Report on llamas, ala a seven year old.. But written by ME. (A straight A student.)

Llamas are hilarious.
They look like they wear fluffy wigs and fantastic gogo boots.
They look much like Michael Jackson, especially in the eye area. Llamas will stare at you and make you nervous. (Stop looking at me, Llama.)
Llamas will spit at you, too. So be prepared to duck.

Llamas make me laugh. I wish I had full bodied hair and long eye lashes like a llama.
The end.

Cancel my collagen shot.

I got punched in the face today. hard. by a big guy.

I am officially tough!

Man shopping.

I was just perusing match.com. Apparently being single is a big travesty and when people find out that I am single, they always try to get me to use one of the online dating programs that are available. So I decided to see what the fuss was about.
Now, one thing that is important to know is that it is difficult to meet people in DC. (One good way to get a boyfriend is to keep your ugly talons in some other girl's boyfriend.) But that makes for some possibilities, I guess, on these matchmaking websites.
So, I went on to Match.com. I found what I considered to be a good-looking feller. I pull up his photos and read his file. Alas, sarcasm is a turn-off for him. We'd never work out. But I looked around some more and the whole thing struck me as bizarre. Perusing men on these websites is like shopping for an MP3 player on Overstock.com. You look over the photos. You check out the measurements. You decide if the features suit your needs. Hmm, that one is too complicated. Oh, that one does not have enough memory. Oh, that one does not come in the colors I want. Bizarre.
I guess I will wait to do it in the old fashioned way.
See a hottie across the bar. Drink until I have enough courage. Head over and make an ass of myself in person.

On a related note (see below)

I like wine. But I don't like to imbibe so much anymore.
I like to feel things entirely. I think it is the scariest feeling in the world. But I need to experience the emotions completely. Maybe it comes with my character of wearing my emotions on my sleeve. So when I am sad, I like to be completely sad. Watch a sad film, listen to desperate music, close my eyes and be completely sad. Tonight, red wine fits the mood. It is so smooth and velvety, yet heavy and (I dunno, for lack of better words) it tastes sad.
I don't know if letting myself get enveloped by a feeling is helpful, but it does seem to allow me to shake it off fairly quickly.
But I wonder if I allow myself to delve into happiness and anger as much as I do with sadness. But isn't it so much easier to indulge in sadness, because it is so isolated. There are so many songs and films and such to further facilitate this feeling.
I dunno.

I like wine.

I am sad.

I will be fine tomorrow.

I miss him

Will I ever move on?

Gold Cup, 3 years running

Okay, it was HARD to get up on Saturday to get out to nowhere, VA to see the horse races. It may have had something to do with the snark and the vodka from the night before. Marci came over for our weekly "America's Next Top Model" get together on Friday night. But she got there late and it takes us a good two hours to watch that show as I feel the need to punctuate it with comments. We also like to wager on who is gonna be the next to go.. And Marci does a kickass impression of Tyra's ridiculous voice at the end of the show.

"In my hands I have the pictures of ten girls. The girls who are in my hands will go on to tease each other into vicious eating disorders. (Game on!!)"

Our night lasted well into the wee hours. What can I say. We like to chat. But 10:00 AM rolled around way too quickly.

To get to Gold Cup, one must take Rte. 66. GAH! Hate Rte. 66. HATE! H.A.T.E! People drives like exceptional idiots on 66. That's saying a lot in DC.

Once at Gold Cup, we had to park farther back. Whaaa? We always get rockstar parking. Oh Marci, I have a bad feeling. Sure enough, we won nothing. No bets, no baskets, no hotties. NOTHING! But we did score candy.

And booze. (Though they ran out of vodka pretty much right away, much to Marci's chagrin. She cried.) They did, however, have a ginormous bottle of Bailey's. Bailey's? Whaa? Why? There was not even coffee. Who drinks Bailey's? On a nice day? In the middle of the day..?

I wish I had some pictures of the fashion atrocities at GC. It seems that people use this occasion for the most ridiculous ensembles. Like skin-tight brown velvet pants, or a three inch white skirt on a 200 pound 5'3" girl. (NO!) One girl walked around, super important on her cell phone, never noticing her zipper was WIDE open. I would have told her but I did not want to interrupt her conversation.

Since I do not have photos of them, I do have a photo of me and Marci trying on sweet hats. I need a cowboy hat. (And those cowboy boots I showed you in July. I still want them and that means I should have them because God knows I deserve them. And I went to two churches today, so God wants you to buy them for me.)

Afterwards we hit the new wing of Tyson's Corner mall. Not that impressed, though I like all of the furniture stores. Starving, we headed off to Sweetwater Tavern where we finally were treated in the manner to which we are accustomed. There we enjoyed a pumpkin ale.

Mmmmm. I love this time of year.

Stop it.

Why do people feel this urge to tap on the glass of aquariums or cages? What makes you think that it's a great idea?
Can you imagine being in a very small glass room, probably nestled into some delightfully comfortable material like astroturf, or cedar chips; and then suddenly some idiot comes and bangs on the outside walls of your crappy home. It echoes. It reverberates. And shaken, you look up to see an ugly face peering in at you.
Stop tapping the glass.

From the BBQ at my mom's house

I'm pouring out some hooch for my homey Clussy, who was unable to attend. Please note the righteous gang sign. Mmm hmm. And how hard I am concentrating... don't wanna waste the booze. I mean, for word! (and call me J.Lo, and I will kick your ass.)

Lights out!

Ooh, my power just went out. That was kind of cool. Especially since I was sitting here with my laptop on my knees and it stayed on. Blessed battery. I used to love it when the power went out. We'd light ten million candles and cook by firelight. (Over candles? Naw.. silly... fondue.) The lights are back on now, but for a few moments, it was utter darkness save for the light from my laptop. I love that. I wish it had lasted a bit longer because to take away the sight so completely for a moment really allows you to focus on whatever is inside your head. (Though I hope to never have sight taken away from me.) But it makes you think about all the things you've got. Maybe I should stop crying about what I don't have, and dive into what I do. 'Cause as it turns out, I think I have quite a lot. Lucky.

Staying in tonight...

It's Friday night and I decided to stay home, make spaghetti and watch some long overdue tv. (Long overdue as I don't seem to have much tv watching time lately... Crazy, I know it!) The spaghetti was good and the tv was alright.
My dilemma is that it's Friday night, I'm single, I actually had a date lined up and I chose to stay home instead. I don't want to go to bars. I don't want my clothes, hair and lungs to be inundated with smoke. I don't want to drink. I don't want to date. I don't want to get to know new people. I want to stay home and make spaghetti (or whatever). I want to take care of someone else. I want that whole domesticated bliss. I know! Whoever would have thought?!?
Sigh.

Hmph.

My mum and I were at breakfast on Sunday and the waiter gave her a glass ofwater saying, "For the lady."
She responds, indicating me "What about the tramp?"

!

OMIGOD!

I somehow broke onto here whilst at work! I am so excited. Especially because I am so freaking bored. This is just such a gleeful moment for me. I am not blocked. What the heck is going on. Useless post, I know, but hey! Big freakin' moment!
I feel like I am gonna fit in again. I can be like all of my diabloggers and read blogs while I am at work. I can actually catch up on everyone's lives. I get to be like you guys. It's about damn time.
Seriously. It's like I am a little kid that just stumbled onto a stash of candy. I am cramming in these formerly blocked sites as quickly as I can, because who knows? They could be blocked again in a second, and I would cry.

Amalah

I am a total voyeur in this woman's life, but it is her own damn fault. She writes so well and entertains the hell out of me that I am forced to visit her site at least once a day to be updated on her life. (And she loves Coach!) Also, her site is one of the few I can attain whilst at work. But seeing as how I appear to be the litmus test for what gets blocked, we'll see how long I have access.
Anyhoo, she just gave birth to what appears to be a nine month old baby and since NONE of my friends will have one, and I can't find a sucker of a man.. just kidding... go check out baby Noah. (A different one, Cluss.)
Gorgeous baby. Doesn't someone I actually live near and know and will let me hold and play with the baby want to have one? Kenney, you are too far away!

What an asset I was in high school.

Or perhaps I should say assette..?
I took a home ec class my junior year. We had to pay at the beginning of the semester for supplies. One week we baked cookies. Don't know what they tasted like because, as much of the rest of the stuff we baked, our cookies were donated to the faculty meeting. Every Friday, we had to write a review of what we had learned in class and how we liked it. My review one week involved something to the regards of "I had fun baking these cookies, but maybe would have enjoyed it more were I able to have taste them instead of having to give them up to the ungrateful faculty slime." Sure did go there. But I was mad. They never once said thank you. We were never asked if we would like to share our cookies (Stop thinking dirrty), we had to pay for the damn supplies that bought those cookies and we slaved over a hot oven for those cookies that never even got to pass our teenaged lips. Bastards. I think that class was 4th period. I was only in 5th period for about 23.5 seconds before I was yanked into our administrator Ms. Chandler's office. She was furious with me. Especially for the "ungrateful faculty slime" part. Maybe the slime part was going a bit too far. She made me call my mommy and tell her what I did. So I did. I told her everything, sparing no detail. Of course, I did this in German and I had an advisor's hackles going wayyyyy up. She snatched the phone from my hand and asked my mother to repeat what I said. Well, of course I told her the truth and she repeated it faithfully. Then she told Ms. Chandler to stop bothering her at work with such ridiculous issues and let me get back to a class that matters. So she had to let me go back to Chemistry which she had pulled me out of. I gave her a sweet smile as I left.
See what an asset I was?

(I still think I was right, though... Could have maybe handled it better, but damn! It's high school.)