Ah Bugger

The vapid utterings of a neurotic mind.

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Location: DC, United States

I ain't too proud to bug.

Friday, September 30, 2005

John "Gromit" Roberts..?

Is it just me, or are they similar???

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Wrote this using a No. 2 pencil

I'm back in school. It's great. I am enjoying it. Strangely, I really like being graded. I like completing an assignment and having a tangible score for the work I did. Maybe it is because it is something that I don't really get anywhere else right now. In any case, I like knowing where I stand, and that A in my class is a pretty clear indicator to me.
I have been harking back to my days of mandated school going. I never did homework. Well, rarely. VERY RARELY. Yet, I skated through schools on a fairly solid C/B average. (Average being the key word.) When I did do my homework, I almost always got an A. So what the hell? I am rather miffed with myself now, knowing that I could have been a straight A student, had I not been so damn lazy. I am irritated with my teachers for not inspiring me to be an A student. I know that you could say that it was my job to be motivated and to do my work, but I was a kid. That is a teacher's job. To inspire. I am not blaming them solely, but I do think they are close to equal with me for my apathy in school. They had no problems encouraging the straight A kids. you know the ones, they loved being in school and doing homework and yadda yadda yadda. They could not have failed if you put a gun to their heads. You know the type.
I did have the occasional teacher, like Mr. Natale, who impressed me, so I wanted to impress him. But for each of him, I had two like Mrs. Alexander, who accused me of cheating on a test on a book I had written an "A" paper on the year before in Mr. Natale's class. She did not even see me "cheating", but just had a feeling and tried to fail me. By the way, I got every question on that test right, and the person I had been cheating off of got a D. I also had my lovely chem teacher whose name I can't remember because I spent most of her class in the hall. Yeah. In the beginning of the year, before my desk was relocated, I asked if I could come after class because I did not get the material. She said no. I said, how about lunch? She said, how about you read the book again and figure it out yourself. Great! Thanks.
Anyhoooooo, loving being back in school. Loving it. It's a good thing, too, because I have another 2.5 years to go.
Anyone wanna sponsor me? Give me a prize for every A I get? The max is 16 prizes, because that is how many classes I have to take.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Enough about you.

I have two bags that I take with me to work. One carries all of my crap. It was a gift bag from the Grammy Awards a few years ago. It has the Grammy logo on one side, and me.net on the other. My other bag was given to me with my subscription to Self magazine. It is where I put my gym clothes.
So, there I am, walking down the hall.






I was having brunch with my mum and Marci this weekend and we found ourselves discussing my mitral valve prolapse. I made some sort of comment that sounded something like Well, having a goofy heart valve isn't all bad. It forces you to stay in shape. I said it because a friend of mine said that to me when he found out like I had MVP like him.
Marci spat out her food laughing because it is fairly well known that I am not an aficionado of exercise. But the part that got me is that I said it in all seriousness. And had she not been there, I would have believed what I said. I am in good shape, but mostly because of good genes and the occassional pull towards a gym. I guess I really surprised myself. I am more deceitful than I thought. But in such a random way. Did I just say it because it sounded like something you should say?

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

I am still here.

I had all sorts of other photos from age 6 and down, but I am bored with that right now. Maybe you will get punished with my absolute adorableness some later time.
Sorry to be so lax on writing. I swear I will eventually have something good. I have just been to damn busy lately, and what with all the writing I have to do for class, I am plumb out of words, I am. AND my arms are like heavy putty that are simply having a hard time maneuvering over the keyboard. (Because I am a master boxer again, and believe me... after two years hiatus, one forgets how much work it is to box for over an hour. But I love it and am sooo glad that I tricked Marci into going to class with me again.) So, life is active for me right now, but maybe that will spark me into having some funny experience. We'll see. Hope my silence ends soon. (But maybe no one has noticed?)
Maybe my silence was in honor of Tree Frog. Miss you so much!

Sunday, September 11, 2005


I went to New York for a few days and in that time went to the World Trade Center site. Sadly, they have made it very hard to view anything, but I managed to snap this photo that shows nothing.
There were a ton of Toronto police in their dress uniforms visiting that day. (It was on Sept. 9th.) There was also a lot of press and other people paying their respects so soon to the anniversary. I had no idea they were going to put up the towers of light again. I wish I could have seen them.
Marci and my friend Roger and I went to NYC a few years ago and managed to see the lights on the night they were extinguished.
It's hard to fathom that two huge buildings stood in this spot a few years ago. (And the other buildings that were destroyed.)
We visited a building that housed the American Express offices. they had lost 11 people on 9/11. They made a beautiful memorial to them called "11 Tears" in their lobby. The memorial has the names of the victims along with a bit of their character engraved in granite with a crystal in the center of a pool. It is so beautiful.

I know that this entry is a bit all over the place. I just wanted to take a moment and remember the events of September 11, 2001. I can't imagine the pain of all the victims and the survivors and the families and friends of everyone affected by this. And in a situation like this, words from me are meaningless.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Sports Illustrated, here I come! Woooo!

Let's go straight to eight. The years 9-12, not too interesting. My 8th birthday was in Oregon. We had a family reunion with my Dad's side of the family. I am the youngest there by far. My uncle is Roger and my cousins teased me that Mr. Rogers was my uncle. I didn't believe them, but... what if...? So I watched the show with a queer eye for that straight guy.
I loved Men at Work and while my siblings and cousins were off doing teenaged things, I was rocking out by my lonesome to "you better run, you better take a bath." which in actuality, as it turns out, goes "You better run, you better take cover." Lesson learned in a car, 20 years later, when I was singing loudly along and my pal turns the radio down and says, "What did you just sing?"
Third grade. I had straight B's and considering I always ran to the bathroom when it was time to turn in homework, it was amazing! I was an uninspired student, to put it lightly. The part that gets me, is that I think that I could have easily been a straight A student. But I need inspiration. Not self driven.
I am wearing a tube top in this picture that I got from a cousin. I guess it had been planned for me to "Euro" it out there in just my wee little shorts at the lake. But even at the tender age of 7 and 363 days, I was not very exhibitionistic. I had that phase many years later and still in a blushy, square sort of way. I guess I don't feel like you need to see what I can offer unless I want you to. So, I wore a tube top and yanked it up all day long.
I think I still look the same. Just a wee bit taller.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Wanna dance? Er.. not really...

This is age 12 or 13. My first formal. It was at a military academy my friend's older brother went to in Pennsylvania.
My mom made this dress for me. I was super self conscious about my concave chest, so I needed a dress with ginormously puffy sleeves. I was soo pretty in my dress and so inept on the dance floor that I stared at my feet the entire time, just kind of rocking in a bizarre manner.
The best part about my dress is that a while later, I went to a party at some rich kid's house and their wallpaper was the same material as my dress. SWEET!
AND I found a picture of my sister from this era. (She was about 17/18.) She had the same hairstyle! It was the thing! I am not just a freak with wings on my head.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Age 12

Ah, first year of junior high school. I don't really remember much specifically about it. I thought having my own locker was pretty damn awesome. My friend Eunice was a forward looking crusher in having a poster of Kelly Slater in her locker. Most people did not realize he was hot until recently. I think I had posters of Cyndi Lauper or something in that vein...
One thing that is vital to know about me from this time in my life is that 7th grade was the beginning of my personal responsibility of my hair. Until then, my mother brushed and braided my hair every single day before I headed off to elementary school.
I was born and lived in Germany until I was close to six, and my mother had some pretty firm ideas about how a young lady should look. Yeah, I heard it all. "Hey, Pippi Longstockings." or they would grab my hair and pretend I was a pony.
So, I was in charge of brushing my hair. My hair was really long and it was a big pain in the butt to brush it, so instead I ran a brush over it to put it into a pony tail at the base of my neck. I also had some super stylin' feathered bangs that I estimate I used an entire container of hairspray on every morning. After a while, the hair at the base of my neck grew into a massive rats nest. A friend spent the night one night and using an entire bottle of detangler, worked a brush through my hair properly. After that, I think I cut my hair. Too damn hard to take care of all that!
Check out the attempt at makeup application in my 7th grade photo. I had some purple eyeshadow and after having applied it one time, my sister remarked to me how similar I was to a panda bear. I loved this red outfit. I got it at Kids R Us. My teeth are HUGE! I used to ask the dentist to file them down. He told me I would grow into them, and I suppose I did. My hair isn't short, it is in the infamous rat's nest ponytail. Enjoy!

Age 13

As you can probably tell, I went rummaging through my mum's old photos. I found a stack and hence the random biographical photo essay.
Since you've met my folks and one of their (the most important one, obviously) creations, I decided to start at age thirteen and go backwards. Mostly, because I have been talking soo much about that age and my desire to be it again. I am a LIAR! I was some serious unfortunate at 13. (Though age 12 was worse. We'll get to that later.)
Some things I recall about myself at age 13. Banana clips, a math teacher who h.a.t.e.d me. I was probably the shortest kid in my class. I had a boyfriend named Scott who had brown hair and blue eyes. We made out by his locker and I felt cooool! I had a core of friends with whom I hung out at Godfather's pizza after school and played Super Mario Brothers at People's Drug. I was damn good at that game. Could play for half an hour on a single quarter.
I was in a confirmation class at my church where I was woefully uncool until the girls took me aside and showed me how to feather my hair and look like a fluffy lion. I greeted my mother at the airport with this delight of a hairstyle and she almost passed out.
My best friend was Kristy was a year under me (and a foot taller. WTF?). She was cool and pretty and taught me how to shave my legs. We traded clothes and makeup, blue makeup. She was the pioneer of the art of practicing kissing pillows, doorknobs, and your own hand. One night I spent the night at her house. (We were practically inseparable.) Kristy had a waterbed and one night I woke up all wet. She was sound asleep. I still question that heavily. Who leaked?
Our group of friends played a lot of spin the bottle that year. I had a friend named Lori (I think her name was Lori) who was my age, but looked a lot older than me. She was also much more socially advanced than I was. (Am?!? Ha!) I tried to have a nice 14th birthday party, but no one came. (Sad, I know.) So Kristy called her boyfriend who arrived with his older brother. The five of us hung out in my parents rec room. After a little while Kristy and her boyfriend were making out and so were Lori and the older brother. That's right. Happy freakin' Birthday to me. This was typical. Poor little Bug.
That was age 13.
So I present to you, with a ton of embarrassment, my 8th grade photo. I actually looked like this. Yikes. Check out the sweet sweatshirt with the multi-colored handprints. The necklace is a penny that had been shot through with a bb gun. I wore it on a chain forever. I wonder if I still have it? The hair is a perm that was brushed through and the feathered side thingies met in the back of my head to create a butt. Hottie!

Friday, September 02, 2005

They made me..

Thursday, September 01, 2005

My folks

Many years ago, one of the laughing boys on the left met the cute girl on the right and so began the saga of BUG.