Insane weekend. It began with a conversation with a cop and ended with a fight with the folks. And in between there was a lot of craziness and eating and good friends and baby drool.

She didn't even know what was wrong. She never even asked. Which is a good thing, because I didn't want to talk about it. But she knew something was not right. She knew I was sad. And so, today, as I was leaving the crazy world of weightloss for lunch, I checked my messages. And she just called to say hi and she hoped my day was going well and she loved me. And that was exactly what I needed at that moment. You have no idea. Thank you so much.

Crap on Blogger. Even though it's a free (so I really can't complain) hosting site and I love my little Endeavors, for the past week every other time I go to post something, there's an internal error, and my posts don't go up for at least several hours. What is the problem, folks? And is there anything I can do to help?

I love to cook. So I really enjoyed dinner last night. Isn't it funny how sometimes you start out with a certain thing in mind, then it becomes something completely different? That's what I love about food. A pasta dish became a chicken and veggies dish. Quite tastey as there was plenty of garlic. Mmmm... The past two nights The Boy has left early, which has put me to bed early, which has gotten me up earlier the next day. And I've done my taebo. Which has been absolutely fantastic. I forgot how explative good it feels to work out. I mean, it completely wakes me up for the whole day and gives me tons of energy. So, just so you know, that's my free advice for the day. Get up and work out. Yea for getting fit again. My heart is happy, too.

I don't feel like having any human interactions today. I had to go into work for 2 1/2 hrs on my day off, and the rest of my afternoon will be spent cleaning and grocery shopping. For the dinner tonight, and for my best friend coming to visit this weekend. Which I am so excited about I might cry. We talked for a really long time last night. It was wonderful. Yet I discovered I was much more depressed than I had originally thought. And too hard on myself. He helped me come to some good realizations. Like I need to see a therapist. And I really miss him. There's a party I've been invited to that I want to attend, however, there will most likely be a certain person there I really don't want to see. Plus I may be going to the airport anyway. But still, I don't want the host to be mad just because I'm an idiot and never want to be in social situations with someone. Which again leads me to no human interactions. Just let me be in my little apartment with my dehumidifier and my crazy loud neighbor who I think is hiding a horse in the kitchen. Please, nobody call me today.

OK, get this load of crap. You're never going to believe it. I called this one when they first started dating. The Shmuck is going to marry the deaf chick. Whatthefuckever is what I have to say to that.

It's official. He's The Boy of My Dreams. Last night he came over and we watched Elimidate, Blind Date, and Change of Heart. The three most hideous shows on tv, but also the three best. And then we talked forever about Stephen Hawking and outer space and travel and wormholes. And there are only two people who truly understand what an amazing turn on that is for me. It's like he got into my head and read my list of everything I want in a guy and then became it. And he left, and all I could think about is how much my heart will break when this ends and how much of a sad, pathetic mass of depression I will be. I wish I could magically be whisked away someplace so I won't have to deal with it. And why do I insist it will end, you ask? Because this is too good to be true and I'm not that lucky.

Well, crap.

My efforts to never meet my neighbors as long as I live here were thwarted today. I was getting out of my car after being at work for 11 hours and a woman next to me is getting out of hers. And she stops me to ask if my ac is working and if my bedroom is too hot because last night she had to sleep on the floor because it was unbearable and her ac doesn't cool off her bedroom and she turns it off during the day and has no fans and she's about to get pissy with the landlord. OHMYGOD. Leave me alone! Now when you have sex, I will know what you look like. Dammit. And what the HELL are you dropping?? Why do you bowl in your kitchen!?! I must know these things.

Let me tell you a secret about girls. We are way more insecure than we let you think. If a girl you are dating asks you what your exs look like, answer her honestly (lying is bad), but--just to let you know--she will never forget. It's not a competition thing. I mean, you broke up with these girls for a reason. It's just to see how we measure up (which, after re-reading that sentence still sounds like a competition thing. You'll just have to trust me. It's not.). See, if you dated dogs, and we were hot, we would be fine. Because in the back of our mind, we are always secretly wondering what would happen if you met someone hotter than us. What keeps you with us in the first place? Physical attraction is definitely part of it. But then you get past that and actually really like the other person for who they are. However, we are always afraid that you will find someone better. Maybe we shouldn't ask in the first place. Actually, that would be best. Then we would never know and never feel self conscious when we're naked. But that's not the way the world works, and girls will always ask guys what their exs looked like. I, unfortunately, have fallen into that trap. And have felt insecure since then. The Boy has dated hot girls with great bodies. It's not like I'm not cute, but my body just doesn't look the way it used to. I think if I wasn't an actor, I would be fine with it, but I am so I'm not. And I know The Boy likes me for who I am (I'm not that big of a moron), and also happens to think I'm cute, but sometimes I wish we could not see each other for a month. And I would get back into shape. With other boys I've dated, I haven't felt this way. But with this one. I don't know. I'm a dork. So, I'm having all of these issues, and not telling anyone about them, when Tosh and I talk today. And she tells me how Brian and her talked about me last night. And even though they are my friends and that was kind of weird, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Speaking of weird, The Boy and I ran into Foxy Boy at the coffee shop yesterday.

Weezer was fun. What was not fun was having my phone ring at 8:30 in the morning, so my dad could tell me to sell all my stocks. My California Fund is in the toilet. Luckily, my plans to move have been pushed back, so I can recover my losses. Yikes. I had a boatload of money at one time. Well, you live and you learn.

And it is...

Fucking Blogger won't publish any of this stuff, so by the time you read it, it will probably be tomorrow.

"So kiss me hard, 'cause this will be the last time that I let you."
--Dashboard Confessional

I am going to see WeeZER. I am going to see WeeZER.
(picture me dancing around my apartment in a one person congo line)

Why is it that we sometimes do things we really don't feel like at the time just to make someone else feel more comfortable? Let us put this into hypothetical terms. Say a friend comes over to hang out. And this friend brings a bottle of wine. And you enjoy drinking wine--occasionally. But you don't feel like it that particular night. Now you have no problem with said friend drinking the wine. By the by, this is incredibly good wine, so you want your friend, who loves to drink this particular type of wine, to enjoy it. You just don't feel like imbibing. And the friend really wants to drink, but not alone, so you have a glass. But you didn't really want to in the first place. And the wine tastes super good. And you enjoy the bottle. But then your friend leaves, and you are still buzzed. And you remember that you never even wanted to have a sip to begin with. And it makes you mad at yourself for socially appeasing this friend. Why do we do that?

P.S. I hate wine.

I can't believe I ate peanut butter and honey by the spoonfulls last night. But, you know?, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Have you ever stubbed your toe so hard you thought you were going to vomit? My baby toenail is crushed. I think I broke myself.

After having two days off in a row (the first time in months), it's very difficult to get up at 7 in the morning to head into an 11 hour work day. Last night as I was falling asleep, I planned what I would do if I won a lot of money. Not even millions of dollars. Even only 20,000 after taxes. And it was a happy thought. What would you do?

This may just be the beginning of the best weekend in the universe. I rolled out of bed at 2, and I'm sitting here in my newly air conditioned apartment. The Boy and I watched Commando last night. I love Arnold. The scripts, plot, and lines are so incredibly bad. Can't wait to see more. Then I'm going to shower and head over to the folks' to do dishes. See, my mom's gone for the next two weeks, and my dad doesn't really care. Yea! I love their dishwasher. Then it's off to Wendy's, which I think is officially my favorite fast food place. Then Tosha is bringing over a phat piece of chocolate cake for us to devour before heading to Cinci to see clips of the film she's shooting, and finally have a face for all of the psychopaths who are stalking her. After that, we're going to get a group of people together for fun and festivities in the evening, and tomorrow The Boy and I are going to watch a golf tournament. The only possible way for this weekend to get any better, is for me to win, like, ten grand whilst playing rub-off bingo from the gas station. You know, I may need to get a card (or twenty) today. And check out how AIDS and Sesame Street go hand in hand.

I saw the most beautiful thing today. As I was driving home from my parents', a family of skunks was waddling across the road. It was so incredibly cute with the potential of being so incredibly stinky. And why is it that when things seem to be going well in life, that's when you get the most depressed? I told my parent's T-Money's possible news. And that sparked a whole (not so good) conversation. My dad, of course, wants me to stay here and marry The Boy, and my mom doesn't think I'll ever amount to anything. I just take it day by day. I wish they could see things that way. But they need a plan and definite answers. And, you know, January is really far away. So what if I don't go then? Maybe I never will. Maybe I'll go by myself. I'm not basing my opinions on other people's plans. This makes no sense to anyone but me, but that's what journals are for. Mine just happens to be public. So, if you are a person I used to work with, don't feel weird that you're reading this. I choose what I share. No one knows the gaudy details of my life, or the demons I wrestle with. Well, maybe one person. Or the thing I'm so afraid of I don't even want to think about. All you know is what I share. Not what I censor.

I'm in a search engine! That's very exciting. A friend of mine who I haven't seen in a long time and is currently residing in Cuba (hi matt!), found my site. Yea for that. (tosha) And this afternoon, one of my client's told me she noticed I had lost weight. Always good. So, all in all, I enjoyed the day.

My ac is still not fixed. Satan got hot, so he went back down to hell. So it's just me here. Typing on my computer with sweaty hands. But, you know, this has been one of the most fun weekends I've had. It's my first one since quitting the camera store. Which, actually, I kind of miss. I was able to swim every morning and there was zero stress. No goals I had to meet. No percentages I had to match. Nothing. I just got paid my hourly wage and went home. I wonder if they'll take me back on the condition that I only work weekdays and no weekends. But the paychecks at the weighloss place are twice that of Click, so I'm not complaining. Yet. I will officially be debt-free as of next month. Much excitement there. So, my weekend. Friday I went to a cookout in Troy with The Boy, and we went to a bar after. Now, I'm not a fan of the bar scene, but this one was actually much fun. We played foosball twice. The first game we were not scored against. But the Long Island had kicked in by the second game and I let a few go by. But we still won. Then a few people went back to his place to play guitar and sing and I finally made it home by 5, only to be up in two hours for work. I rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and put on some business clothes. I felt so nasty--same make up and hair as the night before--but work was fine. Actually, a little more fun being loopy. Kelly, a counselor, loves me, and everything I say cracks her up, so we had a ball. Then I came home and washed the stink of the bar off me (in a cold shower, mind you. On purpose), and The Boy and I went to the driving range for a golf lesson. Now, I've never played before. And it was kind of sad. I mean, there were times I would swing and completely miss the ball. But at least I had a couple of good hits, so it wasn't completely embarassing. Plus there were two twelve-year-olds next to us who were about as good as me, so that helped my ego. And Tosh just called me to tell me we had been invited to hang out with two cute boys in their hot tub and have some beers. I'm on my cell with her, and she's i-m-ming the boy. I have to go talk to her. This is too difficult, I can't concentrate. And the conversation is hysterical. More later...

I have to go deal with fat, depressed women for the next five hours on two hours of sleep. Lord help us all.

The Boy and I are making advances in our relationship. He met my folks, I met his friends. And we can now fart in front of each other. Some say that's disgusting. I say that's progress.

My air conditioner is broken. I would rather be tucked under Satan's schvetty bolls than in my apartment right now.

I go to my partents' today to do laundry, and the first thing my sister says to me is not "hi." It is not, "What's up?" It is, "I had a poop so big today I think I lost about five pounds." Then my parents jump in, "Yeah, your father had to go up there and break it up with a yardstick so it would go down the toilet. It looked like the loch ness monster." OHMYGOD!! I did not need to know the details like that. And I pray for the love of all that is good and pure that they threw away the yardstick.

I watched Cast Away tonight with The Boy. And it's one of my favorite movies. But tonight was different. The plane crash disturbed me in a way it never had before. As Tom Hanks is fighting his way to the top, out of the water, my thoughts turned to Aaron. And I wondered how hard he struggled, and what it was like. And what he looked like when they finally found him two days later. And what did he think about right before he died. And I can't believe he's really gone...

Please don't ask me what I'm thinking. Please don't ask what I'm thinking.
You know you've got it bad when you make yourself want to puke. And I try not to think about January. And I try not to think about how my heart will break. But when he looks at me I just melt. Ugh. BLECGHK. Gag. I know. I know. Whatever. Get over it. :p