Fried-Day..

Lots of people at my work have started tanning, and some bloggers have mentioned it as well, so I decided it was time for me to leave behind my glowing white, spider-veined legs, and opt for the lobster with freckles look.

OK, well, that wasn't my exact intention. I kind of forgot about the freckles I would soon sport after excessive UV exposure, and didn't plan on burning.

The first time, the nice young chap who sold me on my (overpriced?) package put me in the standard, twenty minute bed for five (!) minutes. Turns out that was wise of the boy, though I never would have thought I could trust a 20-something guy who really seemed proud that his main source of income was working full time in a tanning salon. I stand corrected.

After my first tan, which was a piece of 5-minute cake, he got me all signed up and explained that for the next nine days, I could use ANY bed that I wanted without paying the upgrade fees. You know, to check out all they have to offer. Well. OK then.

The next day, I returned and was placed in the "Turbo" bed with facial tanner. I giggle like a pubescent boy when I hear the word "facial", so after I bit my bottom lip to suppress it, the nice career-tanner explained how to work the bed. Again,
my time limit was five (!) minutes, and again, wise choice. I was a teeny-tiny bit pink, but not bad at all. My lips did feel like they were being burned off with a blow torch, but all was well after I figured out out to turn off the facial (tee-hee!) bulbs. And it had a built in "Turbo" fan. Very nice, because, ew, I didn't want to go back to fluorescent hell all stinky.

Today, I returned for my third session. This time, body-building-tan-man must have been on lunch, as a young girl assisted me. She asked what bed I wanted and I shrugged my shoulders.

"OK, how about the bed that massages your back?"

"Um. OK." Perhaps it would bring some relief to my bastard shoulderblade, I thought.

"OK. We'll do six minutes each side, because you have to flip over. And it gets pretty hot."

???

Now, I personally think that all tanning beds are hot, and if there is not a fan blowing full blast on me, I won't make it through the session. Guaranteed. And if this girl, who clearly spends a lot of time tanning, thinks it's hot, well, I'm in trouble.

But I am a trooper and tried not to flinch when she said that and tried not to flinch again when I saw this contraption she was speaking of. It was way to space-agey for me, and it didn't have a top that you can just flip open when you are done. It had a button. That you had to push. To raise it back up after it was done cooking you. Now, for most people, this would not be an issue. But for me, she-with-the-most-irrational-fears-possible, this was a problem. Because, what if, WHAT IF the button broke? And I couldn't get out. And the bulbs wouldn't shut off. And my insides were charbroiled to a crisp. My lips probably really WOULD burn off, and I'm kind of partial to my lips. Wow. Did you say this thing get hot? Because I'm already burning up.






"...and I know it says 20 minutes, but it will really only be 12" (are you sure) "and you just have to keep an eye on it" (but you aren't supposed to open your EYES in the tanning bed!) "and flip over after 6" (what if I don't flip over in time?) "and here is how you turn the massager on and off. OK! Enjoy."

O.K.

I stripped of my clothing (no tan lines!), applied my hemp bronzing cream, pushed the start button and got in. I heard the bulbs first, and it seemed that the brightness and temperature were just going to keep intensifying. Then the fan kicked on, which relaxed me a bit. Next I felt something move (ack!), but it was only the massager. Which was very nice, it kept me distracted, and my shoulderblade did feel a little better. Soon I started getting paranoid about turning over. I actually turned over about 5 minutes in. I turned off the massager (frontal massages are weird unless they are from Mr.) and tried to relax. With no more distraction from the massager, all I could think about was how HOT it was. And if my legs were burning, because they sure felt like they were burning. I checked the timer (my eyes!) at least six times. Finally, I decided I couldn't take it any more, and shut it down at 10 minutes.

Must to my relief, the bulbs went dark and the top began to rise. Of course, I had to wait until it was completely up to get out because, well, what IF you aren't supposed to touch it, and I bumped it and the bulbs shattered and rained hot glass
particles all over my naked being? (Did I mention the irrational fear of tanning beds that I have?) I stood up and my face was RED and my butt was RED and my neck was RED and my belly was RED and my thighs were RED, and, oh, you get the idea. I blotted off (I don't sweat very much, really) and slowly got dressed.

I am a little more pink, and my thighs feel sore and my lips hurt. I don't think I'll be using the massage-a-tan bed again.

I will be taking the weekend off from tanning anyway, so I think I'll survive.

I'll just stick with getting a facial (hee!) from the "Turbo" bed.

It's safer that way.

It's a Bright, Bright, Sunshiny Day...

I wish I would have played hooky today.

The sun is shining (at least it was when I got here) and it is going to be warmer than I originally heard. In general, a nice spring day.

My shoulder is still effin killing me.

But because my desk (read: table) is not like this:

there really isn't much I can do about it.

My concentration level is still off. Things to worry about, things I find to worry about, things I make up to worry about are all factors here. That and the fact that I think I am just ca-razy...

People who know me will agree.

I think I just need to locate one of these after work today.

T-effin-G-I-F.

Pain, Drunkenness and Poo. In that order...

The pinch in my shoulder blade is still there, if anyone cares. I'm sitting here smelling like Vick's Vaporub because I had Mr. stick one of those stinky Icy Hot pads on the offending muscle/nerve/whatever. I don't think it is helping, but my nasal passages are nice and clear from inhaling the menthol all morning. I am not enjoying smelling like an old person though.



A bit of advice to the single ladies...

If you have just recently started seeing a new guy, who just recently got out of a bad relationship because the previous woman was too immature to handle the relationship, dO NOT sit at the bar all afternoon after blowing off work when you have already made dinner plans with said guy. That is not such a good impression. You know, especially the part where you pass out after returning home and don't hear him knocking on your door for 20 minutes. Seriously.



D-pup's poo seems to be better. Of course we thought that yesterday and then she had a relapse. She has a vet appointment scheduled for today that we can cancel, should she decide to stay solid. They didn't seem overly concerned when Mr. called, so that's good. I think it's from all the damned acorns she eats. They're everywhere. I keep trying to explain to her that she is not a squirrel, but she just won't hear it. Denial.


Happy HNT. Maybe one of these weeks I'll actually post a picture for it.

My first beading project evah....

And yes, I am bored today, and this is my camera phone.

Wonderful quality.

Did someone send you flowers?

No.

Can't I buy myself flowers?

Fake flowers at that.

Five pounds of screaming sleepless nights...

Annoying girl at my work: "Hey j! Come here and look at new pictures of the BAAAAY-BEEEEEEEE." (Referring to some relative of hers whom I don't know who just had a premature baby boy, while I'm on my way to the bathroom. Of course.)

leans over desk to obligingly look at pictures on computer

AGAMW: "Isn't he cute?"

j: "Yeah. Cute."

AGAMW: (preparing for light-speed speech) "I just can'tbelievehowlittleheisiandheisdoingsogoodandis5poundsnow - ohsupervisorladycomehereandlookandthenewpicturesihaveofhtebaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybeeee...."

Supervisor girl: "Oh. How much does he way?"

AGAMW: "5 pounds! Can you believe it?"

see my escape route and make a break for it while she is distracted.

...

returning from bathroom

AGAMW: "I can't believe he is 5 pounds! Doesn't it make you want one?"

j: "Um. No."

AGAMW: "But he's cute though, right?"

j: feeling guilty "Yep. Sure is."


I'm not saying I'm not happy for the little guy, pulling through premature birth and all. But really, is that so miraculous anymore? And, I don't KNOW her family or the little baby, and sorry, I just CAN't gush over babies. CAN NOT. That little piece that goes inside women that makes them all googly and starry-eyed and picturing the mini-van with 2 car seats? I didn't get that piece. Or it is broken. It always was. And it still is.

I'm sorry.

Meh...

The pinch in my right shoulderblade indicates that I have indeed mastered the poor posture slouch I have been trying so hard to achieve here in my fluorescent hell.

The good news I received yesterday was superceded by the fact that D-pup is sick. Poor little thing. She is now on a medicated routine of Pedialyte and Kaopectate. I'm not sure what she ate, but it isn't being very nice to her. She is fine otherwise, so I probably shouldn't worry, but that is not my nature. No. I have to find one thing to worry about, magnify it to ridiculous proportions, and then snap at everyone around me, taking out my frustrations on anyone who will listen, and even those that don't. Because they usually do quit listening, or answering their phones.

Lately I have been on edge. Small things set me off. Forget about having a thick skin, mine is transparent it is so thin.

The odd thing is, my obsessive behavior has not kicked in, which is not the norm for me in this situation. I should be thinking about the worst case scenario, as is my nature, but instead the thoughts in my head are more along the lines of "who gives a shit anymore". I'm sure this too shall pass, but for right now, I am void of the butterfly in the stomach feeling and just kind of numb. I don't want to think about anything for a while, it just hurts right between my eybrows when I do. My focus is still off, concentration is still difficult.

I just want D-pup to avoid a costly trip to the vet. Everything else, well, I'm so over thinking about it.

For now.

Things what I hate today.

No windows in here.

Fluorescent lighting. Ick on my skin tone.

No radio. Not allowed!

No one to talk to.

Redundancy.

---------------

It's going to be 80 today. And sunny. I think. I'd have to get up and go look if I really wanted to know.

I must be entering a funk again. Damn, but that happens too often anymore.

I just realized that my Amazon wish list has, like, 80 things on it. And I always wish that someday someone will find it and buy me something. I know they won't, and that's probably silly.

It's kind of like how I always wanted to be listening to the radio and hear a song dedicated to me(!). Right now it's this song.

It's really weird inside my head sometimes.

Well, we're moving somewhere, anyway...

Mr. R says to me the other night, "You know where I was thinking would be a better place to move?"

"Where?"

"Alabama."

"Alabama? I thought you didn't want to go south. It's probably humid there."

"No worse than it is here."

"True, true. Well, that sounds like an OK idea to me. I really wanted to go south from the beginning."

"Well, (someone we know indirectly) said that they took a cut in pay when they moved there, but the cost of living is so much lower it was worth it. Their property tax is only like $800 a year."

"A year? Ours are more than that a half. OK. Sounds like a plan. You know, until we come up with another idea."

"Yeah."

pause

"You know, they have dry counties in Alabama."

"We're gonna have to watch that. No living in dry counties."

"No. That would be bad."

So, now, it appears that we are going to go south, you know, when the time to leave finally arrives. Right now, it's one of the few things that gets me through my windowless days. And it's, like, six years away. Six whole years. I will be in my 30s. But we can put a gun rack back in the truck and not get concerned looks from people. I think. I don't really know. I've never been there. But I've heard. And I can probably say "ya'll" and not have people look at me funny. Because "ya'll" doesn't always fly so well up here. And that, right there, is enough for me.

So long as we don't end up in a dry county.

It will be broughten...

If you think you know who I am...and I did not tell you how to get here...congratulations on finding me.

If you are here, and I know you, and I did not tell you how to get here, and you don't like what I say here...tough shit.

If you are here because someone else who knows me told you how to get here even though I trusted them not to, be sure to not tell that person any secrets because they can't keep secrets.

If you are here, and I know you, and I did not tell you how to get here, and you don't like what I say here, and you tell other people about it and all of a fucking sudden I'm getting all these hits from my area... I will take this blog down and relocate. And tell no one. That's right. *poof* I will be gone.

If I really want to taunt you, I will move, tell you where I am moving, but password protect the new place, so you have to ask ME for permission to read about me. All the cool kids are doing it. And since I always was a bit of a follower...well...I'll just have to give it a few days to think about.

The sound of spring...

Springtime is officially here.

You can hear the rumble.

I love that sound.

Mr. R surprised me at lunch today and picked me up on the bike. It was so nice to be back out. No more sitting in the house, wishing nice weather would hurry up and get here so we could just hop on and go. No destination. Just ride. Feel the wind on our faces.

And you know, those Harleys vibrate somethin' fierce, so if you lean forward on the seat just enough...well...it just makes for a very enjoyable ride.

;)

Do you ever....

I am getting that craving again. That one that makes me want to sit in front of Him on the floor, while He pets my hair. I feel myself losing control of myself. And it's weird, I can physically feel it. It's a tingling somewhere in my upper back and neck, right between the shoulders. A physical sensation that tells me that if I could do that, the sensation would go away, along with the anxious feeling I get when this happens.

How weird is that?

But alas, I am trapped in my windowless office, left to suffer for a minimum of nine more hours.

Pity.

At least the sun is shining today, the forecast is continued sun and highs in the 70s. I will sneak outside at lunchtime to witness it and soak up the warmth.

Maybe that will hold me over until I can have my seat...

Thoughts, Observations, and Even a Little Advice...

Do not drink shots. Ever. You will not feel nice the next day. Even if the shot is called "pineapple upside down cake" and tastes just like one. Especially if the shot is called "snakebite". Fortunately, I took my own advice on this one the night the snakebites occurred.


Shut the garage door when you see a tripped out girl staggering down the street on a Sunday evening, muttering and moaning to herself, wearing dirty white pants. Do this immediately after seeing her spin around in the road, apparently wondering where she is, and then seeing her approach the neighbor's house and deciding she should sit there on the front porch. If you haven't closed the garage door yet because you are in total shock and awe and are just standing inside your fence, mouth agape, wondering what the fuck kind of people are in your neighborhood, then PLEASE do it after she sits on the neighbor's porch. You know, right about the same time she starts staring at her hands like she's wondering where they came from, but before she flops her head down between her knees and yells 'HI KITTY KITTY KITTY!" to the neigbor's cats hiding under the porch. Seriously. Walk over there and push the button on the garage door opener, because you don't want someone who is tripping that bad to just wander inside your house. I wish I would have had my video camera.


It is never going to get warm out. Ever. It was 29 degrees when I left the house today.


Instead of moving West in a few years, we are thinking of moving South. South was kind of what I always wanted originally. Yay!


It's kind of shitty when the place you work for will compensate other people who work from home for their high speed internet connection, but not their network admin. Don't you think?

This is kind of old school...

But I can totally relate.

Random Ramblings...

I like the flip-flops. I think they look fun. The new styles are all flashy, with beads and sparklies. They are very inexpensive too, so you can have lots and lots of them. But I can't have any. Why? Because I CANNOT STAND to have that little thing between my toes. It drives me nuts. I can't wear toe rings either. It's ok though, I have ugly feet and really shouldn't show them off.


As far as pronunciation goes, the word Arabica, you know, the coffee bean? Do you say Ah-RAB-i-ca, or AIR-a-BEE-Ca? I say AIR-a-BEE-Ca. The people on the radio do not. And they should know. Because they are on the radio. And, like, talk for a living.


If you send me an email, and I walk past your desk after you have sent said email, it is not necessary to tell me "I sent you an email and it says this..." Really. It kind of defeats the purpose.


Our weather forecast for this area in the loverly state of Ohio has snow flurries in the forecast for Saturday. Snow. Flurries. Onasaturday. Seriously. Why can't we have a nice weekend? I would be so happy with sunny and 60s. God love my parents for only making it this far south after leaving Alaska. This must have seemed like paradise to them. To me? Not so much.


D-puppy discovered the wonderful world of squirrels yesterday. I was unable to witness this amazing encounter, however, Mr. R was able to give me a delightful play-by-play. Apparently D-puppy was outside in the fence and a squirrel ran halfway up the trunk of one of our pine trees. D-pup spotted it immediately, reared up on two legs and let out a mighty Bar-Rar-Rar-Rar-Raoooooh at the squirrel. The squirrel was paralyzed with fear, it must have been upon seeing the pug preparing for a vicious assault, for it remained frozen in its position on the side of the tree. Mr. R called to D-pup "What is that D-pup?". She turned her head toward him, still on her hind legs, big eyes bulging as if to say "I don't know dad. What IS it?" She is a killer. I'm telling you.

1 hour left.

Friday yet???

It is 8:55 AM and already I have pretended to be someone else so as to get international roaming on their mobile phone account, dealt with crazy, hard-to-understand IP Phone settings, and have been told that people can't call another, unrelated mobile phone. And I was told that by the person, after I called them on the phone that they say doesn't receive calls.

1. When did I become a phone guy?
2. I hate phones now. With a big, bloody passion.

My rock has decided that perhaps He is just a bit tired of hearing me complain. Because I do complain. A lot. It's the end of winter, I'm tired of having nothing to look forward to after work, but He just DOESN'T WANT TO HEAR IT.

I know it's my fault, but dammit. Things are really bothering me right now. And I can't even whine and complain to the one person who is supposed to make me feel all better. Just by saying it will be ok and not actually fixing things. Because guys, when a woman is that upset, she doesn't want things fixed, she just wants SOMEONE TO LISTEN. Someone to say "oh honey. Don't be that way. It will all be ok." For me, those 5 magic works are enough to snap me out of it. To get me to tell myself, "it WILL be ok. It is crappy now, but it will go away." And then I feel all better inside.

But no more. The rock HAS HAD ENOUGH.

So I complain to the innernets.

Pathetic, I am.