There’s a song on the local country station (SHUTUP!) lately that’s really catchy and burnin’ up the charts etc. so I hear it a few times a day.

It’s called Redneck Woman by Gretchen Wilson. The premise of the song is that she is indeed proud to be a Redneck and talks about drinking beer, living in a trailer park, 4×4ing, leaving the Christmas lights on all year long, shopping at Wal-Mart and being perfectly OK with all of that.

But one line is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me:

“You might think I’m trashy, but I don’t give a lick, I’ll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip”

barefooted. barefooted. BAREFOOTED! What. The. Fuck.

I’m really hoping that it’s some sort of ironic dig at the whole redneck concept, but considering the stories I’ve heard about this woman (”Yah, I talked to George Strait’s answering machine one day because I was returning his call, but I don’t remember what I said cuz I was drunk”) I sadly suspect it’s not.

I’ve finally decided (now that I’m feeling decidedly more Human) to take the advice in the card my dear dearheart gave me on Movie Night: Wear some Really Cool Boots.

So, instead of my runners, or my docs, or my (flat) sandals - I am wearing boots. They’re kindof like this (only not really - I was just going for something that looked similar), and they’re not nearly as uncomfortable as I was fearing they’d be after all this time. My biggest annoyance with wearing cute shoes to work is the walk there and home. But really, it’s not all that difficult to walk in walking shoes and change once I get here.

So today I’m walking a little taller (not just because of the heel) and feeling a little cuter. Perhaps this week sometime I’ll get out and buy a couple more cute things that will go with the boots - and perhaps another pair or two of boots themselves. I’m trying to hold off on the extreme shopping until the New Year, since the plan is to be a couple sizes smaller by then - but it feels too good to be pretty to hold off much longer.

We’re having a bit of a Survivor pool at work for the latest series - Survivor Vanuatu.

The way it works: we each put in $12, and blindly pick a bag. Inside said bag is our survivor. Whoever ends up with the last survivor standing wins some $$ (I’m assuming).

I ended up with Twila. I’m soooo shafted. So far she sounds like a Sue clone. We all remember Sue, right? From Survivor Borneo, and Survivor All-Stars.

I just hope that Twyla doesn’t turn out to be as much of a bee-yatch and get all pissy and drop out of the game like Sue did last time.

There’s a hole in my heart today. I guess that’s what happens when you have time to slow down and think about things.

And as much as they deserve to be as far gone as they can right now, I wish my parents would hurry up and come home. I need my mom.

Until then… countdown ’till October 9th….

Update (12:52PM): It’s nearly impossible to remain miserable when “Just a Gigolo” comes on the radio.

Man, I feel like an utter shit for never really believing people when they claim to be totally debilitated by migraines.

My 2nd one ever knocked me completely on my ass for most of the day today. The throbbing, the feeling that my eyes were bleeding, the stabbing light sensitivity, the unrelenting nausea. It’s not fun. At all.

This must be some karma getting back at me for not fully respecting the force that is the migraine headache.

Q: Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?
(more…)

I forgot that, even when you’re sick and wearing sweats, when your nose is red and swolen from blowing it every 5 minutes, wearing some fabulous underwear can still make you feel hot.

That said, I still feel like ass on a stick. Hot ass, but ass none the less.

I watched Anything Else last night, since it was the latest thing to arrive from dvdflix.ca. The movie had been totally hyped as a Jason Biggs movie (think American Pie), and I really can’t stand Christina Ricci - so I didn’t have huge hopes for it.

Someone neglected to mention along the way, however, that it’s a Woody Allen film, so I was delightfully surprised at the quirkiness - that is, once I figured out what the hell was going on.

The whole premise of the title for the movie is that Jason Biggs’ character is really codependent, and is going through a life changing period. At the end of the movie, he condenses his story into one really profound sentence to a cab driver, and the driver responds “It’s like Anything Else” - meaning as traumatic as life seems, it’s really quite ordinary, and it just keeps going on.

I found that to be a powerful message at this point, considering I’m going through my own changes (though without the painful codependence thing) - and really, it reminded me that I have been here before, and will probably make it back again, and it is like anything else. A day is really just another day.

My question to you: do you find that message promising or defeatist? Discuss.

Now that my brain fog has cleared a little bit, I’ve been pondering a few questions:

What’s an appropriate time after ending a 4 year relationship to start dating?
Where on earth does one meet normal people to date?
How do you know you’ve passed “rebound” phase?
Is a having a rebound relationship necessary, or is time enough?

Ok readers, your turn. What’s your experience been with getting back into the dating world? Also, I’m pretty content being alone right now - I’m not looking to jump into anything at the moment. These questions are just part of moving on, and how to go about it.

Oh yah, and another thing…

Why on earth do I have to get sick now, when I have no boyfriend to whine to, and come over and make me tea and rub my feet, and grab me in inappropriate places so I can pretend it pisses me off but secretly love how he loves me so inappropriately.

And EVEN WORSE THAN THAT, my parents just left the country today for a month on their grand “Once In a Lifetime European Excursion” - so now I have no boyfriend AND no Mom to feel sorry for me. I even lost the dogsitting vote (he’s staying with other relatives, since apparently my “no pets” strata rules might stress him out or something) and have no warm furry beastie to cuddle up to at all.

You may all commence leaving the pity comments now.

Is it “Feed a Fever, Starve a Cold?” or does it go the other way around?

Regardless, I have a horrible cold, and I want some chicken soup. Since my soup option is limited to whatever they carry at Save-On (it’s on my way home, and I’m not about to start cooking), what’s your favourite brand? What do you recommend?

Oh yah, and that freight train from yesterday - it’s backing up all right. Backing up in the form of yellow goo that threatens to dribble down my upper lip if I don’t snork every minute or so.

I think my cube-mate wants me to go home.

Could someone please inform the freight train that drove up my nose last night and parked in my sinuses that it should back the fuck up!

Thank you.

Oy.

*sniff*

As the days go by, and I search my closet for “something to wear” it becomes painfully obvious that as time has gone by, my ability to look like a girl has flown right out the window. I’m still good with the makeup and hair, but the girlie clothes seem to have gone by the wayside.

I own more sensible shoes than heels. When did that happen? I think I have two skirts left that I’ll wear out of the house. Most of my shirts are all very plain.

I think a shopping trip is in order. Anyone have any favourite places that aren’t too expensive, and have feminine clothes that aren’t too trashy or trendy? Also, don’t say Jacob. They’ve ceased to carry sizes larger than 9, and that train pulled out of my station a loooooooong time ago.

This whole suddenly single thing seems to have livened me up a little bit. I had gotten very complacent, and sedentary, and anal about being absolutely prepared for anything and everything. My life was planned, down to the last detail, two weeks in advance.

Which makes it very surprising that when I was invited to go along with a good friend to Vancouver Island at the last minute, I actually went. And I had FUN! The Island has a certain vibe that draws me. I may actually want to live there some day. There’s something about sitting in a hot tub and contemplating life with people you just met while staring at millions of stars that the city lights usually obscure in my world….. It was just good to feel like there is more to life. That I can still dare to dream. That whad I had isn’t all there is.

There’s also something to be said for hurling yourself along a precarious path through the woods, in totally inadequate footwear (there’s that whole “prepared” thing that would’ve stopped me before) and rockin’ out on the car ride back with people who seemed to be just happy to have my company.

No pressure, no plans, no expectations, and also a feeling of being right where I was supposed to be.

Life is good.

Oh My. I better watch out for girls’ night, or I’m going to be a gazillion pounds, and never, ever attract anyone of the opposite sex. I will be 52 and surrounded by almost as many cats, and lots of two bite brownies.

But - fun was had, food was consumed, movie was watched, stories were shared.

And I remembered that I have some really, phenomenally good friends. Thank you