i don't think i want to exchange christmas gifts with anybody this year, aside from family. i know this is very bah-humbug of me, but until april rolls around, i really need to tighten the old financial belt. i do have a grab bag for work that i am going to be part of; it's a twenty dollar gift that i have to buy, and i already know what i'm going to do. i'm buying 20 items at the dollar store and then sticking them in a huge box. whoever gets stuck with my gift is going to hate me. but they will have the following:

six pack of generic cola
deck of playing cards
melon scented candle
one pair of socks
one box of generic cereal

one picture frame
four pack of toilet paper
one toilet brush
one two pack of yo-yos
one notepad with 'fun in the sun' theme

one coffee mug
two greeting cards (one father's day and one sympathy)
crossword puzzle book
fuzzy dice for rearview mirror
reading glasses

child's plastic piggy bank
dvd containing two episodes of betty boop
box of paper clips
snow brush
salad tongs

frankly, i would be thrilled to get a gift of twenty crappy items. however, i can just see this whole thing exploding in my face and everybody thinking i'm the biggest wierdo to walk the earth. at least i'll create a buzz when i carry in the big box. and it's better than some crappy holiday ornament, which is probably what i'll end up getting. i hate getting christmas stuff for christmas. why do people do that?

i lost pitifully at poker last night. not only did i lose pitifully, but then i stumbled away and passed out on the couch while i still had dudes at my table. i think falling asleep when you have company has got to be one of the rudest things a person can do. i know i've done it more than once, but at least i was only out for a little bit, getting up in time to see the last few hands dealt and played. then there was chris. i couldn't find him, so i went into the bedroom to see if he was maybe using our bathroom or something. nope- he was half naked in bed, reading a book and getting ready to sleep. here we have company, and one of us is tucked into bed while the other one's knocked out on the sofa. emily post would have a stroke, if she were still alive. is she still alive? is it rude to ask that? anyways, no wonder people don't like coming over.

his little brother stuck around after the other dudes left, and we played a game of scrabble that lasted until almost three o'clock in the morning. baby boy berger is surprisingly good at scrabble. the last three times i've played with him, i've lost to him by quite a bit, which obviously makes me feel like less of a person. scrabble is supposed to be one of the things i'm good at; if i can't win at scrabble, then why am i on this earth at all? however, last night was the game where i regained my title, force feeding that kid handfuls of my dust. what that title is, i don't know, but i think it scores well over forty if it's on a triple word score tile.

it was nice just hanging out with baby boy. i'm all about the bonding time, even if it interferes wildly with my normal sleep pattern. today, i was too tired to accomplish anything. not that i would have accomplished much anyways, but it's nice to have an excuse.

one of my many credit cards has reward points, which i just realized a few weeks ago. instead of perusing the online catalog, which i now realize i should have, i decided to just cash in the points for a $130 gift card to sears. big mistake- while at sears yesterday, i discovered that it's virtually impossible to find anything that i even remotely would like to purchase. my plan of action was to buy christmas gifts with the $130. again, nobody wants a christmas gift from sears. i must have walked through the entire store six times. ugly clothes, ugly accessories, power tools, crappy kitchenware, and if my lack of choices wasn't bad enough, i had to deal with ty pennington's picture grinning doofily at me around every corner. not sure if 'doofily' is a word, but i'm going to go for it.

sears makes me angry. it should make me happy, considering it was sears where i met my best friend seven- or was it eight?- years ago when i was working there part time. instead of bringing back happy memories of giggling like the school girls we were while hiding out in the big woman's section, it brings back memories of customers randomly deciding to take a shit in the fitting room, of all the schemes customers had in order to return stolen merchandise, return their own used clothings with our tags stuck on there, return stuff purchased in the mid 60s and then, just for the fun of it, keel over right in front of you and vomit all over the handbags. i don't know what it is about sears, but it sure induces a lot of bodily explosions. in fact, i had to sidestep a pile of vomit yesterday while walking through the sweater department.

so, long story short, big department store, big disappointment. and i hate ty pennington and watching the last few minutes of "extreme makeover, home edition" before "desperate housewives" come in is extreme torture. and i'm tired of seeing those families with thirty-some kids that they obviously could never, in their best case scenario, dream to afford. birth control, anybody?

last night, i dreamt that a co-worker had died in a terrible car crash. i don't know why i would dream such a thing, but when he walked into work this morning, boy was i relieved. my dream last night was very vivid. i was living in a house in the country with the cast of tv's friends, and my co-worker was coming up to visit. obviously, he didn't make it, and i was very sad, but i moved on relatively quickly, gathering the gang to clean out the bathrooms, which were disgusting. you should have seen the inside of the toilet bowl; i can't imagine the diet the former owner of this house must have had in order to create such a display of disgustingness.

there was only one shower in the country house, and so i was forced to share a shower with chandler. there was nothing sexual about this; it was an act born of necessity. so we're in this shower, trying to share the water, when we both look down and realize we're still wearing our socks. our black socks. which is a nightmare in and of itself, since i have a strong dislike for black socks. there's something sleazy about black socks. especially when you're otherwise naked.

shortly after taking off my black socks, i awoke.

a dream dictionary yielded no usable results. this dream was very vivid, and i haven't had a vivid dream for some time. as some of you may remember, all of my vivid dreams always revolve around returning to high school or becoming pregnant and then, inevitably, giving birth to something like a muskrat, a table lamp, a six pack of cola. i haven't had a dream like that in some time now; maybe whatever i was dealing with is totally resolved. and now i have this new thing to deal with- a dying friend, a house shared with fictional tv characters, showering with a man i am not attracted to while wearing black dress socks. it's times like this i wish i had a therapist. or a better dream dictionary.

i am the only banker at the bank right now because everybody and their dog decided to call in sick. i believe that they're sick like i believe my cousin's extra cheesey cheese fondue was totally fat free. but while i have to say that i'm pissed that i'm the only sucker sitting here listening to the muzak, it seems like this morning everybody's too busy shopping to bank. which is good.

yesterday was a pleasant enough day. my aunt pointed out that it was the first time in years that every single member of the family was present, and i reflected briefly on that before shoveling a handful of stuffing into my mouth to see how much i could hold in my cheeks before gagging to death. the answer is, not much.

of course, there were all the questions to deal with. my grandfather kept asking me when i was going to graduate college, and i kept telling him, 2002, which prompted his response, "oh, so in another few years?" then he asked me how i liked being a bartender. "i'm not a bartender," i told him, to which he responded, "what's your name again?" the thing is, i don't think he's senile; i think his vision is just so poor that he has no idea who he's talking to. also, he seems to think it's the year 1998, but, again, i don't blame senility, just the fact that he probably hasn't had a good look at a calendar in a while.

the real highlight of my day was when my dad asked if he could speak to me alone. at first, i was certain that i was trouble, that he had seen me go into the garage to have a quick, dealing-with-the-family-stress cigarette. instead, he wanted to tell me how happy he was with everything, how he was really looking forward to my wedding, and how he thought of chris as the son he never had. it brought tears to my eyes, my dad telling me that i found a good man who he could tell really loved me, that my dad was just so pleased with the way things were working out. he went on and on about chris, about his great personality, how he's just so easy to like, how we were such a nice couple, that i instantly regretted yelling at chris earlier in the week about how i'm sick of taking out the garbage all the time. anyhow, it meant so much to know that i truly had my father's blessing and that he was so happy; for a moment, i really began to look forward to the wedding myself, as opposed to mentally envisioning my bank account draining away into a sewer grate of flowers, beef and chicken combo plates, rented limousines, and lots of tulle.

it was a real father-daughter bonding moment, complete with the hug and the ritualistic opening of beers.

thanksgiving? not so bad.

i'm thankful...

that today is a federal holiday with all banks closed.

that i only have to go to one family party today.

that it's not snowing.

that i'm still at that age where nobody expects me to cook anything.

that i have somebody in my life that loves me unconditionally, even when i'm a stark raving mad bitch.

that i have somebody in my life that i love unconditionally, except for when he doesn't clean up after himself.

that, while i'm losing handfuls of hair in the shower every day, i still seem to have a lot of hair left. somehow.

that i will never be fat, even if i try.

that my dad is my dad.

that i have never lost a finger in a factory machine.

the first snow of the season was absolutely perfect. first of all, it was beautiful, and i never ever say that about snow. second of all, getting it off my car took all of two seconds. third of all, it's almost ten am, and it's practically all melted away. today's snow was how i generally like family gathers- pleasant, without hassle, and over before you know it. too bad tomorrow's family gathering probably won't be like today's snow.

standing by the balcony doors this morning, holding my mug of coffee and gazing at the snow, i reminisced about all of my positive snow memories. most of my snow experiences have been dreadful, and i could easily live out the rest of my life without ever seeing another flake of snow. however, i had to laugh this morning thinking back to that one bad snowstorm when they basically shut down the town. the mall was closed, and i got paid for not working, thereby qualifying as one of the best days of my life. then, the next day when they re-opened, my father drove me in, as the snow was above my head and i was afraid to drive myself. we got in the station wagon, which my father hilariously referred to as his "battle wagon," and we got to the mall in record time, my dad plowing the car through monster snow drifts and taking turns on snow covered roads at speeds of close to 55. i don't think he could even see out of the windshield; i know i couldn't. i still think back to that car ride and laugh out loud, whilst shaking my head in that "oh, dad" kind of way.

then there was the snow memory of when i was about five-ish and i used to eat snow, because it looked like mashed potatoes, and i loved mashed potatoes. i remember finding some snow with a little yellow on it, and it looked like butter mashed potatoes, so i ate up. later, when i told my mother about the buttered mashed potatoes, she called me a freaking idiot and told me that the butter was dog urine. this is one of my earliest memories, and while it's absolutely disgusting, it still makes me laugh, whilst shaking my head in that "oh, urine" kind of way. yuck.

then there's the memory of a few years ago, driving 3 hours to see my wonderful boyfriend at the time when i knew damn well it was about to snow, and hard. so, i get in the car, and this is after spending the day as a complete psychopath, going to work in a sweatshirt. we were about to break up, and i knew this, but i didn't, and while we wanted to see each other, only i was willing to drive, because i'm a moron. so i'm on I-80, and everything is fine. then, with one hour to go, the skies open up and i'm in the middle of one of the biggest blizzards i have ever witnessed. the highway is completely dark; there were no lamplights and no other cars, and i could only see a few feet in front of me at a time. the snow came at me like stars hurling at a rocketship in a movie, and i could only go about 15 miles per hour, because my tires couldn't take it. i gripped the steering wheel so tightly, shaking and crying and trying to figure out what to do, because i was, for all intents and purposes, out in the middle of nowhere. not to exaggerate or anything, but i thought for sure i was a goner. i would die in a chevy cavalier turned upside down in a snow bank. this was my fate, i just knew it. i kept going, praying, and then i found an off ramp leading to a lone gas station out in the middle of nowhere. i could barely navigate on the ramp and road and then into the parking lot, because the snow was so high, but i managed to pull up to a pump. i asked the gas station attendants, but there were no hotels nearby, and i called my boyfriend to ask what i should do. he informed me that it wasn't even snowing where he was, approximately 20 minutes away. after some debating, i got into my car and got back onto the highway, like a moron, but i made it. when i pulled onto the off ramp that led into his town, wouldn't you know, there wasn't a speck of snow in sight. it took me hours to convince him how bad the highways had been; it wasn't until the department of transportation shut them down that i could finally convince him. of course, we broke up the next morning, and i was stuck there for another day, so that was fun. at least we got to have sex a few more times after that. and then well into the summer. oh, him.

anyways, i think i've said too much again.

BANGKOK, Thailand (AP) -- Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra has said he will not answer reporters' questions until next year because the alignment of the planets is not in his favor.

perfect. if a prime minister can do that, so can i. except not with reporters, but with people. in general. like customers. or that cashier who keeps asking for my zip code.

my cousin has been thinking more about my wedding than i have. i think most people have been thinking more about my wedding than me, because whenever i start to think about it, even a little bit, i proceed to get drunk and find ways to amuse myself with old re-runs of "roseanne." if that family can make ends meet, any family can!

my cousin wanted to look at bridesmaid dresses. then bridesmaid dresses led to bridesmaid jewelry, which is my responsibility to purchase, and then jewelry led to veils. i was planning on making my own veil, but i should probably admit now that i'm not the most crafty girl around, and a homemade veil may just end up looking a lot like a bounty paper towel bobbie-pinned to my head.

then we were talking about my bachelorette party. i could frankly care less about a bachelorette party. if all the girls want to come over and watch some "roseanne" with me, that would be fine. i might even make a salad.

but first, before all of this, we went to my cousin's mary kay lady. i did not want to go see the mary kay lady, as i knew i would be given the hard sell and would, inevitably, cave in. so we sat in this lady's kitchen and went through the whole facial routine. i never realized it could take a full hour to wash your face. after the face washing debacle, we did the make-up thing. like the facial, this was also a 46 step routine, so another hour went by, and then we tried the hand products, which, i have to admit, made my hands feel like the behind of a baby that had been soaking in lotion. marvelous.

i didn't want to buy a single thing. i couldn't afford to buy a single thing. in the end, i bought four different sets of things. i wasn't going to buy the brush set, but when she said the bristles were made from goat and pony hair, i thought, what the hell. i love animals.

walking out of there, i kept trying to justify my hefty purchase. i had surprised my cousin so much, that she had nearly fallen out of her chair, as she has always been the one to make impulse purchases and i've always been the one to debate, aloud, whether the extra 39 cents is worth it for the supersize. but here's how i look at it. the skin products will make me glow. the make-up will be something classier for my wedding, or nights out at the bar when i'm trying to meet men. the goat and pony hair brushes are just funny. and the other things i bought? well, i had to buy four in order to get the "free" carrying case. that means i can retire my "baggie" system for keeping my shit separate, which will be nice, since the amount of funk in my baggies are legally considered bio-hazards.

i am so ashamed. but at least i look good.

so, there may be a chance that i will be a blogger on the daily herald website come january. the editor contacted me today (after i contacted her a while ago) and said that they would be interested in having a blogger (that would be me, the lovely jaclyn) discuss budgeting and everyday financial issues. this is right up my alley for several reasons:

1. i like money.
2. i'm in the banking industry.
3. i am very good at budgeting.
4. i am currently planning a wedding on a budget, which might interest maybe three, at least four, other people.
5. i am quite good at putting humorous spins on things that can be very boring. such as budgeting.

anyhow, i must say i'm pretty excited about this, which is a good indicator that i probably need to get a life. however, this could perhaps launch me straight into a lucrative journalism career which could, in term, launch me straight into a lucrative.... screen-writing career? hey, it could happen.

well, i just discovered that borrowing dvds at the library is free. being the tightwad that i am, you'd think i'd have already known this. here i was considering joining netflix when the public library is ten minutes away with an absolutely stellar collection of hits. for free! yesterday, i decided to check out a movie i've been wanting to see, assuming that it would still be cheaper than blockbuster and maybe cost me about a buck or two, and there i was holding my five dollar bill when the librarian gave me a friendly smile and handed me my movie without asking me for any cash. i hesitated for a long moment, waiting for her to say something, anything, about this lack of fee, and finally she told me, "okay, you can go now."

"a free movie," i said to myself in awe as i walked to my car, nearly getting hit by a buick as my eyes glazed over with happiness. "things are looking up."

yes, friends, with free movies on the horizon, my life is about to change in wonderous ways. this is like the night when i found that snow shovel in a pile of trash on the curb (i was not picking through trash, mind you, i just happened to be walking by at the right time) or like when i found a piece of cellophane in my omelet at baker's square and, score, free meal! the same thing happened at denny's when the waitress spilled sprite in my lap. free meal, wet pants? now there's a trade-off that i didn't have to think twice about. plus, sprite is clear. if a clear liquid spills somewhere, i don't even count it as a spill. like dust on top of high shelves. if you can't see it, it ain't there.

anyhow, i have a few recommendations for the library. the free dvd rentals are great, but i would also love to rent the following for free as well:

board games
video games
a food processor
folding chairs for parties
rug cleaner (for spills other than sprite, water, tonic water, etc)
a selection of nice purses for nights out on the town
kegs

come on, public library. let's take what you're already doing and make it even better. there are a thousand things out there that i would love to borrow for free! and together, we can make this happen.

email time capsule

of course, i love this idea, but when i started to write an email to myself, the only words i could get to come out were "rectum? it nearly killed him!" not exactly the kind of pertinent info i'm going to need to remember in 20 years.

i thought about listing basics about myself: weight, salary, how much i'm willing to spend on jeans, favorite cheese, current poker winnings, length of hair, names of people i like and dislike, brand of toothpaste, most recent movie viewed. then i thought, christ, that's just going to depress me in 20 years when i weigh more, earn about the same, the price of jeans is much higher, i loose my house in a poker game, my hair is gone, people i like and dislike are all dead, my brand of toothpaste has gone off the market, and my most recent movie viewed is now on the turner classic movie channel. i don't need another feel-bad email in my life. what i need is something to make me laugh.

so i guess my first instint of "rectum? it nearly killed him!" was probably spot on.

in 20 years, i'll be 45. probably still married to chris, but who knows, really. i'll probably have a number of kids, all of whom hate me, and i'll have strands of grey hair, crow's feet, and a strong dislike for popular music. i'll see a little of my mother in the mirror, and i'll probably have the early signs for some sort of irritating, yet managable disease. a disease that causes frequent trips to the bathroom. this will be my fate.

wow, i feel great.

so, i've been following that story about the kids from pennsylvania because i am an avid follower of the news, and whatnot. i just like to read about the kinds of crazy messes people get themselves into. plus, it would make the basis for a great christopher pike novel. and you know how i feel about christopher pike.

so, i'm reading a few articles, and i find out that both kids have been home schooled, and then everything starts to make sense. there's something creepy about kids who are home schooled. at least i know there would be something creepy about my kid, if one day i decided to home school him or her. i wonder how much you can really teach a kid when you've already had two martinis by ten am.

anyhow, the police are operating under the premise that the girl has been "abducted" by her boyfriend. i'm calling it now- it's a load of crap. she was in on it. at least she would have been in on it had it been written by christopher pike. of course, she'd also be a time traveling vampire in that particular book, but there's no need to be technical.

last night, the wind kept me awake. the wind. it sounded like a freight train barrelling down on olive oyl tied to the train tracks, and for a while around four in the morning, i wondered if maybe i was actually in a tornado, that the maybe the wind was going to pick up my little townhouse, spin it around in the air, and then drop me on top of a witch somewhere. i quickly dismissed the idea of a tornado though, when i realized i was too tired to stand up, look out the window, and attempt to deal with such a situation. instead, i lay there and tried to ignore the rattling windows, the sounds of patio furniture being blown all over the place, the madly thrashing tree branches, and what sounded like my car being tipped over and then blown down the street straight into the pond.

this morning, the wind is just as loud and fierce. i am afraid to drive in this weather, but duty calls, and i must go to my job. heh heh, i said duty.

yesterday, with all the wind and rain, was the perfect day for spending on the couch. i watched three movies, two of them bad (but in that tolerable, so bad it's actually decent way), and one of them really good. i'll spare you the names of those bad ones, but the good one was "hannah and her sisters," a woody allen film. i thought i disliked woody allen, but, i have to admit, that tiny little goofball sure did have a few good one-liners. unfortunately, nobody said the words "these pretzels are making my thirsty." in fact, neither pretzels nor thirst was mentioned at all.

i worked on my scarf, i played a little zelda, chris and i went out to dinner, and, throughout the course of the day, i ate approximately 78 chocolate covered malt balls. overall, the day was great.

“Money doesn’t make you happy. I now have $50 million, but I was just as happy when I had $48 million.” - Arnold Schwarzenegger

i really hope he's aiming for funny. who voted for this guy, anyway?

does it ever stop?

confessions 20-27

i stuck it out for the holidays
just to get a gift out of you.

i basically invited myself to dinner
by commenting, several times,
on how nobody at my house knew
how to cook, and, boy,
wasn’t i pretty thin and sickly?

i told you i didn’t have plans for friday,
but i did, and i broke them
so i could sit in your car with you
and endure the awful silence.

i was embarrassed when
i told you i had never been to
the blue man group
just so i could hear you talk
about them, and then,
fifteen minutes later,
that other guy said, "her?
i think she’s been there like twice
or something."
and then i had to play dumb and
say, "oh, the blue man group.
i thought you were talking about
some other color."

if somebody leaves
a can of pop in the
fridge at work,
i will drink it in secret in the bathroom
and then deny it to my grave.

i told you i didn’t know how to play poker
so that i could win your fifty bucks,

and when i said i still had your book at home
but kept "forgetting" it? yeah,
i knew damn well that my father had put it in
the goodwill donation bin and, no,
i really don’t plan on buying you another.

when i can't think of anything to write, i go through the few shreds of old writing that i still have lying around. today i found this, from sometime in the mid late 90s.

confession 17

i was anorexic for periods of five minutes at a time
in between hours, days, and weeks
of normal to heavy food consumption.

it's true.
i'd be counting the calories in a single lettuce leaf
at 12:03
but by 12:15
would find myself ear deep in ketchup from
my second foot long hot dog,

laughing over the sunday comics
and thinking of my favorite shoes.

yes,
i'd eat three square meals a day
for 86 hours until
86 bad seconds would find me
spitting out my gum because of
any gum juice
i might swallow;
i was so fucked up, i couldn't even blink-

but one day i learned to love myself,
and now i'm only anorexic
for 3 short minutes every 4 to 5 months,
which, i bet,
is way less than average.

my first email address was jaclyn54321@rocketmail.com. i added the "54321" only because of the "rocketmail" part; i imagined myself lifting off into space after a countdown as such, soaring through the heavens in clouds made out of emails composed only of compliments and the phone numbers of many attractive boys, who would randomly email me to ask me out to the taco bell. i think that, in the entire six months that i had that address back in the spring of 1995, i recieved only one email, and that was from somebody offering to refinance my home. i immediately wrote back, stating, no, i was fifteen and didn't own a home, but, hey, about some nachos?

my second email address was stumblebee@yahoo.com. i loved the word stumblebee; whenever i typed it, i imagined an adorable honey bee drunk on flower juice, flitting around with one eye blinked shut, crashing into other insects and hiccupping his apologies. stumblebee did not last very long; i believe i gave my email address to somebody that i did not like, therefore i was forced to open a new account and never, ever check stumblebee again, as to not see that person's name in my inbox. the things i will do to avoid unpleasantness.

my third email address is the one i have now. ferclyn is obviously a combination of my first and last name, and also my pen name for when i become wildly famous after writing "100 novels in 100 pages." i have had this email address since 1996 or so; it is, what you might call, a part of me. i think of all of the emails i have read as ferclyn- some hysterical, some heartbreaking, some informational, some utterly irritating. if i were the kind of person who saved all of my emails, they would tell quite the story. of course, i'm the kind of person who saves nothing; therefore, i am once again left without a story to tell.

the reason i bring all of this nonsense up is that i have an impending wedding and subsequent name change. name change. it's pretty archaic that women are still changing their name, but since not changing my name would cause more trouble down the road than not (didn't you ever get married, you old spinster? why does mommy have a different last name? both of our names won't fit on the mailbox.), i am, in about half a year, going to be a completely new person. namewise. which means-

i won't be ferclyn anymore.

this disturbs me to no end. berclyn just doesn't have the same ring to it, and, even if it did, i am NOT a berclyn. i'm a ferclyn. and without being ferclyn, i may just end up so lost that i'll find myself one morning wandering up and down the highway with a bedsheet trailing behind me as a wail and wail and chew on some beef jerky and wail and wail some more.

i'm sure i'll be fine.

i had a very vivid dream two nights ago. lately, my dreams have been somewhat drab and forgetful; i think an entire dream last week was devoted to the slow consumption of a chicken sandwich. this dream two nights ago, however, was chockful of action and talking points. in this dream, chris had found a new girlfriend named melanie who, i might add, was very cute and proper.

we had broken up, and so, logically, i was living with my parents again. the reality of the situation is that i shall never live with my parents again, but in this particular dream, i moved back home, converting the new office back into my old bedroom. chris had remained on good terms with my sister, and so one night, after the two of them plus melanie had gone out for some tacos, i stood up waiting for chris' car to pull up so he could drop my sister off. when the red sunfire (which chris colorfully refers to as "the chinaman" as a lebowski reference) pulled up, i raced outside. my sister was getting out of the car, but i started screaming at chris, "you get out of the car, too!" melanie, ever so snuggly buckled up in the front seat, politely ignored my frantic screaming by pretending to be engrossed in a smudge on the windshield that vaguely resembled teddy roosevelt. chris was adamant about not getting out of the car and not coming inside. "it's over," he said calmly. "i never loved you." i stood there and screamed obscenities for a few minutes, but eventually the chinaman pulled away, and i was left there, in the middle of the street, alone and in an extremely unflattering bathrobe.

inside- and this is where things get psycho- i flipped out. i threw myself in the sink. why i would think of throwing myself in the sink, i don't know, but in my dream, i fit perfectly in the sink with all of the dirty dishes, and i thrashed around madly, breaking each and every one of those dishes. it was a fit to be remembered. my mother came in the kitchen and mumbled something about needing a broom, and i said to her, "this is no time for a broom. this, mother, is the time for a sedative. and a cocktail." after cleaning out all the cuts from the broken glass, i had exactly that.

i woke up and felt weird. why would i dream about this? chris would never leave me, as i'm the best thing to ever have happened to him, and even if he did, i don't think dish breaking and an ugly bathrobe would be on my "getting over it" menu. i am, after all, a very refined young woman.

i told chris about my dream. he said, "well maybe that's a warning of things to come if you don't start treating me better." to which i replied, "i treat you just fine. now where the hell's my dinner?"

ferozan was telling me about guy fawkes night over in england. oh, those wacky brits and their wacky days. i did a little internet surfing about this dude, because that's what i do, and i found all of these rhymes. and then it hit me: wouldn't "gunpowder treason" be a fantastic name for a band?

i can't possibly use that name for my band, since my band consists of me banging a pot with a wooden spin while my ensemble of socks just kind of lay there, but for anyone in a band, about to be in a band, or looking to create a fictional band for the purposes of novel or screen writing- gunpowder treason. that's where it's at.

the skinny on blog values

so, if you scroll down and look to your right, you'll see that my blog is worth over $15,000. i didn't think that was a whole lot, since the freakonomics dudes are worth about $900,000, but then i started plugging in the urls of the blogs i frequent, and none of them were worth over $5000. which means the staff here at "under my thumb" is doing a pretty decent job... of whatever it is the staff here does. last time i checked, the director of sales was busy trying to find a decent recipe for mint jelly, and the marketing coordinator's out buying socks.

i'm obviously not making any ad revenue on this blog, so the worth must be derived from a complex formula involving the number of hits i get multiplied by how many years i've been around. this formula must also include how many times i've mentioned the following words:

poop
fucking nightmare
ornithology

well, i think that's the first time i've ever used the word 'ornithology.' so clearly the blog's not rated on that.

i'm wondering how i can cash in on the blog. i'd gladly give up blogging for a nice check. i'd probably give it up for about fifty bucks, if you found me at the right day in my pay cycle. so, for anyone out there who just hates me, here's your chance to shut me up forever.

i met michelle at oakbrook last night for dinner at maggiano's. i haven't been to maggiano's for years; i think the last time i went was with michelle, jason, and dan two years ago for dan's birthday. that was the evening we all dressed up in suits and dresses and decided to hit the town like it was the night of prom. mostly what i remember about that evening was downing three or four martinis, stumbling around town a little bit, and then suddenly waking up the next morning wondering how i'd gotten home and why i was still wearing shoes.

i got to oakbrook much earlier than michelle, and i decided to spend some time browsing in crate and barrel, the pottery barn, and, finally, bloomingdale's home furnishing's store. lately, i've been buying my cookware at the likes of target and walmart, and so when i saw the versace china (retail price $300 for one small serving platter), i nearly fainted on the spot. i don't think i will ever be in the kind of financial situation where i can justify dropping three hundred on one serving platter- and i don't care who designed it. if jesus christ (superstar?) came out with a serving platter designed to hold mini hot dogs and redemption, i'd still have to consider it.

it would be nice to have money.

yesterday, the cheese turned 27. he's either in his late mid twenties or his early late twenties; i can't decide which description is more flattering. we didn't do very much for his birthday, as he has been collecting "presents" for several months now- video games, tickets to regan, that one time i let him "do me" when i wasn't in the mood- but we had a nice day anyways. we went downtown to jeweler's row and talked wedding rings with chris' "ring guy," and then we split a pizza at pizano's. later, we went to chris' parents' house for dinner. steak, shrimp, potatoes, salad, mushrooms- i couldn't have been happier if it was my birthday! thankfully, though, it wasn't my birthday, because, quite frankly, i'm old enough right now.

not much else has been going on, except for dan and rachel's party last saturday night, which was an absolute blast. then, sunday rolled around an hour later than usual, and i did very little, aside from spending the afternoon making a homemade soup which, can i just say, didn't induce even a little vomiting. i also started reading a book called "flashforward" by some science fiction writer. the premise is that, due to some experiment gone totally awry, everybody on the planet is transported to twenty years in the future for precisely one minute, forty-seven seconds. you can imagine the hilarity that ensues! i wonder what i would see if i were sent to the future; with my luck, i'd be spending the whole minute forty-seven on the can. without reading material.

monday was halloween, and it was work, work, work, and then dinner with chris' sister beth, which was very nice. i think she must have run out of people to call before she finally dialed my number, but, hey, i'll take it.

as an update to my "novel in one month" thing, i have five hundred words. which isn't terrible. but, let's face it, it's not good. so i'm going to retract my first assessment of the situation and say, yes. yes, it's terrible.