Category Archives: Random

Drying Paint? Where?

I’m officially one of those people who blogs, not because I have anything to say, but because I am so bored I’m considering alphabetizing every product in my shower. Brian’s ship is underway until Sunday, the one social event I had tonight got canceled, I’m already sick of the book I’m reading, there are no movies I want to see in the theater (no amount of boredom could entice me to see “Sydney White”) and we still don’t have cable hooked up in our apartment.

Of course there are things I should do, productive things like emptying the dishwasher or cleaning the bathroom or brushing up on my French literature, but those things can wait. I’m busy wallowing in my own ennui. It’s way existential.

This is my new plan for the evening:

6:00: Start writing e-mails to the people I should have written back to weeks ago
6:04: Get distracted by Facebook and start writing on unrelated people’s walls
6:25: Stare in dismay at the junk mail, bills and other crap in the living room that I should put away
6:27: Halfheartedly shuffle the papers into a neater stack on the coffee table
6:28: Open a beer
6:30: Attempt to read the last two chapters of my book
6:35: Stalk my building manager again to see if he has our cable installation package
6:36: Mutter obscenities under my breath when he’s not there and I end up running into the blond chick from downstairs who always complains that we walk around “too loudly” à la Mr. Heckles
6:38: Wonder how many beers one can consume alone before it becomes a red flag
6:40: Open another one anyway

That’s really as far as I’ve gotten. I might throw in some aimless YouTube viewing or blog surfing, just to keep things fresh. Remember the time when I actually had places to go and friends in the same city to hang out with? Yeah…that was awesome.


In the Navy

I Want You

For the next three weeks, I will be living on a Navy base in Rhode Island. Oh yes; you heard correctly. They’re letting the dirty liberal in dirtier flip-flops stay on the coast where they “dress” for dinner and know how to eat lobster. Did I mention I’ll be living in a military establishment? Brian is at the Surface Warfare Officer’s School (which sounds terrifying and full of grizzled old men yelling, “Fire the nukes!”) for a few weeks, and I decided to tag along for a change of scenery. I can work from my little laptop by day, then tear it up New England style at night.

I’m stoked about my quasi-vacation, but honestly, I don’t know if I can behave myself for such an extended period of time. I couldn’t even swing it for an evening. Brian took me to a Navy ball in college, right before we started dating, and I tried my darndest to be a lady. I squeezed into my senior prom dress and let my roommates curl my hair and paint me up like a DG pledge. I only ground my teeth a little when some higher-up gave a speech about “fighting the war on terror” and “preserving the freedoms we hold so dear.” I was so proud of myself. And then this old man got up and started talking about our brave seamen abroad, and it was all over.

“Let us remember the seamen who are working hard to keep us safe. These seamen make personal sacrifices to patrol our waters. Let’s take a moment to pray for the seamen…”

I had to keep coughing and covering my mouth with my hand to disguise the fact that I was giggling like a little girl. No one else (besides Brian) seemed amused. Come on, people! An old, old man keeps saying “semen” over and over. Nothing? Not even a little bit? These were obviously not my people.

So I’m a little apprehensive about spending three whole weeks trying to hold my tongue and not shame my boyfriend. I’ve already established that, yes, he will be a little embarrassed if I randomly salute people on base. But what if I just call everyone “Cap’n” or ask strangers in uniform for an a capella rendition of “In the Navy”? Sometimes the spirit just moves me. I’ll do my best to be good, but I’m not making any promises…

Games? I Like Games

The sweet, sassy vixen Lisa tagged me, and I’m not one to back down from a fight. A game…I mean, a game.

Accent – I’m from California. I don’t think I really have an accent. I do talk too fast and say “hella” and “sweet” and “hella sweet” too much. I did pick up some New Orleansisms when I was down there, and every now and then, people tell me I sound like a Southern belle and/or bootlegger.

I Don’t Drink – Jägermeister. Holy crap, that stuff is awful. The last time I had it was at a classy establishment called Tropical Isle on Bourbon Street (we were meeting friends from out of town around– Bourbon Street isn’t a normal hangout). For some reason, I kept insisting that I could scam drinks from strangers, and some friendly gentleman tourists obliged to prove my point. That night ended badly.

Chore I Hate – I don’t mind doing dishes or cleaning bathrooms, but I hate tidying and decluttering my apartment. I never have places to put things, and it drives me nuts.

Pets – I have a blind, 12-year-old goldfish named either Santa or Nova (I wasn’t sure which one died– they look the same!) that resides with my parents. Brian and I are working on keeping our little herb garden alive, and then we can talk pets.

Essential Electronic – My sweet, sweet Macbook. I don’t know how I ever lived without being in constant email and IM contact with my co-workers, friends and distant acquaintances.

Perfume/Cologne – I recently bought my first big kid perfume (in other words, one that costs more than ten bucks and doesn’t smell like cucumber-melon). It’s Lancome’s “Miracle,” which I insist on pronouncing in an exaggerated, pretentious French accent.

Gold or silver – Well, I’d go with white gold if I had the cash, but I’ll settle for silver. Gold just makes me feel like Mr. T.

Insomnia – I never have a problem sleeping unless I’m really upset about something or it’s obscenely hot in my room. The latter has been true the last week, so I’ve been a wee bit grumpy.

Job Title – Content Writer/Editor/Bitch-Slapper Extraordinaire.

Most Admired Trait – I make an excellent trophy wife. I didn’t get my MRS degree for nothing. I also have a mean football tackle.

Kids – Not for a very long time. No buns coming out of this oven. When I’m in my thirties, I think I’ll want a couple of them; no more, no less. With a few exceptions, only children are freaks, and more than two is just not happening. Brian wants three; I told him he can carry the last one for nine months and give up his figure, career and mental stability. Sometimes it’s like Katie Ide is speaking through me.

Religion – Catholic-ish. I grew up in the “love, forgiveness and tolerance” brand of Catholicism, which I’m realizing as I get older is rarely found outside Northern California. I’m not a huge fan of doctrines that hate on women, gays and those who live in sin with their significant others.

Siblings – One fabulous older sister, Melia. I’m not sure who’s the yin and who’s the yang, but together, we will simultaneously kick your ass at Taboo and make you the best peppermintini you’ve ever had.

Time I wake up – I used to hit my snooze button until almost 8 a.m. and have to run to get to work on time. Now that I work from home, I can get up at 7:30, exercise and still be at work by 9.

Unusual talent/skill – I can remember every piece of useless pop culture trivia that comes my way. What? You want to know what Tori Spelling’s character’s name was on “Saved by the Bell”? Why, Violet Bickerstaff, of course! What else would you like to know?

Vegetable I refuse to eat – Brussel sprouts. WTF is that smell?

Worst habit –Procrastination.

X-rays – Are pretty frickin’ sweet. I worked at a dental office in high school, and I got darn good at arranging them in order to create a creepy skeletal smile.

My favorite meal – I crave lots of New Orleans foods that I can’t get here–shrimp po-boys, crawfish étouffée, beignets. Or dim sum. Lots and lots of those little steamed pork buns.

Tag time, eh? Um, most of the bloggy friends I have (not many) are already playing this game. OK, Sara. And Melia when she finally starts her blog. GO!