The dupe, which I affectionately refer to it as, is the duplex that my parents bought way back in the day before my sister was born. She spent her first years here, my brother spent his first days here, and then they relocated to good ol' Madera county. After my parents moved out, my dad's parents (Mamaw and Papaw-- from Kentucky), and some of their children, moved in.
Many years (and many smells, if you ever visited while the Brewer's lived here, especially during the holidays) down the line, I live in this cute nook of an old place, still with faded-pink bathroom tile and peeling linoleum in the kitchen. (Newly installed A/C however -- it died this summer, during the hottest couple of weeks in Fresno. That strained our relationship a bit.) Consequently, because my relatives lived here for so long, I still get some of their mail. Every month a PG&E bill comes for Mamaw, all $770 past-due. I just toss it out. I've considered writing "return to sender-- deceased (for like 10 years now)" on it, but haven't. Mamaw and Papaw were ministers, and I also get a lot of religious organizations asking for money, or Christ for the Nations magazines. For a while, and contributing to the strange aromas in the place (sorry to say), my aunt's "friend"/friend (we were never sure) lived here with her and Mamaw and whoever else. Apparently he was a gambler, because I also get weird sports-gambling mini mags with hot ladies on the cover. They creep me out a bit.
Recently, I got this little joy, which came in a light-blue box. I had ordered books for school from the internets and thought maybe it was one that came uber-quickly, then saw Mamaw's name on it and tossed it aside until this morning when I went through the pile of crap mail. I looked inside and...
Adult underwear. Disposable. Free sample. And coupon. Best piece of mail yet.
I smoke a pipe. And sometimes when I'm driving I get embarrassed about it and hide it at intersections so as to not face discrimination, or get a little anxious when I offer friends-who-don't-know a ride and it's sitting out in my car.
I pop all over-- joints, groin (I think?), pretty much you-name-it.
I give people at intersections/standing in the median dollars sometimes. Sometimes I avoid the intersection just so I don't feel guilty about not.
I'm a bit of a trichotillomaniac. But not on my head, and not to the serial-killer extent (I learned this term in a scary serial-killer-focused crim class I took). Mainly arm hairs.
I eat too much.
I especially eat too much and trichotillomania too much when I'm stressed. So I'm assuming, come master's project time, I will gain 15+ pounds and be arm-hair-less. Oh, and absolutely hate myself.
I procrastinate.
I like a clean house (and please, a clean kitchen), but my bedroom is most likely untidy and I have papers overflowing and my house is usually not tidy.
I miss my brother like shit-cry-crazy. And it'd be dream-like if my sister, bro-in-law, and niece and nephew lived here. Euphoria.
I get jealous. I get angry. I get defensive.
I don't understand people and their bias against the gays marrying. And am passionate about defending them.
I find myself uncomfortable around gay couples and I don't like it.
I'd rather not have a roommate. Though sometimes it's nice late at night knowing someone else is in the place with me (isolated in her bedroom, please).
I actually like school. But not the stress it brings or the self-motivated learning that's necessary. ugh. pfft. pshaw.
I like drinking alone. And with people.
I'm a bit nervous about posting this. Do I? Don't I? Why would I? Yet at this point I think I'm going to.
I go to therapy, weekly. And it's been a few years. And I recommend it.
I'm on anti-depressants.
I value independence but interdependence can be a damn nice thing.
I believe in a God. or god. I think, God. Well, god? Does the capitalization really measure significance.
Oooo I like the music I listen to. I wish I could take initiative and learn to play the guitar that's sitting right over there. (And these photos will be so much better when I get that iPhone later this month!)
I like hosting parties, but I like less going to parties.
I claim responsibility for too much.
I like being in control and knowing what's going to happen next. And/yet I also value spontaneity.
I was all about 'NSync when I was, like, 20.
I don't watch as much tv as I imagine myself to. And I don't remember things from movies/tv shows like other people can.
I like how I feel post-workouts. But once again, I'm a procrastinator. And I'm lazy. Remember high school? Yeah I don't ever want to go back there. But I wasn't lazy then. (But speaking of HS, I think everyone should go to their awkward high-school reunion. At least the first one. Because it's awkward, and you know it, and everyone knows it, and there's alcohol, and all of us are just as accomplished (and not) as we are. You can't fake it.)
I really like flavor-filled, uncommon (asterisk vegetarian and wheat-free) foods. But at home I mostly eat bland, salt-and-pepper things, like chips and beans, fruit and veg and cheese.
I don't know how I should end this. With some powerful, significant "something" I suppose. I'm not doing this for responses. [And I hope you don't associate me with someone else you know who writes personal diaries on the web. And I hope a different you-know-who doesn't take that statement as negative and back-stabbing to other said individual. 'Cause I don't mean it that way.] And it's more for me than you (begin Wilson Phillips' "Hold On" background music).
As a matter of fact:
(So hilarious. Brother, I'm imagining interpretive dancing with you and dag-gone loving it.)
1. "The fact of the matter is..." Listen. There is no fact in this opinion of yours. So stop saying it. (This one I owe to a past teacher I worked with who always said it in regards to some complaint and who also always wore those ugly velor track suits, which were too small and too short for her even though she was short, (oh and she also wore them with crocs) so I get flashbacks to that in addition to just being cranky at the phrase, which just adds to the irritation.)
2. "Make sure you..." This one is totally unnecessary. Just say the command, or whatever it is you're asking, and be done with it. Don't pretend nice.
3. "It's neither here nor there." Really? It's got to be somewhere. And you're saying it so I guess that means it is either here or there to you.
HBO's True Blood is my new obsession. Like most shows I get into, it's after-the-fact, but at least this time the show is still on air. Just not my DTV air. Mark told me about it a while back and a few weeks ago I started renting season one from Netflix. Thank you, Netflix. And after that it was episode watching marathons from one disc to the other and waiting waiting waiting until the roommate watched, the disc was sent back, and the next 2 or 3 episodes appeared. I definitely considered (multiple times) upping my Netflix account to at least 2-at-a-time, but held out.
Sookie (Anna Paquin) annoys, but what am I gonna do. I might have a sliiiight crush on Sam (Sam Trammell). And did you know Stephen Moyer (Bill) was on "The Starter Wife?" I didn't either but I never watched that show. He definitely has all the right vampire side looks:
So, now, just to wait an ENTIRE YEAR to get to season two! Yay poor no-HBO-me lifestyle.
Oh, and I've been drinking red wine lately. Not sure if there's a correlation to seeing red beverages on the TV (accent on the T), but Josh says he's buying me this for my birthday and hug-my-neck he better.
Got this as part of an email my father forwarded to me from Bottom Line Health. Isn't it great that father sent me an email about breasts? A lot of really useful information in here. Look for words such as "sagging," "bouncing," "support," and a favorite of mine, "vertical motion." And don't forget, ladies, "Breasts come in different shapes and sizes."
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Dangers of Ill-Fitting Bras
Ladies, how does your bra fit? Chances are, not quite right. A British study that tested bra designs found that many women are unaware that they’re wearing an ill-fitting bra. No big deal, you think? What’s so bad if your breasts droop a little? The truth is that when bras fit poorly, the bouncing that occurs can irreparably stretch the breast’s connective tissues, causing sagging and pain, no matter what size your breasts are. "Breasts have little natural support," explains Joanna Scurr, PhD, author of the study and principal lecturer in the department of sport and exercise science at the University of Portsmouth, United Kingdom. Proper support is critical.
BEST BRAS NOT YET AVAILABLE...
Dr. Scurr, a breast biomechanics expert, and her team are the first to conduct research in the 3D movement of breasts and how effective bras are at reducing it. They tested 50 or so bra designs on 200 women with a wide range of breast sizes. The women, who had sensors on their bodies, walked, jogged and ran on a treadmill while wearing different bra types. The researchers found that breasts bounce up to eight inches during exercise and that they move not only up and down, but also side to side and in and out. Slow jogging caused as much movement as did a full-out sprint. The problem is that most bras are designed to minimize only vertical motion, says Dr. Scurr, who is working with manufacturers to design a bra that can lessen movement in all three directions. Appropriate breast support is important even in the activities of daily life, she said.
CHOOSE THE RIGHT BRA
Dr. Scurr advises shoppers to try on many different kinds of bras. Don’t limit yourself to what you’ve always bought before or even what you think is most comfortable. The right bra may be different from the one you’re accustomed to. Specifically, she says:
Get measured by a trained professional and use that measurement as a starting point, but try on lots of different sized bras, constructed in different ways, since sizing varies among manufacturers.
Take a look and give a try to lots of different styles, too. Breasts come in different shapes and sizes, so not all styles will fit you well.
Make sure your chest band fits firmly, so you cannot easily fit your finger between the bra and your breastbone. The band provides the majority of support and a common mistake is having it fit too loose.
The underwire and shoulder straps shouldn’t dig into your flesh. The underwire should sit flat against your chest wall.
If you go down a band size (i.e., from a 36 to a 34) be aware that you then must go up a cup size.
The bra cup should not be baggy, nor should it press uncomfortably into breast tissue.
Always buy a bra that fits comfortably on the loosest setting -- when you wash it, the material will stretch and you can then pull it in.
For the most support, buy an encapsulation bra, which has separate molded cups and limits motion in all directions. Avoid the compression bra (i.e., sports bras), which flattens the breasts, limiting only up and down movement.
Source(s):
Joanna Scurr, PhD, author of the study and principal lecturer in the department of sport and exercise science at the University of Portsmouth, United Kingdom.
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Thanks, dad. Guess I better get me some encapsulation bras.
Found this site when I was looking for some interwebs advice on how to tie up my new clothesline to the poles in the back yard. Well, upon further investigation (and am yet to hang up the line) there are experts for just so many of our needs! One of my favorites:
So after watching, I decided I wasn't that impressed or convinced to give online dating a go, but he does have other videos in the series which I may need to watch before cementing my decision. However, I did decide he could really truly be a professional bachelor for, post-viewing, I imagined a dinner out with him-- nice restaurant where you sit at the table with really good posture, dim lights, fancy wine, polished silverware, the occasional hand-touching-across-the-table (just on cue), no lull in the focused-on-you conversation-- and that would be all I'd be able to handle of him and no more. Bachelor status: maintained.
[I know the pictures are crappy but that will all be fixed when I get my new iPhone on June 19. Or after the lines die down. (woo hoo i think i'm treating myself to an iPhone!)]
Joshua and I made this delicious meal of food last night after I got the notion of making falafel with my I-love-having-this-thing food processor:
I worked the mixings and Josh gallantly worked the frying. We had some laughable moments while discovering the mixture was too wet and the falafel balls disintegrated in the pot o' oil (which soon turned black from all the bits in there)-- so we had to run back to WF and get some brown rice flour and ingredients for a second batch, but it was totally worth it. And did you know grapeseed oil is green? Oh but it is. All around good times. And yummy.
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So, I worked in the yard this weekend, hedged a whole bunch of bushes and got my wrists sore from manual clippers, swept the driveway, cleaned up the house a bit, and worked the food processor. Getting ready for summer par-tay par-tay times!
I don't know exactly what happened to get me here but you can see the results and it felt like I was punched in the nose... by allergies? I did ride around a lot that day and the day before. I iced my nose with a bag of frozen edamame and bought a neti pot (which I think everyone should have)-- thank you Lauren for that bit of advice. Things were better the next morning.
Also, after perusing my grand supply of I-need-a-study-break-so-I'll-take-pictures-of-myself-with-PhotoBooth head shots, either my nose has had allergy/swollen issues before and I haven't noticed or my nose is just not as defined as I thought it was.
In summary, I would also like to thank everyone who was of such great support during this period of crisis in my life (in no particular order except boy-girl-boy-girl): Joshua, Lauren, Mark, Rebek, Matt, Jen. If I have neglected to mention you, I apologize, these were some crazy hours.
Why you gotta take up the entire belt for your groceries that can fit in 16" of it? And then dilly-dally and get distracted by going on and on to the clerk about the recent Britains Got Talent phenomenon Susan Boyle, kinda ruining that good moment for me. And I like(d) her too. Eegads, singing from Les Mis? I got tears. Well, almost.
This woman was clueless as to grocery check-out etiquette. And all I wanted to do was get home and eat my chips and drink my beers already. Stupidhead.
Mark I know you must. I think I even remember that exact air fern bag they came in. Mom got these from her students at some point and I think we even had one in a magnetic pot on the fridge for a while, which looked similar to this.
This is my new mission: purchase and remember the days of yore.
"Memory is part of the present. It builds us up inside; it knits our bones to our muscles and keeps our heart pumping. It is memory that reminds our bodies to work, and memory that reminds our spirits to work, too: it keeps us who we are. It is the influence that keeps us from flying off into separate pieces..."
I came over here without a camera and already have wanted to take multiple multiple pictures. All I have is my lousy camera on my phone, but I'm sharing the glory in all its sad-quality crappiness anyway.
I've been so stressed with school lately that I haven't been able to see beyond my front door, hypothetical or literal. So coming over here and breathing fresh ocean air and feeling sand between my toes and swinging on the swings with just myself and my thoughts (and my high-quality blackberry camera) was so refreshing and the good kind of overwhelming I had a couple tears.
Also, and I'll just throw this out there, with breaks from the waking life in mind and memories of europe and seattle and good music and good people, I miss you brother.
And friends, I think we should all be together soon. Hang outs are in order.
In response to Rebekkin's quest (slash denial), I respond with (although no question was asked) this:
Cute, lovable, mighty, flying Falkor. Apparently there is some debate about whether his name is spelled with a K or a C, though I found more spellings with the K, like on wiki. I know, the learning just abounds in this post. However, did I find any Balcors out there? Not so much. I got one of those Google remarks, "Did you mean: falkor neverending story" that so nicely pop up when you misspell or mistype a word. But Rebek, you are cute and lovable too.
I'm looking at buying new glasses and someone outside of Tokyo Gardens one night told me of this site, Zenni Optical, where you can get frames and your prescription lenses at crazy cheap prices (and yes, they will even do transitions!). A bit of a risk since you can't try them on before you buy. But getting a great deal on (hopefully) cute prescription glasses? Cool.
However, the site also offers beauties like these...
...which fall into the "ridiculous/are you serious?/must only be for elementary school teachers" category. No, your eyes do not deceive you. They're winter-themed frames.
I just searched, cut and pasted after seeing this on the news-- this tells me a) people in America are ridiculous and GROSS (McDonald's is badwrongbad in so many ways) and b) more people need to go to therapy.
Florida woman calls 911 3 times because she says McDonald's was out of Chicken McNuggets
By Associated Press
9:05 PM EST, March 3, 2009
FORT PIERCE, Fla. (AP) — Authorities say a Florida woman called 911 three times after McDonald's employees told her they were out of McNuggets. A police report said 27-year-old Fort Pierce resident Latreasa L. Goodman told authorities she paid for a 10-piece last week but was later informed the restaurant had run out.
She says she was refused a refund and told all sales were final. A cashier told police she offered Goodman a larger portion of different food for the same price, but Goodman became irate.
Police say Goodman was cited on a misuse of 911 charge. A current phone listing for Goodman couldn't be found.
A McDonald's spokesman says Goodman should have been given a refund, and she's being sent a gift card for a free meal.
I know there's been overkill hype about this but I came across this picture and needed others to share in my "ighk" face shape. Here's what my co-worker said, "I wonder what it was like for them in there."
I went to Dallas in November for a conference (NAEYC-- National Association for the Education of Young Children) and have been meaning to post some of the just-absolutely-amazing things about Dallas that leave you in awe, but let me start with something that shows the true beauty, none of that commercial, plastic, primary-colors-til-our-eyes-bleed-them bull shit about early childhood education. Here's one great example, this man selling some children's music CD in the exhibit hall with a bunch of women (yes wearing lanyards or clay beads or gold pins in the shape of two children holding hands) enjoying themselves way too much as I walk by embarrased (even though this is what makes going to these things great):
And another of a group of grown women participating in some sort of group hand-jive session with the Lakeshore. Circle time!
What ever happened to Michelle (say, "meeeshell") Norris from NPR?? Where has she gone? She hasn't been on in weeks. And Lakshmi Singh? I don't hear from you as often anymore either. I've noticed your absences and I miss your Morning Edition and All Things Considered voices.
Is Pain Ruining Your Fun in Life? Get Pain Relief Now!
That's what the website says. It's the special website I was directed to while viewing the infomercial.
All you gotta do is be in pain (that's me), have back problems (yes again), and then lay on this for a few minutes. Boom, spine stretched, pain is gone. I'm not sure if bending like a grandma and saying, "oooph, yagh" is also a requirement, but I got that down too. And yeah, I do want one. I want my true back back.
I promise this is worth your time. Endure the stupid commercial and go to 2 minutes 14 seconds in.
Fresno Music Teacher Arrested! Dun-dun-DUNNN
Did you see her?! I've watched this and laughed so many times now!, and I even started watching Frontrunners, a documentary about high school students in New York who are running for student body president (oh yes, student body president), because this high school classic arty-nerd-articulate I-know-and-use-big-words girl from Fresno gave me an all new perspective on the species. And so far the movie is good. Anyway, thank you KMPH and the 10 o'clock news, I'm so glad I happened to have the tv on.
I was sitting in the reception area, reading National Geographic, trying to get lost in the pictures and feigning calm comfort. The door opened once, I kept my head down and someone exited. I wondered if she was going to the car with the rainbow-colored sticker. With a bit of a raucous the door opened again and I turned this time, I sat right next to the door, wondering if I had to get out of my shell and help this person. An elderly man, very much hunched over, greeted my fleeting smile and immediately said, "keep smiling." I turned back around; he moved slow, but it seemed he didn't need my assistance. He placed a hand on my shoulder, of course I looked in his eyes then, and repeated, "you have a nice smile. Keep smiling." I did my best and said thanks. Then he added, "get better." I wish I could already.He asked who I was seeing, if she was good, again said, "get better;" added, "you're cute," and shuffled to the door ahead. I kept up the (this-is-really-weird, a-bit-awkward, but-perhaps-quite-needed) thanks. As he struggled with opening and moving the door aside, he turned and once more offered, "you're really cute."
He is really sweet. Or something. Seeing as how that interaction went down in a psychotherapy office, I don't know with how much weight I should be considering his words, but my eyes watered from the sincerity in his voice.
Today the woman I share an office with is out sick. I don't think she's too sick, which is good for her, she deserves a relaxing day off. I've been listening to my "weird" tunes all day long, without feeling bad for intruding my music on others' ears, even though, really, the music I (and I think I can collectively say we here) listen to really is better than the music they listen to. But most people out there think this music is weird -- after all, it's not on 101.1 or B95. It's been an enjoyable at-my-computer atmosphere today. So today I've listened to Mercury Rev, courtesy of Steve, Sera Cahoone (trying to study up for this weekend), Rocky Votolato, Blitzen Trapper and Page France. And Counting Crows for my drive in. Not bad so far.
And for those who know 'em, and also for those who don't, Fruit Bats and Sera Cahoone at the Cellar Door this Saturday! Brother's seeing them in Portland next weekend. woo hoo us.
I've been enjoying raisins lately. Organic, please. I'm eating some right now. And has anyone else noticed how organic carrots are so much better than traditional? Go and do a taste test. Speaking of food, four people at work, the people I am with the most throughout the day, are all doing Weight Watchers. Oh how I hate watching weight. Anyway, I don't want to feel left out, so I got somewhat excited and asked them about how many points I get to eat in a day and whatnot. (I'm a pound overweight by the way, according to Ms. Watcher. Great.) They proceeded to call me "fatty." I think it's a reflection on how they're feeling bad, and I've told myself this and that they don't mean it, but it makes me get a bit consciencious! My boss, who is very good to me, said today she was thinking about it over the weekend and decided she didn't like it and next time she'd say something. She's a good lady. And speaking of her, she went to the inauguration! And her cousin went with her and her cousin and her cousin's friend DITCHED OUT on the ceremony! Can you believe it?! They were cold. They even started crying, basically having a stomp-your-foot moment, not able to sit in the area their tickets were for. Unimaginable. Go Mathis (my boss) for hanging and not letting the ruin your Obama moment!
And a shoe update: I ordered 3 pairs last week, and 2 are on my porch waiting for me! I had six pairs in my shopping cart and decided to put only $200-something on my credit card at a time. Only one is black, but there's more to try, thank you endless. I'm ready to wear black, sure is hard to not wear black. Then there's a pair of cute brown Palladium shoes and some Palladium boots that I've had my eye on for a while and were 50% off, so I had to try them. I sure hope one works out! Except, my credit card...
I haven't worn my black work pants since new year's because I have no comfortable shoes to wear with them. I currently have seven (7) tabs open on my browser, looking for some black shoes. And I've closed multiple tabs already throughout my days-long searching. Stores in real life either don't have my size or have shit for selection. Some BLACK shoes. If I have found any, in all these websites I've looked at, none of them have them in my size. It shouldn't be this hard! (that's me whining.) I need some new black (and comfortable, yeah sorry there is that stipulation) shoes I can wear to work for my large, wide, falling-arches feet. But listen, I'll put in some insoles so the arch support doesn't have to be built in. Trying to make your life easier, world, 'cause my life sure hasn't been feeling easy lately and I can empathize. Shoes, world, shoes. That's what I ask of you right now.
This isn't what I'd like to be posting after my ode to Cody, but this individual deserves more hateful thoughts from Fresno than just my own. I won't say much because I can't come up with anything more than this person is scared, wants attention in a fucked up way, needs serious psychiatric help, and is also very stupid ("doctors will initially mistake symptoms..."-- yeah I think maybe they'll be able to take a better guess since you sent out all these LETTERS). Fuck head. I have no kind words. This shit makes me mad.
Mark's going to at least one of these bars tonight. Keep your peepers out for this slimy miscreant, brother, and if you see him, slip him some of his own juice.
PS-- The Stranger is one of the best free weekly reads a city has to offer, so I encourage all to read it whenever you can and for Fresno to follow in its footsteps.
Our dog of 15 years passed away yesterday at the vet's with my dad, her best friend, holding her. I was just about to turn 13 when my sister and I picked her up that summer in my mom's minivan and brought her and her cute puppy-ness home (everyone else was away for the weekend)-- she smelled so good and sat on my lap for the drive, even though we had a crate for her in the back. Her name became Cody, and from my memory, we had a hard time coming up with the name that fit her, but one day we put together Biz+Mark, which led to Bismark, North Dakota, which led to Dakota which led to Cody. Or Dakota Lin when we were pretending to be mad at her--Jen added her middle name (whose middle name is also Lin). Dad said she was cheerful as always, and "still beautiful on her last day with her blond coat and apricot ears, well-brushed with the Christmas gift from Mark." She was over 100 in human-equivalent years, and had had problems with her deteriorating hips for the past couple of years which made walking extremely difficult; I don't know how she held on for so long. Most of you knew her. She was great. I said goodbye to her last summer, just in case. That doesn't seem to help.
I took this picture on my phone on May 11, 2008. Gracious, I miss her.
"What makes a man, a man?" A friend of mine once wondered. Is it his origins, the way he comes to life? I don't think so. It's the choices he makes: not how he starts things; but how he decides to end them.
I wear eyeliner and mascara. And in ode to Rebek, I curl my eyelashes. That's the extent of my beauty (haha, beauty) regime. Well, and lotion. Also, I am cheap whenever possible, unless I'm treating myself to life's small pleasures (which now involves the London Fog Tazo tea latte at Starbucks, soy please, no syrup-- actually, it's delicious and I want everyone to experience it so go treat yourself with your Starbucks card you got for Christmas). And speaking of cheap, I bought cheap eyeliner on my last Target makeup run. I got two crayon-pencils for less than the price of one twisty. And then was sorely disappointed when I tried it and had to rub so hard to get any on there. Aargh. My cheap tactics failed! So I complained at work, and Ana, student assistant, told me her trick, which I now share with you all: a lighter! Sharpen pencil as desired, put a lighter under it for a few seconds and move the pencil back and forth. It gets soft, and after you cool it for a few more seconds (if you don't a chunk of eyeliner blobs off) it works like a $10 liner. Or however expensive expensive eyeliners are. I wouldn't know because I shop for makeup at Target.
