Well done, D! Good form!
*applause*

So, last evening D and I had plans for dinner and what-not. Translated: Dinner at 5 PM, then ... wherever the evening led us. Apparently, SOMEONE listens to my incessant blathering ... because he showed up with these.



Yup, those are indeed a vase full of the biggest stargazer lilies I've EVER seen. If you were paying attention to this long-ass post, you'd know that my two favorite flowers are stargazers and cream colored roses (specifically, the elusive Delta Gamma rose).

Anyhow, we had a tasty dinner at Fujiyama, and then came back here to watch the 3 OT travesty that was the Michigan / Michigan State game. And ... stuff. Come on, you expect a girl to kiss and tell THAT much? Besides ... I kinda like this one. OK, that's a lie. I really like him. And I'm not going to sully his stellar reputation with sordid tales of our antics. Whoops ... did I say too much?

Moving on ...

Today, was the all-important Redskins / Packers game ... moseyed to B-Dub's to consume some brew and wings with G and the crew. I spent a good part of the afternoon mocking the Republican Bunch for their impending doom. GO PACK! Ordinarily, I don't care much for professional football (I'll watch it, but I don't follow it like college ball) ... but today was a special day. Democrats of the world, rejoice!

Off to do a little studying for my CCSA exam. Test day is November 18th, and I really need to cram hard for it. It looks about 75% that I will be earning a promotion soon, and having that certification would make it about a 95% chance. So ... no pressure ... but this one is a "must win" situation for Martini.

Till tomorrow ...

It's Saturday Morning
And this ain't the place for me
I'm giving you warning, baby
We got a whole big, fat, world to see

Today's Title Song: Saturday Morning by Eels

Big fun time had by all this morning. Princess decided that 7 AM is an appropriate time to get up on a Saturday morning ... so consequently I turned on the Today show and snuggled up next to her in bed until I could actually get my eyes open at about 7:45. We called R to get his lazy ass out of bed, and made plans to have a little First Watch. I'd forgotten how tasty the Bacado omelette was!

All went well until Princess let fly with "where's Jen?" (R's girlfriend). At that point, I ended the breakfast, as I wasn't in the mood to deal with it anymore. I'll spare you all the bitch session, but will just leave it with this: I'm just not ready to be replaced. I know you all will pat me on the head and say "you're her mother, you'll never be replaced", but the reality of it is that there is another woman in the house where I used to live. Come on, she's TWO YEARS OLD. She equates her house + her daddy + a woman ... well, by process of elimination that's mommy. At least I haven't heard her call her that yet, because I'll really lose my shit then. End of rant.

OK. On to brighter things. LINKY GOODNESS!

CHECK THIS OUT ... the "Give Bush A Brain" game ... it's funny as shit. Thanks DolliQ for the fun link.

New Eminem Video - very interesting, and very anti-Shrub - click here to see it (broadband strongly suggested)

I'm soliciting generous charitable donations for THIS. And THIS. Oh yeah, THIS too. But especially THIS.

Randumb.
Not to be confused with Duhhh-bya.

1. I've noticed that I make a lot of numbered lists. "To Do's" if you will. Is this a compulsion of mine, or is it just an odd character flaw?

2. Quite possibly the weirdest thing that Princess received at Tricky-Treat last night: five pennies, stacked, tightly wrapped in aluminum foil, and glued shut with a hot-glue gun. When shown to Jason (a coworker) this morning he mentioned that people used to do that in his hometown. And then he said: "You know what that shit got ya in MY hood? Dented aluminum siding." heh heh. Speaking of Tricky-Treat ... if you want to see pictures of Princess and her partner in crime (Girlfriend's daughter), just drop me a line.

4. My stomach hurts. Why, you ask? Because I have an unnatural affection for Reese's cups and Milky Way Dark bars. I love dark chocolate. The best I've ever had was this stuff I bought when I was in Aruba (a Dutch possession). It was literally BLACK it was so dark. OHHHH and bittersweet ... mmmm. It was so fabulously rich that I could only eat a bite at a time, the package of it lasted me a full week.

5. I want some Tang. Murphy was eating Coffee-Mate by the spoonful yesterday, and it made me think about how I like to eat Tang powder right out of the jar. Other recent culinary obsessions include: Ramen noodles. As discussed with D, those must be some fabulously made noodles. 6 packs for 66 cents? I shudder to think of how they are actually made. Ahh hell, they're tasty. I prefer the pork flavor, but have recently been smitten with the creamy chicken flavor. OK really ... they taste pretty much the same. The wrappers are just different colors.

6. Weekend plans: Have Princess tonight, as R has tix to hear Duhhh-bya and Ahhh-nuld speak at Nationwide Arena. Trying to find someone to go with to the Edwards rally on Saturday AM. Then Saturday evening, have plans with D ... yay! Then Sunday, mass at 11 and then meeting G (whom I've decided is FAR better as a friend than a boyfriend) and the rest of the crew for a little football and beer at Bee-Dub's at 1-ish.

And Lucky Number Seven: Check out "Midwest Farmer's Daughter" (linked in the sidebar over yonder). K is an email pal from WAY back that found me by way of Lunasea. Check her out, send her some love.

POST SCRIPT: Fucking Blogger. Why can't I post via email anymore?

Politics And Corporate Stupidity.
Oh yeah ... baseball and halloween candy, too.

1. Elizabeth Edwards is speaking here in Cow-Town on Saturday morning. I might have to go. Wonder if she'd find humor in my "I *heart* John Edwards" t-shirt ... do you think I could get a pic with her? That would rock my world. As discussed with R late last night, I really admire her. And not just because she's bedding the hottest man alive, either.

2. We're having a fire drill this morning. TheFirm announced it on Monday, and has sent reminders every day (twice yesterday) since. Umm, isn't the point of a fire drill to actually be a SURPRISE and to mimic the actual possibility of a fire? They have also gotten savvy by scheduling it at 10 AM, because they were doing them at 3 ... and people were just getting in their cars and leaving for the day. (curses. foiled again.)

And of course .... there is no number three.

4. Fucking Red Sox. As told to The Others this morning, "Although I'm a hardcore Yankees gal ... I'm so glad the Sox won. Now I can revel in my new-found joy when all the players bail out to other teams next year, and they suck again. Yay for free agency!"

5. Yummy. Halloween candy. I have just discovered the joy that is Butterfinger Crunch bars.

6. BLOGGER IS RETARDED. (Oh my God, don't say retarded!) If this shows up twice, I'm going to be really pissed off. Ahh well, I suppose it's better to be pissed off than pissed on.

Two Drink Minimum.

And now, courtesy of MAV, is the funniest thing I've heard in days.

Please remember that November 2, 2004 has been designated National Celibacy Day:

No Bush, no Dick.

*rimshot*

Thank you, thank you. Be sure to tip your waitress.

My Life's Soundtrack.

In the liner notes of Mix 2 (which I'm actually conscious enough to read this morning), Josh Schwartz mentions that "... you can't plan your life's soundtrack. It's just one of those accidental miracles that occurs - you're having a moment, and a perfect song accompanies it, and suddenly your brain is seared with the understanding that this is a time and a place and a song you'll never forget." You know what he means ... those songs that, whenever you hear them, you're instantly transported back to that one moment in time (that "Go Moment", if you will). You hear the music playing in your brain, plain as day. You either smile wistfully at such a pleasant memory, or you cringe at the pain of the broken heart you received. So, here's five songs off of my life's soundtrack. Enjoy.

The Joker and Rainy Day Women. Many a night was spent with "my boys" just standing around and drinking beer. We could have just sat around together, in that old beat-up house on Carroll street, drinking beer and talking for days. In fact, sometimes we did. The more beer we consumed, the more we felt the need to discuss the meaning of life and those songs. I don't think we ever really got to the bottom of any of our philosophical discussions, but so many pleasant memories were made just being with people we cared about and "hanging out".

If You Leave (the OMD version). This song was actually on the Muzak in the restaraunt during "The Go Moment" I've already talked about. The original version rips my heart out every time I hear it, but surprisingly the Nada Surf version just makes me do that "corners of my mouth turn up" partial smile. It's almost empowering, really ... the message is still there, but the edges are rougher and not nearly as "sappy". A metaphor for my life as it is now, maybe?

Sand And Water. I've performed this song before, but it really hit home on December 19th, 2003. You know, the line about "all alone, I / will raise this child". One of my biggest fears was that I was going to end up raising my daughter alone. I mean, we're talking night terror kind of fear. And here, I thought it was going to be because something horrible was going to happen to R, not because we divorced. Hmmm.

I'm A Little Teapot. I know, in the company of the likes of Bob Dylan and Beth Nielsen Chapman ... this one seems a little "out of place". But "I'm A Little Teapot" is my trademark drunk-dial song. It's also our pledge class theme song ... we wore our silly Pi Alpha hats (a Delta Gamma tradition) and went serenading far too many times with this one. I mean, come on ... you can only sing "You've Lost That Lovin Feelin" so many times before you tire of it. And really, "I'm A Little Teapot" never goes out of style.

Maybe I'm A Girl
And Maybe I'm A Lonely Girl
Who's In The Middle Of Something
That She Doesn't Really Understand

Today was the end of a pretty long wait for me. Music From The OC, Mix 2 dropped today! Of course, I zipped on over to Best Buy and scooped it up right after work, and spun the whole disc. Here's my thoughts:

All in all, a nice CD. Compared to the first one, it's "OK". The disc is a bit more dramatic and melancholy than the first, but was saved by three notable songs: "Maybe I'm Amazed" by Jem (the title song today), "If You Leave" by Nada Surf, and "A Lack Of Color" by Death Cab For Cutie. The rest of the songs are OK, but not nearly as compelling as the songs on the first CD. I'd say ... I give it a B. Not a B+, but just a B. Worth the $15, of course.

Hosta La Vista, Baby.

Winter is upon Cow-Town. It's cold outside, and you can see your breath in
the cool morning air. I'm toying with actually starting to wear a coat, as
the 40* mornings are nearly too much for my system to bear. The hostas in
the courtyard here at TheFirm are yellowed and sickly-looking. Their
pallid squalor means only one thing ... lawn guys are coming this week.
And we all know how much Martini loves her some lawn guys.

Further, I spent last evening in the company of D. A wonderful evening of
just "vegging out" in front of the fireplace (and the television) was had
by all. I'm still not back to my 100% "rock star" self yet, but the night
was wonderful in spite of my residual low-grade fever and slightly stuffy
nose. He was forewarned that he would get no makeup and the trademark
Yankees cap. And he didn't care. As an added bonus, he also was treated
to the rarely-worn-in-public "Delta Gamma Cream Rose Formal 1996"
sweatshirt. And I didn't care.

There's an odd comfort with D and I, a strange calm that is inexplicable.
The good kind of inexplicable, though. The kind that makes you happy just
to be there, in that specific moment, regardless of the circumstances.
The kind that grounds you. Even if it's with a snotty nose, some
sub-standard chain restaraunt pizza, and a nearly ten-year-old sweatshirt.

In other news, I'm annoyed that SBC now is "sponsoring" the OSU / Michigan
game. Is EVERYTHING in the United States for sale? Is nothing sacred
anymore?

Martini's Addictive Personality.

I just realized that I'm hooked on a few items. Obsessions Du Jour, as it
were.

Diet Coke. I started counting, and I was putting down the
equivalent of four to five 12-ounce cans of regular Coke a day. Multiply
that by 155 calories for each can ... yikes. So, I switched to diet to
make life better. And by "make life better", I really mean "make my ass
get smaller".

DayQuil. Man, this stuff rocks the house. Couple it with a Diet
Coke or three, yee ha. Caffeine + pseudophedrine = Martini is functional
again.

Pringles Cheez-Ums. Cheesy, salty, potato-like crisps. Our little
on-site convenience store sells them in single-serve tubes. Pure heaven
when coupled with string cheese.

Lingerie. I can't help myself. I realized this morning that I have
three drawers' worth of it. Not anything stripper-worthy, mind you. Just
bras and panties. Heh heh ... that one was for Beej. She HATES that
word. So I'll say it again. PANTIES. Tee hee! Anyhow, if loving whorey
underwear is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Music. The OC - Mix 2 drops tomorrow, I'm cruising Best Buy at
lunch to pick it up. OH and dig this ... there will also be a Mix 3 ...
Holiday stuff! YAY for Christmasukkah! (If you don't watch The OC, you
won't get that one. You could start ... the new season launches on
November 4th!)

Calendars. In more ways than one ... I need to get new guts for my
Franklin Planner here soon. I want a nice week-at-a-glance. Oh, and the
other way I obsess over the calendar? Six weeks, one day. Yes, I'm
twitching.

Change. There will be some changes coming to my blog pretty soon.
You'll love it, I promise.

If the NBA were on channel 5 and a bunch of frogs making love was on channel 4, I'd watch the frogs even if they were coming in fuzzy. - Bobby Knight

I'm going to Sports Fan Hell. And I'm also going to Single Woman Hell.

Last week, I declined the offer of a date to the Cavs exhibition game at the Schott tonight. Why? Because I hate basketball. I think it is boring, and when you add in the idiocy of most of the NBA players, I just shudder at the thought of paying $40 for a nosebleed seat. I think these Cribs-dwellin jackballs make far too much money for their own good.

OK, now that's out of my system ... I don't want to be at work today. It's only Monday, and I've got weekend on the brain. Not sure what I'm doing this weekend yet. Any suggestions?

I'm rockin out to a little Chris Cox. It's all that's keeping me going right now. OK, I lied. That and two Starbucks coffees.

Saturday Recap.

I have a confession to make. I'll get this out of my system now: I have a innate hatred for Boston College. They are evil incarnate. They fuck up the Irish schedule every year. Have I mentioned that I'm still bitter about their destruction of the Irish national title run (yes, I know that was eleven years ago)? Bastards, all of them.

Speaking of Boston and their teams fucking up other worthy teams' chances at national titles: The Red Sox are up after winning the first game at Fenway. If I had to watch footage of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner having cheer-sex in the stands about one more time, I was going to lose my shit. Like TheBoy, I still wear my Yankees cap just to annoy others in my presence (PS, thanks for the drunk dial. Very charming, as always. Meow.)

Thankfully, the Buckeyes won. This means that Bacon can go back to his regular life now. Too bad, Meijer's was pimp on publicity from that stunt.

On the docket for today ... need to get my hair colored (what, you think this stunning red hair is natural? HA. Curtains don't match the carpet, kids), then planning on eating my weight in mom's famous potato soup. I'm sure NFL will factor into my day as well.

Trick Or Treat.
Smell My Feet.

Took Princess trick-or-treating today at my grandma's nursing home. What a circus! There were about 100 kids there, and the residents were so excited. All those kids just made their day. I made sure to let her spend extra time with each one of the residents that gave her candy. It was so cute, the ones that were bedridden, she crawled up in bed with them and gave them kisses. It's reassuring to know that she's such a sweet and loving little girl, after the whole "mommy's house / daddy's house" thing. She's certainly not shy ... wonder where she gets that from.

Here's a photo of the two of us together. Take time to note my hair-do ... yes, those are two ponytails a la Bunny.



I feel OK, just really tired and only a little bit snotty. I'm actually going to hit the sack here pretty soon. It's been a long day of trick-or-treating, Robek's, Swenson's, and Target. Till tomorrow ...

Mad E-Props To My Readers!

Got a few fun things to waste my baby-daddy-lovin sick-day away. Here's a few e-props to those of you that have hooked me up with some lovins to pass the day.

D - Sorry I missed your IM, darlin' ... hit me up later, I just might be conscious.

MAV - Yep, I'll come live on the streets of DC with you. It has to be cooler than central Ohio. I mean, come on. They have a subway there! Subway = cool.

TuesdayGirl - ROCK THE F-ING HOUSE. You are totally the reader of the week. Not to be confused with the best link you sent me ... www.jesusoftheweek.com . Other notable submissions from this kick-ass chickie include: www.bitterwaitress.com , www.weirdlinks.com, www.celebrityprankcalls.com, and of course ... my longtime favorite ... www.notwithoutmyhandbag.com/babynames . Hell yeah, that's at least three hours of wasted time right there, bay-bee.

Since no one has had a pizza (or Robek's) delivered to me, I will just head into the kitchen and make myself some suitable bachelor chow (ramen noodles).

4:56 EDIT: Mulan is coming out on DVD. (For those that don't know, I received a callback for the singing voice of the title role, but got beat out by some meager unknown ... you know, Lea Salonga ... LOL)

Off to see mom and dad. I'm all hopped up on DayQuil, and plan on topping off my milkshake needs at Steak And Shake ... yee ha. Taking Princess trick-or-treating at my grandma's nursing home tomorrow, I'll be sure to share photos of the cutest bumblebee in the whole wide world. Love (and DayQuil) to all!

influenza [In`flu*en"za], n.

1. An acute contagious viral infection characterized by inflammation of the respiratory tract and by fever, chills, muscular pain, and prostration.
2. What's currently kicking my ass and making me sleep the day away.

Send me emails to keep me occupied today, please. I mean, there's only so much "Who's The Baby Daddy?" that one educated twentysomething can watch before she explodes.

PS. I'm also accepting generous donations of flowers, pizza deliveries, and handbags. Email for the proper delivery address.

Electile Dysfunction.

So, you're not a fan of Bush or Kerry? Check it out ... More Than Bush And Kerry: A Look At The Alternatives

You have a chance to vote for Leonard Pelletier. Or better yet ... a ticket featuring Marilyn Chambers (she of "Behind The Green Door" fame). Ahh yes. Democracy at it's finest. Thanks to Burdie for the link.

ALSO: How did THIS get buried in the media? As someone that has a circle of friends that battle PCOS and Endemetriosis, the cause of advancing drug-assisted fertility treatments is near-and-dear to my heart. Please, consider whether you want to allow the appointment of Dr. W. David Hager when casting your vote on November 2nd. Thanks to Drama Queen for the heads-up.

Sicky-Fuss.

Apparently, my tired state isn't because I have been up late worshipping at the foot of the Yankees throne all week.

I'm sick.

My sinuses are swollen, and are about to cause my face to explode, I'm all snotty (TMI), I'm achy, and I am completely exhausted. Even a hefty dose of Red Bull ain't cuttin through it. I'm bailing out of work and going home to sleep this off, because if I don't, I won't be able to come in tomorrow. I have a few meetings scheduled (and a project to tie up) tomorrow afternoon, and I don't have time to be sick tomorrow. I'm also due for my annual bout with walking pneumonia, and if I sleep this off tonight, I can stave off the attack for another month or so (I generally manage to be sick for Thanksgiving or Christmas every year). Heading over to Robek's for a smoothie with a vitamin boost, then to bed. ALONE. Contrary to popular belief, snotty noses are not an aphrodesiac.

Thankfully, I'm headed to mom and dad's for the weekend ... they will be able to lend me a hand with Princess. And I can sleep this off with kleenex stuffed up my nose.

If my multitude of drugs that end in "QUIL" don't knock me out, I'll be back later. But I hope they do.

OK. Maybe God Doesn't Really Love The Yankees After All.

10-3? TEN RUNS TO THREE RUNS? And to add insult to injury ... a grand slam. Oh, Torre. Say it ain't so. I can't really discuss the finer points of the Yankee Massacre Of 2004, as I didn't really pay much mind to the game after the grand slam sealed the deal. You know ... kissing bandit and all.

About the date... because isn't that what you really want to know anyways?

Went for dinner with an e-mail pal. We share the same snarky (and somewhat obscene) sense of humor, and I said "hey, what the hell ... why not. Let's just see where this goes." Went to Restaraunt Hama, a dandy little sushi joint at Easton. Kirin Lights all around, California rolls for he, more california rolls and tempura dinner box for I. Neither of us were really in a sashmi mood (damn it, I want rice this time ...). The miso soup left a bit to be desired (actually, it may have been good but I just wasn't feeling it at that moment). But that's OK, the marinated cucumber salad more than made up for it. Smart-ass Martini poked at some of the candied ginger with her chopsticks to "kill" it before eating, but accidentally got a rice-grain-sized smidge of wasabi on it. This made my eyes water and made me choke. Apparently I'm not as funny as I thought I was ... real smooth, H.

Anyhow, we sat and giggled and talked for nearly two hours. Our stepford-wife-like waitress didn't seem to mind ... maybe she'd had too many anti-psychotic drugs to care ... and then it dawned on me ... half hour till first pitch. ACK! Panic! What to do, what to do ... then Martini did the unthinkable. Yes boys and girls, he ended up at Casa De Martini on the first date, crashed and sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace, watching the Yankees get spanked. There were dishes in the sink, crushed-up cookies on the floor, sweeper needs ran ... and I didn't care. My foot was all swelled up, and I had to wear my brace all night ... and I didn't care. Vanity went out the window. I had a hard time kicking him out after the game ... not because I planned on closing the deal, but because I liked him being there. Cookie crumbs and all.

A quickie.
Because we ALL like quickies, right?

I am so tired.

I think I'm getting old.

Fucking Red Sox.

Date went faboo.

More later, have a 9:00.

Kisses.

No more yankie my wankie.
The Donger need food.

Today has been a whirlwind so far.

Princess decided to have herself a little party at about 2 AM. She kept
saying "YOOO HOOO, MOMMY! Come here please?" When this failed, she let
fly with "un ... two ... fee stike ... YOU OUT!" When THAT failed, she
resorted to singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to herself until she
passed out again. This went on until well after three. As I am already
exhausted from the marathon that is the ALCS, this sort of sleep disruption
was NOT welcome. Add in: I didn't eat dinner last night.

Then, after fighting a very whiny Princess this morning, I got here to
work. I immediately got pulled into an emergency meeting, straight into a
10:45 AM meeting. I didn't get breakfast. I'm just now indulging in some
nacho cheese pretzel Combos and a Coca-Cola. I need something substantial
to eat soon, or I'm going to cut someone. I need to take some ibuprofen,
to stave off some of this ankle swelling. My foot looks like a big swollen
whale foot. This must stop.

Oh yeah. How could I forget ... the holiday party (yes, the one I was
soliciting a date for) has been CANCELLED. Fuckers. I realize, that in
today's society, a sense of entitlement from your employees is not the
climate of the workplace. But still, they have consistently dismantled the
culture of my heritage organization and are molding it into the culture of
the other bank's. Which, in my book, will be dandy if they bring my salary
in line with my Bank One counterpart. This is all contingent upon the
knowledge that my year in this position is over on December 1st, and I will
be posting for AVP positions post haste. I really want to get into
continuity and recovery, as it's a very stable and dynamic organization
within TheFirm. I'm working on getting my knowledge and skillset in line
with this (translated: "networking appropriately"). I have a basic grasp
of the processes (as I've been doing it as part of my job for a while now),
but I really want to get into the nitty-gritty of it. Getting my CCSA will
help a lot too.

I'm Princess-less tonight and tomorrow night. Tonight, meeting D for sushi
after work. Yankees/Sox at 8. What is with this game seven shit, anyhow?
Tomorrow, no plans as of yet. This is, of course, subject to change at any
time.

PS ... Mombi started her new job today! She now works with Lex at a
country club. She now plans weddings for a living. At the same place as
Lex. This means that two of The Others now work at the same place. How
jealous am I?!?

There Is A God, And He Loves The Yankees.

See, even my new ankle brace fits the bill. Go Yankees, clinch it at home.

Closing The Deal.

As the only one of my boy-toys that admits that he reads here has been reduced to FWB* status (his choice, not mine), consider this entry to be the return to the palace of raunch. Actually, this stems from conversations had yesterday with said FWB (TheBoy, for those of you that are following my exploits), as well as LawnBoy.

I'm losing my touch. I think that my mojo has been stolen by Dr. Evil. This may come as a huge shock to all of you, but I have recently experienced a problem with closing the deal. Not setting the deal up, mind you. That isn't a problem that I seem to have anymore, with one exception. It's actually making the close that's killing me.

Let me explain better. "Closing the deal" is a phrase coined by one of my college buddies that refers to the super-human ability to end up in bed with someone. It's taking it past the point of no return. You know, the point that you can totally sense that things are going to go "all the way", but neither one of you actually are brave (or drunk) enough to take it to that level. Someone takes the initiative, and MAKES it happen. It's never a hard sell, but still it takes someone mildly assertive to push it over the edge.

IMPORTANT: I'm not advocating putting "pressure" on anyone, or making someone do what they don't want to do. I'm also not talking about picking up a random stranger in the bar and taking them home for a night of drunken "name not required" sex. What I'm talking about is a "Disclosure" sort of experience. You both know each other well, you both want it to happen, you've planned the situation carefully, you intended on it happening, it's almost happening ... but then there is something holding you back. And it's supremely frustrating.

So, how does one fine female go from a little kissing-bandit-type behavior to "closing the deal"? Usually, it involves me, the woman, making the first move. In today's litigious society, I think many times men are afraid to assert themselves with a woman without a signed and notarized permission slip. Most women are terribly afraid to assert themselves, for fear of being branded a bitch or a whore (which even your fair Martini fears from time to time). This lends itself to what can sometimes be an insurmountable impasse.

At this point, I'll open my comments and in-box to comments and suggestions. I know you people read here, I see the counter going higher and higher. You can comment anonymously, I've enabled that function. Come on y'all. I need a little help here.



* FWB = Friend With Benefits.

Martini's Tuesday Tirade.
Part Uno.

I had one of those mornings that only a single parent could understand. The kind that might make a regular person curl up into a ball in the corner, crying for their momma. But oh, no ... not this girl.

I'm tired. Why? Because I was up watching the Yankees game last night. Z hit it right on the head this AM when she said that: "the Yankees wanted to sweep but since they won game 4, they just decided to let them have the game last night so they could take it back to the Bronx to win!! " Hell yeah. But they have to stop this 5-hour-long game shit, because I'm fucking tired. At least D kept me company on IM during the game. He tolerates my potty-mouth screaming at the players.

I woke up super hungry (I forgot to eat dinner last night), but as you all know I don't eat breakfast till I get to work. So this makes for a very cranky Martini. And this morning, Princess decided that a prudent course of action would be to smear pop-tarts on the cat (poor Salem) and dump milk on my freshly-ironed pants. Yes, I actually ironed this morning. Now, you see why I don't do such pedestrian tasks. Anyways. Wiped off the cat, changed my pants. Realize I'm out of gas (thank God for the dummy light). I left my security ID at home (I work in a secured building, because I guess people can get a little pissed off when you take their house away ... but I digress ...), so I had to stand in line to speak to the inept security guards (that speak-a no Engrish). Then I had to wait to find someone to buzz me in. Bastards.

And now, I will sit at my desk and email The Others and blog all day long. Look out. I've got a rant to get out of my brain about "closing the deal". This should be good.

Till later ... for now, I must look like I'm working. Kisses.

Thank God We At Least Have "The Best Damned Band In The Land"!

So, Ohio State fell completely out of the rankings. This should not shock me, but it does. I mean, realistically, they should have gotten the boot last week. This is OSU's worst showing since the Tressel era began. On the upside ... the Irish finally get a bit of respect at 24th on the AP poll.

The first BCS rankings are out this week. I'll just get this out of my system now ... I think the BCS rankings are a bunch of bullshit. They rarely allow the best team to stand alone up top of the rankings. As much of a "hometown girl" as I am, I still think that OSU winning the title in '02 was a crock of crap. Their strength of schedule was NOWHERE NEAR what other schools were. But they landed on top. Why? Anyhow, my opinion is that they should go to a "playoff" structure like NFL, and you'll get a ton more excitement. But hey, who am I ...

Forgot this little funny ... you know you're in Columbus when you go to Mass, and during the homily ... the priest lets fly with a speech about "forgiveness and being tolerant of others ... even of those that are oh-and-three in the Big Ten ..."

And This, From The Same Network That Brings You The Miss America Pageant ...

http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/News/story?id=174461

Go forth, read, and comment appropriately.

I will agree with one finding ...

"Who is very satisfied with their sex life?
Republicans - 56 percent; Democrats - 47 percent"

Well DUH. I'm a Democrat, and I ain't gettin' any. Been five weeks and one day ... *twitch*

(Props to MAV for the link, by the way ...)

I Think I'm In Love.
New Blog Obsession, The O.C., Drunk Dials, etc.

Gee, thanks Steve. I'm now obsessed with yet another blog. That Ashley Girl is a fun read ... an insight into a college gal's life that is remarkably similar to the Martini of old. Although it generally goes no further than some hot text, I'd still avoid reading Ashley at work.

For all you fans ... The O.C. starts on November 4th. Mix 2 drops on October 26th. It will include "Maybe I'm Amazed" by Jem (the song from the wedding), and even Nada Surf's KICK ASS remake of "If You Leave". Generally, I would have mocked someone for even attempting to remake something s'wonderful from OMD, but they did a bang-up job.

So, I received a great drunk dial this afternoon. From Mark, of all people. I assume he had sufficiently drowned his sorrows that the Bungles lost to the Browns. He went to the game this afternoon. He called just to grovel for being such a dick by cancelling on me. I agreed wholeheartedly that he was a dick and I told him so. I also informed him that I've given men the boot for much less, and he of all people should know that as it's happened to him before for a far less offensive infraction. He was plowed, and kept slurring about how he was such a fucking asshole and how I was "soooo pretty" and all that shit that men say with they are in trouble. And / or trying to get into your pants.

Anyhow, it was amusing to say the least. Generally, I don't approve of people grovelling, but this one was pretty f-ing funny. I let him go on like that for at least a half-hour, then told him to forget about it, not a big deal, and that he should sober up and call me back to make plans for later in the week ... that I might even say "yes" if he asked me to dinner.

And so begins another week in Martini's life ...

10:26 PM EDIT: During the course of an IM with D ... this gem came flying forth ... "I'm good in bed, I just can't spell." Priceless. Freaking priceless.

The worst thing about some men is that when they are not drunk they are sober. - William Butler Yeats

Well. Thank God that's over. I'll leave the bullshit rant at "I loathe Hallmark holidays".

After consuming my fair share of yeasty and hoppy goodness in liquid form yesterday, I started a new trend. And I realized this morning that I have now perfected yet another dimension of idiocy. Yes, boys and girls ... dumber than a drunk dial.

A drunk e-mail.

Someone really should make you blow into a breathalyzer before loading any email program. Legally drunk? No dice. I went back and re-read it this morning, and holy cow. Even worse: it's in writing. From my GMail account no less, therefore negating any plausible deniability.

On the docket for today: Mass. Then, Browns / Bengals. I look at it this way ... at least ONE team from Ohio will win this weekend. I'm actually making a pot of my famous beef stew. It's best served with football and cold weather, and today seems like a pretty good day to get my soup on. And fresh-baked bread. MMMM!

Busy Day For Martini.

Since 8 AM, I have:

1. Totally hosed my blog template, making a complete re-work necessary - what do you think?
2. Set off my break-in alarm
3. Haven't you learned by now? No. Number. Three.
4. Set off my fire alarm by starting my fireplace
5. Hit and killed a squirrel (what a disturbing thump-thump noise under my car)
6. Went to Marc's and spent $40 on mindless shit
7. Cursed my local CBS affilliate for not airing the Notre Dame game (fucking Michigan State - who cares about them?)
8. Locked my cat in the bathroom. Maintenance had to come and let him out.

I think I'll go chat up TheBoy for a little while longer, then nap whilst watching Ohio State. Go Buckeyes! YAY for Nooge! Nugent For The Heisman!

Three Five Oh.
The Ceremonial 350th Post ...

How appropriate, that the Hallmark occasion of the 350th post falls on the same day as the lame-ass Hallmark holiday of Sweetest Day? What kind of fucking bullshit is this "Valentine's Day Of The Fall" holiday? It's days like today that make me want to cut someone a la Mombi.

Mark, in all of his infinite wisdom, cancelled on me last night. He's very politically involved ... a Republican ... and had some work to do early this AM. Serves him right for cancelling on me ... he's getting the full effects of the Ohio fall for his door-to-door canvass this morning. Ha ha. Yup, I'm a vengeful wench.

It's cold. It's raining. Fucking Ohio fall. Is that HAIL?!?

Irish. Navy. Noon. CBS.

Buckeyes. Iowa. 3:30. ABC.

Boston. Yankees. 7:30. Fox. Should have company to watch the game.

This all means I have to get my lazy ass off the couch, take a shower, hit Marc's, pay bills, fold laundry, and make my bed. Because you never know who will see it.

Politics And Football.
Interesting Bedfellows, eh?

Per discussion with Rhino, it is legend that whichever candidate takes Kentucky ends up winning the presidential election. This theory is interesting, indeed. I have an email in to MAV (The Others' resident political genius) to test it.

But it was KillerIdea that piqued my interest on a different subject altogether. It's the theory not unlike Groundhog Day ... but for the presidential election.

See, according to legend, whomever wins when the Redskins play at home directly before the election will predict the winner. Washington wins, the incumbent party retains control of the White House. The opponent wins, and the incumbent party gets sent home. And, according to Snopes, this is indeed the case. Check it out.

So, what does Martini have to say about all this? Go Packers. Kick some ass.

Not Quite The Red Swingline Stapler ...

Off to lunch with G ... he's between appointments, so the hotness will be in a suit and tie ... *drool*

Enjoy this exchange with The Others ... it's amusing, because of my sheer stupidity (in my defense, it was before 10 AM ...)

I'm off for the afternoon today! See ya!

BACKGROUND: We're discussing Mombi's placecards for her impending wedding reception.

Martini: You could also make them on the computer with cardstock. My mom and dad have a choppy-thing to cut paper up (it has a name I'm sure ... LOL)

L: A cutting board?

Martini: No, no! It's this wooden board with a big machete-like knife thingy attached. It cuts paper.

Z: I just called it a paper cutter....

Miata: I'm pretty sure that's the technical name...at least that's all I've ever heard it called.

DolliQ: okay, so i'm a stickler for accuracy. so sue me. to get to the bottom of this, i pulled out my huge office supply catalog--the "school supplies" bible. there it was, wedged between "paper clips" and "paper fasteners": technically, and for the record, it's called a ::: drum roll, please::: paper cutter.

slowly walking down the hall
faster than a cannonball
where were you when we were getting high

today's song: "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis

"Hiya there. How yew? Guesh whut. Me toes are ... tingly. Vurrrry tingly. Tee hee!"

And that, my friends, is how a drunk-dial from your ex-husband starts. I'd forgotten how absolutely charming he is when he's about four beers and five shots of tequila into a good drunk. He kept trying to convince me that tequila is tastier when you add tabasco. I'll take his word for that one. Anyhow, the conversation was interesting, to say the least. I'm sure he doesn't remember the half of it, and that's OK. It's likely better that way. He says he's not hung over today, but I didn't get an email from him till after noon. ha ha

In other news:

I'm currently accepting applications from worthy folks to be my arm-candy for TheFirm's legendary Holiday Party. Hilton Easton, December 11th. The party is black-tie optional, and I'm considering going formal. Send photos of you in appropriate attire to be considered.

Took tomorrow afternoon off, under the auspice of a "mental health day". Meeting G for lunch at 11:30, then headed to beat on my poor ol 3-iron for an hour or so. Then taking a nap ... have dinner plans with Mark. He's cooking. I am frightened ... not sure if he knows how to make anything but reservations, but we shall see. I already told him I like mushrooms on my pizza.

Saturday: Football. Duh.

Sunday: Mass, cleaning closets out, getting rid of old bedroom furniture I no longer need.

What's up with you guys for the weekend? Anything good? Better than mine? ha ha

Found a new fun journal via Koochie Taster (link works now) ... check out Kinky (look at that link!) at http://kinkybitch.blogspot.com.

7:49 PM EDIT: Links work now. Also, I want one of these. The T-shirt, not Kate Bosworth.

Look Out, Martini's On A Rampage.
Duck And Cover!

I'm just really cranky today, and so I'm just hiding in my cubic-hell ... away from the rest of society. My head hurts from clenching my jaw (I subconsciously do this when I'm either stressed or angry), and I'm so stressed again I'm not eating. I'm just not hungry. I don't want to talk about all of the reasons why, but here's just a few things that have crossed my mind today.

1. I've decided that I must be the most shallow and bitter bitch on the face of this planet. OK, maybe not THE most ... that dubious distinction is reserved for the idiocy that is Paris Hilton. See, I realized yesterday that I don't date people for the sociologically accepted reasons. I regard the entire process not as a search to find a mate, but instead to have people around that are marginally interesting (or good in bed) just merely to occupy my time.

Yeah, I go through phases where I question myself, and wonder why I don't have that "urge" to settle down with anyone I date. I thought I did a few weeks ago. But I realized that to do so, I'd have to take a chance on exposing my innermost self again. And we ALL know how that worked out last time ... if not, go back and read from February till about mid-June. Luckily, I realized before I did so that it wouldn't be the most prudent decision to allow that particular person "in". LawnBoy made the argument that I just need a good "modest" man. His description was priceless, but I'll just liken it to the male equivalent of "a lady on the street, but a freak in the bed". I will again maintain that all the good ones are either married or gay.

2. The mystery of the day: Why do the cleaning people insist upon putting orange creamsicle smelling stuff in the bathroom air fresheners? A bathroom shouldn't smell like that. It smells so good that it's truly disturbing. Although it's not nearly as disturbing as the mashed potato scented candle that Bath And Body Works offers now.

3. Nope.

4. My ankle's on FIRE. It hurts like a son of a whore. The ligaments are burning, and I snapped the strap on my brace. Called the doctor, and they wanted to charge me $120 for a new one. Plus an office call. Ummm, no ... I don't think so. I found the same one online for $42.95, shipped directly to Casa De Martini. Rock on.

5. If loving Britney is wrong, I don't want to be right. I'm currently rockin out to "In The Zone". Love track #3: "I don't really wanna be a tease ... but would you undo my zipper please ... please don't talk ... just ... listen ..."

11:13 PM EDIT: Just spent two hours chatting with Mark. You know, he's a really nice guy. Maybe my knee-jerk judgment of him in the past was a bit too hasty. Headed to bed with an ice-bag for my ankle, I'm really exhausted. I didn't sleep well last night (stress is a bitch), and I pulled an 18-hour day yesterday. Off to have my standard daily Valpredo worship (damn he is FINE), and off to bed.

A Princess-ism for you: "MOMMY! HEY! MOMMY! It's my purrrrse right there. See it? Isss a Kay-Spade."

heh heh ... that's momma's girl. Raise her right ... today, Kate Spade. Tomorrow ... Prada. Can you say PRADA? How about ... Judith Lieber? *tingle*

you can tell the day by the bottle that you drink
sometimes when you're alone, all you do is think

I am pretty much non-functional today. I am really distracted, for some reason. I'm attributing this to the very interesting dream I had last night ... not bizarro like Mombi's was, but "interesting" like my last dream that involved Miss Lohan. It was one of those "is this real - pinch me ... " kind of dreams. I won't spill too much, but shall we just say that it involved TheBoy? I'm pretty sure he made an appearance in my subconscious because he called last evening. That, and maybe because
today's a month since we've been together. Yes, I'm twitching. Anyhow, he's still around, in email form and the occasional phone call. That's all.

I am free again tonight, which is OK I guess. I've been the social butterfly (and the kissing bandit) for the past two weeks, and I really need to catch up on my laundry and other such mundane things. As far as the weekend goes, I have plans on Friday for lunch with G, then dinner plans for Friday night with Mark, but no plans yet for Saturday. Saturday is an odd anniversary of sorts, as it will be a full calendar year since I moved out from R's house. I'm toying with the idea of going to Clayland to support Miata, but I don't think I want to make the two-hour drive alone. Maybe I can convince Girlfriend to go with me, as I won't take any of my boy-toys to a Miss Ohio function until I'm ready to answer all applicable questions. Which has yet to happen with any of them ...

My ankle is jacked up again. I have what my sports medicine doctors call "hyperextended ligaments, a chronic sprain, and a damaged Achilles tendon". I'm supposed to brace my ankle when I run, and I didn't. Owie. It's a bit swollen, but it's not too bad. I am avoiding going to the doctor's, as he'll just chastise me for not wearing my brace. I need a new one ... wonder if I can just buy one without a script? I wear a Malleoloc one, and don't want to pay $100 for a new one right now.

It's only 2:10. I don't know if I can make it till 5 PM. I'm really just tired of being here today. Blah to having to work for a living.

Speaking of which: LawnBoy got to read some of my work today (we're both bored as usual), and he's pushing me really hard to submit it to Playboy or Maxim or something. I don't know if I could actually let anyone else read some of my stuff. I mean, the two he read today were written explicitly for one person's enjoyment, and no one else has ever read them until now. I'll have to think about that. I've always liked writing, it's been my outlet for years ... but actually letting someone read some of my most explicit stuff? That thought gives me pause. Then again ... I let you guys read my brain dump every day. Hmmm. Maybe I will.

And now for a long distance request and dedication.

Per Ren's request, here's some more of my favorite things. And since this is the second round of the photos ... I found two of each to share! I'm still taking requests ...

Favorite beauty product
Both Redken Glass, which I became addicted to when I was working for them, and MAC Lipglass. Makes me very kissable.



Favorite pair of shoes
My ass-kickin boots and my favorite (and well travelled) slides. They've been in 6 different countries.



Favorite purse (i.e. the Kate Spade)
Here's both Kates. A handbag for all seasons. ha ha



OH OH OH ... and dig this. One of my favorite songs is on LAX. Wonderwall, by Ryan Adams. Glad to see that he's getting some mainstream airplay of that great remake of the Oasis track. I have it in MP3, if you want it just comment or email me. I'll send it your way.

Question And Answer.

Question: How many members of the Bush administration are needed to replace a light bulb?

Answer: TEN.

1. One to deny that a light bulb needs to be changed.

2. One to attack the patriotism of anyone who says the light bulb needs to be changed.

3. One to blame Bill Clinton for burning out the light bulb.

4. One to tell the nations of the world that they are either: "For changing the light bulb, or for darkness."

5. One to give a billion dollar no-bid contract to Halliburton for the new light bulb.

6. One to arrange a photograph of Bush, dressed as a janitor, standing on a stepladder under the banner "Light Bulb Change Accomplished."

7. One administration insider to resign and write a book documenting, in full detail, how Bush was literally "in the dark".

8. One to viciously smear #7.

9. One surrogate to campaign on TV and at rallies on how George Bush has had a strong light-bulb-changing policy all along.

10. And finally, one to confuse the American public about the difference between screwing a light bulb and screwing the country.

Yet again, hopelessly random.

My lips are burning. I ate a turkey sandwich with chipotle mayo for lunch. Apparently it's mostly chipotles and only a teeny part mayo. Ow. But it's damn good.

So, J has surfaced again. We've been trading e-mail for a few weeks, going a day or so between them sometimes. He's NOT wiggling his brutally hot self back into my life (or my bed, dammit), but he is doing a fine job of occupying my time today.

Received a semi-intoxicated drunk dial from TheBoy on Saturday night. Apparently he is spending yet another weekend partying like a rock star. Won't likely hear from him till tomorrow, when he sobers the hell up ... if then. Props to him for his stamina ... us grown-ups with jobs and responsibilities just can't rock that hard anymore. He was honestly shocked that I was home at my parents' house on a Saturday night. Well, there ain't much to do in The Rubber City, y'know. Plus, I needed to catch up on some sleep, as I haven't been sleeping much - tough to do that when you're the kissing bandit, you know ...

I'm tired. For no real reason at all. Wonder if anyone would notice if I took a nap.

Baked Doritos are quite possibly the best invention ever.

The Others are quiet today. Wonder why.

My trouser socks keep rolling down. This pisses me off.

I want some beer. I just asked LawnBoy why I can't get a little fridge and put it under my desk. Viva Corona.

My stomach is doing flips now, from the sandwich I presume.

I hate this part of my job. I have to QC 10% of all loans that go to foreclosure sale. I have to contend with the "Texas Tuesday" volume this week (oodles of loans, as TX only goes to sale once a freaking month), so I have had my head in this dumb Excel sheet all day. Sigh.

10:44 PM EDIT: I was wrong. I did hear from a v. tired TheBoy. When I'm wrong, I admit it ... I really didn't think I'd hear from him till tomorrow. Sometimes, being wrong is fun. ha ha

so to you, all the kids all across the land
there's no need to argue, parents just don't understand

I am so glad I'm home. The peace is so welcome. You have no idea.

I spent the day being regaled with the same questions, over and over again, from my mom. See, her short term memory is shot all to hell now, and she doesn't remember asking the same question twenty fucking times. And this is precisely why I keep her out of my private life, because I really don't feel like rehashing the same thing over and over and over again.

A snippet of a conversation had in Kohl's today, for your reading pleasure ... it replayed in similar fashion at Pat Catan's, at Robek's, and in the car on the way back home.

Mom: What's going on with TheBoy? Haven't heard you talk much about him lately.

Me: Nothing mom. Really.

Mom: Nothing? Don't lie to me. I'm your mother. You haven't been to see him lately. Why?

Me: [insert heavy sigh and eyeroll here] Because, mom. I just haven't. Can we please just not talk about this right now?

Mom: OK fine then. Who's the new guy. Tell me about him. What's he do, where's he from, what about his family ... blah blah blah ::: insert patented Murphy half listening thing here ::: .

Me: If I tell you, will you stop asking?

Mom: No, but tell me anyways.

Me: He's an axe murderer mom. He's a big mean blonde axe murderer with a G.E.D. He comes from a long line of axe murderers.

Mom: A simple "I'm not telling you" would have sufficed.

Boobs. Knockers. Tig Ol Bitties.

Good. I've got your attention.

Please make sure to head on over to BoobieThon and make sure to make your donation. Today's the last day to do so. And hey ... there's several folks you know on there ... see if you can find me, DQ, Eden, and a few other bloggers.

Nothing Of Substance.

At mom and dad's for the weekend.

Ran errands all morning. Boring.

Have to go to Wal-Mart this afternoon. Need more contact lenses.

TheBoy is on vacation for the weekend in Murphy-ville, but she is not there. Murphy and Burdie are hooking up right ... about ... now. I expect a stellar drunk-dial from him. TheBoy, not Burdie.

G is in Baltimore at a friend's wedding. In a tux. Damn he is FINE.

Who knows where Mark is.

B is working today, just drove by ... truck in the parking lot. Presumably the Ducati is still on the showroom floor.

Off to go and pick up some hometown donuts for LawnBoy.

and for the million hours that we were
well, i'll smile and remember it all
then i'll turn and go
while your story's completed, mine is a long way from done

Today's title song: "Champagne High" by Sister Hazel

Usual disclaimer: blah disjointed blah. Friday downer. Word vomit. Don't mind me. OK, here we go.

I don't know why things like this cross my mind from time to time. Why I let them. Sadism at it's finest, I suppose. For some reason I was sitting here this afternoon, digging through G/L accounts, and letting my mind wander. It started innocently enough, daydreaming of G in a tux, then to Mombi's wedding, then ... where it shouldn't. You know where. Thinking about how I'll feel when one of us truly moves on. Will it be bittersweet? Maybe. Will it hurt? Definitely. Will I even be there to see it? Because it will happen. Eventually. He before I, surely ... as my wounds are far deeper than his.

Spring turned to summer
But then winter turned to mean
The distance seemed right
At the time it was best - to leave
And to leave behind
What I once thought was fine
And so real - to me
And while I'm still gone
On the quest for my song
I'm at your - celebration

From time to time, I still have the vivid nightmare that awakens me in a cold sweat. Over and over again. The simple yet elegant engraved Crane's in my mailbox. Black on cream. Addressed o me and a guest. "Dr. And Mrs. T Request The Pleasure Of Your Company ..." Will I show up? Will I just send my regrets and a generous gift? I can't see it happening. I can't do it. Yes, I can. I'm the bigger person. This doesn't bother me. Yes it does.

No. I just can't.

Will I be able to just "smile and remember it all"? The moments ... the flashes of brilliance, as we call them ... or will I just "turn and go"? Even for me, there's a place where I get to that I can't put on the "brave face". I can't just chin up and hide my feelings, put on the million-watt smile through the pain, and cry alone in my living room. Even though I'm really good at it. I'm pretty sure that will be it. My breaking point.

I faulted B for sending the regret as he did in 2000. I told him, four years later over dinner and wine, that I thought he was a chicken-shit for not coming. I called him out because, after all, we are all adults, right? He poked at his tilapia, fork upside down. "I just couldn't do it, H. It hurt enough seeing you at the mall right after, even though I knew you were right across the street. I saw the cars. I was with K when you ran into her, you know. I was behind the planter, you couldn't see me. I couldn't face you. Not then. Not like that." I didn't understand at the time.
Now I do.

Even though I know it's going to happen, I can't be there for it.

Friday Night Lights.

I saw a FABULOUS movie tonight. If you are even a small bit of a football fan, I order you to go and see "Friday Night Lights" at your earliest convenience. They interspersed real footage into the film, and even filmed parts of the movie in the Astrodome and at the field in Odessa. A pleasant surprise was Tim McGraw, of all people. Great movie, great acting, just ... great.

G is not feeling well, he has a terrible head-cold. Poor baby was all sniffly, and just felt awful. I told him that he didn't have to come out (as he's flying out tomorrow morning to go "home" for a friend's wedding this weekend). But he did. Awww.

He was running late, as he had to stop and pick up his tux before picking me up (oh my ... the thought of him in a tux ... and out of a tux ... I'm drooling ...). So, sadly, I didn't get to press the flesh with Valpredo The Sports Hottie. That's OK, I had plenty of arm candy of my own. We got there as the movie was getting ready to start, and we managed to snag two seats in the back corner of the theatre. Don't get any ideas, we behaved. Really. OK, kinda. He's sick, not dead, people.

Anyways, we took the long way home through the city, he knows I love the downtown all lit up. We drove for nearly an hour with the windows and roof open, stars sparkling. The night air was crisp but still warm enough to feel incredble as we twisted and turned through the Brewery and Arena Districts. I just sat back, tipped my head back, and let the sounds of the stereo, and the smells of the city's bakery and the leather seats of the car just envelop me. Since the car is still new (as in ... just got the temporary tags off of it last Tuesday), the incredible smell of the new leather is still wonderful. For once in a very long time, I was relaxed and happy. He asked me what was on my mind, and I just mumbled something about loving to be in the city at night. He just reached over, brushed my hair out of my face, and said "wow". Whatever that was all about ... it caused him to damn near wreck the car. Oops.

Got home, was the kissing bandit for about a half-hour or so, and then sent the sickie on home alone. He has to catch a flight at 10 AM, and he had a bed calling his name. And for him to be functional at the rehearsal and dinner tomorrow afternoon, I didn't need to be in it. Remember, of course, that there is a huge difference between "need" and "want".

Off to the parents' house this weekend. I am BEAT, so I'm headed to bed. Good night all!

Isn't There A 12-Step Program For People Like Me?

Isn't the first step admitting that you have a problem? So, OK ... here goes.

I admit it. I'm powerless. I have a problem. My name is Martini, and I'm a smooch-a-holic.

As callous as it sounds, I don't think I would ever date, much less "settle down with" someone that is a bad kisser. After going without it for so long, I've made that an entry in my "must have" column. Why? Because in hindsight, I noticed a marked decline in passion during my marriage. Not just the usual "comfort zone" you slip into where you slowly lose the stolen moments, but a total "off the cliff" decline in those earth-shattering kisses.

You know the kind. The kind that make you just beg to be thrown against a wall and made love to. The kind where they literally take your breath away. Pure, complete, total, urgent, unadulterated passion. Grab my hands in yours, pull me in against your body, and just lay it on me. Throw me on the floor, pin my hands over my head, and KISS ME like you mean it, damn it.

Conversely, there are those moments that are earth-shattering ... but in a different way. You notice a level of emotional attachment from a gentle kiss. The way someone knows just how and where to kiss you to drive you wild ... priceless. There's a certain tingle you get from the kiss of someone whom you care about. The body language of touching a face during a kiss tells what your words can (or would) never say. The gentle way he pulls my hair back, kisses my neck, and exhales a breathy "hello" on the tender skin just below my hairline on my left side. Actions speak far louder than words.

OK, back to work.

My name is Martini. And I'm a kissing bandit.

My mom always complains about my lack of a boyfriend. Well, next time she asks, I'm going to tell her I'm dating two different guys: Mr. Duracell and Mr. Energizer. - Michelle Landry

So, again he makes me eat my words.

When we last left Mark, he had managed to piss me off by smothering me and calling when I was trying to put Princess to bed. At that point in my life, I still was trying to get my feet wet on the whole "dating" thing again. I was far too removed from the process to be "good" at it. I wasn't as good at establishing my boundaries with people. Now, with a fresh perspective on the process, I can honestly say ... I had a good time. Scratch that. A great time.

Even though he is a staunch Republican (am I just a magnet for them or what), he's a lot of fun. After the initial "I'm on my best behavior" crap, he finally loosened up. What won him a second date with me (OK, so TECHNICALLY it'll be a third): He wanted to talk about my daughter. He openly embraced her existence. A two-hour dinner, a nice kiss goodnight ... I'd say "thumbs up".

The only downside I could see to this would be it moving too quickly. For right now, I'm enjoying just going out and having a good time. Mark is a bit older than I, and I think he's looking for a Mrs. Mark. As previously discussed, I'm not into that. Eventually, I may consider it. But in the not-so-distant future ... nope.

Again, I'm going into this with an open mind. Give it a chance, at least a second date. We'll see.

Till tomorrow ...

And I Felt - Nothing
I'm Feeling - Nothing
And Nothing Will Get A Girl Transferred ...

FIRST AND FOREMOST: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAV! LOVE YA, BABE!

Now, on to the usual stuff:

Man, I am just fried today. After getting a really cool coincidence dropped on me this morning, I can't deal. I just can't freaking cope with reality. Dig this. LawnBoy is from The Rubber City. And not like, cross town ... we're talking just a few blocks from my house. EVEN WEIRDER: We went to the same parish as kids. We likely sat in the same Mass, time and time again, and NEVER FREAKING KNEW IT. To quote Gracie Lou Freebush ... "How bizarro is that?"

I'm on a quest to help him get his wife's groove back. See, according to him, she is SMOKIN hot. But, she has no groove. Therefore, I am hell bent on helping him find it for her. I mean, come on ... I even got Girlfriend to buy some slutty underwear. That's monumental. Getting the hottie to tie him up should be a total no-brainer. Look out ... the freak flag WILL fly by the time I'm done with her. :)

I'm having yet another bout of "I don't want to be at work" today. It's sunny outside, and I'm just itchin' to get out of here. I have a fever ... and the only prescription is MORE COWBELL.

I have total blogger's block. I don't really feel like writing about my impending evening, as I'm not terribly excited about it. I'm trying to approach it with an open mind, but I'm just not really in the mood to be all cute and charming after the boring ass day I've had. Just want to go home and curl up with a glass of wine and my fireplace. ALONE.

What I am in the mood for ... well, must we go there? I really don't want to go back to counting the time between instances of magic stick. But I'm about to. For the record ... since September 12th ... must ... arrange ... schedule ... soon ... need ... sweet ... sweet ... lovin ... *twitch*

Back to studying. I'm sitting for my CCSA exam on November 18th. TheFirm is footing the bill for it, and I don't want to pay the exam retest fee. I want those letters behind my name, damn it. I'll check in after dinner ...

Volunteerism, Hotties, and Other Political Musings.

I'm excited! I will be working with MoveOn.org as a team leader here in Cow-Town. I have maintained since day one that I'm not a fan of Bush at all. I am not totally thrilled with the alternative (Kerry), but anything's better than Bush. Therefore, I think that MoveOn.org is a great way to exercise my true opinion. We need new leadership ... time to "move on".

Vice-Presidential debate is on right now. I am not really listening to it, but instead just watching when Edwards flashes on the screen. Drama Queen has promised to mail my "I *heart* John Edwards" t-shirt tomorrow, I can't WAIT to get it. HEYYYY wait a minute ... did Murphy send her veep there to the debate? It's in Cleveburg, after all ... I could have made the trip up there after work. Oh no, please tell me I wasn't passed over ...

Speaking of hotties and politics ... funny story of the day. G, in passing, mentioned that he had discussed me with his one of his closest confidantes. I jokingly pressed him to tell me what was said, as of course I'm naturally curious. He just laughed and said "I told him you were hot, funny, and a great girl. But that you had one fatal flaw ... you're a liberal. You're lucky that I kissed you BEFORE you told me that, now there's no going back for me." I about fell out of my chair. Number one ... oh, he is SMOOTH. Number two: he actually said "FATAL FLAW". That's MY line. And of course, there is no number three.

See, everyone has a fatal flaw, a quirk in their personality or being that will single-handedly undermine a relationship. With some people, it's obvious. You know, they are an axe-murderer, or a Republican, or something. But with others, it's not as obvious ... or it's a quirk that the other person just can't deal with ... like they will only drink Coke and the other likes Pepsi, or one's a carnivore and the other vegetarian. I'm notorious for analyzing a guy until I find The Fatal Flaw, and then giving them the boot for that reason.

BoobieThon Update: $5,438.30 will go to the Komen foundation, as of today. But ... there's still time left to donate ... until 11:59 PM EST on Sunday, 10/10/04. Keep giving! It's a worthy cause, and you'll be rewarded richly with many photos of four-star racks. I'm anxiously awaiting my t-shirt from Drama Queen ... planning on putting it to good use. For the cause, you know.

OH AND P.S.: God Speed, Rodney Dangerfield.

Goin All Mombi On These People.

By that, I mean that I'm going to cut someone. OK, not literally. But it feels really bad-ass to say it.

Today, I'm just salty. The day started out OK, but denigrated rather quickly. I don't want to be here. Spent the morning having a less-than-pleasant conversation with someone, and as of this minute it's still "unfinished" ... and my inbox is silent.

I grabbed Girlfriend and cruised over to pick up my tickets for Thursday night at lunchtime, and it's SO nice out. I don't want to be cooped up in my cubic-hell anymore. I want to just get on a jet-plane and fly off to anywhere but here. I'm itchin to make the trip to see my Gal-Pal in STL again. Hopefully, operating capital will cooperate, and I can do so soon.

The people in the next department over are loud, rude, and obnoxious. I'm currently drowning them (and their poor communication skills) out with a hefty dose of Van Dyk (thanks, LawnBoy). Good God people. It is not necessary to squawk about your soon to be ex husband ALL THE F-ING TIME. He's an ass, I get it. He's bouts ta pay up fo his bay-bees. Whatever.

THEN. Oh it gets better. THEN, they get wings from BW's, and dump them on the lateral file behind my desk. After I have repeatedly asked them not to. They are lucky that I'm just zoning out right now, or I'd have been forced to empty the bags on the floor and kick the boxes of wings out into the atrium.

I'm just going to tune out the world now ... sing it with me ...

don't you know that when you touch me baby that it's torture
brush up against me i get chills all down my spine

Who's Who, and What's What.

I found myself explaining some of my lingo to LawnBoy (I won't reveal the reasoning for this moniker, but it totally made me smile when he said it) this afternoon. I thought, "well, it's been a while and the cast of characters has changed a bit ... time for some introductions." Let me know if I've missed anyone.

Martini: Me. Also known as "-h.", how I sign my correspondence to friends and lovers.

Princess: My 2-year-old daughter. The CUTEST kid ever. And I do mean ... EVER.

The Others: My supa-dupa-tight clan of girlies. Holla. This group includes, but is not limited to:

• Mombi: Met during Rush a few years ago, but she went a different house. We have the same sarcastic sense of humor, and we are partners in crime when it comes to hacking unsuspecting rabble-rousers on internet message boards. We've been known to fuck some people up for posting stupid crap on Voy.
  
• Z: Mombi's twin. She and Mombi went to the same high school, and have been friends ever since.
  
• A: Mombi met A in a Women's Studies class in college. They found out that they both are OCD about Miss America.
  
• MAV aka Miss Sooo K.Y.: Met through Miss America's "Community Hall". We all bonded in the best way possible ... over a pageant.
  
• Miata: Named for her beloved convertible. A closet wild-woman that we will follow to Miss America when she wins Miss Ohio this year. She's the last remaining competing member of our circle.
  
• DolliMama, Ree, and a few others that have been mentioned by initials: These sistas make a regular appearance here. They generally aren't in the midst of our belligerence and debauchery, but instead are in supporting roles. This means: they are at the ready to bail us out.
  
  

The Usual Suspects: Those that occupy my otherwise boring day at work. I guess a suitable definition would be "those that are friends that aren't The Others". And that I'm not sleeping with. This group includes:

• Girlfriend: One of my bestest girlies that works here at TheFirm, but in another department.
  
• Gal-Pal: A long-time friend that I met through The Knot on AOL, back in the day yo. We celebrated our weddings together ... as well as the subsequent divorces. She was there and held my hand when I got inked.
  
• LawnBoy: Also known as "The Cutest Texas Hold-Em Player In The Whole Wide World". Another co-worker here at TheFirm. Don't go getting any ideas, y'all ... he's married.
  
• Beej: She who coined the phrase "schtuppin". Also met on The Knot on AOL, and celebrated our weddings and subsequent divorces. (hmm. Guess this means that if you're planning a wedding, don't use The Knot ...)
  
• DramaQueen: She who sends me Kates in the mail, as well as Mickey-Mouse type hats (with boobies instead of ears). Another Knottie, but she's still married to her hottie military guy.
  
  

And of course ... the men in my life.

R: My ex-husband, and Princess' dad. Great as a friend, shitty as a husband.
B: My college ... well, he's my ten-year-long ... whatever. Sometimes boyfriend, sometimes booty-call, all the time hottie. One of only two men I have ever honestly loved.
T: A guy I dated for a short while that was married. I honestly was dumb enough to believe him when he told me that they were seperated and had already filed. I failed to perform the usual Googling / other background research on him, and could have saved myself the hassle of having to find out that he was still married and not leaving. Lesson learned.
Mark: Nice guy that has recently made an "encore" appearance. Not sure if this will pan out, or if it'll be a "one and done" deal on Wednesday. I'll bet on the latter, as he is the "smothering" type. Some women really dig that, but not me.
J: Total total total hottie, but an inconsiderate jackass. I like a cocky guy, but he was too full of himself for his own good. Decided that the booty-call wasn't worth the crap he dealt me, no matter how hot he is, or how great in bed he is.
TheBoy: He's been around for a few months. Started out SUPER HOT and very promising, but has since cooled significantly due to our schedules and what-not. Not sure where, if anywhere, this one is going. As told to Murphle, "I like a challenge. But I don't like impossible."
G: Wow. What to say, what to say. It's still in the "centrifuge of infatuation" stage, but so far so good. I've tried all of my usual tricks to weed out potentials, and thus far they all have failed. Impressive.

Guess what.
I've got a fever, and the only prescription is ... MORE COWBELL!

And now, a random smattering of ... randomness. Side note: There's no reason for the title, other than Christopher Walken is one funny son of a gun.

Today was fun. I didn't bother to rise it out of bed until nearly 9 AM, because I was up late watching the Buckeyes get their asses handed to them by Northwestern. And after watching my Irish get schooled by Purdue, I was having a pretty rough night. I polished off the bottle of wine that G and I started the night before (we had a glass apiece with dinner but got ... umm ... "pleasantly sidetracked" ... so much for that movie, eh?)

After stumbling downstairs and getting some Cap'n Crunch, I managed to trip back up the steps and get dressed. Executive decision: white socks and New Balances, or trouser socks and loafers? I went trouser/loafer. Wouldn't want to get smited. Smitten. Whatever it is that God does to you when you wear inappropriate attire to Mass.

Anyways, regarding Mass: I got shocked into a bizarre reality. In case you forgot, up till last weekend it had been nine years since I went to Mass. I actually made it to St. Elizabeth's for 11 AM Mass today, and was VERY pleasantly surprised. It hit me today that I left the faith not because I wholly disagreed with its doctrine, but instead I disagreed with the way that my parish made me feel about it. As said in Dogma: "YOU CATHOLICS. You don't celebrate your faith, you MOURN it." St. E's is very relaxed, they don't even have kneel-bars. It shocked me, as I walked into the main sanctuary and there were people standing around talking before Mass. That NEVER happened at my original Parish. People just filed in and sat there like Catholic zombies. They sat there as the Priest read the Missal, word-for-word, gave a horribly dry homily, threw eucharist at you, and then quickly filed out when the Mass was over. People at St. E's actually TALK to each other. I had three people come up to me and tell me that they'd never seen me there before, and welcome, and asked if I was planning on coming to the spaghetti dinner next weekend. It felt really nice. I will definitely go back.

After that, I cruised to Wal-Mart. Needed to get the oil changed in mom's car (still have it, as it rocks the house in gasoline). Two hour wait? OK. At least they have a great waiting room. I picked up this little digital camera, so that I could have a camera in my Kate Spade for Thursday night. Why Thursday, you ask? Because I have tix to the premiere of "Friday Night Lights". The NBC4 premiere of the movie. And I have it good authority - VERY good authority - that my fave sports cutie will make an appearance there as well. I am on a mission to get a photo op. And maybe if you're lucky ... just maybe even a photo of G and I together will surface. He'll be my arm candy for the evening, since TheBoy has decided that he couldn't take me up on the offer.

Although, this camera sucks ass. It doesn't have a flash, so I don't know if it will take photos inside the Arena Grand. And really, that's why I even want a smaller digi THIS WEEK to begin with. Damn it all.

Other updates on the love life: Surprisingly, I must be giving off this subliminal vibe of "hey, ask me out". I was watching the Bengals / Steelers game whilst waiting for the car, and Mark crossed my mind (he's a super big Bengals fan ... poor guy ...). Had a voice mail on my cell when I turned it back on ... Mark. Hey there, how are you, hope you have been doing well, thought of you today, give me a call, I'd love to take you to dinner one night this week if you're free. (For those of you that don't remember, Mark and I parted ways because he couldn't remember not to call my house during the time I put Princess to bed. Nice guy, and a great date, but I branded him as disrespectful for this reason. Well, in light of other folks I've dated since him, I guess I could do worse. I can train him not to call between 8 and 9, that shouldn't be too difficult.)

This means: I do not have a free night until NEXT MONDAY at this point. Yee ha.

Off to find some semblance of dinner. I haven't eaten yet, and the pretzels I had at Wally-World have long since worn off. Good night!

OH ONE MORE THING: Forgot to mention ... when did Jerry O'Connell get even freaking hotter? Is it wrong to want to lick that man??? OK, I'm done now.

10:48 PM EDIT (yeah, so I lied, I wasn't done): R just called, he and Princess are home safe from Houston. The amusing part is that I answered my cell and he said "Oh, I'm so glad you answered." This is not the normal reaction from him, but whatever. I just chuckled and asked why the warm reception? And he goes "I just got a call that I didn't get to answer from the Marion County Correctional Institution, I didn't know if you went to see TheBoy this weekend, and I thought you'd managed to get yourself arrested."

I just laughed and said that I had not seen TheBoy since early September, thank you for the concern and the offer to bail me out. He then pried into my personal life, but I managed to laugh it off and asked him what he would have done if I didn't answer ... he then laughed and said "I guess I'd have had to either ate my pride and called your mother, or just let you rot in jail."

I guess both things would be equally as damning.

Welcome To The World Of Martini.

Here's my answer to DramaQueen's request for photos. I just bought a cheapie digital camera that fits in my purse ... more on my reasoning for that later. Meantime ... enjoy the photos! PS - sorry, no naked men. But I *will* work on that for y'all.

#1. Your favorite object in your home
My fireplace. I am THRILLED that the weather is cooling off so that I can use it! Groove in front of it will be forthcoming, I hope.



#2. Your favorite item of clothing
You should have known ... here's a shot of my favorite undies, complete with a cosmopolitan on them. One can only assume that it's made with Grey Goose, of course.



#3. Take a picture of something that tells us something about you.
This is my favorite trophy I ever got. Now, mind you, it was for being 2nd Runner Up. But it is so damned cool that I keep it on my entertainment center.

i confess i watch your mouth move baby when you're speaking
study your body when you walk out of the room
you'll see how much you value my friendship
but i want you addicted to my perfume

Today's title song: Sexual (recorded by Amber, mixed by Thunderpuss).
Listen to a sample by Clicking Here.

Let's unleash the patented Martini analysis on G, shall we? It's circular, it's nonsensical, it's funny. Enjoy.

G is a great guy. A really really great guy. Cute (he's not quite a Murphy-Hot-Bitch, but he's darn close), a professional, loves football, has a GREAT body, intelligent, Catholic, affectionate (a fabulous kisser, btw), considerate, the "spark" is there ... and quite possibly, to quote Mombi ... he's boyfriend material. I'm not looking to settle down again anytime in the near future, but having someplace to "rest my head", someone that I'm not constantly questioning their motives, would be lovely. I'm ready for that, I think.

But.

There's always a "but".

I still crave that animal attraction, that "rip my clothes off as soon as you walk through the door" kind of hotness. And I, as yet, am unsure whether G can offer that. Time will tell, I guess ... I just need to be patient. I've already had the "been there, done that" with the calm, orderly love in a relationship. That fades quickly into nothing more than friendship. And I have plenty of friends, I don't need another one.

Don't misunderstand me ... things with G are going swimmingly. VERY swimmingly. Last night was great (nothing happened, you perverts). But they are going slowly. Ahh hell ... maybe that's what I need. I'm interested in seeing what this week will bring.

Other news of importance:
I'm working on getting my webspace up and running, so that I can share some of the bitchin' music that I quote online for you guys.

URGENT ... The Blogger BoobieThon Is ON! Click the banner to find out how to help ... donate, send in pics of your boobies or pecs, or just raise awareness for the Susan G. Komen Foundation. The submissions are all anonymous ... but I will cop to having submitted a photo of mine for the cause. The front page is OK to view at work, but obviously the photo pages are not.

Memes.

A "meme" is an inspiration, or an "idea" for bloggers. And Blogger.com actually had a good one today.

Let me know three things you want me to take pictures of. I'll pick some, take them with my beloved digital camera, and post 'em. Just leave me a comment with your suggestions!

Because, you know, I love comments. They make me feel needed and wanted and stuff.

Swami Says.

Girlfriend and I have this running gag ... she has this uncanny ability to foretell the future when it comes to my life. We call it "Swami Says". Here's a transcript of an IM between her and I this morning regarding G ... enjoy.

Girlfriend: OOOOOO - - - - HE'S CUTE!!!!!!
H: Told you!
Girlfriend: you see him again when?
H: Tonight. I EVEN CLEANED MY HOUSE FOR HIM.
Girlfriend: oh my goodness! i need to look outside and see if the sky is falling - lol!
H: Stop it! Smart ass.
Girlfriend: hee hee hee ... swami says --- clean house will get you some "magic stick". messy house will get you...a messy house. LOL
Girlfriend: i crack me up
H: ROFL ... Hmm. Magic stick ... hmm ...
Girlfriend: yeah - magic stick ALL good. anyway it's back to work with me....feel free to stop by with some crack...i mean almonds if you get the chance