely. I have no idea of the exact parameters of whatever it is that I'm in right now, mainly because I'm just not that girl. I'm not going to pass a note that says check yes or no if you're my boyfriend. If you're both equipped with enough common sense, the "discussion" is usually deemed unnecessary. Yet I've found myself in this new relationship-ish deal after being single for quite a long time. I realize the singleness was more intentional than I thought. Now I'm reminded of all the excitement of being in something fresh and new and unknown. However, I'm also suddenly brought back to the annoyance of what I escaped a couple years ago. Turns out I was more scarred from that asshole than I thought.
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