dreary day.

Dreary days remind me of Ohio. They remind of the days that turned into weeks of gray skies and little hope for the sun to peek through. Those gray skies didn't indicate the shift from fall to winter. It would start snowing. The snow was beautiful though. It clung to the limbs of bare trees, stacking up as though it was afraid to fall all the way to the ground. I loved the snow. A white sheet rolled over the terrain. Then after a couple of days of people walking and driving on the snow, it is dirty and slushy. I don't miss the after-snowfall.

Dreary days make me pensive. Today, I reflect upon the past. Past relationships. Past friendships. Longing to re-live the best moments of them. Past experiences. Past interactions. Moments were I thought that it might just be one of the best moments of my life. Those times when I laughed so hard that I cried. Those times when the laughter of friends fills the room. I remember times when we would play games in college. Silly games. Drinking games. Games that required more wit than we could muster. I remember laughing each other's stories. Sometimes embarassing. Sometimes drunken mishaps. Other times it'd be those stupid things that we'd said in class thinking that we knew it all. Especially after waking up late and trying to compensate for our tardiness with our intelligence.

I miss some of those conversations. I miss walking into a room and knowing everyone and them knowing you. I don't miss all of those same people knowing who you made out with last weekend... some campuses were too small. But it's the people that you remember. It's the people that you think about when everyone has moved on and continued their lives. I wish I were closer in proximity to some of those people. It'd be great to be able to hug some of their necks. To hang out and crack jokes. To just have all of those friends nearby again. It'd be interesting to relive some of those relationships and to make different decisions in them. Where would we end up then? We would know who to be mean to because we knew that in the end, they just broke your heart. You would know who to try harder with because those are the relationships that you still think about fondly and wonder what could have been. There are those friendships that have fizzled over the years--whether you were separated by water or miles or differences.

it's that day again.

It's Monday again. Mondays are horrible. They are the longest day of the week. Mondays are the hardest days to get out of bed after a long weekend of relaxation and no painful alarms going off to wake you up. Mondays merely mark the beginning of another week in the monotonous job. Mondays remind you that there were so mny other things that you could have or should have been doing this weekend other than sleeping in and laying back. I have to say, I'm not the hugest fan of Mondays.

And such.

I just got to thinking that it is quite interesting when you start to recognize and analyze the things that erk you about other people. Those little things that they do that just get under your skin. Those times that they know exactly which button to push and they mash it in.

There are those people who do annoying things but are forgiveable. For example, someone who blinks more often than one usually blinks. It's not so much annoying as it is bothersome and distracting. But you can justify that it's not their fault. They blink too often and they probably always have. Yes, it's not the most calming thing but you can avoid the interaction and just deal when necessary.

Then there are those people who say things. They have phrases or words that they use on a consistent basis. Or they say things in a certain way, with a certain tone. And it makes you want to choke them. For example, little sisters or brothers that are in that "like" stage. They like always like use the word like because it's like so cool to say instead of like any other noun/verb/adverb like. That it's purely annoying. There are alos those people who exaggerate constantly. Everything is more extreme than it actually is. "Oh, my god! There were 400 thousand million people at the park today!" Right, 400 thousand million. Moron. And that's just an example of a simple non-important one.

Then, there's the more serious, more problematic ones... "You are always looking at other girl's asses! You never pay that much attention to me. Never ever! You're always so mean!" [Bawling. Exit stage right.] Now, that is definitely a pet peeve. There are few times that superlatives are needed, if at all. Some people are so dramatic. But I must say, yes, I do the same thing. I use superlatives, but I do not use them on a consistent, annoying, exaggerating, silly basis. I agree that superlatives should exist because they aid writers in painting a picture in dramatizing the story drawing in the audience with exaggerated storytelling. It's an effective method in writing, acting, etc--but not so great in everyday, non-dramatic conversations.

And another....when someone thinks that a "conversation" involves watching tv and not listening to what another person is saying and, most of all, not responding or contributing to the "conversation." I would rather someone just tell you to shut the hell up. When only one person is talking, that is called a monologue or a speech. There is NO conversation. Some people cannot comprehend this fact. It is amazing to me.

Maybe I am hypersensitive to peoples' behavior.... but I find it hard to believe that others would not have pet peeves, as such. We tend not to acknowledge them. Or we try to suppress them under the guise of accepting people as they are. Some how, there has to be a common ground. We should be sensitive to each others' pet peeves.

Ha. Like that's ever going to happen.

My readership.

I think that the individuals that comprise my readership are quite interesting. Every once and a while, they leave comments. As of late, there's been a lull in comments but still, I know that people read my blog.

It's just such an interesting array of people... friends, family, exes, aquaintances and random people who somehow stumble onto my site. I regret telling some of those people that I even had a blog. But this is who I am and these are my thoughts, etc and I make no apologies for them. I 'm glad that some people have access to the site because it's a way for them to keep up with the changes in my life. This blog serves as a journal and a venting spot.... which I, perhaps, should retire that part. I write for many reasons. Most of the time, I don't write to my readership. I write about life. I write stories. I write about thoughts that I have. I write to get my frustrations out. I write to examine what I really think and feel. Because, after all, my writing can be honest. Even if I am not honest with myself or others, I can write freely. It's as though no one is reading my blog. I can write unapoligetically. There's no confrontation. There's no argument. It's just pure fact. Pure thoughts. Unabated. Innocent of any wrongdoing.

It is interesting to me the people that read my blog. Some act like they don't care anything about my life. And yet, they read my blog. If they didn't care, why read it? Some use my blog or the information therein, to start conversations. Some never mention it, thinking that they have the upper hand because they know more about what's going on in my life than I would tell them to their face.

But I must thank you all for reading. Thank you to those who care about me but remain silent. Thank you to those who take actual interest in my life. Thank you to those who comment and encourage. Thank you to those who read my blog and think I don't know.

Read on, readers. Read on.

Clouds

I didn't think that I would actually say this and mean it.... but I love clouds. Typically, I yearn for the sunny days with the sun beating down on you as you walk along the beach. Now, since I have moved cubicles (aka prison cells) I've come to appreciate the cloudy days.

I used to have a window seat on the south side of the building. I have moved to the west side of the building. The mornings are nice --if not a little chilly. But the afternoons can be unbearable. Supposedly, these windows are tinted but I swear that somehow the sun just penetrates the lousy filter and beats down on me. There was one day that I felt like I got a taste of menopause. I was so hot all of a sudden that I began to freak out a bit. I felt like I'd never be cool again. Like the heat was choking the zest for life out of me.

Today is a mostly cloudy day. As the afternoon creeps in, I am thankful that today will not be an intolerably hot day.

Morning time.

Morning time is the most painful part of the day for me. It takes a while to really get me motivated and in work mode. Typically, I spent nearly 50% of the morning fighting my exhaustion and very slowly getting work done. Around 11am or so, things start clicking. I'm not as tired. Or atleast I don't feel like I could pass out just as quickly sitting in my chair as I could laying on hot coals. It's quite amazing how tired I feel. Granted, it's all my fault. I'm the one who stays up until midnight or one or even later. Then I go to bed and sometimes the dogs wake me up during the night, disturbing my sleep. I just do not feel rested. Maybe I will go to bed early tonight so that I feel refreshed for tomorrow.... we'll see if that actually happens.

Somehow though, in my exhaustion, I'm still quite pensive. I think about life. I think about my life and what I could be doing with it. I think about my family and how I miss them. I have those fleeting moments that I think about moving back to that small town just to be near my family. It's a completely different world from this city. I like the city but it would be nice to be near my family and watch my siblings grow up. It's interesting how we are all expected to leave the nest after 18 years old or so, yet there's so much that we are missing. We are missing the changes in other family members lives. Still, leaving the nest doesn't have to consist of living hundreds of miles away. And once again, that was my decision.

What I don't understand though are those people who can just settle. The people who just settle for what they have. What's even worse are those people who keep telling themselves that one day they will get up off their ass and go somewhere and do something new. I know plenty of people in my hometown who have stayed there. They have stayed to help provide for their families. They have stayed because they are in their comfort zone and wouldn't know what to do if they topple out of it. Unlike, those that think they know what they would do if they toppled out of their comfort zone. But really, it's all speculation because it's not actually something that they have even tried. I need the adventure though. I need the variety. And what erks me the most are those haters--those people who tell you that you cannot have that. That life is not always full of excitement and change. And I agree. Life itself is not full of excitement. You have to create it. You have to perpetuate it. You have move above and beyond your comfort zone.

I guess, I just don't get it. I don't understand why someone would voluntarily settle for where they are instead of rocking the boat alittle and checking out what there is out there. Life is short. Shouldn't we try to cram all that we can in there?

the thorn.

She is like a thorn in my side. She's not just a person, she's an affliction. A puss-filled infected suture that just oozes. Dripping puss and nastiness.

When I see her, I think of blonde, herpes-infested hookers. I just wonder what the intrigue was and why he's so unwilling to relinquish that relationship.

When I see her, I puke a little bit in my mouth. Mostly because of her hairy upper lip and general bimbo-ish characteristics. But he still cherishes her like his Saturday football tickets. Something that's invaluable and inseparatable from his body.

If I had my way, she'd go back to her country or just fall off the face of the earth. She gets under my skin and makes me want to cut her out like the thorn that she is.


Apparently, this is how it's going to be. And I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.

Ding dong....

Ding dong. The witch is dead. La La La. The witch is dead.

Okay, she's not dead. She's just away. Out of my apartment. And for that, I am glad. I still woke up sneezing this morning but I will to do a super cleaning and hope to get all of the dander out of the place. Still, I did not watch up this morning to a whining dog. That was awesome. I got paid for dogsitting. For that, I am also grateful.

I am back to being a two dog gal and I am very happy about that. Three is too many. And to respond to my mother's comments, "I hope your learned your lesson." I did, Mom. I did.

26 hours or so....

....until she gets picked up by her loving family who are probably more tolerant than I. Actually, I would have that dog trained. She would sit. She would not pee on my floors. She would poop outside. She wouldn't jump on the bed when I told her not to. She would get off the bed when I told her to. She would have poodle hair so I don't sneeze. Ugh.

One more day. One more day.

I also need to get Timmy adopted. The longer I have him the more I like him. And I don't want to like him cause then I'll cry when he leaves. Timmy cuddles up against me to sleep. He's a sweet dog. Although, sometimes he can be quite mean. Especially to the cockapoo. The only bad thing is when they fight, I really think that one of them is going to be seriously injured. Nora and Timmy have it all worked out. They play together hours at a time. Only playful growling and barking. They have it all worked out though. If Timmy gets tired of playing, he growls his non-playful growl and Nora leaves him alone. They have it worked out. But the cockapoo is stubborn or stupid... I'm leaning towards stupid. She still goes up and tries to play with Timmy even though he growls at her. It will be more peaceful when I just have my foster dog and Nora to deal with.

56 hours and counting.

I calculated that it's about 56 hours or so until the idiot dog goes home. Granted, I've never been very good at math so it may not be 56 hours. I just hope that it's less and not more.

Last night was the best night so far. Apparently, I did a great job of tiring out the dogs this weekend. They slept all night last night... or at least, they didn't wake me up except for once. At about 2:30am I woke up to Nora barking ever so quietly. Timmy wakes up and starts to bark. I try to grab them both and calm them down because the last thing I need is for them to get the other dog all riled up. Finally, I realize that they hear her moving around in her crate and that's why they are barking. I close the bedroom door to block out the crate noises and we all go back to sleep. I wasn't awaken again until the alarm went off this morning. Even then, I didn't get up. But Nora knew that I was supposed to get up and get moving. She licked my face so that I would get out of bed. I could still use about 3 more hours of sleep.

I think I am going to do a massive cleaning today. The plan is that I take a benadryl before I start cleaning so that my allergies don't kill me in the process. Then, I try to get as much done as possible before the benadryl knocks me out. I just took a benadryl this morning because of the nasty doggieness and dander floating around my apartment. And now, I'm tired. Sleepy rather. I think I could pass out and sleep for those 4 hours that it takes for the meds to get out of my system. When's nap time?

This past weekend, I watched 1 and a half football games. That's probably more than I've watched in one weekend since football season began. I only watched a half of one game because I was at the bar to drink. Not at the bar to watch football. Yippee, the ref was making strange motions. Something about a small waist or power to the people. I was much more involved in football season last year. I know that really, I could care less but I think a part of my dislike for it has to do with my relationship. If it was a relaxing thing, then I might enjoy football. But it's not relaxing to hang out with someone who is going to throw his phone across the room, pouting like a 4 year old, when his team loses. It's a damn game. Some win. Some lose. It just gets on my last nerve sometimes. It's not like someone died. It's not like it's a life changing situation. It's on tv (or in the stadium since he has season tickets to both of his teams). It's not affecting one's life personally. I mean, yeah, it made not look so great for the team that lost but it's not like there's not going to be another game next week. More men slapping each other on the ass. More cupping the balls of the guy in front of you. More slamming into others. More fatties throwing their weight around. More injuries. More stupid men in the making because of all the concussions they have suffered and will suffer. It's a game. Not something to pout and cry about.

And yes, maybe I just don't get it. Maybe I just don't have the same value for the game. But I just think that there are things in life that are so much more important. So much more relevant than football. Alas, this reasoning creates a rift between myself and people who are emotionally committed to the game. It's hard to be ok with it when you come second to a game. Still, I have dogs. He can have his fun. He can cry about his team losing. He can throw whatever the hell he wants to throw across the room. But I will continue to wake up to a beautiful day every morning with my puppy licking my face. She is the light of my day.

the damn dog.

I am so, so, so, so ready for this damn cockapoo dog to go home. Sophie has changed my life in a way that I do not particularly enjoy. My apartment never smelled like dog before and now, I walk in through the backdoor and I am immediately assaulted by that nasty dog smell because this dog sheds and reeks like dog. Nasty dog. Stupid dog. If stupid, idiot dog had a smell, she would fit the profile.

And here, I must clarify. I don't hate this dog. I just have no "like" feelings towards her. Not only is she stupid but I am also allergic to her. She does not have poodle hair, she has cocker spaniel fur, which I am allergic to. And for some reason, I did not think to ask about that beforehand. So now, not only do I sneeze because of her, I also don't get any sleep because of her. She whines more than any other dog I've known. Last night, I decided that I couldn't deal with her whining so I left her out of her crate. And that bitch, excuse my french, chewed the corner off my couch. The wood, that I never knew was there before, is now exposed. From now until Wednesday, I am just going to have to compromise my sleep for my sanity. Quite frankly, it pissed me off that she chewed my couch. I never had to deal with that with Nora. Nora was never big enough to get her mouth around the corner of the couch or anything else of significance. The only thing that would have been worse would be if this stupid dog chewed some of my shoes. I might just have to sacrifice her to the shoe gods. She might deserve being the sacrifical dog. Dogs should not chew shoes. Dogs that chew shoes should never, ever be bred. They will just produce more dogs that chew shoes and that, is unacceptable.

Sophie, the stupid, idiot four month old cockapoo, has been a royal pain in my ass. The only unfortunate thing is that I did not get a fixed payment for my pain. But I hope that my complaints, including the fact that she makes me sneeze and that I didn't get any sleep and the fact that she chewed and pissed and shat all over my apartment,will help me get more than 50 bucks. I've taken 50 bucks of allergy meds. I've used 50 bucks worth of paper towels and energy picking up her shit and piss. If she was a person, a man, I'd kick her ass right about now.

I need to say though that I am not going to hurt her or abuse her in anyway. I love dogs. It's just frustrating to have two mostly trained dogs (Nora, my sweet pup and Timmy, my foster dog) and then having to deal with an idiot dog that cannot control her bodily functions. I don't know if she's just never was trained or if she's just stupid. I think she's stupid just because. But I also think she's not near as trained as my Nora was at her age. I was very aware of Nora's behavior. She naturally had a great disposition but I taught her to be obedient. I taught her some tricks and may sure that she behaved well. Nora is just a smart dog.

I have concluded after this hellacious week, that I am a two dog maximum person. I can deal with two dogs but three is just too damn many. Especially when one of them is almost as smart as a hockey player that's been hit in the head one too many times.

Two dogs. Only dogs that have hair not fur. Only dogs that sleep at night not whine.

Wednesday cannot come soon enough. I might have to take off Thursday to celebrate her departure.