Saturday, December 31, 2005

Rewind and review

I am happy that this year happened.

I’m very happy that it’s over.

Here is to a bigger, more remarkable, better, happier, more memorable, sillier, healthier, more prosperous and satisfying 2006.

And here’s to a New Year’s Eve that is significantly more interesting than last year’s.

XOXOX, everyone!

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

If I absolutely must be sick

I’ve been sickly since I woke up on Monday, the day after Christmas. On a normal December 26, I start where I left off the night before, head in refrigerator and jaws a’ chomping. This year...not the case. I was snotty (my nose, that is, not my attitude) and completely lacking an appetite.

Me! The Girl Who Loves to Eat More Than Anything in the World!


So, I choked down some orange juice. I begrudgingly ordered and drank a Cinnimint tea at Caribou (because it felt awfully rude to have suggested that Lucy and I meet for coffee and knitting and then not bother to drink anything).

I ate a business card-sized piece of turkey at work.

And that was it. For an entire day. For me! The Queen of the Fridge!

Rather bizarre. Definitely put the pudding and pizza I ate after having my wisdom teeth extracted to shame.

Yesterday, it was more of the same. Skipped breakfast. Soup for lunch – more because I felt like I should eat it than because I was actually hungry. Dinner didn’t fire me up much, either.

I don’t feel painfully crappy. Just a congested nose and a stomach that isn’t much interested in being full.

There are definitely are good parts to this illness.

I recognized it this morning when I stepped on the scale.

Holiday weight, what?

I’m so vain.

Monday, December 26, 2005

The Christmas inventory

a.k.a. I'm so fucking spoiled and I'm willing to admit it on this here blog 'cause I'm too lazy to write about anything else.

CuteTools! Hammer
CuteTools! Screwdriver
Ralph Lauren thermal
Target gift card
MAC makeup brushes
Brown Jones New York sweater
Muffin tins
Old Navy gift card
Fuzzy socks
Everyday Food magazine subscription
USB flash drive
Benefit Dandelion blush
iTunes gift card
Vinnie’s Tampon Case (hahahaha. So funny. I love.)
GAP long-sleeved t-shirt
Pinstriped GAP pants
Striped GAP belt
Old Navy long-sleeved t-shirt
Banana Republic sweater
Pretty, lacy, yellow tank top
Sports bras
Workout tank tops
The cutest pair of lavender sweats EVER
Framed artwork for the living room of my apartment
Big ol’ shadowbox for my bedroom
Soccer sandals
Coach purse
Uggs (which I never wanted or needed or even slightly desired. But I have them and I have fallen in love with them and I might wear them to sleep tonight.)

Saturday, December 24, 2005

Cards 'n' cookies 'n' crap

Everything has been so crappo lately that I forgot to tell you guys about the Christmas card my Grandpa (not my biological grandpa, actually, but my deceased grandmother’s boyfriend of 957 years) sent us?

“I will be out of town for Christmas. Please omit me from your Christmas lists.”

HA! Who does that? Who writes that in a Christmas card? Clearly, he’s thinking about how he’d rather not buy presents for all of us and all of his current girlfriend’s family but, woah, that’s sort of harsh rejection. And sort of hilarious, too. He’s definitely dumping us for his new girlfriend’s family; sort of shitty, seeing as he was with my grandma for 30some years and is the only grandpa any of us have ever known.

Oh well.

Yesterday was the first day I felt even a spark of the Christmas spirit.

I haven’t been Christmas’s biggest supporter in quite a few years – not since going to college, really, and missing out on all of the pre-Christmas excitement that the house seemed to be filled with when I was a kid. It’s lame, yes, but I’m lame. And old.

But, baking Christmas cookies pulls the anticipation out of me. Baking, along with the quality family time, is my favorite part of the season. I love that Christmas obligates me to spend time with my mom and sister, covered in dough and dusted with flour. It’s so ritualistic and comforting and domestic. And yummy.

I love eating.

The highlight of my Christmas Eve thus far: our company mascot making a very random, very hilarious appearance at work today.

(Yes, I’m working on Christmas Eve. It’s a very abbreviated day, so I won’t even bother to complain.)

I’m excited about the presents my mom and I bought for all of my female cousins.

And that’s it.

Merry, Merry Christmas, everyone.

And if Christmas isn’t your thing, Merry, Merry Whatever Is.


Thursday, December 22, 2005

So this is what it feels like

This is what I am: a pushover. When faced with confrontation, I back down. I avoid eye contact, I mutter "I'm fine" in an absolutely unconvincing tone, I hold it all in and make a poor attempt at pretending that nothing has happened.

Today, I looked The Aggressor in the eye. I said "you will never talk to me like that again. I am not a dog." I turned and walked back to my desk.

So, we'll be adding this moment to the Firsts of 2005 list.

December 22, 2005: Alyson proves she has a spine.


Wednesday, December 21, 2005

+ (really! I am!)

I hate who I have been this last month. I am so boring and unhappy and, my lord, I am such a monotonous boring and unhappy person. It's a good thing that I don't often check my site statistics (you who are still reading are saints); I really don't need another reason to whine.

Yes, I feel like the world is crashing in around everyone I love. No, I'm not taking it particularly well. But it just might be time to suck it up. Chin up, kiddo, the world is sick of listening to you bitch.

And I'm getting sick of bitching.

...almost as sick as I am of being perpetually unhappy.

It is time for me to look at the whole. December has sucked a hairy beanbag, that is undisputable, but the rest of my 2005 has seen positive change so prolific that recapping it would make you barf.

So, instead, here is the Cliff's Notes version, which will only make you gag: I finally got my first kiss, I had a boy like me for the first time, like, in the history of the world, I thought I was about to enter a long and painful unemployment and I snagged a job before my internship officially ended, I got Stella, my best friend went to Thailand but came back and I got my very own apartment.

Who has tears in her eyes? Anyone? Mom?

This leads me to my resolution for the final nine (9) days of 2005 (and, if you believe this irony, also of stupid fucking December): stop seeing the world for what I don't have. Stop feeling what hurts. See my blessings. Feel the love.

You can cue the chorus now.

Monday, December 19, 2005

My redheaded comfort blanket

Lucy came home from Thailand yesterday. She is my saving grace. Now that she's home, I'm fostering a little bit of hope that we're going to make it through.

She's spent time with my extended family; she puts faces with names when I talk about Aunt Marie and cousins Anna and Emma.

She's worked for my dad. She calls The Man a son of a bitch and it isn't just for my comfort. It's because he is a son of a bitch and she has the firsthand experience to call it like it is.

It is a relief to have her home.

Today, my boss pulled me into his office and asked me if everything was okay. I was in no mood to extrapolate. I mostly stared at him. Explaining was out of the question.

Because, despite the fact that all I write about anymore is how miserable I am, I'm not much into talking about it.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Good/less than good

My Aunt Marie (and her leg!) were discharged from the hospital today; when she was waiting for the car, she was so happy that she cried.

This good news is long overdue. I went home yesterday. Dad was upbeat, but the house whispers the mourning that we’re each silently consumed by.

I’m not coping very well. The weight is so heavy. I’m so sad.

This is going to be some Christmas.

Thursday, December 15, 2005


For breakfast this morning I ate a bowl of refried beans and 4 oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

Impressive, no?

Wednesday, December 14, 2005


The dread and sadness didn’t hang so heavy on me this morning. It didn’t take so much to drag myself out of bed. The air didn’t feel so cold. The world didn’t feel so mean.

The first thing I thought of, still, was Dad’s job. The thought was accompanied by a sense of peace, not the fear that had been shackling me. It was a good way to start the day.

I told Colin last night just before I went to bed. I attribute our conversation to the state I awoke in.

Today went...better…than yesterday and Monday night. Monday night was disbelief and tears at work (very impressive for a supervisor). Yesterday was anger and disbelief and suppression that burst the minute I got in the car after my soccer game. I cried the entire hour home. Pretending that everything is okay was exhausting. I cracked.

Colin, by saying essentially nothing and absolutely everything, put me back together. Thank goodness.

I couldn’t have started another day drenched in gloom. I wouldn’t have made it past the pisser of an email I had waiting in my work inbox at 8:00 this morning. I never would’ve found my misplaced keys. The sight of the company president would’ve ruined me. Yoga class wouldn’t have been an option.

In short, I believe that this will all turn out okay.

In long, I am so incredibly pissed off at how my father’s employer disregarded his ethic, dedication and the respect he garnered from his coworkers. As a former employee, I feel betrayed. I’m touched when I hear how many people have called to offer my dad their condolences, their best wishes and their prayers. I’m heartbroken. I’m scared because I am fortunate enough to have never before experienced the unemployment of a parent. I am pissed because Meg has to digest this all while attempting to study for her final exams. I hurt because I know that the stress I feel is a fraction of that which must be crushing my mom. I’m overwhelmed. I’m under prepared. I’m surviving.

I am still so very, very fortunate.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005


I am just so sad.

It just pulls on me. Everything feels so hard. Everything hurts so bad.

I spent my day doubled over. From the Aleve OD or sympathy pains for Aunt Marie (still in the hospital, but still holding onto her leg) and Daddy (shockingly upbeat; I'm not buying it), I'm not exactly sure.

I haven't had a month this bad in a long, long time.

Cannot wait for 2006.

Monday, December 12, 2005


So, my dad lost his job today?

And I'm not really sure what to do.

Sunday, December 11, 2005

This may be my last post ever

I keep telling you all how flaky I've been, but I really should save ya'll the unnecessary reading and just illustrate the point.

Point illustrated: I'm nursing a headache. I drag myself into bathroom. I down three Aleve. You're supposed to take one. Except the first dose, where you can take two.


I called my mom to see if I was going to die; she told me that I'd be fine.

But if I never update this sucker again, you will all know why.

Saturday, December 10, 2005


Know all of that shit I wrote earlier? Please disregard. I went to the hospital to visit my aunt straight from work; I got home 10 minutes ago. Tomorrow morning, I'll be getting up to watch my sister's hockey game.

Spread. Too. Thin.

The things I carry

I’ve fallen into a horrible pattern lately. My life is a constant rushing, rushing, rushing, and I’m not sure how to convince myself that it’s necessary to slow down.

When leaving for work this morning, I panicked. I was forgetting something, I told myself, but I hadn’t a clue what it was. Lunch. Check. Purse. Check. Cell phone. Check.

What I was forgetting, stupidly enough, was all of my others.

There have been very, very few days in the last month where I’ve just gone to work. I’ve been living an “and then...” sort of life. I work and then I go straight to the gym. I work and then I go to the hospital to see Aunt Marie. I go to the hospital to see Aunt Marie and then I go to work. I go to work and then I go to Mom and Dad’s house. I go to skating and I go to soccer and I go to hockey.

It’s rare that I don’t leave the house weighed down by all of the necessities of the day.

So working, even if it’s on a Saturday, followed by an immediate return home feels and awful lot like a treat.

And awfully light on my arms, to boot.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Kettle crap

You know what sucks?

Coming home from soccer, nursing the largest popcorn craving that the modern era has seen, popping a bag into the microwave

anxiously waiting

preparing to dust the delightful treat with massive amounts of salt

pulling the bag out of the microwave

and realizing that, when your moved in, your mom stocked your pantry with microwave kettle corn.

Which you don't even like.

Tuesday, December 06, 2005


I remember that, after my Uncle Rich died, my mom was somewhat peeved with friends and colleagues because she felt like they were dismissing his death as "only her brother-in-law's." Not as big of a deal as if it had been her own brother, essentially.

I imagine that it is much the same feeling that I have now. I walked into work today, 100% bummed, everyone fully aware of the fact that I had been at the hospital visiting Aunt Marie, and I didn't get even the slightest sense of compassion from the majority of my coworkers.

That sucks.

I'm not blaming them. I understand that the subjects of illness and death and uncertainty are uncomfortable for a lot of people. And I really don't expect them to be falling all over me.

But I guess I just expect to feel a little more support in the air and a little less where's-this-what's-that-why-are-you-ing the second I walk in the door.

I won't let it bother me.

Aunt Marie was in good spirits today. It helps that she didn't have surgery today (she has it every-other day in an attempt to close up and clean her wound); she wasn't groggy like she was on Friday. All she wants, really, is to go home. I can't blame her. Except to go to the OR, she hasn't left her room since she was admitted the Friday after Thanksgiving.

I hate that I wasn't born with the type of brain with a gift for science. All I want to do is help her. With an English degree. Because a stupid fucking sonnet would do wonders for her right now.


Monday, December 05, 2005

Visiting Hours

So much is going on right now. I’m a little surprised that I haven’t completely forgotten to pay a bill or take a shower or show up to work. I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

It was a busy weekend; there wasn’t time to catch up on the sleep I lost over wedding weekend. Friday – my day off – was an early-morning skating session, followed by trip to visit Aunt Marie in the hospital.

The hospital trip was surreal. It wasn’t as intimidating as I thought that it would be, Aunt Marie was in better spirits than I had expected, but I was still uncomfortable. I’ve been blessed to have spent little time in hospitals in my 23 years.

Watching my mom navigate herself around Aunt Marie’s hospital room was awe-inspiring. That probably seems like an overblown way of describing it – as my mom should be comfortable in hospital rooms (she’s an advance practice nurse/college nursing professor) – but she exerted such confidence and so much love for her sister that it left me somewhat breathless. Mom wasn’t afraid to tell the nurses what Marie needed, what they were doing wrong, what they could be doing better. As a generally unconfident person, I suppose that even the simple act of asserting yourself to assure that your sister gets the best possible care seems awfully courageous.

I’m going to see Aunt Marie tomorrow. Mom won’t be there. I’m a little nervous. But it’s something I feel that I have to do.

Part of growing up, I suppose.

Since returning to school from Thanksgiving break, Aunt Marie’s college-aged daughter, Anna, hasn’t fit the hour-long trip home into her schedule. That makes me sad for Aunt Marie.

But, honestly, just about everything is making me sad these days.

I blame it on the gray skies. But I’m melancholy by nature.

Saturday, December 03, 2005


It is not coincidence that today, exactly one week after I caught the bouquet at Cousin Liz’s wedding, I am going to see the Dave Matthews Band.

Obviously Dave will see me in the crowd, spontaneously decide to dump his wife and mother of his twins and propose that we marry in front of 20,000+ fans.

Duh. Of course I’ll say yes!

It is likely that this blog will take on a different tone, seeing as I will not be a married woman (Dave and I are flying to Vegas and getting’ hitched tonight).

Thank you for all of your support during this life transition, dear readers.

And, yes, I do expect a plethora of gifts in addition to your hearty congratulations.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

This post will bore most boys

Since I spent 90 gazillion hours acting the part of The Perfect Bridesmaid, and since some random 9th cousin of my father emailed us pictures, and since I work late tonight and do not know if I can come up with something clever or interesting to write, I present you all with Wedding Pictures, Part II. Sorry, PT!


Entrance. The head table is on the right. The reception hall was actually two rooms connected by French doors; in the smaller room off of the larger atrium sat immediate family and the wedding party.

Head table.

More of the atrium, the main part of the reception hall.

Decorated for Christmas! Cousin Liz loves Christmastime, so it was only appropriate.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

A hollow sort of aching

Based on her most recent operation, it looks as though my aunt Marie is going to lose her leg. The decision will be made next week.

I have a meeting on the west side today, so I spent last night at Mom and Dad's house. I came home to my mom crying on her bed. And that scares me. Even at 23, it's scary to see that my mom is vulnerable.

Mom is a wreck. Grandma is falling apart. Emma, Aunt Marie's youngest daughter, is acting out to the point that there is fear of what she will do to herself and others.

And there's nothing to be done. We to sit and wait and watch the family fall apart. We hope and we pray.

We pretend we're not as scared as we really are.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Blogger misteriosa

When I posted that crap picture of me yesterday, I did it with the belief that I'd previously posted a picture you could actually see me in.


In leiu of writing something, I'll take the easy way out.

Here is me, and one of my more favorite hockey players, Nicklas Lidstrom*.

*I had to go for the almost-bragging, almost a celebrity picture because I'm afraid to get my ass beat by a friend/family member who found their picture posted to a blog that they didn't know about and probably contains some smack-talking about them or someone they're related to.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Wedding bliss

Liz's wedding was breathtakingly gorgeous. It was strange, looking at her reception and knowing that, if I ever marry, my wedding will not have a chance in hell at being as extravagant and elegent as hers was.

But that's okay.

Now, lets get to the pictures. I hardly have any to share; I'm shitty at taking pictures - and really awesome at carrying a camera around all day for no particular reason.

I let Jenna, the flower girl, take a few shots. They were awfully beautiful.

She even mentioned to catch your favorite blogger. Hmmm.

The reception was exceptionally beautiful. The church was, too, but apparently I didn't take any pictures there.

Reception, again.

These pictures aren't great. I suspect it is because they were taken just as we walked into the room, rushed to put away our belongings and check out the room before guests were allowed in. At this time, I was hungry enough to eat my flowers.

Uh oh!

I caught the bouquet last night.


Cannot wait to tell Colin the good news.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Liz, Louise, limbs and life

Up until Wednesday or Thursday, I had been resisting getting excited about Liz's wedding. Sometime this week, though, I started to let myself realize that I would enjoy the wedding. Pretty dress. Good food. Beautiful location. Lots of family. Sort of silly (now that the showers and all of the other obligations are over) to pretend that it is such a task.

Not only will my dad's entire family be there, but my mom's parents and her sisters and their families were invited. Lots of cousin time. Including my cousins from Chicago. Very fun.

When I got home from work yesterday, I learned that my Aunt Marie was in the hospital. Aunt Marie fell and broke her leg a few weeks ago. It was rough, the first few weeks, but she just recently got her spirits and her strength up enough to realize that she could live with her temporary disability. Things were looking up.


Her leg is infected. She went into surgery immediately. The goal, now, is basically to attempt to save her leg.

My heart is broken.

Aunt Marie has severe, severe diabetes. It nearly killed her as a child; it's always been a struggle to keep everything in check. She does the best she can, but the disease has a stranglehold on her.

It, of course, is a very large factor in the infection.

The scariest part of this is seeing how scared my mom is. My mom's pretty high up in the medical profession; she doesn't needlessly get scared. And my cousin Anna, a third-year nursing student, was the one to take Aunt Marie to the hospital. She knows a little too much of what is going on, which tears me up. I know that I cannot fathom how afraid she is right now.

The entire situation has been amplified by the fact that my Aunt Louise is in for Liz's wedding. Aunt Louise, as I've mentioned before, is a first-class bitch. She got on the phone with my mom yesterday and she - a lawyer - insisted that this was someone's fault. She obviously needs a new doctor, she told my mom - the college nursing professor, because this is his fault. He should've known.

I'm pretty sure my mom cried as she told Aunt Louise, no, it isn't her doctor. It's her body.

Aunt Louise should know. She's diabetic, too.

But instead she's aggressive and blaming and I am so, so sure that she has my grandma believing that this is her fault, too.

It's going to be very hard, with this weighing on my mind, to be entirely happy at the wedding today.

A 500-person wedding seems awfully small when compared to a life.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

The biggest turkey of them all

Thanksgiving this year will be small; Mom, Meg and I made a mere seven pies.

We're celebrating with Grandma the Troll for the first time since I was in elementary school. She always goes to Chicago to spend the holiday with my cousins; her and Grandpa are staying in town so they can go to Cousin Liz's wedding.

The most anticipated guest of the day is my sister’s darling “friend” Jay who, despite all of my desires, just won’t fucking go away. Meg asked me if I would be offended if he came to Thanksgiving. I told her that I didn’t want him there.

So my mom is pissed at me. According to my mom’s ruin-Alyson’s-Thanksgiving logic, we’re choosing between Meg and Jay being under her watchful eye or Meg running off to Jay’s “house” (he definitely lives in the basement of a friend’s condo. Sweet.).

Fucking shit.

I definitely cannot even act remotely humane when Jay is around. I do not talk to him. I am tense, agitated and clearly annoyed the entire time he is in my presence. I’m a really huge bitch and – sorry – I’m just going to have to be a huge bitch if he invades my Thanksgiving. It’s justified for two reasons:

1. He’s Jay and he’s a huge fucking loser.
2. That motherfucker is huge. He will eat into my leftovers.

Today’s lesson: don’t fuck with my food or my sister. I will hate you and I will do my best to make your Thanksgiving as awkward and uncomfortable as possible.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005


I like workdays like today. I started early. I left late. I was too busy for lunch. But there was no misery. I don't think I glanced at the clock once. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was exhausted - Kevin and Colin both called me well after midnight.

Colin and I had a really, really good conversation at approximately 2:00 this morning. It cleared up some issues that I was rather uncertain about, and I think it eased some of his insecurities, too. We'll see where this goes. At this point, we're both tiptoeing around this - like we're so happy that we're (finally) at this point that we're scared to tip the boat and start back where we began. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Be just friends. Judging by the content of our chat yesterday, though, we may be moving out of the Total Pussy Stage and into the Cautiously Shy stage. I would certainly welcome that.

Mostly, though, I'm freaked out and I'm nervous. It has nothing to do with Colin and everything to do with the fact that I'm so bloody naive when it comes to boy/girl relations. Colin really is a good guy and I most certainly trust him, but the unknown is just really, really scary. I don't think anything but experience is going to change that. I have the tendency of over thinking and overanalyzing everything; this isn't an exception and it's definitely not lending itself to the retention of my sanity. I'm timid by nature.

When it comes right down to it, I need to get on The Pill and let what happens happen.

The end.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Cannot. String. Together. Coherent. Sentences.

Work and The Wedding have made this into an extremely long week. The amount I ache and the frequency with which I whine makes it feels like Thursday. An end-of-month Thursday in which I wasted my entire day in meetings, in fact.

This hectic week, the RENT soundtrack is keeping me afloat. Since Aviva mailed it to me, I've listened to nothing else. I'm back to my RENThead, 16-year-old self, belting lyrics so loudly (and so badly) that my voice should probably be hoarse.

Tomorrow, it's back to Mom and Dad's. Pies will be baked. Family time will be spent. I will try to restrain my appetite enough to ensure that I will still fit in my bridesmaid dress on Saturday. Given the current extended-family climate, I question if curbing my appetite will be as big of a chore as it normally would be. We're spending Thanksgiving with my mom's side of the family and things are...strange. Very much so.

Everything in my life is strange right now. The Colin situation is just - woah. I have yet to find the words to describe all of that to you. Work is mostly off limits. I scored two goals in my soccer game tonight and I lost my fucking MP3 player. I forgot that the John Mayer Trio live CD came out today. And I should be in bed right now.

Why don't you put that in your pipe and smoke it?

Monday, November 21, 2005

Confused, cluttered

There is so much going on right now. The latest in the Colin drama is just the start of it. Work is heating up. There is crisis on Mom's side of the family. Cousin Liz gets married this weekend. Baking 1 gajikillion pies is on the horizon.

I don't know which way is up.

As usual.

I skipped going to the gym tonight for a shopping trip with the hopes that I would:
a. clear my head
b. find a duvet cover.

I lose. Neither accomplished. The clutter in my skull will be emptied only by time. And only an act of God will find me a solid-color duvet cover that matches the rest of my bedroom. As I'm also keeping my regular, striped comforter on my bed (aka sleep sauna), it really needs to be a solid color. A bright solid color, in fact. It also needs to cost $2.

I'm afraid that alcohol gave Colin the courage to talk to me on Friday night and we're never going to work this out because he can't communicate with me. I'm anxious about the wedding. I am counting down the seconds until the RENT movie comes out. I'm bitter because I have to grow my nails out for the pre-wedding manicure and I hate having even moderately longish nails. I'm busy. My shoulder kind of hurts. I started my period today. Lucy called me from Thailand yesterday, which brought me a lot of happiness but little clarity. I'm worried about my mom because of how much she worries about her sister. I'm annoyed because I don't have answers.

FedEx delivered my tickets to the December 3 DMB show today.

I'm scared.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Old Tom and the difference

Oh, goodness.

I should be more distraught about the Michigan/Ohio State game. But, I’m at work and it’s busy as hell and I have my mind on other things.

Colin, actually.

Yep. We’re back to him.

I went out with him last night. It was just the two of us, we drank and played air hockey (I won, for the record, 2 of 3 games) and teased and gossiped and talked.

It was getting near the end of the night when he brought up the topic of a funny story he’d been meaning to tell me. I’ve known about this funny story since last Wednesday, but he refused to tell me it until we were face-to-face.

I was at Colin’s work on Tuesday. After I left, Tom, an older man who works for Colin, approached him to point out the fact that, whenever this girl in red was around, he seemed to be nearby.

The girl in red is me.

Colin told Tom that we were good friends. Tom asked Colin if we had ever dated. After Colin said no, he told Colin that he hoped that we could try dating one day.

He left the story at that. We moved onto stories of his parents and siblings, the dichotomy between my bridesmaid dress and Thanksgiving dinner, work, roommates and responsibilities.

We didn’t return to the story of old Tom until we were in his driveway, sitting in Stella, and it all came tumbling out of his mouth between kisses.

I’m reaching a point
Where I need to be with
Who understands me
And my relationship with my job
And the long, shitty hours I have to work
You’re one of my best friends
How long have we known each other?
I tell you things that I don’t tell anyone else.
I know we keep different schedules.
And I don’t even know where your new place is
(I promised to draw him a map)
We’ve screwed around a little before
But this would be different
Even tomorrow, when we’re both sober
I want to date you
What do you think?
What do you say?

I’m game, I said.

...if this really is different.

Friday, November 18, 2005

Today = good

Today was one of the more perfect days I’ve had in a while. I didn’t work; that alone tips the day towards perfect.

I started the day with an eyebrow wax. It was not among the most newsworthy portions of my day, but it also did not include excruciating pain or the letting of any blood. I cannot complain.

Mom and I have been planning today for a few weeks now. Then she was scheduled for a meeting and I got begged to work. We both managed to weasel out of our obligations for a little Christmas shopping spree.

And when I say little, I actually mean big.

Mom has six nieces, all relatively close in age/style/look/taste/interests, etc. Generally, Christmas presents for the nieces follow a common trend – everybody gets a watch, fleeces for one and for all, pajamas, jewelry, whatever.

I would tell you all what the present theme is this year, but I’m afraid of being secretly read (hi, cousins!) and ruining the Christmas surprise. So, we’ll just say that it’s an awfully nice gift that we had to go to the outlet mall for.

(So nice that my sister and I nabbed presents in accordance to the theme, too! Score.)

There was much more shopping to be done. A return visit to the Pottery Barn outlet (insert mental images of makes-me-weak-in-the-knees lamp and homey new kitchen rugs here, because I could describe neither in less than 400 words), Banana Republic, Nike, Gap, BCBG, Adidas and some random store that had a lot of salt and pepper shakers. I’m definitely forgetting some stores; I remain in shopping coma and expect to be in this state for a handful of days.

Here’s what makes the Birch Run outlet mall the best outlet mall: Zehnder’s. About 10 minutes from the outlets, Zehnder’s is this huge-ass family-owned restaurant that specializes in two things:
1. Wait staff in corny-ass uniforms.
2. Ungodly delicious (and ungodly unhealthy) family-style chicken dinners.

So, when you’re done shopping your ass off, you drive to Zehnder’s (which is in the middle of the cutest old Bavarian town) and you eat your ass back on.

This is what they feed you:
-Garlic toast and cheesy spread
-Chicken noodle soup
-Cottage cheese
-Green beans
-Mashed potatoes
-Buttered noodles
-Ice cream

This is the result:
-Extreme fullness.

It was wonderful.

And then, Mammy and I drove home. I spent some quality time with my dad. And now I’m going out with Colin.

Is the excitement of my life killing all of you?

I thought so.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

It's a four-credit course

Is anyone interested in a lesson in stupidity?

Would you like to learn how to make poor decisions?

Put your foot in your mouth more often! Smack yourself in the head with increased frequency. Amaze family and friends with your inadequacies. Fuck it up, and fuck it up often. It's easier than you think!

Contact me, Professor Alyson. My class is always in session.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

November is sweeps month

On a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the bestest and 1 the worstest.

.Working in general – 3
.Working my job, in particular – 2
.Hershey’s special dark chocolate with almonds Nuggets – 10
.Having a bag of Hershey’s special dark chocolate with almonds Nuggets in my apartment 10 days before I’m in a wedding – 2
.Having no self-restraint to avoid a bag of Hershey’s special dark chocolate with almond Nuggets 10 days before I’m in a wedding - 1
.My Sunday soccer team – 1
.My Tuesday soccer team – 7
.Having a good friend who works for a major record label and likes to send you free CDs - 9
.My Lutz jump – 6
.Stella – 10
.The weather this week – 1
.Current state of my feet - 1
.Putting the warm ‘n’ snuggly down comforter on my bed – 10
.Yoga class – 6
.Charming little family seamstress telling me how nice the cut of my bridesmaid dress looks on me – 10
.Charming little family seamstress charging me exorbitant amounts of money to hem my bridesmaid dress – 1
.Jergen’s Natural Glow moisturizer – 8
.Not having to go to the tanning salon to avoid looking pasty and ghost-like at Cousin Liz’s wedding – 10
.Size of cable bill – 2
.Size of cable bill in relation to amount I utilize cable – 1
.Life overall – 9
.Amount I can complain – 1
.Blogging day number 366 - 10

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Today marks it!

I’ve been blogging for a year!

I’ve had a good time. I’ve made good friends. I’ve wasted a countless number of countless numbers. I’ve learned a thing or two. Grown a bit. Wrote about a lot of insignificant crap. Got a job. Bitched. Smooched a boy. Swooned. Detailed my love of eating. Poured out a little of me on this here World Wide Web.

Be certain of this: I could’ve been doing worse.

Thanks for sharing with me, boys and girls. Ya’ll are what make it fun. And who keep me sane.

Monday, November 14, 2005

For the record:

The Laguna Beach season finale/sneak preview to season 3 and The Hills has made my life.

And that is why I am a big fat, awkward, socially inept loser.

[That's not even counting the Tupperware-esque jewlery party I went to tonight. Let's be kind not even get started with that one.]

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Nobody's home

I had an incredibly hard time getting out of bed this morning. I was surprised at how groggy my head was and how heavy my legs felt; I went to bed at 10:30 and slept until 6:30 - which is a very average, very decent amount of sleep today.

I was sluggish getting ready, despite a cup of tea. I stopped for a mocha on my way into work, hoping to kick myself out of my slump. No luck. I felt shaky, ever-so-slighly dizzy and generally not myself all morning.

I forced myself to eat lunch. It didn't help. I forced down more food a bit later, too. Still felt...yucky. Not sick, really. But definitely not like myself. There was no pep in my step.

It took me until 2:30 to realize why I felt so blah. 2:30! 2:30 to remember that I gave blood yesterday.

Uh. Hello?

When I say I'm out of it, ya'll should believe me.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Dad - 1, Me - 0

I went to Mom and Dad's house this morning because I was in the area, stopping by the family seamstress, and because napping on Mommy and Daddy's couch with darling little Stevie sounded delightful.

Dad came home for lunch shortly after I had gone to see the seamstress:

Dad: What have you been doing?
Me: I just brought my bridesmaid's dress in to be hemmed.
Dad: Hmmm.
Me: Which I wouldn't have had to do, if you would've made me just a little taller, jerkoff.
Dad: If I'd jerked off, you wouldn't be here to get that damn dress hemmed.

Game, set, match.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Peppermint Patty

Dear Man on the Bike Next to Me at the Gym,

I'm sorry. You were an innocent bystander, minding your own business, huffing, puffing and flinging sweat everywhere (I've never seen anyone do that so well!) and then I had to come in and your nose had to start twitching and...I apologize! I was hoping you wouldn't notice.

From a distance, I look innocent enough. What harm can a short, quiet 16-year-old (I'm actually 23, but we're just going by looks here, pal) do to your workout? Plenty, if she's wearing 3 ounces of IcyHot between her shoulder blades.

Did you actually think that I didn't see those sideways glances?

Yes, I stunk like an Altoid.

No, looking at me every six seconds would not fix the problem.

Yes, it was completely necessary. I overdosed on Celebrex and Ibuprofen. I could barely lift my arms over my head. Relief was nowhere in sight. I needed icy to dull the pain and hot to relax it away and I got it, damnit. So stop staring at me; mind your own business, plug into your circa-1984 Walkman and watch one of the 90 gajillion TVs.

Consider yourself lucky, buddy. Air pollution in the gym can be a lot more offensive than a little minty-fresh on the bikes in the morning.

Which reminds me. I'm not positive I put on deodorant before working out today.

You dodged a bullet, sir. And you have me to thank.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Cramped places, open spaces

I'm sleepy.

I'm not expected to show up at work until tomorrow afternoon; I would like to stay up late knitting and reading, and I would like to get up early to squeeze in a trip to the gym (cardio goes by fastest during Good Morning America) and a load of laundry and a little lazy time on the couch. What I need to do, however, is sleep. I doubt I'll do it. It is rare I afford myself the luxury of a day that I'm not exhausted.

I haven't always been such a busybody. But, in the last year, I've found that I prefer running myself into the ground over leisurely enjoying the finer points of life. I've realized that I'd rather run than walk. Packed schedules are reassuring - wide open days are the daunting ones.

There must be a reason for it.

There has to be something that I'm hiding from. Some reality that I'm avoiding. A truth I don't want to face.

I don't know what it is. I'm not sure how to find it.

I'm afraid that it's me.

Monday, November 07, 2005

I better snap out of this

Q. What the fuck is going on with me lately?

A. I have no bloody clue, but it's pissing me off.

The last two weeks, my work schedule has been excessively wacky (instead of the moderately wacky it normally is) and I'm paying the price. I cannot get my shit together for the life of me. Which is pretty much not cool.

Last Wednesday, I set my alarm clock for a half-hour too late.

On Saturday, I didn't set it at all.

Today, I set my alarm clock for the right time but left the house a half-hour late because I FORGOT WHAT TIME I LEAVE FOR WORK.

I am normally so on top of this shit. Punctual. Organized as hell. Kicking ass and taking names. Actually, I'm pretty much the best.

My lovely little streak has me slightly concerned.

I need to get my head into the game. This is like some horrible joke.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Return of Jock Girl

My Sunday:
3:00 am - bedtime
Noon - figure skating
6:00 - soccer game
7:45 - ice hockey.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Someone's laughing at me!

I work up last for work this morning; I rushed around like a bloody fool to get here on time.

And when I turned on Stella, Marc Broussard was playing.

"There ain't nothing like sleepin late on a Saturday!"


Friday, November 04, 2005


I am the lamest 23-year-old this world has ever seen. Tomorrow is my cousin Liz's bachelorette party and my excitement-to-dread ratio is 1-to-99.


I don't even like being this antisocial. I would prefer to be all fired up for an afternoon at the spa, and evening of drinking and the inevitable appearance of some nasty-ass male stripper. But I'm so not.

Fuck! Why am I wound so tight? How can I be this neurotic? Why would anyone even want to be around me? I can't even let myself have fun!

And it's only going to get worse.

I hope that I'm lucky enough to find a husband and pop out a few kids so that, when I'm 45, I can spend my weekends making casseroles and doing laundry.

Better than the alternative: 45, alone, singing showtunes in my Winnie the Pooh pajamas while clipping coupons for my favorite recipies out of my favorite cookbook - Delightful Dinners for One.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

It's my Saturday

Today is my day off; my work (and, thus, my sleep) schedule is so f'ed up right now. I'm impressed that I know what day it is.

I spent my morning in my pajamas. I watched Dawson's Creek and two episodes of Laguna Beach. The pleasure this brought me makes me wonder if I'm finally going through my teenage phase. In high school, I never watched stupid TV. I didn't try so damn hard to impress boys. I didn't buy so much makeup. I wasn't this shallow. I swear.

I finished the purse I started knitting over Memorial Day. I must post a picture of it. Ya'll will be so proud!

There are many exciting things on my plate for the remainder of my day off. I will buy a bulletin board for my kitchen, paint my toenails pink, go to Best Buy to spend the $100 gift card that's burning a hole in my wallet and eat massive amounts of pumpkin seeds. I should hit the gym, but I'm not going.

I haven't posted anything about Colin in a long, long time. We had a bad summer, but he's creeping back into the picture.


Monday, October 31, 2005

Happy Halloween, everyone!

The princess, the unicorn, the '50s girl, the cheerleader, the graduate, the jelly beans and the mechanic

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Shoes, self

I'm playing on a women's indoor team on Sunday nights; the soccer facility I'm playing at has FieldTurf so, being the equipment whore that I am, I bought myself some turf shoes this weekend.

Flashy, aren't they?

I had a game tonight; I didn't wear them. Not because of the fear of blisters. It was fear of others.

I told myself that flashy shoes should be reserved for flashy players. I stuffed them back into my bag, trading them for a conservative pair of black indoor flats. What if I'd worn my new Nikes and played poorly? I'd look like a poseur.

Heaven forbid.

I wish I could get over myself and stop caring so much. Being this self-conscious is absolutely exhausting.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Harvest Fest 2005

Mom and I went to Meg's hockey game last night and, due to its unfortunate start time (9:30), we got home rather late. I stayed the night.

This morning I woke up peppy, festive and inspired. I needed to leave by 12:00 (I have to work today), but I managed to:
1. Bake a huge batch of pumpkin muffins.
And when I say huge, I'm really not kidding. The recipe calls for 6 eggs and 5 cups of sugar. But ohmygoodlord are they the most delicious muffins ever.
2. Make apple sauce.
The batch of apple sauce bordered on huge, too. Many, many apples to peel and cut. Much, much apple sauce now sitting in my refrigerator, patiently waiting for consumption.
3. Carve pumpkins.
My pumpkin looks like a kitty. It is adorable and, if I can fight the lazy bug, I will post a picture and you will all coo at its cuteness.

Then I packed up a bunch of shit.
And I took a shower.

I even left early!

I am a domestic goddess and the ideal wife and stay-at-home mom, without the marriage/husband/children/means to stay at home.

I need to work on that.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Let's classify this as the third

When it comes to all of my sports, I'm pretty superstitious. It's very accepted in jock culture and, for whatever reason, I've always convinced myself that this made us won or that made me play poorly.

Outside of athletics, I'm not supertitious. Just last week, I had a customer freak out when he came across number 13; I wanted to stick my fingers up his nose, pop his eyes out from the inside and stomp on them like grapes on the floor at the grocery store.

I restrained.

As superstitious as I'm not, I've been holding my breath all week. Waiting for that third. Deaths come in threes, right?

A classmate.

A teacher.



Who? When? Why?

My gym. As of November first. Because the owner and his hot ass have lost all ambition and drive and would rather put his energies into owning a bar.

Sad but true.

My membership lapsed over a month ago, but I had expected to drop in every once and a while.

Apparently not.

One less thing to spend my money on, I suppose.

Ciao, Intensity. It's been real.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Tag Tunes

Plantation tagged me, so I present to you all:

(insert drum roll and fireworks here)

The Five Songs I Am Currently In Love With

"Lately" David Gray Slow Motion
"High" James Blunt Back to Bedlam
"Gold Digger" Kanye West feat. Jamie Foxx Late Registration
"You and Me" Lifehouse Lifehouse
"Fall Baby Fall" Ryan Cabrera You Stand Watching

I'm supposed to tag others, but I need to get my ass to work. How about whoever wants to be tagged is officially tagged by me? I think it's a great idea. Let's do it. No complaints, motherfuckers: I make the rules around here.

Monday, October 24, 2005


The New York Times is my homepage. Excellent, except for sobering moments like this when I learn that Rosa Parks has died and must go to bed with a heavy heart.

It seems that the bigger impact a person has made on society the harder it is to vocalize the enormity of her role.

Rest in peace.

Caloric love

On my mom’s side of the family, love has always been expressed through food. With us, love isn’t always vocalized – it’s a palatable taste. The secret ingredient in the cupcakes Grandma bakes us for Valentine’s Day. In the graham cracker baked for Mom’s birthday. The Christmas pudding. The soup mailed to dorms.

In the hotdogs we served up for Dad’s birthday.

My dad, you see, loves hotdog stands. Whenever we’re in a big city – Chicago, Toronto, New York – and not-so big cities like Ann Arbor – Dad practically sprints to the first hotdog stand he finds. It’s just one of those things. Predictable like the sunrise.

To surprise Dad for his 50th birthday, Mom, Meg and I catered a hotdog stand to serve lunch to Dad, his employees and coworkers. It was a complete surprise. And it was so fun to watch Dad sheepishly take it in, knowing that each and every one of those 250 hotdogs (along with the potato chips and cupcakes on the side) screamed “we love you, Daddy!” He was shocked. It was really fun.

I’ve enjoyed celebrating Dad’s 50th birthday. It’s fun seeing how much he is loved. The first time I realized how many people really care for him was when my Uncle Rich died; I didn’t see that love in such mass quantities again until Grandma died. It’s nice seeing it on a happy occasion. Everyone he works with respects him. And his best friends? They planned a surprise golf outing for his birthday. 15 guys. A Sunday morning. All for Dad.

I hope that, by my 50th birthday, I’ve made friendships and relationships strong enough to warrant a celebration like my dad’s. What he has is awfully special.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Sunday is funday

I did nothing today. And now I'm watching Girls Next Door on E!

File this under perrrrrrfect day.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Too much sad makes me feel old

I found out this afternoon that my high school history/government teacher - the one teacher who made the biggest impact on who I am and how I see the world - died on Tuesday.

Again. Already.

Is this what growing up is? If so, I think that I would rather not. Thank you, but I'll pass.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

I hope this is vague enough that it won’t get me Dooced

The best part of the day was answering the telephone and asking politely “may I ask whose calling?” before transferring the phone call to its intended recipient.

Because after that, everything went downhill.

Caller says, snidely, “yes, you may.”

And I’m sure that he was irritated that I understood what he was getting at right away and countered with “whose calling, please?” before he could call me out on what is apparently a pet peeve of his.

I truly loved getting bitched out about it later because he is apparently an anal, crazy, intolerant man who is, unfortunately, leaps and bounds more important and more powerful than I will ever be.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005


I need to get renter's insurance because, um, I'm renting. And because I have a lot of shit. ...not that any of my shit is worth any money, but I kind of feel like it's just good karma to get the insurance.


My dad sets me up with the broad who insures all of our cars. He calls her and gives her all of the information and blah, blah, blah. She calls me back with the quote for the renter's insurance. Basically $2 year. I'd be stupid not to get it.

And then she SLAMS me with happy, happy news. I'm not living at home anymore, so I have to be on my own car insurance.

(This never even crossed my mind.)

Which car is yours? I'll call you back with a quote!

Call me back? Don't you mean that you'd kick my ass with a quote?

So. Much. Money.

This makes me very unhappy. And that is why I am blogging about it.

And that is totally allowed because this is my blog and I'll do with it what I see fit!

So there.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Leaders and best

I think they put something in the water in Ann Arbor.

I am sickly in love with my alma mater. Sickly proud to have graduated from UM. I root for Michigan’s sports with idiotic loyalty. I bask in UM academic successes like I played a crucial role (other than purge $100,000 on tuition) to aid the educational greatness of my alma mater.

It’s demented. Not going to lie about that.

The University is currently in the midst of an intense fundraising campaign to raise the cash to build new hospitals. And the Michigan Difference campaign is running this damn commercial that nearly reduces me to tears every time I see it.

The commercial features all of these people who wouldn’t be alive, wouldn’t be functioning as a normal person, couldn’t be who they are today without UM hospital. And they play it on top of this eerily slow, beautiful version of the Michigan fight song.

It makes me weepy. I see it and curl into the fetal position.

It is inappropriate.

Especially when taking into account the pathetic state of the 2005 football squad.


I'm not sure I can work today. I am exhausted. Sucked of energy. Lifeless, thanks to one tiny little shopping excursion.

After getting my hair cut, I dropped by Annie Sez (the most amazing designer discount store that has ever graced Southwestern Michigan) to look for a new pair of jeans.

Translation: I wanted to subject myself to slow torture.

Shopping for jeans is a little like shopping for bras. Not fun.

I tried on way too many pairs. Mostly Seven jeans, which I've been wanting to try since one of my favorite bloggers raved about the pair she bought this summer.

Wise Readership, please tell me that you've found that the size you wear in Seven jeans is dependant on the style. Because I swear that was the case for me today. I'd find a size that fit well, grab that size in another style and be able to slide that pair on without unzipping them. Huh? What? Why?

But you'll all be happy to know that I found a pair I look hot/feel good in.

Ah. Victory.

Sunday, October 16, 2005

My dad is 50 today

Pappy 50th, Ozzy! We love you and all of the wacked-out shit that you do! We even love the not-so-wacked out shit you do. Like taking hella good care of us.

I hope you have a great day, dude. I also really hope that you don't read this blog.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Shower scandal

I don’t think I ever got into the gory details, so just trust me when I say that the shower we threw for my cousin Liz was:
a. gorgeous
b. over-the-top
c. a hell of a lot nicer than most weddings
d. huge
e. fucking expensive

My mom and aunts dumped a huge amount of cash (as well as time, energy and love) on the bridal bonanza. If a wedding shower can be off the hook (and the verdict is out on that), Liz’s shower was off the hook.

At the MegaShower, which from now on will be referred to as The Downpour, Liz got a ginormous amount of gifts. A little bit of everything off of her registry. Some random shit that people just bought for her. Trinkets and mementos up the ass. The typical, you know?

My dad’s cousin, Pat, bought Liz a wind chime.

When she got home, she noticed the remnants of a very familiar red clearance sticker.

Definitely from the very big retailer that she works for.

And, as Liz is nosey, oh-so-slightly materialistic and happens to make a living supervising the marking down of clearance items at her place of employment, she really couldn’t help but investigate the investment Pat made on her shower gift.


Moral: if you plan to spend less than $5 on a gift at a shower where the hostesses paid more than $20/head, buy the present at a retail chain other than the one the bride is employed at.

Friday, October 14, 2005


Dear bitches, pimps and hoes,

I finally have cable television and an internet connection at my apartment.

Is is awesome like woah.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

My Stupid Mouth

Why did I blog about how madly in love I am with my job?

Why can't I write about how irritated I am right now?

Grrr. Growl. Moan. Sniffle. Sob.


Wednesday, October 12, 2005

How corporate America kicks my ass

I do not handle feeling stupid very well. This is why I successfully avoided all math and nearly all science classes over the course of my college education. I’m not good at math or science. I don’t have a math brain. I don’t have a science brain. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that I don’t have a math brain or a science brain. I’ll just avoid the subjects, thankyouverymuch.

This avoidance probably isn’t the best way to approach life. But I’m really good at it, and I will continue to avoid math and sciences in each and every aspect of my life.

Except at work. When, at the end of each month, I have to take math on straightforward. I have to grab it by the balls And make myself look like a complete and utter dumbass in front of our entire finance department.

Oh, it hurts my heart. My head. My stomach. My pinky fingers. And my sanity.

Conclusion: working is hard. Even when you like your job.

Sunday, October 09, 2005

The theme was ice

Today was as perfect as I've seen days in a long, long time.

Sleeping in. Skating exceptionally well. NHL hockey with my sister. Victory for the hometown team. Nachos and a brownie sundae at the Hard Rock Cafe. Being told that we were the two hottest girls in the restaurant. Lincoln LS karaoke. A full belly. A silly little sister.

Knowing that I'm damn lucky.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

Diet of Champions

I've been living in my apartment for three weeks now. Just today, I finished my first jar of peanut butter.

This is is a dramatic shift from my jar-a-week college lifestyle.

Thank God for that.

Friday, October 07, 2005


Nine months ago, I wouldn't have predicted that I would be going out with Heather tonight.

Couldn't guess that we'd play soccer together this spring.

Never would've thought that a high school classmate would've died. Certainly couldn't have imagined walking into the funeral home holding her hand.

People surprise you.

In this case, that's a very good thing.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Love via cake

I’ve been loving my job lately.

Doesn’t that just make you want to kick me in the face and call me a stupid job lover? And a weirdo? And a freak?

It’s okay if you do. I think it’s awfully strange, too. I’ve been working a gazillion hours (and, oddly enough, working has not entailed reading in blogs or writing my own – eventually I’ll catch up to what you’re all up to! I swear!) and have been smacked around by every stressful situation and crabby-ass parent that could possibly smack me around.

And still I enjoy it.


I like it because I feel somewhat empowered. They trust me here. They know that I’m good at what I do. It’s silly, maybe, but it’s awfully nice to be appreciated.

My bosses (a husband/wife team – which isn’t as weird/awkward/disastrous as it has the potential to be) are totally fun. My coworkers are an absolute riot.

The best of it all? On Monday morning, one of the girls I work with brought me a birthday cake. Nothing fancy, she said sheepishly. Not a huge, elaborate cake like you’d make, she pointed out. But we wanted you to know that we love you.


How could I not, in turn, be in love with my job?

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

Someone, somewhere

Someone (and that someone is me) didn’t get cable in her apartment today.

Someone (and that someone is me) had to cancel her cable appointment because she was invited (and by invited we actually mean: was required to attend) an endless meeting.

Someone (and that someone is me) will write a real nice, long blog entry tomorrow.

Someone (and that someone is me) promises it.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

When you turn 23

So, I ended up having to work tonight. On my 23rd birthday. Which wasn’t cool or nice or fun or anything. But it had to be done. This morning, I went to another wedding shower for my cousin, and then I came into work.

Mom told me to call and check in with her when I got to work. But I got busy the second that I got here and – oops – I didn’t call.

So they called information to get the number here. The number was incorrect (charming) and it just rang and rang and rang.

Now my mom thinks that I’m dead. Me and the other 200 people in the building, apparently. Because that wouldn't make the news or anything.

Fast forward to 9:00 (I’ve been here three hours). My parents send a family friend TO MY OFFICE TO SEE IF I’M ALIVE.

Nothing says “Happy 23rd birthday!” like that, eh?

Fucking hell.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

The story of how my head nearly exploded today

It started with a phone call at 6:45 am.

And a run out the door, without makeup, without my work clothes on, at 6:47.

And then nobody could show up at the right time.

Or show up at all.

And there was a lot of yelling. Mostly at me.

Then there was The Most Stressful Football Game Ever.

But, in the end, Blue came out on top.

And that negates the rest of the bullshit. It really, honestly does.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

25 things I should've written about since I moved

(or, why my quality of life will drastically improve on Tuesday)

1. My cute little kitchen.
2. My cute little bedroom.
3. My cute little bathroom.
4. My cute little living room.
5. My cute (and very functional) little storage closet.
6. Stella's cute little carport.
7. Losing my voice.
8. The new gym I've joined.
9. Tendonitis? Not? Why my sports medicine doctor is genius.
10. My coworker confirming a silly suspicion of mine.
11. Starting yoga again.
12. Why my apartment felt empty until I filled it with books.
13. Colin. Colin. Colin.
14. What I want for my birthday.
15. The weather pattern in relation to the washing of my car.
16. Ryan Cabrera's new CD.
17. My classmate's older sister, who I played soccer with for two years and who is as beautiful and chrismatic as she was when I idolized her as a 9th and 10th grader.
18. The World's Oldest Skater.
19. Depression in relation to Miss Lucy being in Thailand and the Dave Matthews Band's winter tour.
20. Dad's 50th birthday.
21. Mom and Dad's 30th anniversary.
22. Supreme Court vacancies and nominees.
24. Rivalry Week.
25. Endless bitching and whining about lame shit like my soul and my deepest feelings.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Slightly bitter

Not having internet at home = sucks.

Being so fucking busy that I don't even have time to slack off and blog at work = sucks more than anything that has sucked before.

You heard it here first, kiddos.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Telling it like it is: boring

The most exciting part of my day was seeing the kids of Laguna Beach stay at the same hotel I did when my family and I went to Cabo San Lucas.

The second most exciting was making an appointment to have my cable and internet installed in my humble little apartment. October 4. Let the countdown begin.

It’s amazing what one funeral will do to you. I feel very blah.

My birthday is a week from tomorrow.

Here’s what I need to do: get into a routine. This move has me all out of whack. Do laundry. Cook for self. New gym. Find grocery store. Work funky hours. Wander aimlessly around apartment, looking for things to do, ignoring unpacked boxes and rugs in need of a good vacuum.

Here’s what else I need to do: start a new knitting project. Or finish that purse.

After I got home from the funeral last night, Colin and I had our first good chat in weeks.

I’m wearing my hair straight today.

So blasé.

Friday, September 23, 2005


Today I learned that mourning the death of a 23-year-old man is acutely painful. It was lesson that I could have lived my life without. It is a lesson that I hope I never have to learn again.

It was all very overwhelming. I am not sure that I can give justice to it. The vigil. The love in the room. The jokes that came at just the right time. Choked up men. Breaking hearts. So many hugs. Reunions that shouldn’t have come where they did.

The circumstances? Horrific. The number of people one man can touch over a 23-year span? Breathtaking.

We lost a special kid.

After gaining so much from him.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

The end came quickly

He died on Tuesday. It's a lot to think about.

And a lot to post about. Eventually. But not at work. And not in the new apartment, either, as I have yet to have the cable turned on and don't have any neighbors to steal wireless from.

Not even one. What kind of heathens am I living near?

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Too sad

My high school classmate's cancer, I found out last night, has spread to his spinal cord and spinal fluid.

He's in Hospice care now. So it's only a matter of time.

Some things should only be reserved for bad people. He is certainly not one.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Less like a shower, more like a downpour

Nearly 80 guests at a bridal shower is just too much. I learned that today.

I think that Cousin Liz was happy with her bridal shower but - gasp - I couldn't have done it for my own bridal shower. Thanking guests from behind my mountain o' gifts via microphone? Definitely not me. There were guests who she didn't even talk to. That's crazy.

I had two very important jobs at The Shower.

Important job #1: writing down the gifts each guest gave. My hand is still cramped.

Important job #2: games. Longtime reader and all-around cool girl Denice sent me excellent, beautiful and much-complimented Bridal Shower Bingo cards. The ladies, all 70some of them, loved the game.

My cousin Paige wore a hideous outfit that she bought at Limited Too. I believe it was an exact replica of an outfit Jennifer Lopez wore as a fly girl on In Living Color. Including the denim page boy hat.

One shower down. Two showers, a bachelorette party, a rehearsal dinner, a wedding and a reception to go.

No sweat!

Saturday, September 17, 2005

On moving

I have a neighbor with a squaking pet bird.

I discovered that I own six (6!) blue fleeces.

I worked a full day today.

And that's about all I care to share at the moment. I am back at Mom and Dad's, preparing for a 70+ guest wedding shower. Stay tuned to tales of madness, hamburgers, rugs, carpet cleaners, carports, scandal and intrigue illustrated with professional-quality photographs.

With that, I will say goodnight.

p.s. I hate Michigan State but fucking love when they beat Notre Dame. Sparty on!

Thursday, September 15, 2005

God save our sanity

Having just dealt with a teary mother, I am quickly realizing that this move isn't going to be as insignificant and as devoid of emotion as I had previously convinced myself.

I'm getting pretty stressed out about it.

This move is necessary, of course. But not entirely wanted. I am so incredibly good at eating food cooked by others, letting my mom do my laundry and Dad get my oil changed, having someone else clean up after me, letting others dictate the frequency with which I clean my bedroom, having built-in parental entertainment, the rent-free life, mooching and depending on others for my survival that it's hard to let it go.

But, after nearly 23 years, being a kid is getting kind of old.

So I guess I'll give being a grownup a shot.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005


Just today, I was refered to in email communications as:

1. Alison
2. Allison
3. Allyson
4. Alysson
and, my personal favorite,
5. Alice

I also have a coworker who frequently slips and calls me Alyssa.

This doesn't bother me as much as it could. Especially today. Why? Partially because I spent my the day celebrating the birth of Britney Spears's first. But mostly due to the fact that I didn't have to be at work until 1:00.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Sneeking up on me

I move out on Friday.

I am entirely unprepared.

And as excited as I am unprepared.

What a fun little adventure this will be.

Sunday, September 11, 2005


Would you guys who know me only through my blog be surprised to know how endlessly cheerful and happy I tend to be?

I feel like you might be. Rightfully so. I bitch a lot on here.

In real life, though, I tend to be awfully cheerful and positive. At work, especially. The reason my boss hired me out of my internship, actually, was because he loved my upbeat, optimistic attitude.

I’m not even joking.

I smile all the fucking time. In the mornings, I greet my coworkers with a tad too much excitement. I believe that it is my job to make everyone laugh, to do favors that I don’t really have time for, to make the tough phone calls, to bring in a birthday cake. Little Miss Sunshine. That’s me.

An act of sorts, I suppose. I don’t do it purposely. It’s just how I am around others. Cheerful feels appropriate. Less desirable moods...nobody wants to put up with that bullshit. And somewhere inside of me is the nagging feeling that I’m not good enough, important enough, person enough to be anything but happy because I’m not good enough, important enough, person enough to burden others with anything other than pleasantries.

I’m not happy all of the time; no one is. I smile and repress that fact of human nature.

People do appreciate that.

But I’m not so sure how good it is for me

Friday, September 09, 2005

The cancelled boat trip

I feel pretty today. That’s more unusual than I would like to admit.

My hair curled nicely. My makeup borders on flawless. My legs look long. I want to go somewhere.

Our plans fell through. They always do. I’ve realized that – mostly. I expect that – mostly. I’m over it – mostly. Except for this small thread that I cling to and this optimism that I should abandon.

I might never learn.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Laguna Beach will not even compare

Shamelessly ripped from the pages of Newsweek:

Careers on Thin Ice
You've seen them dance and diet, but the most delicious has-been reality show is yet to come. Fox's "Skating With Celebrities" is in production right now, and the network hopes it will air this fall. How do we know it's the best ever if we haven't seen it? One word: gore. "You'll see a lot of falls, no question," says Fox's Mike Darnell. "We've already had one incident of blood." As if that weren't enough, "Skating" gives you two kinds of has-beens—washed-up stars and washed-up skaters—for the price of one. The stars: Dave Coulier, Jillian Barberie, Deborah Gibson, Todd Bridges, Bruce Jenner and Kristy Swanson. They'll be paired with Nancy Kerrigan, John Zimmerman, Kurt Browning, Jenni Meno, Tai Babilonia and Lloyd Isler. Dorothy Hamill is the nice judge. And the nasty one? No word, but, alas, Tonya Harding was unavailable.

Wheeee! Forget the husband, the career success and the kids. My life is so complete.


I just realized that Heath Ledger and Jude Law aren't the same person.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Looking south

I’m not as self-centered as I seem.

No, really! I’m not. I know that I spent most of last week drenching my blog in personal woes, but there was plenty of ache in my heart for Louisiana and Mississippi.

I hate tragedies like Hurricane Katrina. The enormity is suffocating, terrifying and so unreal that it takes days and days to realize that, no, this is not an extremely detailed and realistic dream that I still haven’t awoken from. This is the world that I am living in. And it’s very scary.

My mom’s aunt and uncle have lived in New Orleans for years and years – her uncle taught genetics at Tulane. And it was quite fortunate, really, that he died earlier this summer. He would have stayed at the hospital. She would have stayed with him. And...well. I’m sure that I could conjure up a few horrific images, but I feel like we’ve all been exposed to enough of that.

Aunt Jan was in Wisconsin when Hurricane Katrina struck. She was to have gone home, just to leave shortly thereafter for a visit to California.

She’ll go straight to California, now.

Because she doesn’t have a home to return to.

Monday, September 05, 2005

I haven’t totally lost it

What has kept me sane over this long weekend:

1. Aviva is home from NYC!
2. My first email from Lucy since she left for Thailand.
3. Colin permitting me to rant about the Foxy Boxing Incident.
4. Just talking to Colin at all.
5. The Constant Gardner.
6. New Adidas soccer sandals.
7. New Dr. Scholl’s sandals.
8. Refurnishing bedroom furniture for new apartment.
9. Learning I’ll be moving into new apartment in less than two weeks.
10. The two newest episodes of Laguna Beach.
11. Sunshine.
12. A party with both sides of my c-c-c-c-c-crazy family.
13. A sinful amount of sleep – beloved sleep.

...and another week begins.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Before and after

Mom and Dad had both alluded to my massive fuck up with Jess before Mom flat out brought it up. I wanted to fall under the table and die.

The point of them bringing it up, of course, was to point out that everyone fucks up – sometimes on a very large scale – at one point in her life.

I understand the point she made. But this is different. The “foxy boxing” was a before. They didn’t know of my deception in the Jess mess until after.

I wish they’d known about the Jess mess before I dove into it. Before I got in too deep to pull myself out. I wish it had been plugged when it was a tiny hole, not a bottomless chasm.

I wish it could’ve been avoided. Like I wish that Meg’s foxy boxing could’ve been avoided. It would have been so easy. Do it and we don’t pay for your college. Do it and your car is gone.

They think that if they try to keep her from Jay (and from the asinine shit she does with him), she’ll just pull away from the family. They think that if they let her make her own decisions, and her own mistakes, it will be easier. It will be better.

I don’t know.

She left for school on Friday morning; I haven’t seen her or spoke with her since delivering an Oscar-worthy rant just prior to locking myself in my room on Thursday night. But she comes home from school tomorrow. And I guess I’ll have to restrain myself from spitting on her.

Because, as a whole, the Jess mess was probably worse.

I didn’t have anyone trying to save me from myself.

Friday, September 02, 2005

I can't handle this

I am so furious that I am out of control. I want nothing to do with anyone in my family right now. I have nothing to say to them. I don't even want to look at them. And, honestly, I don't want to be so irrational and so blinded by my anger that I push them away. I don't want to be that dad who disowns his kid for making the wrong decision. But I don't know what to do. I don't know how to act. I don't know how to pretend that this is okay. I can’t pretend that I don’t care.

I’m overreacting. But I just can’t reel myself in.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

I can't even title this

My sister is participating in a "foxy boxing" match. At a fucking strip club. Tonight.

I am hurt

Mom and Dad aren't doing a thing to stop her.

I am so angry. And I am so helpless.

What do you say to someone you can't even look in the eye?

How are you supposed to deal with the essential dissolution the most important relationship in your life?

Wednesday, August 31, 2005


I just spent the last hour of my life - an hour I could've spent reading John Irving's Until I Find You - researching apartments. Location, location, location (of course). And price, price, price (duh). As Indoor Stella is living in Mom and Dad's garage and Outdoor Stella is piling on the miles, I was fairly obsessed.

When I was done with The Great Apartment Search, I pulled up my online banking to see if that $9,000,000 I've been praying for had been deposited and...oh...what is that?

Apartment #3 cashed the check I gave them to cash, upon passing my credit check, to hold the apartment.

Um, hello?

Is this a bad joke?


I am confused.

I have a few phone calls to make.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Answer this, friends

Is it Murphy's Law?


Does can my stupid fucking dog tell that I'm about to get to bed before 10:00 and, on the basis of that information and the fact that it's dark and raining and windy and it looks like the scene of a Lifetime rape/murder made-for-TV-movie, decide to run away THE NIGHT AFTER I TOOK HIS FURRY ASS TO DAIRY QUEEN AND BOUGHT HIM A VANILLA CONE WITH SPRINKLES?

I would appreciate any and all explanations, logical or otherwise.

Monday, August 29, 2005

Moving daze

I was totally prepared to be moving out sometime in the next two to three weeks, so I am rather dissatisfied with the Apartment 3 roadblock. Seriously, Lady. I am throwing my money and a one-year lease at you. Could you at least call me back?

Apparently not. It's been a week. I think I'll give up.

Which, by default, means that I will be spending Saturday apartment shopping with Mom again. Oh, how fun. Oh, how repetitive. Oh, how I would like to stab myself in the eye with a blunt object.


Dad is talking about buying me a condo. "It's an investment" he keeps saying.

"Okay!" I keep saying. You want to buy me someplace to live? I will not argue. Unless it is, like, really ghetto. Then I might squabble a bit.

But, the more I think about it, the more obvious it is. I want to move out. Immediately. The idea has been hatched, the Indoor Stella has been purchased, the beautiful chairs have been reupholstered. I am already halfway out the door.

Collectively, let us pray. Let us pray that there is a leasing agent in this wide world who will call my ass back. Because, while we still have our old playhouse in our backyard, I'm not certain I can fit all of my shit inside.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Televison therapy

MTV's three hour Laguna Beach marathon was exactly what I needed today to mitigate a not-so-sweet weekend of a 12-hour workday (Saturday! Son of a bitch!) and a rather severe tendonitis attack.

Not to say that the dark chocolate didn't help, too.

Friday, August 26, 2005


Nothing really tops the feeling of dread that I get after pulling back the shower curtain and reaching for a towel that isn't there.

It is so annoying, having someone to wash your towels and clean your bathroom without proper warning.

As if having someone wash your towels and clean your bathroom wasn't annoying enough!

(I'm lying about that second part, Mom. I swear it.)

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Communicate with me, assholes

My mom bought me a couch! A cute, smallish, leather couch exactly the color of Stella! We have named my couch Indoor Stella.

I am excited about Indoor Stella. She matches well with my chairs and the rug and coffee table I bought at the Pottery Barn Outlet this weekend. And the old buffet I painted up to look frigging adorable. I have an entire room of cuteness!

And nowhere to put it.

On Monday, I put in an application for Apartment #3. The leasing agent I'd toured with wasn't there, but the broad I gave my application to promised that she'd call me on Tuesday.

Now, call me crazy, but it seems to be Thursday and I haven't heard from her.

Wouldn't you call to say that my application was rejected, at least?

(Which I can't imagine that it was. I just leased a fucking Lincoln. How bad can my credit be?)

This bitch can't pick up a phone, so I mostly am hoping that I did get rejected. Like I even want to live in an apartment where the front office staff doesn't know how to dial a phone!

This rant guarantees that I will be accepted and that I will be drowning in the pool one day while the office staff stands around attempting to remember the number for 911.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Can't. Take. It.

I am 22 years old.


The only thing worse than this is knowing that I am more than halfway to living the title of the movie.

The shallow scholar

I’m already thinking about graduate school.

Honestly, I don’t know how that could be. I was so glad to be done and I swore to myself, while running the Naked Mile, that I’d never go back.

And I already have the itch.


I’m afraid that I want to go back for the prestige more than for the education. I’m halfway to my 10-year high school reunion and maybe I just want that master’s degree so I can say that I have it in an insanely nonchalant manner. I can’t be certain that my fancy-schmancy bachelor’s degree will make blood boil with envy. And that’s not shallow at all.

I miss learning and I miss the college environment. But I could probably live without the homework. And the debt. And the stress.

Lucy and I have made a pact to become GRE study buddies once she’s home from Thailand.

And I started researching Sport Management programs at the local Universities – of which I am fortunate enough to have a handful of truly quality programs to choose from

So. I guess maybe I do want to do this.

Side note: I was totally lying about running in the Naked Mile. Didn’t even consider it. Perverts with cameras and websites and the U administration had all but squashed it by my time, anyhow.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Looking glass

I long for the day when I can look people in the eye.

When I don’t shy from mirrors.

When I can dismiss the preconceptions and the insecurity and see my exterior for what it is.

Because I’m not as hideous as I feel.

I know that. And I don’t.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Hi, I'm stupid

I clicked on the wrong link yesterday. My computer now has the PC equivalent of gonorrhea, pubic lice and herpes. Ugh. I am so much smarter than that. Treat my computer like it was born of my own flesh smarter than that.

Aviva (who works for a major record label) would laugh at me if she knew. She would laugh and say that it's exactly what I deserve for attempting to download the new Kanye West CD - even if I was only doing it because John Mayer guests on it and all I wanted to do was hear it once.

I hate being taught lessons.

V. successful day at the outlet mall. Oh, Pottery Barn Outlet, how you fashion my apartment.


Yep. Apartment. Mom and I went looking yesterday. We saw three.

#1 = ghetto. On the older side. Cheap. I'd consider living there if it weren't for the subtle phrases the leasing agent tossed into conversation that made feel like it wasn't the safest place in the world.

#2 = decent. It's pretty new. Has a pool and a clubhouse and a gym and all of that crap. Fairly young tenants. Washer and dryer. Pretty standard. The leasing agent was a chump. It's right off of a main road, lots of traffic noise.

#3 = cute. Cheaper than #2, more expensive than #1. A smaller complex. Has carport for dear Stella. Washer and dryer. Pool. Clubhouse. Other amenities that I wouldn't use. Blah, blah, blah.

#3 was the winner. The complex has exactly one apartment that will be available in my time frame (sometime in the next 6 weeks). I know that there was another girl who looked at it on Saturday. Now must be v. nervous that she'll go and sign the lease before I can. Must sneak out of work. Tomorrow. Early.

Must bring my laptop in for major repairs, too.

Which is entirely my fault.

Well, actually, I think I'll split the blame with Kanye West and Johnny Mayer.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Miss Martha

Lookie what I made!

Um. I didn't build it or anything. But, with my mammy's help, I refinished and reupholstered two of these chairs, which were my great grandma's and happen to be the most comfortable reading chairs that the world has ever known.

My chair project consumed last weekend. This weekend, it's painting a buffet and priming bedroom furniture.

And looking at a few apartments.

Oooh la la! This little girl is getting awfully excited.

I suppose parts of growing up aren't so bad.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Found time

This week, Meg’s best friend went back to Colorado, where she goes to school, and Jay – the 300 lb. leech – left for an extended visit with his parents in California.

Meg is depressed.

She’s our sensitive, fragile little baby, so Mom is concerned and I am taking action. We will make Meg feel better the only way we know how – by distracting her.

This weekend will be painting ceramics with the little cousins, a shopping adventure at the best outlet mall within a three-hour radius, apartment hunting, gym going, Blizzard eating, fun having and sister bonding.

I’m fairly excited. This summer, we’ve been more far than close. I don’t like it that way.

She moves back to school on September 2.

Lots of time to catch up.

And to do plenty of damage to Dad’s credit card.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Yo Colin

I don’t know how this happened or what caused it or if we just overstayed our welcome and fizzled out. I just know that I am sick of pushing our jalopy along by myself. It takes too much out of me. I’m not strong enough.

I don’t want to let us go, but all muscles reach a point of exhaustion. Mine are there.

Would you mind taking a turn?

Will you jump-start us?

I don’t really want to give up. But I’m awfully tired of doing all of the work.

You could start with a phone call.

Monday, August 15, 2005

I explain it all

I still get mad when I think about how much my uncle pushed me to pursue a job that I didn’t want. It annoys me. It remains insulting.

Insulting and annoying with a heaping side of fucking hilarious.

Know that company that my uncle wanted me to work for sosososososoSO badly that he would gladly ruin my trip to Chicago to twist my arm into agreeing to work there?

He is suing it for breach of contract.


I am wise beyond my years.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

This probably should've come sooner


I do need to expand my horizons.

Broaden them so wide that Colin appears a tiny speck. A tiny, insignificant speck.

Thursday, August 11, 2005


I’m in a funk. Because Lucy is leaving and I’m working myself to death and 100 other little things, I guess.

I have a ticket to tomorrow night’s Eminem/50 Cent/Lil’ John concert. I want to go, but I’m not.

I’m supposed to go with my sister, my cousin Paul and six others. We have floor tickets; the floor is designated as one monstrous mosh pit. For safety reasons, there are no chairs. I expect it to be wild.

Or the stories to be wild, anyway. It’ll all be second hand.

I’m exhausted. And I remember all too well how tiring the Eminem/50 Cent/Missy Elliott concert I went to in ’03 was. I have a hard enough time making it until 5:00. Midnight – going from wake to work to the concert without time for a breath in between – is essentially out of the question.

I’m bummed out. But I don’t want to be the miserable bitch who just wants to go home. If I’m going to go, I want to have fun. I want to enjoy myself. And, at this point, I don’t think that I can. I’m not acclimated to my new schedule. I’m in 1,000 depressions about Lucy. And it just doesn’t feel right.

I mentioned to my mom that I wasn’t going.

You can let your job run your life, she snapped.
You could leave early for once.
Your work will be there on Monday morning.

And tonight, after my dad asked me what I was doing tomorrow night.

Staying at home, like an old lady.

I hate that. I resent it. I am angry that she thinks that I, at 22, am not capable making decisions in my best interest.

I’m pissed enough at the fact that my life isn’t such that I can do everything that I want to do exactly when I want to do it. I don’t get to the gym as much as I want to. I don’t skate as much as I want to. I can’t sleep as much as I want to. I’m two months late for my six-month checkup and I don’t like it. But my life is what it is and I am doing my best to live it to the maximum.

And maybe that means missing a concert, Mom.

Maybe that means staying at home like an old lady.

Maybe that means making a decision that you wouldn’t.

Sorry. You’ll just have to get over it.

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Lonely through mid-December

Lucy is the brave one.

Midway through our sophomore years in college, she put her education on hold to serve in AmeriCorps.

I remember how hard I cried as I drove home after we bid each other an awkward goodbye in her driveway. I cried because I felt alone. My college years were not rich in friendships; I felt desperately lonely knowing that the girl who understood me the best was leaving me for Colorado (and, as it turned out, Minnesota, Nebraska, Louisiana and Indiana).

I expect tonight to be the same. I still don’t have many friends. She still knows me best. I’m still going to cry because I don’t want her to go and because I’m envious of her bravery and because I’m proud to be her best friend.

She’s studying abroad this semester. Thailand. She leaves on Friday.

And that makes me awfully sad.
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