It's all your FAULT

I can't help but look back on some people who have passed through my life and think, "If only you hadn't done that...."
I can be so self centered, but at least I know this. Why do people do things that fuck up MY life? Why did that bitch date him for one week and move on? Why did s/he lie? Why did s/he stop caring? Why why why?

Pool pool pool.

I don't not say things for a reason. I'm not joking.

Teeny Weenies

Awwww that's so embarrasing!

Um.

I just heard my upstairs neighbor have loud sex.
To be fair, she was the loud one, her boyfriend was only represented with constant thumps.

Whoopi has no eyebrows

Why do I cry every time I watch ER?

I LOVE IT.

I am so ready to finish this semester. I know I have 3 major projects due next week and I'm working Friday, Saturday, Sunday, but I think I work so much better when under pressure!

God I hope that's true.

Free to Indulge

I remember thinking, "I'm not safe in this car." But I also didn't want to go inside. The car was warm and the radio was playing. Outside was cold, dark, scary, lonely.
I sat at the corner of Baring Street, mad that he left me out there.
I was more mad that we were there at all.
I was more mad that I couldn't change this situation.

The street lights were tall, making circles on the sidewalks, with darkness in between and all around.
He came running outside to the window and told me to turn off the car and come inside.
I turned off the car,
I locked the car,
I walked with him in my pajamas,
I went inside.

The door was dirty. Inside was dirty and dark. Piles of broken furniture lined the living room walls. The carpet looked old. Everything was broken and horrible. I walked up the stairs, gripping his hand, hating this place.
I followed him past a door with shards of wood falling from the frame. Not stopping, I asked what was in there.
Who lived in that room?
A pitbull.
The pitbull was high.
The pitbull broke the door.

We walked to another room. There were two gius watchinmg a movie sitting on the floor in the dark. A fishtank glowed across the room, dingy and dry.
There was no where to sit. I was afraid to touch the floor or lean on the walls, stained and streaked with violence and dogs and drugs. The man smelled. He wore a big shirt to cover his big belly. It was dark, he was dark. I didn't want to see him, hear him or smell him.

Blackout

I can't believe how I just forgot things on Sunday. I forgot that I started crying on the 21 on the way home from downtown, wearing my super boots and feeling sorry for myself. I forgot that I called the Fridge and he was drunk and stupid, my least favorite combo. I forgot that I sat on the cushion-less couch in the cold, pawing at Mister until cold was too cold. Later, I forgot that I had been face-attacked (molested doesn't sound right).

French Toast

It feels nice to have a set date.

Emipre Diner.
Sunday mornings.
Frandy (aka Fran and Sandy).

We want Nikki and Anthony to come too and share with us:

THE
BEST
FRENCH
TOAST
EVER.

Running Low

I want to stay home and watch tv.
Lidia is making a balsamic glazed turkey.
I don't want to go out drinking, I don't want to do much.
I said already, "I can't believe this is happening again."
I didn't mean to step into the same shoes.
My abs said no yesterday.

Someone wrote to me the other day that I am "NOT A SOCIAL WORKER."
To which I replied, "I am not a social worker, you are right about that."
Thinking about it now, of course I actually am. I had such a hard time deciding between education and social work because they are so intertwined. The role I choose is both.

Currently listening to:
Polyphonic Spree Lithium
Flaming Lips Waiting for a Superman

Radiator Love

Winter has come.
Who will keep me warm?


My boyfriend.

bloggy

School has made me so tired. I want to write all the time. Rather, I want to blog all the time. I want to get things off of my chest, I want to remember, I want people to know, I want to make footprints.

I end up writing a lot in my fieldwork notes, my class notes, my blackboard posts, and telling Jamie. This is something that I wouldn't share in any of those fora.

Last night's dream:
This was definitely a dream where I was resolving a current issue in my unconscious. I start out in a city, which I guess is either Philadelphia or New York. I am somewhere familiar where there are many African men. One of them is a cabbie, and we know eachother by face. He leaves and I am there with 2 friends, deciding whether I should walk to the next corner, which would be 3rd, or walk another block to 4th before I catch either a bus or a cab to where I need to go. I decide to start walking towards 4th and call for a cab to meet me there. I call the African cabbie that I know by face, but he doesn't recognize my voice as I ask him to pick me up at 4th street in 5 minutes. I am suddenly unsure that I want him to pick me up so I tell him I will call him back. I stop and realizde that I am in front of the hotel where I am supposed to go. Dad and I were going to an award dinner for girls at school or something just for women. It was in a hotel, and I went inside early. In the entranceway there is a split staircase leading to the second floor where I know the dinner is. There is an old man staring at me in the lobby, but I do not make eye contact.
Inside the room, people are still setting up. I see 2 tables with nametags, and spot mine quickly, though there is more than one de la Torre and more than one name with de la. I go to the back room where there are illegal immigrants washing dishes for the event, because they are still setting the tables. My boyfriend is there, but it is actually my friend's boyfriend, but he is mine in the dream. The kitchen manager puts him to work, which upsets me. I take him by the hand and we go upstairs to what is my house, where my dad is getting ready for this event. He is using the bathroom, and boyfriend and I decide to make out on my parent's bed with the tv on. My dad walks by and we stop. We sit and then Dad is ready to go. We go downstairs, find seats, and I sit next to my boyfriend as my Dad goes off to do something. For some reason, we leave the room again, I think to go to the dishwashing room. When we return, the whole event is over, everyone has eaten and left, and no one can tell me who won what awards. I go outside to find my Dad or to leave. It is sunny and I am in a parking lot with sneakers lined up in two double rows of pairs of shoes, and people are looking for their shoes. I am looking for my shoes, and I think they are grey and pink sneakers. Once I find them, I know that I can leave. Johnsworth is there.
Wake up.

oopsie

Last night in class I was telling my group about my grandparents' plan to find Uncle Mo a wife in Taiwan. We had a good laugh about arranged marriage, and then one student asked me if my Uncle is still available (so we could arrange marriage with another student in my class). Ha ha. I almost said, no he's dead, but I held my tongue and said instead, "I have an aunt now."

Short Updates

We had a talk.
Everything is good.
Talking makes me high.

I have reading.
I am not watching tv.
Listening to "Blizzard of '77."

I have a secret.
Of course I'll tell you.
My happy is smushing my angry.

Mister is back.
Mom made him fatter.
He is my most consistant boyfriend.

oh man

I can't help but see how this is going to end, and I know that it has just started, but this is me knowing too much.

I've already had this discussion -- how I need to be with someone of passion. I know I tease Nikki a lot about her hate/love voice, but I really do appreciate how she takes a stand on things. She hates and loves. Feelings. Extreme feelings.

He is very nice. I am bad at finding the nice ones, but I have found one. He just seems a little lukewarm about me and everything else in the world. I want to see what it's like when he's really upset, really happy, really something. I won't be able to be nice and calm like I am right now for long... I am totally due for a freak out.

Last night would have been optimal for a freak out because I was telling the girls about something that had previously made me freak out. Completely even-toned. Not me. That just means that something is simmering and getting ready to boil over next time.

We'll see.

couch

yesterday sandy rivers saw a homeless woman sleeping on the porch couch. she slept there till 10. i was asleep in my bed until 2. i went out tonight to good dog, because mcglinchys was closed for labor day. nick was there, he has the flu. we watched south park with the subtitles on. i met kevin for beers and we watched jay kill at pool. when i got home,
the homeless lady
was sleeping
on the couch
again.
i woke her up and made her leave. she almost scoffed at me, as if this weren't really my house.
pissed off, i took all of the pillows off of the couch and febreezed them in the living room. i love the fucking porch couch, but now i have to sell the fucker. this sucks.
now i'm watching jose gonzales on leno. love.
sometimes when i'm at a concert, i imagine that i'm watching stefan playing again. things were fucked up when he left, but i always remember him fondly.
admiral byrd.

that wasn't enough

i am so angry in some ways. so angry i haven't been back to blog.

i am moving this week. painting the house last week and this week. sometimes i wish i could hold in some things, forget other things. it's just not me. i am so so upset. i am so mad.

but in other places, i am really happy. so this mad stuff isn't holding me back. some things are new and exciting, and i feel change and change is good right now. i could fall of the earth right now and be ok.

so

angry
lazy
manly
gross
sad
eager
ready
vengeful
full
excited
bitter

and, according to aaron, "cock hungry"

Simpson Wisdom

Homer: No wonder she hates me! I never even noticed she existed....

Marge: Homer, if you want to make it up to her, just spend some time with her [Lisa].

and I'm taking Heather with me!

I'm moving again!
Nikki and I have decided that we want to take over the downstairs apartment... and we are!
Now all we have to do is get Heather in on it....

I have been MIA recently, and am about to be a little more invisible.
My uncle died in May, but his memorial service isn't until this weekend because it is his birthday, and we are going to spread his ashes in the lake where the island is where he lived.
Grandma Lupe is suffering through uterine cancer, which sounds very unpleasant, but she has been very tough until this month. Unfortunately, she has made many friends whom she has already outlived. I have no idea what she is feeling. I will be visiting her when I get back from BC. What really has made this real to me was when I went to the doctor and reported that there was cancer in my family.

Maybe this is all too blunt for you, but I have been holding it in, and there is no way to soften this, because I don't feel soft about it. I don't feel soft about you. I feel hard about this and you and my cat and my friends and moving and my savings and my volunteering.

Josie Grossie

Last night I had a dream about something, and there was a random cameo of an ex. That was scary enough, but then this morning, while cleaning my room, I came across a pic of me and a different ex kissing. Not only did it totally gross me out, but I cannot recall the feelings that I know I once had for that person. That grossed me out too. Then I found a pic of me and yet another ex and no attempt to cover up a hickey. That was gross too.

On another note, congratulations to Erin for not making me vomit emotionally. Nick, too. Greek salad is a little gross the next day.

Random bit: I caught a glimpse of myself sideways in the mirror while stretching, and this bra makes me boobalicious when I'm sucking in babygut. Maybe I should send my pic to Is Alicia gonna have to choke a bitch?

Lessons My Father Taught Me: 04

If you don't speak up, you won't be heard.

This has become something so innate in me, it's very hard for me to understand how it could be difficult for other people. As a small child, my dad was really always super fun and silly, but also fatherly. As I grew just a little older, old enough not to be scared, he would talk to me as he talks to others.

"I say it loudly the first time so that I don't have to say it a second time."

I get it, at least I know I get it now. He did say things loudly, but that does not always mean that he was screaming (though he often did). I don't know how not to express myself verbally. I don't know how not to complain (appropriately) when something is unjust, unequal, incorrect, falls short of expectations. This has extended into other facets of my life. I am completely unable to not speak up in almost every situation. This hinders my relationships with people who are not comfortable with personal sharing or listening.

I know that my father had intended this type of advice/lesson/rule so that I would never be left out of a game at school, so that I would be considered for positions at work, so that quality would not be compromised, et cetera, et cetera.

Something smells like burned coffee, and it smells so icky that I have to leave the house. So, you get the gist. I say things out loud, and I expect to be heard, so when I am not, it hurts my feelings and I have to make new friends or get another job.

Looking over my shoulder

I noticed that there are a lot of people conducting blog searches of other people, and are finding my blog. It's a little weird. I want to know who is interested in reading about my random childhood friends.

The other night, frustrated and pissed at everyone I know, basically, I walked home from Center City in my stupid kitten heels. Totally randomly, I ran into a friend from work on the bridge. I didn't want to tell him that I really had to pee and standing there talking was not helping the situation, but rather than do the pee-pee dance, I made hazy reference to needing to go somewhere further west towards my house (and please realize that this was still about 16 blocks away from my house), so we parted ways. I then thought of any person who might possibly have the ability to drive me home, and my phone decided not to make outgoing calls to anyone except someone I know who lives in Roxborough. Super.

I have this sportsbra tanktop that is kind of cropped, but it is seriously the best bra. I decided yesterday that I don't give a shit about my babygut, because the best bra is really worth it. I wore it running, along with the little shorts that are my summer uniform, and lucky me, I just happened to run by 3 construction sites and several unloading trucks. It's ok, nothing was as invasive as the old man last night at McGillan's. Seriously, he was like 80. Wanted to know where I am from. Touched me. I completely turned my back to him, yet he still ogled me and all of my friends. He then went on to touch Madigan and creep all of us out, in addition to the two guys standing by the wall, watching this really old, creepy man creep us out.

You don't care.

This is just a note to me to remember that this weekend was a bust. Working a wedding and stealing a quart of hummus was pretty much the highlight. Now that I have an exorbitant amount of time on my hands, I realize how many things I used to do, and am trying to re-involve myself with "things."

Tonight, one "thing" was bar hopping. I forgot that I don't really like it when I actually drink at the bars. My body has developed its own liquid limit. Super.

I have actually thought and done many things since my last post, but I just don't have the energy to report it all. Here is a snippet: fallinginbirdshit, tinytshirt, notollmoney, sleepinginbooksagain, nobooty.

BTW

This is where I burned....

The People of Bonnaroo

I just had to cut myself off from myspace. So addictive.
I feel some urgency to now tell the story of the People of Bonnaroo.

First of all, Heather and I have no pictures of anyone we came with, though I know I took pictures with someone's camera, it just wasn't one of ours. We do, however, have several pictures of the nice people we met and the crazies we couldn't look away from. As it turns out, all the crazies we met (except the nipple people) came out on Friday, and the nice people we met on Saturday night at Beck/Radiohead. We met another crazy on Friday, but Heather didn't get a picture. We'll just call him "No Pants Man."

Alli and Heather. Nice.

Beth. Though I am sure she is a nice person, she was definitely more of a crazy. She made me dance with her for a little bit, and asked me if I was a massage therapist.


Spencer and me. Nice. Again, I have no eyes in this picture, but that's ok because they were actually quite large and Spencer was the evening's Designated Navigator anyway.


Penis man. Very friendly, but crazy. You can't see this in the pic, but he was humping my leg.

Jeremy. Nice. He told me that maybe God is sending me a sign that I should smoke.

Nipple People. Crazy. I have nipple issues anyway, and that did not make me like these people more. They pretty much tie with the people who have paint-on-shirts (and by paint, I mean paint).

Rant-y

I just don't feel like writing this again.

A Day Without a Cheesesteak

Geno's always has to make a statement about something. It's the most political cheesesteak joint in town.

Meanwhile, in Franland...
I am getting ready to go to Bonnaroo next week and finally finish this school year (phew!).
Kitty has been really good lately, sleeping the whole night and hanging out in the windows.
I still have major sleeping issues -- falling asleep really early and waking up early even when I don't have work. Such as today. Woke up at 5 because I fell asleep at like 10 last night. Sorry Sandra, I am bad for nighttime hanging out now.

Working today and tomorrow. Smell ya later.

Some reasonable, some not...

Pet Peeves

-- pronouncing the "l" in "salmon"
-- walking with overly splayed feet (unless you are obese)
-- intentional lisps
-- lazy speech and speakers
-- "kewl"
-- too many accessories (especially in the case of garnishing each wrist and ear, ankles, neck, waist, brooches, etc.)
-- double boob
-- exposed thong or string
-- trying to be the first discoverer of culture, rather than an adventurer
-- "ain't"
-- overuse of the verbs "get" or "do"
-- life-altering obsession over almost anything (stamps, tv shows, shoelaces, hilary duff, etc.)
-- racial slurs
-- salting food pre-taste
-- dog-earing book pages
-- losing the end of tape rolls
-- erasing chalk/marker boards with hands
-- pants above the waistline or below the midline of the buttcheek
-- underuse of adverbs when appropriate
-- overuse of spacefillers ('kay, um, so, but, like, yeah, right)
-- inappropriate semi-colon usage
-- leaving on lights and appliances when not at home
-- liquid in the garbage bag, which then leaks into the can
-- thinking you are better when you are not

Hm. . . that seems like a lot. Now, here is something to enrich your life:

Therefore, there is no such thing as a "four-dot ellipsis." A period followed by an ellipsis may look like four dots, but they are two separate entities.

Lessons My Father Taught Me: 03

Do not waste.

That's pretty self-explanitory. If ever there was a piece of rotting cheese or a soft fruit, my dad would ream anyone for attempting to throw it out instead of scraping off the bad part or cooking or washing away what others feel cannot be scraped, cooked, or washed away.

We went out for lunch this weekend, and just as the waiter was taking away the appetizer plate, my dad snatched up the parsley garnish. The waiter smiled because it is not normal for people to eat even edible garnishes. My dad, however, always eats the parsley, or the radish flower, or the lettuce cup, or the whatever, as long as it's edible.

As a result, this has made me a complete crumb-crazy person. I either eat all of my food, or I am sure to take it home and eat it later. Leftovers DO NOT ROT in my fridge (unless they are not mine or they were really not super tasty), and if by chance they do, I labor over the decision to trash them for maybe 15 minutes.

Snippets

Yesterday I saw something really interesting.

A new "international" grocery store opened up at the old Thriftway on Walnut. As I was driving home around 6:30, I saw two men on motorized wheelchairs riding home with their groceries, with a woman on foot trailing behind them. That was kind of interesting, but what I was really looking at was the 20-lb bag of rice that one man was balancing on his head as he scooted up Locust Street.

I guess it just feels like a heavy hat.
--

Uly came to visit last weekend. Friday afternoon I spent with my Frenchie girls, and Friday evening we went out. Vietnamese pho house, fruit shakes, and then two of my favorite bars: Nodding Head (for its brews) and McGlinchy's (for its Ms. PacMan, of course). Saturday was a family-filled day. First, Oregon with Nati, then Home Depot, beer distributor, Pathmark, and nap time at home. Uly and I passed out while Nati watched Family Guy. We made it to Neel's on time for the surprise, and ate SO MUCH GOOD BRAZILIAN FOOD. Yum. We had managed to find a case of Brazilian beer also, so we were boozing it up with beer and margaritas.

Fat family weekend.
--

...And now a rant from our sponsors:
It is a horrible thing to feel unsupported by close friends. It is a horrible thing to have to resort to asking for help from people from whom it should be readily given, and even worse to then be denied. Every time that I encounter someone who adheres to a radically different set of social norms from mine, I freak out, and I don't hold it in. Idon't see why I should, unless I feel physically threatened, and sometimes I do.
With every person in your life, you achieve a level of comfort, a set of expectations, some sort of boundaries. When that level changes, when that set is not met, when those boundaries are moved, it is upsetting.
For whatever reason, I have had several friends who were members of my peer group pass away early in life. At the first funeral I attended, I felt strongly to say everything important out loud to anyone who matters to me, and since then, I have made concerted efforts to do so. People don't understand why I am like I am, why I demand what I demand, and this is part of it. I am such a product of my experiences.

Cindy it was always you...

Watching less-than-mediocre sitcoms on the WB led me to reminisce about that feeling you can only get from that person.

Memorable to me:
Running by the tennis courts into the bushes, and he got all scratched up by the branches.
The 8th Grade Dinner Dance: I can still feel the shoulders of your too-big-suit-jacket, I can still smell Safari on your neck.
I remember his hugs because they always felt like he cared, though we weren't that close, and now he's gone.
He was so nervous to meet my parents! He changed his shirt in the car.
I felt like no matter how badly things seemed to everyone else, it was still better be with him, and he felt the same way.
He was my best friend. He taught me how to know if a guy respected me (and then showed me what it's like when he doesn't).

When was the last time I had that feeling?
I'm not sure. I might have thought that it was in November, but now I think that it's been a couple years.
I don't remember the last time my heart was racing, my lips were dry, my throat was closed, my stomach was in knots. It may be a while.

Cindy, it was always you
It was you I wanted, too
Now you leave me haunted
-- Steve Wynn

Snippets of my weekend

I like this Stan Beer guy.

That's just silly though. I think this is actually interesting.
Robin Givhan is sassy and witty.

My brother brought these guys to my attention. One day....

My "Man Hands"?

Last night I worked at a wedding in North Philly at a church. The service and the reception were both in the church, which means that the party was in the cafeteria. Very romantic. I feel lucky again to have had a hard working staff, though it was a hard set up and break down, the party itself was a pretty simple buffet.

There were three people who work for the church at the event:

• Mr. Security Guard (who must have brought his own flask, because our bar did not serve him, yet he was completely toasted, enough so to put his arm around me and speak to my cleavage)
• Non-descript-Temple-MBA-Student Facilities Manager (who was fairly unhelpful, and did not, in fact, know how to manage the facilities)
• Ray Liotta Look-alike (who was wearing a gray and white tracksuit and had a bad haircut that was too long)

I know that it seems that I am a bit critical of these people, but hey, that's me being honest.
Mr. Security Guard at least knew how to work the lights and refridgerator. Temple MBA and Ray Liotta's redeeming quality was that they helped us bring up the tables and chairs. Also, Ray Liotta called several cabs for guests who had come in from hotels in the city. Here is the problem with Ray Liotta:

After several short, work-related conversations (how do I turn off the stage lights, where is the switch for the hallway light, where do I put the tables, someone needs a cab, etc.), he found me sitting while filling out the paperwork, and told me that I am beautiful and am I mixed, because he is mixed Korean and Italian, and I look mixed. These questions always make me feel a bit funny. I responded in the affirmative, yes, I am mixed Chinese and Mexican. He found this very interesting and asked me if I knew my parents, assuming that I am adopted, and I was taken aback, so I responded that I had lived with them, they are my parents. He understood, and said that he was adopted. We then had to mop the floor and move some tables, so the conversation was put on hold. It resumed just as I was about to leave with Helen, Helen the Hard Worker, when he called me over and asked if I had a boyfriend, and could he have my number. I thought about this for a split second and quickly replied "I don't know."

I don't know? What does that even mean. Well, he also was unsure of what that meant, so he asked again if I would give him my number, and I said I don't think so. He said that he understood, and that it was nice to meet me, and that he hopes he runs into me someday.

What was that about? I found him interesting looking -- Ray Liotta with a Korean wash. The hair was pretty unflattering, but not so bad that it would actually turn me away. The track suit in general does not make a good impression on me, especially when in one's place of business, and when in view of a wedding, but also not enough to turn me away completely. In the end, I realize this time and time again, I am unattracted by people who find me physically attractive without having known my personality. I think this is partly because I really hate the feeling of being rejected or having a relationship fizzle after getting to know me personally. I am so much more comfortable being rejected physically than for who I am on the inside. This is why I expect such loyalty and reliability from people who last in my life. If they were going to reject me, they should have rejected me in the beginning, when things were shallow or not yet intimate, not after we have become friends.

My version of Jerry's "man hands" is someone who expresses their physical attraction to me before being attracted to Me.

P. S. Happy Mother's Day

I have creepy travel dreams

Last night I was dreaming that I was at a friend's party in Colorado or something, where my dad had dropped me off, and all of the lights were off in the house. Well, my friend had turned off the lights in the areas where we would be. Her mom had the light on in the kitchen, where she was playing with her kitten in the trash can.

I followed my friend in the dark to the room where a bunch of people were hanging out. It was a nondescript room with a large bed on one side, and a couch facing it on the other. I was in high school, and the other people there were in high school as well, but were not necessarily people with whom I went to high school.

I was sitting on the bed with some friends who were too close for comfort (boys). They told me that I had huge monkey feet. This did not turn me on. I put the sheet over my head. One boy started kissing my sheeted head. This also did not turn me on, so I told him to stop because this was grossing me out.

When I took off the sheet, it turned out to be one of my x-mans. That made me super grossed out in my subconscious that was not leading me in the dream, and in the dream I was grossed out because apparantly I thought that he was too young for me (though everyone was in high school and I didn't know how old anyone was), and I said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Ew, I would never let you kiss me, I am like thirty and you are like ten."
Neither of us were those ages, but that's all I could come up with I guess. I left the room and went outside, where suddenly it was afternoon and not nighttime.

The house was in a neighborhood on a hill, where the architectural style was Ancient Rome. As I walked up the hill along the cobblestone path, I ran into two ogre neighbors and their very dirty black labs. I said hello politely and moved on up the path towards the gated entrance to the state park. People were renting canoes, tents, snow shoes, and bikes. This park seemed really cool, but the gates were closing in like exactly 2 minutes so I had to leave, or I would have to spend the night in the park.

Leaving the park, I ran into my mom in a car. She was there to pick me up. Her hair was gray. We drove downtown to a large intersection, where she had to let me out to do something shady, and I was supposed to wait for her. I did wait, then I saw her across the street, sitting at the bus stop, wearing sunglasses. In case you don't know, my mom is not shady and does not have gray hair or wear sunglasses. Anyway, we met up across the street and she gave me a box of cereal that I was supposed to eat, because that is all she could get since we were in Spain and she doesn't really know Spanish.

Then Kitty woke me up and it was 5:45 am.

Oh, Friday night.

Today was interesting because I made plans with several people, and then cancelled them all so that I could stay home with Mr. Kitty and watch nothing good on non-cable tv. By the way, what are we calling that these days? Jordo and I used to call it Poverty TV, but now I think that I generally refer to it as broadcast tv. I just want to make sure that we are on the same page here. My version of the FoodNetwork and Travel Channel is WYBE, with its "Simply Ming," "America's Test Kitchen," and "Globe Trekker." Anyway, I am not even watching this, I am watching the sequel to "Legally Blonde" on FOX. I'm a winner.

I am just exhausted! I fell asleep last night before eleven. Before Sex [and the City]! Last night at ESL, I taught how to form a yes or no question with the helping verb, "do."

Ex.
Q: Do you eat three meals each day? A: Yes, I do eat three meals each day.
Q: Does he walk to school? A: No, he doesn't walk to school.

Today, [at school in third grade] Miss Dayzha asked me in reference to Mike, "Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
To which I responded, in question, "Doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, what?"
"Don't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Doesn't he?"
"Yeah."
"That's not what you said. I don't understand what you said."
"Do he have... do he... doesn't he have 2 more pages to do?"
"Oh, doesn't he have 2 more pages to do? Well, that's not really your business, why don't you ask him yourself and see if he wants to answer you."
I am teaching English to people who are labeled as non-English Speakers, while the Native English Speakers sound AWFUL.

This construction is like nails on a chalkboard to me:
"Are you done your homework?"
"Yes, I been done my homework." "I'm done my homework, too."

NO!
"Are you done with your homework?"
"Yes, I finished my homework so long ago." "I'm done with my homework, too."

I'm sure I have blogged on my fear of the extinction of the preposition, "with," but this is tiring me today. This, and the fact that I have swimming at 9am tomorrow, followed by a wedding at 1pm, and it is likely to rain. Fab.

Anyway, I'm going to go wallow in my sorrows over the state of public education and watch me some good ole' PBS (well, some smutty FOX/NBC followed by PBS).

Addicted.

I am addicted to books. Books, among other things.
Last weekend, I went to my favorite used bookstore.
I went looking for books as gifts for my favorite 3rd graders and for Ryry. The problem is that I want to have more and more children's books.

Last week, Erin and I were reminiscing about "The Story About Ping," when she reminded me about "Outside Over There."

On a side note, dolphins are so cool they have special whistles.

Also, this is what is going on in my head:
I will see The Early November this summer. If it kills me, I will see them.
July 11, Troc.

Mister is back!

Sunday night, Mister and I watched the season finale of Jordan together in bed. He let me snuggle with him until he fell asleep with his little paw on my shoulder, just like my little fur baby.
Not my dirt baby.

Anyway, I came across this word that I like: otiose.

A lot has transpired in the past 10 days, but it is just too.

Happy Birthday Ma.

I Self-Loathe

I am sitting at home instead of with all of you because I am sad that if I had invited you instead, you wouldn't have come. So, instead of just being with you, I am just being with me. No Kitty, no roommate, no Death, no Poofer, no Mommy. No excuse, no work.

I am sitting at home instead of your home because you don't want me there.

I am sitting at home instead of not sitting at home because at the funeral, she said, "She sent her Surprise boxes to make it evident that we were in her thoughts."

I want it to be evident that I am in your thoughts.

It's not too much, I've decided, it's just me.

I can't ask you to change because it makes me feel worse.

youcanlaugh
aspinelesslaugh
wehopethatyourrulesandwisdomchokeyou
nowweareone
ineverlastingpeace

Pooped Out

After signing into my Google home page, I took a look at one of the sections, "'How-to' of the Day," for which the first listing was "How to Stop Cutting Yourself." Ladies and Gents, it's no joke. I wonder if it reaches anyone whom it may help.

Anyways...

I had a long day yesterday, and another today. Catering, babysitting, and then falling asleep at Roommate's. Today: catering at 9am, having to unload 40 chairs from the truck because my coworker is an older woman, having to load 40 chairs onto the truck because my coworker is an elderly woman, and returning to the shop, only to find that it is closed. Jamal instructed me to go buy a padlock to lock the truck, which I did, and then I took home all of the leftover sandwiches. Now I am at home, I have showered, and I have 32 turkey-cranberry-sauce-on-wheat finger sandwiches.

Now, if I only had HBO (so as to watch Sopranos in bed with all of my sandwiches), I would be in heaven. At least I have taken off tomorrow from school.

I miss Mister. He pays a lot of attention to me, and I to him.

Three Hour Nap

Yessir, that is what I did today. I left work early because Mike didn't actually make it to school after his mom's wedding rehearsal dinner, so I just sat around and read The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood. Tay and I are going to start reading the 4th book in the Lemony Snicket series though. I have to catch up to chapter 5 this weekend. I booked Erin tonight, so we went to see the end of Sustaining. I suppose we were a bit too casually late, because as we arrived, they had been shut down by the police for a noise complaint. Shor did grace me with the beginning of "Everything in its right place" as I was leaving. No throwing up tonight. That's the end of that. Time for me to clean up and prepare for some Fear Factor (only on at 3am now).

Currently on rotation:
I'm Going Down Mary J. Blige*
More Than a Love Song Augustana
We've Got Tonight Bob Seager

*I had to listen, because on my way to the 46th St. subway tonight, I walked by a Unisex Salon (still open at 9pm on Friday night). There were about 10-15 teenagers standing beneath the entrance light, listening to one girl throw down her version of Mary J, and she was awesome. It was so WPhil, so back in the day. I felt like such a voyeur.

Maybe you don't know...

that sometimes you act like her mother, instead of her friend -- and not the way that I am FranMom, but the way that is like Overbearing-Backseatdriver-You'll-understand-when-you're-older Mom. We are all competent. We are all living and learning.

Also, last night was amazing. I drank 2 Golden Monkeys, now the bain of my existance, and gracefully threw up in the middle of the bar WITHOUT ANYONE NOTICING. That was so weird. Then, the guy whom I had asked to draw my portrait with my icky face (tongue sticking out, one eye scrunched) started making my face at me. It was at that moment that I told Joe we had to leave.

ISO

I don't remember who it was the other day who asked the group, "What does 'ISO' stand for?" To which Hobag and I replied, almost in unison, "In Search Of."

This is the vocabulary of a particular group of single college grads. The grammar is comprised of life-shaping lists, verbs derived from nouns, and questions with no answers.

My ISO:

Someone who...
can do the crossword as a team
will eat all-you-can-eat buffet
sings at the top of their lungs in the middle of the bar
will notice if I am not happy
will squeeze my hand at just the right moment, or any moment
appreciates etiquette
works hard
attempts to plan
makes me feel special (cliche, I know), rather than routine
will not make me feel silly for reading children's books
wants to walk instead of drive
will teach me things that I cannot find in books.

I think that's it for now.

To my nearest and dearest:

You will never know my deepest, darkest me, because I am afraid that you will judge me beyond my level of toleration. You almost already do. All of your advice I take to heart, and it makes me and breaks me, and if you really knew, you would be sad. I want to tell you everything, but that makes me crazy to you and then I find another body to sponge me up, then it explodes. So, in her words,

You'll say you understand
But you don't understand
You'll say you'll never give up seeing eye to eye
But never is a promise and you can't afford to lie
You'll never touch these things that I hold
The skin of my emotions lies beneath my own
You'll never feel the heat of this soul
My fever burns me deeper than I've ever shown to you

In conclusion, this is why I can have "those" relationships, despite the fact that they make me swell and burst, and why "these" are the ones that provide me with chronic arthritis.

Stupid sleep

Surprise... I am an eternal optimist. You wouldn't always know it. I sometimes try to hide it. It's that whole if-I-want-less-I-will-be-happier-with-what-I-have thing. I dunno. Sometimes it works. I sometimes deliberately leave my monitor on so that gmail may catch my eye as it rises and falls in the corner of my screen, tempting me with a snippet of something. This is what caught me tonight:

Sustaining Simple says, "Goodbye, we'll see you in Hell"...
and
Jourdan would like to be added as one of your friends...

Both were long-lost contacts. Of course, even with my blurry evening eyesight, I could read that, and I had to get up to see what it was. Apparently Sustaining Simple is dying this weekend, and Jourdan R. has resurrected himself on myspace, where he has created a digital tie with the minor celebrity, Dottie O of Newark/Glen Ridge fame, who has recently linked up with one of the Kevins, rekindling an MKA flame. I half find it cute, half vomit. Anyway, now I can't sleep, and the hours until I must rise for work (6:30ish) are quickly depleting. Blah. Commere. Entertain me. I miss you. I miss my Mister Kitty.

When was my last best...

meal?
The first time Kit and I went to Majestic Buffet for dinner. Fried salt and pepper shrimp. Dragon roll. Xi mi yu tou. Cold jellyfish. Beef on stick.

kiss?
That time I was in your room and I shivered afterwards. You didn't, but I did.

crush?
Ahhh... not many months ago there was a pretty good one, but I would say that before that, my favorite and most memorable was back in the day of Landua and his skateboard. What a dork I am.

breakup?
I am sure that this will be my best breakup forever in my life. We were on the way to the airport. Conversation was not our priority in that early morning. As we pulled up to your stop, I said, "Have a good vacation." You replied, "You too." "I'll see you around." "Yeah." No extraneous words, no unrequited feelings.

run?
Spring track, Colonial Hills Conference, junior year (?). I felt like an old fart, running the mile with a bunch of froshies and sophomores. It seems as though each year weeded out a few more runners from returning. I ran an even race, keeping my pace and not trying to expend too much energy in the first 800, but I really picked it up from the middle of the pack around the 1000 mark, and caught up to the girl lumbering around 8th/9th place. Three of us were close then, one girl edged quickly ahead, spurred on by the sudden competition. Big Girl and I ran next to eachother for the last 200, hugging that curve without squeezing eachother, and at the finish line, we were both huffing (well, mine has always been more of a rhythmic wheezing that sounds like the asthma that I don't have), and I leaned her out! Her coach was at the sideline next to mine, and as mine was congratulating my lean, hers was berating her for letting my torso beat hers. Ha ha.

game?
Senior year high school, last regular season field hockey game. Everyone was pulling so hard to rally, for the best possible end to the best season in years. We lost. Practically everyone was crying. Then we had to ride the bus home, with everyone bitching at everyone else. But it was the best.

party?
Our summer party in the 3941 Chestnut Brothel! I was the house Madame. I can hear our Southern Belle now: "Am I a tease?" and I replied in my head, "Yes, but only until the lights are off." Mudslides, Coladas, and slushie everythings. Honey Brown bottles. People everywhere. I don't even remember if I had a hookup that night. No doubt it must have been unmemorable, if it did exist. Sorry bub. I vaguely remember my home fries driving down for the fiesta. Pancake breakfast! That was the best. I miss being the house mom.

oh you're so trendy i want to throw up

on you.

arctic monkeys. americorps. andy milonakis. wearing tan uggs with minis...still. diets named after people or places. the editors. illegal mexicans who act like americans with rights, but are really illegal mexicans. guys who walk their dogs so they can watch girls bend over and coo. tom cruise. jennifer aniston acting in anything that is not called friends. being a paralegal. fake retro tshirts. wearing two polo shirts at the same time. three-day concert events. hips don't lie. turning casual friday into casual thursdayfriday. sonya kitchell. l&o and all of your spinoffs.

that doesn't mean i hate you.
but it probably does.

Things People Have Said to Me

"Are you pregnant?"

"Your hair looks nappy."

"I'm 32, but five years ago I died, so I'm actually 27."

"I'd like to save the world's forests."

"Stop killing my buzz!"

"Isn't that your little sister?" [motioning to Kit]

"Is your name Mrs. Teletubby?"

"Men don't use lotion."

Attila the Hun

Last night I met Attila the Hun at Millcreek Tavern. He was very polite about telling me that I was very attractive, and that my parents created a beautiful combination. [wretch, but gentlemanly] Mind you, I was having an ugly day yesterday, not having dried my hair after swimming and wearing my basketball team shirt and almost too-white jeans. I told him that I was waiting for someone, though I was not, and proceded to sit at the bar and stare at the wall.

This is the best part. He told me that he was in town talking to publishers about the book he had finished while living in Atlanta. I engaged him. I asked him what it was about.
This is what he said:
"A little telekinetics, a bit of metaphysics, and some psychology. But I don't want to let out too much until I'm sure the book is a go."


I lost a winner that evening.

dirty dream

i had some kind of dirty dream 2 nights ago.

actually, i can't tell you. i thought it would make me feel better to relieve myself on my blog, but i told erin and now i just want to keep it to myself.

let's just say that it was inappropriate.

My Life in Songs

EGo recently did this meme. I don't usually copy like this, but my brain is fried from being a Tuesday Bum.

Go into your music player of choice (with the most songs) and shuffle the list. Answer the following questions with the song titles, using them in order.

How does the world see me?
Song: K's Choice, "Everything for Free"
Comments: I feel more like SuperWalmart sometimes.

Will I have a happy life?
Song: Ours, "Miseryhead"
Comments: It could have been worse, I guess.

What do my friends really think of me?
Song: Queen, "Bicycle Race"
Comments: This is an apt selection.

Do people secretly lust after me?
Song: Tears for Fears, "Shout"
Comments: I guess not...maybe?

How can I make myself happy?
Song: GnR, "Sweet Child of Mine"
Comments: I reminisce.

What should I do with my life?
Song: Black Label Society, "In this River"
Comments: Quite uplifting.

Why should life be full of so much pain?
Song: Dinosaur Jr., "Just Like Heaven"
Comments: Ah, something to look forward to. Actually, this sounds like a few years of my life already.

How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
Song: Notorious B.I.G., "Notorious"
Comments: Go ahead.

Will I ever have children?
Song: Youssou N'Dour and Cannibus, "How Come"
Comments: I'm not really sure of this message.

Will I die happy?
Song: LL Cool J, "I Need Love"
Comments: Well, no shit.

What is some good advice for me?
Song: Zapp and Roger, "Computer Love"
Comments: Why, is that your face I see on the computer screen? Hobag, Roommate and I already tried this. I met a really nice guy on Rants and Raves, but he ended up being very serious about dating. I figure he must have been a midget or something.

What is happiness?
Song: Brandi Carlile, "Throw It All Away"
Comments: Yes.

What is my favorite fetish?
Song: La Ley, "Sin tu Amor"
Comments: In some weird way, I think this is right on the money.

How will I be remembered?
Song: Scorpions, "Rock You Like a Hurricane"
Comments: I would like this. Bombastic, energetic, wild, natural and real. Something all crazy like that. Dunno.

Lessons My Father Taught Me: 02

"You open a door, you close a door."

How many times did I endure that message. Let's see what else can be turned on/off or opened/closed...
lights
television
cabinets
drawers
packages of food
windows
radio
computers
car locks
car windows
closets

Now, this rule applied to me, definitely, but ask me if my dad ever had every tv or radio in each room of the house on so that he could hear Rush Limbaugh as he went from upstairs to down.

Fuck, I'm OLD

I have fourth graders in the computer room right now, and some of the eighth grade boys' basketball team just came in. They are, of course, the tallest, most popular, and most mature looking guys in the school. They also think they are the shit, and like to say it.
I asked one of them to "watch his language," to which he replied, "Yes ma'am."

I
am
a
Ma'am.

Lessons My Father Taught Me: 01

This is the beginning of a new themed post.

Always keep yourself moisturized/hydrated.

This addresses several issues:

• chapped lips
• dry skin (face and body)
• dehydration and the related issues: headaches, cramps, fatigue, sore throat, nosebleeding, mood changes, itches

When I was very young, my father would drop me off at school, and before I would jump out of the AeroStar and onto the playground, I would use the carchapstick and say goodbye to my dad ("See ya later, alligator!" "After a while, crocodile!" "See you soon, you big baboon!" "Anytime, lemon-lime!" "Okie-dokie, smokie!"). It was a twice-daily routine. He made it clear that it was imperative that my lips not be chapped. If he were to catch me licking my lips he would snap for me to stop and immediately give me chapstick.

An extention of this moisture craze was the Morning Glass of Water. Every morning when I awoke, I would be greeted by both the sun and a parent, toting the Morning Glass of Water. I drank that water before I spoke some days. On others, I would protest, but I always had to have water in the morning, and water after school. Before bed, water (or warm milk, when I was unable to fall asleep). Water was the cure for many ailments. Most complaints that I had would be met with a glass of water first, then possible medication, rest, or food afterwards.
Always, always, water first.

The next way to maintain proper hydration, if not from the inside (via water) or for ailing lips, would be to use lotion. Ashy limbs, dry or chapped hands were unacceptable. Also, dry skin on your face is unseemly.

elaboration on: Hate Mail

ok, ryan to the third power, you have called me out.

lemme splain.

yes, i did express to the person that i did not desire to reinflate a past friendship.
this is after over 3 years of NO CONTACT with this person.
this is after this person betrayed the friendship, did not apologize, and poisoned another friendship.
this is after this person was an asshole, said and wrote mean things, and did not apologize sufficiently.

anyway, this is just a person who was once in my life, and is now not, and that is super.

fyi: there is a new blank billboard on 95. i'm excited to see what happens.

Hate Mail

Remember when I told you that people call me uggo?

People also tell me how they dislike me.

Direct quote from an email:

"Ok fine. You suck."

I've been meaning to share that with you for a while now.

Dear X-men,

I'll admit that we tried/succeeded/failed/never were but could have been, and you sucked/rocked/blew me off/sang/danced/worked out/threw me away/got fat/ate my food/were an ass/were wasted.
At one time, we were friends/in love/not really into it/bored/confused.
Now, I pretty much remember the good/bad/ugly/shitty/ok/lukewarm times.
I wish we could erase it/go back/never have been/change one thing/change everything/run away.
I never want to talk to you again/miss you/wonder if you miss me/miss talking to you/think you're an ass, still.

Grow up/Shut up/Stop crying/Be my friend/Go away.


--Fran

America's Next Top Model

I was going to write another letter post, but this was distracting me...

He likes to nap on the monitor because it's warm. How do you not love him?
Anyway, I don't feel like telling you about more stuff that I think is wack right now...except for this:

I am a twenty-something, full-time employed college grad who is not desperately seeking marriage. It's not that I want to have several wild oats sowed in me, or that I need more time to "experiment," but I am completely not ready to start a new and complicated life when the one I have is still a bit unsteady.
I still have to set my career path and finish more school. I live like a college student still, roommate, ramen, rock posters and all. I am an adult not yet ready to start a whole other family. Can you imagine that? Having more family? That is so intense. I feel unfinished in a way that will not be satisfied with another person, just me and what I can do.

So that's what's up.
Word.

Dear Crazy Teacher Colleagues,

Please get rid of that black sweatsuit you have with a teacher-themed border running up each leg and each sleeve. The apples and chalkboards are not cute.

Please eat a lunch that includes at least ONE of the following:

1. real sugar (instead of aspartame)
2. real salt (instead of imitation sodium products)
3. real fat (instead of oleo)
4. real vegetables (instead of over-processed mystery vegetable diet meals)
5. real fruit (instead of completely synthetic gel-like fruit-flavored concoction on which you spray imitation whipped cream)
6. real butter/oil (instead of spraying i can't believe it's not butter on your fake vegetables)

Please do not wear button down shirts, because it is unattractive when the buttons come off.

Please learn how to use your ruler. 10mm = 1 cm.

Please cut your claws -- I mean nails. You may be scaring the children.

Please stop coming to work with your headset on, talking from being on the highway in your car until you pick up your kids from the schoolyard.

Youz cray-dizzle.

That's all I have to say about that.

-- Miss Fran

Dear 95N Billboard Makers,

You try very hard to grab my attention.
I can tell, because the BudLight girl is nearly naked.
Also, the new red billboard that says, "[something very tiny that I cannot read] DIRTY BALLS" is quite intriguing.

Thank you for entertaining me on my way to work every morning between exits 23 and 30.
Perhaps you entertain me a bit too much.

Dr. Pistone is very confusing to me. The picture clearly demonstrates how he previously had fly-away combover hair, and now has a lush head of silver-gray. Should I pronounce his name as, "PIE-stone" or "piston"? I prefer the stone of pies. But I definitely spend too much time every single morning thinking about that.

Anyway, thanks. Looking forward to what you bring over the summer.

FrannyD

Heather, I must really love you to wear those turquoise heels with fishnets in the middle of January.

You can't see them here, but I promise I did wear them on Heather's birthday celebration #239 at Irish.

Dear Bad Drivers,

Why do you weave back and forth between the two lanes of Walnut Street during rush hour?
Did you think that the bus would suddenly move more quickly and become shorter?
Also, here's a tip: do NOT park on Walnut by Rittenhouse when it is VALET ONLY.
If I had not just had my front bumper and hood replaced, I would totally ram you from behind.
Rear end you, if you will.
Maybe I will cut you and stop short instead.

I hate you.
Bye.

like she's born in black and white

took the day off.
needed a day.
watching kitty chase his tail on top of the monitor.
found out that the ring isn't covered, and is going to run me $42/month....
i'll be a student soon enough, and insurance plans don't want students to be preggers.

yesterday, the youngest gay boy i know told me,
"miss fran, tomorrow i want to see your long hair just down and flowing. ponytails are so yesterday."

i know i have been away from blogging, but that doesn't mean i haven't been thinking about it a lot. i have a series of "letters" to write in the near future. one has been posted for your viewing pleasure.

also, hobag -- i still cannot post comments on your blog. you may want to look into that, because i have funny and interesting things to say. one thing is that since dawn weiner, heather matarazzo has been in a movie about glen ridge where she plays a retarded high schooler, scream 3 (in which she played the movie nerd's surviving younger sister), roseanne (as d.j.'s weirdo friend who likes documentaries), and saved (mandy moore's loser pushover friend who stands up in the end). among others.

time to end a non-productive day with some wb.

p.s.
i no longer go to bed with joe rogan, because fear factor was moved to 3AM instead of 1AM!
sucky mcsuckerson for me.

on current rotation:

what can i say brandi carlile
i want to hear you sad the early november
suddenly i see k t tunstall
sin tu amor la ley

Dearest Little Friend,

Sometimes I think you are such a chicken shit.
You have great dreams, but you're building a shitty reality.
Do you have priorities? Do you change them on a whim?
Suck it up and do what you know you need to do.
Stop blaming nothing for everything and yourself for nothing.
Everything you do is your fault -- everything great and everything shitty.
You are both great and shitty.

Bye.

pip squeaks

in art, we have these little kid markers called "pip squeaks," and they have the silliest names.
a few of my favorites...

little boy blue
teensy teal
golden nugget
raspberry squirt

follow-up

i like to ambiguously bitch about everyone i know, and FYI, JACK WAS A REAL DUDE AND I AM LIL.
how shitty is that?
jack, you're a jack.

also:
i have a lot of things that i am throwing away since i have moved. if you want random shit (including plastic shelves), come and get it by my dumpster.

cradle robber

i think this kid in my class is flirting with me sometimes, and it creeps me out.
the other day he started playing with my hair, so i think he is either 3rd-grade flirting or gay-ish.
dunno.
if i were in 3rd grade, i would totally be into him though, because he is cool, but he follows directions and isn't stupid.

"jack" and little lil

once upon a time, little lil had a friend named "jack." "jack" was very smart, and very kind. he was not, however, physically attractive to little lil. she was not a small girl, and was not attracted to small boys. she liked boys who could huff, and puff, and blow a house down. so, "jack" and lil were just very good friends.

one time, when "jack" wasn't feeling well, lil went to visit him to cheer him up. the next day, "jack" said to lil,
"you did not do a good job of cheering me up."
lil was a bit disappointed, but she thought that maybe he was cranky from being on so many different drugs.

"jack's" birthday was coming up. "jack" was going to have a party with his family. he invited lil. then, the next day, he said,
"i think it would be better if you do not come to my family party, and instead i will see you the next day."
lil was a bit disappointed, but she thought that maybe his birthday party was something he only wanted to share with family, and lil was not in his family.

for "jack's" birthday, lil decided to do something very special and draw "jack" a picture of her most favorite place to sit -- the rose garden down the street. when she gave it to him, he said,
"oh. i hate rose gardens, and i do not like looking at pictures of them."
this upset lil so much, that she said in return,
"you are very smart, but you are not very kind. i am tired of you telling me how badly i am as your friend. let's not be friends any more."

and they never were friends again.

tangled surprise

why do i have to say everything out loud?
why don't you hear me say it before i say it?

you get to write off your life to being lazy
you cop out
you are pretentious
you hate pretentious
i need help
why won't you help me? do i not deserve it? do i not offer it in return?

did you forget me?
i need you
so i hate you
but i love you
and you forgot me

i showed this to you you thought it was uggo
now you show it to me i think you're uggo

there's dust on my guitar
and it's all your fault