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...over-educated and under-experienced, or so they say...

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Lectures From Sunshine

Sunshine:  BLOG WITHDRAWLS!!!! …and that's all I'm gonna say … and while you were up last night being silly drinking wine you could've wrote a blog! …because i NEED ONE!!!!!  It’s been crazy hell for me in the personal realm and i need a damn blog to read to lift me up and make me feel better… and i said that was all i was going to say but i had to keep going

Pandora:  Hahaha!  I’m sorry.  I have been insanely busy the past month.  I will be blogging this weekend, I promise.

Sunshine:  …and writing in the book you’re working on… because you owe me…  this is your reminder…

Pandora:  Yes, I do owe you. 

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Meant To Be

The phrase "if it's meant to be" came up in conversation recently.  I responded with something like, "there is no meant to be, there is only right now."  Of course, that comment of mine was pretty vague and it lingered with my own thoughts for quite some time.  I finally decided that to some extent Life has bested me at the "romantic notion game" and while some people may see it as Jaded Pandora, I see it as Realistic Pandora.

"Meant To Be" is pretty much synonymous with "destiny" or "fate."  And to make an already complicated notion even more difficult, most people fail to notice that their idea of "meant to be" is really "what I want it to be."  It is an overly romanticized idea that has no practical or realistic value.

I remember driving down the road at 26 and thinking about how I never dreamed I would be a divorced woman, how I never dreamed I would be a single parent, and how disappointed I was to be in that situation and hadn't followed through with my original plan to stay the academic course all the way through my PhD.  And I remember thinking that I was certain love was real when I made the decision to marry, and I was certain it was "meant to be" when I dropped out of college to marry this man.  And I remember telling myself, as I drove down the road, that I guess it wasn't "meant to be," because if it had been it wouldn't have gone down the way it did.

And I remember pulling myself up by the boot straps and getting myself back into college and eventually graduate school because having my PhD and becoming a college professor was "meant to be."  What I didn't see coming was another round of custody battles that would eventually deplete me financially, psychologically, and emotionally.  What I didn't see coming was that the needs of my child would ultimately far outweigh my need to be a professor.  And what I didn't see coming was that I would have to choose between what I perceived to be my purpose and my "destiny" and what was truly my purpose and "meant to be" -- Mother and Sole Provider.

And I remember fighting my way into the corporate world, and I remember talking my way into a comfortable position and I remember thinking, "this wasn't supposed to be how it went down, but here I am."  And I remember keeping men at bay because they were not to be trusted, and I remember creating a list for myself for what I wanted in a man, were I to magically meet The One.  And I remember thinking that, a few years after I had made that list, I truly believed I had met The One and I once again believed this was "meant to be," but we all know how that one turned out so... shame on me... shame on my overly romantic tendencies and my apparent failure in realizing that I truly have no fucking idea what is "meant to be," except for everything that has happened to me thus far was "meant to be."

Truth is, the only thing that is "meant to be" is that I exist in this world, that I have a path I'm walking and while I dream and plan and do my best to become the vision in my head, there's no telling what may happen when the random storm passes through.  I'm like The Dream House that I always wanted, but I was dumb enough to build it in tornado alley and every so often I have to look at the rubble that was left behind and rebuild.  Each time I tell myself I will make it bigger and better and stronger and it will withstand the elements.  Unfortunately, the nature of the beast is unpredictable, and even if I were to move out of tornado alley, I still have to contend with earthquakes and hurricanes and floods and hell... maybe even a little war here and there.  The only thing I truly know is what is happening right now.

Right now there are people that had once been a part of my journey down this road, but they have taken other turns or left or passed away.  Then there are the people that crossed my path long ago that still seem to walk alongside me and I love them and enjoy them.  And then there are new people that cross my path and touch my life in new and exciting ways, and I can hope they stick around a while and become strong and solid relationships like the people I have beside me already, but one never knows what the road will bring and one can never predict the outcome of "meant to be," nor does anyone really know what was "meant to be" until a while after it has come and gone so... I see no point in going there.

Walk the walk, ride the wave, hold on tight, and enjoy.
Dream if you want to, dreams are good, but ... tread lightly with "meant to be."

Monday, May 21, 2012

21st Century Potluck

I grew up the daughter of a Baptist Minister.  Back in the 70s and  80s, in the Baptist environment, we had potlucks all the time.  We had Wednesday night Bible study potlucks, and Thursday night potlucks that I'm not sure why we had them but we had them, and we had Friday night potlucks which, again I can't really remember why we had them but I can assume it was because it was a Friday night and we were Baptist so you really weren't allowed to go play cards or dance or go out for a drink or anything so you might as well have a pot luck, right?  And then there were Sunday night potlucks sometimes (because in those days Baptists were big on Sunday night church, in addition to the three morning services we already had, and so it made sense to break up the monotony sometimes and have a potluck and eat while simultaneously singing some hymns or something).  And then, of course, there were the church picnics that were also potlucks, but... at least you had a playground and maybe even a swimming pool somewhere close by so you could potentially make it through the entire day without enduring the "potluck" part of things.

I can't fully explain my aversion to the potluck.  I have mental screen shots of being somewhere around 5 years old where my dad would walk me through the potluck line and put a little bit of everything on my plate without asking me if I wanted it or not (and, having been a parent now, I'm sure he didn't ask me because he knew I needed to eat something and he also knew I would say no to everything on the table).  And I remember sitting at the table and seeing some strange green bean casserole on my plate, and some homemade potato salad, and some homemade macaroni salad, and some random vegetables (including radishes), and maybe I was lucky enough to have a piece of fried chicken (but it always seemed to be homemade fried chicken that was dry and bland and overcooked so... there goes that hope of tastiness...).  And then there was always some crazy green jello mold thing with cottage cheese in it and... well... there never seemed to be anything that my mom cooked on my plate and... at 5 years old, you really knew nothing except for the fact that your mom's cooking was trustworthy and everything else on your plate at the moment was questionable.

Years later, I find myself in a position where I'm at a potluck with my own daughter and it's a completely different experience.  For my daughter, she will most likely have bad ass memories of "potlucks" that I never had.  Why?  Because the potluck these days seems to be planned by that select group of ladies that have husbands wealthy enough to let them stay home and do nothing but make the home and such.  So these ladies plan an event and designate it as a potluck, but the majority of us are working so... this means you don't get green bean casseroles or crazy jello that comes from molds with cottage cheese somewhere in the mix.  This means that you get people that quickly drive through McDonalds and buy fifty 99 cent cheeseburgers and you get to stand in line and watch the woman in charge of the potluck hand out cheeseburgers from the paper bag to anyone willing to take them.  This means that there's about five boxes of Hot-N-Ready pizzas from Little Ceasars on the potluck table because another working parent stopped there on the way home.  This means that there are buckets and buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken on the table which is awesome because you know FOR CERTAIN it isn't overcooked and dry because, well, it's KFC (and if I weren't a Celiac, I'd totally eat that).  And sure, there's the one lady that had the time to make a homemade pot of Chicken Albondiga Soup, but there's also the one lady that still had enough guilt in her soul to drive all the way home from work and quickly chop up some lettuce and put in a bowl and try to pass it off as a salad, completely oblivious to the fact that the women behind the potluck table were wondering what the hell to do with that shit because there was no dressing or anything, just a bowl of lettuce.

I'd still like to take a moment to tell that lady that I think she's a bad ass for two reasons: 1) in the face of pizza and cheese burgers and fried chicken, the kids weren't going to eat any kind of salad anyway, even if she had thrown in some cranberries, feta cheese, sunflower seeds, bacon bits, and some bad ass vinaigrette dressing and 2) I'm a Celiac, and as bland and tasteless as that shit may have been, it was one of the only things on that stupid table I could eat and thank God I was smart enough to notice the Ranch dressing in the veggie tray behind it (which also reminds me, I need to give props to the genius that thought up the pre-made veggie tray because I'm pretty sure your mom was the one that always took the time to chop up the veggies and present them at the church potluck on her best china, and you were smart enough to grow up and make millions because you knew the future of the working world and people like me would forever bring the pre-made veggie tray to social events... God bless you, whoever you are... you are a smart and insightful individual and I wish I would've met you and married you and lived happily ever after off the fact that all you did was make millions from a really simple idea that everyone else was too dumb to figure out).

I don't know what else to say except, sort of like American politics, it may be time to recognize the traditional way of doing things doesn't apply anymore. If you have a situation where everyone is making a quick and random stop just to include a food item which could be McDonald's cheese burgers and Little Caesars Hot N Ready pizzas, you may need to realize that this is a time in American History where the art of the potluck (if you can call it that) is completely lost.  We live in a time of convenience.  And, at least in my world, it may be more beneficial to send out a memo saying, "We want to throw a get together, please contribute 10 to 20 dollars, and we will have ... cater the event."  I guarantee you, knowing myself and people like myself, that will fly.  Why?  Because we will probably spend that amount to feed our family random restaurant dinner or drive thru something or other on any given night of the week anyway so... go ahead, pool that money and make something happen.  But... I know what I'm saying makes everyone go into some kind of irrational tizzy that makes no sense to them or myself (that is to say, when they try to explain their irrational tizzy I have this moment where my mind breaks down because I can't figure out why this is a problem when it makes perfect sense to me but... okay... have it your way... I'll bring potato salad that came from the Albertson's deli across the street if I have to just to keep the potluck peace, even if no one eats it because there are five other potato salads from Costco on the table to choose from -- no one has time to peel potatoes and boil them and mix them in some strange mayo goo anymore either, but it still seems to be a potluck staple).

None the less, someone has to be the voice of potluck reason and well... at least tonight... it's me.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

The Queen's Dilly

(Pandora visits the satellite office)

Pandora:  (knocks on the cubicle wall) Caesar?

Caesar:  (turns around) Pandora?

Pandora:  Caesar...

Caesar: PandOora...  What?  Is today your day to step into Office Vietnam?

Pandora:  Apparently.  And considering the rants running through my head right now, it's also surround me with stupid people day.

Caesar:  Really?  I thought that was yesterday.  Is this becoming an epidemic?  Should we send out a bulletin?

Pandora:  Well, we may need to submit a warning to our fellow members of the intelligent underground.  There does seem to be something amiss in the universe right now.

Caesar:  Are you about to make a Mercury retrograde comment again?

Pandora:  No.  Although, I should probably ask around about that one.  I was informed that Venus is retrograde for the next six weeks, but that's supposed to affect one's love life, of which I have none, so I think I'm in the clear, but it may affect you and... I suppose that could be why so many stupid people are drawn to me right now.  I mean... something has to go wrong with my public relations right?  No love life but... if a planet needs to screw with me then why not send some stupid people, right?

Caesar:  Huh.  I don't know, but thanks for telling me about that.  Now I will pay attention to things that happen and I will have an excuse ready to go.

Pandora:  Just remember, that excuse is only valid through the end of June.

Caesar:  Hmmm...  (looks at his email)  Oh hey!  Dilly bars!  By the printers!

Pandora: ...dilly what?

Caesar:  (looks at her like she's stupid)  BARS...

Pandora:  Dilly bars?

Caesar: ...

Pandora:  I'm serious.  I've never heard of this before.

Caesar: How could you not?!  How sheltered have you been ALL YOUR LIFE... AGAIN?!  This is your basic ice cream product from Dairy Queen!!!

Pandora: (shrugs)

Caesar:  That's it.  Wait here.  (goes around the corner and comes back with a  Dilly Bar)

Caesar:  This, my friend, is a Dilly Bar.

Pandora:  um... that looks somewhat Freudian there.

Caesar:  Oh yeah... I am about to lick this big chocolate nipple!  

Pandora: ...

Caesar:  This is nothing but a big choconip with an even larger areola.  In a matter of seconds, let's just say this dilly will never be the same again.  (picks the thing up and ever so gently kisses it)

Pandora: ... 

Caesar:  You may want to walk away now.  You aren't going to want to see what's about to go on over here.

Pandora: Right.  Well, I do have a valid question.

Caesar:  What?  You want to lick my chocolate nipple?

Pandora: No, I don't want to lick your chocolate nipple.

Caesar: Oh, okay.  No problem.  I offer it more than I probably should anyway.  (continues to work the dilly)  Besides, Venus is retrograde right now, so I'm all confused. 

Pandora:  Seriously... can you please refrain from working the dilly and answer my question.

Caesar:  The Dilly... she's going to melt soon if you don't and the only place this baby needs to be melting is in my mouth.  

Pandora:  ...

Caesar:  All right, shoot.

Pandora:  I need to know the contact information for the engineer you're working with on the 83rd job.

Caesar: (working the dilly)  Engineer?  What engineer?

Pandora:  You know... the engineer in charge of the project for the city?  The main contact?

Caesar:  (not looking at anything but the stupid dilly ice cream bar)  Engineer in charge?  Main contact?

Pandora:  Oh my god... You know what I'm talking about.  Perhaps Project Manager is a better title?  Does that ring a bell?

Caesar:  Oh!  (licks the chocolate off his lips)  That guy!  What, you need me to call him?

Pandora:  No, I need to call him.

Caesar: (licking the bottom side of the dilly)  So you want me to dial him now and put him on speaker.

Pandora:  No, man, I need you to give me his contact info and I will call him myself.

Caesar:  (loving on the dilly)

Pandora:  dude... will you please just take a bite out of that thing already?

Caesar:  Don't be a hater, Pandora.  They do have Buster Bars.  You may need to pick one up on the way home.  You're extremely uptight right now.

Pandora:  ...

Caesar:  All right.  His name is George Zingerbacher.  Let me finish having my moment here with Dilly and I'll send you his info.  What you got against this thing anyway?  It is the yummiest nipple I've ever had.

Pandora:  well... look at it.  They so did that on purpose.  It has to be a representation of some lady somewhere.  

Caesar:  Of course it is!  It's a representation of the Queen Herself!  

Pandora:  Awesome...  The Queen's man had pet names for her glory and he made a chocolate ice cream bar to commemorate them and now everyone is excited to lick the Dilly.

Caesar:  Dang... This conversation is starting to remind me of that Family Guy episode where Peter turned into Mrs. Garrett's chest.

Pandora: What?

Caesar:  You know, Mrs. Garrett?  From The Facts Of Life?

Pandora:  Oh, sure, but those would be strawberry vanilla, not chocolate.

Caesar:  You're right.  ... oh man... that's a bad image now.  I need to think of something else.

Pandora:  How about you think about the Zingerbacher guy and get me his contact info.

Caesar:  Good idea.  (turns to his computer to print off the contact info and starts singing)  "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have, the facts of life.  ...the facts of LIFE!"

Pandora:  Please don't do that.

Caesar:  "there's a time you gotta go and show you're growing now you know about the facts of life... the facts of LIFE!"

Pandora:  This is disturbing me.

Caesar: (hands Pandora the contact info)  Now, you go do what you need to do here, but I want you to promise me that you will go get a Buster Bar and chill out.

Pandora:  (takes the paper from his hand)  Yes, I will be sure to do that.

Caesar:  Leave me and Dilly alone now.  We need some alone time.  

Pandora:  (chuckles)  Thanks.  Take it easy, man.

Caesar:  Orale...

Pandora:  Simon...

(as Pandora walks away from his cubicle she hears him break into one last lyric:  "The facts of life are all about yooooooooooooooou....")

Pandora:  ...sigh...

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Silver Chip

It’s been 9 months. Today is day #270. It is important to note that I have stopped counting, somewhat.  I mean, I used to count because it hurt.  Now I'm just counting because I committed to count out to 365.  In other words, I have reached the point of counting out of obligation to the task I set for myself as opposed to counting because I'm keeping track (if that makes any sense at all).

In the past 9 months I’ve experienced rage and bitterness, absolute sadness and depression, self-awareness and corner turning, and now this.

In the past three months, since achieving my “bronze chip” in February, I’ve made a conscious effort to shake off the bitter. It still pops up every once in a while, but I’ve learned to catch it when it happens and shut it down.

I’ve done my best to understand that this man created a bit of hell for himself through his own actions and, while I know he hurt me and my daughter, I also know he devastated himself.

I’ve done my best, and continue to do my best, to remind myself that this is something that had to happen the way it did because, had I married the man the way he is, it would have ultimately ended far worse (and significantly less humorous) than being dumped by the dumpster via text message six days before the wedding.

I have taken the advice of one of my greatest friends to heart and I have worked to remember who I am and own it.

I have made a conscious effort to practice forgiveness, not because I hope to mend this relationship someday but because the lack of forgiveness is harmful to myself and to my daughter.   

I have taken the energy that was somewhat destroying me and turned it into something that reconstructed me.

I have focused on my intellect.  I have focused on my creativity.  I have focused on my daughter.  I have focused on the few personal goals and dreams I have left.  And I have been better for it.

I have three more months before I hit my year mark.  To be honest, like I said, I'm not even sure why I'm counting anymore, other than the fact that I made a point to do so -- I made a point to track my journey of recovery and I gave myself a year.  And so... I think it needs to be said that in 9 months, as much as this bull shit hurt when it went down, I like who I've become, and continue to become, in the process.  I like what appears to be rising from the ashes.  I like embarking on something new.  And I like, for the first time in my life of weird ass bull shit experiences that I've had, that I actually paid attention to my own metamorphosis as I went through this lame ass shit.  (because most of the time, people just go through it blindly and wake up one day saying something like, "damn... I'm better than I was before, go figure!" and at least this time I have paid attention to the details leading up to the moment)

As Forest Gump said, shit happens... and his mama said, "you got to put the past behind you before you can move on," and sometimes if you just keep on running, even when you don't feel like it, you will eventually reach that point when you realize you're ready to go home.

My name is Pandora, and I have successfully completed 9 months of rejection recovery. 

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Growing Pains

All right, so there is a new website for this in the works.  It's not completed yet, but it is nearly ready.  I am extremely excited about this and it feels like a commitment of some kind, to myself, and one that I've never made before.  Strange part is, while I'm waiting for this, I seem to have lost my inspiration.  It's like I've fallen off the wagon or something and I'm waiting to get back on my feet before I know that I will be going on the long distance run of my life.  Bear with me.

Writing is the one true thing that makes me happy and feeds my soul.  Writing... is the one dream I have left.  Making you laugh, making you cry, making you angry, and making you have the sappiest warm fuzzies here and there that make you puke even as you enjoy them makes me the happiest person on Earth (at least in my own mind).

Again, I say, bear with me.  And... dream with me too, because ... dreaming and chasing the dream down is what makes life beautiful.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

Something Bit Me!

Aside from the fact that I love the mild winter here, my favorite time of year in Phoenix is spring.  The weather is awesome, particularly in the evening, and I love to sit outside.  The problem is... shit bites me!

The hell is that?  I live in the damn desert, for God's sake!  It's dry here!  Really dry here!  If you live here you have to drink twelve thirty-two ounce glasses of water a day just to shed your skin like a healthy reptile!  There's none of this "water water everywhere" thing going on, and generally that is required for the mosquito world, so will someone please explain to me how the damn mosquitoes find their way here and then select me as their favorite target?!

Creatures... they are AWFUL creatures!  I can't find a reason for their existence in this ecosystem aside from keeping the human population level in some kind of death toll balance.  I absolutely hate them!  This is a time when I wear sun dresses, this is a time when I show some skin, and this is a time when they decide to mark up my flesh with red bumps that itch and piss me off in more ways than one!  Is this Florida?  NO!  This is the desert!  Someone call the feds and tell them we have an immigration problem!  The mosquitoes have decided they like it better here and we can't stop them from coming and stealing our lifeblood and leaving stupid marks on our body right before we decide to dress to the nines and impress someone!

Seriously... I was out on my patio the other night, and I when I came back in there were two glorious red bites on my left arm.  When I was at work the next day, talking to a specific gentleman about a certain document I needed him to sign, I noticed that he kept focusing on the bumps on my arm.  It really started to bug me.  I mean, if he were focused on my cleavage or something at least I would know I had him distracted enough to sign anywhere without thinking much about it, but when staring at inflamed red bumps on my arm I can only imagine what could be flying through his mind:  "Whoa... Is she ill?  Is that a disease?  Does she have chicken pox or shingles or something?  Oh my god... she's touched the same pen and paper she's asking me to touch!  Am I going to get what she's got?!"

I'm not kidding.  The man was entranced by the stupid bites on my arm.  I finally looked at him and said, "Yes, I got bit by some mosquitoes or something the other night."  And after he realized that he had been caught staring at the more unattractive parts of my body he replied, "Well honey, that's just because you're so sweet."  Really...?  Just sign the damn easement.  I know what paranoid thoughts were flying through your head old man.  Sign it.

I did leave that moment irritated.  I did leave that moment thinking about how I need to eat more garlic or something because, it works on vampires so... might as well give it a shot.  And... because I'm so sweet?!  ugh... that's such an old one... will someone come up with something new?  Seriously, I'm not that sweet.  I may have been prior to ... hell, I don't know... 15?  But I'm full of piss and vinegar these days and they're still biting the shit out of me.  How about you say something to me like, "Well... something's gotta bite you because apparently you've not had any luck in the bedroom lately so... at least the mosquitoes think you're worth it."  Man... if dude had said that to me I would've laughed out loud and actually paid him a dollar to sign that damn document.  But no... that's not how it goes.  Shit bites you, leaves itchy ugly marks, and then some idiot tells you it's because you're sweet.

Are you reading this blog?  I'm not sweet, man... I... am... not... sweet... and apparently the mosquitoes like it that way.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Expressive Cad Files

So, have you ever wondered what your life looks like to one of your engineer friends?  If you're like me, you have, because most of the time (as much as you love them) you are always wondering if they really get it.  Today, as I did my best to explain to my engineer friend what I was going through, she suddenly sent me this:

This is my experience in the last week and a half to my engineer friend via cad file.  (cad file is something only a certain group of you will know)  I'd have to say she did a pretty nice job on the chi chis, though I do despise the fact that the woman that is stabbing me in the back has better chi chis than I do, particularly since hers are purchased and mine are aux natural.  I would still have to say, she did an excellent job and these are better stick figures than I could create on my own.  The one part she was unable to represent was the part where my nerves are so shot I've been throwing up for no good reason for the past five days.  (leave it to an engineer to forget to represent the part where one's emotions  overrule logic and reason to the point of vomiting in a toilet bowl approximately a pound a day for no good reason aside from the fact that your jacked up world is gray, not black and white). 

I will, however, cherish forever that this is a time stamp in my life and done via cad file.  I just pray that I don't accidentally open this bullshit up in a business meeting when I meant to open the file for the Power Rd. Project instead.  

(god knows... even metaphorically speaking... this is nothing like Power Road...)

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Random Thoughts

I kicked a midget once.  I know that sounds horrible, but I had no choice.  He completely invaded my personal space in the worst way.  I mean... what would you do if you were me and you were sitting on a bar stool and a drunk midget jumped into your lap screaming something like "OH!  I WANT YOUR FISHY!" right before diving his head into your holy of holies?!  I so kicked him... I kicked him all the way across the room.  God forgive me.

I'm not sure, but I think it may be a mortal sin if you fart in an elevator right before you step out and let other people walk inescapably into it as the doors shut behind them.  I'm not kidding.  I think that may be evil.  Why would you do that?!  Why would you fart in the elevator just so innocent people can be tortured on the way up to the fifth floor?!  Shame... shame on you elevator farting man.... (melt my face off why don't you...)

Speaking of melting my face off, if you have a cat that pees on your clothes, please don't wear those clothes to work and then come speak to me in my cubicle.  Thank you.

...the hell is up with this Wedge Salad bull shit?  Have you ever been unfortunate enough to order one of those stupid things, because you saw the words bacon and blue cheese crumbles in the description and thought it sounded perfect, only to have a plate brought out to you with a quarter wedge of some stupid Ice Berg lettuce, a fucking steak knife, and some bacon bits and blue cheese crumbles on the side?  ...the hell is that?!  That's not a salad!  That's not even art!  What is that?  Some creative way to get rid of a completely worthless vegetable that no one really eats any more so you have to trick us into ordering it?!  Dude... don't do it.  If you see the words "Wedge Salad" on a menu, do not be deceived!  DO NOT BE DECEIVED!!!  They are merely fooling you into paying somewhere between 5 and 15 dollars for something I wouldn't even serve my pet rabbit!  (if I had a rabbit... I don't really think rabbits make good pets though... too many pellets)

Someone please tell the bus boy in the cafeteria that we are not impressed with his ability to swat the germs off the counter-tops with a towel.  Someone please teach him to use disinfectant and to perhaps do a little scrubbing.  I think that might be a useful skill and one that is most likely included in the job description.

I'm pretty sure that's not beef in the Delimex Beef Tacitos.

I'm also pretty sure one should never eat anything with the word Whiz in the title.  ...seriously...

A wise man once said, you should never apologize for smelling like bacon.  Not that what he said right there was wise, but I laughed when he said it and... he's pretty wise.

I decided that driving behind a bus on a two lane highway is like standing in line behind the guy that's buying 20 scratch off lottery tickets at the Quicky Mart.  ...so irritating...

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Eerie Street

Nobody's seeing nobody,
yet nobody's free
Nobody's hurting nobody... cuz
nobody's saying a thing.

Ya sure, you're waking up lonely,
but at least you can breathe.
There's always you in the mirror,
even if you can't see.

And all that you wanted
was somebody to share.
Pack up your heart, Dear,
and tell somebody who cares.

Ya sure, you wish you were faded,
but drinking ain't cheap.
And ya sure, you'd rather be laughing but...
you can't get nothing for free.

Nobody's loving nobody...
past themselves they can't see.
Ain't no love going on here
when You're all that You need.

And all that you wanted
was to spread some new wings.
Open your eyes, Dear,
and set yourself free.

Friday, May 4, 2012

"I like meat... uh... I mean..." -- Pandora

Okay, so at least three of you have now said something to me today about Blog Neglect.

I do apologize.

I have had, since Sunday, a series of little earthquakes, some good some bad, that left my head somewhere off in the stratosphere and way too clouded to think or create.  However, I do promise to pick the pace up this weekend and I will be back at the blogging with a vengeance -- this I promise.

Until then, remember to be selective when employing the word MEAT in a sentence.  You may regret using it if you don't think it through first. ;-)