Hit By Bus

My body hurts right now. It started on Tuesday night, around midnight. I woke up and I couldn't breathe anymore. I groggily attributed it to not taking any allergy meds that day, so I grabbed the benedryl next the bed and took one. Morning comes, still can't breathe and my tonsils are swollen (again). I take some Walmart brand Claritin, doesn't help. I take some Sudafed. Helps a little. After lunch, I realize my back feels like I slept on a brick wall, my neck is sore.

I'm pretty sure these are the symptoms of that Meningococcal virus.*EDIT* Although, after googling it, I am sure I do not. Whew!

I'm sure it doesn't help that the bar was actually busy last night, so I did not get to leave early (at 11) like I was hoping. I made fifty bucks though. So not all is lost. Only my health, and I'll sleep when I'm dead.

I'm actually concerned about what to do for my poor, infected tonsils. This makes at least the seventh illness in one years time. Last March, I can back from Ohio with a terrible cold that seems to be recurring. It's not tonsillitis, but it's something related to them. I've been on anti-biotics three times, and sick without meds at least that many times. I went to an ear, nose, and throat Dr. this past summer, and he told me unless I had 6 or more infections, they don't like to removed the tonsils. I'm tired of this though. I don't like getting these wimpy colds every few months. I hate taking meds. I don't want to have surgery, but I'm about to lose my health care for a bit and if I'm going to do surgery, I should do it while I have great coverage and sick leave.

Although, we'd have to get my laid back, reluctant to prescribe meds, let it run its course Dr. to agree to something serious like surgery and pain meds!

PS. It's freaking SNOWING!

She Hung Up On Me

I will give you the scenario and you have to guess who hung up on me. It's way easy.

Her: Um, what the fuck is this "I heart liberals" crap?

CLICK.

I'm sorry? It's not that I don't heart Republicans. I'm a closet Democrat (fuck, there I go outing myself...again...sorry mom.)and I will most likely end up voting for a Democrat in the next election. Unless it's Hilary, as I am done with both the Bush family and the Clinton family. This is not a type of monarchy! I suppose I'm more of a moderate than anything else. I can't pick red or blue. I hate that our country is so torn down the middle on what side you are on. Because none of the issues we fight about are ever so black and white. And if the issues aren't black and white, how can I pick a side? I don't ever want to have an abortion, but I can't say that someone else shouldn't. I certainly can't agree with homosexuality being wrong. The social issues have us fighting against each other, and no one really thinks or talks about the rest of the spectrum. Can we lay off the gays and the abortions and focus on the war, the economy, and our rights, our environment? We're supposed to be the best, what if we fall apart?

It's a scary place to live right now, if you really stop to think about it. I think I'd like to take up farming. So I have a food supply when the world shuts down.

Tuesday Again

I've noticed that I've been posting regularly on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I think this has something to do with working later on these nights. Apparently, I can't post if someone is around.

I changed my work schedule around so I can go to spin class on Mondays and Wednesdays. So far I've gone to three classes and I'm doing pretty good. It's not easy though. I don't keep up with the instructor when he/she goes to resistance level five, but I will soon. I've also started lifting afterwards with L, so it's turning into a full on workout. I even did sit ups. And gosh, I hate those. But thanks to Abs of Steel, I have a pretty good variety of them. I'm just really glad that no one at the gym wears tights with thong leotards like the women on the Abs of Steel VHS.

I got a text message today from someone and he called me Cutie. To me, there are only certain people who can get away with the pet names so soon in the game. These are people who call everyone by pet names, mostly because they can't remember your name. BB was one of those people. I could probably add up all the times he said my name on two hands. And it works okay for him. This particular guy? Not so much. Plus, do you really want to call the woman you like a word that's much more applicable for 5 year olds?

Boyproof*. Or Effectively Outing Myself.

I don't know who reads this blog. I think at one point I put the link to it on my AIM profile. So there is a chance that there are people out there reading it and I have no idea. Maybe my teenage cousin, or someone from OWU, or a random kid from HS (doubtful). Some of my close friends don't even read this. My mother does. Maybe work people do too.

So maybe some of you will be shocked. I don't care. I've dealt with so many rumors and stories about this already that it's old news to me.

I'm dating a girl.

I suppose I could keep this all under wraps and never mention it. I could hide it all. But I can't see why I should. Chances are it's not going to be the last time I date a girl. And maybe it will turn into a real relationship and be a huge part of my life and who I am. I don't know yet. But I'm not going to hide it. And maybe I'm lucky because I have a huge group of people who are either super supportive or they just don't see a problem with it.

I met L months ago. Back in the fall, when I first ventured out on a Friday night when I couldn't get a hold of BB. This was back when I didn't know a lot of people at the bar, I had just started working. L was out with a girl I did happen to know a little bit. (Actually, our friend in common used to date BB and she told me a few things about him that night. Hindsight, such a fucking bitch.) L and I and our friend went out to her car to take shots of jager. L said that she was a lesbian, and she might try to make out with me since I'm cute and I shouldn't let her. She didn't try, and I left with BB a little bit later.

A few months ago, I saw her at Ross in Pueblo. I didn't say anything to her and I don't think she even saw me. Since then I've seen her at the bar and we've talked in passing. I hardly know her.

So it bugs me that I cannot remember how it happened. What I said that lead her to say "Can we go somewhere else? Can we go upstairs?" I have never been so bold or interested with a guy I met at Manhattans. Not even BB. He and I never went upstairs. I've never given my phone number to a guy while there. Some girls I've befriended, yes. Of all the men I could have in that place, I go upstairs with a girl. And give her my phone number.

I'm not one of those girls to get drunk and make out with girls to turn on the men around me. That's not why I did it. And for a few days after it happened, I had no idea that it would turn into this. It sort of seemed like a drunken encounter. But it's way bigger than that now.

*Boyproof is actually a YA novel about a girl who isn't interested in any boys until one special ones comes along and convinces her otherwise. I thought the title would be better for a girl/girl story.

Officially

Hello darlings.

I had a day off yesterday. It was lovely. I woke up at L's house and we ran around town in the morning. I suppose I meant to get my car fixed, but I had neglected to call about that before Monday morning so I'll have to do it some other time. I got to Denver in time for lunch (Drunken Noodles and Thai Ice Tea), did a little shopping (Red Currant candle smells so amazing),got gelato, and watched a movie (Happy Endings). I love lazy, plan-less days like this. Like Stina said on Friday, her plan was just to "get wasted" because who needs plans.

We did not get wasted on on Friday. That's what a trip to Flo-town mid-evening does to you. It makes it impossible to get drunk. You just get tired. Then you go to Denny's and share a plate of French fries while wishing you were at home in bed.

Dana straighten my hair on Friday night, and no one recognized me at the bar. It's kind of annoying. I love my curls. They are me and they are my signature. So it's unnerving when people tell me how sexy I look with straight hair. Or how much more they like it. It's insulting to how I look everyday. It's a fun change, sure. But I hardly wear make up on non-bar nights. I'm not going to take 40 minutes a day to flat iron my hair straight. I'm not giving up my mornings to make myself look sexier. I'm not sexy, I'm cute. I know I'm pretty, but I want to be pretty because I look like myself. I don't want to be an illusion. I don't want to be one of those girls who wakes up in the morning and needs to put make up on before she can walk out the door, or complains how she looks like shit at breakfast. Make up doesn't really make you look prettier. It just covers the little flaws that the people who care about you don't care about anyways. And that's why I'm offended that people told me I look "hotter" with straight hair. Thank goodness I chose to go with someone who knows me with curly hair and no eye liner.

Bark, Bark

Last night, after I got home from working at the bar, I took the last Benadryl in the house that my mom left out for me. I've been suffering through constant draining of my head, sore throat, and coughing due to some nasty ass allergies that are resistant to Claritin. It's actually so bad that I've had a terrible time sleeping, thus the need for Benadryl. And I slept SO WELL. I didn't even wake up till my alarm went off. I love mornings like that.

Mornings I do not love are ones where I have to go find my large Lab o'Lovin and punish his chubby belly. We've been having huge problems keeping Hunty in the yard. At this point, I'm not sure how he's getting out. We've put up taller fencing on two sides, some electric fencing around the bottom of one side, and the other side has two layers of fence. He's still getting out. I think he may be jumping the back fence and getting to the field for freedom now. This morning when I got up, I let Emma in but there was no Hunter in the yard. I shouted for him, in my nice scratchy, almost non-existent voice. I see no brown blur coming to me. I hear barking. So I brush my teeth, put in my contacts, put on shorts and a tee shirt. I can tell it's Hunter barking, and he's in someones barn or garage. As I walk down the street, the barking gets louder as I come to the barn. Our neighbors have a bloodhound, not a mean one, but not a very nice one either. I'm not looking forward to having to step on to her territory to retrieve my dog. I'm also worried that he's gotten himself trapped somehow and possibly gnawing off his legs in between barks. I approach the door to the shed, and see Hunter's back end. I said, "Hunter. Come." and he turns around and runs to me like I may have just saved his life. Right in front of him is Peaches, the blood hound, and she clearly was not going to let him past her. So I saved him from a possible beating from Peaches. However, he still got punished and is now tied up to the back porch. I'm not letting my baby get killed because he's too stupid to look for cars. And I'd really like the binge eating to stop. It's not an attractive look. I like my Labs to look more like dogs and less like barrels.

And Then I Bought A Plane Ticket

So. I bought a ticket to Ohio. For June. Two Weeks. AWESOME.

Oh, you're leaving your job and moving to Denver before that?

WHO CARES!

I love me some Ohio. In my defense, I was going to go to Ohio in June anyways for a friend's wedding that I feel I simply have to witness. And why not make it two weeks? That way I can see everyone and it's not a rushed thing.

And, you know what. If Denver doesn't work out before that, I may just move myself there in June.

Denver is still up in the air. I haven't heard from my roommates in a while, and they haven't heard from the Dr. telling them if the brother has cancer again. Back in February, when I talked to Liz, it all seemed like it was falling into place. I had broken up with BB, and moving to Denver was finally working out for me. And now...it's not.

And I don't mind postponing again. But what if I'm postponing something that just isn't going to happen EVER. When I could be making plans for something else. I'm sort of lost, to be quite honest. I don't know what I am supposed to be doing. In my eyes, or in God's eyes. And sometimes I feel like I dug myself in to a black hole with my faith and I need to get back up there to fix it all, but how?

I sent a friend who used to live in Denver an email today asking if his old roommate still needed a roommate. Because I reached a straw today at work, and I think it's the final one.

Hello Poohbear!

Hi guys! I mean, DD! Hi! I know you've been busy with law, Dunc, and other things you do on your own time, but I'm sure you've checked my page and you're probably sick of my Open Letter. Hmm, me too.

Anyways. I have been out drinking a lot. I do that a lot now. It may be why I'm beginning to notice that my stomach is looking different these days and I'm not sure I like it. So I took up running to combat the effects of all the shots I'm taking. Last night I took five, but I ran almost a mile and I also walked for two. See, I am battling the bulge.

I went to a concert last night with the DPH, and it was pretty kick-ass. We had a table right up front with space to dance. And dance we did, in between the shot taking and the picture taking. Apparently, I am a fish. Evidence lies not only in my ability to drink 1 beer, 2 mixed drinks, 2 jager bombs, 2 red headed sluts, and 1 raspberry lemon drop but also in the many pics of my fish face. Unfortunately, I also met some guy. Usually I meet lots of guys and do a pretty good job of treating them like I am not interested. Because I am not. I am not interested. But sometimes, after a few drinks, I forget that I am not interested and some persistent idiot snatches me up. They then proceed to compel me into dancing with them, or taking shots, or having general conversation. All these things that I am capable of avoiding when sober. Sadly, last night I was not sober and found myself with a boyfriend. A kiss you on the cheek when he leaves the room boyfriend. Now, I had me one of those not long ago. And I liked him. But I do not like it when a boy whose name I could not remember, who also has a fucking lhasa apso with a little bed in his bedroom, and a pom pom ski hat on, kisses my cheek. It may have helped his case had he not been a terrible kisser, but sadly the little dog may be my one and only deal breaker that I will follow through on even if the boy is charming, cute, well dressed, melt in your mouth yummy. If my dog is bigger than yours, I'm going to say goodnight now. (Which leaves out everyone except the Great Dane dog owners, and that's exactly the kind of dog I want next so call me!)

Speaking of dogs, Hunter made me laugh out loud for a good five minutes last night. He's been getting out of the yard, so we put up a nice electric fence to keep him in. When I got home last night (at 4:45) I let Hunter out so I could sleep in peace. I got all comfy in bed, closed my eyes, and hear "eipp eipp ow eippp...scramble on porch...WOOF." Ya'll, Hunter got SHOCKED. And serves him right. I told him not to touch it.