popeye.

olive oyl.

mr. d.

popeye and olive oyl.

the big pezbowski- best gift ever!!

milestones

i've reached a point in my culinary skills where i no longer judge a meal on the severity of my stomach ache afterwards.

i've learned how to successfully straighten my own hair. to think that all i needed was the $25 hair iron instead of the $7 hair iron. the results, if i may be so modest, are absolutely stunning. it's a shame i've burned three fingers and half a sandwich during this learning process, but why i was eating a sandwich and straightening my hair at the same time is really none of your business anyway.

i don't get lonely as much as i used to, despite my steadily dwindling social life. it's not that i don't have friends- i just don't have friends that i ever see. but i've come to terms with all of this, mostly by taking on more work than i can handle and also learning to mix my own drinks.

i realize that writing about how i'm not lonely is a good way to make me feel lonely. i must hold on to the fact that chris will be home soon, and then we can be lonely together.

i've decided that my parents weren't that bad after all, and that the time when i would "understand later" has finally arrived. of course, that's somewhat easy to say when they're an hour away and i only see them once a month.

i know that, for the most part, i will always have to stick to being funny, because the second that i stop, everyone will lose interest. i'm just grateful i don't have to stick to being something else, like an expert on cars or health insurance claims.

i don't get as sweaty as i used to. now, when i'm nervous, it's just a lukewarm heat that washes over me, instead of that old familiar tidal wave. i remember days preparing for a date when i'd have to change shirts three times before leaving. what a moodkiller that was.

i think i still hate most other women, but i like to think that's their problem, and not mine.

i've reached the point where i feel like i have enough shoes, finally. i have enough turtlenecks, an ample supply of blue jeans, and, for the first time in my life, i have just the right amounts of novelty socks and hooded sweatshirts. it's almost like i'm ready to die, now that my closet has reached critical mass.

i truly am happy that i ended up with the job i have, which is surprising. it's one of the last things i could have ever imagined myself doing, aside from being a world-reknowned chef- but at least i can judge my job at the bank on something other than the severity of a stomach ache. which is refreshing.

i love promotions, and it's the marketing major in me that gets a kick out of ricola's "find the mystery cougher" promo. how exciting! whoever came up with this schtick should win a prize of some sort. if only i still worked at that trophy-making factory.

went to charlie beinlich's last night with my friend lauren. their website is the perfect representation as to who they are: a simple joint for burgers and beer. i first found out about this place from check, please!, that local show where everyday assholes get to throw in their two cents about various chicago restaurants. two of my dreams are related to check, please! the first dream is to visit all of the highly rated places reviewed on the show; the second dream is to appear on the show and review one of my own favorite places.

like every other dream i have, including winning the gold medal for figure skating in the next winter olympics, i'm going to have a hard time seeing these two to fruition. first of all, my budget does not allow wining and dining at chicago's best. it barely allows beering and jeering at chicago's worst. second of all, the idea of being on tv, even on local pbs, is one part attractive, four parts nightmarish. sure, i can daydream about all of the witty banter that would spew from my lips as i discuss how the waiter at such and such crabhouse spilled clam chowder all over my lap, thereby setting off a chain reaction involving four dogs and a fisherman chasing me up and down a string of alleys. sure. but, what would probably, actually happen is that i would absolutely freeze up on-screen and forget how to speak english. even with a viewership of about seven, my vocabulary would dwindle to grunts and coughs; i would also probably sweat puddles through my shirt, thereby precluding any invitations to come back on the show for a special "girls we simply loved" segment. they wouldn't even want me for the "girls we barely tolerated" segment. oh, what a travesty.

but enough about that. charlie beinlich's was.... good. i like meat. and beer. and cheese. yum.

so eloquent!

1. i've been sick. i've been taking my fair share of otc drugs, but it's three days later, and i still feel sick. i'm back at work today, but i can't help but think that i need another day or two at home on the couch in order to bring myself back up to 100%. calling out of work reminds me of calling out of school; only when i called out of school, i was rarely actually sick. lucky for me, i had a mother who mostly didn't give a damn. one morning, when the toilet overflowed during the flushing process, i told her that the sight of toilet water on the floor had rendered me "too upset" to concentrate on classes. that was a nice, lazy day at home away from school; too bad i had to walk to the drug store to use their toilet every couple of hours.

2. chris' popeye costume is coming along nicely- a little too nicely. i am afraid that his "popeye" will overshadow my "olive oyl." didn't he know that this night was supposed to be about me? i wonder if it's too late to convince him to be "wimpy."

3. i'm participating, once again, in national novel writing month. last year, my results were nothing to write home about- although, maybe if i had written home about them, my word count would have been bolstered. i've convinced one of my co-workers to participate; now, since i'm fearing he's actually going to end up meeting the 50,000 word deadline, i'm thinking maybe i should have kept my mouth shut. i certainly don't need *another* person making me look bad.

4. the white sox have won the first three games in the world series; i wish i could get into it a little more and maybe exhibit a little excitement. my problem is that i'm in the northwest suburbs now; everyone i've talked to about the sox have been strangely, bitterly silent on the matter.

tonight, we're going to see our favorite comedian- mr. brian regan. ladies and gentlemen, he is absolutely fabulous, and he's probably the only human on the planet worthy of $44 per ticket. tonight we will laugh heavily. tomorrow, probably not so much, as tomorrow is going to be riddled with chores, since the upcoming week is riddled with work and obligations. i can't wait until i only have one job, like a normal human being. until then, my blood pressure will remain through the roof as i sprial madly towards an early grave.

last night, i decided to try and knit myself a scarf. now, i do know how to knit, but i've never actually finished any knitting projects, as i am mostly incapable of seeing things through to their finish. my life is littered with the seeds of things that could have become majestic, metaphoric trees, but were, instead, tangled weeds coated in dog poop. i was surprised by how i actually remembered how to stitch, and before the night was over, i had not only the start of a beautiful scarf, but also a good deal of hope. hope. it was a religious awakening.

thinking ahead, i thought maybe i could make chris a scarf once i was done with mine. however, i don't quite see chris as the "scarf" kind of guy. so, instead, i will surf the web for one of the following projects:

knit beer cozy (12 ounce bottle)
knit beer cozy (16 ounce bottle)
knit beer cozy (12 ounce can)

i was interested in ordering some eyeglasses off the internet, as i refuse to pay the exorbitant prices of lenscrafters and various other retail opticals. i mean, christ, i'm not a sap. so i find the site eyeglass.com, and, the prices can't be beat, at least as far as the lenses are concerned. concerning the frames, it takes a little imagination to know exactly how they will look on me, but i do have quite a wild imagination, as my myriad group of invisible boyfriends will be happy to tell you.

chris, i'm just kidding about the invisible boyfriends. lighten up!

anyhow, there is one measurement that the company needs, and that's the distance between your pupils, so they can center the lenses properly. this measurement is extremely simply to take with a small machine (pupilometer) that looks like a compact pair of binoculars. the optician looks in one side of the pupilometer, the patient on the other, and, bam, the measurement is taken and the correct number is spit out on the digital display. of course, the average consumer does not own a pupilometer, or live with a licensed optician, and so THIS is how they tell you to take the measurement yourself:

and while it is, admittedly, pure genius, i can't help but think: what a bunch of jackasses. and it's a good thing i already know my pd, because with all the caffeine raging through my system, i could never perform this feat without getting marker all over the fucking place.

this article pisses me right the fuck off. i am a firm believer that nobody over the age of 75 should have a drivers' license. especially those suffering from dementia.

"He may have somewhere in his mind have realized it was a crash, but immediately forgot about it," Jockers said.

what's up with that? how could you have a body through your windshield and not notice? aren't you supposed to be looking through your windshield anyways?

i dislike the elderly.

healthy as a horse. i have to go back in a month so the doc can monitor everything, but she thinks the lump just has "fluid" in it. whatever that means. i wanted to ask, "what kind of fluid?" but i felt that maybe i didn't want to know. so, phew. glad i didn't blow anything out of proportion.

the doctor's office was so neat and orderly; i think of how the optical is, and i want to know why it's such a madhouse in comparison. i have speculated on that before, but, to avoid a lawsuit of some kind, i think i'll just keep my mouth shut.

i still have four vacation days for this year. i wish i had money to take a short trip somewhere, but i'm what you might call "strapped." oh, the places i could go if i had the bank account to support it. instead, i will settle for a few lazy days of scrabble and some time to finish designing that video game i was working on.

under my boob

well, i always thought lung cancer would be my undoing, but now i've found a suspicious lump in my breast, and let me tell you, i am freaking out. i'm sure it's nothing. of course, that's what meredith baxter said in lifetime's movie "my breast," but, as it's been said before, i'm no meredith baxter. anyhow, it's all i can think about. i'm going to the doctor tomorrow morning, and i really wish i had a normal mother, as this would be the time for me to call her. instead, i will not call her, because this kind of thing, as insignificant as it may turn out to be, will send her into a tailspin, and she will have planned my funeral before anybody can even say the word "biopsy." or "mastectomy." i can't even imagine having a mastectomy; fortunately for me, the removal of a breast would just barely alter my appearance.

anyhow, i know i'm thinking too far ahead, but it was really scary to find this hard little lump. the strange thing is, i found it on accident while watching tv and randomly feeling my boob, which is something that i rarely do. i can't even remember why i was feeling my boob; it's like those rare occasions when i find myself cupping my own ass for no apparent reason. an internet search revealed that most of these lumps are either nothing or easily taken care, but it's still chilling to read that one must immediately consult a physician because breast cancer, that sly disease, is known as the "silent killer," and such findings are not to be ignored. i don't like reading the words "immediately consult your physician." you only find those words on occasions when you accidently swallow a bottle of rat poisoning or when, say, an organ suddenly implodes. and now, all of my thoughts are infused with images of boobs. for instance, i just now referred to myself as "the breast banker in town," and i just emailed the tech support guy about a "cystem" error.

oh, how i slay me.

things i would rather do today:

1. drink a tall mixture of sour milk and warm grape juice
2. watch twelve hours of "the golden girls" with my eyes taped open
3. spend all morning and afternoon in rush hour
4. scrub the toilets of my neighbors with my face
5. lick five random feet
6. calculus
7. have a series of root canals
8. take in a family of rabid squirrels as my new, personal pets.

we just found out last night that the wife of one of our friends is pregnant. pregnant! first, it was weird for me to know all of these people in my age and social bracket getting married (my own engagement notwithstanding), and now, they're starting to spit out babies. i never cease to be amazed by all of the grown-up things going on around me.

another friend, lore, who is close to forty, just enrolled her kid in preschool. "i felt like such a grown-up picking him up from school," she told me, and i realized that, even people fifteen years my senior go through this. will i ever be at the age when something feels appropriate? will i be in my sixties, marveling at the price of a "senior coffee" at mcdonalds, telling my half deaf cronies that i'm amazed at being able to qualify for such a great discount? will a step in life, taken by either myself or one of my friends, ever feel just right- not too grown up yet not too immature?

i am a twenty-five year old woman living with my fiancee, planning a wedding, and considering taking on a mortgage in the not too distant future. i have a good, grown-up job, and i am entirely self sufficient. except for the things that chris does for me, such as hanging pictures (i can't find studs [not even when i was single]), moving heavy furniture, and solving the occasional video game. i'd rather drink wine instead of shots, i have the responsibilities of two jobs, i go to bed at a reasonable hour, and i consider high school girls completely unintimidating and worthy of pity. it's amazing how life changes, and we change along with it. however, despite everything that might suggest i'm grown-up, i still don't feel like a grown-up. i just feel a little freaked out. and i think the first person that refers to me as "mrs." will have to taste my fist. if i'm ever called "m'am," i will throw up. and when i find myself with a child who calls me "mommy," i'm going to feel like a total imposter, a fool dressed up for halloween at a party that i got dragged into going to at the very last minute.

anyhow, our friends will be very good parents, and i know that they're ready for it. not like when i gave birth to that kid in the bathroom of my junior high and then had to give him to my geometry teacher to raise as her own in exchange for a passing grade. no, i wasn't ready for any of that at all.

as a woman who is oftentimes irritated by other women, finding the site menarebetterthanwomen.com was a sort of validation for me. i find dick masterson's observations insightful, honest, and without bias, and one day i hope to meet him so i can congratulate him on his courage to express a conviction that most of us believe but are too politically correct to state.

i would like to meet dick so i can shake his hand. if i ever do meet dick masterson, i will make him drive me around the los angeles/ pasadena area and show me all of the "back to the future" filming sites. yes, that is exactly what i would want to do.

visit that site!

i transferred opticals. the drive to the south side every week was wreaking havoc on my pocket book, so i switched a store just a tad bit closer to home. realistically, i traded an hour drive for a forty minute drive, so it wasn't the most economical decision i could have made, but most of my decisions are like that- poorly thought out with only minimal benefit. anyhow, i might as well have switched countries; the new store i'm working at is in a town with a heavy hispanic population, and, last sunday, i only had one customer who spoke close to fluent english. if i had paid attention in my three years of spanish class, instead of simply amusing myself by adding -acciones to all of my classmates names (heatheracciones, thomasacciones, walteracciones), maybe working at this new store wouldn't be such a linguistic trial. instead, it's an absolute nightmare.

i've been contemplating my new challenge, trying to figure out how to make the best of a poor situation. the way i see it, i have two choices.

1. learn spanish.
2. teach everyone in the community english.

both of these present logistical problems. first of all, i simply don't have the time to learn a new language. not to mention that the money i would spend on classes, computer programs, or learn-spanish-while-driving-around-in-your-car-like-some-kind-of-weirdo cds would stress out the old wallet even more so than the twenty minutes of extra gasoline and tolls it would take to switch back to the south side store. plus, i'm simply not interested in learning spanish. christ, i'm still trying to get a handle on the english language.

as far as teaching everyone in the community english- well, that, of course, opens another can of worms. where would i conduct these classes? how would i get the word out that every spanish speaking resident in a five mile radius would have to attend my classes? then, once i did assemble my classes, how the hell would i go about teaching english? i fear that all of my students would walk away knowing only a few things:

1. how to insert the word "like" into, like, every sentence.
2. how to effectively string together six different curse words and a variety of gestures when the guy at mcdonalds puts *extra* canadian bacon on your egg mcmuffin, as opposed to the *no* canadian bacon that you had originally requested.
3. the phrase, "okay, which one of you fuckers hid my chalk?"

as you can see, i'm between iraq and a hard place. so, i've come up with a compromise. i will learn a few choice spanish phrases and pray that my customers learn a few choice english phrases. here are the phrases i will learn in spanish:

1. how will you be paying for this?
2. does it hurt when i poke you in this eyes like this? (jabbing motion)
3. yes, those frames are just lovely, but i think these more expensive ones are even lovelier.
4. this incredibly bright light will only blind you for a few minutes. stop moving.
5. i simply don't have time for this.
6. if i were you, i'd buy more of everything.
7. i'm sorry that you can't see. have you tried not complaining so much?

here are the phrases my customers shall learn.

1. jackie, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.
2. of course i'm willing to buy more.
3. no, everything's fine. i'll be leaving now.
4. hey, that bright light wasn't so bad after all.
5. here's twenty dollars for your time. buy yourself a steak.

i am so tired of hearing about bird flu and heating costs. sure, maybe, we're heading towards a global pandemic likely to kill everyone in its path, and, okay, i know my heating bill is going to be 345% more than last year, but, jesus, let's just give it all a rest already.

we had some people over last night for poker. a total sausage fest, except for andy's girlfriend who played two hands and then promptly threw a fit and went to go watch tv, i ended up with all of the chips at the end of the night, winner of a whole... thirty-five dollars. i think with the winning streak i've been on lately, we should really start playing for more than five bucks a piece. i have bills to pay, after all.

this morning, i woke up sick to my stomach. chris and i left the house briefly to purchase some used video games, but i spent the rest of the day on the sofa, alternating between sleep and trying to finish a widow for one year. i've been reading this book for something like two weeks now, but, hot damn, it's got me all excited about life again. this is despite the fact that something in my stomach's got me all excited about pooping.

was that inappropriate?

for dinner tonight, chris made mashed potatoes. i can't remember the last time i had homemade mashed potatoes, and i certainly can't remember the last time i had any as delicious. that chris; he sure does know his way around a potato. too bad he broke our only masher in the process.

now this- this is a thrilling blog entry. i'll be back tomorrow with a list of all the various otc drugs i've consumed and an overly detailed explanation of why i like certain brands of ketchup.

the best thing about working at a bank is having off columbus day. the second best thing about working at a bank is having off mlk jr day. the third best thing would be veteran's day, followed by labor day (fourth) and memorial day (fifth). last year, i had to work on casimir pulaski day; this year, i'll be lobbying to have it off.

first thing this morning, i went to the grocery store. i love looking at what other people purchase; you can learn a lot about a person by the contents of their cart. you can tell if they're married or single, with or without children, about to throw a party, or only two to three weeks away from purposefully driving their car off a bridge. you can tell if they're happy or sad or in need of a laxative. i know that, for the most part, my shopping choices tell the world that i have no idea what i'm doing, that i have no concept of reality. that's how i can spend a hundred dollars on groceries and then not have a thing to eat aside from condiments and garlic cloves.

i wanted to try a recipe tonight, and so i bought everything that i thought i would need. come home to find out i forgot about six things. looking further at the recipe, i see that this particular meal would require managing four pans of "stuff" all at once, which i think is beyond my scope. am i ever glad that i had the foresight to buy hot dogs.

i also bought one avocado, for myself, for lunch. the thing is, i have no idea how to correctly cut and eat an avocado. so, i googled it, and i came across a website with several sets of instructions. one way to eat an avocado:

The Natural Way -- Using your claws (fingernails), peel off the skin. The skin of a naturally ripened avocado will easily spiral off in one to three pieces. Try this: slide a whole nude avocado through your lips and eat it slowly. There is no more sensual eating experience!

whoa, nelly! no wonder avocadoes aren't a staple in the catholic community.

drink more to smoke less.

i thought this was mildly interesting.

i'm going to a surprise party for my coworker salty tonight. it's a miracle that i didn't give the surprise away at work these past few weeks; i can't keep a secret to save my life. in the course of my 25 years, i've had two surprise parties thrown for me; both surprises were ruined by well-intentioned, but asshole-ish friends. i am also well-intentioned but asshole-ish; thus, it was a wonder that i kept my mouth shut.

for both of my surprise parties, i had to bear the incredible chore of acting surprised. as a small group of thespians from my senior year can attest, i am not very good at acting. for the first party, i practiced feigning surprise in front of a mirror. this facial expression vaguely resembled what one might look like while simultaneously choking on a hunk of cheese and getting caught in the rain. for the second party, i ignored the mirror and figured i'd just wing it. "wow," i said to all of my friends as i showed up at the bar, "how nice. hey, shouldn't there be more people here?"

i'm trying to think of times i've been genuinely surprised. even when chris proposed, it didn't exactly come out of left field. now, if he had broken up with me, made me pack all of my bags and move back to my parents, and then shown up on the doorstep with a ring and, oh, let's say a pony, then i would have experienced a real shock. and chris, he would have experienced a real punch in the nose. it's such a bitch to pack.

i have been surprised before, though- at birthday plans, at random acts of kindness, when the pregnancy test came back negative, the realization that there was a quaalude in my cocktail- and it's nice. i do wish i could be surprised more often, though. here's a list of things that people can do to surprise me.

pay for my wedding
take me on an alaskan cruise
build me a time machine
tell me that, this whole time, i've been an ambassador to sweden
put breast implants in me while i sleep (and leave behind a new supply of bras)

any of those things should be fine. thanks.

as of this moment, i have two halloween costume ideas. the first idea would involve a lot of make up, a huge blond wig, and a one inch penis.

the second idea is a lot more feasible, for several reasons. one, i already have the black skirt. two, i can very easily have the hair-do. three, i share the same body type as this character, and, last but not least, this costume would not require me to grow a penis.

i'm working on getting chris to be popeye. i'm sure he has a sailor costume lying around somewhere (what straight man in his late twenties doesn't?), and a can of spinach should be readily available at my nearest ralph's.

last year, we were vikings. this was clearly not my choice, but when i saw chris' hairy legs sticking out of the obscenely short viking "skirt," the whole endeavor was worth while. i kept hoping a ball would pop out at some point during the party, but alas, there was no such show.

well, chris' aunt passed away on monday, and the thoughts running through my head have been terribly inappropriate. one of the prevalent thoughts centers around the state lottery; what if a family member struck it big right now? obviously, that would be a jubilant moment (especially for those of us in the can't-afford-a-new-toothbrush class), but how would an individual juggle those two feelings? what if the date of the funeral coincided with the date of when the lottery people were supposed to hand over the big check? i don't even know what got me thinking of the lottery, of all things, except for maybe the fact that cancer can kind of be like playing the lottery, but with even worse odds. also, i keep thinking of other people i'd rather see dead, of thousand year old women sustaining on crackers and daily episodes of wheel-of-fortune.

there are a couple of demands that i shall make for my time of death. first of all, i don't want a "collage of death" at my wake- all the pictures of me at all stages of my life tacked up on a posterboard near the casket. first of all, there are only a handful of pictures of me in existence, so it would make for one rather pathetic collage, and, second of all, those things seem to solely exist for making people cry even harder. in lieu of the collage of death, i would like somebody to instead set up a television set and play "the big lebowski" on continuous loop. furthermore, i don't want an open casket. i can't stand people looking at me now; why should my death be any different? i will obviously be cremated, but my ashes can be scattered anywhere, as long as it's somewhere that i once enjoyed a laugh, a kiss, a sandwich. i want my eulogy to be the funniest thing anybody has ever heard, and, most importantly, i want everyone i love to know that i'm okay. and that if i get to wander this world as a ghost, i promise not to spy on anyone while they're in the shower or cheating on their taxes.

oh, lord. i'm not very religious, but i am religious just enough to understand why people need faith and god and prayer. it's always in times of need and sadness that people turn to religion; god is like a set of parents that you don't call until something goes horribly wrong, and you desperately need some advice and a hug- or bail money, depending on how badly your shit's been messed.

saturday was one of the laziest days of my entire life. after work, i think i watched a solid ten hours of tv, reading john irving's a widow for one year during commercial breaks. that man is definitely one of my favorite authors; the world according to garp practically changed my life, and a prayer for owen meany also deeply affected me, in such a way that SOMETIMES I LIKE TO SPEAK IN ALL CAPS. it's been a nice change of pace from my normal reading material as of late, the kind of books where some brave, attractive, and charmingly witty woman in her late twenties to early thirties is struggling to find a suitable man with a suitable bank account. that's the last time i take book recommendations from a hair-dresser.

yesterday, i went to see my dad and then immediately left after my mother came home. one day, she won't get under my skin as much, but for right now, i just can't take more than five minutes of her. this guy knows what i'm talking about. afterwards, i went to my cousin's house for a party of sorts; i have to tell you, i was not looking forward to her get-together, as the theme put me on edge. this theme went along the lines of:

remember when i got married five years ago and then got divorced six months later? well, i just got the pictures from the wedding back now, and, hey, wouldn't it be fun and somewhat awkwardly uncomfortable if all of my bridesmaids got together to look at them while trying their hardest not to insult me for being so ridiculous?

actually, it was fun. i did have to bite my tongue a few times when looking at the pictures where the words "always and forever" were embossed in beautiful italics below the happy couple, but what's a party without having to watch your p's and q's? there were a lot of pictures of me in my awful, strapless bridesmaid's dress, my black bra poking out at inopportune times. the picture of class. it was only five years ago, but i looked so young and unsure of myself. what i remember about the wedding itself is rather hazy; there was an open bar at which the bartender neglected to card everyone, and i took full advantage. there's a picture of me in the recieving line shaking hands with my right hand and grasping a vodka tonic in my left. again, the picture of class.

after i left my cousin's house, i got a phone call from chris' sister jessie. chris' aunt is still holding on; because she was so active before her illness, her heart is still beating despite the rest of her body shutting down. they've taken away her feeding tube and the antibiotics; all she's getting now is pain killers. it's only a short matter of time, although that's what they've been saying for four days. jessie's phone call started out very factual, her voice strong as she said, "i just wanted to let you know what's going on with my aunt." that stone coldness ended quickly, and soon we were both crying, jessie on one end, me on another. i feel that, because she's not my aunt, i have no right to feel the way i do, but i can't stand it. i've never been good at handling stuff like this, and my heart aches to hear jessie talk about her. jessie is the most sensitive and emotional out of chris' family, and i think that's part of the reason we get along so well. i just hope she can get through this; obviously, it hasn't been easy on anyone, but she's taking it especially hard. it's just not fair.

i'm writing about all this stuff probably more than i should on such a public forum. i think my readership has been in steady decline, though, so it's probably okay. this decline in readership could be attributed to many factors, i believe, but that's an entry for a different day.